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iprobablyshipit91 · 2 years

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Magical Blooms

Genre: romance / mutual pining / fluff

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: none I think?

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo

Square filled: Flower Shop AU

SPN Masterlist

My first ever Dean Winchester fic and I’m terrified. Please let me know what you think! Also, all the flowers used at each part of the story are used for a reason…

This wasn't a big deal. Nope. No. Not at all. Not in the slightest. Actually, it was the exact opposite of a big deal. An insignificant speck if you will. And one that certainly hadn’t even registered on your radar. After all, there was a flurry of customers walk through the doors to Magical Blooms each and every day, and quite a number of these were regulars. Just because one of those regulars was an undeniably gorgeous man that flirted shamelessly, owned more flannel than you thought possible for one person, had adorable bow legs, and the most captivating green eyes that you had ever seen was most certainly not a big deal. And just because he was inexplicably absent today after you’d seen him every Friday without fail for the last six months was also not a big deal. It's not like you had really noticed anyway, having spent the morning softly singing Christmas songs along to the radio whilst putting together a similarly themed bouquet with holly, pine, and red chrysanthemums. And okay, maybe you were secretly hoping he would love said bouquet, but that also wasn’t a big deal. You just liked to please your customers. And anyway, all of this had to be no big deal whether you liked it or not because he had a girlfriend. A girlfriend that he came and bought flowers for weekly without fail, coming into the store and carefully choosing something different and unique rather than having an easier standing order. You couldn’t decide if he was completely in love or just an incredibly attentive boyfriend. Either way, you couldn’t let it be a big deal.

He had first rushed in to your little shop at the end of May and purchased a beautiful and remarkably expensive bouquet of white roses. You couldn’t help but drink in the way he had looked in a dark Henley, red plaid button down and jeans, shaking yourself a little to ensure you weren’t just gaping as he paid with his card. The small smirk on his face before he hurried out told you that you might not have succeeded as well as you’d hoped.

The next week he was back much to your delight; his dirty blonde hair gorgeously disheveled and green eyes sparkling at you the second he walked in. After casually browsing the shop he made a beeline towards you.

"Which of these do you like better?" he had asked as he approached, one hand holding yellow carnations and the other deep pink gloxinia. You put the pen down on top of the order form you’d been failing to fill out for the last ten minutes and forced yourself to go into professional mode. You were used to helping guys pick flowers; just because this one looked like a damn Greek god didn’t stop you doing your job.

"They are both great choices. Are they for a special someone? Or maybe a special occasion?"

"Well sweetheart, I guess I would say they’re for a special someone." he smirked, wetting his lips with his tongue and you couldn't help the way your heart beat a little faster at his deep rumble.

"Okay, well what sort of flowers does she like? Or does she have a favourite colour maybe?"

"Uh…" he faltered.

"Or he." You quickly amended, hoping you hadn't offended him. His eyes bulged a little and you were sure the flowers weren't for a man. You couldn't help feeling a little pleased.

"No." he shook his head, looking a little flustered. He took a deep breath. “No. I…" But his answer was cut short by the sharp call of Rowena, your interfering but well meaning boss and the owner of Magical Blooms.

"Y/n!"

"Excuse me just one second," you told him before meeting Rowena at the door to the back room.

"I don't pay you to flirt with customers now do I dear. I don't care how attractive they are." You felt your cheeks heat up at the volume of the older lady’s Scottish brogue. There was no way he hadn't heard her.

"Rowena!" You whispered indignantly. "Don't be embarrassing. He is buying flowers for his girlfriend!"

"Well that is a damned shame" she whispered back with a mischievous smirk, her eyes darting over to the perfection still stood at the counter. “Because that man is delicious." You rolled your eyes. You had a strange but very close relationship with the older woman having worked in her shop since you were a kid. From the way you spoke to each other though people wouldn’t have known. Most of the time your conversations sounded more like arguments. You spun on your heel with Rowena calling with a smirk "Remember I won't hesitate to fire you!"

You heaved a sigh, biting your lip to stop the retort that was brewing. Instead you made your way back to the handsome customer, plastering on a smile to cover the fact you were positive he had heard every word.

"Sorry. My boss." You rolled your eyes again.

He laughed; a deep sound that struck you low in the stomach and sent your heart into overdrive once again. "I understand, Sweetheart."

You shot him a grateful smile, keeping eye contact longer than was necessary. The green captivating you completely.

"So…do you know what flowers your girlfriend likes?" You asked again, desperately clinging on to your professionalism.

He shook his head a smirk on his handsome face. "We have only just met."

"Hmmm…." You thought briefly, glancing between the flowers. "I would say most women would probably pick the carnations out the two. They are a pretty safe bet."

He nodded but looked at you thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes, like he was trying to read your expression. "I asked which you liked better though, and you prefer the pink ones, don’t you?"

You tried to hide your surprise that he had noticed your preference for the gloxinia. You frowned and his smirk grew, his eyebrow rising mischievously.

“Yes, I just think they’re beautiful." You said honestly with a shrug. With a satisfied nod and a breath-taking smile that lit up his whole face, he quickly returned the carnations to their place.

"Gloxinia it is then!" he said; his smile boyish and utterly adorable.

You grinned back helplessly as you reached for the flowers in his hand and firmly ignored the hum of electricity in your body as your fingers gently brushed.

"My name is Dean." He said as you rung up the bouquet.

"Y/n."

That visit was just the start and you very quickly found that you looked forward to your Friday shift more than any other. Each week Dean would walk around the shop in his flannel shirt, examining all the available arrangements and then ask for your input and opinion. There was always a smile and usually a wink or flirty comment too and you couldn’t help how quickly he became your favorite customer. As the weeks went on you eventually started talking about other topics. You learnt early on about Dean’s pride and joy; a sleek black Impala that he affectionately called Baby. It almost frightened you how soon the hum of the engine became familiar to you as you eagerly awaited his next visit.

In late July he told you that he would be gone for two weeks while he visited his younger brother in California, pride once again colouring his tone. You had been taken aback at how much you had actually ended up missed him in that fortnight and realised just how important his visits had become to you. Remembering his girlfriend however you mentally scolded yourself and forced your thoughts elsewhere. But then Friday had rolled back around and he was there, almost first thing, in relaxed jeans, his favourite red plaid button down and damn it if your heart didn’t do a flip just at the mere sight of him. There was an eagerness to his expression that made you think that maybe, just maybe, he had missed you too.

"Welcome back!" You smiled despite the promises you made to yourself to take a step back. To not let yourself fall for someone who was already taken.

"Thanks sweetheart! It's so good to be back," he said as he closed the space between you. "I, er, well I brought you something." He pulled a small wrapped box from his pocket. You looked at it quizzically. "A gift, for my favorite florist." he explained. "I saw this and, well, it made me think of you."

Your eyebrows shot up; you didn't know what to say. After hesitating a moment too long he shook the box slightly for you to take.

He waited patiently, rubbing his jaw with nerves, as you unwrapped it. It was a dainty gold necklace with a small primrose pressed in glass dangling from the middle. It was beautiful and so very thoughtful. "Dean… wow. Its wonderful. I absolutely love it." You smiled up at him shyly and you saw him visibly relax as he beamed back.

"I could er, help? Put it on I mean. If you wanted me to?”

You nodded, passing him the necklace before turning slowly and moving your hair out of the way for him. You steadied your breathing as best you could, feeling your heart pound in your ears. His warm fingers brushed softly against your neck as he fastened the clasp and you felt yourself shiver involuntary. You looked back over your shoulder to him, his hot breath tickling your neck from your proximity yet he didn’t step away and you found you couldn't move either. You were trapped in a space full of his smell, his body heat, and your own thudding heart.

"Y/n. I…" Dean began only to be interrupted by the thudding of the shop door as a frantic customer came barrelling through. The spell you were both under immediately broke and you stepped away, breathless and eager to get rid of the interruption. But after fifteen gruelling minutes of helping debate the merits of pink roses over red; Dean motioned that he had to go. It was only later that night that you realised he hadn't bought any flowers.

The beautiful gift and his lack of purchase had filled you with a strange hope. Had he perhaps broken up with his girlfriend? What would he have said before you got interrupted? Would he have asked you out? The questions plagued you all night and into your shift the next day. Your fingers toying with the trinket around your neck constantly as your thoughts wandered to Dean. You were still brooding over the possibilities as you helped your best friend Benny pick out flowers for his anniversary.

"These are perfect as usual! What would I do without you, Sugar?" Came his Southern drawl as he wrapped his arm around you and kissed your head affectionately. You rolled your eyes at his antics when you suddenly noticed Dean in the middle of the door way, your heart soaring at his unexpected appearance. You smiled brightly but he didn’t return it; a strange, sullen, look on his face. You stopped yourself from frowning and turned back to your friend; eager for him to go so you could speak to Dean alone, preferably before Benny realised who he was as the embarrassment opportunities would be just too great for him to pass up.

“So, I’ll see you this weekend?” You say, remembering Andrea had invited you and some other friends over for dinner.

“You will indeed,” he replies easily, pressing another kiss to your hairline before retreating out the shop, the door thudding behind him.

You turned, your eyes searching the shop for Dean. Benny is long forgotten as your mind turned towards finally finishing your interrupted conversation. He was studying a wall of flowers, half turned away from you.

"Hey!" You said a little breathlessly as you reached him. "I’ve been expecting you." He turned with raised eyebrows "I mean, you know, since you didn't, er, buy anything yesterday." You gave a small smile as your stomach erupted with butterflies. Your fingers latch onto the cool glass of your necklace, the necklace he had just given you the day before, for reassurance. "The…uh… hyacinths are fresh." You gestured awkwardly at the yellow flowers in front of him. “Or I have some marigolds you might like?” You were hoping this would be it, that he was going to turn around and tell you he wasn't here for flowers. That actually, he no longer had someone to buy flowers for. Instead he sighed and pouted. "Yeah, the hyacinths are fine."

You nodded, feeling your heart sink like a stone. Ever the professional though you gesture to an arrangement. "Is this one okay?"

"Sure." He grabbed it without even really looking and swiftly walked past you, heading to the register. Silence reigned as you rung him up. Instead of bright eyes and friendly banter there was a crease in his brow and a slight frown. It was the first time you remembered feeling uncomfortable around Dean and it felt so wrong. Your mind floundered for conversation topics. You paused before handing him his receipt.

"Dean. Is everything okay?"

He finally looked at you, and flashed half-hearted smile that looked more like a grimace at best. "I'm fine, Sweetheart. Just a lot on my mind."

"Oh, sure." You replied stiffly as you handed him his receipt. He took it and turned to go. You felt a weird constriction in your throat; the meeting had not gone as planned. You grabbed at your necklace and just as he placed his hand on the door you called out. "See you next week?"

You meant it as a goodbye but you could hear the question in your voice as clear as day. He paused, tossing you a look back, and his face broke into another small smile, though this one was much more genuine. "Of course, Sweetheart. Next week."

The next week came and he appeared and things went back to normal, as if nothing had ever happened. You talked and flirted and he bought his flowers. You never took the necklace off and felt sure he must have noticed, though he never once mentioned it. You tried not to be disappointed, you tried to be satisfied with your relationship, limited as it was, and enjoy the moments you shared. Mostly you succeeded. Sometimes you couldn't help yourself and tried to pry information about his mysterious girlfriend.

"So, you two must have an anniversary coming up soon?" You asked one day in early November as he contemplated some red carnations.

"Huh?" he turned in confusion.

"Well, when your first came in at the end of May you said you had just met someone. So your six month anniversary as a couple should be coming up." You rushed to explain yourself. You glanced shyly up when he didn't immediately respond. He had a wicked smirk plastered on his face.

"Why, Sweetheart. I didn’t realise you monitored my love life so closely."

"I don’t.” You quickly covered with a roll of your eyes. “It's just my job to remember this kind of stuff. That’s all.”

“Right,” he said disbelievingly, the mischief never leaving his eyes. “And how do you know that we would even celebrate such a minor anniversary? That’s very chick flick.”

You scoffed. "Please. Dean you are such a hopeless romantic. I’d put money on you celebrating any anniversary!"

"I take offense at the idea that I am hopeless or romantic!" He points his finger at you.

"Oh come on! You literally come here to buy flowers for her every week! How much more romantic can you get?"

"Yeah well, perhaps I only come to see you." he shot back, the teasing words sounding oddly serious with his tone. You meet his gaze and find yourself unable and to look away. The moment stretched on before you finally bit your lip and turned away with your heart thundering in your ears. It was only later that night while you pondered what he could have meant that you realised he had, once again, avoided telling you anything about his girlfriend.

You thought about his words often as you absently clutched your necklace. You wondered what he had meant and if you were crazy to think he had meant anything serious.

Benny had caught you in just such a moment of contemplation last week.

"Hello! Y/n! Anybody home?" He called snapping you back to reality.

"Sorry what?"

"What is up with you today, Sugar? It’s like your not even here." Benny asked.

"It's Friday." Rowena responded from her perch behind the register. You shot her a dirty look.

“What’s Friday got to do with anything?” Benny asked, still looking confused.

“Loverboy is coming today."

"Don't call him that." You groaned as Benny perked up at the same time and asked “Loverboy?”

"Well, what should we call him?" Rowena smirked wickedly.

"Nothing! Because he is just a customer. We aren’t dating. We aren’t lovers." Rowena just raised her eyebrows, smirk unwavering and you threw your hands up in exasperation.

“Hold up,” Benny interrupted. “Is this the mysterious Dean you mentioned a few weeks back?”

“Indeed,” Rowena supplied as you pinched your nose in frustration.

“Yes, but he’s just a friend and he has a girlfriend. There’s nothing there.”

“But you like him, Honey. I can tell,” Benny points at you.

“It doesn’t matter what I feel, he’s got a girlfriend Benny. I can’t forget that.”

Benny clucks his tongue sympathetically and pulls you in for a hug.

“Can I…”

“You’re never meeting him,” you interrupt quickly, knowing exactly what your friend is going to ask.

"Actually if you stick around you are guaranteed to meet him." Rowena pointed out unhelpfully.

You pull away from Benny annoyed. “Are you still here?” You grumble to your boss. She just smiles in response and makes her way to the back room.

"That settles it. I’m staying until he shows up." Benny declares and you know better than to argue with him.

"Fine. But if you embarrass me you can find someone else to help you with Andrea’s Christmas present!"

You didn't have to wait that long; fifteen minutes later Dean came sauntering through the door. He was dressed in his usual shirt and jacket combination and of course your traitor heart sped up at the sight of him. Benny had kept out of sight as you helped Dean choose a bunch of snowdrops. He then pounced before you could move to the register.

"Y/n, do you think Andrea will appreciate this bouquet?" He rounded the corner and then gave the biggest look of fake surprise as he pretended to see Dean for the first time.

"Oh, I’m sorry, Sugar! I didn't know you were with a customer." He said with mock surprise. You barely contained your eye roll at his ridiculous antics.

You forced your tone to be bright. "No problem. Dean this is my best friend Benny. Benny, yes I’m sure your wife will love those.”

"Best friend? Wife?" You heard him murmur before Benny began speaking again.

"Me and Y/n go way back. She always knows just what my Andrea will love."

You glanced at Dean and was pleased to see a wide, goofy, grin plastered to his face.

“She always picks out the best flowers,” he agreed.

There was a pleasant pause and then Deans phone rung. He apologised and quickly walked out of the shop to answer.

"I can see why you like him Honey, and he certainly has eyes for you." Benny smiled as soon as the door closed.

“Oh, stop it,” you attempt to brush it off although you hear Rowena’s voice drift out from the back saying “I told you so!”

Dean stuck his head back in. "Sorry. Sam emergency, I’m going to have to leave town. Can I pay for these when I get back?"

