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princessmisery666 · 1 year

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I posted 2,889 times in 2022

487 posts created (17%)

2,402 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@princessmisery666

@b3autyfuldisast3r

@cockslutpadalecki

@writercole

@deanwinchesterswitch

I tagged 2,878 of my posts in 2022

#top gun maverick - 499 posts

#supernatural - 451 posts

#sam winchester - 406 posts

#spn - 385 posts

#pm666reads - 347 posts

#dean winchester - 300 posts

#comments reblog - 296 posts

#jake seresin - 273 posts

#hangman - 249 posts

#fluff - 238 posts

Longest Tag: 112 characters

#phoenix would literally walk across the street to a store and get him a snack if their dinner was taking to long

My Top Posts in 2022:

Sundress

Summary: Steve buys you a present, but it’s more for him.

Warnings: smut, dom!Steve, language.

W/C: 663

Rating: E (explicit - 18+)

Characters: Steve Rogers, fem!reader.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

A/N: I saw a post online that said something like, “got a couple of sundresses I want you to fuck me in!” and it inspired this. I created the dress on the title card using canva.

Betas: @cockslut-padalecki // @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: made using canva. Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Master Lists: Main // Steve Rogers //

See the full post

218 notes - Posted April 14, 2022

Under The Radar - Mini Series Master List

Series Summary: Being a navy pilot you expected to have your world turned upside down from time to time. Taking to the skies was the easy part, the lessons you learn on solid ground are the hardest.

Warnings: angst, fluff, soft Jake, jealousy, asshole Jake, break-ups, cheating (reader is the other woman but doesn't know until after), preludes to smut, heartbreak, Rooster is a bit of an ass in parts, fluffy Rooster. Parts 3 & 4 include spoilers for Top Gun: Maverick.

W/C: 19k

Rating: 18+

Characters: Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, fem!reader (You. Call sign: Huntress), a few needed OC's. Mentioned/Small Parts: Lieutenant Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Penny Benjamin, Lieutenant Javy "Coyote" Machado, Captain Phil “Maverick” Mitchell, Hondo, Admiral Simpson,

Pairing: Hangman x Fem!Reader, Rooster x Fem!Reader.

Notes: no descriptions of reader body type or ethnicity. Takes place before Top Gun: Maverick. First time recruits at Top Gun and during the movie. For this to work they were all at the academy together but I know that’s probably not canon.

A/N: I was thirsting over Miles Teller with Sabrina - @sfreeborn - and she asked if I would ever write for him. After seeing Top Gun: Maverick, I really wanted to. My creative juices had been non-existent for weeks, but Sabrina was kind enough to give me a prompt that inspired a fic. The details of that fic (part 3) meant I needed to write another one to explain Reader x Jake’s relationship, and it spiralled.

Super Special A/N: @writercole helped me with ideas for this entire series and contributed a lot of lines/sections when I got stuck so I’m giving her co-author credit.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch //@cockslutpadalecki

Graphics: made on canva.

Series Complete.

See the full post

373 notes - Posted June 26, 2022

The Fall - Part 2 Under The Radar Mini Series

Summary: Jake has proven he’s an asshole; you shouldn’t be surprised when he proves it again at graduation. But at least graduating means you’ll be free of him, or does it?

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, injury described, fluffy Rooster, sex references.

W/C: 3k

Rating: M (mature)

Characters: Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, fem!reader (You. Call sign: Huntress), some needed OC’s.

Pairing: past Hangman x Fem!Reader, Rooster x Fem!Reader, Hangman x OFC.

Notes: no descriptions of reader body type or ethnicity. Takes place before Top Gun: Maverick. First-time recruits at Top Gun.

A/N: I am blown away by the response to part 1, thank you for every like, reblog and comment. I hope this part doesn't disappoint.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch / all mistakes still belong to me.

Graphics: title card made by me Dividers: @writercole

Master Lists: Under The Radar // Main //

See the full post

406 notes - Posted June 28, 2022

Leave 'em Hanging - Part 1 Under The Radar Mini Series

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin never loses. That is until he sets his sights on the one target that might bring him to his knees.

Warnings: angst, fluff, brief soft Jake, jealousy, asshole Jake. My HC is that he’s a softie behind doors, and no one can convince me otherwise.

W/C: 4.3k

Rating: M (mature)

Characters: Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, fem!reader (You. Call sign: Huntress). Mentioned/Small Parts: Lieutenant Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Penny Benjamin, Lieutenant Javy "Coyote" Machado.

Pairing: Hangman x Fem!Reader (call sign: Huntress)

Bingo: @anyfandomfluffbingo Square Filled: writers block.

Notes: no descriptions of reader body type or ethnicity. Takes place before Top Gun: Maverick. First time recruits at Top Gun.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // @cockslutpadalecki

Graphics: gifs @unicornships // title card made by me on canva. @writercole gave me the divider.

Master Lists: Under The Radar // Main

See the full post

701 notes - Posted June 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Please, I cannot stress this enough...

USE A KEEP READING LINE!!

Here I'll show you how...

Using desktop

Start A post

Enter some text/images etc. after 500 words or so.

Hit enter

Click that squiggly looking line thing (see below image)

Using Mobile:

Start a post

Enter some text/images etc. after 500 words or so.

Type :readmore:

Hit enter

The line will be there

Using a keep reading line makes Tumblr more accessible for all of us. I know a lot of people (myself included) won't reblog posts if there isn't a keep reading line as it clogs up everyone's dash. So using one could mean more interaction with your posts.

I promise people will click it 💜

732 notes - Posted July 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

Are we surprised Top Gun Maverick was my most used tag?? 🤷🏼‍♀️

And I most reblogged myself 😂 🤣 not even sorry, gotta love yourself first, right?! ☺️

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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saintsgrrl · 2 years

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dude's coming back to life and dying more times than sam and deanw wjwkwnwj

#elle's hyperfixations.

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scolfy · 3 years

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led zeppelin - no quarter

#scolfygfx #scolfy #dean winchester #deanw #deanedit #spn #spnedit #supernatural #destiel #deancas #destieledit #castiel #castieledit #jensen ackles

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princessmisery666-library · 3 years

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Stay

Summary: Sometimes, people run because they want to be found. Dean runs from his feelings, and when he’s finally ready to face them, maybe it’s too late for the one person he wants to find him.

