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miserable-sarah · 1 year

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What? 18+

Pairings: Sam x Reader Requested: just absolutely pounding the shit out of the reader, and then just the daddy shock as he learns she's pregnant, and the stages through the pregnancy, Sam from Supernatural. Warning: 18+ NSFW, unprotected sex, rough sex, pregnancy, sweet sam, rough sam. MDNI * Story goes straight into smut *

"Sam!" You scream out in pleasure, Sam has you spread out on the bed. He's hovering over you while his fingers pump inside you fast. Your whole body is twitching, he's been at this for what feels like hours. He's been fingering you, eating you out, biting at you, choking you, anything he could do to make you feel good except fuck you.

"Please" You whine. He ignores you and curves his fingers hitting your g-spot. You groan with frustration.

"No, no. Only good girls get what they want." He coos in your ear, kissing you softly on the cheek.

"P-please, I've been good" Sam pulls his fingers out of you. You whimper as he does. Sam helps you sit up, he pulls you on his lap. He helps you sit up because he knows if he lets go you'd fall. Sam looks up at you hungrily, his eyes are completely dark. He kisses and sucks on your neck, you try to hold back all your moans and whimpers but it's no use, he has you falling apart.

Sam holds your hands behind your back with one of his large hands. You can feel is other hand taking off his pants, your insides flutter with excitement, you throw your head back just thinking of how he feels.

"Up baby" he says in a low whisper. You do as he says and lift your hips, he teases his cock on your clit then around your entrance. It feels like he's been doing this for minutes.

"Please." You say basically in tears.

"Shh, baby" He coos. He grunts as he slowly enters his tip, you sigh in relief. He lets go of your hands and moves his around your waist helping you move down onto him deeper. He throws his head backk with his mouth open, as soon as you sit all the way down, he looks at where you two connect and he sucks in air through his teeth.

The way he looks right now could get you off, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed, little beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and his breathing picking up. Sam gives you a couple of seconds before guiding you up and down. You're still shaking from earlier and he can feel that.

"Mmm, you feel so good." He says looking at you, is lips curling into a smile. You lean down and kiss him, your tongues dance around. He leaves a sloppy kiss on the corner of your mouth before kissing on your neck again. You throw your head back and let little moans escape your lips. Sams thrusts pick up in pace, you know he's going to go hard today. You're trying to prepare yourself but you never could. Sam wraps his arms around your waist holding you against his chest, before you could even think he starts pounding into you. You close your eyes tight and clench your body. You're over taken with bliss, your head is fuzzy, all you can think about is how good he feels.

"Breathe" He says slowing down, you take a deep breath and look at him. He chuckles at you, he was fucking you so good you forgot to breathe. Sam stands up not letting you go, he places you on the bed softly. "Are you ready? I'm not taking it easy on you."

You bite your lip as butterflies explode in your stomach. You nod your head yes. "i'm ready." Sam lifts your legs placing them on his shoulders. He positions himself and slams right into you. You whine in pain but it quickly turns into pleasure. Your moans and his groans fill the room along with all the sex sounds. Sam leans down placing his hands on either side of your head, his hair is falling in his face, and sweat is dripping down his face.

"Fuck" Sam grunts his pace picking up, you swear you can feel him in your stomach. You're in too much pleasure to form any words. Your head is fuzzy, again. You know you're moaning loud because it's all you can hear but you can't stop.

"Sam, Sam" You start but can't even finish your sentence. "Fuck, I-"

"Go ahead, baby" Sam says to you, you keep your eyes on him as you cum, you can feel your body shaking with pleasure, your eye sight goes blurry, your whole body heats up, you swear you can see stars. "Good girl" Sam praises. He continues pounding into you with ease.

"Feel so good" you whimper, your body is still shaking it won't stop. Sam brings his hand down to your clit, he rubs it and you scream. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." You squeeze your eyes tight, your body shaking worse than before, you feel a gush and you lay on the bed unable to think.

"Very good girl!" Sam says happily. He still doesn't slow down. At this point you are in too much pleasure, you don't know if it hurts or feels too good. Your brain isn't working. You let out a few whimpers and whines you can't stop them from spilling.

Sam leans down and kisses you, he rests his forehead against yours. He must be close because his breathing is hitched and his pace is uneven. "I love how you fall apart for me, how you look when I'm making you feel good, how you feel around me, I love you." He kisses you again quickly. "I'm gonna cum in you okay? Fill my girl up." He says in between breaths. You just nod your head. "Good girl" He praises you again.

Sam soon fills you up, you moan at the warm substance filling your insides. He lets out a loud moan followed by small grunts as he rocks his hips back and forth slowly. Sam stays in you for a few seconds not able to move.

Sam pulls out and lays next to you. He wraps his arms around you bringing you closer to him. You sigh with content and curl up with him, he always makes you feel so safe and warm. After a few minutes of laying there you feel Sam getting up, you must've dozed off. He came back into the room with clean clothes and a cloth to clean you up.

"Thank you, Sammy" You smile at him, he smiles back at you. After getting cleaned up and dressed, Sam lays back down with you and puts on a movie. He knew you weren't going to stay up and he was right as soon as the movie started you fell right to sleep.

~ Couple months later "Hey y/n, I'm home" Sam whispers to you careful not to scare you.

"Baby!" You immediately wake up and wrap your arms around him. "I've missed you!"

"I missed you too" He kisses you softly. "I'm going to get a shower then come to bed." You smile and nod excitedly waiting for him to come back. Sam went on a hunting trip with Dean and he was gone for a couple days it was only supposed to be 2 days but ended up being 5. You were upset about it but you know it's part of his job, you're just happy he's home safe.

Soon Sam comes crawling into bed with you, you're too excited to go to bed now. He wraps his arms around you, you rest your head on his chest.

"How was it?" You ask

"It was okay, no one got hurt thank god." He answers with his eyes closed, he's definitely so tired. "I missed my baby the whole time though." He opens one eye and finds you beaming at him. He laughs at you and kisses your head. You let him go to bed.

The next day Sam was standing with a gift bag in front of him, it was from you.

"Okay open it!" You smile holding the camera steady.

"Why do you have to record me?" He whines, jokingly.

"Just open it" You shake your head. He reaches down and pulls out an infant outfit "Read it out loud."

"Best daddy?" He read confused. "Is, did Dean get someone pregnant?" you can't believe he asked that, you give him a 'are you serious' look. "Oh, are you?"

"Yes!" You beam at him happily.

"What?" He places the onsie down nicely and pulls out a pregnancy test from the bag "How?"

you put your camera down "Are you not happy?"

"What? No of course I am!" He comes up to you and gives you a big hug "I just wasn't expecting that." He kisses you sweetly "We're going to be parents" He says giddy.

"I love you so much, you're going to be the best daddy." You smile at him. He kisses you again.

~ Everything is going great with the baby and the pregnancy. You're almost due so Sam isn't going on hunts anymore, plus Dean is here all the time just in case, he's so excited about becoming an uncle. Sam won't let you do anything on your own, no cooking, no getting up without super vision. It's sweet but also annoying. Honestly you're really lucky to have someone who cares so much.

At 5 months you found out the baby was going to be a boy! Sam was excited he almost squeezed you too hard. You both were truly excited and so happy to have a healthy baby boy. The next day Sam decorated the baby's room, all 'boy' stuff top to bottom he wanted it to be perfect. He seriously is going to be the best dad. Sam and Dean also protected the entire room from just about anything, life of a hunter never changes sadly.

Sam cuddles up to you while you're on the couch watching tv, your back is killing you today so you did almost nothing. You just want time to relax before the baby comes, only a few days!

"Ow!" You scream out and hold your stomach. You feel wet and your heart starts pounding. "Oh no" you whisper.

"Is it time!?" Sam springs up and grabs your bags.

"It's time!?" Dean comes running out of the guest bedroom, he grabs the bags from Sams hands and runs outside.

"Help me up." You say to Sam, he does of course. He helps you outside carefully. He gets you into the car, Dean of course is already in the drivers seat ready to take off. Sam sits in the bag with you trying to coach you through your breathing.

~ 23 hours later ~

"He's perfect." Sam smiles holding your baby. "You did a great job, sweetheart." Sam kisses you sweetly. Dean is finally allowed in the room now that you're in a regular hospital room.

"Oh my" Dean says quietly "He's so small" He smiles at the baby.

"Do you want to hold him?" Sam asks, you smile at the two big boys completely crumbling down for this tiny human. Dean sits down in one of the seats gently rocking the baby.

"What's his name?" Dean asks, you and Sam smile at each other.

"John." You both say, Dean smiles even wider.

#supernatural smut #sam whinchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #sam and dean #supernatural dean #dean winchester

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thestruidora · 1 year

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Sweetheart

Supernatural Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Yandere, Borderline Personality Disorder, Stalker, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Angst, Fluff and Smut, Rape/Non-con Elements, Hurt/Comfort, Therapy, Miscommunication, Plot With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink

Category: F/M

Pairings: Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader

Summary: Dean has borderline personality disorder and the reader is his favorite person.

Chapter Updates: Masterlist

Author's notes: I don't even what to write in here at this point. All I can say is that I really hope you guys enjoy because it took me fucking forever to write.

Chapter Four

The Tower

“The Tower is about sudden, shocking change. Change that can knock you off your feet and alter your future as you thought you knew it.”

“Alright, everyone, good work today. See you ladies tomorrow!” George, the construction site’s foreman, yelled out to the workers the second the clock struck 5 p.m.

“Fucking finally.” Dean murmured to himself, putting down the sledgehammer he was holding and taking off his safety gloves, hands free at last to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

“That eager to come home to the wife, huh?” Sid asked him with a knowing smirk, and Dean smiled in return, amused at just how far off his colleague was.

“Oh, you don’t know how much.” He said it with ease, taking off his goggles and patting away the fine dust from his hair.

“I would be too if I had a great gal like Lisa to come home to.” Sid winked at Dean, hands busy with removing his own safety gear.

“Yeah, she’s… She’s great.” The Winchester nodded and looked to the side, the fake smile dying on his lips. “Anyways, I’mma head out. Talk to you tomorrow, Sid.” He bids his farewell, feet moving towards the parking lot, not wanting to prolong the conversation.

“See ya.” Sid waves him off, even though Dean's back was already to him.

Once he's inside his monstrosity of a car — the respectful family minivan —, he lets out a long, deep-rooted sigh.

Out of the windshield, he can see the beginning of sunset, the light blue sky seamlessly turning to a burning orange. If you ask him, the end of his shift couldn't have come fast enough. The days have been longer than usual, each one stretching itself out more than the one before. The hours drag by, and it sure doesn't help that he's been counting them.

But he can't help it, he hasn't seen you in a long time. Too long. Almost two weeks. Twelve excruciating days.

He'll have his session with you in a couple of days, and you'll finally be face-to-face with him again. ‘Cause it's not like he hasn't seen you from afar this whole time, that'd be crazy. He has to keep an eye on you, right? To protect you.

That's what he's been doing. Protecting you. Ever since the very first time he set foot in your office and you told him that the two of you could no longer be friends, he dedicated himself to reverting the situation, but to no avail since you could be so stubborn.

