☕️🖤☁️ she/her, 20something historian from Europe, the one with the priest fics, this blog is strictly 18+ !Requests are closed! Don't copy or edit my work. Multifandom imagines to keep you distracted. Stay safe in those crazy times. xxx Masterlist ao3
You can now pre-order the German version of my first dark romance novel „Circle of Sin“!! And I’d be so so so grateful if you would give this story a chance 🖤
Sechs Jahre lang hat Deliah versucht, alles zu vergessen, doch nun kehrt sie zurück an den Ort, an dem sie alles verloren hat – ihre Unschuld, ihren Glauben und ihr Vertrauen.
Doch nun wird sie sich den Dämonen ihrer Vergangenheit stellen.
Sie wird sich ihm stellen – Dean Scott. Seine Besessenheit ist ihr Verhängnis. Seine Leidenschaft ist ihr Feuer. Seine Dominanz ist ihr Fluch.
Konfrontiert mit dem Ort ihrer Vergangenheit entflammen eigentlich verbotene Gefühle von neuem.
Deliah dachte, sie wäre stärker. Aber wie kämpft man gegen eine Dunkelheit, in der man sich selbst verlieren möchte?
Slow Burn Dark Romance voller Manipulation, Trauma und starker innerer Entwicklung – perfekt für Leser:innen von New Adult, die intensive Liebesromane suchen.
Inspiriert von Ethel Cain’s Musik und der männliche MC schaut (natürlich) aus wie Dean Winchester. 👀🤭
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There is just too much going on atm, so I barely have any time to write, but I wanted to share this quick drabble with y'all! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves! Xxx
Summary: Reader is JJ's daughter and is working as an intern at the BAU, forced to work close with the man who seems to hate her
Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, age gap, enemies to lovers, both hate one another, basically pwp
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (1.8k words)
The first thing (y/n) learned during her internship at the BAU was that profilers could read everyone except themselves. The second thing she learned was that Dr. Spencer Reid absolutely hated her; or at least it felt that way.
Three weeks into her internship, she had become exceptionally talented at getting under Reid's skin. Maybe it was because everyone else treated him like he could do no wrong. Maybe it was because her mother constantly talked about him like he was some kind of genius saint. Or maybe it was because every conversation between them somehow turned into an argument. Whatever the reason, they couldn't seem to exist in the same room without irritating one another.
"Mom says you're supposed to be good at communication," (y/n) pushed out mid argument with him, a fake smile playing on her lips, her voice dripping with something sickenly sweet.
"Your mother also says you're supposed to be filing those reports." She narrowed her eyes, he returned the look, while across the bullpen, Derek let out a laugh.
"Twenty bucks says they kill each other before the semester ends."
"Make it thirty," Emily mumbled, eyes not leaving her report once.
God, she hated him, hated those irritatingly perfect curls, the stupid cardigans, the way he always corrected her professors whenever he visited her university as a guest lecturer. And worst of all, the way he acted like she was a child.
She was in her twenties, an adult and not some little kid running around Quantico.Yet every time she offered an opinion, Spencer somehow found a way to dismiss it, as if she couldn't possibly know what she was talking about, as if she wasn't smart enough.
And perhaps the worst part was that she cared, deeply. Because beneath all the irritation and arguments, she knew exactly what Spencer Reid thought of her: immature, impulsive, a distraction. And maybe that was why every interaction felt like a challenge, because she desperately wanted to prove him wrong.
…
Three days later, the team caught a case in Virginia. Everyone left the station there before sunrise, everyone except Spencer and (y/n), forced to stay behind because Hotch had belted some command into their direction, asking them to work on the geo profile of the area.
The room they had been offered by the sheriff felt eerily empty without the rest of the team. There was nothing now, just silence and Spencer Reid. The combination was torture, even as hours passed and (y/n) worked through maps. Neither spoke and for the first time since she'd started her internship, they were actually tolerating each other. Until the first roar of thunder found them, and seconds later the lights flickered, a loud metallic clang echoed somewhere down the hallway, and the power went out.
"What was that?" (y/n) pushed out, wide eyes finding Spencer’s.
Spencer frowned at that, they both stood while the emergency lights blinked on moments later as the light had completely gone out. She watched him walk towards the electronic door, hand settling on the handle to push it down, though without any luck. Both froze, there was a beat of silence, then another.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." He pulled harder, nothing. For several moments they simply stared at one another. They were alone, locked inside, no team, no escape. Nothing but the hatred for one another they tried to cling to.
"This is your fault." (Y/n) had crossed her arms, eyes angry while she kept staring at Spencer.
"My fault? I doubt I am at fault for the lighting hitting this building, am I?” His voice was angry, arms also crossed while neither dared to back away from their staring match.
"God, you're impossible." (Y/n) tried to turn from him, but didn’t get far as he spoke once again.
"You think I'm impossible?" She didn’t reply, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling quickly. "Interesting. Because I was thinking the exact same thing about you."
Their voices echoed through the room while the tension that had been building for weeks suddenly felt far too big for the small space around them. She stepped closer with quick steps, finger digging into his chest as she stared up at him.
“I don’t know why my mother is treating you as if you’re such a saint, you’re nothing but an asshole, you’re a fucking fraud, Reid.” Her words drew a humourless chuckle out of him, eyes staring down at her without any true emotion in them.
"And you're an immature child who only gets to work here because of her mother’s contacts." The words hit harder than they should have and Spencer immediately noticed.
"You don't know anything about me." She hated how easily she reacted to his words, how much she struggled to keep her composure whenever he called her that.
"I know enough." Something in her snapped, maybe it was weeks of frustration, maybe it was years of hearing stories about Spencer Reid before she'd ever met him. Or maybe she was simply tired of being looked down on.
"You walk around acting like everyone else is beneath you. You never listen to me, I’m not a fucking child, Reid.” Another humourless laugh, another shake of his head.
"Because half the time you're trying to start an argument." The words did something inside of her, they threw her emotions around as if someone had tried to mix them up like tossed cubes.
"Maybe because it's the only way to get your attention." The words slipped out before she could stop them. Silence followed for a few seconds as Spencer's eyes narrowed slightly. (Y/n) immediately regretted saying it, cheeks growing warmer while she took a step back, forced to another halt as his hand found her wrist.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Spencer asked quietly. The look he gave her made her stomach flip, because for the first time all day, he wasn't looking annoyed. He was looking right through her, like he was profiling her and finally understood something she didn't want him to.
"You want to know the truth?" he eventually asked while pulling (y/n) closer. "I don't hate you and I never did. But I find you irritating."
"Wow, thanks." Once again she tried to step away, though she still had no luck, forced to stay close to the tall man.
"You interrupt everyone and you challenge every opinion I have. But I never hated you. You're distracting, quite frankly you drive me fucking insane." Spencer looked at her and suddenly every sarcastic comment, every argument made a little too much sense. His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth, then returned to her eyes.
"You are unbelievably frustrating," she pushed out. "You think you know everything, you’re not a god."
"And you act like a child sometimes." They were inches apart now, neither willing to back down. (Y/n) should have stepped away, Spencer should have stepped away. Instead he leaned closer, just enough so she could feel his breath fan her skin. And then she moved first. It wasn't soft, it was fueled by months of frustration colliding at once. Spencer made a surprised sound before kissing her back immediately, one hand found her waist, the other tangled in her hair.
(Y/n) grabbed the front of his shirt. The kiss was messy, angry; the kind that happened after too many unsaid things and only made everything more complicated. He pushed her back until she hit a table, arms wrapped around his neck as he pushed her on top of it without breaking the kiss.
Her chest was tight, her heart was racing, but (y/n) felt all her control slipping. She could only give herself to his touch, could only push herself closer while Spencer eventually pulled away to nibble at her throat.
She moaned his name, legs wrapped around his waist to keep him close while her fingers brushed through his curls. (Y/n) should have put an end to it, should have at least halted for a second to think about what they were about to do, but the thoughts were gone the second she felt him undo the button of her jeans, her zip pulled down seconds later.
“Fuck, I have been thinking about this for too long.” His words made her choke on her surprised moan, eyes flickering up to meet his darkening ones as he pushed his hand into her panties, thighs parting instantly to invite him closer. He found her pulsing bundle within seconds, drawing another moan out of her.
(Y/n) could only give herself to him, could only let the tall man nip at her neck while he rubbed her clit, pushing her closer into a sensation she would have never dared to dream of in his closeness. She was panting and could feel his growing bulge through his jeans as she pulled him further against her.
“Will you be a good girl and take my fingers?” His raspy voice made her groan, followed by a nod thrown his way. Spencer pushed out a soft atta girl before his fingers moved down, teasing her for a second before he pushed two inside her, spreading her walls. (Y/n) clung to him, she tugged on his roots as Spencer rested his face against the crook of her neck, inhaling the now familiar scent of her perfume.
Her orgasm was close, it was about to rumble through her while the man she had sworn to hate kept fucking her with his fingers. Spencer didn’t slow down, didn’t back away as her walls began to flutter around him, eventually letting go with a call of his name. He kept fucking her with his fingers, kept watching her fall apart with a grin playing on his lips.
“Jesus Christ, Spencer.” She pushed the words out as he pulled away and licked his fingers clean, eyes not leaving her features once.
“A thank you is also enough.” His chuckles made her roll her eyes, words interrupted by the light flickering back on. Both looked up at the lights for a second before studying one another again. He dipped his head down to kiss her, letting the soft kiss linger before tugging on her lower lip with his teeth. “For the record, you’re still annoying and childish, but I wouldn’t say no to properly fucking you.”
His laugh filled the room seconds later as she had slapped his chest hard enough to make him gasp in surprise.
