izzy

MEET… COWBOY!CLARK.

mud on his boots and straw stuck to his flannel. sunburn on his neck, tan lines on his wrists where his watch used to be. hat tilted low, brim frayed from years of work. smells like cedarwood soap and hay. dimples that shows when he laughs. a laugh that shakes the dust off the porch rail. knuckles rough, palms warm, always brushing dirt from your cheek. keeps a photo of you tucked in his wallet. flannel shirts that smell faintly of smoke from the firepit.

hums old country songs when he thinks no one’s listening. fixes the screen door but leaves the creak in because you said it sounds like home. reads the newspaper every morning with black coffee. carries your hair tie on his wrist, a quiet little habit. cowboy hat on the bedpost. boots by the door. wedding ring catching morning light as he ties his horse’s reins. kisses that taste like honey.

part one: paradise is a hell-colored flame sky

read on ao3

MDNI (18+)

pairing: dean winchester/fem angel!reader

summary: Ever since coming to Earth, you've found yourself drawn to Dean Winchester. You know it's wrong, but you can't help yourself.

warnings: smut, oral sex (fem receiving), spit kink, pet names (angel), religious guilt, corruption kink

word count: 2.5k

a/n: im very new to writing and constructive criticism is appreciated!! this will be two parts and i will try update soon but i have a very busy week ahead of me

Dean Winchester was your greatest weakness.

You had been sitting in your shitty motel room, waiting for Sam to come back with dinner. The boys had chosen a separate room than you, leaving you alone and bored out of your mind. You hated being left alone by them. It made you feel unproductive and useless. There are much better things you could be doing with your time than wasting away in a room with a stained ceiling and a lingering smell of smoke.

But of course, that wasn't all. As much as you hated to admit it, there was a deeper reason. It was in moments like these, when you were left alone by the brothers, that your mind would wander to places you preferred to stay away from. Places you had kept locked away since their manifestation during your first encounter with the older Winchester.

You weren’t stupid, you knew how sex worked, the basic concept of it. But you were still so new to these earthly experiences and, especially, these earthly desires, that you didn’t really get it. Didn't get why, since landing your feet on the new, exciting surface of this world, your mind had been plagued with these thoughts.

You were sitting on the couch, picking at the peeling upholstery, trying to ignore the images flashing in your brain and between your thighs, when Dean Winchester himself knocked on the door. You had seen him through the blinds and considered not letting him in. Without a doubt, his presence would worsen your already pathetic state. But then he made eye contact with you through the slightly fogged window, and you had no choice but to rise from your seat on the couch and invite him inside.

The conversation had started simple. Sat on the stained motel bed, you discussed how your days had gone, the case you were currently working on, and what Dean hoped would be brought back for dinner. Dean began rambling about something, but you didn’t remember what. You were so focused on the sounds he made with his mouth and the way it moved when he spoke that every word he said had gone over your head.

Your trance was broken when he spoke your name.

“Sorry,” you forced out. Your voice came out breathy and soft, a bit strained, and you could feel the burning shame immediately rising to your face while simultaneously sinking below your belt. God, what was happening to you?

“You seem distracted, angel,” Dean uttered, with a slight tease in his voice. It wasn’t uncommon for Dean to flirt with you, that's just who he was, yet still, that breathy, deep tone in his voice always got to you. You looked away, lowering your head in hopes he wouldn't notice the dusting of pink across your cheeks, and said nothing.

Your lack of response made Dean laugh. It wasn't a cruel laugh, but it still felt like he was teasing you. He had picked up on your interest in him before, and he seemed to find it amusing. Of course he did. It was as though he found your humiliation almost comedic in a way.

Somehow, you mustered up the courage to look back up at Dean, but you were unable to meet his eyes, instead focusing your gaze on his lips. Of course, at the time, you did not consider the implication of such an action, but it wasn’t missed by Dean.

“You're awfully quiet,” Dean said.

“I’m just thinking,” you muttered after a moment, your voice a bit shaky.

“Yeah? What about, angel?”

Your gaze shifted again, this time focusing on the wall over his shoulder. You swallowed, eyes locking with one of the boring motel paintings as you, once again, did not respond to him. You felt the pulsing ache between your thighs worsen and squeezed them together, almost involuntarily, hoping for some sort of relief, praying Dean wouldn't notice.

