🫧

your romance hadn’t started right away. in the beginning, bob was in too fragile of a state to even entertain the idea of falling in love with someone. you, as well, weren’t ready for such a thing. instead, a friendship blossomed between you. something sweet and delicate, soft and light, like the petals of a rose. you spent time together as you adapted to life in the recently renovated avengers tower. at first, the place had felt cold and sterile, but together, the team had made it into a home. nicknacks and various odds and ends littered each surface. different posters decorated the walls. special touches left by each person. and along with that, came the feeling of home. a comfortable sort of warmth that settled upon your shoulders like a cozy blanket.

you weren’t sure when you started falling for robert. but it happened. gradually. as the tower started to feel more like home, so did he. you began spending more time together. enjoying little moments of peace. reading books together. sitting beside each other at dinner. exchanging shy glances in passing in the halls. and then came the movie nights. in which you would often find yourself curled against his side, warm and content. over time, this turned into shy touches. quiet whispers of “is this okay?” as you slid your hand into his own. and he would nod and smile, and say “it’s perfect.” because it was. you were the only one whose hand he could hold, without being transported into your darkest moment. perhaps it was because, in your presence, the darkness hid. it was still there, to some extent, because it would always be part of him. but it seemed that the light you brought into his life was enough to keep it at bay, if only for a little while.

and because you were the only one who could touch him fully, without fear of reliving unspeakable trauma, he found himself seeking it out more. linking your pinkies beneath the dinner table. sitting knee to knee on the floor as you built lego sets or worked on puzzles together. bumping shoulders as you walked side by side. those touches soon turned into something more deliberate. and as your love for one another progressed, so did your need. shy hand holding gave way to kissing. kissing gave way to lazily making out on the couch after everyone else had gone to bed. making out gave way to a sudden, desperate grinding against each other, fully clothed. things escalated until neither of you could resist stumbling into bed together for a session of tender, shy, giggly lovemaking. and that lit an insatiable fire in bob. he wanted more, more, more.

and you gave it to him. exploring each other’s bodies by the light of the moon shining in through your window. tasting, moaning, moving together as one. learning how the other ticked. what elicited the prettiest sounds, and delicious shivers, and quite pleas for more. and along with that came discovering what kinks you shared. including that of hair pulling. it was an accident at first. an action taken in the heat of the moment, as you straddled him in bed, hurriedly rolling your hips against his, cock seated deeply inside you. your mouths moved lazily against each other, whines and gasps mingling. your hands were tangled in his curls, and as you neared your peak, you involuntarily tugged on the roots. and to your utter amazement, bob squealed in surprise against your mouth, eyes rolling back in his head, and seconds later, you felt it. sticky warmth seeped into the deepest part of you, his cock pulsing as he pumped you full.

he buried his face against the side of your neck as he fell apart, and as he came down, he tensed beneath you. “oh…oh my god,” he whispered hoarsely. “oh no. i-i didn’t mean to do that, i—” but you knew he was seconds from rambling on, so you captured his mouth in a sweet kiss. “don’t you apologize. that was the hottest thing i’ve ever seen,” you admitted. his cheeks flushed red as he blinked up at you. “r-really?” as if he couldn’t believe you’d think such a thing. little did either of you know what you had just awakened. that moment led to many more, in which you would tug on his hair, just to test how he’d react. you’d do it when his head was between your legs, when he was on top of you, when you were riding him, so on and so forth. and he couldn’t get enough.

that was what led you to this very moment. this beautiful man kneeling reverently on the floor of your bedroom, eyes wide and earnest, gazing up at you as if you’d hung the moon and stars. you liked him like this. so willing to do anything you asked. so eager to please. “you’re my sweet boy, aren’t you?” you cooed, as you stroked your fingers down the slope of his button nose. “uh-huh,” he breathed, wishing you’d hurry things along. he was achingly hard, cock heavy and pulsing between his legs. but you wanted a verbal response, so you reached out, fingers curling into his roots, before you roughly (but not enough to hurt him) tugged his head back. he gasped sharply, eyes immediately glazing over, mouth parting. you gasped softly when you realized drool had begun to drip down the side of his mouth. “say it,” you instructed. he swallowed, trying to gather his wits about him, though his brain felt as if it was melting. “i-i’m your sweet boy.”

"you hear all that fuckin' love they throw at me?" he smiles, teeth catching your bottom lip in a bruising bite.

you barely had time to gasp before his mouth crashed onto yours, hot and desperate, all sweat, booze, leather and frantic hunger.

his guitar hung crooked over his back and half-forgotten, thudding lightly against the wall as he fumbled one hand to shove it off.

"not a single one of 'em matters angel, just you." he presses his forehead to yours, the waste of whiskey and faint tobacco now on your tongue too.

"c'mon needa fuck it outta me, baby. breaks over in 10" he pants against your neck.

and were you gonna say no to that? abso-fuckin-luetly not.

the second the door slammed behind you, jensen had you pinned.

outside, the crowd was still a drunken, chanting mob. their voices echoed against the thin walls of the dressing room, chanting his name like a god damn prayer.

 jensen. jensen. jensen.

"y'hear that—?" he rasped against your mouth, his voice wrecked from singing, his breath ragged. his rough hands were already under your shirt, like he couldn't get enough. "they want me back out there".

his hips ground into yours, and you whimpered into his kiss, clawing at his jacket to get him closer. to keep him closer as long as you could.

"but you, angel" he groaned, sucking a bruise into the soft spot under your jaw, "you're the only god damn thing i need right now".

you barely managed a breathless, half-choked "please" before he spun you around, bending you over some ratty old couch. god knows what the surface of that thing has seen in it's day, but that didn't matter right now.

jensens hands yanked at your jeans with brutal urgency, and you kicked them down as fast as you could, moaning when you felt the blunt, hot weight of him pressing against you.

