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crushedbyhyperbole · 3 months

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Whiskey on the Tongue

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You are the forbidden fruit Dean had always wanted to taste, and when you steal his whiskey the way you do, he is powerless to resist.

Words: 2.2k

A/N: This is my first ever Supernatural fic after having started watching the show just before Christmas. I know I'm late to the game but is it ever really too late to start loving a fandom? I've tried to make the reader generic in every way other than being cis-female, and Dean finding her hot.

It's been an absolute age since I wrote anything and probably longer since I posted anything here on Tumblr but I'm getting back into it now. Hopefully this finds its way to people in the Supernatural fandom who love a bit of Dean smut.

I hope you enjoy and, as always, I value your comments and feedback.

Warnings: Smut, explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mentions of people who have passed away, profanity as standard with pretty much everything I write.

*** Minors do not read or interact - 18+ content ***

Dean let his head fall back against the headboard, clenching his fists to try to distract himself from the deep ache in his left leg. It had been falling asleep for well over an hour now, but he didn’t want to move and disturb you.

The door to his room in the bunker was closed. Locked, in fact, though he did not remember doing it. You didn’t comment or so much as move when Sam brayed on the door and tried the handle, calling out for Dean to return his book. The very book that was in your hands right now.

“I need that book back, Dean.” Sam grumbled.

“Not now, Sammy!” Dean called back, hoping his little brother would just go away.

“I’m researching Nephilim to help Cas with the Kelly situation, Dean. It’s important.” Sam became more insistent.

“I said NOT NOW, SAM!” Dean hollered with a kind of finality that even Sam wouldn’t argue with.

Outside the door, Sam huffed and stalked away. Dean looked down to see you looking up at him from your position, lay on his bed. Your head was resting on his left calf, his leg bent with his foot tucked under his right knee. You had your knees up with your foot tapping along to his banging playlist, your jeans tight around your thighs and with your head tilted back he could see all the way down the deep V of your t-shirt.

He was going to hell. Straight there. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. And he probably deserved it.

He snapped his eyes up towards the ceiling but it was too late, he could feel himself stirring uncomfortably in his jeans. If Bobby was alive he would have skinned him raw just for having you in his room. Bobby was always protective of you, his niece. You were only a couple of years younger than Sam but Bobby had made himself very clear that you were off limits.

“If you touch one single hair on her body, I’ll make you regret the day your balls dropped. Do you hear me, boy?”

Bobby Singer. That man did not mince his words. And to this day, Dean had taken that threat as gospel. Even now that Bobby was up there with the Angels, that son of a bitch would find a way to keep his word.

You shifted, causing a painful twang to shoot up his leg. The reflexive grunt he failed to stifle made you look back up at him, giving him that glorious view again.

Dean decided he could die like this. If having a dead leg was a legitimate threat to his life, he would go out happy with the view of your rack in that lacy black bra he could see within the V-shaped window of that too-tight t-shirt.

He raised his eyes, once again to heaven, asking Bobby to forgive him or give him strength or something because – god help him – he wanted to take you right then and there.

It wasn’t unusual for you to seek him out after a case when you didn’t want to be alone, but you didn’t want to talk. You would just sit while he drank, reading or working on spells. You said he quieted the noise in your head. Hell, he wasn’t going to argue, you were a sight for sore eyes every time he came home. You were wicked hot and sexy in a non-slutty way. Not that slutty was bad. Dean liked slutty. But that wasn’t you, you were different.

A drink. That’s what was missing. Dean needed a damn drink, especially if you were going to torture him by laying on him all evening.

He reached over to his bedside unit, for the bottle he kept in there for special occasions. A bottle of twenty-five-year-old Speyside single malt that he liberated from the British Men of Letters on his last interaction with Ketch.

The pour made you stir again but it wasn’t until he raised the cut crystal tumbler to his lips did you move. Your hand came up and claimed the glass from underneath, twisting it as you sat up so as not to spill any.

“Where’s yours?”

The cheeky glint in your eye had him pursing his lips in mild annoyance.

“Don’t pout.” You lifted the glass, turning it until the mark left by his lips touched yours and you sipped, looking him straight in the eye.

Dean’s jaw went slack. The glisten of the whiskey on your lips and the satisfied hum you made when you swallowed – he swallowed unconsciously when you did – made his mouth go dry. He had never seen you like this.

You moved to kneel on the bed and walked your way slowly closer, giving his leg a tap; an instruction to move it aside. He did, causing pins and needles to infest his nerves like ants swarming on a log to escape a flood.

Knelt between his spread legs, you brought the glass to your lips again, sipping at the amber liquid. You leaned in.

Dean watched you, breathing shallow, attention rapt. You hadn’t so much as touched him, yet every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire in the best possible way. The closer you got the shallower he breathed until he was almost holding his breath, looking down his nose at how close your lips were. His eyelashes looked to flutter against his cheeks just as yours did when you brushed your whiskey dappled lips against his.