There is just too much going on atm, so I barely have any time to write, but I wanted to share this quick drabble with y'all! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves! Xxx
Summary: Reader is JJ's daughter and is working as an intern at the BAU, forced to work close with the man who seems to hate her
Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, age gap, enemies to lovers, both hate one another, basically pwp
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (1.8k words)
The first thing (y/n) learned during her internship at the BAU was that profilers could read everyone except themselves. The second thing she learned was that Dr. Spencer Reid absolutely hated her; or at least it felt that way.
Three weeks into her internship, she had become exceptionally talented at getting under Reid's skin. Maybe it was because everyone else treated him like he could do no wrong. Maybe it was because her mother constantly talked about him like he was some kind of genius saint. Or maybe it was because every conversation between them somehow turned into an argument. Whatever the reason, they couldn't seem to exist in the same room without irritating one another.
"Mom says you're supposed to be good at communication," (y/n) pushed out mid argument with him, a fake smile playing on her lips, her voice dripping with something sickenly sweet.
"Your mother also says you're supposed to be filing those reports." She narrowed her eyes, he returned the look, while across the bullpen, Derek let out a laugh.
"Twenty bucks says they kill each other before the semester ends."
"Make it thirty," Emily mumbled, eyes not leaving her report once.
God, she hated him, hated those irritatingly perfect curls, the stupid cardigans, the way he always corrected her professors whenever he visited her university as a guest lecturer. And worst of all, the way he acted like she was a child.
She was in her twenties, an adult and not some little kid running around Quantico.Yet every time she offered an opinion, Spencer somehow found a way to dismiss it, as if she couldn't possibly know what she was talking about, as if she wasn't smart enough.
And perhaps the worst part was that she cared, deeply. Because beneath all the irritation and arguments, she knew exactly what Spencer Reid thought of her: immature, impulsive, a distraction. And maybe that was why every interaction felt like a challenge, because she desperately wanted to prove him wrong.
…
Three days later, the team caught a case in Virginia. Everyone left the station there before sunrise, everyone except Spencer and (y/n), forced to stay behind because Hotch had belted some command into their direction, asking them to work on the geo profile of the area.
The room they had been offered by the sheriff felt eerily empty without the rest of the team. There was nothing now, just silence and Spencer Reid. The combination was torture, even as hours passed and (y/n) worked through maps. Neither spoke and for the first time since she'd started her internship, they were actually tolerating each other. Until the first roar of thunder found them, and seconds later the lights flickered, a loud metallic clang echoed somewhere down the hallway, and the power went out.
"What was that?" (y/n) pushed out, wide eyes finding Spencer’s.
Spencer frowned at that, they both stood while the emergency lights blinked on moments later as the light had completely gone out. She watched him walk towards the electronic door, hand settling on the handle to push it down, though without any luck. Both froze, there was a beat of silence, then another.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." He pulled harder, nothing. For several moments they simply stared at one another. They were alone, locked inside, no team, no escape. Nothing but the hatred for one another they tried to cling to.
"This is your fault." (Y/n) had crossed her arms, eyes angry while she kept staring at Spencer.
"My fault? I doubt I am at fault for the lighting hitting this building, am I?” His voice was angry, arms also crossed while neither dared to back away from their staring match.
"God, you're impossible." (Y/n) tried to turn from him, but didn’t get far as he spoke once again.
"You think I'm impossible?" She didn’t reply, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling quickly. "Interesting. Because I was thinking the exact same thing about you."
Their voices echoed through the room while the tension that had been building for weeks suddenly felt far too big for the small space around them. She stepped closer with quick steps, finger digging into his chest as she stared up at him.
“I don’t know why my mother is treating you as if you’re such a saint, you’re nothing but an asshole, you’re a fucking fraud, Reid.” Her words drew a humourless chuckle out of him, eyes staring down at her without any true emotion in them.
"And you're an immature child who only gets to work here because of her mother’s contacts." The words hit harder than they should have and Spencer immediately noticed.
"You don't know anything about me." She hated how easily she reacted to his words, how much she struggled to keep her composure whenever he called her that.
"I know enough." Something in her snapped, maybe it was weeks of frustration, maybe it was years of hearing stories about Spencer Reid before she'd ever met him. Or maybe she was simply tired of being looked down on.
"You walk around acting like everyone else is beneath you. You never listen to me, I’m not a fucking child, Reid.” Another humourless laugh, another shake of his head.
"Because half the time you're trying to start an argument." The words did something inside of her, they threw her emotions around as if someone had tried to mix them up like tossed cubes.
"Maybe because it's the only way to get your attention." The words slipped out before she could stop them. Silence followed for a few seconds as Spencer's eyes narrowed slightly. (Y/n) immediately regretted saying it, cheeks growing warmer while she took a step back, forced to another halt as his hand found her wrist.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Spencer asked quietly. The look he gave her made her stomach flip, because for the first time all day, he wasn't looking annoyed. He was looking right through her, like he was profiling her and finally understood something she didn't want him to.
"You want to know the truth?" he eventually asked while pulling (y/n) closer. "I don't hate you and I never did. But I find you irritating."
"Wow, thanks." Once again she tried to step away, though she still had no luck, forced to stay close to the tall man.
"You interrupt everyone and you challenge every opinion I have. But I never hated you. You're distracting, quite frankly you drive me fucking insane." Spencer looked at her and suddenly every sarcastic comment, every argument made a little too much sense. His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth, then returned to her eyes.
"You are unbelievably frustrating," she pushed out. "You think you know everything, you’re not a god."
"And you act like a child sometimes." They were inches apart now, neither willing to back down. (Y/n) should have stepped away, Spencer should have stepped away. Instead he leaned closer, just enough so she could feel his breath fan her skin. And then she moved first. It wasn't soft, it was fueled by months of frustration colliding at once. Spencer made a surprised sound before kissing her back immediately, one hand found her waist, the other tangled in her hair.
(Y/n) grabbed the front of his shirt. The kiss was messy, angry; the kind that happened after too many unsaid things and only made everything more complicated. He pushed her back until she hit a table, arms wrapped around his neck as he pushed her on top of it without breaking the kiss.
Her chest was tight, her heart was racing, but (y/n) felt all her control slipping. She could only give herself to his touch, could only push herself closer while Spencer eventually pulled away to nibble at her throat.
She moaned his name, legs wrapped around his waist to keep him close while her fingers brushed through his curls. (Y/n) should have put an end to it, should have at least halted for a second to think about what they were about to do, but the thoughts were gone the second she felt him undo the button of her jeans, her zip pulled down seconds later.
“Fuck, I have been thinking about this for too long.” His words made her choke on her surprised moan, eyes flickering up to meet his darkening ones as he pushed his hand into her panties, thighs parting instantly to invite him closer. He found her pulsing bundle within seconds, drawing another moan out of her.
(Y/n) could only give herself to him, could only let the tall man nip at her neck while he rubbed her clit, pushing her closer into a sensation she would have never dared to dream of in his closeness. She was panting and could feel his growing bulge through his jeans as she pulled him further against her.
“Will you be a good girl and take my fingers?” His raspy voice made her groan, followed by a nod thrown his way. Spencer pushed out a soft atta girl before his fingers moved down, teasing her for a second before he pushed two inside her, spreading her walls. (Y/n) clung to him, she tugged on his roots as Spencer rested his face against the crook of her neck, inhaling the now familiar scent of her perfume.
Her orgasm was close, it was about to rumble through her while the man she had sworn to hate kept fucking her with his fingers. Spencer didn’t slow down, didn’t back away as her walls began to flutter around him, eventually letting go with a call of his name. He kept fucking her with his fingers, kept watching her fall apart with a grin playing on his lips.
“Jesus Christ, Spencer.” She pushed the words out as he pulled away and licked his fingers clean, eyes not leaving her features once.
“A thank you is also enough.” His chuckles made her roll her eyes, words interrupted by the light flickering back on. Both looked up at the lights for a second before studying one another again. He dipped his head down to kiss her, letting the soft kiss linger before tugging on her lower lip with his teeth. “For the record, you’re still annoying and childish, but I wouldn’t say no to properly fucking you.”
His laugh filled the room seconds later as she had slapped his chest hard enough to make him gasp in surprise.
There is just too much going on atm, so I barely have any time to write, but I wanted to share this quick drabble with y'all! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves! Xxx
Summary: Reader is JJ's daughter and is working as an intern at the BAU, forced to work close with the man who seems to hate her
Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, age gap, enemies to lovers, both hate one another, basically pwp
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (1.8k words)
The first thing (y/n) learned during her internship at the BAU was that profilers could read everyone except themselves. The second thing she learned was that Dr. Spencer Reid absolutely hated her; or at least it felt that way.
Three weeks into her internship, she had become exceptionally talented at getting under Reid's skin. Maybe it was because everyone else treated him like he could do no wrong. Maybe it was because her mother constantly talked about him like he was some kind of genius saint. Or maybe it was because every conversation between them somehow turned into an argument. Whatever the reason, they couldn't seem to exist in the same room without irritating one another.
"Mom says you're supposed to be good at communication," (y/n) pushed out mid argument with him, a fake smile playing on her lips, her voice dripping with something sickenly sweet.
"Your mother also says you're supposed to be filing those reports." She narrowed her eyes, he returned the look, while across the bullpen, Derek let out a laugh.
"Twenty bucks says they kill each other before the semester ends."
"Make it thirty," Emily mumbled, eyes not leaving her report once.
God, she hated him, hated those irritatingly perfect curls, the stupid cardigans, the way he always corrected her professors whenever he visited her university as a guest lecturer. And worst of all, the way he acted like she was a child.
She was in her twenties, an adult and not some little kid running around Quantico.Yet every time she offered an opinion, Spencer somehow found a way to dismiss it, as if she couldn't possibly know what she was talking about, as if she wasn't smart enough.
And perhaps the worst part was that she cared, deeply. Because beneath all the irritation and arguments, she knew exactly what Spencer Reid thought of her: immature, impulsive, a distraction. And maybe that was why every interaction felt like a challenge, because she desperately wanted to prove him wrong.