"tell me you want it—" he growled, teeth gritted, voice low. "tell me you want it more than every other fuckin' person out there wishin' they were you right now".

"i want it, please" you squirmed bent over the edge of the couch.

he let out a low chuckle, one hand smoothing down your ass before giving it a sharp smack that made you jolt, skin stinging under his calloused palm.

he gripped his fat cock, the heavy length slapping wetly against your ass, smearing this pre-cum around like a damn painting.

"feel that, angel?" he murmued, dragging the swollen head slowly between your ass cheeks, catching right where your soaking for him, just to hear you whimper. "gonna fuck you so good, forget the whole goddamn world’s still beggin’ for me out there".

he guided his cock to the absolute hilt in one brutal thrust, knocking the air out of your lungs, and you keened his name loud enough you swore the crew members definitely heard you.

he loved watching your lungs stutter up thighs twitch and tighten, muscles flexing round him.

jensen. jensen. jensen.

the chant outside blurred into your moans, into the filthy slap of skin on skin. into the desperate, broken sounds he wrenched out of you with every bruising thrust.

“no thoughts in this pretty head, huh? nothin’ but my fucking cock in this cunt. s’how it should be"

he fisted a hand in your hair, dragging your head back in a growl "say. my. name".

"jensen" you sobbed, clenching helplessly around him, spit glistening down your chin.

he cursed at that, filthy praise, driving into you impossibly harder. sweat dripped from his temple onto your shoulder. moaning his name in time with the chanting rowdy crowd.

the noise from the crowd kept building and building. a crescendo of adoration he completely ignored in the moment. his whole world narrowed to you. your heat, your voice, your body breaking apart around him.

when he finally groaned your name and spilled inside you, it hit right as the crowd outside roared his name louder than before. and for a split second, there was only the two of you.

wrecked. shaking, covered in sweat and each others cum.

jensen leaned over your back, his mouth brushing your ear, and let out a low, cocky chuckle.

"guess they'll have to wait another second" he panted. his hand slid down to squeeze your hip possessively. "rockstar's a little busy"

you were completely ruined, aching and smiling like a sinner. it wasn't the first time he'd fucked you dumb between songs. and you wouldn't have it any other way.

tags: @tinas111 @fancyhideoutpeach @kimxwinchester @soldiersgirl @lanasgirlfr @unfortunate-brat @bruisedfig @angelically-yours @winchestersbgirl @spnaquakindgdom @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel @bejeweledinterludes

"any ideas?" sam hums as he digs his fork into his salad, pushing around the dressing to hide the disappointing mix of greens underneath.

"could be another drowner spirit, like that kid in wisconsin." dean hums in response as he bites into his burger with a sigh. the meat somehow soggy and dry at the same time. "could be a kelpie. siren?" he throws down his burger and raises his shoulders in defeat. "must be something in dad's journal." sam shakes his head.

"nothing that hints at what this could be." sam sighs as dean lifts the newspaper once again as his eyes scan the article, just one more time. signs of choking, blunt force trauma. followed by reports of singing heard late at night by the beach, some men wandering lost, schools of fish left half-eaten and discarded. dean curses as it all clicks. "what?" sam's head shoots up as he eyes the newspaper from across the table as dean pinches the bridge of his nose.

"i think i know. but if if i'm right, and that's a big if, then dad owes me five bucks... when we find him." he mumbles the last part before reaching for a limp fry and wiggling it about in front of sam, who shoves his hand down with an unimpressed grin.

"what could you possibly be betting with dad about?" sam grunts, pushing his bangs aside to reveal his puppy-dog eyes silently admiring his older brother, as he looked proud of himself.

"mermaids." dean leans back with a shit-eating smile and sending a wink towards his younger. sam lets out a laugh of disbelief.

"you and dad were betting on.. mermaids? i was at college and this is how you spent your time."

"no, no, lil' bro. you got it all wrong." dean leans back forward and hunches over his half-eaten burger, setting the scene. "it was just after the little mermaid came out, right? and i asked dad why we had never found one, why it was only those crazy-ass sirens. the old man said they were extinct. gone." dean jabs his finger down onto the front page of the crumpled paper. "until now. the singing, the choking? classic mermaid lore, sammy. it's what the pirates wrote home about."

"i just thought being out on the ocean made them crazy. didn't they confuse sea-cows for women?"

"desperate times call for desperate measures, but whatever. sammy. this is the real deal and we're gonna catch her and prove it. no sense killing her, we're gonna be revered! finding an extinct species." dean runs his worn hands over his face before slamming down an assortment of dollars on the diner table and grabbing his trusty leather jacket.

"wha-?" sam immediately gets cut off by dean grabbing him by the hood of his hoodie and dragging his lanky brother out behind him as he heads for the impala and sets course for their motel. it was time for prince dean to find his very own little mermaid.

for the next 3 nights, sam and dean would lounge around the beach during the evenings watching as families grilled, teenagers played volleyball and couples walked along the shore, giggling into one another's shoulders and holding hands. as the numbers dwindled and people made their way home to rest was when the real work began for the two brothers. as the moon hung low, the tide came in and the stars played in the vast, navy sky, the brothers sat and intently listened. each splash of water examined, each washed ashore fish bagged for evidence, with a grimace, whilst trying to keep each other awake with ridiculous games and keeping unsuspecting young men off the beach, for their own safety.

"i swear to god, dean, if you chose 'c' again for i spy, you're getting drowned." sam would complain as dean only sniggered and gave the same reply.

"get it? c, sea?" he would point out, lie back in the warm sand and laugh out loud before sam reminded him to be quiet, reprimanding dean for maybe scaring away the mermaid.

on the fourth night, they were getting desperate. dean's freckles had sprouted and multiplied across his rosy cheeks as sam's hair had gone a tone or two lighter while basking in the sun, enjoying the mundanity of the moment. an earned vacation among the chaos. dean fiddles with his necklace as he gazes out, thinking this was something he could get used to, the serenity of the night enveloping him and brushing away all his worries, like the sand that flies across his outstretched legs.