His line of communication with you became thinner and thinner and it felt like the more he tried to reach for you, the more he risked breaking it altogether.

He no longer saw you at the dog park, since your friend with terrible timing had decided to come back from her vacation and get Loki back from you.

You had never officially given your personal phone number to him, even though he has had it for a while now. It couldn't have been easier to obtain, he just saved the contact after seeing your open phone bill atop the table in your living room on one of the many occasions in which he had let himself into your apartment.

So he couldn't just call you out of nowhere, it would be weird and it would raise questions.

He couldn't do it.

It didn't matter that you had canceled his last appointment and that had set him off into a panic attack, which he had never had before.

It didn't matter that he couldn't stop thinking that you had grown tired of him and his stupid problems and his endless daddy issues.

That he literally could not breathe at the thought of how worthless and pathetic you must think he is.

Even though your receptionist had assured him that she made a mistake and overbooked you that week, he couldn't believe that.

You were sick of him, that's what it was.

It had to be.

And even as he sits in the driver's seat of his revolting minivan, knowing full well that he's only a couple of days away from being with you in person, he can't help but want to be near you right now. Just so he can fix it. Whatever it was about him that made you loathe him and despise him, he can change.

He has to see you at that very instant.

It's all he can think about as he turns on the vehicle's engine and drives exactly at the speed limit from the construction site all the way to your house, parking on the other side of the street as he always does.

The big glass windows of your apartment allow for ample observation of whatever occurs inside, giving Dean a privileged view of your form as you turn on the lights on your way from your living room to the kitchen. Your silhouette is bathed in the warm glow of the lamps that shine through its surroundings and light up the space now that the sun has set and night has fallen.

He can see your fingers moving nimbly as you wash whatever dishes you find in the sink, bringing your damp hand to your forehead and then moving to rub at your nape with a sigh when you’re finished.

He can tell you still have your work clothes on as you must have just come home. And it’s not difficult to imagine how tired you are from the frown creasing in the middle of your eyebrows. He can visualize it so clearly now, his own fingers moving delicately across your skin to smooth that frown away.

He has watched you from this exact vantage point for months and it still feels like the first time with the way his heart aches with the need to be closer. The way his hand closes in a fist as though to contain the desire to reach out and touch you in some way.

But alas, he can’t. Because you would turn him away. You would be scared of him. He knows you would, so he just leans back in the car seat, attempting to control the flurrying in his chest, and watches.

You untie your hair from the ponytail you had it in as you move back to the living room and it falls around your face, caressing your neck. Something catches your attention and you walk to your discarded purse on top of the coffee table, retrieving your phone from it. Whatever it is that flashes through the screen causes a smile to appear on your lips before you raise the device to your ear and start to talk.

Dean fidgets in his seat with the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing who is on the other end of the line, but he tries not to let his mind wander to dangerous places. Your sister, perhaps?

You use your shoulder to secure your phone to your ear as you bring your hands down to your shirt and begin to unbutton it. He sucks in a breath at the sight, unsure of what to do with himself as your fingers work their way down till the top is completely unbuttoned, your bare skin peeking through as well as the fabric of your bra.

He notices your mouth moving to form words he can't decipher while you pull your shirt completely off, throwing it on the spacious couch in the middle of your living room before your legs take you back to the kitchen, where you open the fridge to get a glass of water for yourself.

The refrigerator light illuminates the contours of your exposed stomach and collarbone, the supple flesh of your cleavage lightly bouncing up and down with the way your bust is confined tightly by your bra cups.

Dean thinks he might be on the verge of an aneurysm as he witnesses you drink from the once full glass till the water is entirely gone, a couple of drops escaping from your lips in your haste to quench your thirst, running down your jaw to your neck and disappearing in the space between your breasts.

Suddenly his own mouth is dry and he feels as if he's been lost in a desert for ages, those sinful droplets of water that are lucky enough to travel through the valleys of your body being the only source of hydration that can placate his craving.

Once you're satisfied, you leave the empty glass on the sink and go to the living room yet again, this time stopping by the wall adjacent to your flat-screen TV and bending down to freshen up the bowl of kibble for your cat, taking your time to shake the dish side to side till the shorthaired black Bombay saunters into the common area with a regal air about itself, tail swinging lazily and big golden eyes staring affectionately at you as it meows over and over.

You put down the food bowl on its original place on the floor and stretch your arms out to pet the head of the animal, a loving expression taking over your face, more words pouring out from you to meet the phone's receiver, whatever is being said by the other person causing you to laugh unreservedly, the content of the exchange still an unfortunate mystery to Dean.

The cat advances on its dinner and you observe it for a second, before getting up from your crouched down position and moving to stand directly in front of the perfectly transparent glass window from where he can see you.

Instead of making an attempt to hide, Dean props himself forward in your direction, the darkness of nightfall in your poorly lit neighborhood keeping him undetected by your eyes that scan the landscape through the window, seemingly not finding interest in anything in particular.

He gulps incredulously at what follows; you, phone once again glued to your ear with the help of your shoulder, taking your hands south to your pants, unzipping and unbuttoning it, tugging down the waist of the garment until the top of your panties is showing.

He's now a thousand percent sure that he's in absolute perfect health, because if that weren't the case, his heart would've given out by now. He can hear the organ rapidly beating in his ears, blood pumping fiercely, bringing heat to his face as a mixture of shame and excitement overtakes his mind.

He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be there. A better man would've turned on his car and driven away, and an even greater man wouldn't have come here at all. But Dean proves to be neither of those while he sits there and observes you languidly remove your pants and sigh contently once you've stripped yourself down to your underwear.

You stretch your neck to the left and then to the right, your torso accompanying the movement. Whoever is on the other line appears to say something that you appreciate thoroughly, with the way a wishful smile dances in the corners of your lips, and uneasiness builds inside of Dean at the sight.

He has never been a particularly jealous guy, not with his material possessions — except for Baby —, nor with his romantic partners which, to be fair, had been few in between. Countless one-night stands, sure. But only one or two real ‘girlfriends’ were all the relationships he had to draw reference from. Very short-lived relationships, not to mention.

Of course, there was Lisa, but he never really dated Lisa. They skipped that part and went straight into living together and a marriage proposal, with a kid and a dog in tow. And through it all, he had never experienced the burning feeling of insecurity that he’s feeling right about now.

Who are you talking to at the end of your day? Are these regular calls or just a singular, uncustomary thing? Is the caller an important person to you? Do they play a crucial role in your life? Do they fill a space that Dean could not?

That’s an ominous notion that he’s not sure he can bear. An ugly and twisted, unexpected emotion that Dean hadn’t been previously introduced to takes hold of him as those thoughts ruminate in his mind.

You walk away from the window and make your way towards the couch. A deep exhale leaving you as you sink down onto the soft cushions, a sense of comfort and relaxation appearing to wash over you.

While engrossed in your conversation, the pads of your fingers patter down the expanse of your neck, where they land just below your collar, ending up playing with the strap of your bra.

You tug and readjust the thin piece of material, your eyes unfocused as they stare at the far wall in front of you, blinking slowly while your mouth takes its sweet time to form the words as they come out, the way your lips shape around the unintelligible sounds rendering Dean utterly hypnotized.

There’s something wicked about this.

The fact that he can see you so clearly from the outside of your home, the place where you feel safe, the space where you can allow yourself to be your utmost true, surrounded only by the privacy of your walls.

The reality that he has pierced that barrier and infiltrated a moment that would otherwise be shared with nobody but you.

The position that you are in, so exposed without even knowing, so much of your smooth skin, bare only for his eyes in the quiet of the night.

The way a pleasant tingle spreads between his legs, blood rushing south, filling his cock inside his pants.

There’s something sinister about it, but Dean can’t will himself to care. Quite the opposite, he almost likes it.

His pupils dilate when you switch the phone to your other ear so that your right hand is free and you stretch it behind your back, your arm contorted in a tugging and twisting gesture till finally something snaps open, literally.

The hook of your bra comes undone and you pull the right strap, the same one you were playing with only mere moments ago, off your shoulder and then repeat the process on the other side.

There’s a second of anticipation, a breath that Dean holds in while he leans forward in the car seat as much as humanly possible so that he won’t miss what’s unfolding before him, and then you remove the cups that laid atop your breasts, uncovering the pert nipples that grow into peaks when subjected to the chill air of the evening.

“Holy shit.” His tongue instinctively pokes out to wet his parched lips, since he seems to have forgotten how to breathe through his nose, taking big gulps of air, mouth agape.

You throw the item of clothing aside unceremoniously, not caring where it lands, a noise so full of content escaping you that it reaches him all the way across the street. You rub at the indents the underwire left where it had been held tightly, your hand massaging the skin around your tits, cupping them from the side, and then letting go, the mounds jiggling freely in the most enticing of motions.

He didn’t think he would get to see you like this one day. Maybe never. He wished for it, longed for it, but he couldn't honestlyenvision it happening. He didn’t think he deserved it. He has daydreamed about it, sure, but not once in this scenario, not with him so far away where he can’t touch you, where he can only look.

The light coming from the lamp in the ceiling shone down on you, highlighting the dips and curves of your physique as you sat on your sofa. Like something out of a fantasy book, you cross and uncross your legs, perched on the pliant pad like a mythical creature, dressed only in your underpants. Like a dream.

The person you were talking to must make some sort of funny remark then, due to the way you proceed to throw your head back in laughter and twirl a finger in your hair, Dean’s eyes following the action frame by frame, entranced in the show. To gaze upon you naked like this is arousing in a whole new way.

It’s uncharted territory.

It’s different from porn.

It’s intimate and real.

Because he knows you. He’s seen you in your casual, everyday clothes, and in your stuffy work attire as well. But to be able to spy on what’s underneath.

To get a glimpse of the lovely, overly polite girl from the dog park; the shrewd, excessively serious therapist that leans back in her armchair and analyzes his every move, his every word.

To see you stripped down to your plain cotton panties and nothing more. There’s a vulnerability to it.

He’s forced to palm his dick through the tough material of his jeans when it stiffens and twitches inside his boxers.

Your hand leaves your hair and falls to your mouth, both index and middle fingers kneading the plump flesh of your lips, countenance lost in thought even as you nod and hum to the individual who called you. The same hand travels to your chest, just above the mass of your breasts, where you draw featherlight circles with the tips of your nails.

You seem to really enjoy the sensation, eyelids dropping till they’re closed, slumping down on the furniture that supports you.

Even as you relax in your seat, your fingers don’t quit their journey downwards, anchoring themselves on a particular patch of skin on the side of your boob. A saucy smile breaks from you, teeth showing while your eyes remain shut and you say something Dean can’t make out.

He has never once seen that look on your face, an impish, mischievous air that he wouldn't have expected from you.

Your arm moves just slightly and you grab your nipple, caressing the tumid, puffy bud with gentle, barely-there touches that become bold and confident once you hear something from the other end that encourages you, that shameless smirk widening on your lips.

Dean feels his entire body tense up, from the ends of his hair to the toes of his feet. A sudden jolt of adrenaline causes his heart to race as he watches in disbelief and confusion. And it takes a while, a little too long, for him to begin processing what is happening.