Warnings: fluff, smut, angst, cheating, alcoholism mentioned, language.

W/C: 3k

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, fem!reader (she/her/you - no body type or ethnicity described.)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader.

Notes: I’m currently obsessed with Stay by The Kid Laroi ft. Justin Bieber - it’s a bop and If I Didn’t Love You by Jason Aldean ft. Carrie Underwood - it’s angsty. I wanted to write something, so here you have it. I’ve used lyrics from both songs.

READ IT NOW: Tumblr // AO3

#DeanWinchester #DeanW #dean winchester angst #DeanWinchesterSmut #Dean Winchester x You #Dean Winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #cheating #smut #fluff #angst

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random-imagines-blog · 3 years

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Imagine forcing Dean into a ‘Slumber Party’.

The outfit alone was hilarious. You had to give Sam props for helping you out with it. He distracted Dean while you snuck into his room and removed all of his clothes except for the old man sleep attire that you picked out and had laying on the bed. The rest of the clothes were hidden in a spot that he would never look - the closet where you kept the cleaning supplies.

When he came out after his shower in head to toe lavender, you couldn’t stop the giggles. He had even put on the hat! It fit snugly around the spiky hair that he was usually so proud of, the pom pom bouncing off of his neck.

Even Sam had started to snort at the sight of his brother’s bow-legged stance as the nightgown came almost to his knees. Dean really didn’t look amused. “What the hell is this? I look like .. Scrooge.” His grumpy expression just seemed to make it all better, especially as the pom pom came back around as he shook his head, bopping him in the chin.

You had tears in your eyes. “And you sound like him too. Oh my god - purple really is your color.”

It was even better that he just went with it. Rolled his eyes and then gave a smile. “Where’s yours then? What are you wearing tonight?” He asked, waiting to see whatever nightgown that you would pull out for yourself. You shrugged and looked down at your sweatpants.

“This is good enough for me. What are you wearing, Sam?”

“The usual.” Sam said, matching your shrug.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered, once he realized he was tricked.

#Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester imagines #Supernatural #Supernatural imagines #nonrequest #imagines #deanw

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tiredwitchh · 4 years

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this is now a Dean W blog

💗

:edit from @faeriebabee on ig

#deanwinchester #deanw #supernatural #supernatural season 1 #destiel #deanxcas #faecore #stars #sparkles #supernatural edits #dean winchester can ruin me anytime #edits #instagram #dean totally isnt wearing sparkly lip gloss #crystals #lovecore #dream daddy #daddy #zaddy af

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sighfrancisco · 6 years

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spn rewatch → s1e14 “nightmare” → sam + visions

↳ “as long as I’m around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you.”

#spn rewatch #spnedit #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #hurt sam #protective dean #kat gifs shit #supernatural #deanw #samw #1.14 #my edits #deano #sammy #i'm not gonna leave you

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deanwanddamons · 3 months

Note

🎶 when you get this, put 5 songs you actually listen to, then publish. Send this ask to 10 of your followers (positivity is cool) 🎶

I have received this ask from 2 others so I’ll answer you all ❤️

1. Bat Out Of Hell - Meatloaf

2. Rock’n’Roll - Led Zeppelin

3. Livin’ On A Prayer - Bon Jovi

4. Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd

5. Love Of My Life - Queen

Thank you for ask sweetie 🩷

#deanw answers #lovely mutuals

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 6 years

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Perfect (Ed Sheeran - Beyonce): A Dean and Cas Story. PART ONE

“I guess he’s here finally,” Sam called out to his brother, hearing the knock on the door, preceded by the doorbell.

Dean huffed, stood up, and marched back to his room. “Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.”

Castiel heard muffled voices inside, as he stood stoically outside the door - well, trying to be stoic and normal - holding his hands in front of himself like a soldier in training. He cleared his throat, knowing the brothers inside were probably saying something about him. If he were still an angel, he might’ve been able to know what they’d been talking about, with his ‘Bugs-Bunny’ ears as Dean called them one day. Well, if he were an angel, he would’ve flown into the Bunker library, instead of taking the subway and then walking the half mile up to the Bunker. But, Castiel pushed those depressing thoughts out of his mind, before they could spoil his mood - that happened surprisingly quickly, now that he was a human - and smiled. It was not that hard to smile either; he’d found himself smiling a lot more now, at the smallest of matters. And Dean, and thoughts of Dean, had never failed to make him smile, even before he fell.

It was their first outing together, as a couple. Castiel had asked Dean out on a date - well, technically, it had been Gabriel putting words in his mouth, literally, but he’d meant it completely - and Dean had agreed as quick as lightening. Castiel had been surprised; he’d been expecting an awkward negative answer, but had still mustered up the courage and asked Gabriel for help. And then Dean had said yes, as simple as that, and hugged Castiel for added measures, and Castiel had been in the best mood since the Apocalypse, all week.

He was planning to take Dean to a diner he knew Dean would like - it had burgers and pies and beer, and Castiel knew what Dean liked - and although he secretly had imagined taking Dean to an expensive French restaurant, or something that pretty, he knew he couldn’t afford it, and didn’t want to have to ask the brothers for their fake credit cards again. Gabriel, being Gabriel, had offered to conjure up the perfect date settings, whatever Castiel wanted, a whole island to themselves, a ball where they were the only ones invited, perhaps even 50 dates in a single night, like the movie Castiel had really liked. But Castiel had refused. He knew Dean wouldn’t mind having dinner in a small hole-in-the-wall diner, as long as there was good unhealthy food, and senseless music Dean could sing along t-

“Hey, Cas-” Sam opened the door, but stood with his mouth open, staring unblinkingly at Castiel in disbelief. “Dude, what are you wearing?”