SPLASH!

dean whips his head, his trained eyes scanning the surface for a hint of something, anything. he goes to turn to sammy and sees his younger brother passed out on his worn-out brown hoodie. his bangs swept across his forehead, his hands resting on his chest and his mouth in a slight pout as light snores rumble in his chest.

SPLASH!

another. dean tears his eyes away and stares out again. it was coming closer, almost beckoning him. this felt different. the air grew colder and everything grew quieter as dean's senses heightened as small splashes rang out across the shore line. dean was too slow to catch the culprit each time and his anxiety grew with each. he decides against his better judgement and leaves sammy as he shoots up, grabs his leather jacket that he was sitting on and his hunter's bag before trudging across the beach. until he hears it. the indisputable sound of a woman's voice singing. her soft tones and gentle notes are carried in by the waves as they lap against dean's feet, like wanting fingers trailing against her lover's skin. dean's instinct cloud over for a second, he should walk into the ocean. he should get deeper. find her.

"no.. no!" he whispers to himself before digging around in his jeans pocket and pulling out his earplugs and shoving them into his ears. just like he suspected, her voice calls men to the ocean, like a moth to light and they have no choice but to follow. but dean was smarter and prepared. as he travels along the beach, he spots a cove in the distance and a smile spreads across his tanned face. "i got ya now.." he mutters as he hikes up his bag and heads straight for, what he suspected, was the mermaid's lair.

each droplet echoed throughout the desolate cove. the walls damp and the floor covered in trodden barnacles and washed-up seaweed. each of dean's steps had to be calculated as any could lead to a fatal mistake and he wasn't about to let anything get in his way. your humming and soft tones bounced off the walls, flowing over dean and greeting him like a long-lost over as he pants and gasps, desperate to prove himself right and his father wrong. he had lost all sense of direction and time as he continues climbing further and further into your grasp, your voice becoming his only compass.

dean falters, dropping his bag and leather jacket from his grasp, as he finally reaches an opening, wherein a glittering, untouched inlet lapped at the edges. dean scrambles forward, his jeans scraping against the rock floor as he dives his hand into the cold tide pool and moans with relief as the cold water touches his lips. he rests his heated cheeks against the edge before splashing some water on his face and securing his ear plugs further. disorientation was your play; it was how you got even the strongest of men at their weakest, scared, desperate.

"you're not like the others." dean's emerald eyes fly open and he throws himself back away from the edge, away from you. you treaded the water gracefully as you intently watched him, the tide caressing your soft skin. your hair was slicked back revealing each intricate detail of your face in the dimly-lit cove. beads of ocean running down your cheeks bones and gliding over the soft pillows of your lips. how could something so beautiful, be so deadly? dean shook his head as he laid frozen, his breathing quick and shallow.

"the others?" his deep voice a contrast to the delicate setting.

"you know which ones." you say nonchalantly with a small shrug of your shoulders, as if you hadn't killed them. you swim forward and fold your arms over one another as you rest your chin on top, a small smile playing on your lips. "pathetic and entitled. stupid." you laugh, running your tongue over your sharp canines. teeth made to tear men to shreds. dean finally sits himself up and tries to shake his fears of him. he came here for a reason and he wasn't going to leave empty-handed.

"entitled?" dean asks, eager to learn from their mistakes.

"they thought they deserved me, as if i was something to own. so i showed them the truth." you cock your head as if the answer is obvious but dean only lifts his brows in confusion which got a sigh from you. "the ocean can't be owned or tamed, neither can a woman."

"you're not a woman." dean says pointedly, receiving a sneer from you. "you're a mermaid. you're meant to be extinct, haven't been found in hundreds of years." dean regurgitates what his father told him all those years ago.

"that's what we wanted you to think."

"who?"

"men, hunters, sailers. anyone who wanted to harm us. we dove to uncharted depths, but after a while, you get that craving. that yearning." you sigh as you trace your finger over the shell-speckled edge. "are you here to hurt me?" your eyes meet his, challenging him.

"no." truth.

"are here to capture me?"

"no." lie.

"then why are you here? you seem to know a lot about mermaids." you furrow your brows in suspicion as you lift and point your finger to his ear. "i can spot the plugs from here. smart." you pull yourself more out of the pool and lean yourself over more across the cold, cove bed. seaweed tangled around your chest and stretched out over your shoulders, as opposed to the sea-shells that dean was expecting, whilst your kept your shimmering tail submerged still, playing with the waves.

"my dad... was a hunter. told me all about you. said i'd never see one like you, that i was stupid to think i would." dean admits, his heart clenching at the thought of his dad's harsh words. he was only a child.

"you smell like a hunter." you state, propping your chin on your palm. "is that why you've been sitting on the beach all those nights, just... waiting for me?" you tug your soaked hair behind your ear with a small giggle. one fact that john had also mentioned was that mermaid's were gullible, too gullible for their own good.

"yes, yes. of course! anything to see you." he eagerly nodded, playing to your weaknesses. "i just had to see you."

"wow..." you feel your cheeks heat up as you throw yourself backwards into the water, did a small back flip under water and spraying water all over a surprised dean. with you distracted, he took the opportunity to grab his bag closer to him, getting a grip on the fisherman's net he had stashed in it as you return to your original position with a wide smile plastered across your face. "you're the sweetest man i've ever met. and i've been around for a long time." you reach out your webbed hands to dean as he notices the small, iridescent scales running down your arms to your fingertips. he reaches out with a sweet smile and when you expect to feel the shake of his hand, you feel a harsh tug as you're pulled out of the water and enveloped in a tangled mess. you thrash your tail, try to scratch with your clawed nails and let out a shrill call, but to no avail. as you struggle against the net, a tear rolling down your cheek in disbelief, dean watches. frozen. he had done the impossible.

