Requests Are Open ❤️

You were sitting at the bar sipping a glass of wine. You’d had no idea what to order and told the bartender you were waiting for your date, that it was a first date, and you weren’t a big drinker. She’d been sweet and poured you some Rose. Every time the door opened your eyes would dart over. Dean would be there any minute. Finally, there he was. You watched as his eyes scanned the dining room before they reached the bar and he saw you. His face lit up as he licked his lips, looking you up and down. It felt like he was devouring you and you loved it. 

“You look…wow.” He breathed once he was in front of you. You were you, that was for sure. But your dress was a little more form fitting (without being skin tight), you were wearing chunky heels, your hair looked beyond soft and he wanted to just run his hands through it (he made a note that if the two of you worked out he’d get your hair done just so he could mess it up after in the best way), your makeup was done, and you’d gotten a manicure. 

A light pink tint settled over your cheeks. Of course you’d been attracted to men before, but you had never felt attractive to men. Feeling like you were the only woman in the world to him was hotter than you could have guessed it would be. 

Dean offered you his hand. “Let’s go get this started, sweetheart.” His words said ‘tonight’, his tone said ‘forever’. If he had his way that’s exactly how it would work out. 

Smiling, you put your hand in his and slid off the stool. “Let’s.” 

The smile never left Dean’s face on that date. By the time he was driving back to his parents, he knew he was completely head over heels for you. “So, I know we’ve technically only had one date, but can I ask you to be my girl?” He glanced at you for a moment as the car sat at a red light. 

“I’d really like that.” You agreed. Dean had more than shown you that you could trust him and that he cared a lot about you. “I guess our movie nights are now date nights.” 

“I still want to take you out sometimes, too.” He let you know. “I don’t want to just have our dates at your apartment.” He didn’t want you thinking otherwise. 

“Good thing we live so close we can plan things for whenever we want.” You chuckled. “And…I decided to use my phone for more than work and emergencies. Lisa was showing me pictures and videos of her son. So many memories. I’d like for us to have those, too. And I’ll still prefer calling, but this way if we’re both really busy we can send a text.” 

Dean smiled softly at that. “As long as you don’t feel pressured to.” That was the last thing he wanted. 

You shook your head. “I’m not. It’s not like I’m going from one extreme to the other. I’ll still limit its use, but I won’t be as against it as I was.” 

“Then I’m glad. How about when we get back to my parents we take our first selfie together on your phone? And you can send it to me. Our first text will be us. And then I can make it my lockscreen.” 

It was like Disney wrote him or as if he had walked right off the pages of one of the fics you wrote. “I’d really like that.” Part of you wanted to ask if he wanted to sleep in the bed with you that night, but you were way too shy. Cuddling up with him all night sounded like the perfect way to finish the date. Was it too soon, though? Chewing on your lip, your eyes unfocused as your mind went a million miles an hour. 

“I can hear you thinking, sweetheart. Everything okay?” 

You’d already done so many things that scared you, so you decided to be brave again. “I was wondering if you’d like to sleep in the bed with me tonight instead of that cot thing.” Your cheeks were on fire. “I thought cuddling up together would be nice.” 

“Shit, sweetheart.” He beamed. “How’d you know I’m a cuddler?” Pulling into the driveway, he turned to look at you. “I am a very handsy boyfriend.” He winked. “But I will always ask permission first. You are the hottest woman in the world and I look forward to showing you that.” 

Your insecurities bubbled up a bit. “Even if I’m fat?” 

His eyes darkened at that. “You are a fucking babe.” His voice was low. “I have been imagining what’s under your cardigans for ages. And I know when I’m blessed enough to see that I will go nuts.” He watched as you shifted slightly in your seat, but not in an ‘I’m uncomfortable’ way. More like your imagination was going wild. “One day I’ll show you what I picture in the shower.” 

“Jesus.” You breathed, watching him slip out of the car and jog around to open your car door for you. 

“Hey, kids.” John glanced over at the two of you walked in. “How was your date? I can tell shopping went well.” He chuckled, noting the bags Dean was holding. 

You smiled. “Really well.” Which was putting it mildly. “How’s the game?” You motioned to the tv where he was watching some football. John and Mary were really easy to get comfortable around.

Dean leaned against the wall as you and John chatted. He could picture you there twenty years from now, his parents old and grey, kids running around, and he knew his dad was right. When you knew, you knew.

You were sitting at the bar sipping a glass of wine. You’d had no idea what to order and told the bartender you were waiting for your date, that it was a first date, and you weren’t a big drinker. She’d been sweet and poured you some Rose. Every time the door opened your eyes would dart over. Dean would be there any minute. Finally, there he was. You watched as his eyes scanned the dining room before they reached the bar and he saw you. His face lit up as he licked his lips, looking you up and down. It felt like he was devouring you and you loved it. 

“You look…wow.” He breathed once he was in front of you. You were you, that was for sure. But your dress was a little more form fitting (without being skin tight), you were wearing chunky heels, your hair looked beyond soft and he wanted to just run his hands through it (he made a note that if the two of you worked out he’d get your hair done just so he could mess it up after in the best way), your makeup was done, and you’d gotten a manicure. 

A light pink tint settled over your cheeks. Of course you’d been attracted to men before, but you had never felt attractive to men. Feeling like you were the only woman in the world to him was hotter than you could have guessed it would be. 

Dean offered you his hand. “Let’s go get this started, sweetheart.” His words said ‘tonight’, his tone said ‘forever’. If he had his way that’s exactly how it would work out. 

Smiling, you put your hand in his and slid off the stool. “Let’s.” 

The smile never left Dean’s face on that date. By the time he was driving back to his parents, he knew he was completely head over heels for you. “So, I know we’ve technically only had one date, but can I ask you to be my girl?” He glanced at you for a moment as the car sat at a red light. 

“I’d really like that.” You agreed. Dean had more than shown you that you could trust him and that he cared a lot about you. “I guess our movie nights are now date nights.” 

“I still want to take you out sometimes, too.” He let you know. “I don’t want to just have our dates at your apartment.” He didn’t want you thinking otherwise. 