You are fondling your breast, teasing the tip, letting out a small gasp when a wave of ecstasy clearly hits you and your eyes snap open. You can hardly contain your enthusiastic laugh at whatever your mystery caller tells you and then you move to pinch and tug at your neglected nipple, wiggling on the couch, biting on your bottom lip.

You’re… Giddy. Acting naughty and unabashed, toying with yourself while on the phone with someone.

‘Cause you’re definitely not talking to your sister.

But then who? Who’s the motherfucker you give your time to? Your attention? Your carefree attitude? Your sexed-up, wild side?

Because you’d barely even muster a fucking genuine smile to Dean the last few times you saw him, and for a while, he tried to convince himself that you were not disinterested in him, you simply weren’t interested in anybody.

Well, that’s obviously not the case.

You don’t want him, specifically.

But you do want some other guy. Some other idiot who could never understand you the way Dean does. Never comprehend what it feels like to lose your family, to lose a brother. They could never share that bond with you.

Whoever that asshole is to you, Dean can be more. He’s sure of it.

But they’re the one you’re sighing wantonly for. Breathing accelerating as you let go of your left tit and run your hand down your stomach, inching closer to the waistband of your underwear. Your legs part to give way to your obscene exploration and you rub at your center, fingers carefully contouring the outline of your pussy over the cloth of your panties.

A head-spinning mixture of anger and excitement hits Dean so strongly it gives him whiplash. He has to blink a couple of times to try and wear off his shock, vision shifting from blurry and then to clear again as he fights off this dazed feeling that attempts to consume him.

He just couldn't believe it.

You are pawing at your clit, patting the sensitive button, drawing tight circles through the material of your underwear till a wet spot darkened the shade of the fabric. A puff of hot air leaves your parted lips at the sensations you’re bringing out of yourself.The corners of your mouth rise as you whisper some dirty secret into the receiver.

You are so lewd and indecent, without any inhibitions. All for someone else.

And for how long? Did you know them for a considerable amount of time or were they a random hookup, the type you can flirt and have phone sex with but no emotional connection to?

Either way, you must like them. You must find them alluring and attractive. Probably way more than you found Dean to be since you never so much as gave him a once-over.

Were they good-looking?

Were they interesting or charming?

Were they worthy of you?

No. Of course not.

How could they possibly be worthy of you? How could they possibly deserve your impatient, feverish expression or the broken sob that erupts from your throat as you continue to stroke your pleasure point side to side?

How could they have earned the bucking of your hips when you can’t take the feeling of your damp panties clinging to your throbbing core any longer and your hand makes a move to the hem of your underwear, with the intention of touching under the fabric?

He can’t conceive of it. He can’t wrap his head around this being fair. You can’t choose them over him. You just can’t.

Dean reaches for the cell phone in his pocket with trembling fingers, mind fuzzy with too many emotions that he isn’t able to put in order. Jealousy and envy swirling into an interchangeable spiral. Lust and frustration biting each other’s tails. Disappointment and hope swaying to an eerie ballad as his thumb shakes while it presses your name and then the call button.

He takes note of the moment your device starts ringing, the way you react by pulling your arm away from between your legs, frowning at the unknown number flashing across your screen, and interrupting your ongoing connection.

You exhale deeply only to take a calming breath in, looking irritated, saying something of little importance to the bastard you were conversing with, and then suddenly the tone by Dean’s ear stops, there’s a soft click when you pick up, and the Winchester is overwhelmed by the sound of your voice as it envelops him after what felt like forever.

“Hello?” You greet, putting a hair strand behind your ear.

There’s a pause when all of Dean’s blood rushes to his brain, causing an intense dizziness, and he has to contain the need to gasp audibly for air.

He didn’t think this through.

He didn’t think at all.

He just acted.

The idea of losing you bringing a suffocating pang of despair, a feeling that proved itself to be entirely too great to withstand, and Dean just… Moved, without taking the time to consider the consequences of his actions.

But he had to do something. He couldn't just stand idly by while you were being taken from him. Not that you were ever his, to begin with, but he can still change that. You just need to give him a chance. Which seems unlikely to happen now that he has called your number, the one he isn’t supposed to have.

“Eh…” He doesn’t know what to say.

He wasn’t prepared for this. He didn’t have a game plan or a strategy on how to conduct himself. He hadn’t mapped out how this exchange would go in his head, as he typically does. He hadn’t devised a way to take control of the situation.

“Hey, Y/N.” Was all he could come up with.

You appear to be unsettled for a moment, blinking a few times while you search for a name amongst your friends and family that would match the deep, gruff timbre that addressed you and then you ask.

“Who’s this?” You don’t recognize his voice, and it stings to know that you think of him so little, when he thinks of you sooften.

“It’s, uh- Dean.” Should he disclose his last name, as well?

You knit your brows, and he has to convince himself that is not disapproval nor displeasure that he sees flickering across your face.

“Oh, hi, Dean. How are you?” You fix yourself in your seat, choosing to recline your head on the back of the sofa, elongating your neck, and bending your spine. Your chest sticks out as a result, the artificial light coming from above reflecting on the dewy skin of your exposed breasts, and Dean is rendered speechless for a split second.

“I’m alright. How are you?” He manages to respond.

“Fine.” Your eyes roam the space of your living room in confusion, as if him calling you was the strangest of developments. “Hmm, how can I help you?” That’s a great question. You can stop having phone sex with other people, for starters.

“Y-you know, it’s been a while since we had our last session and I just thought that it might be good to have a chat like, before, just to catch up on everything.” It’s his reply.

He can hear the way he sounds, voice faltering, words coming out rushed. It fills the inside of the car and bounces against the walls before entering his ears, the uncertainty so raw that he cringes at what you, a psychologist, might be able to read between the lines.

“Okay…” You stretch out the last syllable, absolutely not buying what he was selling. “But we only had to reschedule one of your appointments, right?” It sure felt like longer than that.

“Yeah, just the one.” He runs a rough hand down his cheek, rubbing at his mouth in a soothing gesture, his palm meeting the prickly stubble lining his jaw in the process. “I think it’s because it’s been a while since we talked without it being in that setting, and I thought we could have a more relaxed conversation, like the ones we had before.”

“I see.” Your features wilt, expression taking on an exasperated look and you turn your head towards the opposite side of the window, hindering Dean’s view of you, but he could swear he caught a slight row of your eyes. “Dean, I was under the impression that we had already discussed this, and why it’s simply not… Viable.”

“I know.” He said it way too loud, having to make an effort to bring the volume of his next sentences down. “And I get it, I’m a patient and that’s all that I can be, but I just wish that we-” You raise your fingers to eye level, checking your nails for imperfections, not particularly displaying much enthusiasm in your demeanor. He puffs out a breath through his nose, completely out of his element. “That we could go back to being friends.”

“I understand.” You let out an annoyed sigh. “But I need to be perfectly clear with you. Once I became your therapist, there was no ‘going back’. Even if we stopped having our sessions, we still couldn't regain the relationship we had before. You’ve shared deep, extremely personal information about yourself with me, and I have analyzed you as a psychologist. There’s no possibility of me ever not seeing you as a patient.”

Dean takes in everything you say, each statement feeling like a stab in the chest. The little world he had built inside his head, for you and him only, crumbles to the ground as if it was made of sand. Disillusion wraps around his throat and he grips the steering wheel till his knuckles turn white.

“Well, fuck.” You make a displeased sound at the curse word he blurts out, almost making it seem like you weren’t sitting on your couch only in your underpants, but he’s quick to rectify anyway. “I’m sorry. There’s probably no good reason for me to ask what you’re doing Saturday night, then?” He chuckles, making a poor attempt at a joke.

Why did he say that? He knew what your response would be. He isn’t some utterly delusional, socially oblivious, lovesick teenager. At least, he never was before. He used to be the complete opposite. A confident, self-assured lady-killer that wouldn’t be caught dead pining over a clearly uninterested woman.

And now look at him.

Why must he humiliate himself like this? When did he turn into that kind of guy? No wonder you find him pathetic.

“No.” You answered, curtly, and even though you’re unaware that he can see you, you shake your head side to side, only to reinforce the refusal. “I mean, you can ask, but I’m just going to give you a deflective answer.”

A toe-curling embarrassment hangs in the air around the two of you, resembling a strong, overly sweet perfume that refuses to dissipate, and all Dean can think to do is retreat, go home to lick his wounds from this lost battle.

Why did you need to be so difficult?

“Whelp, guess I finally got the message. Loud and clear.” A deafening silence extends itself and he clears his throat, the awkwardness building with it. “See you in a couple days in your office, Y/N.”

“Sure.” You agree, and he’s about to hang up before you stop him. “Wait, Dean-”

“Yes?” There’s so much in that one question. It’s just three small letters, but they mean a lot more.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘Did you change your mind?’

‘One word from you, and I’m yours.’

“How did you get this number?” Is what actually comes out of your mouth and Dean deflates, face scrunching up as he murmurs a quiet ‘shit’. Of fucking course that’s what you would say.

“You gave it to me.” He offers, clean and simple. In his opinion, it’s always best to deliver a short, detail-free lie that can be molded and shaped into whatever fits his narrative.

“I…” You think long and hard for a bit, bringing your right knee up, resting your arm on it. “I don’t remember doing that. Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure. How else would I have it?” He tightens his lips, praying to God that you’ll fall for that.

“Um…” You pause, considering what would be the alternative. If he managed to get a hold of your contact without it coming from you, that would mean that he’s some sort of creep, psycho stalker, and surely, you wouldn't make that low of a judgment about him. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I did, then. It’s just that this is my personal number, so if you ever feel the need to reach me again, I would appreciate it if you did it through the business one.”

Ouch. You weren’t pulling any punches today, were you?

“Of course.” Dean agrees through gritted teeth, his ego more bruised than his face after a whole round with the Devil. “My mistake.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You crack your knuckles in the same way he often does and the corners of his mouth lift involuntarily. You were made for him. You just don’t know it yet, and he can’t be mad at you for that. “Have a good night, Dean.” You wish, at last.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” It’s the last thing he says before you hang up and the line disconnects.

He stays for a while longer, resting the back of his head in the driver’s seat, fingers anxiously tapping on the dashboard while he waits to see if you’ll call that son of a bitch again. But you only fidget with your phone for a minute or two before you put it down, coaxing a sigh of relief out of Dean’s lungs.

You get up from the couch and make a beeline for your bedroom then, taking time to lightly scratch at your scalp with the ends of your nails in circular motions, finding the sensation relaxing if your hum of delight was anything to go by.

You stop in front of your closet, opening it to fetch a towel from inside. Once you have it in your grasp, you leave your bedroom and walk the short path to your bathroom, closing the door behind you, the wooden barrier blocking Dean’s field of vision.

Dean can’t hear the shower running, but he can see the vapor escaping from under the entrance and decides it’s time to go. He turns the key and the engine sparks to life, the drive to his house in the picture-perfect suburbs filled solely with thoughts of you. He fixates on whether or not you’re accepting of hot showers only, since he can’t stand them. Maybe the two of you could find a happy medium whenever you choose to shower together.