Castiel shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. He managed a smile. “A tuxedo.” He pronounced, wiping his sweaty hands on the sides of his pants and blinking disconcertedly. “Why?” He might’ve denied Gabriel from helping him out with planning the date, but Gabriel had forced Castiel to allow him to set up an outfit. And Castiel had given in, and Gabriel had whisked them off to some 'Armani’s, NYC’, where people had been extremely well-mannered, and had set him up with what he was wearing. 'A double-breasted Italian-style tuxedo, primarily enamel black, with elegant grey satin lapels and a perfect bow’, Gabriel had announced when Castiel had walked out of the dressing room, and had added a, 'You look awesome, li'l bro’, after taking a good look at the suit which gave his shoulders more definition, shirt which pronounced his lean chiselled chest, and pants which fitted him like second skin. “Is this not what I am supposed to wear, Sam?” Castiel added, concernedly.

“Not unless you’re the one walking down the aisle.” Sam sighed, and moved to a side, allowing Castiel to enter. He walked in behind him, noticing how impassively Castiel walked. “Who put you up to this?”

“Gabriel.” The one-word answer was enough for Sam.

Sam shook his head. “This doesn’t look like it’s from the tailor round the corner. I should’ve guessed Gabriel was behind it.” Sam smiled a bit, still straining to not burst out laughing at just how ready-to-be-married Castiel looked, and how a small disappointed frown had worked it’s way on his lips. “Paris?” He guessed.

“Armani’s, NYC.” Castiel replied, smally. “Is Dean not going to like it?”

Sam’s eyes widened, and a reassuring smile instantly appeared. “Oh, of course he is! He’s gonna love it, Cas! It’s just that, it’s not very 'Castiel’ as Dean knows you,” Sam tried to coax his best friend into looking like the nervous and flustered but excited little kid he’d looked like before, and not like the dejected man, with the insufferable what-will-Dean-think scowl. “And you’ve gotta admit, it’s not very 'Steve from Gas 'n Sip’ either. But I can tell that he’s gonna love your new look.”

Castiel looked up at Sam. “Where’s he? Where is Dean?”

Sam grinned. “He’ll be with you in a minute. He was waiting for you here, but when you knocked, he bounded up to his room like some kind of a shy fifteen-year-old going on a first date with his crush and told me to tell you that he’ll be out in a minute.” Sam furrowed his brow. “That’s pretty much true actually, except he’s double that age.” He lowered his voice and added, with a chuckle, “Don’t tell him I told you his real age, I’m kinda overstepping limits here.”

Castiel smiled, feeling more comfortable now. “Well, comparing it to the several aeons I’ve lived, it’s not much at all.”

“He’s not here, you 'can’ talk crap about him.” Sam whispered back.

“But I don’t want to.” Castiel tilted his head to the left slightly, blinking, almost confused at the mention of 'crap about Dean’.

Sam sighed. He loved his brother a lot, and admired his skills and everything about him, but he knew Castiel was almost devoted to Dean in a way he’d never be - Brothers aren’t supposed to speak aloud that they think the other is perfect, even if that’s true - and that it was useless to even crack such jokes around him. “Forget about it.” He waved his hand in air dismissively. “Oh, hey, I forgot to mention, Dean’s likely to have his panties in a knot, so beware.”

Castiel scowled again. “You mean,” he paused and considered it. “He might be cranky.”

“Even more so than usual.” Sam shrugged. “You see, you’re about,” Sam glanced at the huge clock on the wall. “About forty minutes late. In 'Dean’ language, you stood him up.” Sam hastened to explain at Castiel’s confused face. “That means, you ditched him on the date, you know, didn’t show up.”

“I would never do that.” Castiel’s eyes widened, the blue in them sparkling, almost agitatedly. “I was not aware that I was late! I am,” Castiel looked at his feet, almost embarrassed. “I am not really accustomed to taking the subway,” he pronounced the word like it was alien to him. “And I never realised I got late.”

“In your defense, you don’t have a watch.” Sam scrunched his nose. “So don’t worry,” Sam reassured him again. “Dean is not gonna be the infamous 'angry’ Dean, he’s just gonna be mildly angry. So you keep giving him those puppy eyes, hug him once or twice, and you’ll be good.”

Castiel nodded, considering Sam’s words seriously. “Thank you, Sam.”

Suddenly, Dean came walking out, dressed in his favourite red plaid shirt over a black T-shirt and regular jeans, the only difference in his appearance being the huge smile which was plastered all over his face, which was a pretty unusual occurrence for Dean nowadays. He stopped mid-track, entering the library, as his eyes fell on Castiel, an almost bewildered expression on his face.

Castiel was not aware that he was turning pinker by the second, only realising, surprisingly that his cheeks were warm, and that he felt strangely weird, almost feeling Dean’s eyes go all over him. When he finally looked up from the ground, he discovered that Sam had left the room already, and Dean was still fixed where he was standing.

Remembering what Sam had said, he began walking towards Dean, judging Dean’s stillness to be a show of his anger rather than something else. “Hello, Dean.” He spoke, with a smile, walking closer to his favourite person on Earth, and engulfing him in a hug. The feelings which were much more balanced and calculated when he was an angel, and which came much more by force, and passionately, now that he was a human, flooded him.

Wrapping his hand around Dean, he buried his chin as he always did on Dean’s shoulder, and smiled even more feeling Dean slowly hug him back. The familiar scent of Dean almost overpowered his senses as they withhold the hug for a moment - Castiel had always loved hugging Dean, it was one of the most genuine displays of affection to him - and then pulled back, Castiel still smiling broadly, at the man whom he thought to be the most beautiful man ever, whom he loved and had no qualms in admitting thus for, and Dean replying with a similar look.

I found a Love, for me,

Darling just dive right in,

Follow my lead.

“Dean,” Castiel spoke gently, as if not wanting to break the fragile feeling of love which still lingered in the atmosphere. “I apologize that I am late.”

Dean grinned, one of his infectious, casual grins which lit up his face. “Let me guess,” He spoke in his usual deep voice, “You got lost?” He tried.