“Good thing we live so close we can plan things for whenever we want.” You chuckled. “And…I decided to use my phone for more than work and emergencies. Lisa was showing me pictures and videos of her son. So many memories. I’d like for us to have those, too. And I’ll still prefer calling, but this way if we’re both really busy we can send a text.” 

Dean smiled softly at that. “As long as you don’t feel pressured to.” That was the last thing he wanted. 

You shook your head. “I’m not. It’s not like I’m going from one extreme to the other. I’ll still limit its use, but I won’t be as against it as I was.” 

“Then I’m glad. How about when we get back to my parents we take our first selfie together on your phone? And you can send it to me. Our first text will be us. And then I can make it my lockscreen.” 

It was like Disney wrote him or as if he had walked right off the pages of one of the fics you wrote. “I’d really like that.” Part of you wanted to ask if he wanted to sleep in the bed with you that night, but you were way too shy. Cuddling up with him all night sounded like the perfect way to finish the date. Was it too soon, though? Chewing on your lip, your eyes unfocused as your mind went a million miles an hour. 

“I can hear you thinking, sweetheart. Everything okay?” 

You’d already done so many things that scared you, so you decided to be brave again. “I was wondering if you’d like to sleep in the bed with me tonight instead of that cot thing.” Your cheeks were on fire. “I thought cuddling up together would be nice.” 

“Shit, sweetheart.” He beamed. “How’d you know I’m a cuddler?” Pulling into the driveway, he turned to look at you. “I am a very handsy boyfriend.” He winked. “But I will always ask permission first. You are the hottest woman in the world and I look forward to showing you that.” 

Your insecurities bubbled up a bit. “Even if I’m fat?” 

His eyes darkened at that. “You are a fucking babe.” His voice was low. “I have been imagining what’s under your cardigans for ages. And I know when I’m blessed enough to see that I will go nuts.” He watched as you shifted slightly in your seat, but not in an ‘I’m uncomfortable’ way. More like your imagination was going wild. “One day I’ll show you what I picture in the shower.” 

“Jesus.” You breathed, watching him slip out of the car and jog around to open your car door for you. 

“Hey, kids.” John glanced over at the two of you walked in. “How was your date? I can tell shopping went well.” He chuckled, noting the bags Dean was holding. 

You smiled. “Really well.” Which was putting it mildly. “How’s the game?” You motioned to the tv where he was watching some football. John and Mary were really easy to get comfortable around.

Dean leaned against the wall as you and John chatted. He could picture you there twenty years from now, his parents old and grey, kids running around, and he knew his dad was right. When you knew, you knew.

“Have sex with me-“

“Yeah, I- I heard you the first time, that’s not-“ Dean shakes his head, running a hand over his face. “It’s eight in the fuckin’ morning-“

“It’s eight fifteen.”

That earns you a flat look, and you smile innocently.

“That’s fifteen extra minutes, it matters-“

“Not for this. And- I ain’t even showered yet-“

Your nose wrinkles. “Why haven’t you showered?”

“I shower after coffee,” Dean mutters, turning his mug in his hands. “If I don’t, Sammy’s stinkin’ up the kitchen from his run.”

“Oh- Okay.” You clasp your hands behind your back, peering at his tight jaw, his mussed, soft-looking hair. “Is that… A yes?”

Dean’s eyes widen on yours. You’re worried he’s going to choke on the air this time. “Yes?”

“Are you going to have sex with me,” you clarify, and his mouth falls open.

“I- I’m- You’re-“ His throat bobs, and he starts to look around the room with a worried squint. “Are you fuckin’ with me?”

You frown. “Why would I be fucking with you?”

“’Cause, sweetheart, you can’t just-“ He lets out a sharp breath. “Is it Sam? Did he put you up to this? ‘Cause I told him- That kinda prank, it’s off the table-“

“What kind of prank?” You’re a little lost, and there’s shame starting to burn up your neck.

A prank. He thinks it’s a prank.

It’s not. You’re so serious it’s almost embarrassing. You wouldn’t have asked him if you weren’t. You’d almost talked yourself out of it, after spending too much time convincing yourself into it. Nights of tossing and turning in bed, an insatiable and aching heat between your legs and the sheets bunched around you in a mockery of a body. Weeks of watching the boys slip out of bars with women that seemed to fall into them like magnets while you spun around, alone on a barstool without any prospects.

Months, of watching Dean with a flush he never saw. An adoration written all over your face he didn’t seem capable of noticing. You’d tried to stomp it out. Your stupid, useless little crush. Dean was older. Seasoned and desirable in the way that made you wonder if he was even real sometimes. Out of your reach, tantalizing, and impossible to just forget about. 

You’d neglect your feelings in the hope they’d die, but he’d water them until they were in full bloom and overtaking your heart and mouth and head. He’d buy the snacks you like and let you chose the movie. He’d open doors and let his hand linger on your lower back, he’d smile at you in the dim light of the Impala and make you feel like the only person in the world, he’d call you when he was away on a separate hunt every single night, just to update you. He’d play wrestle you for the remote, and somehow never manage to wonder why he always won when he’d see you take down men closer to Sam’s size with barely a grunt of effort.

“Nice try, sweetheart,” he’d whisper in your ear, when he had you pinned on the floor beneath him, and you’d have to swallow down your moan.

He’d get up, turn on the TV, and leave you on the couch while he went to the bathroom. You’d sit with your knees to your chest and your breathing uneven, unable to focus on anything but the ghost of his body over yours. The heat of him, the way his arms had caged you in, his knee pressed far too close to your neglected core.

If Dean knew how you dreamed about him—how those moments followed you into bed, every single night—you’re so sure he’d never look at you again. He doesn’t see you like that, you’re sure. You’re the kid they took in, the annoying girl who’s got too much mouth on her and not enough experience, in every possible way.

You’ve never done sex. You sort of just missed the window, where it’s supposed to happen, and then it became too big a deal, then you met Dean and you were lost. What was the point of being with anyone else, when you had his shoulder bumping yours in the hallway. When you were so hopelessly in love with him, you think your heart might beat out of your chest like a cartoon every time you see him.

