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fatecantstopme · 2 months

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Unattached Drifter Christmas

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: Dean decides he’d rather spend Valentine’s Day curled up on the couch with you.

Warnings: Cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), oral (M & F receiving)

A/N: in honor of Valentine’s Day, I gift you an adorable Dean Winchester fluffy smutty delight. 💜

"What are your plans, Sammy?" you asked from your perch on the kitchen counter.

"I happen to have a date," he replied with a smirk.

"Oooo with whom?"

"Just a nice local girl I met at the library last week."

"Sam Winchester and the nice local girl...sounds like a book I'd read," you teased.

He rolled his eyes and threw a dish towel at you. "What about you?"

"I have an excellent night planned," you confirmed. "Since Dean will be out cruising for ladies to go home with, I figured I could steal the Dean Cave for the night. I'm ordering a pizza, watching scary movies, eating a shit ton of junk food, and washing it all down with a bottle of wine."

Sam laughed. "Now that sounds like a party."

"Someone say 'party'?" Dean asked as he entered the kitchen.

"We were just discussing our Valentine's Day plans," Sam responded.

"You celebrating Unattached Drifter Christmas?" you asked in a teasing tone.

Dean shrugged and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. "Nahh, I think I'm gonna sit this year out. I'd rather stay home."

"Awww man," you grumbled.

Dean looked at you with an arched brow. "Is that a problem?"

"No," you answered quickly. "It just puts a bit of a wrench in my plans."

"And what are your plans?" he asked.

"I was gonna take over the Dean Cave for the night--scary movie marathon, pizza, snacks, alcohol."

"Pizza, snacks, and alcohol is my holy trinity," Dean said with a wide smirk. "Would you be opposed to me crashing your party?"

"You hate scary movies," you said.

"Yeah, but you love them," he countered. "I'm the crasher, so I'm not gonna demand a change in movie genre."

You smiled at him. "Alright, then you can come. I'll even supply beer."

Dean winked at you. "The way to my heart," he teased.

You rolled your eyes and hopped off the counter. "Oh, did Sam mention he has a date tonight?"

Sam shot you a look and you hurried out of the kitchen, laughing quietly as Dean started to tease his brother.

"A date, baby bro? Look at you!"

**********

You'd sent Dean to pick up the pizza while you set up the Dean Cave for the evening's festivities. You'd made a run to the grocery store earlier in the day to pick up yours and Dean's favorite snacks, as well as a decent supply of wine and beer.

You were more than satisfied with your selections, but for some reason you felt anxious. Well...to be honest, you knew the reason. You hadn't expected Dean to be staying home and you certainly didn't count on him joining you for the evening.

You'd known Dean for a little over five years and in that time you'd grown to care about him deeply, more than you should. He was a genuinely good person underneath his gruff exterior, a facade he had dropped with you long ago.

If you were completely honest with yourself, you knew you loved him, but you would never say anything to him. You knew him too well. Dean had lost virtually everyone he'd ever loved and he blamed himself for their deaths. He avoided romantic relationships like the plague because he didn't want to add another name to the body count. It was hard enough for him to bring you into his life as a friend, and there was no way he would risk anything more than that.

So of course, you kept your mouth shut, hiding your feelings from both Winchesters. The only person that knew how you felt was Jody and she would take that secret to the grave if you wanted her to. You would rather have Dean as a friend than lose him completely.

You tossed your favorite oversized blanket onto the couch with a sigh. You were trying not to think about curling up next to Dean for a movie marathon on freaking Valentine's Day of all days. You knew it was the romantic nature of the day itself that had your stomach in knots. You'd watched movies and binge ate with Dean countless times before without issue, but there was an added intensity to this instance simply because it happened to be February 14th.

You also couldn't help but wonder why Dean wasn't planning on going out. You couldn't remember the last time he neglected to celebrate 'Unattached Drifter Christmas' as he'd always called it. In fact, Dean hadn't been out to pick up a girl in weeks...you were struggling to recall the last time Dean didn't decline a girl's invitation to come home with her.

"I've brought sustenance!" The man in question spoke from behind you, startling you out of your thoughts.

"Jesus!" you yelped.

Dean chuckled lightly. "Sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean to scare you."

You shot him a look that clearly said 'I wasn't scared', which only caused him to laugh harder.

You tossed a piece of popcorn at him and headed towards the door. "I'm gonna change into comfy clothes before we get started."

"Good idea," he agreed, placing the pizza down on the table before following you out the door.

Five minutes later, you came back into the Dean Cave wearing your most comfortable leggings and an oversized worn out band tee you'd had for at least a decade. You'd opted to forgo a bra for comfort's sake and you hoped Dean wouldn't notice.

Dean was already sitting on the couch, wearing his gray sweatpants and a plain black tee. It was almost offensive how hot he looked in that outfit--no man had any right to look that good in sweatpants.

When you walked in, Dean's gaze traveled from the TV to you. You noticed his pupils dilate slightly as he looked at you, but you figured that was due to the change in light.

You plopped down on the couch beside him, leaving plenty of space between the two of you to avoid any awkwardness. "Ready to be terrified?" you teased.

Dean groaned softly. "You know I'm only watching these because you love them."

You grinned and snagged the remote from him. "They're so good!"

"Our life is a scary movie," he grumbled. "I don't know why you like these."

"I think that's actually why I like them. Our real lives are full of the kind of shit that would make people lose their minds, but for us, it's just another Tuesday. These movies are either cheesy as hell or have an exaggerated version of a monster we have hunted and killed--so it becomes entertaining instead of scary."

Dean raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Or you're crazy."

You smiled at him and shot him a wink. "That's just an added bonus."

He rolled his eyes and grabbed a slice of pizza. As he shoveled food into his mouth, you opened up a streaming service and typed in the name of the first movie you wanted to watch.

"You remember The Conjuring right? And Annabelle?"

"Yeah," he answered. "That Annabelle one was creepy as hell."

You grinned. "Well this one is in the same universe and I've been dying to watch it."

You pressed play on the remote and the opening credits of The Nun began to play. You snuggled up under the blanket and sighed contentedly, a piece of pizza in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

Dean glanced at you and couldn't help the soft smile that graced his lips. It was rare he got to see you truly happy and content, so this was a moment he intended to fully savor. He studied your face, desperate to commit it to memory, unwilling to forget how beautiful you looked in this moment.

He sighed softly and closed his eyes, still picturing your face clearly in his mind. It brought another smile to his lips and he breathed in deeply, smelling a mixture of your shampoo and your perfume. He wanted you to be closer to him, but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

He made a split second decision and voiced his request aloud, "It's a little chilly in here. Do you mind sharing the blanket with me?" He wasn't cold at all, but he thought it might get you to move closer to him to share.

"Oh! Sure." You smiled and scooted in his direction, holding the edge of the blanket out to him.

He took it and started to cover himself. "You're gonna need to come a little closer, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle. "I need a bit more coverage."

You laughed and moved even closer to him so your arms were now touching. "Better?" you teased.

"Much," he affirmed.

You tried to keep your body relaxed and focused on the movie, but Dean's proximity was overwhelming your senses. You could smell his aftershave, feel his body heat, and see the rise and fall of his chest much more clearly than before. The simple act of a man breathing should not be a turn on...yet here you were.

You shifted slightly as you felt a familiar wave of heat pool in your belly. Not now, you thought to yourself.

"You okay, doll?" Dean asked softly.

His voice sounded lower than before, huskier even, and you had to bite your lip to keep from audibly moaning. As it was, you could feel the slick gathering between your legs, which was mortifying enough.

"I'm fine," you lied, shifting again.

Dean wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his side. "Come 'ere," he muttered. "Get comfortable."

You gasped softly at the sudden movement, but you allowed him to pull you closer. You laid your head against his chest and sighed quietly. You had to admit, it was a much more comfortable position to be in, even if it increased your longing.

"Better?" he whispered, echoing your earlier question.

"Yeah," you mumbled.

Dean smiled down at you even though you couldn't see it. He liked this new position--he liked holding you. He knew he was crossing boundaries he'd never intended to cross, but his feelings had become unbearable as of late.

He couldn't remember a moment when he didn't want you and it was getting harder to remember a time when he didn't love you. The last couple months had been hell on his heart and he was starting to break. He hid it from everyone, especially you, but he knew he couldn't do that for much longer.

His random hookups had stopped alleviating his desire to be with you, instead increasing that need tenfold after every encounter. So he stopped hooking up with women altogether. He'd considered moving out of the bunker for a while to get away, but he couldn't do that to Sam or to you.

He found himself in a predicament he'd been trying to avoid for years and the walls he'd built around his heart had started to crumble. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep you safe--he'd rip out his own still-beating heart if he had to--but he couldn't find the strength to stop loving you. No matter what he did, his love only grew.

It wasn't fair to you and he knew he shouldn't love you, shouldn't tell you, shouldn't pull you into something with him that would almost certainly get you killed, but his own pain was becoming too much. The physical ache in his chest when you were apart was beginning to impact every part of his life, including hunting. He'd be lying if he said it didn't terrify him, but he couldn't fight his feelings any longer.

"(Y/N)?" Dean asked softly.

"Hmm?" you hummed, eyes still trained on the TV.

"Can you look at me, sweetheart?" he murmured.

You shifted your head to look up at him. You were struck by how brilliantly green his irises looked in the dimly lit room, your lips parting slightly in surprise.

Dean's heart was hammering in his chest so quickly he was certain you could hear it. When your pretty (y/e/c) eyes met his, he was immediately lost in them--adrift in an ocean of (y/e/c).

He knew this was it--it was now or never...he could either take the leap or let his pain drown him in loneliness. He chose the former. He lowered his head the short distance to place a soft, warm kiss against your lips.

The moment you felt his lips on yours, it was like the world stopped spinning. Suddenly there was nothing but you and Dean--nothing else existed, nothing else mattered. Just you and Dean.

When your lips began to move against his, returning his kiss, he groaned happily. His hands grabbed at your torso, seeking comfort in your soft flesh. He tugged you towards him, and you shifted your body to straddle his lap, lips never leaving his.

In your new position, you could feel his hardening member pressing against your clothed core. You ground against him, earning a moan from deep in his throat. His hands tightened their grip on your hips and your nails dug into his shoulders as the sensation sent a bolt of electricity through you.

Dean's hands snaked under your shirt and he began tugging it upwards in an attempt to remove it. The logical part of your brain suddenly kicked back on and you grabbed his hand to stop him.

"Dean--wait," you gasped, pulling away from him slightly.

His eyes widened and his body tensed. He quickly removed his hands from your body and held them up in surrender. "I'm sorry, we can stop. I--"

You shook your head. "I just need...I need to say something." You bit your lip. "I don't wanna be a one night stand or a friends with benefits thing. I-I can't, Dean. I can't."

The pain in your voice nearly broke his heart. He wanted to reassure you, but he wasn't sure you would believe him. He had a reputation and it was Valentine's Day...what were the odds you'd believe him?

"(Y/N), listen to me," he said gently, taking your hands in his. "I would never ever make you to do something you didn't want to do...and I would never purposefully hurt you. I need you to know that. Do you know that, (Y/N/N)?"

"Yes," you whispered, nodding slowly.

"Good...because I mean it. I can't do any more one night stands or casual hookups or friends with benefits situations. I can't handle any of those things anymore than I can pretend I don't need you. And I do need you, (Y/N/N). I need you in every way a person can possibly need another...mentally, emotionally, physically--all of it. You're the best part of my fucked up life and I don't want to lose you."

It was rare to see Dean so open and vulnerable. This was one of the very few times you'd been witness to it, but this was, by far, the most emotional moment you'd ever shared with him. You wanted to respond, to say all the things you'd carried in your heart for years, but you couldn't think of a single word to say.

Your silence dragged on long enough that Dean began to worry he'd crossed a line he shouldn't have...a line he couldn't uncross. "Please, (Y/N)," he begged. "Say something."

"I'm sorry," you said quickly, realizing you'd been silent too long. Dean's face fell and you knew he believed you were about to reject him. You placed your hands against his chest in a calming manner, desperate to infuse your love in the touch.

"You're not going to lose me, Dean," you assured him. "I'm not going anywhere...my place is here, with you. This is where I belong--where I want to be. Wherever you are is home to me."

He didn't need grand gestures or romantic poetry. He didn't need some eloquent speech about how much you loved him. All he needed was to hear your sweet voice saying he was your 'home' and he was a goner.

When his lips met yours for the second time, everything felt different. It was as if all the moments of his life before this were in black and white and he was seeing in color for the first time. He felt alive in a way he'd forgotten--whole, in a way he'd never experienced.

He'd had very few positive relationships in his past and most of them ended bloody. He'd thought he'd been in love before, but those feelings paled in comparison to the way he felt about you. This was love, a love so real--so lasting--it was branded into his very soul.