The slight shift of your weight alerted Dean’s gaze to your lap, and he let out a soft laugh. The teasing tone in his voice was lighter now, a bit softer. “Hey,” he spoke, “what are you doing, angel?”

You didn't say anything for a moment. Then, you met his eyes again, finally, and told the truth, “I don't really know.”

“You don't have to be embarrassed," Dean said.

“I don't know what's wrong with me.”

Dean responded immediately, genuine concern in his eyes and voice. “Nothing's wrong with you. Why would you think that?”

“I’m not supposed to feel like this." You looked away again, down at the dirty motel floor. “I shouldn't want things. Not like this. It feels wrong.” This conversation was becoming way more vulnerable than you’re sure either of you had originally intended, and you anxiously began to pick at a hole in your jeans. Dean noticed your nervous behavior, eyes still soft.

Dean was quiet for a moment before speaking your name, his tone careful. “Look at me.”

When you didn't look up, still picking at your jeans, he gently grabbed your wrist. Finally, you looked at him again. He shifted closer, his gaze still soft, still comforting, but now it was coated with something more serious.

“There is nothing wrong with you, angel. This,” he dropped his eyes to your thighs, still squeezed tight, “is completely normal.”

You swallowed, finally meeting his eyes again. Dean kept his hand on your wrist, thumb rubbing over it softly, as he shifted a bit closer, his knee bouncing against yours. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, before taking his hand off of your wrist and resting it on your thigh, leaning in to pepper soft kisses up your neck until he reached your mouth.

This was new. Very new. His lips were more than you had dreamed of, the softest brushes against your mouth. When his tongue pushed past your lips, even softer, you couldn't help but let out a whimper at the sensation. Dean’s other hand moved to your waist. You did your best to imitate his movements, but you were suddenly painfully aware of your own inexperience. Thoughts started rushing into your head. What if you were doing it wrong? What if he changes his mind?

However, your thoughts were quickly silenced when Dean began kissing down your neck again. His teeth grazed over your throat, and your breath hitched as you leaned your head to the side to give him more room. When he was satisfied with the marks left on your throat, he moved down to your shoulder. He used his teeth to snap the strap of your tank top against your skin before biting down on your collarbone.

His hands found their way to your waist, and he pulled you closer against him, continuing to leave little love bites on your chest. You pulled his head away so you could kiss him again, and he didn’t protest, one hand lifting to the back of your neck.

You leaned back, and Dean gently nudged you further down so you were lying against the bed. Kicking off his shoes, he crawled on top of you, careful not to put his entire weight on you, and kissed you again.

Dean rested his hands on your thighs, rubbing soft circles against them as he bit your lower lip. After a minute, his hands lifted to your waist and up your shirt. It seemed like he didn't want to push too far, but you were starting to get impatient. You wanted more. You reached down and pulled your shirt off, tossing it to the floor before pulling him down to kiss you again.

Dean began to shower your breasts with affection and kisses, cupping and biting at them. “Look at you,” he said. “So pretty.” He took one of your nipples into his mouth and rolled it between his teeth, smiling when he earned a gasp from you.

“You make such pretty sounds, angel,” Dean said, moving his lips to your ribs and stomach. He took his time, leaving gentle kisses and grazing his teeth over your skin just enough to make you gasp. One hand was still cupping your breast while the other rested on your waist. That hand moved to your thigh as he kissed down to your abdomen and the side of your hip.

Dean’s fingers toyed with the waistband of your jeans, and your hips instinctively lifted a little bit, impatient. “Are you sure, angel?” he asked, fingers hovering over the buttons of your jeans, and you nodded quickly. He unbuttoned them and slipped the denim off of your legs.

You suddenly realized how exposed you were and felt a hot wave of embarrassment rush to your chest and face. Dean seemed to enjoy how flustered you were, a smirk on his lips as he kissed up the side of your thigh at an agonizingly slow pace. Despite his teasing, he's touching and kissing you so gently it could almost be considered worshipful.

Since you were almost naked and Dean was still fully clothed, you tugged at the collar of his shirt, prompting him to pull away for just a moment to lift the shirt from his torso and toss it to the ground. He wasn’t gone for long, his lips attaching to your thighs just as quickly as they left. Your legs lifted over his shoulders, and he grabbed your hips to slowly pull you closer. His fingers massaged your waist as he bit down on the soft inner flesh of your thigh.