So you made a choice, a few weeks ago. A choice it took a lot of courage to work yourself up to following through on

You just need to have sex. With someone. Anyone. Preferably Dean. It just needs to be done and over with—one time, where he doesn’t know he’s taking your virginity, where he’s peacefully oblivious of your worship of his very existence—and then you can try to move on. Once you’ve had sex, it won’t be this big monster you shy away from anymore. It’ll just be another thing.

So you’re asking Dean. Outside of your alternate motivations, it’s a sound strategic call. You know about his prowess. He’s bragged to you about all his five-star reviews. And maybe that always made you gag over a toilet bowl after, but if it did, that’s none of his fucking business.

Maybe you’re not up to par with his usual partners, but you can do your makeup, or he can turn off the lights, or whatever else makes it easier for him. Anything that makes him touch you. You won’t even cry about it in front of him.

But he thinks it’s a prank. Why would he think it’s a prank.

“You know,” he says, watching you wearily. “Sammy gives you a tenner, you come and ask me for sex, everyone gets a good laugh at Dean. Good joke. Classy.”

You wrap your arms around your stomach, shrinking slightly into yourself. “It’s not a joke,” you mumble. “I- I was serious.”

“You were serious?”

He says it like it’s insane. You shrug, fixing your gaze on the floor. A joke. He thinks fucking you would be a joke.

“Sweetheart-“

“You don’t have to,” you take a step back, trying to sound casual. Like your heart isn’t being torn to ribbons.

You really hadn’t expected him to leap at the opportunity, but this is so close to cruel it hurts. Tears are threatening your eyes, and a lump is forming in your throat. Pathetic, a voice spits in your head. Why the fuck would he ever want to fuck you.

“Wait, just- Hold on-“

You look up, faster than you want to admit. Dean staring at you with pale face and slack jaw, throat working like he’s swallowing his own words every second. You wait, because you’re a fucking useless idiot. Bouncing nervously on your feet—they’re smarter than the rest of you, they want to run—and trying not to melt under his gaze.

“You’re actually askin’ me to fuck you?” He rasps, and you nod.

It’s the tiniest motion of your head. Dean shifts in his seat, staring at you with wide, dark eyes.

“Why?”

“Why?” You frown, saying the first, easiest, least embarrassing reason that pops into your head. “Because- You- You’re good at it?”

“I’m good at it,” Dean repeats. “You wanna fuck me ‘cause you think I’d be good at it?”

You wish he’d stop saying fuck like that. With a harsh ending and low drawl. “I don’t think,” you offer. “You’re the one who said you would be.”

Dean’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t look amused. “I could be lying, sweetheart.”

“I don’t think you are.”

He stares at you. His eyes flick up to the ceiling—maybe he still thinks he’s on a prank show—and he lets out a sharp, slow breath from his nose.

Then he shakes his head, and you feel the echo of your heart as it howls in pain.

“No,” he mutters. “I ain’t- Doin’ that. Not just ‘cause you- No.”

You blink at him, the world blurring a little. You stumble back, and Dean says your name, moving to his feet. You shake your head, moving back another step. Your eyes are stinging with tears, but that’s not his problem. He’s allowed to reject you. You’re also allowed to cry about it.

“Sweetheart-“

“It’s fine.” Your voice is too high. Too wobbly. “It’s- That’s okay.”

“No, just- Fuck-“ He rubs his jaw. “Listen to me, alright-“

“You don’t have to explain,” you shrug weakly. “It’s okay.”

Dean gives you a disbelieving look, but you move further back before he can try to make you feel better about the rejection. It’s not going to help.

“I’ll just-“ You look over your shoulder. To the door, just one more step back.

Dean says your name again. When you look back, he’s reaching to you, trying to beckon you back into the kitchen. You smile, tight and watery.

“Thank you for your consideration.” You say, because you’re a fucking idiot. Dean certainly looks at you like you’re one.

You flee the kitchen. He calls your name again, but this time you don’t look back.

Rejection is fine. You’re fine. You’re so fine, you lock yourself in your room for the rest of the day and eat so much ice cream your stomach hurts. Because it’s fun. It’s fun to cry over something you never even had.

At least you anticipated this. You have a very solid plan B.

If Dean won’t sleep with you, you’re going to find someone who will. You’re going to get it over with. This week.

You’re learning something about yourself.

You are not good at flirting.

The first thing you try is the bars. Sam and Dean slide into a booth, and you go to get the drinks. A guy makes eyes at you, and you smile sweetly in return. When you bring the drinks back, you set the beers down in front of the boys and turn back on your heels to give the bar-guy a shot.

Dean says your name, and you freeze. You always do that for him. It’s a habit you don’t think you’re able to break.

“Where’re you going?” He frowns at you, one arm slung around the back of the seat. Around where you’d usually sit.

“Bar,” you say lamely, and the lines on his face deepen.

“Why, you forget something?”

“No.”

“Then what-“

Dean cuts himself off, his gaze flicking over your shoulder. To the bar. To the man, waiting for you with a smirk, because you promised you’d be back.

Dean grunts your name, low and rough, and if he asked you to stay, you don’t think you’d be able to tell him no.

Things have been strange, since the kitchen. Neither of you have brought it up, and Dean hasn’t stopped treating you the way he always has, but there’s something charged beneath it. A live wire that frays and crackles, every time your fingers brush or your eyes meet. You’ve caught him staring at you with an open mouth a few times. Last week he tried to talk to you, alone in the Impala while Sam got snacks from a gas station. You announced that you had to shit, and scrambled out of the car.

You don’t want to talk about it, and Dean has no right to make you. He’s not the one who got his heart broken. He’s not the one who sort of wants to cry, whenever your eyes meet.

He certainly has no right to glare at you, when he puts together what you’re doing. He said he wasn’t going to sleep with you, and you’re a grown woman. You can, if you so please, have casual sex with a stranger. It is your right.

“You can’t be for real, sweetheart-“

“Dean.” Sam stares at his own beer, looking like he wants to vanish into the floor, and Dean scowls.

“C’mon, Sammy- Tell her she’s being crazy-“

“Crazy?” You snap, and Dean leans back in surprise. “You fuck around all the time, how is it crazy that I’d do the same thing?”

“It’s not- You just- You don’t-“ He swallows. “You don’t do this-“

“I do now.”