“No, I didn’t, Dean.” Castiel pursed his lips, still speaking softly, and slowly, as he looked affectionately at Dean, at every aspect of him, partly to check if he was alright, partly because Dean was extremely beautiful to Castiel, and he loved watching him. “I know my way to your house very well.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. You’re here.” It was almost as if a single hug had won Dean over. Then, once again, as if snapping out of a reverie into which the physical contact with Castiel had put him into, the slightly amused and slightly bewildered look returned. “Wait a second, why are you dressed in a tux like that, Cas?”

Castiel sighed. “I was not aware this is not first date attire, Dean.” He confessed, ducking his head shyly, and a smile sprouting on Dean’s lips at the adorable display of shyness. “I now do, Sam told me, and I’m sorry for 'showing up in this’.”

“Don’t be sorry, dude,” Dean smiled. “You don’t look bad! I mean, it’s more of a wear if you’re at your own wedding, but…” Dean’s voice trailed off, as he added in almost a whisper. “You look amazing in it, Cas.”

Castiel smiled yet again. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Where did you get it?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. Castiel smiled inwardly, as he rightly guessed that Dean was only asking because he was the one Castiel did all shopping with, and Dean certainly didn’t buy him a suit like that.

“Gabriel took me to Armani, New York City.” Castiel admitted truthfully.

“NYC?” Dean feigned anger. “So, you kept me waiting here while you were out shopping for wedding tuxes in the big City of Dreams, huh?”

“I am sorry, Dean, I had no idea I was late, and that you were waiting for me.” Castiel looked down at his feet again.

He felt Dean’s hands on his biceps, squeezing them to make Castiel grin. “It’s not that big a deal with you. You’re worth it.”

Well, I found a Love, beautiful and sweet,

I never knew you were the someone,

Waiting for me.

Castiel smiled, even broader, as he stared into Dean’s apple-green eyes, admiring just how gorgeous they were, and how beautiful his face looked, when he smiled directly at Castiel. He had been in the middle of his reverie, when, Dean broke the silence.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Dean grinned, clearly having noticed how Castiel’s eyes bore into Dean. “Last time someone - hell, who am I kidding - last time 'you’ looked at me like that, I got laid.” Dean winked.

Castiel furrowed his brow and frowned, displeased at the snide mention of the past. It still disturbed him. He’d still been an angel when it had happened; an unfeeling angel. It was supposedly their last night on Earth, and they’d spent it…well, having sex with each other. Back then too, Castiel had found Dean beautiful and his soul unusually bright, but he had not yet been in love with the hunter. Maybe he had, he himself didn’t know for sure, all he knew was that it had been dreadful. A mistake, as Dean put it the following morning. It had been one of the first times, Castiel had felt something deep, something profound in his heart. But he’d not acted on it. Neither had Dean.

Soon after, Dean had had the whole thing with Lisa, and Castiel had had April, and then Dean had had an asston of more meaningless girls and saving the World, and Castiel had been too busy trying not to fuck up the World (and fucking it up unintentionally in his own noble ways). They’d not worked on the spark, and given up. And Castiel hated being reminded of it, now that he was so sure that he was in love with Dean Winchester.

Frankly, to Castiel at the moment, it didn’t even matter if Dean knew that Castiel was not just asking him out, but that he was completely and unequivocally in love with him, let alone if Dean loved him back. What mattered was that he loved Dean, and that was the end of it. At least this time, he knew it.

So, obviously, a sarcastic mention of the past irked him up. Unintentionally intensifying the look, he frowned. “Dean, I’ve told you before that I do not want to talk about that.” He shyly looked down at his feet. “You know that I am still per-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean shook his head dismissively. “I’m sorry, okay? If it makes you feel better, I do not mind you looking at me that way.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, a hesitant smile forming on his lips easily. It was too easy to feel…good when he was with Dean. To feel comfortable, to feel at home. He didn’t remember the last time he��d felt this way around someone. “Dean.” He merely gave for a reply.

“Uh-uh?” Dean smiled even broader, the smile making his green eyes sparkle. “Yeah, Cas?”

Castiel breathed out slowly, finding himself lost in those beautiful eyes as he stared into them. He could no longer look inside him when he did it, but he liked to feel as if he did, and saw all the brightness which Dean was. “Even if something like that were to happen again,” Castiel couldn’t believe he was actually blurting out stuff like that. “It would not be followed by what happened the last time.”

“Yeah, this time, you’ll make me pancakes in the morning.” Dean chuckled, his eyes showing that he understood what Castiel had been trying to convey; words, otherwise.

“I do not know how to make pancakes, Dean.” Castiel replied, sincerely.

“Well, then, I’ll have to be the one making pancakes and you can be the one lying naked on the bed, exhausted after our morning quickie, as I feed them to you.” Dean blinked, his eyes wide with false innocence. He could’ve been reciting verses from the Bible, by just how sincere he looked.

Castiel blushed a deep red. “I meant that this time it’ll be more stable, more definite.” He clarified, clearing his throat. “That we will do our profound bond justice, and not rush into, well…”

“Bed?” Dean offered.

“Yes.”

“Well, I feel you. Let’s just take it slow this time,” Dean put another arm on Castiel’s shoulder. “I know we’ll be good. You’re not getting away from me this time, and I’m not gonna be pushing you away either.”

'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love,

Not knowing what it was,

I will not give you up this time.

“Good.” Castiel nodded his head a bit, and they stood in solemn silence for a while. It resembled the kind of silence which followed an oath, rather than one preceding a storm, and Castiel smiled, knowing the silence was because it was the huge matter which they’d brushed aside, and took decisions on. “I would like that.”

“And you know what I would’ve liked?” Dean broke into another one of his beautifully effortless smiles, like a stroke of paint on Picasso’s canvas. Castiel prompted him to answer his own question with an uptilt of his head. “To surprise you by taking you to minigolf after dinner. But 'no!’” Dean squinted as he dramatically rolled his eyes and crooked his lips in an exaggerated scowl. “Somebody was too busy tux-shopping to be here on time!?”

Castiel knew Dean wasn’t really angry any longer; he was no longer an Angel but he would still have felt it radiate from Dean. So, he gave his head a curious tilt. “I do not know what minigolf is, Dean.” He spoke, blinking.