"Of course! No problem."

"Thanks. See ya next week?"

You had nodded, already looking forward to next Friday.

But next Friday had come and gone and Dean had not shown up. Which, of course, was no big deal.

"Did I miss Dean today?" Rowena asks offhandedly.

"No. He didn't come in." You try to match her tone.

"Really? Well that is good news."

You jerk your head up in confusion. "What? Why?"

"Well dear, if he isn't buying flowers maybe he’s broken up with that girlfriend of his. Which means the two of you can finally stop making eyes at each other and go out."

You feel a thrill in your heart but reply sarcastically. "Please. If Dean was interested in me I think he would have made a move long ago."

Rowena’s reply was only a knowing smile and a short "Mmm-hmm".

You try not to get your hopes up. You fail miserably.

An hour later, Rowena is gone and your closing up the shop for the night. The lights are off as you pick up your keys when you hear a tap on the door. You turn around expecting a desperate customer and gasp when you see Dean grinning back at you.

He looks just like he always did; hair disheveled, a flannel shirt layered over a black tee, and just enough scruff on his face to add to the whole rugged look he had going for him.

As you walk through the darkened shop with only the street light shining through the windows you feel a mix of nerves and excitement at his arrival after Rowena’s earlier words. You unlock the door and let him in. Cold air sweeps in and you convince yourself that is why you shiver and not because of his proximity.

"Sorry, I hope I'm not too late. I only just got back into town." he says.

You shake your head. "No, it’s fine. I was just leaving." There is a pause and you realise how much more intimate the shop seems in the low light. In the shadow you can't quite make out his eyes, but he’s staring at you. "I was beginning to think maybe something awful had happened to you."

"Like what?" he asks, his teeth flashing in the dark.

"The flu, a car crash, an alien invasion?"

He shook his head. "None of those things could keep me away." His cold hand reaches out and toys with a strand of your hair. You don’t understand how such a simple gesture could suck the breath from your lungs and send your head spinning.

"Rowena thought… well that maybe you might have broken up with your girlfriend." You bite your lip, afraid of his answer.

He chuckles. "Well it seems both you and Rowena were wrong." Your stomach drops and you step back, your hope shattering and walls around your heart flying up. You wish he hadn't shown up at all now. At least then you could have had one night of blissful fantasy.

"I see. I..uh… I need to get going." Your voice dull. "Maybe try the grocery store. I am sure…"

'"No. Y/n. You don't understand." he interrupts, his hand rubbing his jaw. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"What? Since when?" Of all the things you thought Dean might say this was not one of them.

He grins sheepishly, dips his head and rubs his neck. "I never even had a girlfriend. The first time I came in I was in a hurry, getting flowers for my friends wedding. I wanted to ask you out but I didn't have time. So I came back and I had it all planned. I was going to have you pick your favorite flowers and then give them to you and ask you out. But then Rowena threatened to fire you for flirting and I…"

"But she didn't mean that!" You interrupt, your mind reeling to make sense of his story.

"I know that now! But I didn’t then and I was worried. I didn't think you would want to date me if I got you fired. So I let you think I had a girlfriend and kept buying flowers just so I could spend time with you."

"That's…that's ridiculous."

Dean chuckles. "That's what my brother said when I explained everything to him in August. So I bought you the necklace and I was going to tell you everything. But then I saw you with Benny and I, well I thought he was your boyfriend."

"Benny is married!" You protest.

"Again, I know that now! But you two seemed awfully close and maybe I was a bit blinded by jealously." Dean ducks his head and shuffles his feet. "But I didn't want to stop seeing you. So I settled for spending a few minutes with you each week, even though I thought you loved someone else."

"That sounds familiar." You reply. You know exactly what he means because it is the echo of your own heart.

Dean steps closer his hand reaching for your cheek. "Really?"

You nod and lean closer, your heart threatening to leave your body. "Yes. Dean I…" But Dean doesn't let you finish. His cool lips find yours in a gentle caress. He pulls back his breath hot on your cheek.

"Sorry I just, I've wanted to do that for six months." You grin and grab his shirt. Pulling his lips back to yours, eager to taste and claim. You melt into each other, your heavy breathing and occasional moans filling the dark shop. You grip his hair and he caresses your neck. You slide a hand to his chest and he pulls at your hips. When you break, gasping for breath, you both smile.

Dean tucks a stray hair behind your ear. "Can I buy you dinner?" he asks, still a little breathless.

He comes into the shop the next afternoon.

"Are you coming in on Saturday now?" Rowena asks with narrowed eyes.

"Well actually…" Dean begins, scratching behind his ear.

"Dean, what can I help you with?" You appear a broad grin lighting your face. Rowena shrugs and leaves you alone; thinking that if the boy doesn't make a move soon she might have to ban him from the shop.

Dean shoots you a smirk. "I was hoping you might have some mistletoe. With Christmas being right around the corner and all."

"It's your lucky day. I think we have some in the back." You nod your head and Dean follows you to the back room, a bounce in his step.

Rowena doesn't bother to mention that there is no mistletoe in the back room nor does she comment on your disheveled state when you finally emerge empty handed twenty minutes later.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #SPN christmas bingo #flower shop au #au #female reader #mutual pining #spn fanfiction #reader insert #spn #flower shop #dean x you #dean x reader #dean Winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #iprobablyshipit91 writes #magical blooms

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integra1127grimmreaper · 11 months

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You Made Me Love You

Ike Evans Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Warning: light angst, cheating, smut, swearing

Summary: You internally battle with yourself over your love for your boss. Inspire by - Patsy Cline's - You Made Me Love You.

"There she is... Miss..." Ike's voice rang out through room as Lauren practiced coming down the stairs in preparation for her bat mitzvah.

"Daddy... stop it" Lauren moans out in annoyance.

"Alright, I'm sorry... I'll stop" Ike responds, only to do it again.

"Vera..." Lauren complains, causing Ike to chuckle when Vera swats him against the stomach.

"Alright, I'm sorry..." Ike finally ceases, stepping toward her then.

"You just- you look so beautiful... I couldn't help myself."

Smirking at his silliness, you catch the quick look he shoots you but turn your attention back to Lauren when Vera steps closer.

"Can you do it, Lo? You'll be in heels..." Vera enquires.

"And five hundred people will be watching" you comment as well.

"Heels...?" Ike remarks in astonishment.

"Five hundred people?"

"And there'll be dry ice smoke" you mention nonchalantly.

"Just, you know... curling up over your ankles."

"Really...?" Ike deadpans.

"Dried ice smoke?"

"Pink..." you smirk, causing him to roll his eyes at you.

"Well, it all sounds wonderful" Vera happily remarks.

"C'mon..." Ike scoffs.

"Pink dried ice smoke...? It's a bat mitzvah, not a beauty pageant."

"Exactly..." you smugly nod.

"It's Lo's coming of age celebration; therefore, it has to be extra special."

"As entertaining as this is..." Vera butts in giggling.

"I have to go speak with the caterers. I'll leave you two to further argue over dried ice smoke."

"We're not arguing..." Ike sighs in response.

"If you so, love" Vera giggles, patting his chest and tipping upward for a kiss.

You stood internally cringing at the scene in front of you, a fake smile plastered on your face as you pretended it wasn't bothering you. But Ike knew better, he knew how much it bothered you. No matter how huge a smile you flashed everyone around you, he would always see right through it; your eyes... your eyes were the sign that gave away your true feelings.

To everyone that saw your smile, they would believe you to be happy, yet if they had taken the time to truly look into your eyes; they would instantly see the dead look in them whenever Ike and Vera showered one another with affection around you.

"Alright" you snap out of your thoughts the minute Vera left.

"I think we should practice the father-daughter dance a bit."

Ike throughs his back with a loud groan.

"As long as I don't have to dance in pink smoke..."

"Nope" you shake your head, flashing a broad smirk.

"For you, I'll make sure it's purple instead."

Ike shoots you a warning glare, while Lauren giggles her head off at his expense.

"This song's boring..." Lauren whines halfway through the dance practice.

"Well, why don't you pick another song then" you offer.

"You ok?" Ike asks whilst Lauren was going through the music choices.

"Yeah, I'm fine" you shrug off his concern, (knowing damn well that he wasn't buying your lie), yet you continue to pretend nothing was wrong.

"Hey..." Ike grabs your hand to turn you toward fully face him yet is interrupted then by the song Lauren had chosen.

"That's not the best choice for a father-daughter dance, Lo..." you remark, turning back toward her.

"But I love Patsy Cline" Lauren protests.

"Fine" you sigh, caving into her puppy pout.

"You can listen to it finish, then back to the original chosen song."

Lauren flashes you a bright smile, a little flicker of mischief appearing in her eyes then.

"This is a beautiful song to waste. Why don't you and Dad dance to it?"

"I don't think that's a good idea..." you hastily respond.

"Aw... c'mon" Lauren whines, flashing you those puppy eyes again.

"It's fine" Ike comments, taking hold of your hand and puling you into his arms to dance.

Letting out a tense breath, you rest your right hand onto his shoulder.

"Fine."

Lauren claps in victory as Ike pulls you flushed against him; forcing you to rest your head against his chest. Finally giving up the fight, you allow your eyes to drift shut as you let the music take over.

You made me love you I didn't want to do it I didn't want to do it You made me want you And all the time you knew it I guess you always knew it

This song was actually quite fitting for the situation with Ike; you never had any intention of starting an affair with Ike when you started work for him a year ago, and yet you were. Six months into a heavy, passionate affair.

You tried your utmost best to fight the attraction you had for him since day one, but Ike was a determined man when he wanted something and that something had been you. As hard as you fought to never give into your desires, Ike eventually wore down your defenses and before you knew it; you were hopelessly in love him.

You made me happy sometimes Sometimes you made me glad But there were times, dear You made me feel so bad

Although you were at your happiest whilst in his arms with how madly you were in love him, there were times of saddest too. Those were, whenever Vera was in his arms instead of you.

They say love makes you stupid, and stupid you most definitely were, stupid enough to fall in love a married man.

You made me sigh for I didn't wanna tell you I didn't want to tell you I want some lovin', that's true Yes I do, indeed I do, you know I do

This was never going to work; you knew it most definitely. If only Ike could realize it too. This was nothing but a fantasy, one that would end up in heartache.

This wasn't what you wanted; you wanted his complete love, you wanted a real relationship, not sneaking around with another woman's husband. Yet as much as you craved it, you didn't have it in your heart to break it off with him.

You wanted him to make the decision of being with you, instead of Vera on his own.

Give me, give me, give me What I cry for You know ya got the brand o' kisses That I'd die for You know you made me love you

The song had finished yet it hadn't immediately registered in your foggy mind, not until you feel Ike lift his chin off from where it had been resting on the top of your head.

Lifting your head from his chest, you're met with the dark lust filled stare Ike usually projects whenever he wants you.

"Ahem" you take a careful step back and turn to Lauren.

"I think that's enough for today, Lo."

A bit disappointed, Lauren silently nods, shutting the record player off.

"You coming Dad?" Lauren enquires, making her way to the exit.

"You go ahead, I need to discuss some stuff with Y/N" Ike responds, causing you physically cringe whilst you pretend to be tiding up.

You made me sigh for I didn't want to tell you I didn't wanna tell you I want some lovin', that's true Yes I do, indeed I do, you know I do

You hear his footsteps coming closer to you, and when they stop directly behind you, yet continue to ignore them.

"Sweetheart-"

"Not now, Ike" you cut him off, continuing to tidy up in silence.

"Baby, look at me" Ike pleads.

Shutting your eyes for moment and taking a deep breath, you finally turn toward him.

"What is it, Isa-"

You're cut off by his lips harshly slamming onto yours.

"Are you insane?!" you rip your face from his grip with a soft screech, frantically scanning the room.

"Someone could have walked in and seen us."

"Don't care" Ike shrugs nonchalantly, causing you to roll your eyes with a scoff.

"Well, I do. The Atlantis is brimming with enough whores, I don't want to be add to that list."

Ike scowls at you, growling out then.

"You're not a whore."

"Says you" you snort in retort.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Ike grabs your arm, dragging you along the corridor towards the restroom.

"What the hell are you doing?!" you scowl as he shut and locked the door after dragging you inside.

"Reminding you who you belong to" Ike growls, spinning you around toward the mirror.

Head spinning from the sudden movement; you grasp hold of the counter to steady yourself, eyes making contact with Ike's lust blown ones in the mirror.

"Ike-"

"Shut up" Ike pushes you roughly down onto the counter, grabbing at the waistline of your capri pants to tug it down, along with your panties.

"You're going to shut up, stay right there and take whatever I give you."

You stared wide-eyed at the angry look on Ike's face reflecting in the mirror as he hastily undid his pants.

"Next time you think of giving me the cold shoulder, remember one thing" Ike grits out, kicking your feet apart, leaning over you then to notch the head of his cock against your entrance.

"You're mine..." he utters out, burying himself in you with one hash snap of his hips.

"Fuck Ike..." you whimper out at the sting of him stretching you out.

"What did I tell ya 'bout speaking...?" Ike bucks roughly into you in warning.

You bury you face into your hands to stifle any noise, only to have Ike pull your head back up by the hair, to look into the mirror.

"Nuh-uh..." Ike tisks as he harshly thrusted in and out of you.

"You're going to watch as I fuck you. Remind you, who you belong to. Got it."

Biting into your lip; you stared silently into the mirror at the dark scowl on Ike's face, attempting a weak nod as he fucked you like a man on a mission.

"Jesus, baby, ya feel so fuckin' good..." Ike groans out, leaning further onto your back and gripping hold of your hands that was on the counter for better perch as he pounded into you from behind.

It was impossible for you to respond, even if you had been allowed; soft whimpers being the only thing you could muster as Ike's heavy breathing and grunts sounded off against the side of your neck.

Lifting his face from your neck, Ike flashes you a boyish smile in the mirror.

"You're my girl, aren't you...?"

Bitting into your lip; you nod at him in response, a loud whimper spilling from them as you feel your oncoming climax begin to build.

"Fuck..." Ike shuts his eyes with a loud groan as your walls contract around him, egging him into going harder, deeper.

"That's it, Baby... Cum for me. Cum around my cock!"

And just like that, on his command; your orgasm hit like a freight train. Eyes shut tightly, nails digging into your palms; you cry out loudly as you clamp down hard around him.

Ike lets out an animalistic like growl, doing something he had never before done, sinking his teeth into your neck and cumming deep inside you then.

Give me, give me, give me What I cry for You know ya got the brand o' kisses That I'd die for You know you made me love you

"You're mine... Never letting you go..." Ike breathes heavily against your neck as you both try to steady your heart rates.

"Ike..." you murmur in a broken voice as you stare wide-eyed at both your reflections the mirror. The image of him still lying on top of your back, still buried inside you, causing panic to rise within you.

Finally lifting his head, Ike stares silently at you in the mirror for a few seconds as the possible implications of what he had done hits the both of you.

Letting out a heavy sigh; Ike lifts off from you, causing both of you to hiss out as he gently removes himself from within you.

After having redressed in silence; Ike finally breaks it by pulling you tightly into his arm.

"We'll figure it out..." he states, pressing a kiss into your hair.

"Ok..." you manage to croak out through the lump that had formed in your throat.

Pulling back a bit, Ike cups your cheek as he stared deeply into your eyes.

"I Love You."

A broad smile spreads across your lips then as you stare back at him.

"I Love You too..."