He refused to lick where you had been. He couldn’t. As soon as he tasted, he would pounce, and…

“Don’t.” He croaked out when you moved to lay your lips on him once more.

You looked confused but at least you didn’t look hurt. He couldn’t bear it if you looked hurt because of him.

“Bobby…” Was all he could say through his constricting throat.

You smiled then, full of amusement, lips brushing against his, you whispered “he’ll understand.”

Dean tried not to respond to you but you coaxed his lips apart and teased your tongue to meet his, short circuiting his brain. The taste of the scotch and the sweetness of your mouth made him groan. He had fantasised about having you for years, but never did he think it would be you seducing him.

His hands on your hips guided you roughly to straddle him, the bulge in his jeans pushing up against you as you settled. He took the glass from your hands and downed the contents, his eyes on yours as he dropped the glass carelessly on the bedside unit.

Your lips met his again but this time you devoured each other, tongues stroking together, moans stifled by each other’s mouths. He trailed his hands up your body, dragging your t-shirt along with them. Finally, he could see what he had been having glimpses of this whole evening. Plush breasts cupped in scant lace that was completely impractical for a hunt, Dean realised, like you had meant to come here like this. You had intended this from the beginning.

He tore at the lace, dragging it under your breasts to free them, shoulder straps slipped down. Pawing at them like he had never touched a tittie before, all he wanted to do was suck and nip and nibble.

Your breathy sigh was divine, and the moan that followed was filthy. You cupped the back of his head as he took your nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, pressing him further, asking for more.

While he worked on your breasts you undid his belt and fly, reaching into the front of his shorts to release him from the awkward angle at which he was trapped. You stroked him, firm but slow, feeling him for the first time. You had always wondered what he had going on down there that every woman he had ever been with would come back for more at the drop of a hat. You weren’t disappointed.

Dean lifted his hips, you thought to allow you to push his jeans down but instead he flipped you, making you squeal. Once under him, he ravished your breasts anew, pinching one nipple hard while licking and sucking the other. Soon you were a mewling mess, hips writhing, begging for something he hadn’t given you yet. Excited that he had taken control away from you, you watched him sit up and yank your jeans down, lifting your legs until they were bare. Your knickers followed and he spread your legs without preamble, lowering himself between your thighs until his hair and eyes were all you could see above your mound.

“Jesus Christ of Nazareth!”

You groaned as he suckled against your sensitive spot. Fuck, he was good with his tongue. Everything about him was good except his image. Bad boy Dean Winchester. He was every woman’s wet dream. He had been your wet dream since you were seventeen. But now you were plenty old enough and finally getting what you wanted.

Bobby had told you to stay away from him when you were a kid. Dean had a reputation as a ladies man even then, but he respected your uncle Bobby enough to keep his distance… until now.

Dean dipped two fingers inside, creating pressure in exactly the right spot. You gasped and gripped his hair as your pleasure began to crest, tugging on it for dear life. He looked up at you then, to see your eyes closed against the intensity of it, neck and face flushed red with your oncoming orgasm. When it came, the pulsing of your core was his sign to slow down. He left off his suckling and stroked you through the pleasure, watching you all the while. You were a beautiful mess.

“That’s my girl.” He praised you in that deep rough tone you adored, helping prolong your climax until you took his hand away yourself. “Are you ready for me?”

You nodded, allowing him to lift your knees up and stroke the weeping tip of his cock over your swollen clit.

From the front pocket of the jeans he still wore, he pulled a foil packet with Trojan embossed on it. He was swift with its application, aiming his tip just so.

When he slid home, your eyes rolled back and you reached to grip his forearms. It was something Dean would never get tired of seeing but it felt that much different with you. You were the forbidden thing he had always wanted but could never have. Even now he didn’t know whether he would come to regret this. God, he hoped not.

Balls deep in you, he leaned forward to kiss you, wrapping your legs around his hips. His instinct was to fold you in half and pound the living shit out of you, but you were already overwhelmed and he wanted to make this soft for you.

“Tell me what you need.” He spoke softly as he nuzzled your neck.

“Just you, like this.” You sighed. Who knew Dean Winchester was a considerate lover.

His slow, measured thrusts brought you closer to the edge, your core fluttering each time, he could feel it. It surprised him how quickly is climax built at this pace, but the added connection you both shared seemed to turn him on. He would never give up Busty Asian Babe porn but he could get used to this with you.

You didn’t close your eyes against the pleasure this time, you watched him come undone above you, gasping as his orgasm made his legs and arms shake, muscles clenched tight to keep his weight from collapsing on you. When he swelled you dug your fingers into his hips to pull him deeper with each stroke, and when he spilled you also came, eyes fluttering shut finally.

Dean knelt up, slipping the rubber off as soon as he was clear of you and, tying a knot in the end, tossed it in the direction of the trash can.

“Shot.” You said with a smile as the sticky bundle went straight in the can.

He quirked and eyebrow and give you a slightly smug lopsided smirk that said: What can I say? I don’t miss.