…
Three days later, the team caught a case in Virginia. Everyone left the station there before sunrise, everyone except Spencer and (y/n), forced to stay behind because Hotch had belted some command into their direction, asking them to work on the geo profile of the area.
The room they had been offered by the sheriff felt eerily empty without the rest of the team. There was nothing now, just silence and Spencer Reid. The combination was torture, even as hours passed and (y/n) worked through maps. Neither spoke and for the first time since she'd started her internship, they were actually tolerating each other. Until the first roar of thunder found them, and seconds later the lights flickered, a loud metallic clang echoed somewhere down the hallway, and the power went out.
"What was that?" (y/n) pushed out, wide eyes finding Spencer’s.
Spencer frowned at that, they both stood while the emergency lights blinked on moments later as the light had completely gone out. She watched him walk towards the electronic door, hand settling on the handle to push it down, though without any luck. Both froze, there was a beat of silence, then another.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." He pulled harder, nothing. For several moments they simply stared at one another. They were alone, locked inside, no team, no escape. Nothing but the hatred for one another they tried to cling to.
"This is your fault." (Y/n) had crossed her arms, eyes angry while she kept staring at Spencer.
"My fault? I doubt I am at fault for the lighting hitting this building, am I?” His voice was angry, arms also crossed while neither dared to back away from their staring match.
"God, you're impossible." (Y/n) tried to turn from him, but didn’t get far as he spoke once again.
"You think I'm impossible?" She didn’t reply, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling quickly. "Interesting. Because I was thinking the exact same thing about you."
Their voices echoed through the room while the tension that had been building for weeks suddenly felt far too big for the small space around them. She stepped closer with quick steps, finger digging into his chest as she stared up at him.
“I don’t know why my mother is treating you as if you’re such a saint, you’re nothing but an asshole, you’re a fucking fraud, Reid.” Her words drew a humourless chuckle out of him, eyes staring down at her without any true emotion in them.
"And you're an immature child who only gets to work here because of her mother’s contacts." The words hit harder than they should have and Spencer immediately noticed.
"You don't know anything about me." She hated how easily she reacted to his words, how much she struggled to keep her composure whenever he called her that.
"I know enough." Something in her snapped, maybe it was weeks of frustration, maybe it was years of hearing stories about Spencer Reid before she'd ever met him. Or maybe she was simply tired of being looked down on.
"You walk around acting like everyone else is beneath you. You never listen to me, I’m not a fucking child, Reid.” Another humourless laugh, another shake of his head.
"Because half the time you're trying to start an argument." The words did something inside of her, they threw her emotions around as if someone had tried to mix them up like tossed cubes.
"Maybe because it's the only way to get your attention." The words slipped out before she could stop them. Silence followed for a few seconds as Spencer's eyes narrowed slightly. (Y/n) immediately regretted saying it, cheeks growing warmer while she took a step back, forced to another halt as his hand found her wrist.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Spencer asked quietly. The look he gave her made her stomach flip, because for the first time all day, he wasn't looking annoyed. He was looking right through her, like he was profiling her and finally understood something she didn't want him to.
"You want to know the truth?" he eventually asked while pulling (y/n) closer. "I don't hate you and I never did. But I find you irritating."
"Wow, thanks." Once again she tried to step away, though she still had no luck, forced to stay close to the tall man.
"You interrupt everyone and you challenge every opinion I have. But I never hated you. You're distracting, quite frankly you drive me fucking insane." Spencer looked at her and suddenly every sarcastic comment, every argument made a little too much sense. His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth, then returned to her eyes.
"You are unbelievably frustrating," she pushed out. "You think you know everything, you’re not a god."
"And you act like a child sometimes." They were inches apart now, neither willing to back down. (Y/n) should have stepped away, Spencer should have stepped away. Instead he leaned closer, just enough so she could feel his breath fan her skin. And then she moved first. It wasn't soft, it was fueled by months of frustration colliding at once. Spencer made a surprised sound before kissing her back immediately, one hand found her waist, the other tangled in her hair.
(Y/n) grabbed the front of his shirt. The kiss was messy, angry; the kind that happened after too many unsaid things and only made everything more complicated. He pushed her back until she hit a table, arms wrapped around his neck as he pushed her on top of it without breaking the kiss.
Her chest was tight, her heart was racing, but (y/n) felt all her control slipping. She could only give herself to his touch, could only push herself closer while Spencer eventually pulled away to nibble at her throat.
She moaned his name, legs wrapped around his waist to keep him close while her fingers brushed through his curls. (Y/n) should have put an end to it, should have at least halted for a second to think about what they were about to do, but the thoughts were gone the second she felt him undo the button of her jeans, her zip pulled down seconds later.
“Fuck, I have been thinking about this for too long.” His words made her choke on her surprised moan, eyes flickering up to meet his darkening ones as he pushed his hand into her panties, thighs parting instantly to invite him closer. He found her pulsing bundle within seconds, drawing another moan out of her.
(Y/n) could only give herself to him, could only let the tall man nip at her neck while he rubbed her clit, pushing her closer into a sensation she would have never dared to dream of in his closeness. She was panting and could feel his growing bulge through his jeans as she pulled him further against her.
“Will you be a good girl and take my fingers?” His raspy voice made her groan, followed by a nod thrown his way. Spencer pushed out a soft atta girl before his fingers moved down, teasing her for a second before he pushed two inside her, spreading her walls. (Y/n) clung to him, she tugged on his roots as Spencer rested his face against the crook of her neck, inhaling the now familiar scent of her perfume.
Her orgasm was close, it was about to rumble through her while the man she had sworn to hate kept fucking her with his fingers. Spencer didn’t slow down, didn’t back away as her walls began to flutter around him, eventually letting go with a call of his name. He kept fucking her with his fingers, kept watching her fall apart with a grin playing on his lips.
“Jesus Christ, Spencer.” She pushed the words out as he pulled away and licked his fingers clean, eyes not leaving her features once.
“A thank you is also enough.” His chuckles made her roll her eyes, words interrupted by the light flickering back on. Both looked up at the lights for a second before studying one another again. He dipped his head down to kiss her, letting the soft kiss linger before tugging on her lower lip with his teeth. “For the record, you’re still annoying and childish, but I wouldn’t say no to properly fucking you.”
His laugh filled the room seconds later as she had slapped his chest hard enough to make him gasp in surprise.
There is just too much going on atm, so I barely have any time to write, but I wanted to share this quick drabble with y'all! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves! Xxx
Summary: Reader is JJ's daughter and is working as an intern at the BAU, forced to work close with the man who seems to hate her
Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, age gap, enemies to lovers, both hate one another, basically pwp
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (1.8k words)
The first thing (y/n) learned during her internship at the BAU was that profilers could read everyone except themselves. The second thing she learned was that Dr. Spencer Reid absolutely hated her; or at least it felt that way.
Three weeks into her internship, she had become exceptionally talented at getting under Reid's skin. Maybe it was because everyone else treated him like he could do no wrong. Maybe it was because her mother constantly talked about him like he was some kind of genius saint. Or maybe it was because every conversation between them somehow turned into an argument. Whatever the reason, they couldn't seem to exist in the same room without irritating one another.
"Mom says you're supposed to be good at communication," (y/n) pushed out mid argument with him, a fake smile playing on her lips, her voice dripping with something sickenly sweet.
"Your mother also says you're supposed to be filing those reports." She narrowed her eyes, he returned the look, while across the bullpen, Derek let out a laugh.
"Twenty bucks says they kill each other before the semester ends."
"Make it thirty," Emily mumbled, eyes not leaving her report once.
God, she hated him, hated those irritatingly perfect curls, the stupid cardigans, the way he always corrected her professors whenever he visited her university as a guest lecturer. And worst of all, the way he acted like she was a child.
She was in her twenties, an adult and not some little kid running around Quantico.Yet every time she offered an opinion, Spencer somehow found a way to dismiss it, as if she couldn't possibly know what she was talking about, as if she wasn't smart enough.
And perhaps the worst part was that she cared, deeply. Because beneath all the irritation and arguments, she knew exactly what Spencer Reid thought of her: immature, impulsive, a distraction. And maybe that was why every interaction felt like a challenge, because she desperately wanted to prove him wrong.
…
Three days later, the team caught a case in Virginia. Everyone left the station there before sunrise, everyone except Spencer and (y/n), forced to stay behind because Hotch had belted some command into their direction, asking them to work on the geo profile of the area.
The room they had been offered by the sheriff felt eerily empty without the rest of the team. There was nothing now, just silence and Spencer Reid. The combination was torture, even as hours passed and (y/n) worked through maps. Neither spoke and for the first time since she'd started her internship, they were actually tolerating each other. Until the first roar of thunder found them, and seconds later the lights flickered, a loud metallic clang echoed somewhere down the hallway, and the power went out.
"What was that?" (y/n) pushed out, wide eyes finding Spencer’s.
Spencer frowned at that, they both stood while the emergency lights blinked on moments later as the light had completely gone out. She watched him walk towards the electronic door, hand settling on the handle to push it down, though without any luck. Both froze, there was a beat of silence, then another.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." He pulled harder, nothing. For several moments they simply stared at one another. They were alone, locked inside, no team, no escape. Nothing but the hatred for one another they tried to cling to.
"This is your fault." (Y/n) had crossed her arms, eyes angry while she kept staring at Spencer.
"My fault? I doubt I am at fault for the lighting hitting this building, am I?” His voice was angry, arms also crossed while neither dared to back away from their staring match.
"God, you're impossible." (Y/n) tried to turn from him, but didn’t get far as he spoke once again.
"You think I'm impossible?" She didn’t reply, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling quickly. "Interesting. Because I was thinking the exact same thing about you."
Their voices echoed through the room while the tension that had been building for weeks suddenly felt far too big for the small space around them. She stepped closer with quick steps, finger digging into his chest as she stared up at him.