Dean almost broke into a smile, but stopped himself in time, because a smile like the one Dean reserved for the angel would’ve depicted anything but anger. “Well, honey, you’d know if you’d come here in time to keep my reservations!” He spoke in a high falsetto.

Castiel smiled smally. “You mean, after dinner at the diner, you were going to take me golfing.”

“Ugh, wrong!” Dean shook his head, an almost proud look seeping into his demeanor. “After 'snacks’ at the diner, I was gonna take you 'mini’ golfing,” Dean corrected, and Castiel dimpled. “And then we’d have dinner at J. Wilson’s, and drinks at Genovese, before returning to your new place.” Dean almost blushed, at how closely Castiel was peering into him, almost as if trying to confirm if Dean was being sincere or sarcastic. “Where we could pro'lly talk and just chill, or watch '50 First Dates’ or some sappy chickflick like that…whatever you want.”

“Wow, Dean.” Castiel praised. “You clearly planned it very well.”

Dean almost tossed his head at the praise, the red in his cheeks subsided. “I couldn’t very well let you have the privilege of completely getting to organise our first date, could I?”

Castiel almost shied away at the adoration with which Dean said 'our first date’. “I’m so sorry for turning up late.” He breathed tentatively. “Can we at least do some of the things you listed?”

Dean rolled his eyes, and shook his head. “You don’t start driving from the third gear.” Castiel caught the drift of it, thankfully. “We’re already late for minigolf and dinner. That plan is totally checked off for tonight.”

Castiel felt Dean’s face fall, just as it’d lit up when he’d been talking about all that he’d planned they’d do. He felt a human emotion surge through him, one he hadn’t felt much before - except perhaps the once or twice when the World seemed to be definitely ending, or the brothers’ life was in danger - panic. He needed to make things alright. Somehow, he needed to save the date. Taking Dean out to the diner, which obviously didn’t need reservations and they could go to anytime, would be something of a anticlimax after all what Dean had listed. And plus, Castiel wanted - needed - that smile to return. It had been so amazing seeing his face literally brighten, as his beautiful eyes sparkled in the coloured lights, his freckles almost made him even more handsome, sprinkled along the bridge of his nose and cheeks, his perfect bow-like lips as beautifully pink as ever, and drawn upwards from the sides to show his teeth, his face a picture to draw indeed as he basked in Castiel’s praise and his own delight, laid-back, reassured, and truly, truly, happy. He needed that smile back. And fast. His mind whirred up, his brain conjuring up every memory to somehow think up some good date, something which Dean would enjoy, not bothering if it would be cliche. Suddenly, he got an idea.

“Dean!” Castiel spoke enthusiastically. “What if we were to continue our date here?”

“Uh,” Dean furrowed his brow. “Whad'dya mean?”

“I mean,” Castiel was excited. “We could spend the rest of the night here itself. And we would have lots of fun!”

“Doing what?” Dean furrowed his brow, slightly pessimistic. “Cleaning guns? Target practise?”

“Whatever you want,” Castiel once again misunderstood Dean’s sarcasm. “But I have something in mind to start things with.” He took in a deep breath, understanding what he was going to propose was going to seem weird at the least, but he knew from having watched countless movies and shows with Dean, and Sam, (separately, because the two would never have each other know they watch that kind of movies), that it was an incredibly romantic gesture. “Dean, do you have any records?”

Dean’s lips twisted in a crooked smile. “You mean, CDs?”

Castiel nodded dismissively. “Yes, CDs. Do you have any good songs?”

Dean began walking towards a wooden cabinet and shoved it open to reveal tons of colorful CDs. “The best.” He declared, his eyes streaming through the labels.

Castiel took in a breath. “Do you have any of the kind to which people dance?” He volunteered, and Dean understandingly twirled around on his heel and looked at Castiel with a weird look on his face. Castiel managed to not shy away under his unconscious-smolder. “Something…” Castiel thought about it. “Slow and romantic.”

Dean turned again, but Castiel could see his muscles tense, even beneath the layers as he picked out a couple of CDs. “These might work.” He said, walking back to Castiel and handing them to Castiel, quickly adding, “They’re Sam’s, so I can’t guarantee perfect quality like I can about my stuff.” Too quickly.

Castiel resisted from adding that he knew Dean well enough to tell when he was telling a lie like that, and browsed through the records in his hand. His own courage astonished him as he handed Dean 'Amazed’ and breathed out a, “This one.”

Dean turned again, wordlessly, and put it into the player. He pressed a couple of buttons on the remote, and the song begun. Castiel drew up all of his courage, and it could’ve been his true desire to do it somewhere deep inside, that he walked up to Dean, as casually as he could, and held out his right hand.

Dean’s eyes widened again, although it was kind of anticipated. “Cas?” He smiled a little, as if amazed at the gesture.

“Dean.” Castiel replied, and added an unnecessary, “Will you Dance with me?”, as Dean had already taken his hand with his left and was beginning to tighten his fingers around the grip. Castiel smiled like he’d never smiled before. “Thank you.”

“You’re awesome, Cas.” Dean merely muttered, taking the lead now, and putting a hand half-around Castiel’s middle, and deftly changing their held-hands-grip to an entwined-fingers-grip, like the one partners doing the slow dance have. Castiel, almost immediately and unthinkingly, wrapped his own arm around Dean’s waist, his hand settling at the small of his back, and pleasantly holding Dean in that manner.

They stood for an awkward moment, just quietly, as if rejoicing the progress, before, Castiel regained the lead, and began tapping his foot to the beat. “I do not know how to dance.” He admitted, after a minute, after they’d begun to sway with the music, their eyes not leaving each other’s eyes.

“Aren’t you the one who…” Dean’s voice trailed off. “'Initiated’ this though?”

“That’s just because-”

He was cut off by Dean. “Forget about it. I’m glad you did anyways.” He smiled broader. “And don’t worry. I’ll lead, you follow.” They were full-fledged moving from one side to the other now, arms warmly around each others tightening, and growing more comfortable with easy beat.

“Is this it?” Castiel asked, after the song had finished and begun to play once more, and Dean and he had been doing the same step all through, taking a step forward, then following with the other and then doing the same thing to the back, and then to the left, and then to the right.