"let me go!" you call out, grabbing onto the net to shake it but yelping out in pain as the net burns your hands. you hiss and pull them back, eyes darting between the on-edge dean and the knotty tangle of rope.

"don't move too much." his voice stern, but he catches himself and softens his tone. "silver has been woven into the threads, it'll hurt if you move too much." dean whispers, your short sobs echoing off the salt-kissed stone. you pull your tail up to your chest and curl it around yourself like the comforting hold of a mother as you shiver, from the cold and fear.

"p-please. don't kill me. i'll go. i'll go anywhere else, i'll go back to the depths. whatever you want." you beg, your brows upturned. dean can't even look at you, knowing one look in your hopeful eyes would mean letting you go.

"i'm not going to kill you, i swear." he rustles around in his bag and pulls out the familiar leather bound journal of john winchester, flicks through a few pages and clicks the pen that came along with it. "we want to study you, show other hunters that you're back from extinction." dean hums as his eyes dart over your body, noting down the details he had noticed and the information that needed to be updated.

"if– if i help you, will you let me go? go back to my sisters?" you wipe your nose. "they'll get worried if i'm gone for too long, come searching for me."

"yes." dean lies, against his better judgement. he'd rather keep you calm and talkative, than panicked and silent. as expected, you fall for it, his tone assuring and confident and you nod as your breathing slows. dean had to wait for you to fall asleep to be able to get you out of the cove with the help of his brother, but for now, you both sat in a tense silence that was interrupted by dean's occasional questions. all the way throughout, you were honest but your eyes never left his face. you enjoyed his human tendencies. the scrunching of his small nose as he wrote, nibbling on his bottom lip and end of the pen as he continued to avoid your gaze.

as the last sea-water droplets roll of your skin and your hair slowly dries, you feel a shiver run deep, down your spin as you start to gasp for air. your webbed hands fly up to your throat as your scratch at your chest, panicked. dean throws john's journal to the side, leaping forward, holding his hands out in confusion.

"wh–what do i do? what's...?" is all dean can mutter as he watches the scene unfold it front of him. your tail unfurls and falls in front of you, the seaweed that clung to your chest falls into your lap, your scales shivering and peeling off. you watch in horror as your majestic, opalescent tail transform into water and revealing legs underneath as it cascades down and into the cove pool. as the ordeal washes over, you sigh and silently curse yourself, bringing your new-found knees to your chest and covering yourself from dean's look of disbelief and shock. "what?!" he half-yells, not understanding your calm demeanour.

"i forgot this happened, honestly." you stare in awe at your human form, wiggling your toes and fingers in sync and enjoying the feeling of your rounded teeth against your tongue. "i... i haven't been out of the water in a few centuries. yeah, when the sea-water dries, we return to our original form. how we looked before we drowned by angry sailors and were saved by sea foam. for men, the sea is terrifying and unruly. but for us, scorned women, it's a sanctuary."

"that's how mermaids are created?" dean has forgotten all about the damn journal and let's himself be taken your words.

"that's how some are created. not everyone has the same story. all we know is that the ocean, she saved us. made us." you nod with a small smile. "i... i have to be back in the water within the hour or i turn to sea-foam... just so you know." it was dean's turn to nod with a smile of defeat. there goes his plan. a silence covers you both like a blanket but a small cough from you pulls dean out of his thoughts as he tries to come up with a new plan, but fails to do so. "can i at least take the net off? i'll... i'll answer more of your questions, i won't try to leave. i swear."

"oh, yeah. let me just..." dean shuffles forward as you lift up your arms, freeing you from the net but catching a glimpse of your chest in the process. he holds his breath as he keeps his gaze skyward, blindly grabbing at twisted threads and throwing them to the side. he reaches behind him and pulls forward his oversized leather jacket to you. you giggle as you reach forward, your fingers gliding over his before pulling it on and wrapping it around you. dean gazes at you out of the corner of his eye and sighs with relief at your covered form as he stretches and rubs the back of his neck. he pulls out his earplugs, fearing you less now that you had become human right in front of him.

"you're quite the gentleman, aren't you? looks like your father taught you well." you comment, your eyes filled with admiration. despite your human form, your mermaid traits still shone through.

"my father taught me no such thing." dean bites, his head whipping to the journal and tucking it back into his bag. you rest your chin on your knee and immediately realise that you hit a nerve.

"but he did give you a name. you still haven't told me yours." you point out, as you fiddle with your fingers.

"dean." he coughs, turning back around and facing you again. his shoulders relaxing and his gaze softening. "dean winchester." you hum and smile at him, sharing your name in return.

"dean. well, dean. if you're not going to ask me any more questions, how will we fill the time?" a suggestive smile plays on your soft lips. "i can't remember the last time i felt the loving touch of a man." you cock your head as dean's mouth gapes, taken aback by your honesty. you lean forward on all fours with dean's jacket hanging off your naked body and crawl forward. you mirror his position and kneel in front of him, your knees touching, the jacket sliding off your shoulder and your chest barely concealed. you reach out, grab dean's hand and lift it up until it rests against your breast, his hand instinctively cupping it in his large palm. eyes locked on one another's like the tension might snap if either of you blinked. his thumb runs over your nipple and a gasp escapes you as he slowly circles it and rubs it between his two digits. "dean, please." you mutter breathlessly as you lean in and brush your nose against his, your lips hovering over and grazing his. a small tug on your nipple and a unison of hisses before he carefully presses his lips to yours. you tentatively kiss, tongues slowly gliding against each others as his other hand reaches up and palms your other breast with the same level of care as before.