When you moved to sit, he stopped you.

“Here, lemme get that.”

“Thanks.”

He stripped his t-shirt off and used it to clean up the wetness between your legs. Though none of it was his, it would still dribble when you moved. Afterwards he tucked it under your ass and flopped down on the bed at your side, moving his arm behind your head so you could rest it on his chest. You were both content. Both had goofy grins on your faces. Both disbelieving that you had finally gotten what you wanted.

A loud knock at the door started you.

“Are you done?” Sam said. “I need that book.”

“NO!” You and Dean shouted back in unison, laughing afterwards.

“Bobby’s gonna kill you.” Sam called back through the door.

“I KNOW!” Dean yelled gruffly, pulling you closer.

There might be a time in the future where the ghost of Bobby Singer came to make him regret the day his balls dropped and, if it happened, Dean would be happy to see him again. In the meantime, you and he could work on a whole bunch of reasons to make the cranky old bastard come down from up high for a visit.

Dean pulled the sheets over both of your heads, nibbling at your neck until you moaned his name. Aside from the roar of Baby’s engine, he had found his new favourite sound.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #dean winchester fic #cloudy's writing #my first spn fic

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sailorsally · 7 months

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enjoy the memes bc i have 6h of sleep and no self control

#cockles #the last one is my fave #jenmisheel #jenmish #spn #supernatural #destiel #sally blogs #sally memes #misha collins #jensen ackles #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3

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writeouswriter · 2 years

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Thinking about the time I commented on a fanfic saying it was one of the most in character works I’d ever read and they replied back with a thank you telling me they never actually saw the show, fascinating interaction

#yes it’s 3am ignore me #fanfiction #fanfic #slack jawed at my email like girl what #girl this was not about supernatural 😭 feel free to tag it that but no it really wasn’t #it’s something so much worse it’s for a uh a sitcom I shan’t say #when and why did this get so many notes??#sees popular blog in notes Ah

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nyxiswrites1200 · 5 months

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🩵𝑺𝒂𝒎'𝒔 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍🩵

Sam Winchester x Fem!reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, Crushing, friends to lovers, pet names, Sexual tension, Mellow sexual thoughts, Size kink, p in v, nipple play, multiple rounds, oral sex, praise kink, aftercare

Mentions: She/her reader pronouns, Reader wears a skirt, Reader is implied to be shorter than Sam, Imagining early seasons Sam, Dean is present

"In a world of boys, he's a gentleman"

AN: uhh I know I died for like a month but supernatural brain rot is incoming. Sam girl for life <3 anyhow, happy holidays loves. This is so self-indulging, sorry babes.

----

Sam Winchester is an awkward man. He's so respectful he doesn't know what to do with himself sometimes. But don't mistake his sweet attitude for a lack of attraction.

When you bend over to pick his book up off the floor for him, he notices your skirt sliding up your thighs. He quickly looks away as he runs a hand through the back of his messy brown hair.

Sam always opens the door of the Impala for you when you join him and Dean on road trips. He notices the way you let your hand brush over his arm as you help yourself into the car. Dean just lets out a small laugh as he climbs into the driver's seat.

Sam watches you saunter around the motel room in his shirt. Under the claim that 'it's just more comfortable'. He loves the way your figure is swallowed up by his larger clothes.

Sometimes it was almost degrading how respectful he was. In truth, you were trying to get his attention. To catch him peaking under your skirt, getting hard from seeing you in his shirt, or him finally being pushed over the edge by your 'discreet' affectionate touches. You swore you were gonna have to climb in his lap and say "fuck me" for him to actually do it.

In truth, Sam wasn't oblivious to what you wanted. Rather he was too kind to give it to you. He thought you were so precious that he needed to deny you. Sleeping with you would be too personal, too intimate and he wouldn't be able to let go of you after.

Dean let out a small laugh, Sam and him were alone in the hotel room while you went to go get dinner for the three. "What, Dean?" Sam asked in his partially sassy attitude as he read through his book. "Nothing nothing...it's just funny watching her pawn for you. Think you might be hurtin' her feelings." Dean smirked as he looked over at his little brother. Sam sighed in response, knowing he could only be talking about you. "I'm not that stupid, I know what she wants...I just..." he ran a hand through his hair "I don't think I should". "Sammy" Dean inquires "Look, she knows what we do. She hasn't gone running yet and she's perfectly human, there's nothing dangerous about that girl" he chuckles. "I know you're afraid because of what happened but...I think this might be something worth risking".

Sam let Dean's words simmer in his thoughts all night. For once he might actually agree with his older brother.

The next night you and Sam were alone. You finally spilled, being brutally honest. Sam watched with a bit of shock as you admitted how you'd be pawning for him. All your actions had a purpose and how bad you wanted to be his girlfriend. You almost wanted to cry with how emotionally overwhelmed this made you trying to explain yourself.