“I don’t know why my mother is treating you as if you’re such a saint, you’re nothing but an asshole, you’re a fucking fraud, Reid.” Her words drew a humourless chuckle out of him, eyes staring down at her without any true emotion in them.
"And you're an immature child who only gets to work here because of her mother’s contacts." The words hit harder than they should have and Spencer immediately noticed.
"You don't know anything about me." She hated how easily she reacted to his words, how much she struggled to keep her composure whenever he called her that.
"I know enough." Something in her snapped, maybe it was weeks of frustration, maybe it was years of hearing stories about Spencer Reid before she'd ever met him. Or maybe she was simply tired of being looked down on.
"You walk around acting like everyone else is beneath you. You never listen to me, I’m not a fucking child, Reid.” Another humourless laugh, another shake of his head.
"Because half the time you're trying to start an argument." The words did something inside of her, they threw her emotions around as if someone had tried to mix them up like tossed cubes.
"Maybe because it's the only way to get your attention." The words slipped out before she could stop them. Silence followed for a few seconds as Spencer's eyes narrowed slightly. (Y/n) immediately regretted saying it, cheeks growing warmer while she took a step back, forced to another halt as his hand found her wrist.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Spencer asked quietly. The look he gave her made her stomach flip, because for the first time all day, he wasn't looking annoyed. He was looking right through her, like he was profiling her and finally understood something she didn't want him to.
"You want to know the truth?" he eventually asked while pulling (y/n) closer. "I don't hate you and I never did. But I find you irritating."
"Wow, thanks." Once again she tried to step away, though she still had no luck, forced to stay close to the tall man.
"You interrupt everyone and you challenge every opinion I have. But I never hated you. You're distracting, quite frankly you drive me fucking insane." Spencer looked at her and suddenly every sarcastic comment, every argument made a little too much sense. His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth, then returned to her eyes.
"You are unbelievably frustrating," she pushed out. "You think you know everything, you’re not a god."
"And you act like a child sometimes." They were inches apart now, neither willing to back down. (Y/n) should have stepped away, Spencer should have stepped away. Instead he leaned closer, just enough so she could feel his breath fan her skin. And then she moved first. It wasn't soft, it was fueled by months of frustration colliding at once. Spencer made a surprised sound before kissing her back immediately, one hand found her waist, the other tangled in her hair.
(Y/n) grabbed the front of his shirt. The kiss was messy, angry; the kind that happened after too many unsaid things and only made everything more complicated. He pushed her back until she hit a table, arms wrapped around his neck as he pushed her on top of it without breaking the kiss.
Her chest was tight, her heart was racing, but (y/n) felt all her control slipping. She could only give herself to his touch, could only push herself closer while Spencer eventually pulled away to nibble at her throat.
She moaned his name, legs wrapped around his waist to keep him close while her fingers brushed through his curls. (Y/n) should have put an end to it, should have at least halted for a second to think about what they were about to do, but the thoughts were gone the second she felt him undo the button of her jeans, her zip pulled down seconds later.
“Fuck, I have been thinking about this for too long.” His words made her choke on her surprised moan, eyes flickering up to meet his darkening ones as he pushed his hand into her panties, thighs parting instantly to invite him closer. He found her pulsing bundle within seconds, drawing another moan out of her.
(Y/n) could only give herself to him, could only let the tall man nip at her neck while he rubbed her clit, pushing her closer into a sensation she would have never dared to dream of in his closeness. She was panting and could feel his growing bulge through his jeans as she pulled him further against her.
“Will you be a good girl and take my fingers?” His raspy voice made her groan, followed by a nod thrown his way. Spencer pushed out a soft atta girl before his fingers moved down, teasing her for a second before he pushed two inside her, spreading her walls. (Y/n) clung to him, she tugged on his roots as Spencer rested his face against the crook of her neck, inhaling the now familiar scent of her perfume.
Her orgasm was close, it was about to rumble through her while the man she had sworn to hate kept fucking her with his fingers. Spencer didn’t slow down, didn’t back away as her walls began to flutter around him, eventually letting go with a call of his name. He kept fucking her with his fingers, kept watching her fall apart with a grin playing on his lips.
“Jesus Christ, Spencer.” She pushed the words out as he pulled away and licked his fingers clean, eyes not leaving her features once.
“A thank you is also enough.” His chuckles made her roll her eyes, words interrupted by the light flickering back on. Both looked up at the lights for a second before studying one another again. He dipped his head down to kiss her, letting the soft kiss linger before tugging on her lower lip with his teeth. “For the record, you’re still annoying and childish, but I wouldn’t say no to properly fucking you.”
His laugh filled the room seconds later as she had slapped his chest hard enough to make him gasp in surprise.
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This came to me while listening to "Tempest" by Ethel Cain. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. Xxx
Summary: Dean and reader were best friends once, teenagers who kept close while she was desperately in love, but he had left eventually without a warning after she had confessed her feelings, now, years later, their paths cross again
Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, handjob, fingering, friends to lovers, reunited after years
Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (3.3k words)
The diner looked like it had been forgotten by God somewhere around 1987. Its neon sign buzzed weakly against the dark, throwing pink and blue light across an empty parking lot slick with rain. The highway stretched endlessly in both directions, a black ribbon cutting through fields that seemed to have no beginning and no end.
She wasn’t supposed to be here, a thought which had been circling her mind for the last thirty miles. Places like this had a way of digging up things that should've stayed buried after all.
The bell above the diner's door chimed when she stepped inside and the warmth hit (y/n) first, followed by the smell of burnt coffee and frying grease. It was supposed to be a quick stop, a place to grab some food and coffee before driving to her next hunt, a town a couple hundred miles over. A plan that was interrupted as her eyes settled on the frame of a ghost of her past.
For a second, her brain refused to make sense of what her eyes were seeing. A man sat alone in one of the booths, broad shoulders hunched beneath a worn leather jacket. One hand wrapped around a coffee mug, the other drummed absently against the countertop. He was older. The sharp edges of boyhood sanded down into something rougher, but he was still unmistakably himself. Dean Winchester.
The breath left her lungs as he looked up and froze. The years between them collapsed instantly, suddenly small enough to step over, nothing but rubble at their feet. She knew that face, not this version of it, the stubble, the tired eyes, the lines etched around his mouth, but the bones underneath. The same boy who used to sneak cigarettes behind Sonny’s home and swear he'd leave the second summer was over. The same boy who'd climb onto the roof when he couldn't sleep. The same boy who'd looked at her one summer night and confessed, in a voice barely above a whisper, that he was terrified of becoming his father.
Dean stood so abruptly the coffee in his mug almost spilt over. For a moment neither of them spoke as rain still rattled softly against the windows. A country song crackled through old speakers overhead, but then Dean laughed once.
"No fucking way." She stepped closer and smiled despite herself.
"Hi, Dean." His expression shifted, shock giving way to recognition, which gave way to something warmer, something far more dangerous. Because people changed, years passed, lives happened, but some feelings didn't know how to die. Dean looked at her like he'd spent a decade trying to forget her face and had failed every single day. And suddenly the diner felt far too small, far too warm, far too full of ghosts.
“What are you doing here? Do you live here?” She sat down across from him, eyes not daring to leave him once while she told Dean she was just passing through, just like him.
Three cups of coffee later neither of them had moved while the rain outside had only gotten worse. It came down in sheets, blurring the windows until the world beyond them looked washed away entirely.
Dean had spent the last hour trying not to stare, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it. She had changed, of course she had. The awkward teenager he'd known was gone and in her place sat someone harder around the edges.
"You seriously hunt?" She smirked over the rim of her coffee mug, pleased with the surprise he seemingly couldn’t shake.
"That's what I've been telling you for twenty minutes, Dean." Dean shook his head at her words, he leaned back in the booth, broad shoulders pressed against the old leather.
"No, I heard you. I'm just trying to figure out where the hell I missed that chapter."
"You left before you got to read it." The words slipped out before either of them could stop them. Silence settled between the two for a moment while Dean's jaw tightened.
(Y/n) looked away first. Outside, thunder rolled across the distant fields, the waitress appeared with the check, saving him from having to answer and Dean paid before she could argue. Some things seemingly never changed, he’d always try to look after her.
The two stepped outside together while cold rain-scented air rushed over the parking lot. The neon sign flickered overhead as Dean followed her to her old truck, leaning against it while he tried to soak in every second they were offered.
"No surprise she is yours now" The both of them glanced at the Chevy while (y/n) spoke. She laughed quietly, a sound tugging something in his chest, the same way it always had. The storm cracked overhead, another flash of lightning illuminated the empty highway. Dean looked up at the sky and then back at her.
"You got somewhere to stay?" She hesitated at the question, all too aware that she needed to leave soon enough, called away by the hunt she needed to get over and done with, but leaving was no choice, at least not now. "Sam's out on a case, I’ve got a spare bed if you want to crash there and keep talking for a bit."
The rain drummed steadily around them. Part of (y/n) wanted to say no; part of her knew saying yes was a terrible idea. Because the problem wasn't sharing a motel room, the problem was Dean, the problem had always been Dean.
"You sure?" He laughed, a sound shooting an almost uncomfortable wave of heat through her body.
"Trust me, sweetheart. I've fought vampires with less risk involved." The nickname hit harder than it should have and she hated that it did. Dean seemed to realize it too as his smile faded and the space between them suddenly felt much smaller.
"I mean it," he tried again quietly. "You can stay."
(Y/n) looked at him for a long moment, at the tired eyes, the familiar face. The man who had disappeared one morning without so much as a note. The man who had left her standing outside Sonny’s looking for him for three days afterward. The man who'd listened to her confess her feelings one night beneath a broken porch light and vanished the next morning.
"Why'd you do it?" Dean froze, the question clearly wasn't the one he'd expected. "Back then."