"can i...?" dean whispers against your lips, his hands reaching up and grabbing the edges of his jacket and as you nod, he slowly slides it off your shoulders and it falls with a heavy thud. you reach out and tug on his t-shirt with a smirk and dean quickly gets the hint by yanking it over his head and chucking it to the side. you both raise up onto your knees and let your hands and his explore each others bodies. groping, gliding, grabbing accompanied by soft kisses and high-pitched whines. your arms settle around his neck as he holds you by your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. chest to chest. heart to heart. his fingers digging into your supple skin as your nails drag across his scalp, tugging on his short locks and nipping at his lips as he hisses. your lips travel down his neck, licking and leaving open-mouthed kisses against his pulse-point. "oh fuck..." his groans echo throughout the cove as you melted into his touch as he holds you tight against him, like two lovers reunited. nails scratching against his back and teeth grazing the tender skin of his neck as he mewls under you. the sweetest sounds you've ever heard.

"please, touch me. i need it so bad." you mutter against his shoulder before lightly biting down, just enough to leave indents speckled across his broad muscles. you drag your lips across his skin and back up to his lips which eagerly meet yours in a frenzied kiss. "please, dean." you whisper into the kiss and dean only replies with a short laugh before letting his grip fall from your waist and find his way between your legs. his fingers caress your inner thighs as you flinch and twitch. the light brush of his fingers a welcomed change from the harsh pulls and tugs of the ocean, restlessly beating against your skin. they continue to run and brush over where you need him most, where your wetness is pooling and slowly dripping down onto dean's soft fingertips. he smiles into the kiss and lets out a satisfied moan as he meets your juices and finally lets his fingers dive into you. they slip between your folds and move up to meet your clit, where he rubs your arousal all over it. your legs falter and your breath stutters at the foreign sensation as your moans rumble in your chest.

"like that, sweetheart?" he mumbles and all you can do is nod as he increases the pressure, circling your engorged bud before going back into your folds and teasing your opening. you latch onto him for support and throw your head back as your hip stutters before slowly rocking in sync with his rough fingers playing with your clit. "god, you're soaked, angel." he sighs as he admires you, the way your body reacts to him. he quickly pulls away and you groan in defiance before you hear him shuffling around before slowly guiding you to lay down. instead of the damp, cold stone against your bare back, you're met with the soft satin of the inside of dean's leather jacket. dean goes on all fours in between your thighs and continues torturing and teasing you with fleeting touches and featherlight kisses starting from your knee, past your thigh and up to your abdomen.

"deeeaan..." you whine as you writhe and grab onto the jacket, your desperation for dean becoming overwhelming. just as you open your mouth to complain, dean complies with a wicked smile and watches your face in awe as his fingers finally indulge you and pushes past your folds. his middle finger, with an aching slowness, drags itself in and out of your entrance, taking his time with you before adding another. his thick fingers gradually work you open and you groan as you stretch around his digits. a harsh suck and a kitten lick to your clit forces you to lift your head and meet a smirking dean. you settle back, leaning on your elbows as dean puts on a show for you. moaning and humming with content as he buries his tongue into your folds and bumps your clit with his shaped nose as his fingers continue their torture on your spongy walls. pleasure that you had sought out for years was finally years and you couldn't help but roll your eyes into the back of your head and let him feast on you like a starved man.

"mmmhm, nghhhn– mmm..." dean's moans were obscene and only added to your pleasure. you feel him stop and you lift your head to protest, but his glistening chin and slick lips stop you in your tracks. you hadn't seen something as breath-taking as him in aeons with his messy hair, hooded emerald eyes and a knowing smile. he leans back down and trails kisses from the top of your mound to the valley of your tits, before capturing your neglected nipples in between his glossy lips. your legs spread further apart as his pace quickens, his fingers massaging your g-spot with precision. you gaze down at him and the desperation on your face is clear as you slowly rock your body and meet his fingers in a frantic rhythm. "gonna cum, baby?" he hums, his lips still latched around your nipple, before switching to the other. a whimpered "mhm" slips past your lips as the pleasure builds, like a firework rearing to explode. a mess of garbled moans and whimpers escape you as you cum all over dean's fingers, unashamedly groaning dean's name as he admired the sight of you falling apart in his hands. he pulls out his two fingers and pulls back to marvel at them, your arousal covering and dripping down his hand. your chest heaves and heart almost stops as with a wide smirk and eyes centered on you, he presses them to his flattened tongue and sucks them dry with a barely-controlled moan. "delicious." he mutters and before he can say another word, you lean forward and try to undo his trousers with shaking hands.

"i want to touch you, feel you. please." you whine, but dean only pats your flushed cheeks and carefully tucks your hair behind your ear.

"every second i am not inside you, is a second wasted." you're pushed back down and in a matter of seconds, dean is stripped naked and in between the comfort of your thighs, hoisting your legs up to rest comfortably around his waist as he pumps himself once, then twice. he drags his cock through your folds a few times, stopping at your pulsing entrance before teasing again. he pauses and holds your gaze before pushing himself into you and the newfound sensation has you gasping underneath him. "so fucking tight, my god." he falls forward, encircling you tightly in his arms and nestling his head into the crook of your neck as he slowly rocks his hips. your nails rake down his back and your pleas for "faster, harder" are obeyed by him. he drives himself into you, pushing your thighs further apart to go deeper, to fully bury himself. your limbs clung around him like seaweed tangled in the current.

"oh my god, dean...!" you harshly whisper into his ear before tugging on his lobe with your teeth, pulling a hiss from him as his momentum wavered before pulling himself back, lifting your right leg as the other stay curled around his waist and hammering into you. all you could think about was dean. dean, dean, dean. his quiet gasps becoming raw, echoing groans as your pussy clenches around his length, nearing another climax. the pleasure trickled down your spine like an escaped bead of water before pooling in your core and you let yourself be drowned in the pleasure. as the pleasure crescendoes and peaks, dean grabs onto your hips whilst tipping back and making you straddle him. you immediately take over and ride dean's thick cock whilst his hands on your body like an octopus; everywhere, all at once, impossibly urgent. one rests on your hip and the other finds it's way to your clit, rubbing messy circles against it. you bounce, thrust, grind as your hands rest on his solid chest. he thrusted his hips up to meet yours, his balls slapping up against the base of your ass.