"Lovely, I'm sorry..." Sam stands as he cups your cheek and tilts your head up to meet his gaze. "I know you want me but I was being selfish because I know if I...indulge myself in you, I won't be able to let you go ever again." he explained, his voice was so gentle and his eyes reminded you of a puppy with the way he looked at you. "Maybe...I'm a little selfish too" you chime in "I just...I wanna be yours so bad that I don't really care what happens".

Those words alone tumbled the tension between both of you over the edge. Sam's kisses were soft then heated and needy. He had you pushed against the motel wall while both of you discarded your clothes. His larger figure covered you as he kissed you desperately. His hands engulfed your hips as he gripped them.

Once you two were on the bed, his hands fondled your breasts, teasing your nipples between his fingers. His chest pressed into your back as he kissed along your neck. You reached back to tangle a hand into his hair.

Sam was so sweet but he was a fucking god in bed. He knew exactly where to kiss, fondle, and tease. Nothing but deeply slurred words of "How does that feel?", "You okay?", "Taking me so well, lovely", and "Good girl...". You went three rounds with him...

He rubbed your clit and toyed with your nipples, leaving kisses and sucking up your neck. You came on his fingers, feeling him stretch you open. You wanted to watch his strong hands fuck into you so bad.

He nestled himself between your thighs. His tongue lapping up your first orgasm. You watched as you tugged on his hair, noticing the dominant look in his eyes. His hands gripping your thighs to keep them spread as you squirmed beneath him. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked on it until he fucked his tongue inside you while you came again.

Then finally he fills you with his cock, only after making sure you were okay. He had you stuffed to the brim, grunts and moans leaving him with each thrust. He pressed his forehead against yours as he kissed your cervix with the tip of his dick.

When you came for a third time, he let you ride your high until he pulled out and finished on your stomach. A gentleman as always, not stuffing you with his cum on the first night. Even if you wouldn't have minded.

Sam carefully cleaned you up in the bath. Warm water envelops you both. He placed a soft kiss on your shoulder and gently rubbed your side as he cleaned you up. His actions are no longer lustful, this was just affectionate. "Did you enjoy yourself? Wasn't too much?" he asked softly, his expression back to looking like a puppy. "I'm fine, Sammy. It was perfect..." You smiled and kissed him softly.

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 3 months

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Poems

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

summary: dean searches your room when you’re missing, and the love letters he finds break his heart

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.9k (1.5k excluding poems)

warnings: reader goes/is missing, language,

author’s note: please don’t make fun of my “poetry”, i know it’s not good that’s why i don't write poems lol

“Hey Dean, I’m working a case near Wichita so I’ll probably be back home by the end of the week. See you soon, bye.”

“That’s the last I heard from her,” Dean told his brother after playing him the message you left. “It’s been over a week, I’m gettin’ worried here!”

“Do you know what kinda case she was working?” Sam asked, Dean shook his head. “Okay, well I’m sure she’s fine, Dean. Let’s call the hospitals around where she is and ask if she’s there.”

“You do that, I’m gonna head to Wichita,” Dean replied.

“I think we should call the hospitals first, Dean. She said she was near Wichita, she could be anywhere from here to there!”

Dean sighed but agreed with Sam’s plan.

The boys had no luck with any of the hospitals so they decided to head over to Wichita and look for you. They searched for a few days before heading back to the bunker, hoping you might be there waiting for them. You weren’t, of course, and that only made their worry grow.

You’d been missing for nearly two weeks!

Dean thought there might be some kind of clue in your room and decided that searching it was next on his to-do list. Though he knew he was grasping at straws, he did it anyway.

Opening the door to your room, he smiled at the poster near your bed. It was the one he’d gotten you for Christmas last year. It was a kind of gag gift—it was his favorite band. (His real gift had been much more thoughtful.)

He began his search at your desk, digging through the mess of papers splayed out on the wood surface. His brows furrowed when he found one paper in particular. It looked like… a love poem?

The way your hair looks in the morning

The way your laugh adds life to moments boring

The way your breath hits my neck when you’re standing just behind me

Reaching over to grab something off the table

A lore book, of all things to be

And the way your eyes light up when you look into mine

I swear I almost see a hint of love

Behind those piercing starlights

Your lips on mine is what I need

Did you hear me?

I said kiss me, you fool!

We’ve not got much time

In this line of life

And I need you at my side.

Dean didn’t know if the poem would be considered “good” in the public eye, but he knew it made his heart clench. You were in love? But… with whom?

To him, the words were beautiful, and the thought that you wrote them about someone else broke his fucking heart. He knew there were no clues to your whereabouts in the next poem, but of course, he read it anyway.

I think of you when I drive and spot a classic car

I think of you when I eat a cheeseburger

And I’ll turn it upside down when I’m missing you

I think of you when I hear a Zepplin song

And I turn the music up when I’m not with you

I think of you when I see anyone wear flannel

Or a leather jacket that’s clearly a size or two too big

And I love to think of you

It just makes sense to me

I love to picture you beside me

At night when I can’t sleep

Or when I get scared of what I’m facing

I think of what you would do

Day or night

Night, day, or noon

I always think of you

Whoever this mystery person was, they were fucking lucky. Dean had never felt so jealous in his entire life. He always thought you two had a “will they won’t they” side to your relationship but at that moment he realized it was completely one-sided. The fun, flirty side to all your late-night conversations had just been friendly. Two friends playfully talking as if they both wanted to be more.