His expression changed immediately, she saw recognition flash across his face, followed by guilt, a lot of guilt. The storm suddenly felt very far away as she spoke again. "You know which day I mean."
Dean looked down and for the first time all night, he didn't have a joke ready, didn't have a smart answer, didn't have anything. The silence stretched, but finally he exhaled slowly.
"You told me you loved me." Dean dragged a hand across the back of his neck as the words hung between them. Lightning flashed somewhere beyond the fields and Dean's voice was rough when he spoke again. "But I didn't leave because of that."
"Then why?" He looked at her, really looked at (y/n). And for a second she saw something vulnerable underneath all the armour.
"Because I wanted to stay. I was young, I had a dad who was always halfway out the door. A little brother who depended on me, no money, no future. I knew if I stayed, I'd never leave. But there was too much on the line, too much I couldn’t risk.” Something twisted painfully in her chest. The confession settled heavily between them, years of resentment suddenly colliding with years of understanding. Neither one made the hurt disappear, but they changed its shape somehow.
"I'm sorry." The words were barely above a whisper. Dean looked exhausted, like he'd been carrying that answer for a very long time. She kept staring at him, the boy she’d loved. The man standing in front of her now, still infuriating, still impossible, still her Dean.
“Follow me to the motel, and if you want to leave later, you’re free to go. Promise, I just want to spend some more time catching up with you.” With a heavy sigh leaving her, she nodded, turned away from him and started the car, set on following Dean to the motel.
***
The motel wasn't much to look at, flickering vacancy sign, peeling paint, questionable carpet. The kind of place Dean Winchester had spent half his life in. She stood just inside the door while he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the chair in the corner. Two beds, one small table, a television that looked older than both of them. Home sweet home.
Dean disappeared briefly into the tiny kitchenette area and came back carrying two beers. The bottle hissed softly when she twisted the cap off and let her eyes wander again. The room glowed gold beneath the old lamp beside Dean's bed. Comfortable silence lingered between them for now, while Dean sat on the edge of one mattress, (y/n) settling onto the other, facing him.
"What?" She only shook her head with a laugh and mumbled a soft “Nothing”.
"Bull." Another laugh and there it was. Dean Winchester, still incapable of letting anything go. So, she shifted on the bed, legs pulled to her chest while she had one arm wrapped around them.
"You look older." Dean groaned at her words, took a sip of the beer and threw his pillow at her, missing her only by a few inches.
"Fighting monsters isn't exactly a skincare routine, mind you." She only smiled at his words and the sight made something soften in his expression, followed by a smile tugging on his own lips. God, (y/n) had missed that smile and the way it reached his eyes, the way it made him look younger.
"So." Dean cleared his throat while leaning back against the pillows. "Tell me everything."
"Everything?" She snorted at that, wondering how she would be able to squeeze all what had happened into one evening. He only nodded and then the next hour slipped by easier than expected. They talked about hunts, near deaths, stupid mistakes, and people they both had lost. The years that had stretched between them began shrinking one story at a time.
Dean told her about Sam, about Bobby, about the bunker, about things he couldn't quite explain without sounding insane. While she told him about learning to hunt, about being alone, about figuring things out herself, and about the nights she had wished someone would show up and tell her what the hell she was doing.
Dean listened carefully, the way he always had, like every word mattered. At some point the beers became empty bottles on the table, and at some point midnight came and went while the conversation drifted back toward the thing neither of them had truly stopped thinking about. The night before he left.
"You know," Dean rolled his bottle slowly between his palms and (y/n) instantly knew where this was going. His eyes stayed fixed on the label. "I thought about that night a lot. You scared the hell out of me with your confession. Nobody had ever said something like that to me before." The vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard.
"I did mean it, if that still counts." (Y/n) whispered the words while looking away herself, unable to look at the man any longer.
"I know." The answer came immediately without any hesitation or doubt. "I always knew."
The room suddenly felt too small, too warm while uncomfortableness clung to her. The conversation had turned unexpectedly heavy, something neither of them enjoyed.
"You never answered, Dean, you do know that, right?" His jaw shifted as the old guilt returned. "You just left."
His eyes closed briefly, he took the last sip of his bottle and placed it down on the ground while he let go of a sigh. "You wanna know something pathetic? I had an answer. Actually, scratch that, I always have the same answer."
The world seemed to stop, outside, inside, everywhere. She stared at him while Dean stared right back. There were no jokes, no deflections, nothing to hide behind anymore.
"You felt the same?" His expression softened at her confused words, so much it almost hurt.
"Yeah, course I did.” The single word settled somewhere deep inside her. Years of wondering, years of hurt, years of imagining a hundred different possibilities. Gone, just like that. "I was in love with you, (y/n), ever since I met you"
The confession hung between them and her eyes burned unexpectedly. Dean noticed, of course he noticed, he always had. He rose to his feet, let a few seconds pass and then sat down next to her, shoulder to shoulder, both their eyes focused on the ground.
"I spent years convincing myself I imagined it." Dean's face tightened at her trembling voice, eyes finally flickering up to look at her side profile.
"You didn't." His gaze never left (y/n)’s. The room went silent again, filled with years finally catching up to both of them. She forced herself to look at him again, he sat close enough now that she could see every line in his face, every scar, every year, and somehow still see the boy underneath.
His eyes dropped briefly to her mouth and stayed there. The tension that had followed them all evening finally snapped like a wave reaching shore. Dean lifted a hand, slow enough for her to stop him, which she didn’t. His fingers brushed her cheek, a touch so gentle it almost broke her heart. Then he leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't rushed, wasn't desperate, perhaps it should have been. All those years of missed chances and unanswered questions should have made it desperate, instead it felt careful as if both of them were making sure the other was real.
Everything that had been left unsaid, everything that had survived was now finally answered. Dean rested his forehead against hers when he pulled away, breathing hard. But she didn’t let him pull away further, hands settling on his neck to kiss him again, deeper this time around.
Without breaking the kiss, Dean helped her into his lap, thighs pressed together, hearts racing in sync, lips unable to part. It was perfect, so perfect both couldn’t help but mourn the time they could have used for moments like these. She gave him a push back, letting him lay on the bed while her mouth kissed its way down his throat, fingers disappearing beneath his shirt.
Too much time had passed, too many lost moments, there was no time for anymore waiting. He helped her pull the shirt over his head before his hands took care of hers, bra following moments later. Dean sat back up to kiss at her chest, leaving marks on soft spots which made her skin tingle in excitement, letting heat pool between her thighs.
“I always wondered how it must feel to touch you, I hate myself for not letting us experience this earlier.” She shut him up with another kiss, body filled with too many emotions to speak. Her fingers explored his soft skin, she traced his tattoo, his rough muscles, before undoing the button of his jeans, feeling what her touch was doing to him.
She pulled him free from his boxers, letting her eyes flicker back to his for a second as if checking in to see if he was doing alright, but Dean could only moan at her touch, hips jerking to force her to move. She spat onto the tip, saliva lubing him up before (y/n) began pumping him, slow at first, exploring the soft skin with careful touches. His groans urged her on, begging her to move faster, to pump him with enough pressure to make him see stars.
“You’re too good at this.” He panted the words, which drew a proud chuckle from her. She was concentrated on the task, on the speed she used to move her hand, not daring to break the rhythm until Dean eventually pushed her away, needing to focus on her before he could cum.
“Lay down, show me what I’ve been missing out on.” (Y/n) gave in to the command, she placed herself down on the mattress, got rid of her clothes while Dean undressed himself before returning to her. He lingered between her thighs, keeping them open with his knees as his eyes took in her naked frame. Their lips met for another kiss while his fingers brushed through her wetness, spreading it on her skin and pulsing bundle before pushing a finger inside her.
Her moans filled the room, she clung to him with her fingernails leaving marks on his strong back, etching her touches into the body she had always wanted to feel pressed against her. Dean was careful with his touch, yet he used just enough pressure to make her tremble beneath him. He circled her clit, pushed her further and further into the waves of pleasure while brushing against that sweet spot inside of her.
It was a sight so beautiful, he wondered if he was dreaming it. It felt too good, too real to be something this perfect. But Dean didn’t dare break the moment, he didn’t care if it was just a dream, not as he finally got the chance to have her like this.
“Can I fuck you now? I need to be inside you, sweetheart.” She nodded at him with glassy eyes, teeth buried in her lower lip while she tried to calm herself down from the waves of pleasure threatening to drown her. He reached for a condom, ripped it open with his teeth, and rolled it down onto his cock.
Their fingers found together as he pushed into her, spreading her walls around him while both let go of a groan at the sensation. Dean allowed her to adjust, not set on hurrying her while she breathed heavily. But the second he felt her relax, he began to move, fucking her with a comfortable rythym both found enjoyment in. They clung to one another, foreheads pressed together, hearts racing.
“Dean,” she choked out his name as (y/n) threw her head back while feeling his fingers on her pulsing bundle. He kept circling the spot, kept fucking her deeper and deeper while groaning her name over and over again like a prayer spoken to set them both free.
She came first with a cry, fingernails leaving a few scratches on his back, proud memories he’d carry for a while. He kept fucking her, kept guiding her through her orgasm while chasing his own, eventually giving in with another deep, raspy sound which made her tremble once more.
For a while neither of them felt the need to fill the silence, bodies pressed together, hearts slowing down their racing beats. Dean lay beside her, one arm draped lazily across her waist, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns against her side.
“I won’t disappear this time, I promise. And if you’ll still have me after all those years, I’m yours.” She turned her head just enough to find him already looking at her. Her emotions overwhelmed her, they choked her, so she could only nod at him, jaw clenched, eyes teary.
For the first time in a long time, the future didn't feel like something waiting to take him from her. It felt like something the two of them might actually reach together.