“Sweetheart, just- Sit down-“

You flip him off, and march back to the bar before he can ask with a little more conviction. You just need to break out of his orbit. To force yourself to realize that there are plenty of other men, and not having Dean isn’t the end of the universe.

Unfortunately, you sort of just keep proving the opposite.

“What’s a pretty little thing doin’ in a place like this?” The first guy at the bar asks, and you fumble.

You have no idea. You giggle nervously and spin in your chair, speaking words you can’t really hear. He seems into it—no matter how pathetic you must be coming off—until his fingers brush your arm, and you flinch back because his skin is cold. It sends a shiver up your spine that’s not the hot rush of Dean’s touch, but the sliver of a snake.

You go home alone that night, and you don’t look Dean in the eyes. He tries to talk to you, before you retreat to your room. You ignore him, because that’s the only way this is going to work. 

But you try again and again and again, and you never get anywhere. They always touch you, and it all falls apart. You look at them too long, and you can’t manage to squeeze them into a Dean shaped hole in your heart, and there’s no way forward. You try dating apps. That goes worse. Every dick pic you get sent just makes you wonder if sex is even something you want. They’re all worm-shaped and ugly. At least dildos come in nice colors. Maybe you should just buy a dildo.

No. You’ll just pretend it’s Dean all the time, and that’s the opposite of what you’re supposed to be doing here.

So you keep trying. And you keep failing. And Dean’s been looking at you weird—brow pinched and jaw set, every single night—and you’re getting desperate and fuck it.

“Sam.”

Sam hums, not looking up from his book. You clear your throat, leaning further over the table.

“Sam.”

“I’m listening, what’s-“

“Have sex with me.”

Sam, to his credit, doesn’t choke. He just goes very, very still, and looks up at you with an expression close to horror. He says your name slowly, and you shake your head, holding up a single hand.

“Just- Listen-“

“No?” Sam gapes at you. “I’m not- I’m not going to listen to that- Jesus Christ-“

“Come on, we could turn off the lights, and- I wouldn’t make it weird-“

“It’s already weird-“

“You’d be doing me a favor-“

“I’d be making a death wish!” Sam’s voice drops to a hiss. “Dean would fucking kill me.”

 You roll your eyes. “Then don’t tell him, dumbass.”

“No, I- I’m not doing that.” Sam shakes his head, like he’s trying to jolt the image free. “To you. Or him.”

“To him?” You narrow your eyes. “I- What the fuck would this do to Dean?”

Sam gives you a puppy-eyed, hopeless look. “I… Can’t say.”

“Sam Winchester-“

“Why are you asking me?” Sam whines. “I’m not- You’re not even into me-“

“Exactly, there would be no strings attached-“

“That’s not healthy-“

“Fuck off, like you don’t have casual sex-“

“I mean, I do, but I’m not-“ Sam cuts himself off, sighing dramatically. “Just- Why would you even want to have sex with me?”

You flush, but shrug. It’s just Sam. It’s easier to tell him than Dean. “I want to get it over with.”

“Get it over with?” Sam echoes. “It- You mean sex?”

You nod, and Sam blinks.

“Are you a virgin?”

“Maybe.”

“You- You’re-“

“Don’t be an asshole-“

“No, I’m not- I mean- It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. It actually-“ Sam frowns at the air. “It makes sense, I guess.”

That makes you scowl. “It makes sense?”

Sam shrugs, giving you an apologetic smile, and you can’t even think of an argument. You sigh, your shoulders slumping, and Sam clears his throat.

“You know I’m not going to sleep with you, right?”

“Yeah.” You sigh, and he nods slowly.

“Does Dean-“

“No.” You point a stern finger at him, and Sam raises his hands in surrender.

“I think you should-“

“Sam. I’ll cut your balls off.”

“I- Okay.”

You give him one last glare, and go to leave. But before you can go, the question scratches up your throat. You turn around, hands tucked behind your back, and speak softly. “Would you?”

Sam blinks. “What?”

“If you didn’t- Know me,” you mumble. “If we weren’t like- Friends. And you just met me, and I asked you- Would you?”

Sam snorts, and you scowl.

“I’m serious-“

“Yeah, I know you are.” Sam’s lips twitch. “It’s just- Yeah. I would. Of course I would.”

You stand a little taller. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean- You know you’re attractive, right? If you just didn’t, like, annoy me. I’d be in.”

“I do not annoy you-“

“You’re annoying me right now.”

You laugh despite yourself. Sam smiles, his voice dropping to something gentler.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you,” he says your name slowly. “I just- Don’t want to be lucky.”

You huff in amusement—if Sam isn’t lying, aversion to luck is a family trait—but dip your head. “Thanks. I think.”

“You’re welcome. And-“ Sam pauses, looking you up and down with a strange expression. “I’m sure the whole- Thing will work out for you. There are… People. I think you’re going to figure it out.”

“You need to sleep with her.”

Dean needed to stop drinking coffee when people walked into the kitchen. This was the second shirt he’d ruined in as many months, and it was because everyone kept saying crazy fucking shit.

“Sammy, what the fuck-“

Sam said your name, and Dean’s hands fisted on the table.

Again. Son of a bitch, he was about to go through this again. The first time had been bad enough. You’d looked at him with glossy, hopeful eyes, practically begged for him to fuck you, and Dean had wondered if he’d died in his sleep last night and been dragged back to hell. Forced to experience some new kind of torture Crowley was developing, where everything he’d ever wanted was just a stretch away from his fingertips, and he wasn’t allowed to take it.

He had to be the noble one here. The wise, old asshole who didn’t take advantage of you. Taking you up on that offer would be one of the worst things he’d ever done. It would be selfish, and cruel, and a worse fate than anything else. To get what he wanted, for one night, then never fucking have it again. To get hooked—because he would, he fucking knew he’d never be able to kiss and touch you once then go back to just living—and turn into an addict willing to do anything to get another hit.

Dean would’ve turned into a bigger creep than he already was. Instead of stares and long, shameful showers with his cock in his hand and your name on his lips, he’d stuff your panties in his pocket and press them to his nose while he fucked himself raw. He’d get possessive, he’d snarl at anyone else who got to close, he’d fall to his knees and beg you to stay if you ever decided you had enough of him.