He pressed his lips against your pussy through the damp fabric of your panties, breathing in. “You're soaked.”

"Dean..." you whined, sick of his teasing. “Please.”

“Use your words, angel,” he whispered, leaving a soft kiss against the dewy barrier.

"I... I can't..." you whimpered. Every coherent thought was gone from your head, your mind completely blank, focused just on Dean.

“Aww, poor girl. Say ‘I want you to eat my pussy, Dean.’ Can you do that for me?” he said. Your head spun.

"I… I want… you to eat my pussy, Dean," you managed, the words foreign in your mouth. How could an angel like you say something so filthy? Dean loved it. He loved knowing that he was the first and only one to do this to you. This feeling was so new to you, and he loved to know that this was the first time you’d let someone touch you this way.

“What's the magic word?” Dean asked, gently tugging at your panties.

“Please,” you whispered, and Dean began to reverently slip your panties down your thighs, discarding them to the floor before lifting your legs over his shoulders once again. He kissed up your thigh and then finally pressed his lips between your legs, slowly licking through your cunt. You had never felt anything like this before, and you let out a squeaky noise that was incredibly embarrassing, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Dean attached himself to your pussy like you were his last meal. His arms stayed locked around your thighs, keeping you in place while he lapped at you, whining and sending vibrations through your body that made you shiver. The only breaks he took were to whisper soft praises against you.

“So pretty, angel,” he had said, the hum of his voice making you squirm. “You're doing so good.”

He spat against you, then licked it up as one hand left your thigh. He pushed one finger inside you, then another, his lips still attacking your clit. You let out a cry at the stretch.

“Shhh, angel. You're okay,” Dean whispered, pumping and curling his fingers, worshipping your pussy.

You felt heat pooling in your stomach, and Dean doubled his efforts, pressing wet kisses against your clit and massaging that sweet spot inside of you. Finally, your orgasm crashed over you, a tidal wave of white-hot sweetness. Your eyes squeezed shut, fists clenching as your hips raised from the bed. The noise that left you was fucking filthy and went straight to Dean's cock. Dean kept a tight grip on one of your thighs with his free hand, pushing it back down against the bed, continuing his assault even after you came.

Your legs were still shaking from your last orgasm as Dean continued to leave open-mouthed kisses between your legs, soothing your clit with his tongue while his fingers fucked into you. Despite your sensitivity, Dean’s pace never slowed. As you squirmed and twitched, Dean tightened his grip on your hip and pulled you back against his mouth.

Your second orgasm was even harder than the first. Bursts of pleasure rippled through your body as you called out Dean’s name. Finally, he slowed down and eventually stopped.

He pressed one last kiss to your clit, earning a jump from you, before kissing back up your abdomen and chest until he reached your lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue, salty and wet.

Finally, he pulled back to look at you. Your hair was splayed out against the pillow, cheeks flushed and lips red from kissing, hickeys decorating your neck and chest. He loved how you looked right now, all messy because of him.

“Open your mouth for me, angel,” he commanded, his voice gentle. You obeyed without question. You would do anything after how he just made you feel. He spit in your mouth, and you let it drip down your tongue before swallowing.

Dean lowered himself down next to you, hands soothing your trembling thighs as he pulled your back against his chest.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, pressing kisses into your hair and the back of your neck. You quickly nodded, still breathless as you spoke. Dean’s breath tickled the back of your neck, and you let out a soft hum as he pulled you closer.

After your body settled down and stopped shivering, the reality of what you had done slapped you in the face. Guilt wrapped around you like a heavy chain, and you felt nauseous.

Of course you had let Dean do this. Since you met him, he had been corrupting you like this. He had gotten you drunk for the first time while you two sat under the stars on the roof of the impala. He had taught you about porn and cigarettes and masturbation. He was always telling you things you really didn't need to know, just to see the shocked, innocent little look on your pretty face.

You were mad at yourself, and you were especially mad at him for letting you ruin yourself like this.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Sam’s voice sounded through the door, slightly muffled. “I’m back! Have you seen Dean? He’s not in our room.”

“I’m here, Sammy. We’ll be right out," Dean called out. You wanted to scream or slap that smug grin off of his face. You quickly stood up, grabbing your clothes.