This came to me while listening to "Tempest" by Ethel Cain. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. Xxx
Summary: Dean and reader were best friends once, teenagers who kept close while she was desperately in love, but he had left eventually without a warning after she had confessed her feelings, now, years later, their paths cross again
Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, handjob, fingering, friends to lovers, reunited after years
Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (3.3k words)
The diner looked like it had been forgotten by God somewhere around 1987. Its neon sign buzzed weakly against the dark, throwing pink and blue light across an empty parking lot slick with rain. The highway stretched endlessly in both directions, a black ribbon cutting through fields that seemed to have no beginning and no end.
She wasn’t supposed to be here, a thought which had been circling her mind for the last thirty miles. Places like this had a way of digging up things that should've stayed buried after all.
The bell above the diner's door chimed when she stepped inside and the warmth hit (y/n) first, followed by the smell of burnt coffee and frying grease. It was supposed to be a quick stop, a place to grab some food and coffee before driving to her next hunt, a town a couple hundred miles over. A plan that was interrupted as her eyes settled on the frame of a ghost of her past.
For a second, her brain refused to make sense of what her eyes were seeing. A man sat alone in one of the booths, broad shoulders hunched beneath a worn leather jacket. One hand wrapped around a coffee mug, the other drummed absently against the countertop. He was older. The sharp edges of boyhood sanded down into something rougher, but he was still unmistakably himself. Dean Winchester.
The breath left her lungs as he looked up and froze. The years between them collapsed instantly, suddenly small enough to step over, nothing but rubble at their feet. She knew that face, not this version of it, the stubble, the tired eyes, the lines etched around his mouth, but the bones underneath. The same boy who used to sneak cigarettes behind Sonny’s home and swear he'd leave the second summer was over. The same boy who'd climb onto the roof when he couldn't sleep. The same boy who'd looked at her one summer night and confessed, in a voice barely above a whisper, that he was terrified of becoming his father.
Dean stood so abruptly the coffee in his mug almost spilt over. For a moment neither of them spoke as rain still rattled softly against the windows. A country song crackled through old speakers overhead, but then Dean laughed once.
"No fucking way." She stepped closer and smiled despite herself.
"Hi, Dean." His expression shifted, shock giving way to recognition, which gave way to something warmer, something far more dangerous. Because people changed, years passed, lives happened, but some feelings didn't know how to die. Dean looked at her like he'd spent a decade trying to forget her face and had failed every single day. And suddenly the diner felt far too small, far too warm, far too full of ghosts.
“What are you doing here? Do you live here?” She sat down across from him, eyes not daring to leave him once while she told Dean she was just passing through, just like him.
Three cups of coffee later neither of them had moved while the rain outside had only gotten worse. It came down in sheets, blurring the windows until the world beyond them looked washed away entirely.
Dean had spent the last hour trying not to stare, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it. She had changed, of course she had. The awkward teenager he'd known was gone and in her place sat someone harder around the edges.
"You seriously hunt?" She smirked over the rim of her coffee mug, pleased with the surprise he seemingly couldn’t shake.
"That's what I've been telling you for twenty minutes, Dean." Dean shook his head at her words, he leaned back in the booth, broad shoulders pressed against the old leather.
"No, I heard you. I'm just trying to figure out where the hell I missed that chapter."
"You left before you got to read it." The words slipped out before either of them could stop them. Silence settled between the two for a moment while Dean's jaw tightened.
(Y/n) looked away first. Outside, thunder rolled across the distant fields, the waitress appeared with the check, saving him from having to answer and Dean paid before she could argue. Some things seemingly never changed, he’d always try to look after her.
The two stepped outside together while cold rain-scented air rushed over the parking lot. The neon sign flickered overhead as Dean followed her to her old truck, leaning against it while he tried to soak in every second they were offered.
"No surprise she is yours now" The both of them glanced at the Chevy while (y/n) spoke. She laughed quietly, a sound tugging something in his chest, the same way it always had. The storm cracked overhead, another flash of lightning illuminated the empty highway. Dean looked up at the sky and then back at her.
"You got somewhere to stay?" She hesitated at the question, all too aware that she needed to leave soon enough, called away by the hunt she needed to get over and done with, but leaving was no choice, at least not now. "Sam's out on a case, I’ve got a spare bed if you want to crash there and keep talking for a bit."
The rain drummed steadily around them. Part of (y/n) wanted to say no; part of her knew saying yes was a terrible idea. Because the problem wasn't sharing a motel room, the problem was Dean, the problem had always been Dean.
"You sure?" He laughed, a sound shooting an almost uncomfortable wave of heat through her body.
"Trust me, sweetheart. I've fought vampires with less risk involved." The nickname hit harder than it should have and she hated that it did. Dean seemed to realize it too as his smile faded and the space between them suddenly felt much smaller.
"I mean it," he tried again quietly. "You can stay."
(Y/n) looked at him for a long moment, at the tired eyes, the familiar face. The man who had disappeared one morning without so much as a note. The man who had left her standing outside Sonny’s looking for him for three days afterward. The man who'd listened to her confess her feelings one night beneath a broken porch light and vanished the next morning.
"Why'd you do it?" Dean froze, the question clearly wasn't the one he'd expected. "Back then."
His expression changed immediately, she saw recognition flash across his face, followed by guilt, a lot of guilt. The storm suddenly felt very far away as she spoke again. "You know which day I mean."
Dean looked down and for the first time all night, he didn't have a joke ready, didn't have a smart answer, didn't have anything. The silence stretched, but finally he exhaled slowly.
"You told me you loved me." Dean dragged a hand across the back of his neck as the words hung between them. Lightning flashed somewhere beyond the fields and Dean's voice was rough when he spoke again. "But I didn't leave because of that."
"Then why?" He looked at her, really looked at (y/n). And for a second she saw something vulnerable underneath all the armour.
"Because I wanted to stay. I was young, I had a dad who was always halfway out the door. A little brother who depended on me, no money, no future. I knew if I stayed, I'd never leave. But there was too much on the line, too much I couldn’t risk.” Something twisted painfully in her chest. The confession settled heavily between them, years of resentment suddenly colliding with years of understanding. Neither one made the hurt disappear, but they changed its shape somehow.
"I'm sorry." The words were barely above a whisper. Dean looked exhausted, like he'd been carrying that answer for a very long time. She kept staring at him, the boy she’d loved. The man standing in front of her now, still infuriating, still impossible, still her Dean.
“Follow me to the motel, and if you want to leave later, you’re free to go. Promise, I just want to spend some more time catching up with you.” With a heavy sigh leaving her, she nodded, turned away from him and started the car, set on following Dean to the motel.
***
The motel wasn't much to look at, flickering vacancy sign, peeling paint, questionable carpet. The kind of place Dean Winchester had spent half his life in. She stood just inside the door while he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the chair in the corner. Two beds, one small table, a television that looked older than both of them. Home sweet home.
Dean disappeared briefly into the tiny kitchenette area and came back carrying two beers. The bottle hissed softly when she twisted the cap off and let her eyes wander again. The room glowed gold beneath the old lamp beside Dean's bed. Comfortable silence lingered between them for now, while Dean sat on the edge of one mattress, (y/n) settling onto the other, facing him.
"What?" She only shook her head with a laugh and mumbled a soft “Nothing”.
"Bull." Another laugh and there it was. Dean Winchester, still incapable of letting anything go. So, she shifted on the bed, legs pulled to her chest while she had one arm wrapped around them.
"You look older." Dean groaned at her words, took a sip of the beer and threw his pillow at her, missing her only by a few inches.
"Fighting monsters isn't exactly a skincare routine, mind you." She only smiled at his words and the sight made something soften in his expression, followed by a smile tugging on his own lips. God, (y/n) had missed that smile and the way it reached his eyes, the way it made him look younger.
"So." Dean cleared his throat while leaning back against the pillows. "Tell me everything."
"Everything?" She snorted at that, wondering how she would be able to squeeze all what had happened into one evening. He only nodded and then the next hour slipped by easier than expected. They talked about hunts, near deaths, stupid mistakes, and people they both had lost. The years that had stretched between them began shrinking one story at a time.
Dean told her about Sam, about Bobby, about the bunker, about things he couldn't quite explain without sounding insane. While she told him about learning to hunt, about being alone, about figuring things out herself, and about the nights she had wished someone would show up and tell her what the hell she was doing.
Dean listened carefully, the way he always had, like every word mattered. At some point the beers became empty bottles on the table, and at some point midnight came and went while the conversation drifted back toward the thing neither of them had truly stopped thinking about. The night before he left.
"You know," Dean rolled his bottle slowly between his palms and (y/n) instantly knew where this was going. His eyes stayed fixed on the label. "I thought about that night a lot. You scared the hell out of me with your confession. Nobody had ever said something like that to me before." The vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard.
"I did mean it, if that still counts." (Y/n) whispered the words while looking away herself, unable to look at the man any longer.
"I know." The answer came immediately without any hesitation or doubt. "I always knew."
The room suddenly felt too small, too warm while uncomfortableness clung to her. The conversation had turned unexpectedly heavy, something neither of them enjoyed.
"You never answered, Dean, you do know that, right?" His jaw shifted as the old guilt returned. "You just left."
His eyes closed briefly, he took the last sip of his bottle and placed it down on the ground while he let go of a sigh. "You wanna know something pathetic? I had an answer. Actually, scratch that, I always have the same answer."
The world seemed to stop, outside, inside, everywhere. She stared at him while Dean stared right back. There were no jokes, no deflections, nothing to hide behind anymore.
"You felt the same?" His expression softened at her confused words, so much it almost hurt.
"Yeah, course I did.” The single word settled somewhere deep inside her. Years of wondering, years of hurt, years of imagining a hundred different possibilities. Gone, just like that. "I was in love with you, (y/n), ever since I met you"
The confession hung between them and her eyes burned unexpectedly. Dean noticed, of course he noticed, he always had. He rose to his feet, let a few seconds pass and then sat down next to her, shoulder to shoulder, both their eyes focused on the ground.