With that image in mind, he can’t fight the smile that creeps on his lips as he parks and exits the minivan after reaching his destination, the first thing he hears upon crossing the entryway being Thor’s excited barks and the familiar sound of his paws on the foyer’s floor when he runs to welcome Dean back home.

“Hey, buddy.” The Winchester kneels down to pat the German Sheppard’s soft coat, allowing a few affectionate licks from the dog to land on the side of his face before getting up again.

“You’re here.” Lisa’s voice announces as she enters the space, eyeing Dean up and down, inspecting him for something that she doesn’t seem to find. “I didn’t know if you were coming home.” He scoffs at her choice of words.

“What is that supposed to mean?” It’s a challenge. He wants her to say what she’s really thinking. He wants her to yell at him, hit him if that’s what she wants to do.

“Ben was asking for you at dinner.” She averts her gaze, a looming melancholy painted on her pretty brown eyes and Dean’s vexation dwindles.

“Where is he?” He asks.

“Playing video games in his room.” She still doesn’t look at him, preferring to find a nondescript spot on the wall to the right of them to focus on.

“I’ll talk to him before it’s time to go to bed.” He tells her, earning a soft ‘hmm’ in response. He waits to make sure the conversation has come to an end, and she folds her arms, hugging her own waist and remaining quiet.

With nothing left to say, he leaves her where she stands, slow-moving feet taking him to the garage. He closes and locks the door behind him, staring for too long at the outline of the Impala that rests in the room, cloaked by a large tarp.

There are wall-mounted shelves littered with all types of tools and forgotten items, and hidden behind all the paraphernalia, he uncovers the box he came looking for.

He plucks it from its secret place and cradles it in his hands, as if it contained a precious treasure. He then sits in the old recliner they put out of service and moved into the garage a few months back, laying the box on his lap and getting comfortable against the upholstered leather.

He lifts the lid of the box, finding his prized collection in the same way he left it. The dainty necklace with a shiny pendant hanging from its chain. The body lotion that emanated a refreshing and pure smell. A pair of your panties, the off-white lacy one that made his head spin. Those were the souvenirs he took from your apartment and now keeps with him.

Prior to tonight, he had only stared at them in fear and wonder. He feared his actions, how far he was willing to go just to maintain even some small pieces of you close to him. But at the same time, he couldn't help but admire the objects with an awe-inspired twinkle in his eyes.

His right hand moved towards your underwear, fingers lightly brushing the delicate cloth, learning how it feels to the touch. The tactile sensation of rubbing the pads of his fingers against the crotch panel of the garment caused Dean’s skin to prickle with an unnerving heat.

You had been wearing plain cotton panties that night, and yet they looked so appealing as they clutched you by your hips and hugged your ass. Dean brought the piece of clothing he was holding closer, inspecting it carefully, raking over the tiny intricacies with his fingertips.

He imagined you in front of him, dressed only in this flimsy little thing. Would you wear lace for him the first time you let him fuck you? Would the material cling to your pussy lips when he got you wet like you were tonight?

No, he could get you wetter. He could ruin you.

He found himself taking the bottle of lotion and setting the box to the side of him, ragged breaths echoing in the quiet of the room. There’s a fire spreading through his lower abdomen, a burst of need he hasn’t felt this intensely in a long while.

His penis twitches in his pants, begging for attention and Dean gropes it with the hand that is still holding your underwear, just grazing it instead of giving it the friction it demands.

He shuts his eyes, and behind his closed eyelids, he envisions you so clearly. Knelt down between his legs, your smaller, soft hand being the one to scrape the surface of the bulge inside his jeans, teasing him mercilessly.

“Look at how dirty you are.” You’d say, an amused smile plastered on your lips. “Dick half-hard and growing while you finger my stolen panties.”

Dean wouldn't dare touch you, lest you disappear before him like a mirage, so he’d busy his hand by bringing the fine lacy fabric he had been caressing to his face, putting it against his nose and, inhaling deeply. Nothing other than a faint smell of laundry detergent fills his senses, but in his mind’s eye, it’s the sweet scent of your dripping cunt that permeates the space around him and makes his mouth water.

“Want you so bad.” He’d pant, whiny and desperate.

“I know.” Your tone would be so condescending, grinning a cruel grin whilst you’d line the span of his member with the edge of your nails and blow a puff of hot air on it, letting your pouty lips ghost over the swelling organ. “You’re such a pervert.”

You’d look up at him with a lascivious glint darkening the color of your irises, weightless fingers working to undo the zipper of his pants before your hand would delve inside his boxers and takes hold of his pulsating length.

Dean would bite into the cloth of your underwear in a laughable attempt to hold in the hopeless moan that you’d coax out of him as you’d pull out his manhood, now fully erect and needy.

“Your cock is so pretty.” You’d utter under your breath, more to yourself than to him. A fascinated look on your face as you’d stare at it from base to glans, eyes glazing over. “I love how flushed you’re at the tip.”

You’d use your thumb to press at the opening of the urethra as your other fingers wrapped around the mushroom head, and Dean would buck his hips and whimper when you’d smear the precum that had gathered there.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re weeping.” You’d coo and suckle at your thumb, eagerly lapping at the taste, releasing the digit with a pop once it was stripped clean of his essence.

Dean’s eyes would widen at how depraved you could be, how absolutely filthy and debauched you were just for him, and his heart would swell with pride and his brain would swim in endorphins.

“Do you want me to suck it? Put it in the back of my throat?” You’d ask without any intention of gaining a response from him, half of your words coming out muffled since you’d try to speak with your mouth full, alternating your attention between laving your tongue on the tender intersection where Dean’s foreskin would be if he hadn’t been circumcised, and stubbornly seeking to close your lips around the middle of his shaft, head leaned horizontally as you’d litter him with wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“I- I can’t.” He’d cry out, the sodden material of your lace underpants becoming saturated in his saliva, falling through his teeth, and landing on the floor when he couldn’t keep his shameful sobs in any longer. “I need you to come here.”

“I am here, silly.” You’d giggle with no real humor and, like the vixen you are, you’d place both your hands on each of his knees and prop yourself up just enough that the divine softness of your tits would rub up against his member, taut nipples grazing the sensitive flesh and causing Dean to grunt, on the verge of overstimulation.

You would've barely touched him, and he would have been reduced to a puddle in your grasp, every nerve ending in his body feeling raw and overexposed.

“No, come up here. Sit on my face.” He’d beg and you would laugh at the broken state of his voice, but still oblige him.

You’d stand up slowly, your bare tits shaking tantalizingly with the movement and catching his eyes, the way your cunny would still be hidden by the same pair of tight, plain panties driving Dean mad.

You’d move closer then, placing one of your knees on each of his thighs and climbing over him with the help of his arms as they moved to grab a handful of your ass cheeks, the soft mewl that you’d try to keep in stealing his breath away.

“This is what you wanted?” Your timbre would be pure venom once both your legs straddled his shoulders and you held on to the shelves on the wall for support, you’re clothed pussy hovering mere inches from his mouth. “This is what you dreamed of, you freak?”

“Yes.” He’d confess and try to force you to sit down properly by pulling at your flanks, but you’d swat his hands away with a condemning ‘tsk’ and he’d crane his neck up, tongue sticking out to get a taste of the cloth that concealed your lower lips but only being capable of brushing against it with the tip of the muscle. “Please.”

“Oh, my goodness, you’re such a brat.” You’d mock his restlessness, holding firmly onto the wooden shelves as a way to prevent him from making further contact with your center. “All whiny and needy for me.”

Dean would moan in ecstasy when you’d gradually lower your hips by a tiny fraction, allowing him to moisten the fabric of your underwear with kitten licks, giving out a lament as he failed to fully wrap his lips on the sweet spot between your legs.i

He would pinch at the skin of your inner thighs, using his big hands to knead the flesh around your vulva, wordlessly imploring you to give him what he craved.

“Drop your weight on my face.” His voice would come out all raspy with yearning, and yet he wouldn’t care. “Please, Y/N.”

As if you were a goddess tired of the constant prayers and supplications that he laid at your altar, you’d take pity on his poor soul and finally sink yourself down completely against him.

The heat of his mouth would immediately envelop your middle as a sob escaped from deep in his chest, and he would start to suck on your clit through the cotton of your panties like a man possessed.

“What a crybaby.” You’d snicker and his ears would heat up in embarrassment, but he would ignore it in favor of nipping at the fabric that would stick to your pussy due to the mixture of your wetness and his spit.

Dean would gorge himself on you like a starving animal, feasting on your addicting flavor as your slick juices overflowed from you. The sloppy suction noises would reverberate in the room, a continuous frantic slurping that went over the line of pornographic and bordered on offensive.

Even through your taunting, he would hear the soft sounds of pleasure that you would try to control. Your whimpering when his tongue would hit your bundle of nerves just right, and your wailing when he would rake the blunt ends of his teeth over the swollen bud.

“Always wanted to do this.” He’d mumble in between the persistent licks of his tongue on you and his dick would throb as a result of its neglect.

With one hand planted securely on the fat of your right thigh, Dean would let the other move to his deprived manhood, taking hold of it from the base and working his way to the leaking head.

At first contact, The Winchester would feel a shock pass through him, a literal electric pulse that would overtake him with a sensation so strong that he’d be forced to cease his ministrations, the skin of his shaft too sensitive with how hard he had been for so long.

“Can’t even jerk yourself off right, can you?” You’d jeer at him, pressing your gushing cunt to his face, grinding back and forth against his open mouth, and rubbing your stiff clit on his nose, cutting off his air. “Should I get over there so I can spit on that dick, make it really wet?” You wouldn't allow him to answer, using a hand to tug on the short hairs in the back of his head just to hear him moan, the vibrations landing directly on your soaked underwear. “Do you think that would even help or you’re just being an attention whore?”

Your cutting words would only serve to make his member grow even harder, pointing straight at the ceiling, length heavy with rushing blood and balls full of cum, spasming with pent-up readiness, standing perfectly vertical and sullying the shirt that covered the skin below his belly button.

He didn’t even know he could feel pleasure this deep, this piercing, so overwhelming that it blended into pain. And he certainly didn’t know that he would like it, that he would enjoy the overstimulation as much as he did the humiliation. Your scornful remarks causing a fire to spread under his collar, your insolence riling him up to a point where all he could think about was taking whatever you so generously gave him.

Yes, he was a dirty pervert and a freak for you, now would you please shut up and cream on his tongue so that he could form a single coherent thought?

Furthermore, the idea of losing the feeling of your sitting on his face — with the ripe smell of your arousal filling his nostrils at every labored inhale, and the heady taste of your wetness that runs down his jaw —, is so unappealing to Dean that his nails would clamp down on the flesh of your thigh where he held it, so that you couldn't move away.

“Please, let me-” He’d mutter and bob his head up and down on your pussy, the grip you had on his hair tightening and eliciting a groan from him at the sting.

He’d take the forgotten bottle of body lotion, using his thumbnail to pry the lid open. Without being able to see what he was doing, he’d blindly coat a considerable amount of the balmy substance on the leaking head of his dick, the cream mixing with his pre as he gently massaged it down the shaft.