His fingers gripped the edge of your shirt again and this time, you allowed him to remove it. "Fuck," he groaned, hungry eyes trained on your naked chest. "No bra?"

"I wanted to be comfortable."

His large, calloused hands gripped your heavy breasts and he gently kneaded the supple flesh. "I want my girl to be comfortable all the time," he murmured. "So I think we should burn all your bras."

Your soft chuckle morphed into a moan as his lips found one of your nipples. You rolled your hips against him, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

Dean wanted to take his time with you and he was thoroughly enjoying his current activities, but it seemed you had other plans in mind.

"Dean," you whined. "Need you."

He gave your nipple one last gentle lick before lifting his head. "I'm right here, baby."

You rolled your hips against his throbbing cock and he groaned. Clearly you wanted more and he was in no position to deny you anything.

He gripped you tightly and stood up. You yelped in surprise and wrapped your legs around his waist. He turned around so your back was to the couch and he slowly lowered you down, placing you on the couch in front of him. He kneeled down and looked up at you, eyes dark with desire.

His hands slid slowly up your thighs, coming to a stop at the hem of your pants. "Can I take these off?"

You nodded rapidly.

He smirked and began to peel your leggings down at a painfully slow pace. You whined in annoyance, but Dean simply smiled. "Patience, sweetheart."

Finally, your pants, and subsequently your underwear, were tossed onto the floor, leaving you completely bare before him. There was a small part of you that felt self-conscious being naked in front of Dean. It was always uncomfortable for you the first time you found yourself in this position with a new man, but Dean was different. You weren't sure if it was the hunger in his gaze, the affection he clearly had for you, or the love you felt for him...you felt safe, you felt comfortable, and you felt loved. That was all that mattered.

Dean licked his lips in anticipation as he slowly spread your legs, revealing your soaking wet pussy to him. He groaned softly, spreading your legs wider to get an even better view.

"Now that's the prettiest pussy I've ever seen," he murmured. He slid a finger between your folds to collect some of your juices before bringing the finger to his mouth. He sucked it clean with a moan of enjoyment. "Delicious."

Before you had time to react, Dean had grabbed your hips and dragged you forward so you were closer to the edge of the couch. His mouth was on you in an instant, feasting on you like he might never eat again.

Your head fell back against the cushion and soft moans began to stream from your lips. Your legs rested on his shoulders and your hand gripped his hair tightly. Salacious sounds filled the room and you were glad Sam was gone for the night. You had a feeling it was only going to get louder.

Dean's experience in the bedroom was very evident as he ate you out. He was extremely skilled, but more importantly he paid attention to you. He was desperate to learn exactly what drove you wild and he wouldn't stop until he'd mapped out all of your pleasure points.

"Dean," you gasped softly, grip on his hair tightening.

He knew you were close, the way your legs began to tremble and your grip on his hair indicating your impending orgasm like a flashing neon sign.

His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place so you couldn't squirm away. With expert precision, Dean spelled his own full name against your clit with his tongue, sending you into a spiral of moaning, shaking bliss.

Dean continued to lap up your juices as you came down, and to your surprise, he didn't stop, even as you began to tug on his hair in earnest. "Please, Dean! Too much," you pleaded.

Dean sucked your little bundle of nerves into his mouth and slipped two fingers inside of you. He quickly found your sweet spot and began to drag his fingers along it repeatedly. The shock waves of pleasure had you changing your pleas to moans in seconds.

Your pussy gripped his fingers like iron and he couldn't wait to feel you grip his cock in the same fashion. He hadn't even been inside you yet and he already knew he would never want another woman's body the way he wanted yours.

"Dean!" you cried out, thick thighs squeezing his head, hips gyrating against his mouth as you came once again.

He lapped up everything you had to give him hungrily--wishing he could stay between your legs forever. This time, however, he allowed you to pull him up by his hair.

You were completely breathless, chest rising and falling rapidly. Dean licked his lips and wondered how sexy you'd look riding him, breasts bouncing as he slammed up into you.

"I think," you mumbled, "you have...too much...clothing on."

He laughed at your breathless remark. He had to agree with your sentiment, so he stood up and removed his shirt quickly. When he stood, you were rewarded with a nice view of his erection pressing against the confines of his sweats.

He smiled at you and slowly lowered his pants, revealing his very large member. The tip was red and throbbing, precum leaking from the slit. You licked your lips and eyed him hungrily, wanting to wrap your lips around it with a desperation that surprised you.

"Sit," you begged.

Dean smirked and obliged, sitting down beside you. You slid off the couch and crawled the short distance to settle between his legs.

Your soft hands wrapped around his cock and he groaned softly. "You're so big," you whispered.

"Your hands are small," he teased.

"But my mouth isn't."

Dean didn't have the time to process your sassy comment before your mouth wrapped around him and you began to suck his cock in earnest.

"Holy fuck-" he groaned, head falling back against the cushion.

He tangled his hand in your hair and gently guided your head as you began to take his cock deeper into your throat. You flexed the back of your tongue as you did so and he groaned loudly.

Having gotten the reaction you'd desired, you did the same move a couple more times, allowing his cock to almost leave your mouth before sucking him deep into your throat.

His grip on your hair tightened and his hips thrust forward, causing you to gag slightly. Instead of trying to lift off him, you breathed deeply through your nose and held steady, relaxing your throat as best as you could.

"Baby, you're doing so good for me," Dean murmured. "Making me feel amazing."

You moaned around his cock and reached between his legs to cup his balls and give them a gentle squeeze. His hips bucked slightly at the action, causing you to smirk.

You continued to suck his cock until he tugged your hair a little more harshly. "You gotta stop, doll, or I'm gonna cum."

You hummed in disappointment, but allowed him to pull you off his cock with a soft popping sound. He looked down at you with lust filled eyes and beckoned you towards him.

"Come up here, baby. I wanna touch you," he begged.

You climbed onto the couch with him, straddling his legs once again. You lowered yourself slowly, rubbing his cock against your wet core. You leaned forward to kiss him and repeated the action. He moaned against your lips before pressing his tongue against them, demanding entry.

You parted your lips and kissed him deeply, allowing his tongue to assert dominance. The kiss was passionate and loving, but the fire that burned inside of both of you in that moment only cared about pleasure.

"I need to be inside you," Dean whispered against your lips.

"Please," you begged him, rutting against him once more.

He gripped his cock tightly and lined himself up with your entrance. Once the tip pressed against your tight opening, he released his grip, hands settling on your hips to help guide you down.

You moaned softly as you continued to lower yourself onto his cock--the stretch both painful and enjoyable all at once. He was larger than you were accustomed to, both in girth and in length, and it almost felt as if you were a virgin all over again.

You had to lean forward, pressing your body against his for support as you lowered yourself down completely. You'd never felt so full, your toes curled at the mere feeling.

"You okay, baby?" Dean murmured, hands gently rubbing soothing circles into your back as he allowed you time to adjust.

"Never better," you whispered in reply.

You pulled yourself up into a proper sitting position and gasped as he somehow sank even deeper into you.

Dean worried he'd hurt you until he saw the look in your eye. His concern quickly turned to a smirk of pride. He pressed his hand against your lower abdomen and growled, "You feel that, baby? I'm so deep inside you, you'll be feeling me for days."

You moaned softly, his words having the desired effect on you. You rolled your hips a little and he hissed softly.

"Fuck, doll."

He gripped your hips as you started to move, bouncing up and down on his cock slowly.

His lips attached themselves to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone--anywhere he could reach. He was reveling in the feeling of your soft body against his muscular one, your curves providing him with plenty of flesh to hold on to.

"You feel so good, baby," he moaned in your ear. "Pussy squeezing me so tight--can hardly breathe."

"Feels good, Dean," you whimper.

"Yeah, baby? You like the way my cock feels in your pretty little pussy? Stretching you just right--you were made for me."

You preened at the praise, which only made him want to praise you more.

"This perfect body of yours makes me feel so good, sweetheart. You take my cock so well. Wanna stay here forever just making you feel good--listening to those sweet sounds you make. Fuck, never wanna stop."

You loved his praise, but your thighs were starting to get tired from the exertion. Dean could feel you slowing down, so he pulled you forward, pressing your chest flush against his.

"I've got you, baby. Let me take over," he whispered.

You gripped his shoulders and nodded, more than willing to allow him to take control.

As soon as he felt your body relax against him, he planted his feet firmly on the floor and began to piston up into you. He held you tightly against him to prevent you from moving too much.

"Dean!" you cried, nails digging into his shoulders.

His cock pressed into your g-spot with each thrust and in a matter of moments, you were teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

"Can feel you squeezing me, baby. You gonna cum for me? Huh?" Dean asked huskily. "You gonna coat my cock with your sweet cum, baby? Cum for me, sweet girl. Wanna feel it."

You loved the way he begged and it had you coming undone in an instant. You screamed his name as your walls fluttered around his cock. It took all of his focus not to cum along with you.

"That's my good girl," he whispered. "I'm gonna cum soon, doll. Where you want it?"

"Inside me," you begged. "Please, Dean--fill me up."

"Oh, fuck-" Dean moaned loudly as he came, coating your walls with his seed.

After a few more thrusts, Dean stilled. He continued to hold you tightly against him, needing to feel you close to him as he came down from his high.

He rubbed your back soothingly and placed a soft kiss to your damp hairline. "You were so good for me, (Y/N/N)."

You kissed his shoulder. "Felt so good, Dean."

He smiled and squeezed you tighter. He sighed contentedly, enjoying the feeling of the woman he loved pressed against his chest.

His cock had begun to soften and his cum was leaking out of you and onto his thighs, but he couldn't be bothered. Taking care of you was his one and only priority.

"Do you need some water, sweetheart?" he asked softly.

You shook your head.

"Food?"

You shook your head again.

"Tell me what you need, baby," he begged.

You finally lifted your head to look him in his eyes. "I know it's cliché to say I love you after sex, but I don't care. I love you, Dean...I love you wholly and completely."

Dean nearly breathed a sigh of relief at your admission. "I can't even begin to express how happy it makes me to hear you say those words. I've been pushing the feeling down for years, but I can't do it anymore, (Y/N). I love you with everything I have--it might not be much, but it's yours. You have me forever--mind, body, and soul."

You smiled and gently caressed his cheek. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes. You kissed him softly, which he immediately returned in kind.

When you separated, you noticed a mischievous glint in his bright green eyes. "Dean?"

"What are your thoughts about round two in my bedroom?"

You laughed lightly. "Are you gonna kick me out of your bed at 2am?"

"Not if you don't snore," he teased.

You smacked his shoulder affectionately and he laughed. "You're lucky you're so damn cute."

He grinned. "Actually, I'm adorable."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "You know, I think I like the idea of round two."

Dean smiled and pulled you even closer. "Hold onto me, sweetheart."

You gripped him tightly and he stood up, holding you to his chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he headed towards his bedroom.

When he entered his room, he gently tossed you onto the bed, earning a soft giggle from your lips. He climbed on top of you, pressing sweet kisses to your skin for several moments before finally kissing your soft lips.

"I'm glad you skipped 'Unattached Drifter Christmas' this year," you murmured.

He smiled. "Me too, baby. I think it's more 'Attached Drifter Christmas' now."

You laughed. "I love you, you dork."

He kissed you again. "Not as much as I love you."

The two of you spent the next couple hours continuing to explore each other's bodies, experiencing blinding pleasure over and over again.

Nothing could ever compare to the love you felt for each other, and in spite of everything, you both fell asleep in the comfort of each other's arms, dreaming of the beautiful future ahead.

#supernatural #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x plus size!reader smut #dean winchester x plus size reader #supernatural smut

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quesadillayuri · 5 months

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looking at the missa is the samsung fridge allegations with glee!!! (my samsung fridge x philza arc was the foundation of my fanfic writing)

#shout out to cryonic beauty #it kinda sucks in retrospect but i spent MONTHS on that shit it was my LIFEBLOOD #sammie fridge u would love missa #.hellwurld

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 2 months

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Daddy’s Girl

Dean Winchester & daughter!reader

Synopsis: your life growing up as Dean’s daughter (ignores cannon)

You were born of Dean’s short-lived relationship with Lisa. When he was forced to leave his family behind to keep them safe, he was also forced to take you with him. He’d wanted to leave you, to keep you safe, but with Lisa and Ben’s memories wiped of him, you got wiped with him.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said as Dean held you in his arms. “There’s no way to erase you without erasing her, too.”

Despite how much Dean wanted to keep you safe, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret how things turned out.

…

Sam pursed his lips, and Dean couldn’t hold back his laugh when he spotted his brother covered in broccoli.

You started giggling when you noticed your father’s smile, but Dean clamped his mouth shut when he saw you laughing.