#ike evans #magic city #ike x y/n #ike x reader #isaac evans #ike #jeffrey dean morgan #jdm

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writethelifeyouwant · 2 years

Text

Birthday Surprise

Summary: When Y/N is hurt on a hunt, it’s not major, but she still decides to stay home in the Bunker to recover instead of joining Sam and Dean on the next one. Down a person, and needing some magical assistance, the boys enlist the help of Rowena. Dean is brooding the entire hunt, blaming himself for Y/N’s injury, and nearly getting himself hurt due to his distraction. Rowena, fed up with Dean’s baggage, decides to give the man an early birthday present in the hopes of making him feel better about everything.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: kinda sorta dub-con? Tags: brooding Dean, Dean’s self-loathing, Sam & Rowena bromance, the gift of knowledge, the consequences of knowledge, unintended consequences, masturbation, public masturbation (kind of), simultaneous orgasms, kissing, implied oral sex, surprise fluff Word Count: 5,432 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomkinkbingo - “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” | @spndeanbingo - Childhood Sweethearts | @supernatural-jackles TMAS - Dean Winchester

A/N: Commissioned by the wonderful @pink-sparkly-witch 💖 the idea is her brainchild and what a fun idea it is!

“You boys go, I’m fine,” Y/N stresses again as she pushes Sam and Dean out the door and into the garage.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? Because I can stay, and we can call Jody and Don–” Dean offers for what has to be the fourth or fifth time, but Y/N shuts him down yet again.

“Dean, I swear to God,” she groans, dragging a hand down her face in advert irritation. “It’s literally a sprained ankle. I have an Ace bandage, I have ice, I have Advil. I’m just not in the mood to stay cooped up in a motel room while you two run around saving the world. I’d much rather stay in the bunker where I have Netflix and a clean bathtub.” And with that, Y/N pokes Dean in the ribs abruptly so that he yelps and jumps backwards, landing just far enough away that she can swing the door closed behind the brothers Winchester with a resounding thump.

\Now, time to see about that bath, she muses to herself as she hobbles back through the bunker. And maybe another cup of tea.

“Hello, boys,” Rowena greets Sam and Dean as the door to their motel room opens for her, Sam standing to one side courteously and swinging his arm wide in invitation for the witch to enter. “How are you, Samuel?” She greets the taller of the brothers with a smile, and Sam bends down dutifully to allow her to kiss his cheek in greeting.

“Good, Rowena, thanks,” he smiles easily. “How you been?”

“Oh, well enough,” Rowena waves idly, setting down her bag and lowering herself elegantly onto the rickety wooden chair that Sam has pulled away from the table for her. “And you, Dean?” She raises her voice ever so slightly and calls out curiously, leaning forward to better see around the partition that divides the room’s amenities from the beds.

Dean is lying back on one of the beds, atop the puce-green paisley quilt, his legs crossed at the ankles and arms crossed over his chest. His head is tilted back against the brim of the headboard, his eyes shut in feigned rest, and he hadn’t moved a muscle since the witch arrived, however, it was still obvious that he wasn’t asleep, simply ignoring their present company.

“Just peachy,” the eldest brother grunts, eyes remaining stubbornly shut. Rowena rolls her own eyes towards Sam in exasperation, as if to say ‘what bee’s gotten in his bonnet’? Sam shoots a tight-lipped look of disdain toward his brother and then shifts a look of apology to Rowena.

“He’s grumpy because Y/N’s back at the bunker with a minor injury, and he’s blaming himself for no reason,” Sam stage whispers, as if he’s trying to spare Dean’s feelings but knowing full well the other man can hear him, which Dean illustrates by flipping Sam the bird from his still-unmoving position on the bed.

“Oh,” Rowena frowns sympathetically. “Is the poor dear alright?”

“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” Sam chuckles under his breath. “Dean just has a complex about everything being his fault when she’s on a hunt with us.”

“It’s not a complex if it’s actually my fucking fault,” Dean hisses under his breath, but Sam chooses to ignore him for the present in favour of catching Rowena up to speed on their present predicament.

There have been a string of strange deaths in the town of Jenson, Kentucky and Sam and Dean have a strong suspicion after speaking with some of the locals that it has to have something to do with the collection of colonial artefacts that had recently been unearthed from storage and put on display for the town’s founding anniversary. The early settlers of the area were largely Scottish, and just possibly, some of Rowena’s old acquaintances. Maybe even friends or distant relatives–her grandson had tried to make the crossing to America after all, if unsuccessfully. Sam knows that Rowena recognising the names on the original town charter and settlement rolls is a long shot, but with Y/N back at the bunker and no real clue what they were dealing with yet, he thought it was at least worth a shot to see if Rowena was amenable to helping them out. And they’re in luck.

She and Sam collect their things and head out to visit the historical society library, where they can have a look at the documents, leaving Dean to sulk on his lonesome for the time being.

“If you decide you want to cheer up and actually help, give me a call,” Sam slaps Dean’s booted feet by way of a farewell.

Dean grunts unenthusiastically but knows he needs to pull himself together. He doesn’t want Sam all on his own if whatever’s been killing people turns up where he happens to be going. “Call me if you find something,” he shouts after Sam. “Don’t let her turn you into a frog or whatever.”

“Charming, Dean,” Rowena grimaces lightly, too proud to stoop to the bait, and waltzes her way out of the motel room. “Come along, Samuel.”

Dean makes a silent whipping motion in retaliation that makes Sam feel a strong urge to stick his tongue out at his older brother, but he quashes down the immature impulse and settles for an unimpressed look before he grabs his shoulder bag and follows Rowena outside, the motel room door slowly drifting closed behind him.

Y/N putters around the bunker on her hobbled ankle easily enough. Sure it still hurts if she puts her entire weight on it or bends the ankle too far to the side, but the injury is really more of a nuisance at this point than an actual pain. If she continues her regime of keeping it elevated with an ice pack for a few hours a couple of times a day she thinks she’ll be up and running again in no time.

Glancing at her phone while she waits for the water in her pot to boil on the stove, Y/N wonders what Sam and Dean might be up to right now. They’ve been gone a few days already, and she knows Sam called Rowena in two days ago for some extra backup because he suspects the thing making the unsuspecting Kentuckians disappear may be magical, Scottish, or likely, both. Sam and Rowena have an odd kinship, sort of like what Dean has with Cas when he joins them for a hunt from time to time. Y/N likes Rowena just fine, and in reality, so does Dean, but he pretends not to. Given their rocky history, Y/N doesn’t blame Dean one bit, and honestly, it’s quite funny watching him go all grumpy whenever she’s around. His grumpy pout is equal parts cute and sexy in Y/N’s eyes.

Reasoning that it’s been a few hours since Dean had texted her to say that they were heading out into the woods to find the original dig site of the artefacts that they think might be causing the unexplained sidewalk drownings, Y/N decides it’s not too clingy to give her boyfriend a call. Just to get an update. She’s not worried or anything. The water comes to a boil with an advertising bubbling over onto the stovetop, producing a shrill hiss as the foam hits the open gas flames tickling the bottom of the pot, and Y/N quickly jumps into action, putting in the pasta and turning on the extractor fan to keep down the bubbles. Dinner now safely progressing again, she grabs her phone and flips it open to recent calls, hitting Dean’s name and letting it ring.

“Hello?” Her boyfriend’s gruff, slightly tinny voice answers the call after a few rings.

“Hey there,” Y/N smiles.

“Is everything alright?” Dean asks quickly, an edge of concern in his tone, and Y/N can’t help rolling her eyes.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one out hunting ancient Scottish fishing equipment or whatever,” she scoffs lightly, and Dean chuckles under his breath. Y/N can imagine how his cheeks might blush a little under his stubble as he responds.

“You know I worry about you when we’re gone. Fuck knows what’s hiding in some of those old boxes.”

“Well, there’s a comforting thought,” Y/N smirks to herself. “I’m fine, Dean. Promise. I just wanted to see how it was going with you guys.”

“Sam and witch-bitch have me out here spelunking through hillbilly backcountry looking for rusty fish hooks that are just as likely to kill me as give me tetanus, so you, I’m awesome,” Dean groans. It sounds like he might have found somewhere to sit down for a minute, and Y/N thinks she can hear running water in the background too.

“You’re going through caves on your own?” she raises an eyebrow unhappily. “You guys should really stick in a group if you’re going into Appalachian caves, it’s really easy to get lost up there.”

“Caves?” Dean asks.

“You said you were spelunking, that means cave exploring,” Y/N points out.

“Oh, well,” Dean clears his throat. “I’m doing whatever the river version of that is, then. No caves, don’t worry.” The running water in the background makes a little more sense now. “And we’re not really split up. I can see Sam’s antlers further upstream, we’re just spread out a bit to cover more ground.”

“Oh, well that doesn’t sound so bad the–AHH!” Y/N yelps in shock as the pasta water bubbles over again, making an evil hissing noise and splashing a bit of the boiling water onto the hand she had leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Y/N!? What’s wrong?!” Dean demands, his voice suddenly serious and sharp as iron.

“It’s fine,” Y/N pants, quickly turning down the gas on the stove and grabbing something to stir the pot with in order to dissipate the bubbles. “It’s fine,” she repeats, a little less breathlessly. “I let the water boil over and it startled me. It’s fine.”

“Y/N…” Dean growls, warning her that she had better not be lying to him.

“Telling the truth! I promise,” she giggles. “You’re just distracting me from cooking, as usual.”

“Well, I am very distracting,” her boyfriend responds in an instantly flirty manner like it’s an automatic response he has no control over. Sometimes Y/N thinks he really doesn’t.

“Yes, you are,” she agrees, teeth sinking into her lower lip thoughtfully. “Maybe when you’re done spelunking later tonight you can distract me some more. Netflix is getting boring.”

“Oh, is that so?” Dean grins, his cocky smile practically visible even over the phone. “You need something different to concentrate on tonight, sweetheart? Something a little more… entertaining?”

“Well, if you’re not too busy,” Y/N shrugs even though she knows he can’t see her, trying to play it off as if she’s not overly eager for the attention. Downright desperate would be a better description actually, but Dean doesn’t need that ego boost just now.

“Oh, for you baby, never too…” Dean trails off. Y/N hears a splash, and what might be a garbled shout in the distance. “I’ve gotta go.”

The line goes dead, and Y/N stands mutely in front of the pasta. It’s nearly ready, but she’s not really hungry anymore.

Dean helps Sam limp back through the motel door, the taller brother’s arm slung over Dean’s shoulder and his arm wrapped around Sam’s waist, carefully avoiding the gash in his side. Rowena glides along behind them, unconcerned as if she’s bored by the proceedings. Goddamn Kelpie had gotten the jump on Sam while Dean had been on the phone to Y/N. Yet another injury that can be added to the list of things that are Dean’s fault.

Sam sits gingerly on the edge of the bed while Dean goes for the whiskey and the first aid kit, and Rowena sits opposite Sam on the other bed, giving him a sympathetic once-over.

“Does it sting, dearie?” she asks as Sam peels off his t-shirt, wincing when the cotton unsticks itself from his skin where the blood has already dried.

“Yeah,” Sam grunts, raising a brow at the witch. “How’d you know.”

“Kelpies have highland nettle essence in their tails,” she explains sagely in her lilting voice. “Getting whipped with the end isn’t fatal, but it’ll sting and itch something fierce for a while.”

“Great,” Dean grunts, kneeling in front of Sam to inspect the wound. He uncorks the bottle of whiskey with his teeth and splashes a little over the area to wash off the tacky blood. Sam grunts, biting back the pain, and Dean’s face twitches in a conflicted mash of a smirk and a grimace; half big-brotherly pride, half big-brotherly guilt.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam huffs in exasperation, noticing the look on his brother’s face.

“If I hadn’t been on the phone–” Dean begins to argue, already beating himself up, but Sam cuts across him angrily.

“No! Cut the crap, Dean! You were at least a hundred yards away when the thing grabbed me. You wouldn’t have stopped its tail slicing me if you hadn’t been on the phone unless you can teleport like Cas and forgot to tell me about it,” Sam raises a stern brow in challenge and Dean almost lets himself be cowed but tries again to protest.

“I was distracted worrying about Y/N, if I hadn’t wandered so far away then maybe I’d have gotten back quicker,” Dean reasons.

“And maybe the Kelpie would have gotten the jump on you instead’a me? Is that what you’re sayin’?” Sam asks angrily. Dean merely shrugs, avoiding Sam’s eyes as he roots through the first aid kit looking for gauze and medical tape. “Dean, we’re both hunters here. We’re both shouldering the risks of going after these things. And it’s the same with Y/N. She knows the risks of hunting and she takes responsibility for herself when she’s out here with us. You’re not going to be the only one to ever get hurt while we’re hunting, and quite frankly you shouldn’t be, otherwise, you’d probably be dead. It’s not like these are serious hurts, I don’t even need stitches!”

“Y/N is in this because of me,” Dean growls defensively as if Sam’s suggestion that he’s not responsible for every little paper cut anyone around him gets is actually offensive. “She never woulda known about hunting or monsters or been around any of that crap if we weren’t together, so anything that happens to her is on me. And anything that happens to my little brother? Of course, that’s on me too!”

“Tell you what is gonna be your fault, is when I punch you in the face in a minute for being such an idiot!” Sam scolds Dean, tearing the first aid kit away from him in irritation to finish tending to his own wound. “Go call Y/N so she knows nobody died. She’s probably worrying her head off right now.”

Dean glares at Sam but ceases arguing, hauling himself up from the floor between the beds and stomping outside to call Y/N and let her know they’re all okay. Mostly. Sam rolls his eyes at the back of the slamming door as Dean exits to the parking lot, and the shake of Rowena’s red curls catches his attention.

“What?” he asks, eyeing her contemplative look with a hint of apprehension.

“Oh, nothing,” she sighs heavily. “I was simply lamenting the fact that he feels so burdened by it all.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam scoffs, wincing a little as he spreads some antibiotic ointment over his cut. It’s not deep, but it is beginning to itch like a motherfucker. “I’m a big boy, I can handle myself. And Y/N is just as capable. I think he’s worried that deep down we secretly blame him too, or something. But I guess there’s no way to convince him we don’t if he doesn’t want to believe it.” The younger brother shrugs in resignation.

“Oh…I don’t know about that,” Rowena muses. “A way for him to know that you two don’t blame him, you say?”

“Yeah…” Sam looks at the witch hesitantly while a smile blooms across her rose-pink lips.

“His birthday is next week, right?” she checks and Sam nods affirmatively. “I may just pop out and get you boys something for dinner. And maybe a little treat, as an early birthday celebration.”

“Rowena–” Sam stands and starts to go after her, but she holds up a hand to stop him.

“It’s nothing nefarious, Samuel. It’s a simple spell, temporary. He’ll never know until it kicks in.”

“Until what kicks in?”

“It’s a sort of mutual feeling,” Rowena explains. “Something that won’t let him read thoughts so much as emotions, sensations. I can do it with wee Y/N since I sense that’s who he feels truly upset about. Am I right?”

Sam nods slowly. It actually sounds like exactly the kind of thing that could convince Dean that they’re telling the truth when they say they’re alright and that they don’t blame him. And having the stick removed from his ass would probably make Dean better able to concentrate when he’s hunting if he’s not worrying so much about Y/N instead of looking after himself.

“He won’t know until it’s done?” Sam checks. Dean is not a fan of magic, he’d never agree to let them spell him if he has a choice in it.

“Won’t suspect a thing,” Rowena smirks.

Dean wakes up feeling a wave of energy that he almost never experiences first thing in the morning. He sits up on the crappy motel bed with a sore back but somehow simultaneously feeling like he’s gotten a sound night of ten hours of sleep on his memory foam mattress back in the bunker. There’s a faint hum in his ears like he can hear his blood as it drifts through his body, pumping from heart to head to toes and back up the circuit. There’s a slight twinge in his ankle that he doesn’t remember being there when he went to bed, but it really just feels like pins and needles or like he’s slept on it funny. Getting up gingerly, he puts his weight on both feet and finds a dull soreness in the limb but nothing debilitating.