With the moisturizer lubing him up, the rough friction of his calloused hand on the delicate tissue of his massive hard-on would be pleasantly reduced, and an animalistic whine would get caught in his throat from the relief that came with stroking his needy length properly, the rumble of it reaching your center and making more of your molten honey to ooze out of you.

“You’re fucking delicious.” He’d tell you, delirious from the unmatched satisfaction of savoring you ceaselessly, watching you undulate your hips when he sucked you just right while he milked the meat of his penis.

“Yeah? You like it that bad? Eating me out just like this?” You’d ask, all breathy and hoarse, eyes crossing and tongue lolling out to wet your dry lips. “You’re are so sick, fisting your cock while your therapist sits on your face.”

Your filthy mouth would spur him on, the flicks of his wrist getting faster and erratic, the obscene wet noises becoming louder as he drank from you, the clean scent of your lotion pervading the air.

“Uggh!” He’d grunt, suckling on your clit in a wild frenzy, hand flapping up and down the shaft of his quivering dick, the two of you tangled in a mess of limbs and fluids, and it still wouldn't seem to be enough.

He’d want more, he’d want all of you. He’d want to mark you in love bites and paint you with his seed. On your pretty face, on your soft tits, on your lovely cunny.

God, he wanted to cum inside you, stuff you so full of him that you’d forget your own name. He’s sure you’d be tight, but he’d stretch you out, mold you to the shape of him. Plant his sticky essence so deep into you that you could never rinse it off, never rid yourself of him.

He would hear you cry out when you reached your peak, euphoria weighing down your bones and turning your brain to mush. That elastic band of tension would finally snap, and Dean would groan as the first ropes of his release would spurt out of him, landing on his lower abdomen and soiling his clothes. He wouldn't stop pumping the span of his cock, nor would he stop lapping at the dripping fabric of your covered pussy, extending your orgasms till the muscles of your calves began to shake.

Once he was thoroughly spent, he opens his eyes to find no trace of your presence. Only the ticklish sensation of the lace adorning your off-white underpants that he’d been pressing to his face, and the light, enchanting notes of your body lotion that he had used as lube.

It had all felt so real that he takes a while to find his bearings, lungs burning as he gasps for air, never once having experienced this intensity of rapture.

He feels damp with sweat, mingled with the smell of sex, and his hands tremble as they rearrange everything back where it belongs. The leather recliner chair, the now wrinkled clothes he wore, and the priceless box of mementos he kept of you.

After all of it is put back in its proper place, he attempts to fix his disheveled hair before unlocking the door of the garage and tiptoeing around the house.

The wooden floors creak under his feet as he walks to the bathroom, passing through the ajar door of Ben’s bedroom and catching the boy fast asleep in his bed. He hears the clinking of glass coming from the living room and he can assume Lisa is downing her daily bottle of wine.

He goes to bed after taking a relaxing shower, the once tense muscles of his back appearing to be loose and reinvigorated. The soft mattress sinks below his weight, even though his body feels like a flowing feather, and by the time he drifts off to sleep, he dreams only of you.

The next morning, he wakes up early, silently getting ready so as not to disturb the sleep of the brunette who occupies her side of the bed. His breakfast is quick, serving as fuel for the busy day ahead, and the drive to work proves to be uneventful.

It’s tedious labor to go about his business on the construction site, with time seeming to stand still as his mind wanders to more exciting places. A vampire’s nest in Manning, Colorado. A zombie case in Greenville, Illinois. Under your sheets, in your warm embrace.

What a shame wishful thinking doesn’t get him anywhere, though. He will never hunt again, the thrill of the job forever lost, traded by the adrenaline rush of endless sawing and drilling. And as far as spending his time anywhere near the strong pull of your magnetic field goes, Dean refuses to give up. He won’t quit that calling.

“Hey, George, can I talk to you for a sec?” As soon as his watch marks 4 p.m., he marches up to his supervisor and asks the question.

“Sure, what’s up?” The balding man looks up at Dean from his clipboard, ceasing his scribbly writing to give him his full attention.

“I’m gonna need to leave a little early, if that’s okay.” In all honesty, Dean would probably go even if it wasn’t okay. He can always get another gig, but what he had to do today couldn't wait.

“Again? It’s the second time this week alone.” George informed him, putting his pen behind his ear with a furrowed brow.

“I know, but Lisa’s mom has been sick and she’s taking care of her, so sometimes I need to pick Ben up from school.” Dean’s face didn’t twitch by a single millimeter, his gaze never wavering as the lies poured easily from him. “You understand, right?”

George flattened his lips in thought, considering the Winchester’s words.

“Okay, but you owe me.” He said eventually, waggling his index finger at his work colleague.

“You got it.” Dean agreed, smiling contently as he removed his safety gear, patting the foreman on the shoulder before making his exit.

He had the route of your apartment committed to memory, parking in that same spot across your street feeling like the most natural thing to do. Only this time, he had no intention of seeing you perform your daily, mundane tasks, having arrived earlier in the afternoon so that you’d still be in your office.

Your place would be free for him to explore, perhaps succeeding in his search for an object that might be linking the ghost to your home. Once he got that, it was a simple salt and burn and it would be done, you’d be safe. This would mean that, technically, you’d have no need for Dean’s protection, for his watchful eye, or his proximity. He could conclude his therapy sessions with you and go back to his life as if you had never crossed his path.

Everything would be the same as it was before, and Dean could busy himself with dog walks where he’d meet no beautiful women, Ben’s little league softball games, silently having dinner with Lisa, and so on and so forth, ad infinitum.

Yeah, no. Now that he thought of it, he wasn’t going to do that. He was not about to shield himself from your light or deprive himself of your incandescent glow. He was like a moth to a flame, and he had no intention of forsaking your heat. He wasn’t that much of a masochist.

With that issue settled in his mind, he turns off his car’s engine, ready to let himself into your space so that he could rid you from not only this danger, but any others that might present themselves in the future, ‘cause he wasn’t going anywhere. Except that before he can leave his vehicle, he catches a glimpse of a shadow moving inside your apartment.

He squints, trying to get a better look at the figure. As it approaches your living room window, the image of a man becomes clear to Dean’s eyes. He had an average build, not particularly tall. Wavy dark brown hair and clear pale skin, apparently also smoker’s breath from the lit cigarette he was holding.

“The fuck?” Dean curses, whispering to himself, utterly confused by who that man was and what he was doing in your place while you were not there. Did you have a stalker or something?

The guy moves around calmly, taking a puff of nicotine from time to time, checking out the portraits on your wall and the family pictures scattered here and there. He puts out his cigarette when he’s done, preferring to throw it out the window than in a bin, which Dean deduces to be because he doesn’t want you to know he smokes. He then pops a mint into his mouth, as if on cue.

He walks to your bedroom, seeing a lonely stuffed animal on top of your dresser and smiling at it, probably finding the fact that you have it as cute as the Winchester does. He opens your underwear drawer and Dean wants to kill him, gaze at the fear in his eyes before they go dark.

How dare he defile your privacy in this manner? Crudely going through your intimate possessions as if he was inspecting an exhibit in a museum. He shouldn't be allowed to set foot in the room where you lay your head at night, where you are at your most vulnerable. The more time passes with Dean evaluating the situation, the more he wants to go in there and permanently remove that piece of shit from your area.

The man lets out a low whistle when he plucks an especially tiny pair of your panties from the drawer, but before he could do anything more, his phone begins to ring.

“Hi, Y/N.” Dean can read his lips when he picks up, clear as day.

He lets go of the garment, putting it back where he found it and closing the drawer, a stupid smile on his lips as he starts to talk to you, but Dean doesn’t pay attention any longer, completely tuning out after that.

His world seemed to collapse around him. The revelation hit him like a tidal wave, engulfing his heart in a hurricane of seething emotions.

So he was the ‘them’ you were masturbating to last night.

Was he your boyfriend? Fiancé? Dean knew you weren’t married and nothing that remotely inferred that you were in a romantic relationship ever came up. Not during his extensive research on you or when he was the one scouring your apartment. Definitely not during the talks the two of you shared.

Or maybe you simply didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t feel the need to. After all, he was nothing but a patient to you. You certainly had no intention of disclosing personal details of your life, let alone invite him to be a part of it.

The guy talks to you for at least twenty minutes, settling at the edge of your bed. He’s all goofy grins and heart eyes, nervously running his hands through his hair every five seconds, as if he was chatting with his high school crush.

Seriously, this is your type? A wimpy little boy that can’t even handle holding a conversation with you? Has he ever even fucked you properly, or did he just whisper some lines he took off the internet in your ear, and had you take care of yourself?

The mere thought of you, the one he yearns for so deeply, involved with that mouth breather sends waves of uncontrollable rage surging through Dean’s body.

No, this can’t be right. You can’t be wasting your time with someone like this. You could do so much better. He will prove it to you.

Eventually, Fuckface says his goodbye and hangs up, pocketing his cell and getting up from your bed. He straightens the coverings and goes to the kitchen, opening your fridge and taking his sweet time examining the items within.

Dean’s eyes drift out of focus, vaguely aware of what was taking place inside your apartment through his peripheral vision, his brain getting caught in a ruminating spiral.

His head becomes a cauldron of uncontrollable dark thoughts, envisioning what he would have to do to set this right. A chilling torrent of murderous jealousy consumed him, coursing through his veins, demanding satisfaction with a dangerous force.

How could you do this to him? Surely you knew you’re the object of his affections by now, he had made that clear to a point where it was just ridiculous, so why let him burn in fury from the agony of betrayal?

Was this what you wanted, to push him perilously close to the edge?

Maybe it was.

Maybe that was exactly what you intended.

Maybe you were just playing a game of cat and mouse, filling his days with your wonderful, radiating aura and then tugging the rug from under him. Removing your sweet smiles, and your dazzling eyes, and your addictive perfume.

Was this your idea of foreplay?

Fuckface decides on sparkling water — of course he does —, retrieving it from the refrigerator and then moving to explore the contents of the cabinets, searching for a glass.

You need this parasite out of your life. Maybe Dean should exterminate it for you.

He’s so lost in that cyclical headspace that he doesn’t see what was happening at first, the sudden appearance of a flashing shape, the sound of glass shattering and a guttural scream snapping him back to reality.

“Help!” The man begs, voice crackling from sheer terror, a grey-skinned specter rushing at him.

Dean doesn’t even blink, instincts kicking in as he spurs into action, grabbing his salt-loaded shotgun and concealing it in his waistband the best way he can. He leaves his car, sprinting across the street and entering your building, running up the stairs to your floor, climbing two steps at a time.

He bursts through your front door, and he would've for sure broken it off its hinges if it hadn’t been unlocked. He walks forward into your living room, the open-concept layout of your kitchen permitting him to see the gruesome scene as it unfolds.

The ghost of Judith McCook, rotting corpse completely naked, long auburn hair caked to her face with endless dripping water, skin unnaturally grey. She hunches over the guy, snarling like a rabid dog and holding him by his neck with superhuman strength.

Water rushes out the kitchen sink faucet, overflowing it entirely, Judith’s death grip keeping his head submerged. He yells, gurgling under the water, thrashing and flailing helplessly. He pushes against the sides of the sink, arms straining as he attempts to get back up with all of his might.