“Hey now,” he scolded, trying desperately to look stern despite still being able to see the broccoli in Sam’s hair. “Don’t throw food.”

“Is yucky!” You whined, kicking your feet.

Dean gave you his signature ‘dad glare’ and you gave him the puppy eyes that he was convinced Sammy taught you just to drive him nuts.

Neither of you were willing to give in, far too stubborn for anyone’s good. Finally, Sam broke the awkward silence.

“How about we try a new veggie?”

…

“What are you watching?”

Dean tore his eyes away from the screen to see Sam standing in the doorway.

“Saw, why?”

Sam scoffed, “Do you think she’s old enough for that?” He gestured to five-year-old you, curled up in your dad’s arms.

“She’s out like a light, she has no clue what’s going on,” Dean assured him.

“So what, she’s your new stuffed animal?” Sam chuckled.

“It’s called parenting, Sammy. Now shut up, you’re gonna wake her up.”

…

“Daddy, look!”

Dean rubbed his hands over his face, closing the lore book in front of him when you came bounding into the war room.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” He asked, his voice thick with exhaustion as he lifted you into his lap.

“I maked the Impala,” you grinned, showing off a pencil sketch of Baby colored in with a black crayon. “Uncle Sammy only helped a little.”

Dean could tell from the detail of the drawing that Sam helped more than a little, but he didn’t care.

“This is great!” He praised. “Baby would be so proud, looks almost as good as her.”

You giggled. “Can I hang it on the fridge?”

“I think it’d be a crime if we didn’t,” Dean insisted, standing up with you in his arms so he could carry you to the kitchen.

…

“Dad!”

Dean staggered back in surprise when ten-year-old you launched yourself into his arms the moment he stepped into the bunker.

“Hey kid,” he chuckled, but his smile dropped when he noticed your strangled breaths, and how tightly you were clinging to him. “You ok? We weren’t gone that lon-“

“Someone’s in the bunker,” you whispered, and Dean now also noticed that you were shaking.

“What?” He demanded, lowering you to the ground and grabbing his gun with one hand, keeping his other hand on your shoulder protectively.

“I-I heard footsteps,” you stammered, still trying to catch your breath. “So I ran, and-and I was looking for a place to hide when you opened the door.”

“You’re sure it was footsteps?”

“I know what I heard!” Your stammer left you when your fear turned to annoyance.

“Ok, ok,” Dean soothed. “I believe you. Now, I want you to go and hide in my room, ok? Stay there, and don’t open the door unless it’s me, understand?”

“B-but…” you glanced around nervously, unwilling to let go of your father.

“I need you to do this,” Dean said. “I need you safe, ok? You’re gonna be fine.”

You nodded, but Dean’s jacket was still clenched between your fingers.

“C’mon now, go!” Dean gave your arm a gentle push, and as soon as the two of you were no longer touching you seemed spurned into action. You ran in the other direction, headed straight for your dad’s room.

Once the door was closed and locked behind you, you immediately went to sit on Dean’s bed, your arms wrapped around your knees as you tried hard to stop your trembling.

You assured yourself over and over again that your dad would take care of it; he’d get the intruder out, and it would all be ok. When you heard footsteps echoing through the hall, your heart lifted, sure that your dad was coming to get you.

But then the doorknob jiggled as someone tried to open it. It stopped, but still no knock came, no “hey, it’s me,” from Dean; nothing.

Until with a loud bang! the door flew free of its hinges.

You scrambled back with a cry of surprise, and your hand found something hard under Dean’s pillow. You snatched it up as the intruder—a tall man with blond hair and a dark suit—stalked towards you.

You lifted the object, surprised when you saw that it was Dean’s gun.

“St-stay back!” You warned. The man hesitated for only a second before continuing his advance towards you.

“You don’t have the guts,” he scoffed. He took one more step—he was only a couple of feet away—and reached out to grab you.

The gun kicked back in your hands as you fired, and you nearly dropped it. A look of morbid shock crossed the man’s face, but it only lasted for a brief second as he slumped to the ground at the side of Dean’s bed.

Your whole body was shaking. Your hands didn’t seem able to let go of the gun. You could feel blood on your face where it had splattered.

“Sweetheart?”

Your whole body flinched at the sound of your father’s voice. He was in the center of the room—you hadn’t even noticed him come in—and his hands were held out towards you.

“Sweetheart, give me the gun.”

Your hands went limp when Dean grabbed the gun. He tossed it onto his bed, his attention never leaving your face, which was turned towards the dead man on the floor.

“Hey, Y/N, look at me,” Dean demanded. Your eyes slowly found your father’s, afraid of what you might find there. But there was no anger, or judgment, not even surprise. There was only comfort, maybe a little worry.

“Let’s go,” Dean said, lifting you into his arms. When he saw you staring at the dead man, he cradled the back of your head in his hand and pushed your face against his shoulder as he carried you out of the room.

“I killed him.”

Your voice came out muffled against Dean’s shirt, and Dean’s heart constricted at the quaver in your voice.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he soothed, subconsciously rocking you in his arms like he used to do when you could barely crawl. “He was gonna hurt you, you defended yourself. You did nothing wrong.” Dean sighed. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I didn’t want you to have to do that.”

“I killed somebody,” you said again, and Dean’s arms tightened around you. He knew he couldn’t talk you out of this; not yet, you were still in shock. So he’d do the only thing he could.

“It’s gonna be ok, baby,” he soothed. “I promise.”

…

“Where is that girl?”

“You lookin for Y/N?” Sam asked as Dean wandered around the bunker.

“Unless we’ve got another girl living here I don’t know about,” Dean shot back.

Sam just rolled his eyes.

“She’s in the library doing homework.”

“Again?” Dean shook his head. “I think I’ve let her spend too much time with you, she’s becoming quite the nerd.”

“Don’t look at me,” Sam chuckled. “I told her to take a break like an hour ago. That nerdy behavior is all her.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Dean closed the book in front of Sam. “You both need a break.”

“Ok,” Sam shrugged. “Good luck, she’s just as stubborn as you.”

“We’ll see.”

…

“Hey!” You yelped in surprise when your dad lifted you up and out of your chair, Sam watching from the doorway with a grin on his face.

“No more books, you two have spent too much time being nerds this week.”

“But I have a paper to write!”

“You mean that paper you told me is due in three weeks?”

“Well…”

“Uh huh,” Dean said. “You’ve got time, so take a break.”

“On one condition; we watch Lord of the Rings.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam cut in.

“Oh come on,” Dean groaned. “Could you two be bigger nerds?”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t want to watch it,” you giggled, trying to squirm out of Dean’s hold since he still hadn’t put you down.

“I don’t remember asking for your input,” Dean huffed, setting you down on your bed and digging his fingers into your stomach. You squealed in surprise as your dad tickled you. “And I certainly didn’t ask for your sass!”

“Who-who do you thin-think taught it to me!” You giggled, squirming as Dean didn’t let up.

“Hey now!” Dean scoffed. “Now you’re just asking for it.”

Dean continued to scratch and poke at your sides, your stomach, and your neck until your face was bright red and your laughter was silent.

“Alright, let’s go,” Dean said as he let up, slinging you over his shoulder and making his way towards the Dean cave, Sam following behind.

“Yo-hou’re mean,” you giggled.

Dean just chuckled.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

#dean winchester #dean and sam #the winchesters #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x daughter!reader #sam winchester x niece!reader

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loversofthegrave · 2 months

Text

obsessively thinking about sam

how sam harbours the same codependency as Dean but I feel it plays out differently for them both, maybe not always credited as frequently as it should be

Like when sam gets drunk, I think that's a prime example of his layers, needy, desperate, scared. He needs his big brother, he needs his big brother to tell him that everything's going to be OK. No matter sam's age he regresses to that little kid brother he always was in times of hardship, needs the reassurance of his big brother that he will be safe, that dean's going to take care of him.

He didn't know his mother, not really, he was taught to miss her. His father was absent. It was dean who held him to sleep, band aid his scrapped knees, walked him to school, picked him up, put his marked school work on the motel fridge, his big brother, that was sam's entire peripheral vision. dean was sam's mom and dad rolled into one, the one who raised him.

As much as some viewers perceive dean being the obsessive/possessive one about sam (he is too) but so is sam about dean. If sam wasn't the forefront thought of dean's mind he would lose his shit, as unhealthy as their codependency is to every therapist ever, that's how sam defines himself, dean's little brother 'only he gets to call me sammy' dean's smug face, that's dean's sammy, no one elses, couldn't ever be<3

#!!! we need to talk about sammy !!#they both fucking love it and wouldnt change it if they could #sam loves being taken care of by his big brother and dean lives to take care of his sammy #his mommy issues #his daddy issues #my god #supernatural #spn #sam/dean #wincest #sam winchester

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samkerrworshipper · 5 months

Text

a whore’s punishment | sam kerr x reader

yeah literally the most smuttiest smut i’ve ever written… i implore even my non sammy fans to take a look because it’s literal filth x10 and even though im in a sam slump this literally lit me up.

warnings: smut smut smut, spanking using belt and paddle, phone sexting, dildo usage, fingering, vibrator usage, overstimulation, orgasm deprivation, safe word usage, aftercare. 18+ minors dni.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

It’s the agitated and slightly angry voice of your girlfriend as she closes the front door behind her that captures your attention, you don’t remove your eyes from their focus on the tv, you knew better than to make eye contact.

“You were running late for dinner, what was I supposed to do?”

You could hear Sam stamping her shoes off, you knew she’d finally managed to toe them off when the sound of her padded feet stomping down the entrance hallway broke the noise barrier.

“Does that seriously warrant you sending me videos when I sent you a text saying I was being kept later for some media?”

No. Was the right answer, and if you weren’t in a bit of a bratty mood you would have said so, but Sam had been training everyday of the week recently, she came home tired, hungry and grumpy most nights. Not that you really minded, but it had been a week since you’d gone past the point of gentle morning kisses, and you were getting sick of it. No matter what you tried, she resisted. You tried to sneak into her morning showers, just for her to tell you that she couldn’t be late. You tried to straddle her when you were watching tv at night, just for her to tell you that she was feeling tired. You understood, it was understandable, but you also had needs, needs that your girlfriend needed to fucking take care of.

“You promised me dinner, if I get a little bit bored whilst you're running late then you can’t really blame me, there’s leftovers in the fridge.”

In situations like these there were generally two ways Sam reacted, prolonged gratification or instant gratification. She would either ignore you, until you were begging for her attention and then when you were begging for her she’d punish you, or she’d deal with you know. It typically was dependent on a few different factors, mood, hunger level, horniness level and annoyance level.

“Come here.”

Sam’s voice was flat, not a real indicator of her mood. You hesitated for a few seconds before getting up, keeping your eyes focused on the floor and not Sam.

She was standing at the kitchen counter, her keys and phone laid out miscellaneously on the quartz bench.

You tiptoed closer to her, keeping a safe enough distance but close enough that you were within arms reach if she took a step forward.

“Look at me, pet.”

That was new, not unwanted but new, pet names were a norm but the one ‘pet’ was completely new.

“Y/n eyes on me.”

The use of your full name was enough to pull your eyes from Sam’s socks, slowly trailing up her Chelsea sweatpants and matching long sleeve top, raking up her body until you met her eyes. They were set, slightly darkened, her jaw was locked but there wasn’t any obvious anger in her facial features.

“I told you I was going to miss dinner, at 10 o’clock when I got to training and Emma told Mills and I that we had to stay late for some Media, it wasn’t my fault. Now, can you remind me what the rule is about you touching yourself and orgasming without my permission?”

Sam’s voice was even, patient, your body craved it, craved her attention like this.

“That I’m not allowed to do it without your permission unless we’re in different countries.”

Your voice was a slight murmur, your eyes falling from Sam’s direct line of sight to avoid the penetrating glance she was giving you.

“That’s right, now let’s have a look at what you sent me, hmm?”

Sam picked up her phone from the kitchen counter and you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself a little bit as she quickly opened up her phone and your text messages, revealing a chain of texts from you, the first one being a single sentence before the onslaught of videos and images.

‘Should have come home earlier’

Sam clicked on the video immediately below that text, the screen was blank for a few seconds, before the camera was turned around to you, lying in your shared bed, fingers deep in your heat, pumping wildly in and out of your pussy whilst you moaned theatrically at the camera. You couldn’t help but snort, which received a fairly pointed look from Sam. The video went for a little bit too long, it became a little bit showy towards the end, you made notes for your future self.

Sam flicked her thumb across the screen, revealing a video of you in the shower, this time you were rubbing madly at your clit, the warm wash of the shower coming down on your body, your head thrown back against the tiles. This video didn’t go for as long, and it wasn’t quite as graphic but it got the message across. Sam’s thumb swiped against the screen once again, and the videos were superseded by a series of explicit images of yourself, in a series of compromised positions.