Of course Dean wanted to be more. Of course he knew he wanted to be with you. But now? Now he knew he’d either missed his chance or he simply never had one.

You were in love with someone that wasn’t him. And the love you’d been writing about wasn’t the kind someone gets over. It’s the kind that sticks—for life. The kind that people write songs about, the kind that people fight wars over, and the kind that makes people go crazy in the best way.

He knew he’d found that love when he first fell for you, but it turned out you had found that love in someone else.

“Anything?” Sam asked, walking into your room.

“Uhm,” Dean cleared his throat, hoping his eyes didn’t look as cloudy as they felt. “No, nothing important. Just some love letters or something.”

Sam furrowed his brows and picked up one of the poems off the desk, one that Dean had not read yet. As the taller Winchester read what you wrote his eyes grew wide, practically popping out of his head as his mouth fell open.

“Oh my fucking god!” Sam exclaimed. “Y/n’s in love with you?” He looked at his older brother in shock.

“Me? No, these poems are about whoever she’s been seeing recently, they aren’t about me. We’re just friends.”

“You haven’t read this one yet, have you?” Sam asked with a small smile before handing it over.

You asked me today; “what’s your favorite color?”

And I just shrugged; “I don’t know, blue?”

Cause how could I have said the truth?

The color I love most in the world

The color that brings me nothing but joy

In this sad, awful little life

Is the green and hazel of your eyes

The emerald diamonds that shine

When you look into the sun

The soft hazel that looks over at me

When we’re reading in the library

How can I tell you all of this

When the question is so simple and plain

How do I go into such specific detail

About the color I’m in love with

Without freaking you out

Or scaring you away

Or making you laugh at me

Because I know your favorite color

And I know it’s not the color of my eyes

“You…You think this is really about me?” Dean asked his little brother, hoping Sam was right.

“Dean in all my life I have never seen anyone but you eat a burger bun-side-down,” Sam chuckled a little having read one of the poems Dean had read earlier.

“Oh my god.” Dean furrowed his brows, looking back down at the paper in his hands. “We’ve gotta find her, Sammy, I gotta tell her!”

“Tell her that you went through her stuff while she was gone? Don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“No! Tell her I’m in love with her! Tell her that the color of her eyes is my favorite fucking color too! And every time her favorite band comes on the radio I turn it up, and every time I see a woman wearing her type of clothes I think about her. Tell her that all I do every waking moment of every day is wish I was with her, wish I was holding her in my arms so I could never let go.”

“I think you just told her.” Sam smiled, nodding to where you now stood at your door. Dean turned around quickly. Tears of joy stung your eyes as you looked at him and smiled.

“You love me?” you asked.

“More than anything,” Dean admitted as he hurried to you. He wrapped you in a tight hug, kissing your temple quickly before he tucked your head under his chin. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call, it’s a long story,” you mumbled. “When vampires ban together with twisted humans, they’re a lot harder to kill.”

“We were really worried about you,” Dean admitted. “Like…fucking terrified.”

“Is that why you decided to dig through my personal shit?” you asked. You were one hundred percent kidding, but Dean was still nervous.

“Yeah…sorry,” Sam cringe-clenched his teeth, “it was my fault.”

You and Dean pulled back from the hug, but you took his hand in yours as you narrowed your gaze at the younger hunter.

“I know your tell, Sammy,” you said. “But it’s sweet that you’re trying to cover for Dean.”

“Yep, all Dean’s fault,” Sam admitted before heading for the door, giving his brother a pat on the shoulder on his way out. “Good luck.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, I swear,” Dean told you quickly. “I was looking for something that might tell me where the hell you were.”

“How many did you read?” you asked.

“Three,” Dean sighed, still thinking you were pissed at him.

“So…you know, then? That I’m hopelessly in love with you? And you think I’d be mad at you for looking through my stuff?”

“I mean, I know you value your privacy.”

“Dean,” you started, putting a hand on his cheek and turning his face to look down at you, “would you please just fuckin’ kiss me already?”

He seemed almost surprised by your question but he quickly smiled as he bent down and kissed you. His one hand stayed clasped in yours while his other went to your waist and then trailed to your lower back. The hand you had on his cheek went to the upper back of his neck so you could tangle your fingers in his hair. The smiles on both of your faces only grew before you both pulled away.

“Wow, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Dean mumbled before he let out a short, breathy laugh.

“Me too,” you replied.

You’d been back home for a few days now and you had explained the whole missing situation to the brothers. You told them how the simple vampire hunt turned sour quickly when you realized the small-town’s sheriff was in on it and helped the vamps with making humans just disappear. They’d made you as a hunter instantly and held you hostage for a few days before you killed your way out.