Dean pulls out his shotgun, aiming at the spirit, salt-loaded cartridges at the ready. He has her in his sights, less than five feet of distance between them. One shot and she would dissipate harmlessly for a short time, enough for the man’s life to be spared.

But… He hesitates.

As he stands there, witnessing the life being drained from a man, a moment of bitter truth pierces through the air. The gravity of the situation was palpable, as fate had placed him at a crossroads. His whole existence had been defined by taking down monsters, saving people, but now conflicting emotions churned within him, tearing at his conscience.

The choice before him was agonizingly clear. Prevent the killing of the one who stood in the way of his own happiness, or let him perish and secure his own desires.

In that fleeting moment, he makes his decision.

The allure of you, of his need to have you all to himself, overwhelms any flicker of empathy or compassion that may have remained and Dean lowers his weapon. He doesn’t look away or closes his eyes, not even flinches, a cruel and calculated resolve settled upon him as he just watches.

The guy’s struggle continued for what felt like forever, desperation rooted deep in his bones while his limbs flapped about, moving erratically. With a cold detachment, Dean waited, till eventually it was over. The moment the man died, body standing still, the ghost vanished, flickering lights accompanying her exit.

The weight of Dean’s ruling, having acted as judge and jury, descends heavily on his soul, forever altering his perception of himself and the darkness he didn’t know resided within.

There are no long sighs or second guesses, he just puts his gun back in his waistband, face unreadable as he gets to work. He rolls up his sleeves, careful not to let the water get on his clothes when he moves to turn off the faucet, pushing the limp body to the floor with a thud.

Under the sink, he unscrews the shutoff valve, allowing a steady stream of water to flow from it. Hopefully, when you come home, which should be soon, you’ll conclude that the soaked floors were due to a plumbing problem. Your apartment already has so many issues, according to you, what’s one more?

The sole of his boots crunch some of the broken glass beneath him, and he goes on to methodically clean it all up, flushing it down the toilet once he’s done.

Back in the kitchen, Dean stares at the cadaver with a tut. He’s lying on his back, lifeless eyes perpetually open and mouth agape.

“Dammit.” The Winchester murmurs to himself, mildly annoyed. It has been a long time since he last had to conceal a body and he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Oh, well. I knew the minivan had to be good for something.”

In less than thirty minutes, he has the corpse in the back of his car and is driving away, thankful that you hadn’t arrived home yet. He crosses state lines, leaving Michigan in favor of disposing of the dead guy as far away from home as possible.

He imagines you’ll wonder about the man, maybe even miss him, but it’ll pass. Dean broke his phone and the SIM card, so soon you’ll come to believe that he simply ghosted you, which makes him chuckle at the irony.

Then, you’ll forget about his existence, free to occupy yourself with what really matters, which is building your relationship with Dean. Because that will happen, whether you like it or not.

It’s past seven at night when he comes home, digging graves not being as easy as he remembered. By the time he crosses the threshold of his house, Thor is at his feet, sniffing instead of barking happily, probably smelling death and dirt on him.

“Finally!” Lisa’s steps are hard and so is her voice when she greets him at the foyer, holding a mysterious bag in her hands, rage taking over her expression.

“I know, you’re pissed about something I did or didn’t do, but can you cut me some slack? I had to work late today. I’m gonna take a shower.” Dean rubs the bridge of his nose as he says it, trying to move around her in the hallway to get to the bathroom, but she blocks his passage.

“I sent Ben to sleep at a friend’s house, we need to talk.” Her gaze doesn’t cower under his like it did last night, her grip tightening on the bag she’s holding.

“For the love of God, now, really? You wanna talk right now?” If there were a contest for world’s worst timing he’s sure she’dwin. All he wants to do at this moment is get in the shower and then drag himself to bed, he has to be rested for his appointment with you tomorrow, after all.

“Yes, I want to talk about the fact that you say you had to work late, but I ran into George at the supermarket an hour ago and he told me that he hopes my mom is feeling better?” She answers without skipping a beat, and Dean curses George and his blabber mouth under his breath. “Yeah, he said that you told him you had to leave work early ‘cause she’s been ill, which surprised me, since that’s the first I heard of it.”

“Okay, that sounds suspicious but I-” He begins to try to explain, not exactly sure where he was going with it.

“Suspicious? It sounds like you’ve been lying to my face, Dean.” She interrupts him, her eyes filling with tears, and Dean can’t pinpoint if it’s from anger or hurt, perhaps both. “You know what? I thought that you were going through a rough patch, that you were missing your brother, I even thought that you started hunting again.”

“Lisa-” He tries once more, but she raises her hand for him to stop.

“And to be honest, I would've understood if it was any of those things.” Her voice cracks and fat tears begin to fall down her cheeks. “But then I find this.” She pulls a box out of the bag she’d been holding, and Dean takes a step forward in her direction when he realizes it’s the box.

“What the fuck is this?” She shouts.

End notes: Yeah, Dean, what the fuck is this?? Also, I do not know who might be interested to know this, but the thing that inspired this story the most was a song by Sleeping At Last called Two, I visualized the plot unfolding after hearing it for the first time, which was years ago. Anyway, the chapters are getting way longer and heavier and that makes them a lot harder to revise, so I was wondering if any of you would be so kind to offer your services as a beta to this fic, it would a great help. Just putting it out there.

#spn fanfiction #dean whinchester #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural smut #fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #pov dean winchester

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 2 years

Text

A Vacation: Dean Winchester x f!Reader (Part 2)

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst?, mentions of sex/sexual themes

Words: 6.6k

Synopsis: Dean takes you to the beach...

I caved and ended up making this long. Oh well, I hope you all enjoy, I'll try to write more Dean fanfics in the future

Part 1

A small sigh left your mouth as you stared at your computer screen. You were back home in the bunker on your bed looking at beach rentals again just to torture yourself.

You had just gotten back from the hunt but the thought of the beach hadn’t left you. In fact, they were more prominent as you remembered how Sam and Dean didn’t seem too fond of the idea.

They were right. There was no time to go on vacation and there was no way you’d be able to pull it off with the few hundred dollars you had. If you really wanted to go, you would have to save up for a few years just to rent the house.

You could just use a motel, but you wanted to splurge since you never got to.

Maybe you’d be able to go one day.

You closed your laptop and left your room. It was best if you didn’t spend all of your time in your room lamenting over it. You were given a small break since no one wanted to go back out hunting so soon, so you decided you would enjoy hanging around the ones you loved.

“Y/n.” Cas greeted from behind you a few feet down the hallway.

“Oh, hey!” You turned around and gave him a smile as you waited for him to walk up beside you. “What’s up?”

“What kind of sunscreen would you get if you were out in the sun for long periods of time?” He wondered with a serious look on his face which made you raise an eyebrow.

That was an odd question but then again Cas was a little odd. Even if he’d been on earth for quite a while now, he still had that angel charm that made him stand out. You wouldn’t have it any other way though. He was your friend and you would never change anything about him.

“It depends on how long you’re going to be out in it but I’d say 100 SPF or 50 SPF.” You explained and he nodded.

“Thank you.” He gave you a quick smile and went to walk past you but you stopped him.

“Why?”

“No particular reason. I think it’s good for one to protect their skin from the sun to limit the risk of getting skin cancer.”

You stared at him with knitted eyebrows but didn’t press him any further. Instead, you watched him walk past you towards the entrance of the bunker with confusion as you tried to think up of the reason why he was interested in sunscreen.

Someone must’ve said something that made him think about it. It was probably Jack. Since the kid hadn’t been around on earth for very long, he still had a lot of questions and something had to have come up for him to tell Cas.

You hoped he hadn’t gotten sunburnt or if he did it wasn’t too bad. Could he even be sunburnt? You weren’t sure but you wanted to find him and ask if he was okay. This would be the first time it’s happened to him and he would most likely need someone to tell him it would be okay.

You searched through the bunker but there was no sign of him anywhere. You weren’t panicked, but you did feel a little sense of urgency to make sure he was at least not freaking out.

Maybe he was in the kitchen.

When you entered the kitchen, Sam and Dean were at the table with lunch in front of them. They were in the middle of talking about something you didn’t catch, but they went quiet when they noticed you.

“Hey, Sam made lunch.” Dean gestured to the plate of food on the counter for you. “If you like rabbit food.”

“I’m telling you, if you keep eating the way you do you’re going to get a heart attack.” Sam argued with a huff.

You chuckled and shook your head. You weren’t particularly hungry but after you figured out where Jack was you wouldn’t mind trying what Sam made. As long as it was edible you didn’t care if it was healthy.

“Thanks. Do you guys know where Jack is?” You asked them and they both raised an eyebrow.

“No-”

“Hi, Y/n.”

Jack stood a few feet from you with a smile. You swore he had grown a few inches since you were gone those few days. He was in a good mood, which was a good sign even if he was regularly like that.

“Hey, kiddo.” You smiled and studied him. You couldn’t see any signs of a sunburn on his face, neck, or hands which meant he most likely didn’t have a burn anywhere else on his body.

“What are you doing?” He wondered curiously as you turned him around to look at the back of his neck.

“Cas was asking me about sunscreen and I was worried that maybe you had gotten a sunburn.”

“I am. If I had gotten sunburnt, it would have gone away quickly anyway.”

You smiled and nodded. You figured that his body would heal it before it became a problem but you had to make sure. The anxiety and guilt for not checking would’ve taken over your entire day and you didn’t want that to happen.

But now you were curious why Cas asked. If Jack wasn’t burnt and you assumed no one else was, then what other reason would he have to ask you about sunscreen.

“Do you know why Cas was asking about it?” You looked at Jack, Sam, and Dean for an answer.

Sam and Dean shook their heads, but internally Dean was panicking.

He had planned a surprise for you. It was going to be simple; he was going to show you a picture of the beach rental he managed to get through his knowledge of credit card fraud and when you asked him why he was showing it to you, he was going to reveal that’s where you all were staying. He’d watch you burst with excitement and become so happy you would smile at him, and maybe even hug him.

He had planned to do that later this evening to give you the entire day tomorrow to pack and get ready.

But he knew now that the surprise was ruined, especially when Jack opened his mouth, and now he was worried things were all going to fall apart.

“Did Dean not tell you about the surprise beach trip?” Jack wondered and tilted his head innocently.

Dean placed a hand over his face and kept his head down. If he could disappear he would to avoid this as he felt his entire upper half burn hot. He didn’t want to look up to see your reaction and it was a good thing he didn’t.

You raised an eyebrow and stared at the older Winchester. You still found the fact that he had been so hung up on the idea on the hunt weird and now Jack was talking about it as if something was actually going to happen.

Why would something after he had made it known it wasn’t possible? Was this a joke? Dean was known to pull jokes like that before and you weren’t sure if that was happening now or not, but you weren’t too happy.

“No, he didn’t.” You crossed your arms with a serious voice.

You hoped it wasn’t a joke. It was just a harmless idea, one that had been spawned because you had been nostalgic and wanted to have a break. If it was however, you wanted Dean to go ahead and say it now before your feelings got hurt more.