Once she’d flicked through them all she put her phone back on the table, there was a lot of disapproval on her face, her eyebrow cocked and her jaw locked.

“Was it just the two orgasms or were there more?”

Sam’s hand came to find your jaw, pulling it upwards so that you were forced to look her in the eyes.

“Just the two.”

Sam nodded slowly, the cogs in her brain were clearly turning over and over.

“Okay so two orgasms, and touching yourself. You sent four photos of you, but I’ll be nice and count it as one infraction. So that’s three all together, which means three punishments, any disagreements?”

You shook your head. Sam’s lips perked up into a sardonic smile, her tongue licking against her lips as she looked down at you.

“Strip and then over the counter babygirl, ass up.”

You nodded slowly, reaching down for the hem of the sports bra you were wearing and pulling it over your head, without any hesitation. You gently handed the bra over to Sam, before moving down to the waistband of your cotton shorts and tugging them down your hips, your panties coming down with them. You stepped out of them cautiously before handing over the other articles of clothing to Sam.

You stood in front of her for a few seconds, you felt so small next to her, so vulnerable, which you supposed was her intention. You gulped before moving towards the counter, and very slowly leaning over the top of it. You felt your nipples pebble up against the cold surface as soon as they made contact with the bench, your body reacting to the positively freezing contrast to your warm skin.

“Don’t move, and don’t even think about touching yourself, I’ll be back in a minute.”

You obeyed Sam’s order as she walked out of the kitchen and presumably into your bedroom, although you couldn’t tell for sure because you were facing the opposite way and you were smart enough not to disobey Sam when she already had plans to punish you.

You could hear her rustling around, presumably in your toy drawer but it was nothing more than an educated guess, a mere hypothesis about the plotting of your meticulous girlfriend.

You found your body shivering slightly over the counter, your muscles weren’t used to being stretched at this kind of angle and it was beginning to cramp your hips, if that was what 30 seconds did you were a little bit worried about whatever Sam had planned for the rest of the night.

You weren’t left to think on your own very long, the sound of Sam’s soft feet falling against the floorboards as she came back into the kitchen.

You heard her drop a series of items on the bench behind you, and then you were overwhelmed by near complete silence.

The only noise left in the room was the sound of you and Sam breathing and the low hum of the AC from the living room.

“What’s your safeword, pet?”

It took you a few seconds to process Sam’s words, your brain seemingly ticking along slowly with the lack of stimulation.

“Traffic light system. Red to stop. Yellow to slow down. Green to go ahead. If I’m gagged or can’t speak I can click three times or tap your thigh three times.”

Sam’s body felt so close to yours, and yet so far away at the same time, it was insufferable.

“Good, if you feel spacey or sick or unwell?”

It never seemed to amaze you just how much care Sam took even when she was mad with you, at the end of the day your safety mattered more than anything to her.

“I tell you immediately, if I feel faint or seriously not okay then I safeword or do whatever I need to to stop the scene.”

It sounded obtuse, but there had been times when such problems had arisen.

“Good memory baby, what colour are you?”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep some of your composure, but Sam’s voice, the overwhelming knowledge that there was more to come was causing a big collection of wetness pooling at the pinnacle of your thighs and slowly beginning to drip down them.

“G-Green.”

The hesitation in your voice came from the uncertainty that was your predicament. You felt so untouched, so exposed, which you supposed was what Sam was going for.

Then all of a sudden her hand was on your back, her touch feather light but it was something, and you keened into it, her touch completely welcome along your back.

Her hands weren’t there long though, instead snaking up to the highest point of your back and transitioning across the sides of your neck, until her hands were on your face, the feeling of her hovering a few centimetres above overbearingly too good to be true.

You didn’t get to appreciate the feeling for very long, before Sam’s hands were pulling a piece of satin across your eyes and tying the piece of material off at the back of your head, leaving you completely deprived of your vision. Everything else slowly heightened after this, your ears perking up and the nerves across your body jolting as you realised that Sam’s body had been removed from yours as quickly almost as soon as it had initiated contact.

You felt the loss more than anything, you craved her touch, craved the feeling of her skin on your own, and she knew that. She knew that deprivation was one of your biggest weaknesses, that it had you buckling at the knees for her, because there was nothing you hated more than forcefully being removed from the arms of your lover.

You heard Sam pick something up from the bench, and just as soon as the sound had hit your ears you felt the crack of Sam’s hand connecting with your ass. The feeling, then the sound, then the pain. It wasn’t really pain, just a sharp shoot of sensation crossing your ass cheek as you flinched away from the unexpected and unwanted touch.

“Count them for me.”

YOu gulped, swallowing down the big lump that had formed in your throat.

“One, thank you Sam.”

You didn’t have to wait much longer for her hand to come down on your ass, the sound rebounded off the walls, cacophonous as it reached your ears. The pain was mild, but it was enough to lift you up onto your toes, your body welcoming the contact but also adjusting to the mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Two thank you Sam.”

The next eight strikes were similar, the strikes started to become a little bit harder, a little bit more forceful, Sam seemingly unwavered by the small groans of pain that were leaving your lips every time her hand connected with the flesh across your ass.

When she finally got to ten you heard her take a few steps away from you, and then pick something up from the counter behind you before returning to her position hovering somewhere to the right of you.

You didn’t have very much time to hover over her whereabouts, before the sound of leather slapping against your skin hit your ears. The feeling of a slightly rounded, leather paddle cascading down across your bare skin sent a different kind of sensation across your body, the more vicious material searing against your skin and leaving a lingering feeling. You groaned in pain, your brain all consumed by the tingles that were making their way across the nerve paths along your butt.

“Colour?”

You felt your brain resurface, the realisation of your actual predicament setting in and your instinct kicking in.

“Green, 11, thank you Sam.”

Your words were said with tears building up behind your eyes and a choken sob halfway up your throat. Sam had spanked you far harder, this wasn’t anywhere even close to the threshold you had for pain, but for some reason it didn’t assist you whatsoever in stopping from choking up like a baby.

“You can stop counting for now, just take some deep breaths baby, you’re almost halfway there.”

Sam’s hand rested itself on the low point of your back, her cooling touch soothing the space above the burning expanse across your ass cheeks.

Just as you began to relax into her touch, she struck again, and again, and again, and again. You bit down hard on your tongue, hard enough to silence the sobs that were beginning to generate in the back of your throat.

“I better not find any blood in your mouth once we’re done, or else you’ll be dealing with a whole different punishment, make as much noise as you need, but you better not be hurting yourself in the process, that’s my job.”

You quickly unclamped your jaw, opening your mouth slightly to take open breaths, trying your very hardest to slow down all of the thoughts that were running wild in your brain.

Before you could ponder on them for too long, the paddle came raining down on your ass again, five more times.

You weren’t quite sure whether Sam’s pressure was increasing or whether it was just the repetitive feeling of the leather falling on brandished skin, but either way it was starting to burn, and you could no longer hold back the deep, guttural sobs that were building up, you knew it would do nothing to tug on Sam’s heartstrings, once she set out to do something, she did it, but you knew that it would make her realise that you were genuinely sorry and that you were feeling the repercussions of your actions.

“Last ten pet, almost done.”

You heard Sam put the paddle down on the counter with a thud, then you heard the sound of leather and metal, and your breath caught in your throat at the realisation of what Sam had procured. You felt your tits tremble against the counter, and your pussy clenching as it waited for whatever Sam had planned next.

You weren’t left to wait very long.

You heard the swish and the crack before you felt anything, and when you did your knees almost buckled from underneath you.

“Colour?”

It took you a few seconds to adjust to the pain that the belt inflicted, it was more targeted, more precise, it lit a literal fire on your ass.

“Green.”

Sam had used a belt on you a handful of times, you were used to it, and it definitely wasn’t something that was out of your comfort zone, but it took some adjusting to, especially on your already warm ass.

It cracked down on you once again, and you let out a deep, breathy sob, the tears leaking down your face steadily as you took in a deep breath, the silk blindfold soaking up some of the tears. You were using the bench as a means to keep yourself from buckling down onto the floor, without the bench there you were fairly certain you’d be a heap of bones on the floor.

Sam struck three more times, quicker, but just as precise as all the other strikes. Every single one though made contact with a different part of your ass and upper thighs, covering the skin in red stripes, that you were certain would bruise up nicely. Sam granted you enough time at the end of the trio of strikes to catch your breath before she fired again, another two fiery strikes cracking down against your skin, baking your behind and forcing more tears to fall down your cheeks.

Sam’s hand came back to resting on your back, gently working her fingers into your skin, waiting for you to relax and calm down before she finished off.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t proud of her work, your ass a deep red, the same colour as the red cards that were used on the pitch. The belt had sealed the deal, leaving deep, angry, red lines across your beautiful ass. Sam wanted nothing more than to squeeze your ass, to see you double down from the pain, but she wasn’t that mean, actually, maybe she was when she was downright filthy with you, but she wasn’t right now, not really.

If anything she was a little bit dumbfounded and lovestruck, it always made her a little bit giddy when you outright decided to obey her in such ways, it made her realise just how much you craved this kind of affection, just how much you craved for her to put you in your place every once in a while, to remind you how Sam was in charge.

Once you relaxed under her touch she finished you off, pulling the belt up and very quickly letting the last three strikes come down against your skin. The sound of the leather coming down on your skin was music to her ears. She waited for you to compose yourself, dropping the belt back with the other stack of toys that were on the counter behind her before coming up beside you and raking her hands and nails over your back, letting you cry out whatever was left in your body.

It didn’t take too long, once the fiery pain had subsided it was just the lingering ache across your ass that you were sure would stick around and leave you unable to sit on any chairs for at least the next week or so.

“Turn over for me baby.”

You took a deep breath, and with the guidance of Sam’s hand, you turned over slowly, doing your best to not brush your ass up against anything. You turned your body, flipping over so your back was pressed against the cold stone. You left your ass hanging over the bench, hoping, and silently praying that Sam wouldn’t make you move.

She hovered over you, a little smile perking up the corners of her lips at the vision of your face. Your eyes were covered in the slightly damp red silk, cheeks covered in tear tracks that looked similar to snail tracks that you would find on a sidewalk. You were pouting at her, your lips parted slightly and lips swollen from the incessant biting and sucking you’d done to them to conceal your cries of pain. Sam was so desperate to see your eyes, to get a glimpse at your blown and big pupils, filled with desire and desperation.

“You did so good angel, my perfect girl hm? What colour are you? Feeling like a reward?”

You nodded at Sam almost immediately, your head nodding up and down.

“Yes please, I’m green, can take anything you give me, just wanna be your good girl.”

Sam smiled at your answer, her hands rubbing gently against your hip bones, her touch gentle, a stark contrast to the way she’d previously been treating another part of your body.

She loitered over your stomach for a little bit, her hands tracing the delicate olive skin, enjoying the feeling of the goosebumps that began to form the more her hands graced the surface of your hips.

She stayed that way for a little bit, enjoying how your back arched up to meet her touch. You were so much more receptive when she removed a sense from you, she noticed it every time the two of you messed with sensory deprivation. Whether it was your vision, hearing, taste, or restraining your limbs. It never ceased to amaze her how your body was so reactive so her touch, to anything you were given.

She waited until you were shivering under her, before she removed her hands, walking back over to the counter and picking up her next toy of choice.

When she turned back to look at you she took a few seconds, admiring the sight in front of her, your thighs squeezed together, your body unmoving, she assumed you were trying to contain the desire inside you, trying to suppress the heat pool in the bottom of your stomach. She was proud of you for trying, proud of you for trying your very hardest to behave. She was prepared to reward you for that, in a little bit, first she needed to make you work for it.

She slid her way across the floor, slowly closing in on you.

“Open your legs for me baby.”

You obeyed as soon as the words hit your ears, opening your legs up to reveal your glistening pussy lips.

“Slide back for me babe, legs on the counter, I want you nice and open for me.”

You bit your lip, not at all pleased with the idea of your ass making contact with the bench, but also aware that if Sam was asking you had to obey.

So slowly, you pushed your feet up off the floor, sliding your ass against the cold counter, bringing your legs to rest up on the counter beside you, leaving you open and ready for Sam.

You groaned at the feeling of your burning ass coming into contact with a cold stone counter. It was an excruciating sensation, almost worse than the feeling of the belt coming down against you. Sam gave you time to adjust, her hand coming down to rest on the inside of your thigh, just above your knee, it seemed to be enough for you, your body jolting at the contact. It was nice, but it wasn’t where you needed her, it wasn’t the part of you that was yearning for her.

“S-Sam please.”

Her fingers twirled around the skin and muscles, intricately tracing the different bumps and indents in your skin.