"gonna c-cum, baby." he gasps and your pussy involuntarily flutters around his cock as both hands are now guiding your hips. "gonna cum so fucking hard." he pants, struggling to keep his breath under control. you clench your jaw and bite down on your lip as your hips grow tired, your pace hitting its final peak as dean finally releases himself inside of you. with his final finishing thrusts, you gush around him for the third time and then collapse onto his chest in exhaustion. you lay together in silence for a minute or two, before peeling yourself off of him and wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of your hand. you climb off him and settle back with your knees to your chest and pulling the leather jacket over you as dean slowly gets dressed, eyes drifting over to you and quickly darting away again.

"will i ever see you again?" you ask with hesitation, already knowing the answer. dean lets out a short laugh before kneeling down in front of you and placing a soft kiss against your dry lips.

"i hope so. i want to." foreheads resting against each others. "but i'm not sure how we can." a low sigh and saddened eyes.

"me neither." your heart clenches. "but i won't ever forget you, dean." your hand finds his and gives it a soft squeeze.

"yeah?" he raises a brow and you assure him with a nod. "i want to make sure of that." he leans away for a second, pulls off his amulet and places it down around your head. a smile that reached his eyes grew as he peered down at the small golden trinket. "but i'm gonna be needing this back." he peels the jacket off you, hooks his finger into it and places one last kiss against your forehead as he rests on it his shoulder.

"be careful, my trigger man." you whisper as he grabs the forgotten journal and stuffs it into his bag. a breathy laugh followed by a longing gaze.

"i'll see you around. don't go causing more trouble." he warns with a wink as he watches you wave and slowly immerse yourself back into the cove pool. with the blow of a kiss to dean, you fully submerge yourself and feel yourself return to your former self. the cove grew silent once again, except for the drip of droplets and a heavy sigh from the older winchester.

"where the hell have you been? i've been looking for you for like," sam peers down at his watch." half an hour!" sam complains as dean comes sauntering back with his bag slung over his shoulder and jacket dragging in the sand.

"don't get your panties inna twist. can't a guy just go for a walk? admire the sunrise?" dean points out at the ocean and the orange glow that was cascading down onto the beach, bathing the brother's in a growing heat. sam scratches his head.

"since when have you ever watched a sunrise?" he sneers, before sighing as dean sits down next to him and pushing sand onto him.

"often. mind your business." dean retorts before fixing his gaze over the horizon.

"hmph." sam furrows his brows at dean before joining him at gazing out over the tide that slowly rolled in. "did i miss anything?"

"no." dean answers almost too quickly. "it's been silent all night." sam groans and runs his hands through his shaggy hair.

"that means one more night sitting on this fucking beach."

"no, i... i think it was just accidents, sammy. dad was right, mermaids are extinct, don't exist." dean pulls out his mobile and waves it in sam's face. "plus, bobby texted me with a new case. something we can actually hunt." dean's tone convincing, convicted. sam almost didn't dare question it, so he just nodded and started to gather his things. as the brother's walked away, sam peered down at his shorter brother and cocked his head.

"where'd your amulet go?"

"must've lost it when i went swimming." dean's lack of panic and cool composure shocked sam more than anything had in a while; that amulet meant everything to dean. sam just nodded and continued to march on towards the impala. dean hung back a little, gazing one last time over the ocean and seeing the tip of a familiar tail travelling to the unexplored depths alongside the torn pages from his dad's journal. you were his secret to keep.

The sound of the ropes snapping is barely audible over the pounding in your ears, over the sharp inhale you take when Ben lunges forward. One second, you’re in control—smug, taunting, playing your little game. The next, you’re flipped onto your back so fast the air is knocked from your lungs.

His weight presses you down, thick hands pinning your wrists above your head, the same way you had him. His grip is bruising, ironclad, his forearms flexing as he cages you in.

"Thought you were real fuckin’ cute, huh?" His voice is low, rough, dangerous. "Gettin’ me all wound up, keepin’ me on edge, makin’ me beg?" His lips curl, a smirk full of sharp teeth. "Well, sweetheart, now it's my turn."

You swallow hard, but your cunt clenches at the raw fury in his voice, at the way his body is pressed tight against yours, hot and hard and so fucking big.

"Look at you," he sneers, shifting his hips so the thick length of his cock slides against your slick folds, teasing. "You love it, don’t you? You love bein’ a fuckin’ brat. Love pissin’ me off just to see what I’ll do to you."

You gasp when he rolls his hips again, the head of his cock nudging against your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. Your thighs twitch, trying to press together, but he grips your knee and forces you open, spreading you wide beneath him.

"Not so cocky now, huh?" he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw, his breath hot and heavy. "Now that you’re the one tied down? Where is that dominant woman?"

You want to snap back, want to play it cool, but when his fingers slide down your stomach, teasing over your swollen clit, all that comes out is a breathy, pathetic whimper.

His smirk widens.

"That’s what I fuckin’ thought."

And then he pulls back.

You blink up at him, dazed, breathing hard. He sits back on his heels, still straddling you, looking down like he’s got all the time in the world.

"Here’s what’s gonna happen, sweetheart." His voice is slow, deliberate. "You’re gonna touch that pretty little pussy for me."

Your breath catches.

His hands slide down his own torso, abs flexing as he strokes his cock—slow, lazy, teasing himself the same way you did to him.

"Come on, baby," he murmurs. "Wanna see you spread yourself open for me. Wanna watch those pretty fingers play with that sloppy little cunt."

Heat floods through you, your face burning, but fuck, the way he’s looking at you—eyes dark, lips wet, chest rising and falling with every heavy breath—it’s too much.