And he knew that last thing was going to happen eventually. You had a whole life ahead of you, and he was stuck here. In this dim bunker with blood on his hands and under his feet and staining his past and future all at once. He swam in a river of it. In front of him, behind him, washing over him all the time, there was just fucking blood. You deserved better than that. Better than Dean. You deserved the fucking world.

So he’d told you no, and you’d looked at him like a wet fucking kitten he’d kicked into the rain, but it had been for your own good. You’d get over it. Dean was the one who had to watch you flirt with douchebags at the bar. Who couldn’t get in another bed anymore, because he kept getting kicked out for moaning your name.

He was the one who was rooted here forever. You’d find something softer. Something good.  He’d accepted that, with a lot of beer pushing it down. You’d find something better, and that was what he wanted.

Sammy knew all that. Dean had gotten drunk once and confessed his stupid, undying feelings, then sworn Sam to secrecy in the morning. He’d kept his word, only shooting Dean sad looks whenever you went off to flirt and smirking whenever Dean called you on a hunt.

But now he was asking Dean to sleep with you. Like he’d lost his damn mind.

“No,” he grunted, and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Look, Dean, I get that you’re being cool and righteous and whatever-“

“I’m not fuckin’ her, Sammy- I shouldn’t.” He shot Sam a glare. “You know why I shouldn’t.“

“Yeah, well, I think your why is pretty stupid.” Sam said flatly. “You’ve never even asked her if she’d be- You know. Open to it-“

“I know she’d be open to it,” Dean scowled at his coffee. “But that’s- I ain’t doing it, Sammy. Never.” Not like that.

Sam was silent for a moment. When Dean looked up, he was staring at him with wide eyes. “She asked you first, didn’t she.”

Dean frowned. “What’d you mean, asked me first-“

“To take her virginity.”

He hadn’t taken a sip of coffee again. This time, he managed to choke on nothing at all. “To- What?”

Sam leaned back slightly. “Did she not ask you to sleep with her?”

“No, she did, I just didn’t fuckin’- She’s a virgin?”

“I guess,” Sam shrugged. “You know that’s not a big deal, right?”

Dean grunted. His head was spinning. Of course it wasn’t a big deal, he didn’t care. He’d wanted you before, he wanted you now, that wasn’t the fucking issue.

But you’d asked him.

You’d asked him to fuck you. You’d wanted him to- Do it. Take it. Pop it, whatever. You’d chosen Dean, to be the guy, and he’d told you no, and then you’d started flirting around with other people, and you could’ve ended up with someone dangerous, someone who took advantage of you, who thought your inexperience was hot for all the wrong reasons and hurt you and-

Dean paused. He looked at Sam. Sam blinked, and Dean’s eyes narrowed.

“How the fuck do you know that.”

Sam swallowed, taking a small step back. “Uh…”

“Sam-“

“She might’ve… Asked me.”

“She what-“

“I said no!” Sam said quickly. “I told her I wouldn’t. But- You know.” Sam cleared his throat. “If you’d said yes to her the first time…”

Sam gave him a pointed look. He was asking to get punched in the fucking face.

“No.”

“Dean, just-“

“No. I’m not takin’ advantage of her, Sammy, I’m not-“

 “It’s not taking advantage of her if she wants it!”

“She doesn’t want it-“

Sam snorted. “Oh, fuck off.”

Dean blinked, leaning back in his chair. Sam turned a little red, wincing at himself, but didn’t back down.

“Wow, Sammy. Big claws, huh.”

Sam sighed, running a hand over his face. “Dean… Just- Think about her, okay?”

Dean almost laughed. “All I fuckin’ do is think about her-“

“Then think a little harder.” Sam said flatly. “Before both of you get actually hurt.”

Dean didn’t have an answer to that. Sam didn’t seem to be asking for one. He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Dean alone. With only his coffee mug and thoughts for company. A dangerous thing to do. Dean could talk himself into and out of almost anything, if the logic police weren’t there to stop him.

He was going to do something really fucking stupid and selfish, and it was all Sam’s fault.

“Come in!” You call to the knock on your door, glancing up from your laptop as the door creaks open.

Dean shuffles into your room with his head bowed. Your face heats, and you slam the laptop closed. He doesn’t need to see you scrolling through hookup websites and think any lower of you. You’re already losing sleep over the worry you’ve fractured something between you beyond repair.

“Hi,” you whisper, and he swallows.

“Uh- Hey.”

“Hi.” What the fuck is wrong with you.

Dean’s lips twitch. “Hey.”

You start to pull the sheets between your fingers, trying not to ogle him too obviously. He’s wearing sweats and a t-shirt, and it’s sexier than all the profile pics you’ve spent hours staring at. His hair is a mess, and there are bags under his eyes, and you don’t think you’ve ever wanted to climb over him more.

“You, uh-“ He glances at your computer. “You busy?”

“No- No.” Never for him. You shove your computer onto your bedstand, moving to sit on your knees. “What’s up?”

Dean’s throat bobs. He runs a hand through his hair, huffing something close to a laugh, and shakes his head. “Jesus.”

“What-“

“Nothin’.” He clears his throat, giving you a strange look. “Did you ask Sam to sleep with you?”

Your mouth falls open. You almost trip sitting down. “I- I didn’t-“

“You didn’t?”

“No, I mean- I- He wasn’t supposed to tell you,” you whine, avoiding Dean’s stare. “I didn’t- Fuck-“

“Hey- It’s- Woah-“

Dean crosses the room in a few strides, grabbing your wrists with firm, warm hands. You’d started to pick at your nails with the anxiety. You hadn’t even realized it.

“Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart,” he mutters, his thumb dragging a circle on your wrist.

You nod, your voice only a breath. “Okay.”

He’s so close. You can count all his crow’s feet, map his stubble, trace his lips with just your eyes. He’s still frowning at your wrist, so you allow yourself to stare.

Then he looks up. And you freeze in panic, but don’t manage to look away.