“Please what?”

Sam didn’t make you beg very often, for selfish reasons. When you were fucked out, you wrren’t highly coherent, and it took a lot to get words out of you. So it wasn’t that you were defiant of her questions, you just struggled to put together sentences, and she wasn’t going to torture you by trying to put words in your mouth. Today though she was feeling a little bit more patient than normal.

“F-fuck, please, my pussy.”

Your words slipped easier off your tongue then Sam would have expected, as soon as they did though her face lit up, her hand slowly trailing it’s way further upwards, working its way around the crease between your thigh and labia, tracing the joint before moving inwards and trailing her nail across your lips, teasing the bare skin and then ever so slowly dragging into your wetness. You moaned as soon as her finger slipped in between your lips, it wasn’t exactly what you desired but it was something.

Sam, ever so carefully, with laser focused attention dragged her lone finger around your lips, making absolutely zero contact with the two places that were craving her.

Sam continued the same pattern, her finger gently moving in and out of the wetness that was pooled inside your lips, leaving your pussy clenched and your clit puffy with need.

You tried your very hardest to stay still, arching your back up from the bench, just the way Sam liked, hoping that it would implore her to explore further.

It did it’s job, Sam’s finger leading itself down to your waiting hole, and ever so slowly sliding knuckle by knuckle in.

You moaned almost immediately, the feeling of your pussy sucking her in being completely indescribable. Sam started slow, her fingers sliding in and out of your hole and a tantalisingly slow pace, you didn’t really mind.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam wasn’t aiming for anything besides working you open, she didn’t care how much pleasure, or the lack of pleasure you got from her current actions, because for her it was more a chore of sorts, working you open so you could take the toy resting beside you on the counter.

She did so slowly, working you open with her single finger before inserting a second, going through the same process before inserting a third. She ignored your mewls and moans, being strictly clinical about her procedure, focusing on opening you up properly for her.

When you were easily accepting three of her fingers without any resistance she eased her fingers out, ignoring the sounds of displeasure that left your lips as she did. Sam was highly doubtful that you were finding much pleasure from her actions, you needed more stimulation then she was providing.

She licked the taste of you off her fingers before reaching up to the counter. This time, she knelt down on the floor in front of you, clenching the soft silicone in her hands and slowly bringing it up to your open and waiting pussy. She trailed it through your wetness first, getting it nice and lubed up.

Your body trembled with the feeling, completely interested in whatever Sam was going to give you.

“You sent me four pictures, so I’m going to edge you four times, on top of the spanking you just got. Every single time you get close to you are going to tell me, if you cum then we’ll start over again. After the fourth one you have permission to cum, but once you start I won’t stop until you tap out or pass out. I expect you to use your safeword when it becomes too much, if you don’t then we will keep going. Am I understood?”

You gulped at Sam’s captain’s voice, her tone direct and leaving absolutely zero room for you to avoid what she was asking.

“Yes, I understand.”

Sam smiled to herself, happy with your immediate compliance.

“Colour babygirl?”

It was a preemptive question, because you knew once Sam started she wouldn’t ask again, it would be up to you to decide when you were done.

“Green Sam.”

As soon as the words processed in Sam’s brain she was pushing the dildo into your hole, turning on the vibrations and slowly beginning to ease the dildo in and out, letting you adjust as she began to thrust it in and out with a little bit more vigour.

It was ecstasy for you almost immediately, your hips arching up to meet her at every thrust. Normally she’d restrain you, but this time she didn’t mind, especially considering that it was getting you closer to the edge.

You were a moaning, mess, your eyes rolling into the back of your head behind the blindfold.

“F-fuck Sam, close.”

It was embarrassingly quick for you, but you decided that it was better to get this over with, so you succumbed to your internal desires and allowed yourself to ride freely on the cloud of desire, which was withdrawn from you as soon as the words lefts your dry and raspy throat.

Your body began to tremble, your pussy clenching on empty air, desperate for any kind of attention that it could get. You tried to clench your thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction beside the cold AC that was falling down across you, making your pussy quiver and your nipples pebble, but Sam’s hands were there to stop you, holding your thighs open and waiting for the pleasure shocks to drain out of your body before she got back to her current job.

Just as you’d come down, she pushed the vibrating dildo back in, this time wasting no time and pounding it roughly in, focusing all of her energy on finding the spot inside you and rubbing the vibrating tip up against it.

She knew when she did, your desperate moans becoming significantly louder and thready. As soon as she’d located it, she honed in, focusing all of her efforts on that one spot. She didn’t care how sore she was from training, how much her triceps burned from her task, once she was focused on something it became a task that was unavoidable, she had to achieve whatever she was working towards.

“Sam-Sam, fuck, close.”

Once again, her hand revoked itself, leaving your legs shaking with the loss of sensation. You were so desperate, so fucking desperately chasing your orgasm. You groaned out in agony, it was both a blessing and a curse that Sam had decided on a number, because at least you knew when you were done, but it also made it feel so much harder to achieve that goal. Sometimes when Sam was edging you she’d just keep going and going until you tapped out, it was excruciating not knowing when it would finally come to an end, but at least in those situations there was an opportunity to try and beg or plead with Sam, whereas when there was a set target there was absolutely zero opportunity to bargain with her.

She didn’t wait for you to fully come down this time, Sam was growing impatient, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was feeling lazy right now. She was more than happy to punish you, but she also was going to do it in the easiest way possible for herself. She figured you’d learnt your lesson at the other end of her belt anyways, what she was doing right now was just reinforcement, leaving the impression that if you wanted to be a bratty whore than she’d fuck your brains out how bratty whores wanted it.

This time when she slid the dildo in she was met with absolutely zero resistance, she didn’t waste any time at all working it back to the spot she’d previously found, this time though, you were less reactive. It always seemed to be that the longer she edged you, the more stimulation you needed, so she reached her spare hand up from its spot resting on the inside of your thigh up to your clit, finally giving the neglected nub some much needed attention, and sending you into a world of pleasure.

She applied even pressure, spreading the pad of her thumb against your little puffy bud and usen an even circular pressure to make your body betray every single part that was trying to fight the edge that Sam just kept pushing you too.

You groaned, a flurry of expletives leaving your mouth.

“I know baby, I know.”

You were the picture of divinity in Sam’s eyes. Your nipples pointing upwards, hard as rocks, your back arched up and the sight of your bright red arse and thighs hanging slightly over the kitchen bench. To Sam, you were angelic, like a statue in a museum, or a Van Gogh painting.

“Sam, close, really fucking close.”

This time Sam loitered for a second, removing the vibrator from your pussy but leaving her thumb resting for a little bit, testing the waters. When you began to curse even more decoratively she removed her hand, resting both of her palms on the inside of your thighs and watching as you shook and quivered underneath her. She had a front seat to the image of your pussy, watching attentively as your sex unclenched and shivered right in front of her eyes.

It was a magical sight, a true gift to watch alongside.

“Last one pet, last one, I know you can do it for me, you’ve been so good.”

Sam’s words of encouragement were enough to fill your lungs with air, you could do it, you could do one more, even if it felt like Sam was literally taking a chunk of your chest out every single time she put you on the edge and then pulled it all away, like stealing candy from a baby. You were so hungry for your orgasm, absolutely starving for your release.

Sam didn’t taunt you with teasing, she knew you were desperate and she wasn’t going to toy with you. She wasted absolutely no time returning her thumb to your clit, rubbing it mercilessly and almost violently thrusting the vibrator in and out of you, hitting your g-spot every single time. It took you maybe a minute before you were balancing right on the edge, you wanted to succumb to it so bad, but there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that if you did it would only be a spiral of more edging and you didn’t need that, not after the hell you’d just been through.

“Sam-Sam stop, stop.”

Sam obeyed your request, removing her hands and placing them gently on your thighs, watching you come down from your ruined high.

“You’ve got it pet, you did so well for me didn’t you, this time you can cum as many times as you want, I’ve got you, just let me know when you're done and we’ll call it, okay?”

You nodded at Sam, you felt completely stripped, your blindfold damp with tears, your legs and ass aching from their exertion and your pussy jusr desperate for attention.

Sam’s breath on your thigh was nice, a relief of sorts.

Just as you were beginning to feel everything she pressed the toy back into you and her fingers were at your clit desperately rubbing.

It took absolutely nothing to get you to the edge, Sam was showing absolutely zero mercy, the dildo thrusting in and out of you with no rhythm, just ruthlessness, her fingers on your clit were the exact same, just rubbing furiously in circular motions.

“Sam-Sam fuck I’m cumming, fuck-fuck-fuck.”

Sam just smirked at the vision, your pussy clenching on the toy and your clit prodding out of it’s hood.

“I’ve got you babygirl, cum for me, I’ve got you.”

The words were enough encouragement for you, sending you directly over the cliff, your vision going black and stars clouding the darkness, your body spasming in ways that it never should as the pleasure coursed through your brain.

Instead of coming back to a blissful cloud of pleasure though you were awakened with pain. It was like having a bucket of cold water tipped on your head, the feeling of Sam pushing you towards another orgasm excruciatingly too much. Every single sensation was heightened, the agony in your ass, the sensitivity in your pussy.

Before you could even speak up you were barreling over the edge into an almost painful orgasm, your cunt and body spasming once again as Sam continued at her punishing pace.

You knew you were at your point, coming down from your orgasm and feeling nothing beside strain, and with the knowledge that Sam had no plans to slow down you took it as your time to tap out.

“S-sam red, red, fuck.”

As soon as the words left your mouth everything was gone, the rough touch and toy that had previously been overwhelming your pussy letting up.

You felt Sam slip out from under you, deserting whatever was in her hands and reaching up to your face, tugging the blind down to hang around your neck and reaching down behind you to untie it.

She was rewarded with the beautiful sight of your eyes, glazed over with a happy glint in them.

“Hiya my love, how ya feeling? I’m thinking a bath and then some snuggles in bed, how does that sound?”

You didn’t have the capacity to answer Sam in words, you just nodded your head, and she took it as enough of a cue to lift you up in her arms bridal style, being especially cautious to not brush up against your ass in any way.

She carried your limp form into the bathroom, resting you on the edge of the tub as she reached over to the faucet to start the water running. She reached under the sink, pulling out your favourite oils, salts and soaps, dumping a mixture into the rising warm water.

She helped you ease into the tub, cooing words of encouragement as you groaned at the feeling of your burning ass connecting with the warm water.

Once you were settled in the tub she undressed herself before sitting herself down behind you, helping you into her arms.

Sam spent her time washing your body, worshipping every single inch of skin carefully.

When the both of you started to prune she helped you out of the bath, holding your body up as she towel dried you, and ever so gently applying some healing cream to your ass to make it a little bit more comfortable.

After that she carried you into your shared bedroom, gently helping you under the covers before walking around to her own side and sliding into the bed, bringing you into her arms almost immediately.

“Sam.”

Sam looked down at you, her eyes caring and gentle, there was so much love to give in those eyes.

“Yes, love?”

It was so perplexing to you how those eyes could shift so easily, how she could go from being your dom to your lover in such a short amount of time, it was the reason you trusted her so easily with you, because as soon as the switch flicked she was all love, everything you could ever need or want.

“Thank you.”

You words were murmured into Sam’s shoulder, your body completely spent and relaxing further into her own every single second.

“Thanks for what baby?”

Sam had an inkling of an idea what you were thanking her for, but she was interested in hearing the words actually fall from your lips.

“For giving me what I needed, for loving me.”

Sam rolled her eyes, it was so you.

“Baby all you have to do is ask next time, no more of the bratting because you need my attention, hmm?”

You nodded sleepily into Sam’s body, her warm skin feeling like heaven to you.

“You gotta admit, is’ fun though.”

Sam just snorted, bringing your body closer to hers as you every so slowly drifted off to sleep in her arms, Sam following fairly quickly behind.

#sam kerr smutttt #sam kerr is daddy #sam kerr imagine #samantha may #sam kerr x reader #sam kerr #woso #woso community #marry me rn #pwp #woso smut #wlw smut #shameless smut #i love smut #smut

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kaleldobrev · 10 months

Text

Without Hesitation, Yes.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: After all these years, Dean finally asks you to marry him.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Cursing (3x)

Authors Note: Flashbacks in italics | I love me a good childhood friends to lovers story | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Dean had known you for as long as he could remember; first meeting you through Bobby. He had met you in the late eighties, when he couldn’t be more then 9 or 10 years old. Bobby introduced you as his daughter – not biological, adopted; but he still considered you his blood nonetheless. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he felt an instant connection to you; the two of you becoming partners in crime very soon after your first meeting. Even when him, Sammy, and his dad were on the road, he still made sure to keep in contact with you, telling you everything and anything. He would tell you how gross the motel room was that they were staying at, the diners that they would stop at on the way to their next case, and even about their current case – sometimes asking you for your input.