“No, there’s a lot more.” Dean grinned, almost wolfishly. He unexpectedly moved away from Castiel, tapped his foot thrice, and returned to their original position with his hand around a surprised Castiel. “That’s one. Then there’s this,” he proceeded to demonstrate another step, before again returning to Castiel. “There’s more too.” He winked once, before suddenly dipping Castiel to the back, fastening both his hands like a belt behind Castiel. Castiel returned to his original position, his expression bewildered, and a bit scared. “That’s one of my favorite.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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comiiical · 1 year

Text

Dean has a uniform kink. Thats why he loves dressing up and roleplaying.

#care to join? 🏳️‍🌈 bedcanon #→ deanw

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nyesysouza · 4 years

Photo

📸🌹 #fotografia #deanw #lider #photography #photooftheday #photo #foto #fotografa #sky #lov#summer #flores #natureza #natura #nature #passion https://www.instagram.com/p/CDrji8XF7oc/?igshid=1vgrvm0qarcqj

#fotografia #deanw #lider #photography #photooftheday #photo #foto #fotografa #sky #lov #summer #flores #natureza #natura #nature #passion

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princessmisery666 · 3 years

Text

Stay

Summary: Sometimes, people run because they want to be found. Dean runs from his feelings, and when he's finally ready to face them, maybe it's too late for the one person he wants to find him.

Warnings: fluff, smut, angst, cheating, alcoholism mentioned, language.

W/C: 3k

Bingo: @anyfandomgoesbingo Square Filled: Stay by The Kid Laroi ft. Justin Bieber

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, fem!reader (she/her/you - no body type or ethnicity described.)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // @cockslut-padalecki // all mistakes belong to me.

Gif: found on tenor. Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Master Lists: Main // AFG Bingo - round 2

You watch from your table as Dean gives the barmaid that charming make-all-the-panties-wet smile. Her hand lingers on his as she passes the beers over the counter, and you remind yourself murder is illegal. Well, only if you get caught.

He makes his way through the tables, and you notice all the eyes that follow him and the pangs of disappointment when he sits beside you. It’s nice to be the envy of others, it’s a good ego boost, but they have no idea how frustrating your relationship with Dean really is. This isn’t a date. Okay, it’s just the two of you, in a bar watching a cover band of one of your favorites, that Dean found a flyer for and asked if you wanted to go. The night will end with an orgasm or three and Dean praising what a good little cock slut you are. So okay, maybe, technically, it could be pigeonholed as a ‘date’. It’s more than two friends hanging out but less than a romantic relationship.

There’s a table of women to your left, and all five of them eye fuck Dean as he passes them before he sits down beside you. They lean in and whisper to one another. So obviously gossiping about the two of you and embarrassedly avert their eyes when you look over.

If this were a date, you’d have kissed him to prove a point that the bowlegged adonis would be doing more than eye-fucking you later - whatever - you’re not above being petty. But it’s not a date; public displays of affection, or rather marking your territory, are prohibited.

“You okay?” Dean asks, and you uncrumple your brow and fix your scowl to a polite smile as you swig your beer.

You swallow down the fizz and take a deep breath, “uh-huh.”

“Sure?” he questions, scanning your face, “cause you’ve got murder face.”

You scoff at the implication and hope he doesn’t register the guilt. “Murder face?”

“Yeah, murder face. You get this look when you’re really pissed off. Your eyes narrow to almost slits.” He does his best impression, and you wonder how he can see beyond his long lustrous lashes. How is it fair that a man gets lashes like that? “Your nostrils flare, and you zero in on whatever it is that you wanna kill,” he concludes. You feel your eyes narrow, and he’s quick to point a finger. “Just like that! So come on, what did I do?”

“Nothing.”

“Really?” he says, disbelief written all over his freckled face. “Cause you’ve been distant the last few days. You rushed off to your own room so fast, after we,” he checks over his shoulder and lowers his voice a little, “had sex the other night. I thought I’d done something wrong. You’ve avoided me since, and I half thought you were gonna cancel on me tonight and now... murder face.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“Oh, it’s a thing! If it’s a slow day, me and Sam take bets on who can say or do something to make murder face happen. I always win.” He shrugs, but his smile is proud. “I know how to push your buttons.”

“Ever stop to wonder if you can push them too far?”

“We’re not stupid, Y/N,” he rolls his eyes dramatically, “we only do it when we know you’re not armed!”

You laugh, and Dean’s smile melts from jesting to genuine. He copies you taking a pull on your drink, and you look toward the stage, feeling a little too seen under his gaze.

“So come on,” he coaxes, “you changed the subject. What’s going on?”

You turn to look at him again, and the concern he has for you is abundantly clear in his eyes. He dislikes thinking he’s upset you; that much is clear, and he hasn’t, so to let him believe so seems cruel.

“I’ve been thinking,” you start, and he immediately clams up. His back straightens, and he’s the one to avoid eye contact and face forward. “I want more than casual sex, Dean. I want a real relationship; affection, comfort, and passion, not just the good but all the bad stuff that goes along with it. I know that’s not what we have, and that was never on the table with us, and I was fine with that; I used you as much as you used me.” You pause your rant when he turns a scorching glare in your direction. Now he has murder face.

It’s impossible to read his emotions properly; is he upset? Angry? Annoyed that you’ve essentially fucked up a good thing? The sex is incredible; there’s no denying that.

Cautiously, you continue, “Lately, things seem different, spending the night in your bed after we’ve fucked, hanging out more outside of the bedroom, cuddling up in the Dean cave, I don’t know...I’m probably reading too much into nothing, but I feel like we’re a diluted version of what I want, and it’s starting to get to me.”

Eyes trained straight ahead, he takes small sips of his beer. A heartbeat of silence passes. Two. Three. His expression hasn’t changed, scolding glare burning a hole in the wall on the opposite side of the bar. The night is ruined, it’s probably best to leave, and it’s on the tip of your tongue to suggest that you go home, but finally, he speaks.