Dean’s tongue flicks over his lips. Your breath catches. Neither of you move, and you let yourself have it. For a single second, you imagine that Dean is here, in your room, on your bed, and that means something. You get lost in the warmth of his proximity, the calloused but soft feeling of his touch.

“Sammy told me something else,” Dean mutters, scanning over your slack, flushed features.

“Yeah?” You whisper, and he nods tightly.

“Yeah. Said you’re, uh-“ He clears his throat. “Said you’ve never- You know.” He cringes. “Been fucked.”

Your mouth falls open. You think you’d like to die now. “Dean-“

“Is that why you asked me?” His grip tightens on your wrist. Not allowing you to pull away. “’Cause you just wanted someone to take it?”

You drop your gaze to his crotch. There’s a soft bulge there. You’d drool over it, if you didn’t think you were going to explode any second now. 

Dean says your name, and you shake your head.

“Don’t,” you mumble. “Don’t just- Feel bad for me- You said no, that’s- It’s fine-“

“What if it’s not.”

Your eyes shoot up. You’d think he was joking, if he didn’t look so fucking serious. His jaw is set. His eyes are blown out and fixed on yours. Your mouth hangs stupidly open, and Dean smiles softly.

“Huh?” You manage to choke out, and he almost chuckles.

“What if I wanted to. Help you.”

“But-“ You blink. “You don’t.”

Dean shakes his head. “Wrong, sweetheart. I do-“

“You said you didn’t-“

“I lied.”

You stare at him. He doesn’t back down.

“Would it mean something?” He muttered, reaching up to trace the curve of your cheek. “If I did it?”

You nod weakly, leaning into his touch. It sends violent, hot shivers through your whole body. Almost like a fever. You don’t want the cure. “Would it matter to you?” You ask, and Dean’s eyes flash. His fingers curl on your cheek. He leans an inch forward, then another inch. Your lips brush, the lightest possible touch, and you let out a soft, uncertain whine.

Dean pushes forward, his lips fully crashing into yours, his kiss demanding but certain. He presses over you, pulling you a little further up on your knees. You grab the collar of his shirt for balance, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to kiss him back with as much fervor as he’s offering you.

“De- Dean-“ You gasp against his lips. “Dean-“

He groans, his arm sliding around your back so he can pull you tight to his chest. You melt into his arms, and his kisses turn messy. Open mouthed and rough, his tongue dragging over your teeth as his fingers dig into your hips. You run out of air fast, but don’t try and pull away. You don’t want this to ever end, and you’re afraid that if you dare to break the moment, it will never be repaired.

High gasps start to escape your throat, though, and Dean pulls away. He cups your face between his hands, frowning slightly, and presses his brow against yours. You struggle for air, almost pressing forward to try and kiss him again, but he holds you in place.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he mutters, rough and thick. It’s the same voice he uses on you during hunts. When he’s giving an order you didn’t ask for.

Usually, you protest or ignore him. Right now you’re putty in his hands. He could tell you to follow him to hell, and you would. You’d do anything, just for him to never let go.

You inhale unevenly, and Dean rubs your upper back. His hand slipped under your shirt, and his palm is broad and warm. It—annoyingly—helps a lot.

“There you go,” he murmurs, watching you under hooded eyes. “That’s a good girl.”

You whine again. “Dean-“

“Sorry. Couldn’t help it.”

He doesn’t fucking look sorry. His lips are twitching, and there’s a smug glint in his eyes that’s almost dangerously intoxicating.

“Better?” He asks, and you nod, slumping closer to his chest. He doesn’t push you away.

This might be real.

“Are you sure, ‘bout this?” Dean rasps, and you almost giggle.

“Yes.”

“I’m old, sweetheart-“

“I like it.”

Dean blinks, and you stutter, so sure you should shut up but not really sure how.

“I- I mean- I like you, so- I don’t care if you’re old- I like you old- I like you-“

Dean smirks, holding your face so firmly against his  you can’t shy away.

“You- Can you- I mean- If it’s just- Just sex- You can forget I said- I think you being old is hot-“

He finally takes mercy, and shuts you up with a long, rough kiss. You hum, pushing further up on your knees, and climb slowly into Dean’s lap. He sucks on your lower lip, angling your head back as your core settles against his bulge, then pulls back with a low sigh.

“Not just sex,” he mutters, dragging his thumb over your swollen lower lip. “Not with you, baby.”

You nod, smiling wider than you probably should. “Cool.”

Dean grins back. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool ‘cause you like me,” he teases, shoving your hips down, right over his crotch. “Of ‘cause I’m old.”

You face burns. All you can do is stare and him and whimper, “You’re spritely.”

Dean huffs, in disbelieving amusement. “Spritely? You think I’m-“

“Youthful,” you babble quickly. “You’ve got a lot of…” You flush as he stares at you, sort of wishing he’d just kiss you and shut you up. “Youth.”

Dean’s mouth curves up. “Youth, huh.”

You nod, and he chuckles, pressing the lightest kiss over your lips.

“Hurts when I bend over now, honey, don’t think that’s very youthful of me.”

“So don’t bend over,” you mumble, and Dean snorts.

“Demanding, aren’t we?”

You shrug, trying not to turn into a puddle and miserably failing. Dean kisses your cheek, then under your eye, tracing his mouth down so he breath tickles your ear.

“Mouthy and demanding,” he rubs your hips, dragging your hips back and forth across his crotch. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna fix that.”

You whimper, and Dean’s grin grows.

“You like that, huh.”

“Dean-“

“Ah,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, moving away before you can chase his lips. “You wanted my help. This is how I’m gonna help, baby. Takin’ real good care of you,” he thrusts his hips up, and you whine as the hard outline of his cock hits your clothed pussy. “Just like this.”

 You nod, pressing your face into the crook of Dean’s neck. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on. It’s different, with Dean’s hands wandering your sides and his voice right in your ear. Your heart pounds and everywhere gets slick with sweat and arousal, just his dirty talk reducing you to a heap of confused nerves. Dean’s lips drag over your jaw, and you curl further around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he nips at your throat.

“Just gotta do what I tell you, alright?” He mutters, squeezing a handful of your ass. “Can you do that, baby? Do it for me?"

You nod quickly, and Dean chuckles against your skin.