Although Bobby was your adoptive father and you would help him do research for cases every now and then, he had never actually wanted the hunting life for you. But not being in the life was never an option for you; it was something that you had always wanted to do. So, when Dean Winchester showed up on your doorstep in October 2005 saying that his dad was missing and needed your help, you dropped everything, packed a bag and left; even though your father didn’t want you to go. He was mad at you for leaving, but understood that it was something that you needed to do; not only because the Winchester’s were like family, but because he could see the way you and Dean looked at each other – something that he tried so hard to prevent.

For as long as Dean could remember, he always felt something for you; but he never fully knew what that feeling was. He was between three different options for a while: he actually had a crush on you, he only had a crush on you because Bobby told him “Don’t even think about it boy” or he only had a crush on you because you were the most consistent woman in his life. One of the first moments he began to try and pinpoint which of the three it was, took place when the two of you were teenagers. Everyone was sleeping and it was just the two of you up. You had somehow convinced him to watch one of your favorite movies Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Even though it wasn’t his thing, he didn’t mind watching it with you because he had thought that Kristy Swanson was hot – but he didn’t dare tell you that. He had remembered how the two of you snuck downstairs to watch it, the two of you making popcorn and grabbing two sodas from the fridge. Dean remembered how engrossed you were when watching it, sometimes quoting from it or even acting out some of the scenes. He could still remember something that you said to him, even though it had been more than 20 years. “When I grow up, I wanna be just like Buffy.” For some reason, you saying that had brought a smile to his face.

There were a few instances in his life when he had planned on telling you how he truly felt about you before the two of you had started dating. But each and every time he had thought about telling you, he would back out, because he didn’t want to ruin one of his longest friendships. Before he went to Hell, he almost broke and told you, but he told himself that there was no way he could do that do you despite the fact that he knew that he was never going to see you again. The last thing he wanted was to tell you that he loved you and then die, and now you had to spend the rest of your life wondering, “What if?” A few years later right before he was going to say yes to Michael, that is when he decided he was going to do it. He had no idea why he had thought that was the moment, but his feelings for you just poured out of him like a dam that had burst. “I’ve loved you for a long time Sweetheart. Ever since we were kids. There are so many times when I’ve wanted to tell you how I felt but…I didn’t want to ruin the friendship that we had. I…I didn’t want to lose you.” For a moment he had thought that you wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings but to his surprise you did. “Took you long enough you idjit.” You told him, kissing him soon after that. “After I go into the pit, I want the two of you to have a normal apple pie, white picket fence life together. Do the whole nine. Marriage, kids, PTA meetings. All of it.” Sam had made the both of you promise. The two of you did have some sense of normalcy for the year – the best you could anyway, but kids, marriage, and definitely PTA meetings weren’t on the table at that moment. Someday though maybe.

Dean loved you more than anything or anyone. You were his best friend, his favorite person, the one that he could always count on; and most importantly: the love of his life. He never thought he would ever get the chance to ever call someone that: the love of his life. He had only heard the term once or twice during his life, mainly hearing it from Bobby and his father. Over the years, Dean had thought that he was in love before, but it wasn’t until he had a relationship with you that he truly would know what being in love actually felt like. The other times he had thought he was, he was in love with the idea of the person, in love with the idea of being in their world – a world that he knew he didn’t belong in. With you, it was different; effortless. He didn’t have to hide any aspect of himself in order to please you. You weren’t afraid of him, even when he was afraid of himself at times.

There was a part of him that knew that he didn’t deserve you – you weren’t as broken as he was. Yes, you had lost just as much as he had, but you were somehow stronger than he could ever be; which is one of the things that he admired most about you. When things got tough, he would hid behind a bottle of Jack and a mountain of self-loathing and sarcasm. Meanwhile, you continued to carry your head high and carry on like it was just another Tuesday with the boys or just another case. The only time he had ever seen you completely break is when Bobby died.

A few weeks before his insanely close near-death experience where he almost lost to a rusty rebar fighting vampires, he had went into town with Sam to go and get you an engagement ring. Even though he knew the type of jewelry that you liked, getting you an engagement ring was a completely different story. He went back and forth for hours trying to find you the perfect ring. “Dude, just pick something. She’ll love whatever you get her.” Sam had told him. It was in that moment that Dean’s eyes landed on one that he knew that you would absolutely love. “I’ll take that one.” Dean said, pointing at the ring in the case.

A month has gone by after his close near-death experience, and proposing to you is something that he no longer wanted to put off. He didn’t want to spend another day, another hour, another minute without seeing this ring on your finger. You had told him once a while ago that you didn’t need an engagement ring; that all he had to do was ask you to marry him and then the two of you could go to the nearest courthouse that same day. He truly loved the thought; but he had wanted to do something more for you than that.

Dean held the ring in his hands and couldn’t wait to give it to you. The only problem that he was currently having though, was trying to figure out exactly what he was going to say to you. “Still trying to come up with a speech there Romeo?” Sam said, his voice sounding a bit amused.

Dean eyed him, placing the ring down on the kitchen table. “I have no freaking clue what I’m going to say to her.” He admitted. “I don’t want it to be a chick flick moment, but I don’t want it to sound too generic either.” For the past several days, Dean has been trying to come up with a good proposal speech for you, but each and every time he thought that he had something, it simply just left him. Yesterday, he had even started writing the speech down, but kept crossing out everything that he wrote because he hated the way it looked and sounded.

“Word of advice? As someone who was going to propose…” Sam sighed a little at the memory; still briefly remembering exactly what he was planning on saying to Jessica. “Just be honest. Tell her…tell her all the things you love about her. Why you fell for her in the first place. You know things like that.”

“I said no chick flick moments Sam.” Dean picked up the ring again and started spinning it around on the table, momentarily forgetting that the ring before him was a couple grand and not something he just picked up at the Gas n’ Sip down the road.

“Then don’t make it one.” Sam walked over to Dean and placed his hand on his shoulder. “She’ll love whatever you say to her. I mean, she’s stuck with your dumbass this far. Nothing you can say now will make her run.” Sam gave him a smirk, and Dean just rolled his eyes.

“Bitch.” Dean said.

“Jerk.” Sam replied.

You were doing what you normally did on a Sunday morning – doing some yoga in the Bunker gym. Ever since you and the boys had made the Bunker your home, you had found yourself attracted to yoga; something that you initially didn’t like until recently. Bobby had tried to get you into it – weirdly enough; saying that it would be good for you. You had told him that you would only do it if he did it with you. “I already get pedicures with you, I ain’t doing yoga too.” He said.

As your eyes were closed and you were currently in Lotus position you heard a small knock on the door frame of the gym. You opened your eyes and a huge smile sprawled across your lips. “Hey you.” You said, your voice calm.

“Hey beautiful.” Dean replied, walking into the gym with you. He pointed to the spot in front of you. “Can I join you?” You were slightly surprised. You had tried to get Dean to do yoga for a while, but he always said that it wasn’t really his thing – he left the yoga portion of the workouts to you and Sam.

“I thought you’d never ask.” You scooted back a bit, giving him just a little bit of room so he wasn’t so close to the door.

Dean sat down in front of you, trying his best to get in the same position as you were currently in. Fuck I’m old. He thought to himself as he crossed his legs, feeling just a little bit of pressure in his knees. “You don’t have to sit like that if you don’t want to my love.” You told him. “I’m happy to just have you sitting here with me.” Your comment sincere.

“I uh, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Dean’s sentence made your heart jump. Not only because of the abruptness of it, but because it sounded like a ‘We need to talk’ conversation. Conversations like these were never your favorite – Hell, you didn’t know anyone who had liked these types of conversations.

“What’s up?” You asked, trying your best not to sound nervous while replying.

“Don’t worry. It’s…it’s nothing bad.” Dean reassured you. “Um…Well, it could be. But…I personally don’t think it is. So, I’m hoping you won’t think it’s bad either.” He sounded like a school boy trying to talk to his crush for the first time; you found it adorable. “Do you, do you remember when we were kids and Bobby would always buy you these ring pops from the store?”

“Yeah…Why?” Of course you had remembered. “One day I want a ring this big!” You told Bobby. “Not if you marry a hunter you won’t.” Bobby laughed.

“I remember, I don’t know if you do but, I remember when we were like…I don’t know, ten? The two of us were playing upstairs in your room and I took the ring pop and put it on your finger and I asked you to marry me. And without any kind of hesitation you said yes.” Dean started smiling from the memory. “Oh Dean! Of course I will! Why wouldn’t I want to marry my best friend?” You said. “You then ran out of your room, leaving my ass behind and ran all the way downstairs where you told Bobby and my dad that I had asked you to marry me. “Look daddy! Uncle John! Dean asked me to marry him! We’re gonna get married!” Bobby had told you years later, “I knew you and that idjit were gonna fall in love. I saw it when you were youngins.”

“Dean –” You began.

“Y/N.” Dean positioned himself so he was now sitting on both of his knees, holding both of your hands in his. “I honestly don’t know what I would ever do without you. Out of everyone that I’ve known in my life, you have been the one consistent thing in it. You have always been by my side even when I know for a fact that I didn’t deserve it. A lot of days, especially in the beginning when we first got together, I didn’t think I deserved you. I thought that you deserved much more than someone like me. Someone that could provide you with the life that you deserve; a safe and quiet one, not one where you’re constantly running toward the things that want to kill you.” He let out a small chuckle. “But, I’ve realized over the years that…Sweetheart, we may not have the most conventional life but, we have each other, and that’s really all that matters.” He released one of your hands for a moment as he reached for something in his pocket. “Close your eyes for me.” Without hesitation you closed them. The second you did, you felt something being placed in your hands. “Okay. Open.” When you opened your eyes there was a red and black ring lying in your hand.

“Dean…” You looked down at the ring and then looked up at Dean, unsure of what to say. For the first time in your life you were utterly speechless. You got up, getting in the same position as Dean, holding the ring in your fingers. Placing your hands on Dean’s shoulder’s, you leaned in and kissed him. You felt his hands and arms pull you in close to him as he deepened the kiss between the two of you.

“Will you marry me Sweetheart?” He asked, once the kiss was broken.

Without hesitation, like you had done all those years ago you said, “Yes.”

#Dean Winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x reader #spn imagine #spn one shot #supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #spn #supernatural #reader insert #female reader

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couldyouimagine-that · 4 months

Text

I gotcha

Genre; Hurt/Comfort, the Fluffiest Fluff

Word Count; 1.0k

Warnings; Nothing I can think of, just reader feeling a bit unsteady and getting hugs and care from Dean.

Pairings; Dean Winchester x Reader

It's me, I'm alive! I've finally started watching Supernatural and I just. Love Dean so much. So, have some fluff and comfort!

Masterlist

You leaned back against a heavy oak table, a warm mug slowly cooling to your side. You felt a little unsteady within your mind, an uncomfortable feeling having settled in your stomach. There was no particular reason for it so far as you could tell. Nothing had happened, nothing was wrong (the latest world-ending crisis notwithstanding). You had been trying to talk yourself out of it for a while by this point, to explain away the feeling through rationalisation, but none of it was working. The length of time you had been hovering around the table was evidence enough of that.

With a sigh, you drummed your fingertips against the tabletop then pushed yourself to standing. You took a few steps to take a pointless glance out of the nearest window then turned to eye your mug. Finally, you decided you would have to do something other than just keep standing there. Maybe getting out of your head would be the best thing for you, you thought humourlessly. It was at that exact moment that a sudden flurry of activity arrived at the door. Dean and Sam bundled inside, one slamming the door shut whilst the other knocked into a table. Such an exaggerated groan of pain issued forth that you couldn’t help but smirk in spite of yourself.

The door from the hallway to the kitchen swung open as Sam made a beeline for the fridge. Dean followed, dropping a heavy duffle bag to the floor with a thud and swiping a beer from his brother’s hand as he straightened, completely unsuspecting. Dean flashed him a grin as he began complaining, hands spread in a gesture of come on.

“Sorry, Sammy. Too slow.” He appeared at the doorway to the room you had been deliberating in for you didn’t even know how long, his other hand poised to twist the cap off the beer bottle. “Hey, sweetheart,” Dean murmured, smile bleeding into his rich voice. Sam raised a hand in greeting behind his brother’s head, then announced he was heading off to watch the television.

“Hey, Dean.”

You felt a content warmth in your stomach at the sight of him, no matter how long you’d known each other. You walked straight over and slotted yourself beneath his outstretched arm, looping your arms around his waist and pressing your face to his chest. You felt rather than heard the chuckle rumble through him as he pressed his hand to the back of your neck and head, his other arm moving around your waist to hold you close. You raised your head when he pressed a gentle thumb beneath your jaw, leaning down to leave a lingering kiss against your lips.