Weird, he thinks to himself, yawning as he stumbles towards the coffee machine and bangs through making a pot. The cupcakes Rowena had brought last night with dinner are still sitting on the counter next to the machine, two empty holes in the container and two more cupcakes still sitting there, appetisingly. Dean grabs one and crams it into his mouth over the course of two bites while he makes his way to the bathroom to get cleaned up for the day. In the shower, he contemplates doing something with the half-there morning wood he’s sporting but is suddenly desperate to get his coffee and get on the road to start the drive back to Kansas–and Y/N.

It’s a nearly fourteen-hour drive, so it will be a fucking long day, but they can do it in one if he speeds on some of the country highways, Dean reasons. There’s a foreign warmth in his chest that’s making him feel like he absolutely has to get back and see Y/N today. As soon as possible. Somehow, he can just tell that she’s really missing him right now. Not that he’s not missing her, because of course he is, but this doesn’t feel like his feeling. And that thought alone is fucking weird. How the hell would he be feeling a feeling that isn’t his own? It should make him feel a little pig-headed, imagining that Y/N is desperately missing him, but he tries not to beat himself up about it.

Y/N told him she missed him when they were on the phone last night, after all. It’s not like he’s imagining it or just inventing it out of thin air. There’s always a bit of a pull when they’re apart from each other. That’ll happen when you wind up dating/living with the first girlfriend you’ve ever had. There were other girlfriends between Y/N and Dean separating and them getting back together, considering they had only been eight the first time they ‘dated’. But there’s always been a sense of fate drawing them back together, of them not being meant to stay apart for too long. Fuck, when did he start thinking about it so sappily? Obviously, Dean’s always felt that way, but he doesn’t remember ever thinking about it in exactly those terms before. What is going on?

Dean sips his coffee, not even remembering pouring it for himself in the fog of thoughts and feelings his brain has become this morning, and he decides not to worry about it too much. It’s kind of nice, actually, feeling so confident in how much they love each other. Thinking about Y/N isn’t leaving him with the same bitter taste of ‘what if…’ that it typically does, and he doesn’t know why, but he’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

Y/N looks around the bunker at a loss, feeling a profound sense of boredom and a deep longing for Dean to be home already. She checks the clock on the wall of the library again, in the vain hope that more than a few minutes have passed since the last time she looked up, but no luck. Checking her messages, there’s nothing new from Dean in the past few hours, which makes sense because he’s driving. She hadn’t been lying to him on the phone yesterday when she’d said Netflix was starting to get boring. She’s watched as much Friends as she can stomach right now, and she promised Sam she wouldn’t download the new Game of Thrones episode without him, so she’s at a bit of a loss for what to watch to while the hours away.

With a smirk to herself, Y/N thinks about what Dean would do in this situation. Just watch porn. Deciding to head to the kitchen for a snack, Y/N makes her way to the refrigerator and stands in front of the industrial silvers coolers, scanning the shelves for something that appeals. She really isn’t particularly hungry, she realises as she stares aimlessly at the food. Except for… There’s a small throb low in her stomach, but it isn’t hunger per se. It is a desire. A need. The ‘what would Dean do’ possibility floats back across her mind and Y/N purses her lips.

You know what, why the fuck not?

Dean stares blankly at the mostly empty highway through the Impala’s dashboard, eyes unconsciously darting back and forth across the lanes of traffic and fields of dirt that will be wheat or corn when spring hits in a few months. They go over a pothole that he doesn’t notice in time to swerve around, and the chassis jostles beneath him. Randomly, a twinge of arousal thrums through him, deep in his hips, like a pulse of bright heat. Just for a second, and then it burns out again. He feels a look of confusion cross his face, wondering where the hell that had come from. Sure he loves his car, but not that much.

Must have been the pothole, he thinks after a brief interrogation of his thoughts over the past few minutes, unable to come up with another explanation.

Y/N settles back into the memory foam mattress comfortably, on Dean’s side of the bed, pulling his pillows around her to surround herself with his familiar scent. Under the comforter, she slides her sweatpants down her legs and then brings her fingers back up to her panties, teasing the small bundle of nerves between her legs through the fabric while she browses for something… stimulating to watch on her phone. It takes a few minutes of scrolling and lazy touching, but she eventually settles on something that looks like it will be more than suitable.

Pulling her hand back out from beneath the covers, she reaches out for the toy she left out, now eager to get down to business.

Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat again, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. He’s driving his car with his giant little brother crunched into the seat next to him and Metallica on the radio. Perfectly normal, everyday situation. Nothing exciting or even remotely arousing about his current set of circumstances. But for the past ten minutes or so, he’s felt himself growing steadily more and more alert in the pants department. And try as he might to think of dead puppies or wendigos or Sam, he just can’t seem to shake the feeling.

There’s a sharp twitch of arousal and suddenly he’s at full mast, nothing slow about the build-up like the past few minutes, and his hips jerk off the seat in surprise.

“Dude, what is going on?” Sam demands in irritation, looking up from his phone and across the bench seat at his brother. Dean feels himself blush in humiliation and frustration at not understanding what the fuck is happening to him, praying that Sam won’t notice anything untoward.

His hopes do not pan out.

“Dean, what the fuck?!”

Y/N is definitely not bored anymore. She’s gone through the first video, and a second, and she’s very much enjoyed her new entertainment material. Way better than Friends. Since it’s still a while until she’s expecting Dean and Sam back though, she decides to just go ahead and make an afternoon of it, working herself up and then backing off when she starts to get a little too close to the edge. The constant buzz and pressure from her clit-sucking vibrator are perfect for helping her to just relax and enjoy the pleasure washing over her. It’s been a while since she’s had the opportunity to really enjoy edging herself, so she’s milking this chance for all it’s worth.

With a pang of desire between her legs, she clicks on the video title that has just popped up on the screen with enthusiasm. Doggy Fucking In My Classic Car. The car isn’t the right decade or manufacturer, but it is black, with a black interior, and the guy in the video is lean with short, light brown hair. It’s close enough. When he goes down on the girl in the backseat and memories flood her mind, Y/N lets herself moan loudly in appreciation.

Dean moans. He flat-out moans. Like he’s in a fucking porno.

“Seriously!? Dean, what the fuck?!” Sam shouts in disgust, giving Dean a look as if he’s a piece of trash they just fished out of the bottom of a lake.

“I don’t know!” Dean shouts back, slamming the centre of the wheel in anger and accidentally honking the horn at a passing Honda, which honks back at him angrily. “Fuck,” he shudders, his dick actually jumping in excitement, and the pressure around its crown seems to be increasing somehow and Dean thinks he actually might start crying it feels so good and so frustrating at the same time. Because it’s been doing this for a fucking hour.

“Dean!” Sam shouts, hand shooting out to grab the wheel and redirect the Impala because Dean’s just let go of the wheel entirely and almost let them swerve into the next lane of traffic. Dean is panting, his hands pressing desperately into his lap as if somehow the pressure will keep him from feeling like he’s about to cum in his jeans. It only makes it worse. With a monumental effort, Dean makes himself focus back on the road and retakes control of the wheel from Sam long enough to ease them off onto the shoulder of the highway, parked safely out of the way.

“You’re gonna have to drive, Sammy,” Dean grunts, fumbling with the handle of his door and toppling out. He makes his way to the passenger side and collapses against the frame of the door that Sam leaves open for him. “Fuuuck,” he moans again, biting his lip, trying to keep quiet, but it’s becoming exponentially harder by the second. He’s gonna cum, he realises in horror. Right here, on the side of the road, with his brother right fucking there, sitting in the car two feet away. And Dean’s gonna cum in his pants.

He wants to reach in and jerk himself off, help himself get there and get it over with, but he can’t exactly do that when his hips are currently at Sam's height while he’s slumped against the car, panting heavily, breath catching in his throat. Almost. There.

Y/N stretches out with a sigh when she’s finished, having worked herself through a couple of tiny orgasms following her big fall over the edge. It’s always easier to force herself into multiple when she’s been edging, and now every bit of her body feels warm and floppy and nice. Rolling over onto her side, she pulls Dean’s pillow under her head and cradles it in her arm, letting her eyes slide shut for a nap.

Dean is going to hang Sam from the fucking rafters. And he’s gonna put a magical hit out on Rowena. He can’t fucking believe they would put a spell on him like that. How fucking invasive. For Dean and Y/N! Yeah. Sam and Rowena are dead meat. But Sam says the spell will only last for forty-eight hours, so that’s a relief at least. And Dean since the damage has already been done, Dean is going to take advantage of it while he can. No use crying over spilt spellwork.

“Honey, I’m home!” Dean bangs through the door to the bunker and down the ironwork stairs with more excitement than belongs to him because he now knows that part of what he’s feeling is coming from Y/N thanks to Rowena’s spell. Said girlfriend comes skidding around the corner into the hallway and runs into his arms with relief.

“I missed you,” Y/N mumbles into Dean’s shoulder, and it’s so so weird to feel the love that’s radiating off of her as Dean and as Y/N. It’s overwhelming, the depth of feeling that’s there, and it makes Dean’s breath catch in his chest as he crushes her to him, pressing a long kiss to the top of her head, smelling a comforting combination of her shampoo and the sweet scent she gets when she’s just woken up from sleeping.

“I missed you too, baby,” Dean smiles, tilting her chin up and dropping a small kiss on her lips. Sweet and chaste. “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” he whispers against her mouth, and Y/N jerks back, startled. He levels her with a cocky smirk as she blinks at him, her face pinching in embarrassment.

“How did you know?” Y/N can’t look him in the eye, and Dean chuckles under his breath at how cute and innocent she can be sometimes. No one would ever think she could get embarrassed if they saw her in the bedroom the way he’s seen her.

“I’ll explain,” Dean grabs her hand and starts pulling her toward their bedroom. “Did you use your toys?” he asks, eyes darkening as he takes in the disarray of their bedcovers and the slightly open nightstand drawer.

“Yeah,” Y/N answers breathlessly, the shadow of a giggle.

“The sucking one?” Dean asks knowingly. He had run through the possibilities in his head endlessly on the drive home, and considering the sensations he’d been privy to, that’s the toy that seemed to fit the most. He can see now why she likes it as much as she does.

“Seriously, how the fuck do you know?!” Y/N demands, letting Dean push her down on the bed and kissing him back eagerly when he climbs over her.

“I’ll explain,” he repeats elusively, kissing down Y/N’s body and peeling her clothes off as he goes until she’s spread out and naked beneath him. He presses her thighs open, exposing the glistening folds of her cunt. He wonders if that’s from her afternoon’s activities or if that’s just appeared since he’s come home. “First, I need to know what it feels like to have this pussy fucked on my tongue.”

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blodreinaghost · 4 months

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#fem oc #manips #wattpad #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #the winchester brothers #graphics #wattpad cover #phoebe tonkin #magic #demon oc #demon girl #satanism #satanic #hot as hell #dean x reader

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trektraveler · 2 years

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Practically Magic Chapter Six: The Black Dog

Summary: Growing up in the same tiny mountain town, Y/N Owens and Dean Winchester despised each other. The only thing they ever agreed on was their need to escape. Life took them in opposite directions and neither of them ever looked back. So, when their paths cross over a series of gruesome murders in their hometown it was no surprise that old friction heated up again.

Dean never dreamed he’d be teaming up with a psychic, the FBI frowned on that sort of thing, but he was desperate. When that psychic turned out to be Y/N Owens, Dean knew two things for sure. One, Y/N was the real deal and two, he was in real trouble.

Pairing: Agent!Dean x Psychic!Reader, Dean x Reader, AU Dean x You Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Bobby Singer

Warnings: Slow Burn, Serial Killer Elements, Witches, Haters to Lovers, Claustrophobic Elements, Murder Scenes

Author’s Notes: This is an AU taking elements from the film Practical Magic and applying them to a fictional world where Dean Winchester is an FBI Agent. You will find parallels from that movie here, some quotes and other elements that capture the essence of the world of the Owens Witches. Hopefully! Additional Author’s Notes: This is a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Chapter Six: The Black Dog Word Count: 3819

“You spend all your energy trying to fit in, be normal. But you’re never going to fit in, because we’re different!” – Gillian Owens

You efficiently shuffled the over-sized deck of cards as you sat at the kitchen table. The familiar smooth edges and worn corners soothed your nerves as you repeated the mindless task. It had been a week since you started working with the Winchesters and so far, you hadn’t been much of an asset. You’d had no visions, no prophetic dreams, not so much as a spooky shiver! Nothing! You felt frustrated and utterly useless. It was only a matter of time before the killer struck again and the pressure to produce something tangible was intense.

Sam was the most understanding; patience being one of his many strengths. He seemed pleased to have you around and always asked for your opinion on potential suspects. Although, you produced nothing of substance, he was quick to assure you that your help was needed and welcome.

Dean, on the other hand, avoided you almost entirely. He shut himself up in his office, pouring over case files and drinking vats of sour coffee. When he did emerge, it was to leave and interview potential witnesses or revisit crime scenes. Or brood. Lord knows he’d been an expert at that when you were children and he’d perfected his technique in recent years. You couldn’t help but notice that even Sam’s deputies steered clear of him. Silverton was a small town and shared their law enforcement with three other communities. This was likely the first time these local boys had teamed up with someone of Dean’s clout. The whole station was a bundle of nerves and anxiety.

Which is exactly why you were in Gran’s kitchen. You needed space to breathe and to get your spirit in alinement to receive.

“Dear me, back to the training wheels, is it?”

You continued to shuffle, watching your grandmother glide over to the stove and put a kettle on. “Tarot is a perfectly viable tool for divination.”

“Oh, I am well aware… that is my deck, you’re using.”

“I have better luck with yours.”

You laid out two cards in quick succession. Five of wands and the four of cups. Conflict and melancholy.

Viv glanced over your shoulder and clicked her tongue. “Those cards always were on the sharp side.”

You groaned, “It’s not going well.”

She filled two cups with steaming tea, offering one to you as she sat across from you. “I could have told you that. Nothing ever goes well with the Winchesters.”

“Not even with Sam?” You asked, peering innocently over the rim of your teacup.

“Samuel’s good nature is not enough to counter the chaotic nature of his brother. He’s not safe, Y/N.”

“He’s an FBI Agent and Sam is a sheriff. Public safety is in their job description.”

“Pretending ignorance doesn’t suit, so let’s not dance around the subject. Its Dean who concerns me and should concern you.” Viv stirred a spoonful of honey into her tea. “I nearly lost you because of him and here you are… giving him an opportunity to do it all again, this time permanently.”

You looked down, unable to face the directness of your grandmother’s gaze. “It’s in the past, Gran.”

“The past has a way of repeating itself. Especially in this family.”

“Not this time.” You rubbed your thumb over the palm of your right hand, another childhood habit. “The ties that bound us together were severed long ago. Nothing is going to happen with Dean, I’ve made sure of it.”

Remorse reflected in Viv’s dark eyes, “I know, my darling girl. But that doesn’t make it easy. For either of you.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you agreed. “But stopping this killer is more important that our comfort. It’s the gift. The call, I have to answer it.”

Vivienne reached across the table and flipped over the third card, The Moon. Intuition.

“So, it seems. Take the Obsidian, the weather is turning.”

You maneuvered your old Jeep down the winding road that would deposit you in the middle of downtown Silverton. Reliable, durable, and older than you, it had been a birthday present when you turned sixteen. Black with a double pinstripe in neon purple. You parked it in the garage when you left to seek your fortune, never knowing that you’d one day be right back where you started. A Stevie Nicks cassette was still stuck in the ancient tape deck and seemed appropriate.