“Eager,” he drawls, pushing his fingers slowly under the hem of your shorts. “Eager and soft.”

He squeezes your ass again, his fingers brushing against the edge of your pussy. You grind backwards, trying to push him to where you need him so very desperately. He lets you, teasing his fingers over the lips of your pussy, and you whine in his ear.

“Sit still,” he grunts, and you have to bite your lower lip, but you force your hips to come to a stop.

It earns you a sharp slap of your ass, and a kiss on the side of your head. Worth it.

“That’s right,” he mutters, letting those thick fingers dance back over your cunt.  “Good work, baby girl. You fuckin’ love the attention, don’t you. Eager to please me, eager to make me proud.”

You swallow, hugging him so tight you’re a little worried you’ll choke him. Dean doesn’t even flinch. He dips two fingers into the wetness of your heat and groans right in your ear, spreading the arousal everywhere between your thighs.

“If you’re gonna hide that pretty face,” he grunts in your ear. “At least fuckin’ kiss me.”

Nervously, you wander your lips over the strong curve of his shoulders, the arch of his neck. Dean moans in your ear, his cock jumping in his jeans. His fingers keep wandering near and around your pussy, and you get a little bolder. Kissing up his jaw, over his cheek, the top of his lip. You’re panting, trying to focus on your job as Dean keeps pulling and teasing you with his touch.

“Shit,” he moans your name, tracing around your flutter entrance. “That’s it, baby, just like that-“

 Dean grabs your jaw with his free hand, like he can’t fucking help himself, and slams his lips against yours. You squeak in surprise, but kiss him back, grinding down onto his hand. His fingers dip inside of you for a moment, and you moan. Dean grunts and shoves those fingers inside of you.

Your mouth falls open, your eyes widening at the thick, pleasurable stretch. He feels so good, so fucking right, you’re worried his cock might kill you.

“Look at you,” Dean coos, smirking at your slack face. “Just my fuckin’ fingers, baby. Keep breathin’, or this is all we’re doing tonight.”

You take a deep breath, sharp and sudden, and Dean smirks in approval.

“Good girl,” he pushes his fingers a little deeper, scissoring them and bumping against a spot that makes your whole body jerk.

“Dean-“

“Shh,” he kisses you, crooking his fingers to rub against that hidden button, and you mewl against his lips. “You feel that, baby?”

“Mmm- Mhm.” You press your cheek against his, eyes fluttering as Dean keeps pushing and tickling deep inside you. “Feels good.”

“I know it does, sweet girl,” he wraps his hand back around your neck, guiding your brow to press back against his. “It’s that special little spot, gonna make everything feel good.”

His words are sweet and mocking all at once, and it sends a new gush of arousal between your legs. You watch him with wide, clouded eyes, and Dean’s smile softens for a single second. He kisses you, more gentle than before, and pulls his fingers slowly out of your cunt.

“Lie down,” he whispers before you can protest, and you swallow, but obey.

Dean hums in approval, rubbing a massive hand on your thigh.

“Everything off,” he says, and you go still.

“Everything?”

“Mhm,” he raises his brows at your flushed expression. “That gonna be a problem?”

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around your stomach. You don’t want to disappoint him, but he’s going to see you. Really, fully see you. God, you really don’t want him to see you and change his mind, and-

“Hey,”  Dean takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “You want my help?”

“Yes, please,” you breathe, and that’s all it takes. 

Dean rips off his shirt first—makin’ it even, he says—then makes quick work of his jeans. You don’t get more than a second to marvel him—flushed, tanned chest and thick everything, and heavy cock that does not look like a worm—before he’s touching you. He shimmies your shorts down, then peels your shirt over your head, leaving you in only your underwear. For a moment he just admires you, palming his cock with a tiny grin, and you roll onto your stomach.

Dean laughs, tapping your ass with a single finger. “Gettin’ shy, baby?”

“Shut up-“

“Ah.” He drags that finger down your clothed pussy. “Who tells who what to do?”

Your face burns, and you press your face further into the pillows. Dean chuckles, and you feel the bed shift as he crawls over your body. You can feel the heat coming off of him, feel the drag of his cock somewhere near your ass as he whispers in your ear.

“You were doin’ so well,” he drawls, unhooking your bra with a single hand. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

It doesn’t help. You keep grinding, trying to get some friction with the sheets. Dean’s hand comes down on your pussy with one, sharp smack, and you squeal, pushing back against his hand.

“Needy fuckin’ baby,” he mocks. “Can’t even help it, can you. Still tryin’ to be good for me.”

He hooks two fingers around your panties, pulling them tight so they push against your clit. You push back against his hand, and he smirks against your ear.

“You want a little more?”

You nod, and he snaps the fabric down, sending a tiny shock through your body.

“Say please-“

“Please,” you gasp, moving your arms up to hide your face. “Please, Dean- More- Oooh-“

Dean’s thumb finds your clit, rubbing in slow, tight circles. Your words fall off, and he fists a hand in your hair, tugging your head back to allow him to kiss you again.

He’s not cruel, with how he touches you. He’s generous, but controlled. Every stroke of your clit is deliberate, making your head spin and your mouth fall further open. That seems to be exactly how he wants you, though, because he pushes his tongue further down your throat and flicks his thumb back and forth, working you up into a writhing frenzy.

When his fingers finally push back inside of you, Dean almost seems unwilling to pull back and stop kissing you. You’re bent back and pliant under him, whimpering happily as he feeds his fore and middle finger into your hole.

“Greedy little pussy,” he rasps against your lips. “Know you’re gonna strangle my cock, baby, son of a bitch-"

He groans, like he’s the one being fingered into oblivion. He’s set a harsh pace with his wrist, snapping his fingers in and out of your cunt without relent. His thumb moved away from your clit, replaced by the heel of his palm, rubbing in tight, unrelenting circles on your swollen clit.

Every single time, he hits that spot inside of you, and your head is starting to get light. All the electricity and heat in your body is pushing down into your core, building like a bomb and threatening to explode. You almost sob, with how overwhelming the sensation is. Dean notices, kissing you a little softer.

“Poor girl,” he mutters. “Already like this and I’m not even properly fuckin’ you.”