Dean never left your side so when he saw a new poem on your desk his brows furrowed. Curiosity got the better of him as he sat down to read it.

My god aren't I lucky

Now that you're holding me at night

And that first time we kissed in the doorway

I could’ve sworn I was kissing pure sunshine

When your lips hit mine it was better

Then I could’ve ever imagined

And the love poems I've written became

Manifested words of affirmation

The butterflies in my stomach fluttered

And the blood rushed to my head

Think I could stay like this forever

Won't overthink it, I’ll just go and kiss you instead

“Well, well, well.” You came up behind him, and put your hands on his shoulders before you trailed them down and clasped them together over his chest, leaning your chin on his shoulder and kissing his cheek. “Look who’s digging through my shit again.” You smiled against his skin. He turned his head and placed a deep kiss on your lips.

“I’m not even sorry this time, because I think this might be the best thing I’ve ever read.”

“I love you,” you said and kissed him again.

“I love you so fuckin’ much,” he mumbled back.

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morallygreyintrovert · 4 days

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I got 99 tabs open and they’re all Ao3

For those of you who look too close and see I actually only have 7 tabs open, please refer to the gif below.

#reading fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #fic reading #fanfic readers #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #destiel #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural brainrot #supernatural is my only personality trait #supernatural fic #supernatural crack #destiel crack

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anteroscastiel · 9 months

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I was just think that, what if, in maybe season 5, Cas picked up on how a man's wife or girlfriend kiss them goodbye as a send off to a war usually. And maybe Cas decided to kiss Dean goodbye one time and, Dean made a joke about it and maybe said A pat on the back would've done fine, and that's all that comes of it because kripke thought it would be funny.

Then, maybe, skip ahead to season 12 or 13 and it still had never been brought up because it was just a joke, a bit. And maybe Dean and Cas are alone in the bunker kitchen, sharing a beer and Dean says, I'm thinking about 2010. And Cas says Why and Dean says Remember that time you kissed me goodbye? and Cas says Yes that was very embarrassing for me, and Cas thinks of leaving because he's not ready for this, he'll never be ready for this he thinks. And theres a bit of silence before Dean says I think about that a lot. And Dean is not looking at Cas, he's just staring at the counter, and Cas doesn't say anything. They finish their beers and Cas says Me too. Dean goes to bed and Cas goes for a drive and maybe he cries a little and maybe Dean does too because they know they won't bring it up again, at least, not for a long time.

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momotonescreaming · 7 months

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Modern au where steddie are dating long distance.

They meet online, chatting about the fanfiction that Eddie writes and Steve reads. They chat about shared interests in tv, and movies, and music. About shitty parents and coming out. And then it sort of evolves from there.

Messaging, turns into phone calls, turns in video calls, turns into racing hearts and sweaty palms when they see a notification from the other. Turns into counting down the seconds until they can open their laptops and call. Turns into hardcore longing, and pining, and whispering I like you through the screen.

They start dating.

Steve will send him messages ending in hearts and kisses. Will send him thirst trap photos he takes at the gym. Takes photos of the dinner he makes and sends it to Eddie with captions saying he's saving him a piece <3. Learns to make Eddie's favourite foods, so he can make them for him when they meet.

Eddie sends him previews of the fic he's writing. Photos of him performing with his band, sweaty and smiling. Serenades him over video call, acoustic guitar perched in his lap. Watches the basketball with Steve, each from their respective living rooms.

He wonders what it would be like if they were together. If Steve could cook him the dinner he learnt just for him, if Eddie could curl into his side as they watch the game together, Steve whispering the rules of basketball into his ear.

He wonders what it would be like to kiss Steve. To feel those plump lips on his. To taste him. His sweat, his flavoured chapstick. Would he put his hands on his waist? His jaw? Cradle his face? Would he make it slow and sweet? Or rushed and desperate? Would Steve whisper I love you into the warmth of Eddie's mouth?

But they live on opposite sides of the country.

He loves what they have. He loves having Steve. But Eddie wants what other people have. Would like to go on a date that isn't through a laptop. Would like to be able to kiss and hug and even just touch his boyfriend.

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blueberryrock · 7 months

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Calling all fanfic writers cause i am very curious about what y'all do!! I normally reread my fics all the time but I know a lot of other don't so please reblog this so many other writers see this!! and it doesn't just have to be for fics if you've written something that wasn't fanfic related!!

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messrsbyler · 1 year

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fanfic writers tell me in the tags what font you write in and in which size, i wanna see something.

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no-nightingalez · 1 year

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Babe wake up! Supernatural fanfics corrupted the datasets for AI writing companies!!!

#this fandom never ceases to amaze me #also stucky writers #love yall #spn #supernatural #spn fandom #supernatural fandom #destiel #deancas #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #fuck ai writing #my txt

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sleepwalkersqueen · 4 months

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Ao3 fearless mofos like:

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rax-writes · 5 months

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↬ hellish elysian

Elysian - relating to or characteristic of heaven or paradise.