Gran’s Black Obsidian pendant was hidden under your shirt and sat over your heart. The large piece of volcanic glass was a sword against negativity and dated all the way back to the Mayans. Your clothes were black too, and close fitting. Modern day armor, you donned when you needed to project strength you didn’t quite feel. Fake it ‘til you make it. Today certainly fell into that category.

You parked in front of the sheriff’s station and checked your reflection in the rearview before getting out. The tousled pixie cut still did its job of accentuating your features while conveying confidence with a touch of sex appeal. A small, petty part of you hoped Dean was struggling as much as you were. Why should you be the only one squirming? If looking good was the best revenge, then you were going to serve it hot!

The wind that had been blustering all morning came to an abrupt stop as you reached for the front door of the station. There was a smell of something burning, smoldering and sulfuric. You felt eyes on you, boring into your back and when you slowly turned there was a huge, black dog. Eerie and still as death, its eyes burned. Drilling into yours with intensity that stole your breath. Serpentine smoke slithered and swirled around its feet. It threw its head back and let out the most horrific sound.

A howl that sounded like it came from the gates of Hell itself.

Then it was gone! Jagged images like broken glass tore through your mind and snippets of conversation in strange voices. The information was overwhelming and crashed over you in unrelenting waves until your head threatened to split apart!

All you wanted was for it to stop, but you couldn’t break free. Was this what happened to your less fortunate ancestors with the sight? Is this how they went mad? Luckily, you were saved from the same grisly fate by two hands on your shoulders pulling you back into the present.

“Y/N! What the hell are you doing?!”

The dog, the smoke, the hellish images all gone. Only the jade green eyes and a sinful mouth pulled into a tight line remained. Those hands shook you roughly and you blinked.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me! What were you thinking running into the middle of the street like that? Old man Perkins nearly flattened you with his pickup!”

Your brows drew together in confusion. Then, glancing around, you understood. You weren’t in front of the sheriff’s station anymore, you were three blocks over on Main Street. Judging from the vehicles stopped in the intersection and shaken drivers, you’d walked right into oncoming traffic.

“Oh.”

“Oh, she says.” Dean straightened to his full height and ran a hand over his mouth. “Jesus, Pip... you nearly gave me a coronary.”

You brought a hand to your head and looked around for any trace of your vision. “Sorry, there was this… black dog. And I heard…”

Dean saw your hand tremble and he softened. He was in the coffee shop when he saw you standing on the sidewalk staring off into nothing. The vacant look on your face pricked at his instincts. He was already heading for the door when you darted out into the street. A hatchback missed you by inches and Dean reached you just in time to snatch you from the path of that ancient Chevy truck.

“Come on,” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get out of here.”

Twenty minutes later you were seated on the sofa in Dean’s office. A mug of hot tea in your hands helped you to finally stop shaking. You’d had countless premonitions in your life, they could be intense, but this was different. Never had a vision displaced you in reality. You weren’t sure what to make of it, but for the moment you were content to keep your own council on the matter. The Winchesters wouldn’t understand it and if your Gran ever caught wind of it… well, best to not think about that.

The door opened and Sam walked in with Dean behind him. They made an intimidating pair, and you sat up a bit straighter out in spite of yourself.

“Hey, Y/N. Feeling better?” asked Sam, leaning against the desk.

“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I know you were worried.”

The lanky giant scratched the back of his neck, “I just don’t have a lot of experience with psychics. I wasn’t sure how to help.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, “Sam, you’ve known me since kindergarten. A quiet space and a little time usually fix just about anything.”

“So, you remember it then? Your vision?”

It was Dean who asked. Your gaze snapped to his in surprise. He’d never been exactly at ease with your magic roots, even whispering about visions seemed to make him squirm. It must be his unfailing professionalism that had him treating the very idea with a measure of respect. Or desperation.

“I remember, but the information is kind of all over the place. Disjointed.”

“Did you see him?”

“No,” you replied with a frown. “But I heard him. I think he was talking on the phone… he said something about going home.”

“Home where?” asked Sam.

“I saw something in his hand, but I don’t know what it means.” You walked over to the desk and scribbled the strange words down on a steno pad. “His voice was smarmy, smooth like a Bond villain selling used cars.”

“Dieu et mon Droit,” Dean muttered, reading over your shoulder.

“Latin. Um… God and my right,” Sam supplied. “It’s on the UK passport.”

“Bond villain.” Dean paced as he thought, “Going home to England. So what? He’s skipping the country?”

“He won’t be gone long,” you replied. You closed your eyes and repeated the words of the killer, “Back by the new moon, Mrs. Kennedy waits for no one.”

Dean moved to a massive cork board that took up the entire south wall of his office. It was covered with visual evidence. Pictures of each of the victims, crime scenes, possible suspects. Newspaper articles and a timeline of the murders. Many of the papers had multiple pinholes in them, obviously moved around countless times as the Winchesters worked the case.

He tapped the calendar with his index finger, “That tracks. So far, he’s dropped a body every two weeks, give or take. It’s all part of his ritual. The hearts, the body placement, the timing.”

Sam joined him at the board, “Is there a Kennedy in the suspect pool? The profile didn’t peg him as married, but that could always be wrong.”

“I don’t think it is, this dude has the ultimate love/hate relationship with women.”

The voices of Sam and Dean faded into the background as you studied the board. You’d seen it countless times and it always seemed very random. Aside from the fact that all the victims were women, they had no other qualities that linked them. They were from different backgrounds, ethnicities, professions, and ages. Beautiful, vibrant women. Lives cut short in their prime, some even before their prime. The frozen bride had been younger than you originally thought, only fifteen.

One more picture came into focus in your mind, and something clicked. Your hand went to your churning stomach as your thoughts stumbled upon a disturbing realization.

“She’s a crone.”

Sam turned to you, “You saw her?”

You gave a nod, “Elderly, white hair, hunched back, nailed painted bright pink.”

Dean arched an eyebrow, “Crone? That’s not very P.C.”

“It’s a technical term, not for her age but for what she represents.” You wedged your way between the brothers and began marking out the calendar. “She’s part of the Triple Goddess.”

Always quick minded, Sam caught on first, “Maiden, Mother, Crone. You might be on to something; it fits with the timing.”

“The Triple Goddess represents the different stages of womanhood as they correspond with the phases of the moon. The Maiden, or in this case virgin, is youthful and pure. Represented by the waxing moon.” You circled the estimated time and date of death for the body discovered at your party.

“The Mother is the full moon. Abundant and fertile.” You added two circles that matched up with two of the victims.

“The Crone,” you circled the date from Sierra Thompson’s murder. “She’s the waning moon, wisdom and courage.”

Dean’s face hardened as he considered the calendar, “With this kind of ritual killing, its more about when the kill is performed rather than the discovery of the bodies. Especially since he’s harvesting their hearts.”

“So, Mrs. Kennedy completes the cycle for this group of murders, what about the first group? There’s only two of them.” Sam speculated, “Maybe he didn’t get to it.”

“That’s not his M.O.” Dean muttered with a frown, “He’s planned this whole thing down to the last detail, he wouldn’t just miss one because he got busy.”

“It’s called the Triple Goddess for a reason; you can’t have one without the others.” Your knees went weak and leaned against the desk. You felt drained as you did the day you went to the yellow house with Sam. Your temple still ached from the vision. Although you’d be hard pressed to admit it, this was taking a toll on you in more ways than one.

“There is another Maiden, you just haven’t found her yet.”

Dean insisted on driving you home. And on picking you up the following day, since your Jeep was now stranded in town. The man was relentless when his protectiveness flared up.

“Your color’s not right,” he grumbled, helping you into the passenger’s seat. “I’m not going to let you pass out behind the wheel and drive that hunk of crap off the side of the mountain.”

“I thought you appreciated a classic vehicle.”

“I do when they’re properly maintained. When was the last time that deathtrap had an oil change?”

“Um, senior year?” you guessed.

“Pathetic.” Dean turned down the narrow road leading to the Owen’s house. “And your tires are practically bald, you’d be safer on a three-legged mule.”

“Maybe you’d prefer I ride my broom.”

“Can… can you do that?”

A small smile tugging at your lips as you turned your attention to the passing scenery.

He mulled it over for a minute, “Does it have a seatbelt?”

A few minutes later, Dean escorted you to the front door, his hand on the small of your back. You weren’t sure if the slight contact was meant to reassure you or him, either way it was welcome.

“Come in,” you said, stepping over the threshold. “I’ll go grab those books I was telling you about.”

Dean watched you disappear down the hallway, your stride quick as you navigated your family home. It had been years since he’d stepped foot in the Owen’s house, and it hadn’t changed a day. Still a fascinating mix of Victorian apothecary and Gothic romance. He’d grown up hearing all kinds of rumors about the place. Everything from ghostly apparitions appearing on the widow’s walk to the untimely deaths of every man who dared pursue an Owen’s woman. He never put any stock in it. To him, your house was just like you. Hauntingly beautiful, utterly warm, and a complete mystery.

Growing bolder, he ventured into the Great Room. Still a bit too fancy for his tastes, with its velvet settees and fringed curtains, but it smelled the same. Like jasmine and incense. There were countless pictures in heavy silver frames on every surface. Some in black and white, obviously family heirlooms. Others were more recent. Some of Vivienne Owens in her youth; wearing a mini skirt and Gogo boots. Grinning as she stood proudly next to the Compendium, a sold sign under her arm. Your mother, a fragile beauty who died when you were six.

Dean came to the collection on the fireplace and stopped. His own face stared back at him. He pulled the picture down from its perch and muttered a curse.

“Son of a bitch.”

It was the night of your senior prom. Sammy was supposed to be your date, but he was laid up with the flu. Dean was back for a few days before he left again to start a new job in Denver. He never could deny his little brother anything, so he showed up at your house wearing one of his Dad’s old suits and a grin.

“Thinking of better days?”

Startled out of his reminiscing, he quickly turned to you. “Ah, yeah. Well, no…I just haven’t seen this in a long time.”

You set down your stack of books on a small table as you took the frame from his hands. Your warm fingers brushed his and a small zap passed between the two of you. If you noticed it, you didn’t mention it. Dean watched the light come to your eyes as you gazed at the picture and smiled. You were standing close enough for him to detect your perfume. You always seemed to smell like the season, today it was heady and warm. Like clove studded oranges with a touch of amber.

“I really loved that dress. Gran had it up in the shop for ages, I must have tried it on a dozen times.”

“It was beautiful,” Dean agreed, his voice going a bit rough. “You were beautiful. Still are.”

You never were sure what to say when a man complimented you. Somehow, hearing them express their attraction made you automatically shut down. Not with Dean. You wanted him to go on and on and on. In that deep, honeyed whiskey voice that warmed you to the core.

This was a disaster.

“Dean…”

“I’m surprised you held on to it, after everything that happened. How things went down… I figure you’d burn it or use it for target practice.”

You placed the frame back in its place of honor on the mantle. “The bad things that happen don’t erase the good things. I needed reminding of that for a long time. This was a good day, a great day. So much was lost, it didn’t seem fair to lose that too.”

Dean looked down, his mouth pulling into a line. “Yeah.”

“There was something else,” you said after a beat. “About that vision today. There was a black dog.”

“I take it you’re not talking about a Labrador.”

“It pops up in all kinds of lore, usually interpreted as a death omen but this one was more specific than ones I’ve read about. I wasn’t sure at first, but now… I think it was a Hellhound.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up then came down as he realized that you were serious. “A Hellhound? That’s a real thing?”

“It wasn’t just a warning; it was a threat.” Your big, brown eyes betrayed you. You were afraid for him. “Dean, please just… just be careful. This guy is playing games with you now, but that’s just the prelude. He wants you dead.”

He drew you into his arms and held you tightly. His warm hand cupped the nape of your neck while his chin came to rest on the top of your head. You wrapped your arms around his torso and buried your face in his chest. You fit together perfectly and for one brief moment, everything was right with the world.

“It’s gonna be alright, Sweetheart.” He ran his hand up and down your back, comforting you, “We are going to make it through this with flying colors, you’ll see.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, on top of my years of experience in the field and the fact that my brother the boy genius is on the case, I’ve got this kick-ass witch helping me.”

“Really? Anyone I know?” You sassed.

“Maybe… she’s this pretty, little redhead with dangerous curves and big brown eyes. The kind of eyes a man can get lost in. And at the same time, he’s found. Cause when she looks at you, it’s like you’re being seen for the first time. Because she knows you, all the way down to your bones. And she never turns away from what she sees, even though she should.”

Your eyes widened at his words, then shuttered closed as he ghosted his fingers over your jawline. A tiny electric current raced along your skin, growing stronger as he maintained contact. You were certain that if he continued, you’d literally light up like a Christmas tree!

He curled a finger under your chin and ran his thumb over your bottom lip, causing your face to tip up to his. Consenting to his silent request. His lips were mere inches from yours when the grandfather clock sounded from deep within the house. Six chimes of the bell noted the hour and broke the spell.

Dean released you, his hands fisted at his sides, as if he really had to work not to reach for you again.

“I better get going,” he said, picking up the books as you blinked up at him. “I’m really going to be in trouble if Viv catches me.”

You took a steadying breath, trying to regain your composure. “The big, bad FBI guy isn’t scared of a little old lady like my Gran, is he?

“Hell, yes he is! Last time I was here she threatened to turn me into something with four legs and a tail.”

You had to laugh at that, “Yeah, I remember. Still, she wouldn’t actually go through with it… I don’t think.”

“Agree to disagree, Sweetheart.”

“In that case, here,” you unhooked the silver chain around your neck and fixed it around Dean’s instead. The pendant fell to rest over his heart. “Obsidian, for protection.”

He tucked it under his shirt then quickly kissed your forehead and took off towards the door.

“I’ll be by at eight a.m. to pick you up, okay?”

“Sure,” you replied, following him to the foyer.

The wind blew in when he pulled the door open. Bitter. Swirling with fallen leaves and melancholic nostalgia.

You wrapped your arms around yourself in an effort to ward off the chill. And the regret as you watched Dean Winchester walk out the door, again.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

The corner of his mouth lifted into not quite a smile, but his eyes carried kindness. “Lock up behind me.” TAGLIST @deans-baby-momma @muchamusedaboutnothing @peterpangirl21 @ficbreaks @teresa-67 @sacriceria @verytoadpapersoul @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @savspersonalproperty @deanwanddamons @jenwinchester40 @perpetualabsuridty @starryeyeseunbyul @sexyvixen7 @katsbratsupernaturalwhore @agirlwithdemonblood @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @imthedoctorlove @roonyxx @smellingofpoetry @deanwinchesterswitch @thinkinghardhardlythinking @pink-sparkly-witch @barewithme02 @deadlynightshadeindustries @jc-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @kinderousmaster @lyarr24 @aphorism-001 @onlinecemetery @allonsy-yesiwill @myeagletoadmaker @panicking-outside-the-disco @haylie-spnfam4ever @lauraashley93 @foxyjwls007 @bluedragonflylady @foxyjwls007

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #agent!dean x psychic!reader #agent!dean x reader #spn fic #supernatural #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen x reader #practically magic

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wildwestdean · 3 months

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impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park.

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you.

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait.

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.”

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach.

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together.

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like.

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.”

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.”

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets.

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be.

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo.

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun.

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.”

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.”

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building.

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock.

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?”

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.”

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold.

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you.

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?”

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.”

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.”

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance.

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs.

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker.

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed.

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs.

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall.

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way.

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles.

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you.

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere.

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun.

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!”

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision.

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you.

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!”

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her.

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.”

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent.

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on.

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.”

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up.

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood.

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him.

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.”

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down.

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand.

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?”

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.”

“What?” Dean asked gruffly.

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?”

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.”

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?”

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently.

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket.

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress.

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks.

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you.

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat.

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously.

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?”

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink.

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker.

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand.

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall.

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say.