“I know I’m not the chick-flick moment kind of guy, and we’ve never really labeled what we were doing or are, whatever,” he finds the courage and looks at you, a bashful smile reaching his eyes, “but I haven’t been with anyone else since we first slept together, and I don’t want to. Honestly, I always thought we were more than using each other.”

Confusion deprives you of words momentarily, taking in what he’s said. You had been reading too much into nothing. You’d read too much into the casual side and not realized the dates that weren’t dates were, in fact, actual dates. Dumbly you ask, “So what’re you saying?”

“I’m saying you deserve everything you said you want and...” he shrugs while he pauses. Always with that self-deprecating nonchalant shrug to try and pretend he doesn’t really care, but the truth is in his tone. The slight shake of fear that you might reject him. “This thing between us, it’s good, and it just works, and I want it to be more than casual if you do?”

You smile so wide you worry it’s going to split your lips, and you kiss him so hard he grumbles against your mouth. He puts a hand on your cheek and takes control, making you slow down. The crowd claps and cheers, and a moment later, the band starts playing.

A few weeks later…

Chest to chest, Dean feels the fast thump of her heartbeat, and the stickiness of their sweat is like glue holding them together. He thrusts his hips in slow rotating motions, and he pushes on the spot deep inside that makes her breath hitch with every hit.

Missionary used to bore him. He liked to see her on her face, ass in the air, flesh wobbling and rippling every time he pounded into her, praising the good, dirty little slut that she was for him. He still liked that, but once they’d agreed that their friends with benefits had grown to something more, and they owed it to themselves to see where it would lead, this is his favorite position. It’s the best way to see her reactions and be able to kiss the breath back into her.

“Shit, Y/N,” Dean groans, “you feel…fuck, you feel incredible.”

She wraps her legs around his waist, and he slips impossibly deeper. “Oh god, Dean.”

He kisses her, each sweep of her tongue a piece of kindling thrown onto the fire raging inside of him. He’d thought it was the decadent scorching of his building climax, but something else flutters in his gut, his chest aches in an unfamiliar way, and the slow and sensual kiss was so much more. So fucking chick-flick cliche, but it’s so intensely exhilarating, he can’t stop the electrifying epiphany clouding his mind.

Dean pulls back, gazing into her eyes, and a sense of calmness flows through him so unexpectedly, and refreshing oxygen rushes from his lungs in a shuddering confession; “I love you.”

She sobers for a split second, shock smoothing her features before she gasps; “Oh…” Her face contorts, brow creased, bottom lip caught between her teeth while her walls clench so tightly around his cock he’s momentarily her hostage.

The pulsing of her climax is so strong, and the absolute need to find his end is the only thing he can focus on. He finds his rhythm once again and fucks into her, releasing himself what feels so deep inside her he wonders if she can taste it.

Caged beneath him, she pants in between gentle, lazy kisses planted on his neck, jaw, cheek, the corner of his mouth. Completely spent, he buries his head in her throat.

“Dean,” she coaxes.

He hums a noncommittal acknowledgment but doesn’t otherwise move. She runs her fingernails up and down his back, which feels more condescending than soothing.

“Baby,” she says, a request this time.

He lifts up quickly, palms laid flat on either side of her head. “I need to hydrate.” He pecks her lips abruptly and rushes to his feet.

“Dean,” she tries again, but he ignores her, grabs his robe on his way out of the room.

“I can’t just sit here, Sam,” you say, pacing the width of the library. “I need to do something. What if something happened to him? What if he’s wrapped Baby around a tree, and he’s lying in a ditch somewhere? It’s been ten hours!”

“We’ve called the hospitals. There’s no one matching his description, and there are no reports of road accidents.” Sam sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. The hope of a logical, non-life-threatening explanation is slowly waning, and you see it in the drop of his shoulders.

“I’m gonna go into town, check the bar, see if anyone saw him last night,” you decide, needing the comfort of action. Waiting has never been your strong suit.

“Okay, yeah,” Sam readily agrees, “I’ll stay here in case he comes back.”

You place a hand on his shoulder, but you aren’t sure it’s as reassuring as you hope it to be. Sam looks up at you, a heart-wrenching expression of sorrow in his kaleidoscope eyes. With Dean absent, you have to be the strong one for Sam. Though you feel it too, the fear of what you might find, nevertheless you assure him. “He’s fine, I’m sure of it. He’s just freaked out. You know feelings scare him more than anything in this world.”

Sam gives you a rueful smile, “yeah, I know. He’s Dean, he’s fine, he’s just sleeping it off in a parking lot somewhere.”

You nod, gut twisting in knots, hoping that’s all it is and not Dean falling into old habits of staunching emotions with burning liquor and easy women. “I’ll call you if I find anything, and you let me know if he shows up.”

“Y/N,” Sam calls as you open the door to the corridor about to head to the garage. “Go easy on him. Remember, sometimes people run because they want someone to find them, y’know?”

“I’ll find him.”

Sam’s phone rings just as the door shuts behind you, and in your rush to yank it open again, you end up kicking it closed. You fumble for a frustratingly long second hearing Sam ask Dean if he’s okay before you manage to get back to the library.

“Where are you?” Sam asks as you reach his side.

You try to hear Dean’s answer, but you pant for breath from your rush, and you can only hear Sam.

He stands taller, lips pursed; he’s not happy with whatever Dean has told him. “You should come home...okay, whatever, call me if you need anything.” He ends the call without saying goodbye, but you assume Dean initiated the end of the conversation.

Sam drops the phone onto the table, and he chews the inside of his cheek. “He’s fine, but he said he’s gonna take a few days.”

“Take a few days for what?”

“I don’t know. He just said he was taking a few days. He’ll be home when he’s home.”

You stand motionless, at a loss of what to do now. There’s no action to take. Dean doesn’t want to be found.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sam says, and his hand on your shoulder isn’t reassuring either. It’s pitiful and bleak. “He just needs to do what he does. He’ll come around.”

Three days later, and you are pretty sure that just one more vivid fucked up scenario of Dean screwing the women from whatever bar he’s in that night will make you completely insane, and Sam will have to check you into somewhere with padded walls.