LATE NIGHT WORRIES ━━╋━　 dad!clark, established relationship, domestic fluff, kisses, brief mention of birth, clark being a big softie...

you see the worry behind clarks eyes.

even if everything had been perfect the last few months after you gave birth. the labor went fine, you were safe and healthy, the baby was beautiful. clark always said she had your eyes even if she barely opened them.

but it's another late night, you're both lingering over the crib in the dim corner of your room looking down at the tiny, sleeping angel. he's got his hands grasped at the rail leaning closer, his eyes stuck on the slow rise and fall of her little chest, you're not sure he's even breathing. its a perfect moment, domestic bliss at its finest.

clark glances over you, how you're watching him, how you know somethings wrong just from his clenched jaw and soft eyes. he knows you know.

he steps over to you smiling all gentle and sweet, coming up from behind and pulling his arms around your middle holding you softly so you feel the hard of his body behind you. always solid and dependable. his chest pressed against your back and you swear you can feel his heart beating, even hear it in the silence of the room.

he presses a kiss to your cheek, leaning his head just right, then another in the crook of your neck.

"clark whats wrong…?", you whisper out softly leaning into him, breaking the silence. a heavy sigh leaves his lips.

"noth—", he swallows quietly, letting a beat pass as he furrows his brow letting his nose run over the smooth skin along your neck.

"i just— i worry sweetheart—"

he sighs hiding his face in your hair, taking in the sweet smell of your shampoo. you reach a hand back into his hair, stroking through his dark curls soothingly, nodding at his words, silently urging him to continue.

"she's so small 'n the world's so big s'all…"

his words squeeze at your heart, clark was already the softest man on earth and somehow he was only getting softer with your daughter around.

"she'll be brave— just like you clark.", you whisper back quietly, scratching the back of his neck gently.

clark smiles at that. presses a long kiss to your shoulder, looking down at your baby with your head tucked under his chin as he hums into your hair, pulling you just a little closer to him. it was like the room radiated a comfortable warmth, safe and sweet from the rest of the world.

"you're perfect— both of you—"

"and you're not?", you hum out a little laugh, quiet as ever letting your smaller hands run over his skin.

it's so, so quiet. you feel clarks breath warm the back of your neck, you feel him shift before he speaks, whispering all soft and uneasy, almost ashamed.

"you think i'm any good at this…?"

"clark—", you tense a little before turning to him already knowing exactly what he meant. your hands make there way to his face, with your thumbs soothing over his cheeks, he's got that little frown with his brows furrowing together. he's putty in your hands, practically melting into your touch.

you shake your head holding back a scoff, almost laughing at how absurd the thought of clark kent being a bad father would be.

"don't say things like that—"

"you're the best— you're literally to good for this world—"

clark lips curled upward, not necessarily at your words but at how much you clearly meant them. you let his arms curl around you, let his lips press against yours, you let him smother you with the heavy blanket of his love.

"thanks sweetheart…"

“Let me tell you how much I’ve come to hate you since I’ve began to live„

‘Hide me there, under the leaves’

@tankhall

I’ll never be that kind of angel

I’ll never be kind enough to me.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

One year ago today, Ethel Cain released Fuck Me Eyes.

i dont even know if the audience for this exists but i had to do it

dean x f!reader . fluff + nsfw . mdni (18+)!!!!

author's note: i am very new to writing pls bear with me!!!!

.✦ ݁˖ dean loooves to take you on late night drives, just you and him. his hand rests on your thigh or on the back of your neck, and he can't stop stealing little glances at his girl. you turn up the volume dial as your favorite upbeat pop song starts to play on the radio. dean scoffs, "seriously, baby?"... but he doesn't change it.

.✦ ݁˖ when you guys stop at rest stops, dean spoils you with whatever snacks and drinks you want. you don't even ask him, he just hands you some money and tells you to go pick something out. even if you dont get out of the car, he'll always emerge carrying your favorites.

.✦ ݁˖ dean loves fucking you anywhere, but especially in the impala. he likes to have you on his lap in the drivers seat, so he can watch as you grip onto the headrest, riding him, your lips parted as he spills inside of you. after, he'll crawl on top of you in the backseat, his head finding its way between your legs, licking up every bit of his release so it doesn't drip all over the seats.

.✦ ݁˖ even when you're not in the car with him, dean's mind is always on you. you'll get out of the shower to find that he's gone and has texted you.

"Left to go get some lunch. Miss you already"

"Can't wait to kiss you when I get back"