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?”

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion.

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.”

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.”

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink.

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam.

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically.

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer.

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean.

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away.

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table.

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.”

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth.

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you.

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter.

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar.

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly.

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away.

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you.

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head.

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded.

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?”

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car.

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you.

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats.

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?”

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?”

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff.

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.”

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!”

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.”

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets.

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance.

“What, why?” you asked in confusion.

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.”

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off.

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned.

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.”

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy.

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders.

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done.

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom.

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand.

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran.

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you.

He couldn’t save you.

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart.

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him.

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind.

“Dean.”

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came.

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above.

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut.

“God dammit, Dean!”

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer.

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt.

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.”

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice.

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him.

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out.

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current.

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.”

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order.

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone.

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name.

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere.

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order.

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink.

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him.

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake.

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang.

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.”

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?”

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle.

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?”

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.”

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice.

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not.

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself.

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration.

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.”

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation.

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.”

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?”

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!”

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly.

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed.

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief.

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?”

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!”

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.”

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?”

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!”

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?”

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.”

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!”

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?”

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?”

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff.

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-”

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?”

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!”

“Right,” Sam said sceptically. “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised.

“What?”

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared.

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively.

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.”

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.”

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued.

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.”

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on.

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin.

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction.

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen.

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully.

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge.

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen.

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway.

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly.

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child.

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do.

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything.

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.”

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!”

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him.

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion.

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife.

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?”

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?”

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes.

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily.

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call.

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more.

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered. So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do.

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.”

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late.

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.”

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?”

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.”

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.”

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation.

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.”

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner.

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water.

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water.

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself.

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding.

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant.

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.”

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him.

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.”

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered.

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.”

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you.

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly.

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.”

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again.

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.”

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest.

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him.

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.”

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?”

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.”

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.”

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door.

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out.

“It’s not gonna kill me!”

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?”

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.”

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign.

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.”

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!”

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.”

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.”

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.”

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You know what,” you scolded.

“This is so fucking ridiculous.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly.

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.”

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him.

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.”

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head.

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.”

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed.

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully.

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.”

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.”

“I do,” you agreed quietly.

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.”

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?”

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.”

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly.

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].”

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly.

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle.

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently.

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.”

“Right,” you agreed.

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly.

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.”

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously.

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.”

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off.

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.”

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say.

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.”

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest.

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.”

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while.

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.”

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build.

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.”

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.”

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question.

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat.

“Okay,” he said with a huff.

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly.

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you.

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened.

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked.

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.”

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more.

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair.

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.”

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly.

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?”

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.”

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?”

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” you said honestly.

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed.

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly.

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more.

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things.

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest.

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares.

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest.

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

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fatecantstopme · 9 months

Text

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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#supernatural #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader smut #dean winchester smut #supernatural fanfic #supernatural smut

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

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boo! surprise bitches! i'm doing kinktober this year! finally doing it! bet you didn't see that one coming, did you hehe 🕸

there is a good mix of both short and long stories coming your way throughout this (and i will also still occasionally post other fics this month that aren't related to this). also, a handful of these fics are darker in nature, thought it was fitting for halloween, so remember to read the warnings, if there's something that's not for you then please, as always, be kind to yourself and don't read the story.

masterlist | join my taglist

day one | sore

stepbro!sirius black x cheerleader!reader + dubcon massage

day two | don't smile

steve rogers + throat fucking + size kink

day three | stuffed

devil!eddie munson & angel!steve harrington + tentecles + double penetration in one hole

day four | a little fashion show

best friend!stiles stilinski + lingerie

day five | stay still

peter parker + bondage

day six | hold up, let me record this

jj maybank + tittyfucking + sextape

day seven | the palace guards

guards!poly!marauders x princess!reader + secrets relationship

day eight | it’s practically like we’re down there with them

mob boss!bucky barnes + exhibitionism

day nine | keep that pretty mouth shut

tommy shelby + keep quiet quickie

day ten | I couldn’t find it in me to wake you

poe dameron + somno thigh fucking

day eleven | I just want you a little longer all to myself

matt murdock + secret office sex

day twelve | nothing more than a toy

rafe cameron + using you like a toy to masturbate with

day thirteen | I still got a few rounds left in me

boxer!steve rogers + bathtub sex

day fourteen | open your fucking mouth

dark!wild west cowboy!joel miller + gun kink

day fifteen | tiny

miguel o'hara x fairy!reader + extreme size difference

day sixteen | the wall between us

cult member!steve harrington + fem glory hole + breeding

day seventeen | be a rebel, be bad, stay here and cuddle with me

spencer reid + aftercare

day eighteen | pleasant pile of pillows

brother's best friend!james potter + pillow humping

day nineteen | ring ring

sam winchester x reader x bf!dean winchester + phone sex + cheating

day twenty | window

perv!neighbour!billy russo + voyeurism

day twenty-one | say yes

fiancé!bruce wayne + possessiveness

day twenty-two | i can think of something better than that

bucky barnes + anal

day twenty-three | double check

dark!professor!ben solo + power imbalance + manipulation

day twenty-four | maroon

vampire!remus lupin + biting + blood kink

day twenty-five | i want you

pirate captain!miguel o'hara + sex as payment

day twenty-six | teamwork

pro football team!avengers (bf!steve rogers, bucky barnes, pietro maximoff, clint barton, sam wilson, tony stark, thor odinson) + gangbang

day twenty-seven | my little flower

din djarin + fantasy au + cockwarming

day twenty-eight | hysteria

doctor!aleksander morozova x hysteria patient!reader + historical au + fuck machine

day twenty-nine | can't fight the moonlight

werewolf!bucky barnes x gf!reader + predator/prey + monsterfucking

day thirty | magical mimic

eddie munson x witch!reader + magical mutual masturbation

day thirty-one | you can’t put it in

stepbro!peter parker + halloween pussyjob

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negansbackdoorwhore · 1 year

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Belong To Us

A/N: So I wrote this a while back but never posted it with the combination of JDM characters, Ray Lasalle and Ike Evans. Along with the fact this has bisexual men and it’s a threesome piece. But please enjoy this

Warnings: M/M/F threesome, bisexual men, smut, teasing, daddy kink

The daytime was full of busy bodies and responsibilities. The sun was bright in rhe sky and beaming down with the heat. Very dull and repetitive but at night was when the fun really happened. You awaited the touch of both your Daddies, Ray and Ike. The men whom formed a polyamorous relationship with you. At first the thought was strange but having those two all over you and each other made you enjoy it immensely. With them being busy throughout their days, you were left alone at either Ike’s or Ray’s. Tonight it was Ray’s penthouse.

You smiled at your phone and slipped on the leopard print robe Ray gifted you. Not to mention the emerald colored lingerie set that Ike picked out. You sat in the king sized bed as the sound of the door opening made your ears perk up.

“Y/N? You here Babygirl?” Ike was here first and you rushed out to hug him. Your arms went into his suit jacket and felt the warmth of his body. He was quick to plant a kiss on top of your head.

“Someone’s happy to see me.” Ike teased and brought you to kiss his lips.

“You look beautiful in this, I wonder what’s hiding underneath this.” His fingers teased the tied bow and you pulled away before he could undo it.

“Nope. Let’s be fair and wait for Ray. Remember how mad he was last we didn’t wait?”

Ike shook his head and went into the bathroom to undress. You followed behind him and brung the robe that matched your own. Ray decided to get a matching set for each person, cute. As Ike stripped away his clothes you heard the door again.

“Fuck, today was hetic. I really need my lovers to get me out of this funk.” You both giggle and Ike brought the robe over his shoulders. You see Ray tossed off his jacket on the kitchen counter.

“There’s lover number one. Now where is number two little lady?”

He commented as a hand put on your waist to pull you into his body. Ike was going to leave the bedroom but saw Ray leading you back in.

“Why am I number two mister? Am I just a piece of meat?”

“C’mon now, you know I love you both the same.” Ray kissed Ike and leaned to kiss you too. Your fingers began unbuttoning his white dress shirt and he smirked down at you. His hands stopped your own and you pouted.

“Ike, baby. I recall our girl was texting me about having us on her mind all day.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. Y/N, why don’t you show us how much you want us.”

“Go on, be our good girl.”

Ike winked and you knew exactly what to do. You undid your robe and allowed to fall to your feet. Their eyes were predatory as they focused on your body moving on the bed. The lingerie that was on your body went well enough to compliment your skin and how the lace lined your curves. It had Ray rushing his motions to get off his clothes. You display yourself by standing your weight on your knees. Ray approached the edge of the bed and you get closer by wrapping your arms on his neck. His lips were already on yours and he groaned with how Ike was reaching to caress his crotch. You gently moved his shirt off his shoulders and touched over his tattooed body.

“You need Daddy’s help with this?” Ike purred into Ray’s ear. His fingers undoing the confines of his pants and running his palm down his shaft.

“Fuck.” Ray mumbled against your lips and you started kissing his neck. He groaned as you were both pampering his body. You felt his hands on your hips and urging you to lay down. His body laid over you and your hands touched his skin. He gave a firm tug on your thighs so your legs wrapped onto his waist. As you both got distracted by one another Ike had his hands on Ray’s ass.

“I’m feeling a little neglected back here.”

“Should’ve acted faster.” Ike reached forward and tugged Ray’s hair causing him growl.

“You two play nice.”

You beckoned as you pull Ray back into a kiss. Ike took control by pulling down Ray’s pants and underwear in one pull. His fingers touching his bare bum and giving a nice smack. He let out a whimper and leaned up from growing impatient. You giggled as he was trying to get off your panties. They were tossed on the ground and you took it further by taking off the bra. Ray couldn’t help himself when him wanting a taste of your body. You moan as his lips were all over your chest. Your hips koved up to try and feel his cock. He moaned against your skin along with feeling Ike leaning down to kiss his back.

Ike’s hands rested on his hips and let his tongue run along the back of his neck.

“I think we should really get this started.” Ike said while leaning up and reached into the nightstand for some lubricant. Ray felt him nudge his legs apart while you were guiding Ray’s cock to your entrance. He groaned when feeling your sweet juices on his tip. Ray took back control by pinning your wrists above your head and thrusting into you.

“Fuck! I really needed this.” He bit his lip and felt Ike’s lubed cock teasing him ass. He whimpered at his touch while the grip of Ike’s fingers on his hip. You held on his torso and moaned as he stroked into you. The sight of him enjoying Ike’s attention was so hot. Ike finally pushed into Ray and suddenly he had to stop. Ray’s fingers squeezed your skin and the other hand gripped the comforter.

“Shit! Fuck!” Ray cursed and Ike leaned over while pulling his hair. Ike bit his earlobe and whispered into his whisper.

“Quit tensing up baby. It won’t feel as good, try and relax.”

Your hands held Ray’s face and caressed his beard. He let out a shaky breath and continued by slowly thrust into you.

“Good boy.” Ike praised while speeding up his hip movements. It encouraged Ray to go faster inside you, you felt your body arch up into his thrusts that made him go crazy.

“Ray! Just like that, it feels so good.”

You cry out and tighten the grip of your thighs on his waist. His eyes squeezed shut while Ike held a hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip to pull him back into his hips. Ike licked his lips watching you experience Ray and feeling him on his dick was making him grow closer to his release. Ray couldn’t help the way his movements grew sloppy along with Ike going harder inside him. You were already coming once Ray groaned out your name and how his cock was buried inside you. You quivered at the feeling of his cum was loading into you.

But Ike wasn’t done as he was still thrusting in Ray and he whimpered. You helped Ray by guiding him out of your pussy but he had an idea. You pushed further on the bed and Ray put your legs on his shoulders. You whined as he started to lick your opening. His moans vibrated against that made your thighs squeeze his head.

Ike moaned loudly as he got closer and gave Ray a few smacks on his ass. It made him pull away from you to wince and you sat up to pull him into sloppy kiss. Ray rested his head in the crook of your neck and held your body as he came around Ike.

“Fuck, baby!” Ike rasped out as he pulled out of Ray to release onto his lower back. The heavy sound of your breathing filled the room and you watched Ike step away to light a cigarette. Ray was still on top of you and nuzzling his head into your neck.

“I needed that shit. You both felt amazing.” Ray said with a smirk and stood from your body. You sat up and watched your men indulge in simple pleasure of a smoke and some liquor. While you slid underneath the covers of the bed and patiently waited for them to join. Ray went on one side to spoon you while Ike went on the other to pull you into his arms.

For a few minutes it was nice and cuddly until Ray was sucking on your skin. Ike pulled you to slowly makeout with him. Both of them groping at your body and you had you pull away from them.

“We just finished. Haven’t you had enough?”

“You know we can’t get enough.” They both reply and kept going, this was going to be a long night.

#jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jeffrey dean morgan #ike evans x reader #ike evans #magic city ike evans #leopard skin #ray lasalle #ray lasalle x reader #m/m/f

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certaimromance · 2 months

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࣪ ִֶָ☾. Cemetery Love.

Dean Winchester x Witch!reader

Summary: Ever since you accidentally discovered that Dean had made a deal and that his days were numbered, you've been trying to make every one of them unforgettable without telling him why. According to him, you're getting crazier and crazier, and according to Sam, you're in love.

Words: 2,9k.

TW: mentions of death, dealings with demons, witches (normal warnings in the series). spoilers for season 2 and 3. angst. fluff. the winchester brothers being chaos lol. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I love Dean and the Grumpy x Sunshine dynamic, so taking advantage of the sad plot of the deal and mixing it all up with confusion is one of my more chaotic ideas and I hope it turns out well haha.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

You closed the bedroom door behind you, careful not to make any noise that might wake the two brothers who were still sleeping peacefully in their beds. You left the groceries on the table and began to arrange everything to make it a perfect breakfast, the coffees you had bought, the muffin for Sam and the cake for Dean, the wild flowers you had made appear in the new vase you had created with your magic to give the table more vitality, and as a final touch you snapped your fingers and the curtains opened to let in the sunlight.

While you checked that everything was perfect, you stared at them for a few seconds, and the serenity with which they slept made you wonder if all the bad things that followed them were real. So many times you wanted to believe that your mind had played tricks on you, that the first time you saw Sam die was an illusion and that being alive after that was as normal as your magic. You didn't want to believe anything else had happened until you heard Dean talking to him when they thought you couldn't hear and you knew his days were numbered and he didn't want you to know.

That day, you wanted to scream at him that he was an idiot for selling his soul like that, and worse, for not telling you to find a spell to fix it. But the desperation in his voice as he repeated to his brother that you would look at him differently if you knew, and that it scared him more than anything else in the world, silenced you for weeks as you put your secret plan into action. You wanted each day to be better than the last for him as you searched every known coven for ways to avoid his death at all costs.

“Good morning, you lazy pair. It's time to wake up.” You spoke after several minutes of being lost in thought, watching them stir in their beds.

“Shut up, please.” Was all Dean said, pulling the blanket over his head to keep out the sun streaming through the window.

“Good morning to you too. Is that coffee and muffin I smell?” Sam sat up in his bed and looked gratefully at the table. “You're the best, thanks.” He added with a smile.

The best way to start a good day was with a good breakfast, you believed, and you knew the younger Winchester agreed, and that a little cheerfulness, sponsored by a little magic, couldn't hurt in the midst of monsters and supernatural cases. However, the other brother had been in a bad mood lately, and your positivity irritated him, especially when it came in the morning. Of course, he didn't know that the cheerfulness was fake, just an attempt to make him a little happy.

“Let's go! The day is beautiful today, the sun is shining and the birds are singing, all that deserves to be seen.” You said, giving Sam a smile to authorize him to throw a pillow to his brother. “It's so nice.”