"I spent years convincing myself I imagined it." Dean's face tightened at her trembling voice, eyes finally flickering up to look at her side profile.
"You didn't." His gaze never left (y/n)’s. The room went silent again, filled with years finally catching up to both of them. She forced herself to look at him again, he sat close enough now that she could see every line in his face, every scar, every year, and somehow still see the boy underneath.
His eyes dropped briefly to her mouth and stayed there. The tension that had followed them all evening finally snapped like a wave reaching shore. Dean lifted a hand, slow enough for her to stop him, which she didn’t. His fingers brushed her cheek, a touch so gentle it almost broke her heart. Then he leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't rushed, wasn't desperate, perhaps it should have been. All those years of missed chances and unanswered questions should have made it desperate, instead it felt careful as if both of them were making sure the other was real.
Everything that had been left unsaid, everything that had survived was now finally answered. Dean rested his forehead against hers when he pulled away, breathing hard. But she didn’t let him pull away further, hands settling on his neck to kiss him again, deeper this time around.
Without breaking the kiss, Dean helped her into his lap, thighs pressed together, hearts racing in sync, lips unable to part. It was perfect, so perfect both couldn’t help but mourn the time they could have used for moments like these. She gave him a push back, letting him lay on the bed while her mouth kissed its way down his throat, fingers disappearing beneath his shirt.
Too much time had passed, too many lost moments, there was no time for anymore waiting. He helped her pull the shirt over his head before his hands took care of hers, bra following moments later. Dean sat back up to kiss at her chest, leaving marks on soft spots which made her skin tingle in excitement, letting heat pool between her thighs.
“I always wondered how it must feel to touch you, I hate myself for not letting us experience this earlier.” She shut him up with another kiss, body filled with too many emotions to speak. Her fingers explored his soft skin, she traced his tattoo, his rough muscles, before undoing the button of his jeans, feeling what her touch was doing to him.
She pulled him free from his boxers, letting her eyes flicker back to his for a second as if checking in to see if he was doing alright, but Dean could only moan at her touch, hips jerking to force her to move. She spat onto the tip, saliva lubing him up before (y/n) began pumping him, slow at first, exploring the soft skin with careful touches. His groans urged her on, begging her to move faster, to pump him with enough pressure to make him see stars.
“You’re too good at this.” He panted the words, which drew a proud chuckle from her. She was concentrated on the task, on the speed she used to move her hand, not daring to break the rhythm until Dean eventually pushed her away, needing to focus on her before he could cum.
“Lay down, show me what I’ve been missing out on.” (Y/n) gave in to the command, she placed herself down on the mattress, got rid of her clothes while Dean undressed himself before returning to her. He lingered between her thighs, keeping them open with his knees as his eyes took in her naked frame. Their lips met for another kiss while his fingers brushed through her wetness, spreading it on her skin and pulsing bundle before pushing a finger inside her.
Her moans filled the room, she clung to him with her fingernails leaving marks on his strong back, etching her touches into the body she had always wanted to feel pressed against her. Dean was careful with his touch, yet he used just enough pressure to make her tremble beneath him. He circled her clit, pushed her further and further into the waves of pleasure while brushing against that sweet spot inside of her.
It was a sight so beautiful, he wondered if he was dreaming it. It felt too good, too real to be something this perfect. But Dean didn’t dare break the moment, he didn’t care if it was just a dream, not as he finally got the chance to have her like this.
“Can I fuck you now? I need to be inside you, sweetheart.” She nodded at him with glassy eyes, teeth buried in her lower lip while she tried to calm herself down from the waves of pleasure threatening to drown her. He reached for a condom, ripped it open with his teeth, and rolled it down onto his cock.
Their fingers found together as he pushed into her, spreading her walls around him while both let go of a groan at the sensation. Dean allowed her to adjust, not set on hurrying her while she breathed heavily. But the second he felt her relax, he began to move, fucking her with a comfortable rythym both found enjoyment in. They clung to one another, foreheads pressed together, hearts racing.
“Dean,” she choked out his name as (y/n) threw her head back while feeling his fingers on her pulsing bundle. He kept circling the spot, kept fucking her deeper and deeper while groaning her name over and over again like a prayer spoken to set them both free.
She came first with a cry, fingernails leaving a few scratches on his back, proud memories he’d carry for a while. He kept fucking her, kept guiding her through her orgasm while chasing his own, eventually giving in with another deep, raspy sound which made her tremble once more.
For a while neither of them felt the need to fill the silence, bodies pressed together, hearts slowing down their racing beats. Dean lay beside her, one arm draped lazily across her waist, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns against her side.
“I won’t disappear this time, I promise. And if you’ll still have me after all those years, I’m yours.” She turned her head just enough to find him already looking at her. Her emotions overwhelmed her, they choked her, so she could only nod at him, jaw clenched, eyes teary.
For the first time in a long time, the future didn't feel like something waiting to take him from her. It felt like something the two of them might actually reach together.
This came to me while listening to "Tempest" by Ethel Cain. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. Xxx
Summary: Dean and reader were best friends once, teenagers who kept close while she was desperately in love, but he had left eventually without a warning after she had confessed her feelings, now, years later, their paths cross again
Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, handjob, fingering, friends to lovers, reunited after years
Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (3.3k words)
The diner looked like it had been forgotten by God somewhere around 1987. Its neon sign buzzed weakly against the dark, throwing pink and blue light across an empty parking lot slick with rain. The highway stretched endlessly in both directions, a black ribbon cutting through fields that seemed to have no beginning and no end.
She wasn’t supposed to be here, a thought which had been circling her mind for the last thirty miles. Places like this had a way of digging up things that should've stayed buried after all.
The bell above the diner's door chimed when she stepped inside and the warmth hit (y/n) first, followed by the smell of burnt coffee and frying grease. It was supposed to be a quick stop, a place to grab some food and coffee before driving to her next hunt, a town a couple hundred miles over. A plan that was interrupted as her eyes settled on the frame of a ghost of her past.
For a second, her brain refused to make sense of what her eyes were seeing. A man sat alone in one of the booths, broad shoulders hunched beneath a worn leather jacket. One hand wrapped around a coffee mug, the other drummed absently against the countertop. He was older. The sharp edges of boyhood sanded down into something rougher, but he was still unmistakably himself. Dean Winchester.
The breath left her lungs as he looked up and froze. The years between them collapsed instantly, suddenly small enough to step over, nothing but rubble at their feet. She knew that face, not this version of it, the stubble, the tired eyes, the lines etched around his mouth, but the bones underneath. The same boy who used to sneak cigarettes behind Sonny’s home and swear he'd leave the second summer was over. The same boy who'd climb onto the roof when he couldn't sleep. The same boy who'd looked at her one summer night and confessed, in a voice barely above a whisper, that he was terrified of becoming his father.
Dean stood so abruptly the coffee in his mug almost spilt over. For a moment neither of them spoke as rain still rattled softly against the windows. A country song crackled through old speakers overhead, but then Dean laughed once.
"No fucking way." She stepped closer and smiled despite herself.
"Hi, Dean." His expression shifted, shock giving way to recognition, which gave way to something warmer, something far more dangerous. Because people changed, years passed, lives happened, but some feelings didn't know how to die. Dean looked at her like he'd spent a decade trying to forget her face and had failed every single day. And suddenly the diner felt far too small, far too warm, far too full of ghosts.
“What are you doing here? Do you live here?” She sat down across from him, eyes not daring to leave him once while she told Dean she was just passing through, just like him.
Three cups of coffee later neither of them had moved while the rain outside had only gotten worse. It came down in sheets, blurring the windows until the world beyond them looked washed away entirely.
Dean had spent the last hour trying not to stare, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it. She had changed, of course she had. The awkward teenager he'd known was gone and in her place sat someone harder around the edges.
"You seriously hunt?" She smirked over the rim of her coffee mug, pleased with the surprise he seemingly couldn’t shake.
"That's what I've been telling you for twenty minutes, Dean." Dean shook his head at her words, he leaned back in the booth, broad shoulders pressed against the old leather.
"No, I heard you. I'm just trying to figure out where the hell I missed that chapter."
"You left before you got to read it." The words slipped out before either of them could stop them. Silence settled between the two for a moment while Dean's jaw tightened.
(Y/n) looked away first. Outside, thunder rolled across the distant fields, the waitress appeared with the check, saving him from having to answer and Dean paid before she could argue. Some things seemingly never changed, he’d always try to look after her.
The two stepped outside together while cold rain-scented air rushed over the parking lot. The neon sign flickered overhead as Dean followed her to her old truck, leaning against it while he tried to soak in every second they were offered.
"No surprise she is yours now" The both of them glanced at the Chevy while (y/n) spoke. She laughed quietly, a sound tugging something in his chest, the same way it always had. The storm cracked overhead, another flash of lightning illuminated the empty highway. Dean looked up at the sky and then back at her.
"You got somewhere to stay?" She hesitated at the question, all too aware that she needed to leave soon enough, called away by the hunt she needed to get over and done with, but leaving was no choice, at least not now. "Sam's out on a case, I’ve got a spare bed if you want to crash there and keep talking for a bit."
The rain drummed steadily around them. Part of (y/n) wanted to say no; part of her knew saying yes was a terrible idea. Because the problem wasn't sharing a motel room, the problem was Dean, the problem had always been Dean.
"You sure?" He laughed, a sound shooting an almost uncomfortable wave of heat through her body.
"Trust me, sweetheart. I've fought vampires with less risk involved." The nickname hit harder than it should have and she hated that it did. Dean seemed to realize it too as his smile faded and the space between them suddenly felt much smaller.
"I mean it," he tried again quietly. "You can stay."
(Y/n) looked at him for a long moment, at the tired eyes, the familiar face. The man who had disappeared one morning without so much as a note. The man who had left her standing outside Sonny’s looking for him for three days afterward. The man who'd listened to her confess her feelings one night beneath a broken porch light and vanished the next morning.