Pairing: Crowley x afab!Reader Warnings: Smut, MDNI, 18+ ONLY ⇆ P in V sex, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), choking / breath play, impact play, hair pulling, degradation, mention of blood kink

The original objective of this entire situation had been manipulation. But, at this point, it was impossible to tell who was manipulating whom – or if that was at all part of the dynamic anymore.

Post-human blood debacle, Crowley felt more vulnerable than he had in a few hundred years. Being around demons too often felt risky, lest they sniff out his vulnerability & use it to their advantage. But he craved touch, affection, and closeness – which made him feel like a whiny child, but he couldn't get rid of the craving without satiating it. The best option, in this “between a rock and a hard place” scenario, was none other than one of the people who had a hand in attempting to make him human.

You.

You clearly knew of his involvement in the third trial, and you were a human. Even though you were a hunter – a damn good one, at that – you were still just a human, so he viewed you as less of a threat than any demons he could use for sex.

Or, at least, that's how he justified it. The truth was that Crowley had wanted to fuck you since the day he met you – first just to piss off Moose and Squirrel, then simply because something about you made his trousers tighter.

On your end, the rationale wasn't too different from Crowley's. Given the endless flirtatious comments the King of Hell threw your way, you often contemplated whether you could use sex as a bargaining chip with him. Sure, he was undeniably hot, and something about that gravely accented voice made you flush. But it didn't seem to be a card you truly wanted to play – until you basically got a late night “booty call” text from an unmistakable 666 phone number.

You got some juicy intel out of it, and a couple of ancient relics, both of which helped on the next couple of hunts. The next time, you got a very old, very powerful protection amulet. The third time… well, you came so hard you passed out, so you just called that transaction square. The fourth time was just a lavish dinner, a horse-drawn carriage ride around Paris at night, and a stay in a hotel that was so over-the-top fancy you could scarcely believe your eyes.

You lost track after that, but eventually… there were no transactions, no trades. Just mind-blowing, spine-melting, moral-disintegrating sex.

Crowley still bought you dresses with four-figure price tags to wear to swanky restaurants, followed by stays in five star hotels or rented million-dollar homes, fucking the brains out of one another on every surface. But somewhere along the way, any attempts at personal gain via manipulation were lost, and the two of you just enjoyed each other's company.

Which is what brought you to your current position – naked on silk sheets, barely clinging to consciousness as the King of Hell made you cum on his tongue for the umpteenth time that evening.

Crowley spoke, but you could barely hear him over the ringing in your ears. It sounded like he was far away as you gasped for air, eyes closed as you came down from your high.

“You look so pretty like this, pet,” he purred, absentmindedly kissing your inner thighs – each peck of his lips making you twitch. “Fucked within an inch of your life by none other than moi. Oh, I love to see it.”

Agonizingly slow, Crowley made his way up your body, leaving nips and kisses in his wake. Thighs, hips, stomach, breasts, throat, jaw – and, finally, your lips. As he situated himself between your legs, the familiar feeling of his rock hard cock grinding against your soaked pussy invaded your senses, causing you to sigh into the kiss. He continued to glide his shaft through your folds, teasing you until you began to whine.

“Something you want, darling?” Crowley asked lightheartedly, grinding harder against you. When you merely whined and hooked your legs around him, trying to pull him closer, he let out a condescending tsk tsk tsk. “You know what to say to get exactly what you want.”

However, his smirk faded when you rolled your eyes.

“I am not saying that.”

“You will if you want me to finish the job.”

That only made you smile, because god, it was always so fun to call his bluffs.

You shrugged, moving to leave the bed, “Meh, the job is finished enough, I'd say. We can go ahead and call it a day.”

Lightning fast, Crowley let out a quiet growl, grabbed you by the jaw, turned your head to face him, agitation written all over his face. You merely smiled – which only irked him more.

“Fine. You don't have to call me ‘my king.’ Just… just get back over here,” Crowley demanded, his voice becoming marginally more desperate at the end. You complied, falling into his arms on the bed, and he wasted no time in capturing you in a searing kiss.

One of his hands drifted lower to pump himself a few times, before snarling, “Cocky little bitch, aren’t you?” Before you could retort, he plunged into you in one swift thrust.

A loud, debauched moan escaped you, and you mindlessly raked your nails down Crowley’s back, earning a hiss from him – but you knew him well enough by now to know that he liked it.

The demon set a merciless pace, burying his face in the crook of your neck, beard scratching the sensitive flesh there.

“Hit me.”

The words fell from your lips before you’d even fully thought them through, but Crowley was never one to hesitate. Almost instantly, you felt his palm collide with your cheek – somehow with the perfect amount of pain to make it absurdly pleasurable.