“Um, Jack.” Sam cleared his throat. “A surprise is meant to be kept secret from the person you’re surprising.”

“Oh,” Jack’s eyes widened and he looked at you seriously. “Forget what I said, there’s no surprise.”

Your eyebrows knitted together as you looked between all of them. You weren’t about to let this go one any longer, not when all four of them were in on it. Honestly you were a little hurt that Dean would go this far over something like a vacation.

“I get you don’t like the idea of a vacation, but messing with me about it is rude.” Your eyebrows were knitted together as you gave Dean a slight glare.

Dean’s eyes widened and his head shot up. This was going bad quicker and worse than he expected. He knew why you would come to that conclusion, he hadn’t been very open about the idea at first and then asked vague questions about it. But he wasn’t about to let that continue.

He hated when you were mad at him and this was the first time he had done something this big for someone. He didn’t want to screw this up.

“It’s not a joke.” He pulled out his phone and went to the email he got about the beach rental.

He stood up and held out his phone for you to take, his eyes never leaving you. He hated the way his palms were getting sweaty and he really hoped you would take the phone before it slipped from his shaky hands.

You gave him a suspicious look but took the phone. However your eyebrows knitted together and your arms fell to your side as you stared at the email. The longer you did, the more your stomach flipped and your heart raced.

“What is this?” You looked back up at Dean with confusion.

Dean swallowed hard and tried to play it cool. He cleared his throat and gave you his trademark smirk while he scratched the back of his head.

“The beach rental we’re staying at.” He explained and felt his stomach drop when your face dropped. “I found the website you were looking at last night and booked it before we hit the road.”

“Seriously?” You scoffed in disbelief.

“Yeah, seriously.”

You couldn’t believe it. Dean Winchester rented a beach house because you said something about it. He wasn’t asking those questions to make a joke, he had actually wanted to know what you wanted on a vacation.

The thought of him thinking of you alone made your chest warm and made you feel as if you were floating on cloud nine. But he had actually gone and done something that no one had done for you. He had planned to surprise you with it too.

You could kiss him. You wanted to, but you had to hold yourself back because that would make it awkward and that was something you didn’t want right now. Instead, you grinned and laughed. You pulled Dean into a bone crushing hug that he returned almost immediately.

The relief Dean felt almost made his knees buckle. His shoulders relaxed and he left out a silent sigh as he hugged you back. A smile stretched across his face when you bounced on the balls of your feet.

“I can’t believe it! You actually want to go to the beach?” You pulled back and looked at Dean.

“Yeah.” His heart skipped a beat when you became more excited. “A beer in one hand and toes in the sand doesn’t sound like a bad vacation to me.”

“Dean!”

You pulled him into another hug. This one was quick however because when you pulled away, you were already making a mental list of what needed to be done before you left.

Meal plans needed to be made, you needed to get better close suited for the hot weather. You also needed beach supplies like chairs and all that stuff but how were you going to transport that in the impala? No, that didn’t matter right now because you needed to get it first.

“Wait, when are we going?” You stopped and looked at Dean.

“A few days? We’ll be there for a week.” He said and your eyes widened as your stomach flipped again.

“A week? Dean, how the hell did you afford that?”

He didn’t really want to tell you. It wasn’t like you would be mad at him for the credit card fraud but telling you that made him feel…embarrassed. He didn’t have enough of his own money to get you what you wanted so he had to commit a crime. There was no other way and for the first time he felt a little shitty about it.

Just a bit.

“Actually, don’t tell me, it doesn’t matter.” You cut him off before he said anything but he was grateful. “We need to go shopping, I doubt any of us has a bathing suit.”

“You’re right about that.” Dean chuckled.

He watched as you excitedly urged Sam and Jack out of the kitchen while you raved on about what everyone needed to get. He went to follow after you when it struck him and he felt his body heat up.

You. At the beach. In a bathing suit.

Why that hadn’t even crossed his mind he didn’t know, but now that it was he couldn’t get the image out of his mind. His heart raced when he thought about your body being exposed to the sun without anything covering your skin except the suit. The water would drip off your skin and roll across it in places he wished his hands could touch.

Dean caught himself before he continued any further. As much as he wanted to feel your skin against his, he couldn’t allow himself to act on any of that. He just couldn’t.

Not when you were about to have your moment, your vacation.

He also would have to excuse himself and take care of business before he left to go shopping, which brought along the risk of you getting suspicious because why else would he be in his room for a few minutes longer than normal.

No, he would take care of that later tonight. Right now he wanted to be with you and maybe see what bathing suit you were going to pick out.

This was heaven.

Obviously not literally, but you were damn near close to it because of how relaxed you were and it was only the second day on vacation. You never thought you would’ve been able to hear the sounds of the waves hitting the sand again so the sound brought along extra comfort.

The waves would occasionally touch your skin as you knelt down on the sand. You had a small bag of sand castle making tools by you as you built one alongside Jack, giving him tips every now and then.

Not that he needed them really, he was natural at it. He had already built a castle that rivaled even your best ones in childhood, which wasn’t hard to beat, but he was still good at it.

“Nice job.” You said and he smiled. “You gonna dig a moat?”

“I think I might. It’ll catch the waves.” He began to dig one around his castle with his hands.

You smiled and dusted the sand off your hands. He seemed pretty occupied with playing in the sand which meant you could go off on your own. Not too far of course, since you didn’t want to leave him all alone.

“I’m going to see what the others are doing.” You told him and he nodded. “Don’t go into the ocean without telling one of us.”

“Okay!”

You walked up the beach towards the beach house.

It wasn’t very long before you saw Sam, Dean, and Cas relaxing in the sand a few hundred feet from the ocean. Sam sat under the beach umbrella with a book and Case sat under it while he watched the waves from behind his sunglasses.

Dean sat out in the sun on a chair. He had his head tilted back and his feet buried in the sand with a cold beer in his hand. His eyes were closed behind his sunglasses but he was fully awake as he listened to the waves.

He also felt like he was in heaven. He never thought that he would enjoy the beach this much but he was fully relaxed. This was unlike any vacation he had ever taken before because for the first time, he didn’t think about hunting.

Dean hadn’t thought about a monster in the 48 hours it’s been since you all got there and he was completely fine with that.

You made your way up to them and tried hard not to stare at Dean. You had seen him without his shirt a few times but nothing like this. He wasn’t wearing four different layers of shirts and instead was wearing nothing but swim trunks.

No shirt. Just slightly tanned skin and swim trunks that hung off his hip in a tortuous way that made you think some rather dirty thoughts. The image of what was below the hem of those shorts was plastered all over your mind and you quickly had to push them away as you approached them.

Dean perked up when he heard you. He gave you a smile which you returned as you grabbed a cold drink from the cooler. He was grateful for the sunglasses because they hid how his eyes checked you out when you bent over to pull out a water bottle.

Yeah, you looked really hot in a bathing suit.

“I don’t know why I didn’t suggest this sooner.” You hummed after you took a sip of the drink. “You guys seem right at home.”

“I agree.” Dean nodded and you smiled. “Who knew the sounds of the ocean were this relaxing?”

You chuckled and took another sip of your drink as you looked at the ocean. The waves were pretty calm and the water wasn’t too cold which made for perfect swimming conditions.

You had gone swimming earlier this morning and now you were itching to get back into the water. The only problem was that you had a rule about going into the ocean which was to always have someone go with you. It limited the risk of someone getting hurt or drowning and it was always more fun to be in the waves with someone else anyway.

You could ask Jack to go with you. He loved the water as much as you did, but he was busy playing in the sand and you didn’t want to pull him away from that.

A thought crossed your mind and you glanced at Dean. You hadn’t seen any of the Winchesters get in the water and the one that you could try to convince would be him.

Ever since a few days ago in that motel, you were able to convince him to do a lot of things. He was wearing just swim trunks when he had tried to wear a shirt with it, for one reason or another, when you told him that he would probably get too hot. That was all it took to convince him to go half naked.

“You been in the water yet?” You wondered as you set your bottle down in the sand.

“Uh, not yet.” Dean glanced at the waves and felt a pit form in his stomach.

Dean knew how to swim and he’d argue that he was a pretty damn good one, but the ocean was a lot different than a pool or a lake. There were waves, some that looked a little too big for his comfort, and currents that he couldn’t see.

It was much like his anxiety with flying…well a little more manageable than that but it was similar. He wasn’t sure if he would be okay if he went out into the waves and got carried out.

“Well, I feel like going for a swim? Wanna come?” You offered with a kind smile and Dean mentally cursed to himself.

How was he supposed to say no to that smile? To you?

Before he still had trouble saying no but he at least had some control over his brain when it came to certain things. Now that he knew how head over heels, wrapped around your finger, in love he was with you, all of his willpower to say no had been thrown out the window.

It was a little concerning. You weren’t forcing him, if you were he wouldn’t be having any of it, but the fact that it was you who was asking for things or to do things, he was so ready to do it in a heartbeat.

Love was doing weird things to him.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and took a long sip of his beer to calm his nerves. “I think the ocean is for me.”

You were a little disappointed but that was okay. You wanted him to have fun and if not going into the ocean was how that was going to be achieved then so be it. You could always sit in the surf and dig for shells.

“Okay-”

“Let’s go.” Dean stood up and tossed his glasses on the chair.

Your eyebrows knitted together. That was strange and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing. You didn’t have time to say anything as he grabbed your hand to lead you to the water.

Dean didn’t mean to change his mind that quickly but the moment he saw that slight flicker of disappointment in your eyes, he panicked. He wanted this vacation to be perfect since it was your idea and if that meant going into the ocean then he’d get over it.

He might end up liking it if he got past the slight fear of it.

The ocean waves washed over your feet and your hand slipped out of Dean’s. You glanced at him to see that he was looking at the water with a clenched jaw. You gave him a sympathetic smile as he fidgeted with his hands.

“We can hold hands.” You suggested and his eyes widened when he looked at you. “I promise I won’t let go or force you to go very far.”

“I’m not a baby.” He grumbled and scratched the back of neck.

“The ocean is scary, why do you think I asked you to come with me?”

That made his heart swell a little more than it should. He wasn’t really sure why that made him proud but now he felt like he could conquer anything which was definitely not a good thing.

“Alright, show me how it’s done.” He grabbed your hand with a crooked smile that made you laugh.

“Don’t get too cocky, Winchester.” You wrapped your fingers around his hand tightly.

The water felt warm when you both waded out. When the waves would hit, Dean would squeeze your hand to make sure he still had a good hold. He was careful to watch what was in the water and to watch you as you guided him far enough to where the water reached his hips.

You let him get used to the water while you splashed each other occasionally. At some point you had moved up close to Dean, enough to where you both were practically holding each other, as waves hit.

It didn’t take long for Dean to feel comfortable to go further out. He was grateful that you were right there beside him to teach him how to dive through the waves and to keep himself from being pushed under.

He was also grateful that he got to hold your hand after every wave.

He was right. Now that he got over his fear of it, he really did like the ocean. Especially now when he saw you in every wave that hit the beach and knew he would be safe.

Your hand felt right at home in Dean’s. You were honestly surprised that he had reached out to hold hands before you did on your walk on the beach but you definitely weren’t complaining.