"Why'd you do it?" Dean froze, the question clearly wasn't the one he'd expected. "Back then."
His expression changed immediately, she saw recognition flash across his face, followed by guilt, a lot of guilt. The storm suddenly felt very far away as she spoke again. "You know which day I mean."
Dean looked down and for the first time all night, he didn't have a joke ready, didn't have a smart answer, didn't have anything. The silence stretched, but finally he exhaled slowly.
"You told me you loved me." Dean dragged a hand across the back of his neck as the words hung between them. Lightning flashed somewhere beyond the fields and Dean's voice was rough when he spoke again. "But I didn't leave because of that."
"Then why?" He looked at her, really looked at (y/n). And for a second she saw something vulnerable underneath all the armour.
"Because I wanted to stay. I was young, I had a dad who was always halfway out the door. A little brother who depended on me, no money, no future. I knew if I stayed, I'd never leave. But there was too much on the line, too much I couldn’t risk.” Something twisted painfully in her chest. The confession settled heavily between them, years of resentment suddenly colliding with years of understanding. Neither one made the hurt disappear, but they changed its shape somehow.
"I'm sorry." The words were barely above a whisper. Dean looked exhausted, like he'd been carrying that answer for a very long time. She kept staring at him, the boy she’d loved. The man standing in front of her now, still infuriating, still impossible, still her Dean.
“Follow me to the motel, and if you want to leave later, you’re free to go. Promise, I just want to spend some more time catching up with you.” With a heavy sigh leaving her, she nodded, turned away from him and started the car, set on following Dean to the motel.
***
The motel wasn't much to look at, flickering vacancy sign, peeling paint, questionable carpet. The kind of place Dean Winchester had spent half his life in. She stood just inside the door while he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the chair in the corner. Two beds, one small table, a television that looked older than both of them. Home sweet home.
Dean disappeared briefly into the tiny kitchenette area and came back carrying two beers. The bottle hissed softly when she twisted the cap off and let her eyes wander again. The room glowed gold beneath the old lamp beside Dean's bed. Comfortable silence lingered between them for now, while Dean sat on the edge of one mattress, (y/n) settling onto the other, facing him.
"What?" She only shook her head with a laugh and mumbled a soft “Nothing”.
"Bull." Another laugh and there it was. Dean Winchester, still incapable of letting anything go. So, she shifted on the bed, legs pulled to her chest while she had one arm wrapped around them.
"You look older." Dean groaned at her words, took a sip of the beer and threw his pillow at her, missing her only by a few inches.
"Fighting monsters isn't exactly a skincare routine, mind you." She only smiled at his words and the sight made something soften in his expression, followed by a smile tugging on his own lips. God, (y/n) had missed that smile and the way it reached his eyes, the way it made him look younger.
"So." Dean cleared his throat while leaning back against the pillows. "Tell me everything."
"Everything?" She snorted at that, wondering how she would be able to squeeze all what had happened into one evening. He only nodded and then the next hour slipped by easier than expected. They talked about hunts, near deaths, stupid mistakes, and people they both had lost. The years that had stretched between them began shrinking one story at a time.
Dean told her about Sam, about Bobby, about the bunker, about things he couldn't quite explain without sounding insane. While she told him about learning to hunt, about being alone, about figuring things out herself, and about the nights she had wished someone would show up and tell her what the hell she was doing.
Dean listened carefully, the way he always had, like every word mattered. At some point the beers became empty bottles on the table, and at some point midnight came and went while the conversation drifted back toward the thing neither of them had truly stopped thinking about. The night before he left.
"You know," Dean rolled his bottle slowly between his palms and (y/n) instantly knew where this was going. His eyes stayed fixed on the label. "I thought about that night a lot. You scared the hell out of me with your confession. Nobody had ever said something like that to me before." The vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard.
"I did mean it, if that still counts." (Y/n) whispered the words while looking away herself, unable to look at the man any longer.
"I know." The answer came immediately without any hesitation or doubt. "I always knew."
The room suddenly felt too small, too warm while uncomfortableness clung to her. The conversation had turned unexpectedly heavy, something neither of them enjoyed.
"You never answered, Dean, you do know that, right?" His jaw shifted as the old guilt returned. "You just left."
His eyes closed briefly, he took the last sip of his bottle and placed it down on the ground while he let go of a sigh. "You wanna know something pathetic? I had an answer. Actually, scratch that, I always have the same answer."
The world seemed to stop, outside, inside, everywhere. She stared at him while Dean stared right back. There were no jokes, no deflections, nothing to hide behind anymore.
"You felt the same?" His expression softened at her confused words, so much it almost hurt.
"Yeah, course I did.” The single word settled somewhere deep inside her. Years of wondering, years of hurt, years of imagining a hundred different possibilities. Gone, just like that. "I was in love with you, (y/n), ever since I met you"
The confession hung between them and her eyes burned unexpectedly. Dean noticed, of course he noticed, he always had. He rose to his feet, let a few seconds pass and then sat down next to her, shoulder to shoulder, both their eyes focused on the ground.
"I spent years convincing myself I imagined it." Dean's face tightened at her trembling voice, eyes finally flickering up to look at her side profile.
"You didn't." His gaze never left (y/n)’s. The room went silent again, filled with years finally catching up to both of them. She forced herself to look at him again, he sat close enough now that she could see every line in his face, every scar, every year, and somehow still see the boy underneath.
His eyes dropped briefly to her mouth and stayed there. The tension that had followed them all evening finally snapped like a wave reaching shore. Dean lifted a hand, slow enough for her to stop him, which she didn’t. His fingers brushed her cheek, a touch so gentle it almost broke her heart. Then he leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't rushed, wasn't desperate, perhaps it should have been. All those years of missed chances and unanswered questions should have made it desperate, instead it felt careful as if both of them were making sure the other was real.
Everything that had been left unsaid, everything that had survived was now finally answered. Dean rested his forehead against hers when he pulled away, breathing hard. But she didn’t let him pull away further, hands settling on his neck to kiss him again, deeper this time around.
Without breaking the kiss, Dean helped her into his lap, thighs pressed together, hearts racing in sync, lips unable to part. It was perfect, so perfect both couldn’t help but mourn the time they could have used for moments like these. She gave him a push back, letting him lay on the bed while her mouth kissed its way down his throat, fingers disappearing beneath his shirt.
Too much time had passed, too many lost moments, there was no time for anymore waiting. He helped her pull the shirt over his head before his hands took care of hers, bra following moments later. Dean sat back up to kiss at her chest, leaving marks on soft spots which made her skin tingle in excitement, letting heat pool between her thighs.
“I always wondered how it must feel to touch you, I hate myself for not letting us experience this earlier.” She shut him up with another kiss, body filled with too many emotions to speak. Her fingers explored his soft skin, she traced his tattoo, his rough muscles, before undoing the button of his jeans, feeling what her touch was doing to him.
She pulled him free from his boxers, letting her eyes flicker back to his for a second as if checking in to see if he was doing alright, but Dean could only moan at her touch, hips jerking to force her to move. She spat onto the tip, saliva lubing him up before (y/n) began pumping him, slow at first, exploring the soft skin with careful touches. His groans urged her on, begging her to move faster, to pump him with enough pressure to make him see stars.
“You’re too good at this.” He panted the words, which drew a proud chuckle from her. She was concentrated on the task, on the speed she used to move her hand, not daring to break the rhythm until Dean eventually pushed her away, needing to focus on her before he could cum.
“Lay down, show me what I’ve been missing out on.” (Y/n) gave in to the command, she placed herself down on the mattress, got rid of her clothes while Dean undressed himself before returning to her. He lingered between her thighs, keeping them open with his knees as his eyes took in her naked frame. Their lips met for another kiss while his fingers brushed through her wetness, spreading it on her skin and pulsing bundle before pushing a finger inside her.
Her moans filled the room, she clung to him with her fingernails leaving marks on his strong back, etching her touches into the body she had always wanted to feel pressed against her. Dean was careful with his touch, yet he used just enough pressure to make her tremble beneath him. He circled her clit, pushed her further and further into the waves of pleasure while brushing against that sweet spot inside of her.
It was a sight so beautiful, he wondered if he was dreaming it. It felt too good, too real to be something this perfect. But Dean didn’t dare break the moment, he didn’t care if it was just a dream, not as he finally got the chance to have her like this.
“Can I fuck you now? I need to be inside you, sweetheart.” She nodded at him with glassy eyes, teeth buried in her lower lip while she tried to calm herself down from the waves of pleasure threatening to drown her. He reached for a condom, ripped it open with his teeth, and rolled it down onto his cock.
Their fingers found together as he pushed into her, spreading her walls around him while both let go of a groan at the sensation. Dean allowed her to adjust, not set on hurrying her while she breathed heavily. But the second he felt her relax, he began to move, fucking her with a comfortable rythym both found enjoyment in. They clung to one another, foreheads pressed together, hearts racing.
“Dean,” she choked out his name as (y/n) threw her head back while feeling his fingers on her pulsing bundle. He kept circling the spot, kept fucking her deeper and deeper while groaning her name over and over again like a prayer spoken to set them both free.
She came first with a cry, fingernails leaving a few scratches on his back, proud memories he’d carry for a while. He kept fucking her, kept guiding her through her orgasm while chasing his own, eventually giving in with another deep, raspy sound which made her tremble once more.
For a while neither of them felt the need to fill the silence, bodies pressed together, hearts slowing down their racing beats. Dean lay beside her, one arm draped lazily across her waist, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns against her side.
“I won’t disappear this time, I promise. And if you’ll still have me after all those years, I’m yours.” She turned her head just enough to find him already looking at her. Her emotions overwhelmed her, they choked her, so she could only nod at him, jaw clenched, eyes teary.
For the first time in a long time, the future didn't feel like something waiting to take him from her. It felt like something the two of them might actually reach together.
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