Your hand trembles as it slides down your stomach, fingers parting your folds, dragging through the slick that’s pooled there.

"Good girl," he praises, his voice like gravel. "Now rub that clit for me. Nice and slow."

You obey, gasping when your fingers make contact, circling that swollen bundle of nerves. Your hips jerk slightly, chasing more, but his voice is sharp.

"Ah-ah. Slow."

You whimper, forcing yourself to keep the pace light, teasing, exactly how he wants.

"Shit," he groans, fisting the base of his cock, stroking once, twice, watching you like a predator watches prey. "Look at you. Drippin’ all over yourself. So fuckin’ needy."

Your fingers work over your clit, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough. You squirm beneath him, biting your lip, your free hand gripping the sheets.

"Look at you," he murmurs, eyes locked on your hand between your thighs. "So desperate to cum, huh?"

"Please," you whisper, barely able to form the word.

He laughs—low, dark, cruel.

"Oh, sweetheart," he drawls, still slowly jerking his cock. "You’re not gonna cum."

Your stomach clenches.

"Not until I say so."

You whine, thighs trembling, fingers still working your clit, but the ache, the need, is unbearable. Your body is screaming for more, for relief, but he just watches, smirking, stroking himself like he has all the time in the world.

"You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this," he muses. "All spread out, soaked, beggin’ for it." He tuts, shaking his head. "Should make you do this all night. Make you edge yourself until you’re fuckin’ cryin’ for me."

Your breath stutters, your thighs twitching at the filthy promise in his voice.

"Maybe I’ll just watch," he murmurs, voice thick, gaze hooded. "Maybe I won’t even fuck you. Just make you do all the work while I sit back and enjoy the show."

Your fingers falter, and you make a pathetic little noise, somewhere between a whimper and a sob. Your body is shaking, your pussy clenching around nothing, your entire being screaming for him.

"Please," you gasp, your voice breaking. "I—I can’t— fucking do something already..."

He exhales sharply, jaw clenching, his grip tightening on his cock. You can tell he’s barely holding himself back, barely restraining the urge to rip your hand away and shove his cock inside you.

Finally, finally, he leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

"That’s enough," he growls. "Get your fuckin’ hands off my pussy."

Your fingers still immediately, and he grabs your wrist, pinning it above your head before pressing his weight down on you again, his cock nudging against your entrance.

"You want it, babydoll?" His voice is rough, shaking slightly. "You want this fuckin’ cock?"

"Yes," you sob, body arching against him, desperate beyond words.

"Then beg for it."

“Fuck Ben,” you gasp, voice breaking, wrecked with need. “Please, I need you, I need your cock—”

Soldier Boy laughs, low and rough, like gravel in his throat. He knows how sweet you are playing to get what you want. He knows you. “That’s all you got?” His fingers tighten around your wrists, keeping you pinned beneath him. His cock slides against your drenched folds, teasing, dragging through the slick mess you’ve made of yourself. “Come on, sweetheart. You can do better than that.”

You writhe beneath him, helpless, thighs twitching every time his cock nudges your clit. The teasing, the denial—it’s too much, it’s too fucking much.

“Please, I—I can’t take it anymore—”

“Oh, you can,” he growls, dragging his teeth down your throat, sucking a bruise against your skin. “I made you like this. So fuckin’ desperate. So fuckin’ soaked.” He grinds against you again, slow and torturous, letting you feel every inch of him. “You love it.”

You whimper, hips jerking up, trying to take him in, but he pulls back, again, leaving you aching, throbbing, empty.

"Beg better," he orders, gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. His pupils are blown, his jaw tight, his cock twitching against you. You can tell he’s barely holding himself together, but fuck, he loves this. He lives for this.

"I—fuck—" Your brain is a mess, nothing but white-hot need burning through you. "I'm aching for you, baby, to finally feel you, I need you inside me, I want you to stretch me open, use me, fuck me—please—"

"That’s more like it."

And then, finally, finally, he lines himself up and shoves inside you with one brutal thrust.

You scream.

It’s too much, it’s perfect, the stretch burning so fucking good as he buries himself to the hilt, filling you up, splitting you open. His cock is thick, heavy, pulsing deep inside, and your walls squeeze around him, desperate to keep him there.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, voice wrecked, forehead dropping to yours. "So tight, so fuckin’ tight—"

You whimper, nails digging into his shoulders, and he doesn’t wait, doesn’t give you a second to adjust before he moves.

The rhythm he sets is brutal, merciless, hips slamming into yours, his cock hitting deep, over and over and over. Every thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, drives the air from your body.

"That's what you wanted?" His voice is a growl, lips brushing against your ear. "Wanted me to ruin you?"

You can’t speak, can’t think, can only sob out broken moans as he fucks you like he’s trying to break you. His weight presses you down, keeps you helpless beneath him, makes you take it.

"Fuckin’ brat," he snarls, hand closing around your throat, not squeezing—just holding, making you feel how small you are beneath him. "Think you can tease me, tie me up, make me beg?"

His pace somehow gets rougher, more punishing, skin slapping against skin, sweat dripping from his chest onto yours.

"Ah, you fucking loved it and I know." you managed to speak, your voice hoarse and strangled.

"Still cocky, huh? This fucking mouth" He bites your jaw, licks the sting. "But what happened to the rest of that attitude?"

You try to speak, try to say anything, but all that comes out is a whimper.

"That’s what I thought," he grunts, grinding his hips deep, making you scream. "Nothing but a dumb little fucktoy now, huh?"

The words send a fresh flood of heat straight to your core, and he feels it, groaning when your walls squeeze around him.

"Yeah," he breathes, lips curling into a smug, wicked smirk. "You love it. Love bein’ my fuckin’ toy."

You nod, brainless, lost in him, lost in the way he’s tearing you apart, making you his.

"Say it," he orders, voice sharp, grip tightening on your hips.