This was a lot considering Dean wasn’t really a touchy person. Sure he gave hugs when saying goodbye but holding hands? No, he didn’t really do that…well not until today that is. Something awoke in him when he held your hand earlier today and now all he wanted to was feel your hand in his.

“So, what are we going to do tonight?” You wondered out loud as you looked out at the evening sun.

“You know my answer.” Dean watched the waves before he looked at you with a smirk. “Whatever you want to do.”

“C’mon! This is as much of a vacation for you as it is for me.”

You were flattered that Dean and the others had given you full control of the plans on the vacation, but you felt a little bad about it. The entire idea of having them come along was for them to have fun and there was no way that was really going to be achieved if it was just you calling the shots. You wanted someone else to decide what to do and who better than the one who actually rented the house.

“I’m telling you, I’m fine with whatever you wanna do as long as you're happy.” He chuckled when you gave him a pout.

“Then you choosing what we do tonight will make me happy.” You declared and he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t play me like that.”

You laughed. Even if you were both joking around, you really wanted him to choose this time. You were honestly excited to see what he would say. Dean could come up with some pretty fun ideas if he put his brain to it.

“But seriously, come up with something.” You squeezed his hand and gave him an encouraging smile. “I’m down for anything.”

He had been truthful when he said that whatever would make you happy he’d be happy to do it, but he also had a few ideas. Namely, ideas that were a little more romantic than what friends normally did and he hoped you wouldn’t notice that.

Dean wasn’t sure what he’d do if you found out he loved you. Die probably. He didn’t want to think of the possible outcomes. What if you were disgusted by it or became so creeped out that you left? He would never forgive himself if that happened, he couldn’t lose you.

So the only thing he could do was pretend. Pretend that they weren’t romantic dates and that he didn’t love you with his entire being.

Unfortunately he was blind to the fact that you loved him just as much.

You watched as he scratched the back of his neck in thought. He had a lazy smirk on his face and you tilted your head with an affectionate smile. Sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his head since he rarely spoke about what was exactly on his mind.

This time however, you wanted him to.

“How about we check out the pier?” He gave you a sheepish smile but relief washed over him when you grinned.

“Yeah! They probably got some good food there.” You cheered and he grinned back.

“Then let’s go.” He took the lead and held firmly onto your hand.

He hadn’t even thought about the food and he just realized he was hungry. This would be a good plan as long as he kept his cool and didn’t let his feelings get the better of him.

“Jesus this is amazing.” You exclaimed around a mouthful of ice cream.

“Are you eating or having sex over there?” Dean took a bite of your shared ice cream with a smirk as you lightly punched him in the arm.

“Shut up!”

The two of you stood at the end of the pier with a plastic bowl of ice cream. Your voices carried across the air as there weren’t that many other people. The sun had gotten a little lower in the sky and created a golden glow across the surface of the water that reflected the clear sky.

Dean glanced at you as you stuck the spoon in your mouth to eat the ice cream. In this lighting you looked like a goddess. He always knew you were beautiful and he would fight anyone who disagreed, but lately he found himself being awestruck by you. There was just something about you that captivated him and made him have to take a few moments to take it in.

Even when you had a melted spot of ice cream on the corner of your lips you were beautiful and god did he want to kiss you in that spot now.

“I know we only just got here but thank you.” You said softly as you wiped your mouth and gave him a smile. “This…it means a lot to me.”

“It was nothing.” Dean nonchalantly shrugged but on the inside he was having the time of his life.

He had never felt so proud before until now.

“It is though.” You set the ice cream down and leaned on the railing of the pier. “I know it’s not easy for you to take breaks, so I’m really happy that you’re having fun.”

You were being honest. Even if you had wanted him to come along, you worried that maybe he wouldn’t be able to turn off his hunter instincts. It definitely would be stressful if he was looking out for a potential case instead of enjoying himself and you didn’t want that.

You really wanted him to see that there was a lot more to life than just hunting monsters and you hoped this did the job.

Dean scoffed and looked out at the ocean. You were right about your worries of course and he kinda hated that. Being able to relax like this gave him the time to reflect a lot on himself and he had to agree that taking breaks was like pulling teeth for him.

He wasn’t sure why he struggled with that and he wasn’t ready to unpack those problems just yet. But he had you to thank for even considering working on it.

“It was all you really.” He looked at you with affectionate eyes. “Just don’t expect me to be a beach bum because of this.”

“You’ve already got a tan!” You pointed out and he chuckled.

“I’m just adding onto my sex appeal.”

Dean smiled when you laughed. Now would be a good moment to kiss you or to ask you out on a proper date. It was like a scene out of a movie; the two main leads on the pier having a moment and then they fell in love with just one kiss. It would be perfect and he so desperately wanted to make it happen.

But he couldn’t. Not when you finished off the rest of the ice cream and not when you asked him what he wanted to do next.

‘I want to kiss you’. That’s what he wanted to do but his fear had a tight hold on him.

“Just walk on the beach.” His smile was sad but he tried to make it look normal. “We’ll take it slow going back.”

“Sounds good to me.” You tossed the ice cream bowl in the trash and grabbed his hand without asking.

You were making this so hard for him.

But on your end it was going great. Not only was the ice cream the best you ever had, the beach looked breathtaking and you got to spend it with your favorite person. It just proved your point that Dean could come up with good ideas and that he should do it more often.

You were also a little ecstatic that this was starting to feel like a date. You were sure it wasn’t intentional but you were getting romance vibes that were welcomed with open arms.

The atmosphere definitely helped with that as well.

The waves curled around your feet as you both slowly made your way back to the beach rental. A comfortable silence fell over you two as you listened and watched as the tide left.

Your eyes began to scan the sand. You could see pieces of broken shells scattered on top of it but you were searching for whole shells. It was fun to pick shells especially when you planned to find one for each of the boys because then it became a game.

“So tell me,” You began and he raised an amused eyebrow. “What kind of shells do you like?”

“Shells?” His eyebrows knitted together and he looked at the sand with confusion. “I don’t know…I don’t have any.”

“Well you’re in luck, there’s always shells at the beach!”

You broke away from him and stepped over to a patch of broken shells. There were always good ones hidden within the fragments and if there wasn’t one suited for him there, then the sand closer to the waves had to have one. You bent over to look close as you gently sifted through the pieces with your fingers as you beckoned Dean to join you.

Dean came up beside you and mimicked your movements. He watched you carefully and began to search through the shells too. He wasn’t really sure what he was looking for but if you wanted to do this, he didn’t have any complaints.

There were tiny ones and a few good sized ones he could see. A lot of them were plain and looked to be part of a clam, but they held a sort of wonder to them as he picked them up to look at them. The ones that really caught his interest were the small spiral ones that looked like something may have lived inside.

He held one that was intact in the palm of his hand before he showed it to you.

“What about these?” He wondered, as if there was a right or wrong answer, but you smiled.

“The spiral ones are cool.” You stood up straight and scanned the sand near the waves.

Now that you had type in mind, you were on the hunt. Determination fueled your search and nothing was going to stop you.

Dean watched you with curiosity. He continued to hold the shell in his palm as he stood up with his eyes stuck on you as if you were the most interesting thing in the world. He noted how meticulous you were in combing through the sand and scoffed when he realized you didn’t put that much effort into cases sometimes.

He wondered if you would even need their help if you did. At that thought he hoped that you would never be this thorough with cases ever. He didn’t want to go on a case on your own ever again, not after you being gone for months with little contact.

You watched as your footprints and the small holes disappeared with the waves. It was possible you wouldn’t be able to find a shell that was worthy to give to Dean right now but you’d be damned if you didn’t try. You at least wanted to make sure you wouldn't miss any if there were any.

Just as you were about to give up, you saw a piece of white poking out of the sand. With a smile on your face, you dug your fingers in the wet sand and pulled out a good sized shell.

It had brown stripes on it and it was in pretty good shape with only a few chips in it. It was the perfect shell for Dean.

You hid it behind your back as you made your way back towards him. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you approached him and he looked at you with adoring eyes.

Dean knew you found something. He saw you pick it up but it was cute that you were treating it as if it was a surprise.

You were so goddamn cute.

“Mr. Winchester.” You tried to fake being serious but it wasn’t working. “Would you like a present?”

“Present? What’s the occasion?” He smirked as he leaned in close but was careful not to ruin the ‘surprise’.

“No occasion, just that I think you’re wonderful.”

You presented the shell out for him to see and take. Your heart thumped against your chest as you looked from the shell to him. You knew he would take it but it still made you nervous as he stared down at it with wide eyes.

He wasn’t upset, far from it, he was ecstatic. He was on cloud nine just from the fact that you called him wonderful and you were giving him a seashell that you just spent fifteen minutes to find. You made him feel so good, so full of life that he couldn’t take this anymore.

Dean didn’t care about the consequences right now. He needed you to know how much he loved you and if that meant turning you away so be it. He wouldn’t stop loving you if you left.

“Dean?” You looked at him with concern until he cupped your face with his hands.

Was this really about to happen?

“You make me feel a lot of things that I didn’t know I could feel.” He huffed as he looked you in the eyes. “I don’t know how to tell them to you but I need you to know.”

“Then show me.” You whispered as you leaned a little closer.

Dean closed the gap and the world disappeared.

There were a lot of things in his life that didn’t feel right but this was not one of them. Everything about your lips against his, how soft they were, how you kissed him back just as passionately, to the way you sighed.

He felt a weight lift from his chest. All of those stupid thoughts that kept him from doing this earlier meant nothing anymore. You were kissing him back like he was water in a desert.

You were also relieved. You never would’ve thought that the older Winchester would harbor these feelings for you. It just didn’t seem plausible, but as his lips moved against yours and his hands moved to your hips to pull you closer, you understood everything he couldn’t say.

You never expected him to say it out loud, not now anyway. That just wasn’t how Dean was but you knew it. Deep within your heart you knew that he loved you.

Dean Winchester loved you.

The both of you broke apart. You stared into each other’s eyes as you caught your breath before you both broke out into grins like idiots.

“Don’t know what I was worried about.” He chuckled softly as he kept you close.

“You were worried?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a gentle look. “Why?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me and I want you in my life so…”

He trailed off but you understood. You wanted to make sure that he knew you wanted him in your life and that you weren’t going anywhere. You were going to stay with him for as long as you could, just like you already have.

The only thing that was different was now you could do it while being openly in love.

Dean pressed a kiss to your forehead before he kissed you on the lips. He took his time as he gently bit your lip and explored your mouth with his tongue when you let him. His hands roamed down where he squeezed your ass which caused him to smirk when you gasped.

“You know,” He began as he moved his lips to your neck. “There’s something else we can do tonight.”

“Preferably in a place where sand won’t get stuck?” You smirked before you let out a breathless moan when he left marks on your neck.

Dean chuckled and he leaned back to look at you as he felt his heart swell. He definitely had never felt like this right before sex but god was it welcomed. He smirked as he pulled your body against his.

“Good thing we’re sharing a room.”

Tags: @globetrotter28 @spideysimpossiblegirl

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural imagine #supernatural #dean winchester fluff #dean whinchester #dean winchester imagine

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