Sam assures you that Dean has checked in, and you try not to let it chafe that Dean is ignoring your calls and messages but answers Sam’s immediately. The temptation to call him from Sam’s phone is like an elephant sitting on your chest, the weight of the knowledge that it would be wrong to put Sam in that position slowly crushing you.

There are no surfaces left to clean, no more movies to escape into, no food that can entice your nonexistent appetite, and your throat is so sore from crying you can’t anymore.

You drag yourself out of your bed and dress in yesterday’s clothes, cause fuck it, who is there to impress with your upstanding hygiene habits? Sam is too polite to remark on it, and Dean isn’t around to be bothered by it, so fuck it!

Rich coffee, cinnamon, and pancakes waft down the hall when you leave the room. Bless Sam’s heart; he’s trying his best. You decide to make an effort and eat whatever he puts in front of you, regardless of how much it will stick in your raw throat. Sam is worried about Dean, too; he needs a distraction.

Sam’s talking as you get closer, “I binged it again, but I was still disappointed.”

You chuckle, ready to remind him yet again he has to get over the Game Of Thrones ending. But Dean beats you to it.

“Dude, you gotta get over it!” he says with a small laugh, and his voice is too clear and present to be on loudspeaker.

He looks shocked when you walk in, and you wonder what’s so shocking? You weren’t the one who ran off. You’ve been there the whole time. Did he expect you to have left? Does he want you to leave?

Sam announces he will be somewhere else, and he takes his plate and coffee with him as he squeezes past your frozen form in the doorway. Dean goes back to flipping pancakes and pushes the button on the coffee machine. His hair is damp, a few droplets darkening the shoulders of his clean Henley, so you know he’s been home long enough to have showered. The fact he didn’t immediately come to talk to you makes your stomach roll, and you swallow down a gag before it can completely form.

“Did the shower work?” you ask and stumble a few more steps into the room.

“Yeah, why has it been broken?” he asks, not turning to look at you, “It worked fine.”

“No, did it work to wash away whatever you were trying to wash away?”

He doesn’t answer, but his head hangs a little lower. He pours a mug of coffee, adds sugar and cream, and he stirs for longer than necessary.

“Just show me,” you sigh.

He’s as still as stone for a time. The silence is too much. It’s quiet energy, like a bomb fuse slowly burning, the inevitable explosion bursting out of you in a fit of rage.

“Show me!” you shout.

He throws the spoon into the sink with a loud clatter and spins to face you, tugging the collar of his Henley down to show the collateral damage of his implosion. A hickey above his tattoo, and there’s another to the right of it that’s not as fresh. You’d wager a day older. The silence is broken, the damage has been done, and now it’s time to wade through the fractured debris of your heart to find if the splintered pieces can be repaired.

“I told you I'd change,” he says, expressionless, monotone, as if he’d rather be anywhere else. “Even when I knew, deep down, that I probably never could. I don’t know what you expected? We both knew going into this I was gonna screw up somehow. I’m not built for commitment and…I was constantly afraid I was gonna fuck it up, and here we are.”

“Oh, save me the sermon!” you implore, dropping to a seat at the table before your legs give out.

Dean brings your coffee to the table, setting it down next to your hand, and you look up at him as he stares down at you.

His eyes are glassy, and you think he’s probably still drunk. Dean’s relationship with alcohol has always been rocky. You hate the man it makes him, but ultimately he has no one to blame but himself. No one forces him to drink, no one but his own hand tips the glass to his lips, no one else swallows the burning nectar and then asks for more; consequences be damned.

“So that’s it?” you ask, your own eyes glassy for different reasons. “You tell me you love me, and then you just give up?”

He shrugs one shoulder, and it’s painful to see the absolute defiance that he doesn’t care in his concrete expression. “You didn’t say it back,” he accuses.

“You didn’t give me a chance to!”

“That’s still not an answer!” There’s a flash of anger and heartbreak; it’s brief, but it’s there, and you hate that hope flutters in your stomach that perhaps there’s something to salvage.

“You didn’t ask me a question!” You slam your hand on the table and stand up to get in his face. “If I didn’t love you, I’d be good by now. I’d be better than barely getting by somehow! It’d be easy not to miss you or wonder who you’ve been with! If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in the state that I’m in!” You weep, “If there were a switch I could flip off to stop wanting you and missing you even when you're standing right here, I wouldn’t! So if the question is, do I love you? Then yes, Dean, I love you.”

His shoulders sag, he drops his eyes to the floor, and he takes a trembling breath. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do here, Dean. Do you want me to leave? Are we over? Do you want to try again? Do you want me to fight for you?”

He doesn’t reply, staring at his feet, taking deep breaths to hold back whatever emotion it is he’s trying to best. He’s not a man of many words, but silence isn’t the answer. You need something, anything.

“This is the part where I need an answer.”

Silence prevails, and you decide that it’s speaking volumes, so you take a step to leave, but the slap of Dean grabbing your wrist echoes. His grip is painful, and you frown at him, but it smoothes to pity when you meet his eyes. He’s so utterly devastated it’s harrowing to see.

“I’ve been looking for love in stranger’s beds my whole life, and I know I screwed up, but it made me realize you’re the reason I believe in love in the first place. I’ve never found anybody like you, and being happy even for a fraction of a second, scares me.” He takes a deep breath, and he’s clearly losing control of his emotions. “I know it’s gonna be difficult to trust me, but I’d be fucked up without you here. So, please, don’t leave. I need you to...” his throat bobs, and his voice breaks on the last word, “...stay.”

Pleasure In Illusions - Sequel

Super Supernatural: @denimbex1986 / @avanatural / @deanwanddamons / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @flamencodiva / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @petitgateau911 / @waywardbaby / @xoxabs88xox / @cockslut-padalecki

Driving Baby, Whisky & Leather - Dean Winchester: @deanwinchesterswitch / @krazykelly / @deandreamernp / @akshi8278

Tag List Info - all tag lists open.

#AFGBingo #anyfandomgoesbingo #DeanWinchester #DeanW #dean winchester angst #DeanWinchesterSmut #Dean Winchester x You #Dean Winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #cheating #smut #fluff #angst

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