The entire world seemed to fall away as you stared into his eyes, pressing yourself flat against him to get as close as you possibly could. When you finally looked away, it was to nose along the edge of his open flannel shirt, taking in great lungfuls of his familiar scent. His eyebrows drew a little closer together at your actions, knowing they usually meant something was wrong. Dean put his beer down on the nearest available surface so that he could wrap his arms around you properly. A great feeling of pride bloomed in his chest at the long, content sigh you gave as he pressed his arms against your lower back and over your shoulders. His lips found their way to the top of your head and your eyes closed at the feeling of his breath moving your hair.

Dean, infamous for making himself tough in a way that forbade him from talking about his feelings, understood your every unspoken word clearly. He began to relinquish his tight hold on you, the one he knew made you feel safe and secure, in favour of running his palms along your back. One eventually traced a path across your collarbone and up to the side of your face, gently cupping your cheek to encourage you to look up and meet his soft gaze.

“Anything you wanna tell me about?” It was asked in such a way that there was no pressure, no judgement. If he had thought you were hurt or in danger it would have been a different story, but he could clearly see you weren’t. You shook your head with a small smile and he ran his thumb over your cheekbone, his expression fond if not still slightly tinged with concern. He pushed that away though, for your sake, hoping you would find some strength in seeing his own. Suddenly sporting a wide grin, he reached down to hook his hands around the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, brightened by your own grin as your automatically wound your legs around his hips.

“What are you doing?!” You got out through your laughter, only for him to lightly swat your leg.

“No questions!” He whisper-yelled, but he was laughing too. In retaliation, he grabbed your by your ribs and threw you up over his shoulder, holding you there easily with an arm around your waist. You had no choice but to hang there, his shoulder digging into your stomach until he finally dropped your down onto your back. You found yourself on Dean’s bed where he soon joined you, laying on his back and pulling you towards him. You ended up half draped over him, propping yourself up on an elbow for a moment to give him a gentle kiss. He gave you a boyish grin as you remained there for a moment, before laying down on top of him.

Dean’s hands resumed their gentle tracing over your back, his head leaning against your own. Your incessant worrying had abated entirely, your mind blissfully calm and filled only with Dean. You placed a hand against his ribs, relaxing into the steady rise and fall of his chest, the regular beating of his heart.

“Just stay with me, darlin’,” he murmured, voice low and soft. “I gotcha.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean x reader #supernatural #spnfandom #spnfamily #spn fanfic #supernatural reader insert #spn dean #spn Sam #sam winchester

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fanfics-and-love · 1 year

Text

How Did Love Become So Violent?

Ghostface!Tara Carpenter x reader

Not my gif

Warning(s): ghostface!Tara, canon typical violence, mentions of death, mentions of blood, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of stitches

Word count: 5k words

Summary: A new ghostface has been terrorizing Woodsboro. After one of your friends is killed, you fear how close the killer might be. You could’ve never guessed Tara was the one behind everything

masterlist

Tara Carpenter had been a constant in your life ever since you had memory.

When you lost your first tooth, she helped you hide it underneath your pillow and slept with you, holding you so you wouldn’t be taken by the Tooth Fairy. When you broke your leg trying to skateboard at fourteen, she was there on the drive to the hospital, holding your hand and telling you everything was going to be okay. When you failed your math final and your father hit you for the first time, she was there, screaming at him and dragging you towards her house.

When everything else went to shit, Tara was there, next to you, helping you through it. So when murders began to happen again in Woodsboro, she was, of course, there.

You were staying at her house for the weekend, enjoying the calmness after so many days of chaos within the school walls. Another ghostface— god, you couldn’t believe it. People wouldn’t shut up about it either.

“Y/N,” Tara called from the kitchen. You muted the TV, turning to look at her. When she entered the room, she was smiling. “The popcorn’s almost ready.”

“Cool,” you said, getting up to grab two cans of soda from the fridge.

“Hope the movie’s ready when I get there,” Tara turned back towards the kitchen, humming as she stared at the microwave. She seemed happy— happier than usual. You could only assume it was because summer vacation was getting closer. She hated school.

“Wanna know what we're gonna watch?” You asked, setting a glass on the coffee table. Tara hated drinking soda directly from the can.

“What are you watching?” She said. She only stopped looking at you when the microwave beeped. She put the bag of popcorn out, and poured the content into a bowl.

“Just the news,” you said, raising your shoulders.

“Turn that off,” she said, walking towards the sofa. She set the popcorn down harsher than necessary, sitting beside you. “You know how you get with this stuff.”

You nodded, deciding to open the Netflix app on the TV. Tara was right— you hated the whole ghostface fiasco. If you had to be honest, it scared you to pieces, though you would never admit it out loud in fear people would call you a coward. You sometimes wished you could just move out of Woodsboro, its bloody history making your bones chill. But of course, you were still underage so leaving was not an option, and even if it was, that would mean leaving Tara.

You couldn’t leave her, not after she was abandoned by her father and her sister, and her mother became a drunk. You had promised it the night Tara ran to your house, crying as she told you that Sammy is gone. You had held her throughout the night, whispering in her ear that she wasn’t alone.

“I’m right here. I’m never going to leave you,” you had pulled away then, looking into her brown eyes, surrounded by red from all the crying. “We’ll always be together.”

Something had changed in her face then, something that had made you realize it wasn’t simple words— it was a promise. One you weren’t sure how far Tara would take it to make sure you kept it.

“Sorry if I was harsh,” Tara said, as you scrolled through the multiple movie options. You turned to look at her. “I’m— I didn’t mean it that way.”

“You weren’t harsh,” you said, leaving the remote on the sofa to grab her hand. You wrapped your arms around her left one, resting your head on her shoulder. “You’re right. I get really spooked by those things. I know you’re just trying to protect me.”

And it was true. Ever since you were kids, Tara had protected you. Once, when a group of children had pushed you off a swing, she had punched one straight on the nose, hard enough to make it bleed. She had them feigned regret, telling the mother of the kid she was swinging her hands around and he just ran into her fist. You had backed her up, and after a while the mother had given up and had left the two of you alone.

It got worse after her father left, and once her sister did as well… Tara changed. She was still sweet, and caring, and the best friend in the entire world, but sometimes she would get this look on her face when you declined hanging out with her, or when you talked about how cute that guy from the TV show you were watching was. You weren’t sure what exactly it was; if it really was anything at all and not just your mind playing tricks on you, but whatever it was, you hoped it never got worse.

“I am,” Tara said. She kissed you on the head. “I will always protect you.”

You hummed, eyes getting heavy. Tara was always so warm, it felt nice to rest against her.

“Oh! Titanic,” you said. You two alternated every movie night to have control over the movie choices; you would always pick the romances or the romcoms, and Tara would choose scary movies that always ended up with you screaming and hiding your face in Tara’s neck.

“You’re a hopeless romantic,” Tara said, laughing. She grabbed the popcorn and set it on her lap, leaning back against the sofa as you pressed play.

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

Wes Hicks was found dead the following day, stabbed through the heart and neck, the cut so fiercely that the killer had almost fractured the bones on his spine. He was the fourth victim, and the closest to your group of friends.

Wes’ mother, Judy, had woken you and Tara up that morning, eyes red as she frantically asked you to go to the police station. You had gotten into her car, confused; she had almost dragged you towards it, so fast that you were still wearing your pjs and Tara’s jacket— she had lent it to you after she saw you shaking in the morning breeze.

“I can’t believe Wes is dead,” Chad said. After the interrogations, you had gathered around with Tara, Amber, Mindy and her outside the police station.

“Me either,” you said.

Amber rolled her eyes when she saw you were crying. “Honey, don’t be a crybaby. He was a dork anyways.”

You looked taken back by her words. “Wes is— was a good person. Don’t talk about him like that.”

“What are you gonna do?” She asked, moving closer to you. “Stab me?”

“What the fuck, Amber?” Mindy said, pushing her away. “Stop acting like that. Our friend is dead.”

“And we might be next,” she said, raising her shoulders. “Who the fuck knows. He was the weakest one anyway.”

“Don’t say that,” you said, sharply. You knew deep down that if someone from your friend group were to die, it would be Wes, but that didn’t mean she had to be so cruel about it, especially when his mother was a few feet away, mourning him.

“Where were you last night?” Mindy asked, crossing her arms.

Amber looked at her, and then laughed. “In my fucking house, where else?” After a moment of silence, she crossed her arms as well, moving to be in front of Mindy. “And why the fuck are you asking me that?”

“You seem rather relaxed and almost happy that your supposed friend is dead,” Chad said. “You can’t blame us for asking.”

“Oh, but I can,” Amber said, in a soft voice. “Because I can also ask where you were, and where your girlfriend was.”

“Leave Liv out of this,” Chad said, walking towards the dark-haired woman.

“Maybe you are the killer,” Amber said, eying the twins. “You two; the brains,” she pointed towards Mindy, “and the muscle.”

“I was with Liv,” Chad said.

“And I was with Frances,” Mindy said, harshly.

Amber looked at you then. “And what about you?”

“I was with Tara the entire day,” you said, feeling uncomfortable under her stare. You hated that Tara was being surprisingly quiet and wasn’t defending you.

“How convenient,” Amber said, shaking her head. “Everyone but me has a perfect alibi.”

“Maybe it’s because you are the killer,” Mindy said.

“Fuck off,” Amber said. “I’m not. But…” she turned to look at you— no, right behind you. Something crossed Amber’s face then, and she laughed. “Oh, I know just who the person is,” she said. “I know exactly who the new ghostface is,” she chuckled, turning around.

“What?” Mindy asked, looking taken back by her sudden change. “Amber!”

“What?” Amber said, getting out her car keys. “Angry I figured it out before the queen of horror?”

Tara ran after Amber, stopping her. The three of you looked as they talked, and then Amber left pushing Tara away.

“What did she say?” Chad asked.

“I asked her to go to the police,” Tara said, putting an arm around your shoulders. “I told her if she knew something she should go tell Judy, so we can get justice over Wes, but she said she doesn’t fuck with the police. Whatever that means.”

“It means she’s lying,” Mindy said. “She doesn’t know who ghostface is, and is just trying to fuck with us.”

“I think so too,” Tara said. “I just hope ghostface didn’t hear her.”

“Should we tell Judy?” You asked, leaning into Tara’s body. “Maybe he’s heard and Amber is her next victim.”

The four of you went quiet. You looked around, noticing how many people were in the surroundings of the police station. It ought to be busy, considering what had just happened, but that could mean ghostface was around, watching you and choosing his next target. A chill went down your body, and you burrowed your body into Tara’s. She held you closer, feeling your uneasiness.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Tara said. You could feel the vibrations of her voice through her body. “Amber is just fucking with us, and Judy has enough to deal with already. Giving her a possible lead and it turning into Amber being an idiot…”

“It’d break her heart,” you said, understanding her reasoning. “You’re right. Besides, it’s not like ghostface would just be stalking us… right?”

“Yeah,” Mindy said. She too was looking around, taking in all the faces surrounding your group. Inconspicuously, she pulled out her phone and took photos of the people. “Just in case.”

“Good thinking,” you said, making Mindy smile.

“I say we go back home and wait until we know something else,” Chad said. He turned to look at you. “Your mom is still off on that business trip, right?” You nodded. After your father left, your mother got a job that required her to be away for long periods of time. It paid the bills, so you didn’t complain much. “Then go to Tara’s, or Tara goes to your house. Once Liv is done being interrogated, I’ll take her to our house,” he looked at Mindy, who nodded. “And tomorrow we gather around and try to figure out who this fucker is. But until then, no one goes anywhere alone.”

“What about Amber?” you asked.

“Her house has a dope security system,” Tara said. “She’s safer inside her house. We’ll text her later about tomorrow. Maybe she actually knows who’s ghostface.”

“I doubt it,” Mindy said, never once the one who was okay with losing.

“I doubt it as well,” Tara said. “But we won’t know until tomorrow. So today we do what Chad said. Got it?”

All of you nodded, but you still felt something gripping at the back of your throat. Something was off, something that Amber could have figured out, but what was it?

“Hey,” Tara said, opening the car door for you. “It’s going to be fine, okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, eyes staring straight ahead.

You could be the next victim. You could already see the headlines: Y/N Y/L/N, dead at 18. You looked over at Tara. She could be the next one.

“What?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. She closed the car door and locked it, turning once again to look at you. “What is it, baby?”

You felt tears in your eyes. “Don’t leave me.”

“I would never leave you,” Tara said, cradling your face in her hands. “Never, okay?”