You took a sip of your coffee and heard a groan from Dean as he received the pillow his brother had thrown at him. You let out a small mocking laugh.

“You know what's nice? Sleeping and not getting hit in the face by flying pillows.” He replied, finally sitting up grimly in bed, his eyes still closed.

“Be thankful, Winchester. I brought you a nice breakfast.” You said as you sat down in one of the chairs in the small dining room in front of Sam.

Finally, he opened his eyes and scanned you and then the table. He couldn't deny that his stomach rumbled and his mouth watered at the sight of the pie you'd bought. However, nothing took away the feeling of irritability and the headache from not getting the thousand hours of sleep he needed to be well.

“How can you be so happy and look so good in the morning?” He asked after looking at you from head to toe and snorting because you were all dressed up and glowing while he was still in his pajamas.

You raised your shoulders and heard Sam teasing his brother. At that moment, your cell phone vibrated and a message from Bobby asking you to call him caught your attention. You tried not to make the slightest grimace so the brothers wouldn't notice and worry.

“You two take a shower and get something to eat. I'll take a walk and wait for you to join me later.” You got up from your chair and walked briskly to the door.

“What the hell is wrong with her?” Dean asked as soon as the door closed behind you and the creaking sound it made echoed in his head.

“Wrong? She bought us breakfast and she's happy, I don't see anything wrong.” Sam replied, frowning at his brother's attitude. “You're just in a bad mood.”

“I'm not.” Dean replied with a snort, getting out of bed and sitting down in the seat you had used earlier. “She's being weird.”

Until the last few weeks, your behavior had been very different, and the eldest Winchester had noticed it the most. In the past, you barely laughed at his bad jokes or cast spells that weren't meant to save a life on a hunt. Now you smiled so much he was surprised your face didn't hurt, and your spells of pure joy seemed endless. It was as if you had been injected with positivity and vitality.

“She's just happy, it's nice that one of us is.”

At his brother's comment, Dean snorted and began to eat his pie uncomfortably. It wasn't that it bothered him that you were happy, because that was the only thing he could wish for you, it was more a resentment that he couldn't be the same way.

“I think she's in love.” Sam said and took a sip of his coffee.

Automatically, Dean's disinterest in the conversation ended and all his senses kicked in.

“Why? By whom? Since when?”

“Suddenly she is happier, she doesn't stop texting and doesn't let go of her phone, she suddenly disappears and never says where she went, she is much more concerned about her appearance, I have seen her get up earlier to put on makeup and she has asked me a thousand times if she looks good, she rejects every boy who approaches her and she buys us rich food just for the sake of it. The other day I even heard her humming a love song. She is definitely dating someone.”

His brother's full explanation made Dean frown even more and his stomach churn, even the urge to eat was taken away. He didn't like that none of it made any sense, no matter how much it did.

“Or she just went crazy.” He said, putting aside the pie he had been devouring.

“Are you jealous?” Sam asked with some mockery in his tone.

“No. Shut up.”

“Come on, are you still in love with her?” The hunter asked with narrowed eyes, trying to decipher his brother's feelings, even if he only got bad looks from him. “Don't make faces, you told me so.”

And it was true, because months earlier, Dean had gotten drunk in a dive bar after you had almost been seriously injured on a hunt and decided to turn in early. Your absence, combined with the unlimited drinks that a fake card got him, made him finally spill his guts, even his darkest thoughts, to his brother. Most importantly, he confessed that he had been in love with you for years.

“Forget about that night, I was drunk.”

“Everyone says drunks tell the truth and I remember everything you said that night.” Sam remarked, taking a minute to mentally go back to that moment. “Oh Sammy help, I think she cast a love spell on me because I can't get her out of my mind. I don't know what to do anymore.” He put on a high-pitched voice to imitate him and remind him exactly of his words.

“I never said that.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at his denial.

“Well, maybe I did say some things.” He finally admitted with some embarrassment. “But it was stupid.”

“Having feelings for someone isn't stupid, Dean. It's normal, and it was bound to happen to you sooner or later.”

He sighed and could feel the tension in his body rise. “Stop.”

“You can talk to me and...” Sam insisted again, trying to give him some understanding and reassurance, unaware that he was doing just the opposite.

It was definitely too much and made the eldest Winchester feel like a foolish, lovesick teenager chasing an unrequited love thanks to his brother's words. The whole situation infuriated him to no end, it seemed stupid and out of place when he was literally closer to death every day.

“I'm. Not. In. Love. With. Her.” He said slowly, punctuating his voice with every word. He had already lost his patience and only wished that Sam would leave him alone. “How could I fall in love with someone like that? Lately she's been so irritating and stressful. I don't need her songs, or her perfect smile, or her to buy us that damn dream breakfast. We're hunters, and we don't need a witch.”

As soon as he finished speaking and looked at his brother, he heard the door to the room slam shut, throwing an excessive amount of wind at them, almost knocking him out of his seat. It was then that he knew he was completely screwed.

“That was...?” He tried to ask with his voice somewhat shaky.

Dean didn't really need an answer, he knew you had heard him.

“You're an asshole.” That was all Sam said before he got up and walked to the door with the intention of talking to you.

“I'll go.” He said, grabbing his brother's arm and stopping him before he could leave. “I messed up...now pray I don't turn into a frog.”

“It's what you deserve.” Was the last thing Dean heard from his younger brother before he left the room and went to find you.

The sunlight and the sound of birds singing was the first thing he noticed when he left the room, it almost made him smile knowing that you had been right. It didn't take him long to guess that you were in the woods behind the motel, it was the kind of place you always said you found relaxing and probably where you would go when you wanted to get away. He walked quickly and after a few minutes he found you sitting on a rock, staring blankly.

“Get out of here, Winchester.” You said as soon as you felt his presence and heard the distinctive sound of his footsteps, without even turning to look at him. “Or I'll turn you into a rabbit.”

Dean almost smiled, he knew you liked rabbits.

“You have to listen to me, I'm sorry. I didn't mean...that. I didn't mean what I said.” He tried to explain in a confused way, unable to fully express himself. “It was a mistake.”

“What was a mistake, what you said or that I heard you say it?” You replied with irony in your tone, still not turning to look at him because you knew it would hurt.

“It was all a mistake, I shouldn't have said any of that because I don't believe it.” He replied, taking a few slow steps towards you to touch your shoulder. “Maybe I think you're acting weird, but I...”

“You what, Winchester?” You turned and walked away from his touch swiftly. There was something burning inside you from what you had heard and it was releasing everything you had been holding back. “You're going to tell me you don't need a witch because you're a hunter? Well, let me tell you yes because I'm the only one doing anything to save you from the damn deal you made!”

Finally, you stood up from the rock and looked him straight in the eye. You could see him turn pale and frozen at your words.

“How...how do you know?”

“I heard you talking to Sam.”

Once again, a conversation you weren't supposed to overhear had ruined everything for him.

“What have you done?” His tone was serious, there was not a hint of playfulness left, only concern.

Your lips were fully sealed for several seconds before you spoke. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

All the events of the last while began to flash through Dean's mind with speed and began to make a different kind of sense. Every argument his younger brother had given him about you being in love with someone and doing everything for that person made sense, only that someone was him.

“Tell me what you've done.” He repeated coming dangerously close to you. “I'm serious. I know you did something.”

It was so obvious that you couldn't stand by and do nothing to save him. So why didn't he ask for your help in the first place?

“That's why you bought me so much pie, you know I'm going to die. And the calls you make so much...what did you do?” He began to recapitulate all your strange attitudes in his mind and it bothered him that he hadn't noticed it before. “Tell me you haven't done anything stupid, please.”

“Doing so much for you when you don't appreciate it or care is the only stupid thing I've ever done in my life.” You tried to walk past him and leave, but he stopped you.

“You're going to tell me what you did and you're going to forget it.” He said firmly, never letting go of you for fear that you would leave. It was stupid, because he knew you could leave with a single spell if you wanted to. “Speak.”

You looked into his eyes for a few seconds and knew he meant it. He seemed more concerned about your actions than his own situation, and that confused you. You had heard him say how annoying you were and that he didn't need you, but your heart still pounded at his touch. You knew that if you confessed to him that you had been looking for ways to save him for months without caring about the consequences, you would look desperate and vulnerable, you didn't like it, but it was the truth.

“You don't want to talk? Fine, I accept that, but then you're going to stop whatever it is you're doing.” He said after waiting several minutes for you to speak and getting no response.

“But...”

“No buts, I'm serious. I don't want you to do anything, I didn't even want you to know about this before.” Dean sighed tiredly, as if he didn't know what to do. “And again, I'm so sorry for what you heard, it's not the truth and I only said it because Sam was bothering me. I do need you and know it, but not in this.”

“Why? It's my decision.”

“Listen to me for once in your life.” He moved closer until you could almost feel his breath and put a hand on your cheek. “I can lose myself, but I can't lose you, and you have to understand that or I'll go crazy.”

You froze in place, not knowing what to do or say.

“Please forget about it and go back to being yourself.” He finished.

“How am I supposed to do that? What am I supposed to do without you?” You asked, feeling your voice crack as you spoke. “I don't want to say goodbye.”

Dean didn't say anything, he just hugged you tightly, hoping that for once in your life you wouldn't fight. To his surprise, you clung to him and your fear of him disappearing became apparent. You lost count of how many times you heard him whispering to you to let it go, to focus on the present, and that he was with you now, kissing your forehead and repeating that everything was okay.

“Will you turn me into a rabbit if I kiss you now? Be honest.” He asked as soon as he was able to pull away from you a little to look into your eyes.

“Honestly? No. Would I like to? Yes.”

One of his hands rested on your waist and the other tangled in your hair, pulling you closer to him and finally shortening the small distance that separated you. You saw him smile for a few seconds before he placed his lips on yours, letting you know that you had indeed lost your mind. His movements were soft and slow, something you had never imagined from him before, and it surprised you for the better. He seemed to be making an effort to be gentle and that, combined with the sweet taste the pie had left on his lips, had you hypnotized.

Time flew, and almost as if under a spell, you broke the kiss only when your human need for oxygen appeared. You could only guess that it had been a while because his lips were red and he seemed as agitated as you were. All you knew was that you had waited a long time for this and that the possibility of losing him was a thousand times more terrifying now.

“Part of me has been grateful all along to know that I will die before you.” He spoke, and you looked at him as if he were completely insane, because he probably was. “Really, don't look at me like that.”

“Sure, you always want to win and go first.” You rolled your eyes, tried to fake a laugh, and hugged him tighter.

“No, I just can't imagine life without you, my sweet witch.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #sam winchester

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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 7 months

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The Most Innocent Sinner

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: For everyone, she's the shy, pure, little Y/n. Dating Dean Winchester is like going on dates with the complete opposite of her. So it is a very nice surprise when Dean learns how kinky she actually is by finding her collection of sex toys.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Content warning: Sex toys, masturbation (male and female), dirty talk

Square filled: Dildos for @spnkinkevents / “Now that’s something you definitely shouldn’t try at home.” for @jacklesversebingo / masturbation for @anyfandomkinkbingo / “Unfortunately, I’m turned on by that.” for @anyfandomgoesbingo

A/n: Finding a title is so hard. I got stuck on this one for way too long. Big thanks to my friends that helped me!

From the outside, Y/n looked like a Saint. Cute, she wasn't very tall and almost sickly shy, and her social anxiety didn't help her case at all.

Since she didn’t have many friends, Y/n spent her time at the library surrounded by stories that made her forget how alone she felt. The characters on these yellowed sheets would never judge or criticize her, it was a comfort in which she really liked to immerse herself, especially after a hard day.

It was also where she met the Winchester brothers for the first time.

For someone like Y/n, the complete opposite of popular, invisible to people even when she was in the same room with them, the Winchesters were the pinnacle of perfection. Bodies built like gods, well-defined faces, piercing eyes, they gave off a strong and dominating aura that attracted the gaze of everyone in their path. And Y/n was no exception.

The moment the two brothers walked near her table at the library, there was no longer any need to read. Her book closed by itself in front of her, as she no longer held it open, her eyes fixedly stuck on the two men. Following their directions with her gaze, she turned her head, almost hurting her neck.

The colors around her suddenly seemed more vivid. The sounds, sweeter to the ear. She strained her ear to better listen to their conversations. And it was then that the stories she loved reading so much... Became reality.

Y/n had always had a habit of making herself fade away. Not wanting to attract attention, remaining discreet and making herself as small as possible. But the moment she saw them, it was like a light bulb went on inside her, and filled her with a life she had never really felt. And she decided to change that.

She didn’t want to hide anymore.

It was an adventure awaiting her, just like in her books. Filled with villains, monsters, but also angels, laughter, food and finally, a place where she belonged. It didn't take long for her to take part in their lives, quickly becoming a full member of their families. Although she wasn’t trained to be in the field hunting monsters, her lifelong experience of extensive reading was too vital and important to refuse her help.

Initially, Y/n was assigned to research. It was perfect for her, she could show them how efficient she was at this task so they would give her more to do eventually. Quickly, she climbed the ranks in the Winchesters' trust and became closer to them.

Everything about her personality was perfect to fit with Sam's. And yet, as the months stretched into years, she inevitably grew closer to Dean. Some will say that opposites flock together, and they are not wrong. Dean was the opposite of Y/n, stubborn, he didn't hesitate to say what was on his mind and loved seeing the adorable expression that invaded her face when he made inappropriate or worse, sexual comments. Immediately, Y/n would disappear from the room almost like magic, or she would become so embarrassed that he took pity and immediately changed the subject.

Y/n had a purity that Dean never had, and it was one of the reasons why even after all this time knowing her, he was still reluctant to let her come with them on hunts. Or even to involve her in anything that could endanger her or defile this purity. If he could keep her from losing that sparkle in her eyes, he would, no matter the cost.

After a few months of dating, Y/n finally agreed to live in the bunker with them. Dean helped her move in, putting her things in a room other than his, and although not sharing the same bed disappointed him a little, he understood why. She wasn't ready, and he insisted on her comfort. He was willing to wait for her as long as it took.

“If I had known you had that many boxes, I would have brought in extra hands,” Dean huffed, placing yet another heavy box on the ground. Straightening up, he raised his arms above his head to stretch his back.

“Sorry, all my books,” Y/n shrugged and lowered her head, embarrassed.

With a quick wave of his hand, Dean signaled that it was nothing. “It only takes a little longer but it’s no problem,” he quickly said to reassure her, so she wouldn’t feel bad about having so much stuff. After all this time knowing her, he knew how important her books were to her.

Her 500 books which weighed bricks to transport…

“I'll go get another box,” she accepted Dean's answer and as she passed him on her way out, left a quick kiss on the cheek. It was Dean's turn to react, his face quickly turning red.

“Okay, in the meantime, I'm going to start…” Glancing at the mountain of cardboard, Dean sighed again. “Cleaning a little…”

Sam wasn't there. Although he proposed his help for moving her stuff in, Dean's ego was more powerful. As a boyfriend, he had to take care of his girlfriend himself. Without help. Showing her that he was there for her, and that she would always be his priority.

Dean had been in several relationships in the past. And he loved each woman with all of his soul. But each time, his work, his family or the apocalypse had forced him to leave. It had been a very difficult task each time, but he had done it.

Just the thought of leaving Y/n had the same effect as losing a limb. It was unthinkable.

Ah shit. He was in love.

Him, in love?

It was the first time.

… Wait a minute.

He was in love with her.

This realization hit him harder than he expected. Dean took a few steps back, his head spinning quickly. He was in love. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Never in his entire life had he felt this kind of thing for someone, feelings so strong, so true. When they were together, he felt so good, like he had finally found the thing he was missing. The person he needed.