You toppled over an edge you didn’t even realize you’d been approaching, coming undone beneath him with a scream. Vaguely, you heard Crowley hum in amusement. Before you’d fully regained your senses, he was flipping you onto your stomach and pulling your hips up to meet his, using his grip on you as leverage to resume harshly fucking you. He seemed to be aware that you were practically mindless at this point, as he manhandled you however he pleased.

As a cacophony of wet, lewd sounds and moans filled the room, you momentarily had enough mental clarity to recall why the nature of this arrangement was so hot: it’s wrong. It’s so goddamn wrong – for a skilled hunter to be knocking boots with the literal King of Hell. But fuck, does it feel so right when he’s inside of you – hitting your sweet spot with brutal, precise thrusts, pulling your hair harshly to force you upright and into a messy kiss.

When the kiss broke, you let your head fall back onto Crowley’s shoulder, and his heavy breathing hit your ear as he wrapped a strong hand around your throat, squeezing just the right amount. You clenched around him, and he groaned – low and deep.

“Such a filthy whore you are, darling,” Crowley stated, that damned gravelly, accented voice causing you to clench around him again. Keeping one hand around your throat, the other drifted from your hip to your clit, rubbing steady circles over it. “Mm, you love it when I talk to you, don't you? Whether it’s praise or degradation – as long as I’m talking, it gets you moaning and gripping my cock like a bitch in heat. You’re positively vile, pet. And I love it.”

There were tears streaming down your face from listening to him, and from him toying with your overstimulated clit, and the sight brought a dark chuckle from deep within Crowley’s chest.

“My little succubus,” he mused, then abruptly slapped you again before returning that hand to your throat to give it a firm squeeze.

It was all too much. You came again with a strangled cry of his name. Ever the egomaniac, hearing you finish with his name on your lips was almost always his ending point as well, and Crowley bit down harshly onto your shoulder as he finished inside of you.

The pair of you fell to your sides on the bed, spooning with his cock still inside of you. Crowley draped his arm around your waist, then kissed the bite mark he left on your shoulder. When you turned your head slightly to speak to him, your breath was stolen from your lungs when you noticed the crimson blood on his lips. He opened his mouth to apologize for having bitten you so hard, but then he noticed the way your jaw hung slack, your breathing grew heavier, and your pupils darkened to the point that your irises were fully eclipsed. And he smirked.

“A blood kink, love? Always full of surprises, aren’t we?”

“Go to sleep, Crowley.”

“Another time then,” he replied, not missing the way you smiled as you turned away from him.

#shoutout to chase for beta reading this for me #i luv u bitch #crowley x reader #supernatural #spn #spn crowley #supernatural crowley #crowley supernatural #crowley spn #spn crowley x reader #supernatural crowley x reader #my writing #crowley fan fiction #crowley fanfiction #crowley fic #crowley x reader fic #crowley fanfic #crowley fan fic

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nyxiswrites1200 · 4 months

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Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, Oral sex

An: Hello loves! This is just a small self indulging thought bc I am sick :( I'm still working on requests, I promise 😭

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"Sammy-" you moan softly as you tug on his hair. Sam grunts in response as he continues lapping at your cunt.

You've been sick for the past two days, all sniffly and tired. Yet, that somehow didn't sedate the arousal you felt for your boyfriend. You were too lazy to indulge in anything though! Sam has been so sweet in bringing you food, your medicine, and cuddling you. How could you ask more of him?

So when Sam noticed the pre-cum in your panties just as he was undressing you for a bath...he came up with an idea.

At first you were reluctant. "Sammyyy you don't have to...I don't wanna gross you out-" you whine as you try to push away his kisses.

Sam couldn't help but give you that shit eating smile. "Sweetie, you could never gross me out. Do you know the shit I've seen?" He chuckles.

You accept his next kiss as you give in to him.

"I've got you...just let me help you forget about being sick for a bit" he reassures as he rubs your sides.

That's how we ended up here.

Sam lazily eating your pussy. He held your thighs in a gentle grasp, his tongue licking at your folds. It was kind of relaxing as much as it was pleasing. He wasn't in a rush or concerned about himself at all, it was just about you. However, that didn't sedate the aching need in his cock. He could live with it as long as you were happy.

You moan out softly, an occasional whimper as well when his mouth graces your clit. His large hands rub small circles on your thighs.

Until he finally tips you over the edge, making your hips twitch up into his face. He doesn't stop you, he lets you twitch and tug at his hair, suffocating him between your thighs for a moment while you rode out your high on his tongue.

Finally, you let him go as he took a breath. He licks your slick from his lips as he kisses your inner thigh.

"Was that enough for you?" He asked softly. When he received a tired nod in response, he carefully picked you up from the bed. He carefully bathed you, making sure to use your favorite scents even if you couldn't fully smell them.

He then tucked you into bed, kissing your forehead. He did have to finish himself off in the bathroom once you were asleep though...

He'd do anything for his sweet girl.

#fanfic writer #my writing #reader insert #headcanons #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester fic #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester headcanon #sam winchester x reader #fem reader #sammy winchester #sam winchester x you

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