“What if you’re the next one?” You asked. You could almost see it; Tara, laying breathless on the ground, blood slowly clogging around stab wounds. “I— I don’t want you to die. Please. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered. “And nothing is going to happen to me, okay? I’m going to be with you all day, and then we’ll take down that asshole together.”

“Please, don’t die,” you begged, grabbing her by her shirt. “Please.”

“I won’t,” she said. You couldn’t believe how sure she sounded.

You shook your head, and without stopping to think of the consequences, you cut the distance between your lips. Tara responded automatically, grabbing your neck and deepening the kiss. After a moment of just enjoying her close to you, you pulled away. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow,” she said. She was still holding you by the neck. “Where did that come from?” She whispered. Her breath hit your lips, and you licked them, looking into her eyes.

“I— I’m not sure,” you said. You rubbed your nose against her, making her laugh softly. “I didn’t want one of us to die without doing this.”

“We’re not going to die,” she said. “Scratch that. I must’ve died and gone to heaven, because this is all I ever wanted.”

“Really?” You asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I think I’ve been in love with you my entire life.”

You chuckled, pulling away to caress her cheek. “If we make it—”

“We will.”

“If we make it,” you said, giving her a hard look. She laughed, moving her hand towards your hair, scratching your scalp softly. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

She smiled, lips stretching almost painfully. You couldn’t help yourself from kissing her again, teeth crashing into each other as you laughed. You had been wanting to kiss her for ages, and it had taken a new ghostface for you to gather up your courage.

A new ghostface. Wes, dead. And here you were, kissing and laughing with Tara. It felt like a dishonor to his memory.

“What is it?” Tara asked, noticing how your face had dropped.

“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” you whispered, blinking at the new tears that were trying to escape. “He was alive just yesterday, talking and laughing… it’s not fair.”

“It isn’t,” Tara agreed, resting a hand on your thigh. “But we’re going to figure it out, alright? And you’re going to be just fine.”

You chuckled. “You can’t promise that, Tara. Not when there’s a killer on the loose.”

Tara smiled then, and something in the back of your mind screamed at the sight; that wasn’t her normal smile, the one she had just given you after the kiss. It was gone the next second, when she reached over the console to kiss you on the cheek, and you smiled softly at the gesture. God, this whole mess was driving you crazy.

“You’re safe,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

You woke up in the middle of the night, hearing a noise somewhere in the house. You sat up in Tara’s bed, reaching for her side of the bed.

Empty.

You had spent the entire day with her, laughing and stealing kisses. She had ordered chinese and had let you put on one of your favorite comedies to make sure your mind stayed away from Wes. She had even made you lasagna, even though she always complained about how dragging it was to make it all for it to end up tasting like feet, and you had fallen asleep shortly after, the taste of her mother’s wine still on your lips as you kissed her goodnight.

“Tara?” You asked, rubbing your eyes. Your head hurt as you got up, going to the bathroom. She wasn’t there either. You walked back to the bedroom as quietly as possible, grabbing your phone. You turned on the flashlight and, after a moment where you took a deep breath and gathered some courage, you walked downstairs.

You walked into the kitchen, thinking maybe Tara had gone there for a glass of water. Instead, you found it empty. You turned on the light and tried calling Tara, but it went straight to voicemail.

Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong.

You grabbed a knife and turned around, looking at the place. It seemed empty, but was it? Had ghostface somehow gotten inside the house? Had Tara gone to check out some noise, just like you were doing now, and ghostface had killed her?

“Tara?” You asked in a whisper, rushing to turn on the lights of the living room.

Nothing. You looked behind the sofa, and the closet beside the front door where Tara kept all her coats. Nothing. You made sure the front door was closed, and then ran towards the dining room. Nothing. Nothing.

Where the hell was Tara?

You decided to check the bedrooms upstairs, and moved towards the kitchen to grab a bigger knife. Before you could, a hand covered your mouth and dragged you back to the living room, turning off the lights as they went. You tried to scream, and even bite off the hand, but they were wearing thick gloves that all it did was make your jaw hurt.

“Shh. I’m not going to hurt you,” you heard that disgusting modulated voice, and tears began to fall.

Ghostface was going to kill you. Ghostface had killed Tara, and she was probably laying in one of the guest rooms upstairs, her blood staining the carpet.

Once he let you go, you turned around, ready to stab him right in the chest. But he was faster, grabbing your hand and twisting it until you dropped the knife. You gasped, feeling tears as you saw your only lifeline fall to the ground in front of your eyes.

You were dead. All he had to do now was raise his knife and—

He did raise his hand, but it was empty. He grabbed your face, caressing your cheek. The material of the glove was surprisingly soft against your skin.

“Fuck you,” you said, trying to punch him in the face. He grabbed your other hand, and pushed you towards his body. The warmth felt familiar, and the smell… no, it couldn’t be.

You looked in complete shock as ghostface raised his hand and took off his mask.

Your knees almost gave in when you looked into Tara’s eyes.

No. No. No fucking way. This had to be a nightmare. Tara wouldn’t…

She wouldn’t, would she?

“Baby,” Tara whispered, dropping the mask to the ground. She stepped towards you, but you immediately moved away as you shook your head. It couldn’t be.

“You’re pranking me,” you said, voice shaky. “You— it can’t be.”

“Baby, let me explain,” she said. Though the awful mask was on the ground, she was still wearing the black robe. It made her look terrifying against the darkness, almost as if she was a flying head.

“Explain?” You asked, putting even more distance between the two of you. “You’re— you’re ghostface?”

“Yes,” Tara said. She was starting to look desperate, and you didn’t want to know what she would do then.

Would she kill you, just like she had killed Wes and those other three students? Were you her next victim? Was what had happened today all a lie, a way to get you to lower your defenses? If you hadn’t woken up, would she have stabbed you in your sleep?

“God,” you said. The tears were falling too fast now. You could barely breathe.

“Baby, listen to me,” Tara was begging. She wanted to get close to you so she could kill you? You looked at her hands, raised in surrender. Where was she keeping her knife? “Please, just let me explain.”

“You’re going to kill me,” you said, crying.

“No!” She said, in a rush. She frantically shook her head, walking all the way until she had you in her arms. You tried not to shake. “Baby, Y/N— please, look at me. Please.”

Her left hand grabbed your chin, guiding your face until you had no choice but to look at her. “Tara, how could you?” Her gloves felt wet, and you touched your chin, looking to see your fingers bloody. “God. God, Tara. This is blood.”

“It’s not mine,” she said, cursing to herself as she took off the gloves. Stupid, she should’ve taken them off before touching you.

“Whose is it?” You asked, drying your hand on your shirt. “Fucking tell me!” You pushed at her chest, hating how much she was prolonging it. You just wanted her to kill you so you could be over this panic.

“Amber’s.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the name. So she knew— she had figured out Tara was the killer, and that had gotten her killed. You couldn’t believe what was happening.

“What?”

“When she said she knew who the killer was,” Tara said, once again moving towards you. “I ran to her and told her we’d talk at night,” she was soft as she grabbed your hands. It felt nice to finally feel her skin on yours. “She said yes, because she wanted to be part of it. The fucking hero who will bring the Stab movies back from it’s fall from grace,” you swallowed hard, trying not to picture Tara stabbing Amber. “I put sleeping pills on the wine,” your breath was momentarily stuck in your throat; so that was why she had declined the glass you had offered her. “So you would fall asleep fast. That way I could go talk to get and not implicate you. It was to keep you safe, and out of this.”

“Jesus Christ,” you rubbed your forehead. Now it made sense why your head had hurt so much when you had woken up. It was a wonder you were even awake now, which was probably why she had been more careless moving around the house and making noises.

“ I was just going to talk to her. I swear. I didn’t want to kill her,” she sounded desperate as she grabbed your cheeks, making you look at her. “She kept the back door open, and I got in. I had the ghostface costume on my back because I knew she’d want to see it. And she did. God, her eyes…” she shook her head. “She was delighted when I told her how I killed Wes, and those three other boys.” Those three other boys who had asked you out this past year, you completed the sentence. How could you have been so stupid to not connect everything before? It all pointed towards you, which in turn pointed towards Tara. “But then,” Tara said. “But then she started to talk about my sister, and—” she shook her head. “That doesn’t matter. We were going to arrange an attack on her, to eliminate her as a suspect, and then one on me. But I knew the more she talked, that she was planning on killing you. Her movie could only have two survivors. I knew it, and she knew it. I couldn’t allow it. So I went into the bathroom while she was typing on her computer with a smile on her face and put on the mask and the robe, and then I killed her. She couldn’t kill you.”

“Why?” You asked, trying not to notice Tara’s fingers gently drying your tears. “Because I’m yours to kill?”

“No!” Tara said. “You— no. Please, don’t ever say that,” the desperation in her voice surprised you. “Please. No. Never. I will never let anyone hurt you, not even myself. I will never hurt you.”

“Tara, you’re a murderer,” you said, blinking rapidly. You refused to cry anymore. You were too angry to shed any more tears. “You fucking killed Wes!”

“Because he was going to steal you,” Tara said. Her eyes were wide open; it made her look terrifying, so different from the girl you’ve known for so long. “He was in love with you. I heard him talk with Chad, saying how he wanted to ask you on a date. I couldn’t let him do it.”

“God, Tara…” you closed your eyes, letting your head fall towards the wall. You weren’t even sure when she had cornered you, but it made your heart beat faster when you realized you had nowhere else to go. “You… you’re crazy. Like clinically sick in the head. Mental asylum type of way.”

“You drive me crazy,” she whispered, her lips hovering over yours. You put your hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. “I did all of this for you. So we could be together.”

“Tara—”

“We have to be together,” she said. “Don’t you see? It’s always been you and I. My father left, my sister left, my mother doesn’t even look my way on the rare occasion she’s home… but you have never left me, because you’re my constant. I can’t let anyone take you away from me. I’d go crazy without you.”

“And this is not crazy?” You asked, fisting her robe harshly. You couldn’t help but remember just that morning, when you had grabbed her shirt the same way to push her towards you. The memory tasted bittersweet now, tainted by her recent actions.

“This is me making sure things stay the same,” Tara said. Her nose caressed your neck, and you let her. Your body was completely petrified. “We’ve been so good lately. You even kissed me today. You want to be my girlfriend. You asked me on a date.”

“That was before,” You said, shaking your head.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she said, desperate. “I’m still the same person I was this morning.”

“I thought I knew you,” you said in a whisper. “I thought… I thought we were in this together. I didn’t know you were a fucking killer.”

Tara swallowed, tears in her eyes. “Please,” she said, hands on your hands. “Please, please. Y/N, please. Don’t leave me.”

“Tara…”

“I’ll beg until my throat is raw. I’ll beg on my knees— do you want me to get on my knees and ask you for forgiveness? I will right now. I’ll do whatever you want.”

You rushed to grab her forearms when you saw her beginning to lower herself onto the ground. “Don’t do that,” you said through gritted teeth. “Get up. Jesus.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, straightening her back. “Please. You’re all I have. I did this for you— for us. I don’t know what’s gonna happen to me if you leave.”

“For fuck’s sake…” This was too much. You looked down, and saw her hands were shaking. Her eyes were full of fear, so profound you couldn’t stop yourself from hugging her. She immediately relaxed into your body, head pressed against your neck as she sobbed.

“I did this for us. Don’t leave me,” she whispered over and over, as you ran your hands through her back.

You were reminded of the night her sister left. You had held her just like this, and she had shaken the same way as she cried. What would happen if you packed your bags and left, just like you had been planning in your mind ever since she had removed that mask? Something horrible, even compared to those four kills.

You didn’t want to know what would happen. It made your skin crawl with fear.

“It’s okay,” you whispered.

She felt small in your arms, opposite to how she usually acted— like the oldest, the strongest, unable to feel any fear or pain as she let you rely on her. She had always tried to be strong for you, with the exception of now; and that time when she was a little kid and had scraped her knee, so hard she had needed two stitches. You had hugged her as she shook in pain, waiting for your mom to pull out the car so she could take her to the hospital.

“Don’t go,” she begged. It was hard to imagine this same girl that was clutching onto you killing people emotionlessly. It was hard to see her as anything but your Tara.

“I won’t,” you whispered, running your hand through her hair. “I won’t leave you.”

“You won’t?” She asked, pulling away to look at you. You sighed, drying her tears.

“I won’t,” you said, hating how your loyalty towards her was stronger than your moral compass. But this was Tara, a girl who loved you, and a girl that would be dangerous if you weren’t there to stop her. “But you have to promise you won’t kill anyone else.”

She hesitated, eyes looking at the ground. You wondered if she was too far gone to live without killing now she had gotten a taste for it.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to find out.

“I promise.”

And deep down, you knew she was lying. But you still allowed her to grab your neck and kiss you. Her lips were just as soft as when you kissed her for the first time.

You weren’t sure if you had made the right choice.

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