Dean took another step back, and inevitably, his legs encountered a box. He lost his balance and, trying not to cause a landslide, had to hold himself against the nearest thing… Another box.

This one was strangely and unfortunately lighter than the others and failed to stop him from doing damage. Luckily, Dean kept his balance and avoided the embarrassment of falling on his butt, but the box fell to the ground.

“Son of a bitch,” he grumbled as he hurried to pick it up. As he took it, he noticed that it was not closed properly. It was definitely not his plan to go through Y/n's personal belongings, but when he opened the box to close it better, he couldn't help but see what was inside.

And it wasn't his fault. The first item on top was a box that displayed the inscription of its contents, and his curiosity, well… took care of the rest.

“What the…” taking the item in question, Dean examined it. His hunter's eye detected every detail, inscriptions, the wear on the cardboard and even the place where the packaging had once been sealed before opening. The sticky paper seemed to have been removed so quickly, the color of the cardboard remained stuck on it. It was exactly as if its owner, eager to have the object, hadn’t been concerned by the breakage of its packaging.

SO. It was still possible that the contents were not what was written in black and white on the packaging. It was still a possibility. Dean understood, it was his duty to get to the bottom of it once and for all. Otherwise, the question would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Heart racing for no good reason, Dean placed his fingers where the paper was torn off and pulled the tab. Then, breathless, he opened the box and peered inside.

“Son of a bitch,” his mouth breathed along with the last of his oxygen. No... he couldn't believe it. As if he needed further proof that his eyes had already given him, Dean reached into the box and pulled out the object.

It was still in its bag, but an opening proved its frequent use. Both soft and very hard, it was of regular size and of a pretty pink shade. Dean didn't need to take it out of the bag to know that underneath was the little hole to get charged, the wire still in the box.

In his hand, Dean held the thing he never thought he would hold… Let alone find among his girlfriend's stuff. The sweet, pure, shy Y/n.

Scared that she would come back and see him like this, Dean quickly put the pink dildo vibrator back in its box. A thousand questions swirled through his mind and his heart still hadn't stopped pounding in his ribcage. In his eagerness and nervousness, Dean almost dropped the box, so he had to pull himself together to put it back exactly where he had found it.

And that was when he saw them.

There were plenty of them. A dozen even. Some had their original packaging, others had boxes without inscription. Curiosity rose in Dean who forgot the presence of his girlfriend and owner of these toys in the bunker. It was like suddenly he was alone in the world as he began to pull out everything he had in front of his eyes, his pupils dilating with each new discovery.

Small portable vibrator. One that looked like a butterfly, insertable and vibrant. A… dolphin? A flesh-colored dildo, including ball and base with suction. A magic staff. Purple, pink, black, the colors were added one after the other. And then suddenly...

Dean came across the largest box.

It was curiously and surprisingly big for what was inside. Dean couldn't help it. It was heavy, there was no doubt about the contents, but he had to see it with his eyes, hold it in his hands, and absorb reality.

It couldn't be that big... right?

And oh my god.

“Now that’s something you definitely shouldn’t try at home…”

Examining it from every angle, he still couldn't understand. The words “bad dragon” were forever imprinted in his brain along with the image of that purple and blue hued dildo. It was imposing, as tall as it was wide, and the different textures were strange but pleasant to the touch. And inevitably, his brain went in that perverse direction he imagined...

Her moans filled the room and the echo was carried throughout the whole bunker. Sounds of pleasure? No. Of frustration. She moaned as she tried as best she could to get the dildo into her entrance, which was still too tight for such a monster. But her determination only grew with her goal, and the idea alone of being able to have all those inches inside her was so exciting that she almost didn't need any lube.

“Oh fuck,” breathed through her lips as the head of the toy finally pierced the breach. Her head tilting back, she wiggled on the dildo to widen her entrance to accommodate the rest. Kneeling over the toy made it easier for her to maneuver her body and part her lips for guidance. And when finally the dildo was inside her, a long sigh of relief mixed with the pleasure of having succeeded hissed between her lips.

“I love the view…”

Dean hadn't missed a single thing. Standing in the doorway, he watched, admired, and nourished himself with the magnificent view before him. Kneeling on the bed facing him, she knew he was there. Even though her eyes were closed, she felt his presence, heard his heavy breathing. And then there was the rustling of his clothes every time he adjusted his position or reached for his swollen crotch.

It was one of the hottest things she had ever experienced. The desire was so strong it was palpable. The smell of sex filled the room. A moan passed her lips as she opened her eyes to look at him, her breath leaving her lungs, making the air almost unbreathable because it was so saturated.

"Oh. No."

The sound of a heavy object hitting the ground brought him back to consciousness. Then it took him several seconds to realize the voice that had spoken just before the impact, what it had said and who it belonged to. Turning towards the door, Dean's eyes were wide open, the green almost disappearing from his irises because his pupils were so dilated.

Her face was not in any better condition. As her eyes, wide with fear and shame, moved between what he was holding and the box behind him and finally settling on him, Dean could see the embarrassment quickly filling her being.

“What is this?”

Still shocked by his discovery and what it implied, these words were the first and only ones that had managed to escape his lips. Obviously, he knew what it was, and what it was for. However, he needed to hear it from her mouth. To confirm what his eyes had already understood.

His question only made her more uncomfortable.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” she muttered under her breath, lowering her head and crossing the distance between them to grab the dildo and remove it from the hunter’s hands. All this to hide the evidence that had already been consumed, unfortunately. “Please, forget about it,” she pleaded, still refusing to meet his gaze. Her hand resting next to Dean's on the dildo, she tried to take it back, but was surprised to see that he didn't want to let it go. “Dean?”

“It’s impossible,” his voice was low, almost a breath lost in the tension of the air. “Unfortunately… I’m turned on by that. And here I thought you were all pure and shy…” Taking a pause in his words only made the state Y/n was in worse. Next to Dean, she felt his breath against her cheek, and the heat of his body. It was heavy, his chest moving in time with his harsh breathing. As if he had to do everything to hold back. “I waited for you to be ready, and I'll still wait but… Y/n…” As she still refused to raise her head and meet his gaze, Dean took his other hand, the one that wasn't holding the dildo, to gently lift Y/n’s chin. “Thinking about you touching yourself with that… oh fuck, it’s hot, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” A shy smile appeared on her lips, her eyes watering at how she was embarrassed but still... Very excited by this idea.

“Oh yeah,” Dean swallowed, his green eyes darting from Y/n's lips to her eyes, then back to her lips. Like two magnets held too far apart, but at the same time too close, it was inevitable.

Dean pressed his mouth to Y/n’s, kissing her forcefully. The dildo was quickly put aside, both needing their hands to touch the other. Dean placed his on Y/n's waist, and her around his neck. Her nails scratched the soft part of his neck, leaving red marks he would never see. It was intense, they almost devoured each other with an insatiable appetite. Opening her lips, Y/n stuck her tongue out barely, just enough to give access to Dean who was quick to push his tongue into her mouth. The kiss became languorous, messy, even, and Y/n backed into a box and almost fell. Dean broke the kiss to ask if she was okay, but she silenced him by replacing her lips on his to continue the kiss.

Their mouths didn't leave each other as clothes flew around the room, some getting stuck on boxes while others fell to the floor. Eventually, they managed to maneuver through the mountains of boxes to get to the bed. Y/n plopped down on the mattress and laughed against Dean’s mouth which only took a second to find its way back to hers. Now both were shirtless and their hands explored each other without stopping.

Finally, Y/n broke the kiss to speak.

“I want you to watch me.”

“What?” Dean was panting, his erection so painful in his pants he was afraid it would explode at the slightest touch. Like a hungry lion demanding its prey, he tried to grab Y/n's lips but she refused him access by placing her fingers between them.

“I want you to watch me use the toy…” If she was an angel a few moments ago, the Y/n he had, lying under him on the bed, half naked, was a little devil hidden under the appearance of a Saint.

Just the thought of seeing her in real life masturbating with the monster he had found made Dean gulp and push himself up so he was on his knees. His face was so red, he had trouble understanding how there could still be blood in his length.

“Are you sure? I mean, I… I can’t say no to that, fuck, but… I don’t want you to feel forced or…”

“Dean,” she interrupted, a smile tugging at her lips. “I really want to. And I know you want it too.” Y/n took a deep, slightly shaky breath before continuing. “So… Bring me the one you want me to use… And get comfortable.”

Dean swallowed and looked at his girlfriend's face. Since he had known her, they had never been this far in their intimacy. And he would never have imagined that she had this in her. Obviously he was surprised, but it was a very pleasant surprise. Like an excited child on Christmas morning, Dean rushed to the box of adult toys and once again admired all the choices presented to him. Each of them infused an image, each more erotic than the other, into his mind. For a moment, he hesitated to take the monster he had found shortly before, but decided that for now, this view was better in his mind. And he didn't want to embarrass Y/n even more than she was, what she was proposing was very intimate, very sexy, but also terribly hard to do. To open up like this, to show yourself like this...

Dean returned to his girlfriend, a box in hand. “This one,” he held out the box, knowing full well what it contained. Y/n took it, hesitated for a few seconds while staring at it in her hands. Just as Dean was about to repeat that she didn't have to, that they could continue to just makeout and that was okay, she opened the box and took out the toy.

It was a simple one. No vibration, just a flesh colored dildo with suction at the bottom. It wasn’t the biggest she owned, but it was still big, almost as big as Dean’s cock. So to see her use this, he could easily picture him in her…

Just the thought sent another wave of arousal down his pants.

“Do you need a moment, or lube or…” Dean was still standing up near the bed as she was on her knees on the mattress. For the first time, he was clueless and didn't know what to do. And yet, it was not his first time, nor the last, that he had more kinky moments with his partner. But Y/n was different, she wasn't just his sexual partner, but the woman he loved. And the prospect of getting even closer and more intimate was worth more than any sex he could have.

“I want you to watch the whole thing,” Y/n replied, lifting her ass off the mattress just enough to undo her pants and pull them down along with her panties with just one hand. In an almost expert manner, she finished undressing herself with one hand, her other never letting go of the toy. “You can sit down, you know,” she laughed when she saw Dean still standing where he was, stiff as a stick.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” he sat on the edge of the bed and turned his body towards her. It was like he was back at 15 with the most popular girl in school, ready for his first time. Nervousness filled his entire being, along with excitement, and if he wasn't so experienced years later, his erection would have disappeared or he would have come prematurely in his pants.

Dean silently thanked all the girls he had in the past that strengthened his stamina.

“How do you want me to use it?”

Dean could see how nervous she was. It was the first time she was completely naked in front of him, and her body was shaking ever so slightly, shivers that covered her soft skin in goosebumps. But yet, through that nervousness, she was freaking sexy. Still kneeling, she was slowly stroking her intimacy with the toy, coating it with her wetness. And without asking, Dean knew she wouldn’t need any lube.

“Just… Like this, you can ride it…” The words got out of his mouth by automatism. Truth was, Dean was half there now, so excited and focused on her, a part of his mind was shut down. It was so hot, he couldn’t detach his eyes from her body, the way the toy rubbed through her lower lips, how her hips rocked back on it, and her face, so soft, so cute, so embarrassed… With eyes burning in a strong passion.

“Okay,” she whispered. Time seemed to slow down. Dean could feel his heart beating in his head and in his crotch, the intensity growing with each movement she made. Straightening up, she placed the dildo behind her, careful to align it with her entrance, and opened up her legs to let Dean continue watching.

And he could see it all.

It was better than everything he could ever imagine.

The toy was big, but she was probably very wet and very used to it, because it didn’t take long for her to lower down on it. Inch by inch, the dildo disappeared into her entrance until it was almost completely gone. Her body was bent back, her chest glistening with sweat and the cutest moan left her lips.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned. It was too much, so he rushed to open his pants, just enough to free his aching cock. The simple touch sent thousands of electrical shocks of pleasure through his body, but still, his eyes were fixed on her. “You’re so hot, I don’t think I’ll last long,” he held the base of his cock stronger to avoid his climax.

“I don’t think I’ll last long either,” she whimpered. She had started moving already, slowly, up and down on the toy. Since she was on the bed, the succion was useless and she had to hold it with one hand. Dean could see how wet she was on the dildo, and imagined how warm it had to be inside.

Another groan whistled through his teeth.

“Hmmm,” she moaned, picking up speed. “It feels so good… Dean… Look at me…”

He didn’t notice, but his gaze was so focused on the toy and her pussy, he didn’t even look at her face. Blinking hard, he looked up, and when he saw her face, twisted in pleasure, he couldn’t help it.

His hand started moving on his cock at the same rhythm as her.

“Can’t wait to be inside of you,” Dean muttered through his rashing breath. “Must feel so warm in there, and you’re so wet, fuck, sweetheart, you’re killing me.”

As an answer, she moaned and closed her eyes for a second. But quickly, she set her gaze on him again, even if it had to be the most embarrassing thing she ever did. She wanted to watch him watch her, watch him stroke his cock, watch him cum with her. “Soon… I promise, soon, you’ll have me, you’ll fuck me as much as you want, whenever you want… I'm ah... All yours, Dean..."

"Y/n." Dean could only say that. Again and again, moaning her name as she continued moving on the toy. "Y/n..."

"Dean, I’m gonna cum, oh my god, I’m…”

It was stronger than her. Never before did she come with only a dildo in her, it always took her hands or a vibrator on her clit to reach the end. But right now, in front of her boyfriend masturbating with her, it was too much. It felt so good.

In an explosion of pleasure, her orgasm ripped through her in a scream. She closed her eyes, her body shaking, her wetness flooding under her and on her bed. But she so didn’t care about this right now.

It took a few moments for her to regain her hearing back, and a few more moments to open her eyes. It was strong, and she suddenly felt so tired, like the world came crashing back on her. Feeling like she could sleep for a whole day without waking up.

Y/n landed her eyes on the man in front of her. Dean had his head bent back, eyes closed, mouth parted. Lower, his cock was still a bit hard, and his release was covering his hand.

“Oh,” she said sadly, realizing she didn’t see him cum. At least, they came together.

“Oh,” Dean repeated, finally opening his eyes to land them on her. “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen and done,” he admitted, a silly smile filling up his face. So he was too, drunk on pleasure.

“Yeah,” she admitted, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. Wow. They did it. They actually did it. Her joy, thought, left her face quickly as she realized something. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” Dean immediately went on protective boyfriend mode when he heard the change in her voice.

“I think I…” Y/n’s voice was small, so small and shy as she lifted herself from the spot she was in, removing carefully the dildo from her, and looked at the mess she made. “It never happened before, but now my bed… I don’t think I can use it anymore… Oh no…”

“Sweetheart,” Dean rushed to her side, quickly putting himself back in his pants even if he was messy with his release as well. “It’s alright. There’s plenty of other room in the bunker, with other beds.”

“But,” she stammered, her gaze looking down at her hands. “What if I want to… Use your bed, with you?”

Y/n ended up looking up at him, their gaze meeting.

A soft kiss on her lips answered her question, and all of her insecurities washed away.

“My bed is yours, sweetheart. We can always use this room for your books, I’ll ask Sam to help building shelves and-”

Another kiss, this time, more powerful, interrupted his sentence. “God, I love you so much.”

Babum.

The words he never said back before.

Dean thought they would be hard to say. Impossible, even. But he surprised himself with how easy it actually was.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa @wickedinspirations@fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

Supernatural Tag List: @peachyaliien @sexyvixen7 @stixnstripesworld @charred-angelwings @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @lyarr24 @fiftyshadesgrl @this-is-me19

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278 @kazsrm67 @wtrpxrks @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies @charred-angelwings @jensendreamland @deanswaywardgirl @happyt0exist @waynes-multiverse @djs8891 @mimaria420 @this-is-me1 @syrma-sensei

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