"I—fuck—I love it," you gasp. "Love being your—your fucktoy—"

"Good fuckin’ girl," he praises, and your whole body burns.

"But you— you love being my toy too." you finish, still teasing. A proud smirk appeared on your blushed and full of pleasure face.

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. Letting that one slip because, fuck, you're right. Then his hand slides down between you, finds your clit, and rubs harsh, tight circles.

"Come for me," he orders, his voice lethal. "Make a fuckin’ mess on my cock."

It’s not a request.

The pleasure slams into you like a freight train.

You scream, body locking up, pleasure tearing through you like a live wire. Your vision goes white, the world disappearing as your orgasm destroys you, rips you apart at the seams.

Soldier Boy fucks you through it, grunting as your walls spasm around him, milking his cock, pulling him deeper.

"Fuck—fuck, baby, I’m—" His rhythm stutters, turns sloppy, desperate, until he snaps, burying himself to the hilt and growling as he spills inside you.

You feel it, dear God, you feel it, the heat flooding deep, his cock twitching as he pumps you full, branding you from the inside out.

He collapses on top of you, heavy, breath ragged, heartbeat pounding against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, both wrecked, used up, panting in the aftermath.

Then, finally, Ben chuckles, voice still rough.

"I think we should do this more often, doll. But next time you wanna tie me up, oh sweetheart…" He lifts his head, smirking down at you, eyes dark, wicked. "You better make sure I can’t break free."

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

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lina's notes: helloo!! sooo here's part two... no cliffhanger this time lol. you guys asked me so much and I hope it's as good as part one and doesn't leave anything to be desired yk. also, I just realized I hit 470+ followers AND THANK YOU SO MUCH I APPRECIATE IT SO SO MUCH AND LOVE YOU ALL, so I decided to post this as a 400 followers thank you 💜👯

but even through the chaos, you noticed the way dean stopped meeting your eyes.

he still helped. he still showed up when you needed him — bottle in hand, burping cloth slung over his shoulder, rocking your daughter in the crook of one strong arm while you tried to shower or just breathe for five minutes. he didn't complain. he didn't disappear.

but he wasn't there, either.

you started waking up alone. at first, he'd come to bed late and leave early. then, he stopped coming to bed at all. you found him asleep on the couch, or just sitting in the nursery while your daughter slept, staring at the wall like he was somewhere else entirely.

he spoke less. touched you less. and when he did speak, it was clipped. mechanical.

"need anything?"

"i'll take her."

"i won't be home for another day or two, sweetheart. sam needs my help on this case."

you tried not to take it personally, but it started to feel like he was disappearing by the inch. like the man who held your hand through labor, who whispered 'you're doing so good, sweetheart' as you screamed and sobbed, had walked out of the hospital and never really made it home.

your heart started to ache in places it hadn't before.

one night, you made his favorite dinner. bacon cheeseburgers from scratch. with some fries. a slice of apple pie. you waited at the table, hopeful. he sat down, nodded in your direction, picked at the food. took maybe two bites? then stood up before you'd even gotten halfway through your plate.

"i'm not really hungry."

"yeah, but, baby… you haven't eaten all day."

"there's nothing to worry about. i'm fine."

he didn't look at you when he said it. just grabbed the keys to the impala and left.

you ate alone. and you cried as you took bites of your pie.

he started hunting again. more than he should've.

sam didn’t question it — not out loud — but you knew he saw it too. the way dean threw himself into hunts like he was chasing something. like if he just stayed moving, stayed killing, stayed saving, maybe he wouldn't have to sit still long enough to face what was happening at home.

he drank more, too. not to the point of slurring, but enough that you could smell it on his breath when he came home, when he kissed your daughter's forehead and not yours.

and damn, it hurt.

not because you needed his attention. not because you wanted to be doted on. but because you missed him. the man who used to kiss your shoulder in the morning. who used to sneak into the kitchen behind you just to wrap his arms around your waist. the man who once said, 'i'm not scared of hell, but i'm scared of losing this.'

but now, it felt like you were already losing him.

you found him one night in the nursery, sitting on the floor with his back against the crib, knees drawn up, eyes bloodshot. not crying. just gone. like the light had flickered out somewhere deep inside him.

he didn't look up when you stepped in.

"dean?"

his voice was hoarse when he answered. "she looks like you."

you knelt beside him, searching his face. he looked thinner. not just physically — emotionally. like he'd been carved down to something hollow.

you reached for him, and he flinched.

"don't," he said quietly. "please."

you froze. "what’s going on with you?"

he let out a breath, shaky and sharp. "you don't have to pretend, okay? i see it. how you look at me. like you're waiting for the man you married to come back."

"baby, i—"

"i'm not him anymore," he snapped, then dropped his head into his hands. "i don't even know who the fuck i am."

you sat down beside him, silent. he didn't cry. he just breathed like it hurt.

"i'm softer now," he muttered. "slow. i get winded walking up the stairs. i can't even hold her for long without my shoulder locking up. and you—" he looked at you then, like it physically pained him— "you're still so beautiful. and i'm just… this."

you reached for his hand again. he didn't pull away this time.

"do you think i care about your stomach?" you whispered. "about your shoulder? about the fact that you're tired?"

he didn't answer.

"you got up with me every night in the hospital," you said. "you held my hand when i screamed. you told me i was strong when i felt like i was dying. and now you're here, every time she cries, every time she needs something. i don't need you to be perfect, dean. i just need you to stay."

he closed his eyes, and you felt his grip tighten.

"i truly didn't think you'd want me anymore," he said, and it broke something inside you.

"i want you," you told him, fierce and quiet. "the man who fought monsters, the man who sings classic rock songs for lullabies to put our baby girl to sleep, the man who's still trying even when he thinks he's failing. i want every version there is of you. but you have to let me in."

he pulled you into his arms then, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt him really hold you.

not out of duty. not out of guilt. but out of love.