“Your- Your hands,” you push out the word between sharp breaths. “They’re big.”

Dean grunts, his cock jumping near your ass. “Yeah, sweetheart? You like how fuckin’ big my hands are?”

“Mh- Mhm.”

You try to kiss him again. He pulls back, moving his hand impossibly faster against your cunt.

“Words,” he grunts. “You’re not stupid enough to not speak, not yet.”

“Like it,” you breathe out. “Love- Love it, Dean, oh- Oh my god-“

You moan again, and Dean grunts. His hips are starting to jerk near your ass, making him rut against you as his fingers work.

“Your close,” he mutters, pressing his fingers fully inside and crooking them against that gooey spot. “Cum for me, pretty girl. Now.”

His voice must have some kind of supernatural power over you, because that pressure in your lower tummy bursts, and your orgasm rips through you link a hurricane. Your thighs clench, trapping Dean’s hand between your legs, and he groans, rubbing his fingers harsher and harsher against your g-spot. You’re shaking and rolling beneath him, and he has to grab the back of your neck and pin it down to keep you still.

Dean works you through your orgasm, whispering low praise in your ear as you float back down to earth. Your pussy feels empty, when his fingers finally pull away. Your eyes are slightly crossed, and your smile is dazed and a little stupid.

You don’t even squeak, when Dean grabs your thigh and flips you over. You keen, back arching and body twitching, but you’re mostly just staring stupidly and happily up at him. Dean swallows, his chest rising and falling fast, and leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. You hum, eyes fluttering shut, and cup the back of his neck to hold him against you.

He drags his fingers lazily through the mess between your thighs, sending pleasurable little shivers up your spine. He drags your panties fully off your body, holding them up to his nose and taking a deep, long whiff before tossing them off to the side. He gathers your arousal on his fingers and slowly pulls away, rising over you with parted lips and gleaming, almost wholly black eyes.

Dean sucks your juices off his fingers, lapping them up with his tongue and a lazy, knowing smirk. Your breath catches. You almost push up to try and grab him, but you’re still foggy and boneless from the orgasm, and he shoves you back down with a broad hand splayed over your tummy.

“Dean-“

You cut yourself off under his stern gaze, swallowing nervously.

“Please?” You try again, and he chuckles.

“You’re cute.”

“I- I am not-“

“Yeah, you are. Cute when you cum for me,” he dips his fingers back into you, smirking lazily. “Cute when I touch you. Cute when you beg.”

“Deeeean-“

“Deeean,” he mocks, squeezing your upper thigh. “Listen to you. Fuckin’ adorable.”

You flush, a new wave of arousal hitting you like a rising tide, and you don’t even understand how you could possibly be ready that fast. Dean watches you pussy tremble and flutter, letting out a slow, rough breath.

“Son of a bitch,” he shakes his head, his hand moving to rub against his cock. “You got no idea what you do to me, baby, no fuckin’ idea.”

You swallow, watching him move against himself, almost enchanted. He really is prettier than is fair, in every possible way. His cock is thick and long, flushed at the head and leaking pre-cum against his thumb. Your tongue flicks over your lips, as you try to mentally measure the girth and length of him. You’ve taken toys before, when you got really curious. He’s bigger.

“You wanna touch, sweetheart?” He prompts, and you nod, your tongue flicking over your lips.

Dean pushes his hips forward, slowly taking your hand and guiding it against his shaft. He’s warm. Warm and hard. You dance your fingers down the length of him and he grunts, a vein ticking in his neck.

“Easy…” He rasps, and you nod nervously.

You find his balls, give them a light squeeze, and Dean catches your wrist.

“That’s enough.” He mutters, twining your fingers together. “Jesus, woman, gonna blow it before I even get inside of you.”

Your eyes widen. You’d almost forgotten about that part.

“That’s not going to fit inside of me.”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, it will.”

“No, I mean like- It can’t-“

“It can.”

“Dean, I’m serious-“

He shuts you up with a quick rough kiss, and you go embarrassingly limp. His cock rubs between the folds of your pussy, bumping and pressing against your clit, and your breath hitches. Oh, God.

“Just do what I tell ya,” he mutters. “We’re gonna make it fit.”

You do. It is very easy to do what Dean tells you, when he follows through on all his promises. When he gives you such low and certain orders, and you find yourself molding perfectly around his cock.

Because it does fit. Somehow, Dean spreads your legs and kisses your pussy once—as if he can’t help himself—before crawling over you and slowly pushing the head of his cock inside of you. It’s tight at first. He grunts, pressing his brow to you shoulder, and rubs tight circle around your clit with his thumb.

“Open up for me, baby,” he rasps. “C’mon.”

You go limp with every inch he feeds you. The stretch is glorious, pulling you apart with every drag over your fluttering walls, every low grunt of your name from Dean’s lips. His determination to tease you seems to dissolve, by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, his balls pressed against your ass. He pants in your ear, hot and heavy, and cradles your body in his arms like it’s fragile.

“Slow,” he mutters, and it sounds like he’s talking to himself more than you. “Gonna go slow.”

You keen, at the first, lazy thrust of his hips. A lewd, wet sound fills the air, and the head of Dean’s cock pushes right up against that already abused spot inside of you, making stars dance behind your eyes. Every roll of Dean’s hips makes your whole body spark. He kisses all over your face, his own voice thick and wrecked as you clench around him.  

“Takin’ me so well, baby,” he rasps. “Feels good, doesn’t it. Feels so fuckin’ good, bein’ filled up with cock like you deserve-“

His words fall into a moan, his hips snapping forward, and the air gets knocked from your lungs. A sound you’ve never heard escapes you, and Dean chuckles, kissing your open mouth as he repeats the motion.

“Yeah, you like that.” He pulls almost fully out, then slams back forward. “Say it, baby girl, say you like it-“

“I like it,” you gasp out, sounding drunk to your own ears. “Love it, Dean- Fuck- Fuuuck-“

Dean captures your mouth in another kiss, and sets a brutal, drilling pace. You’re split open with every thrust, your every nerve on fire as he fucks you like a machine. He never gets too fast, just hard. Over and over and over again, until you’re gasping for air and clawing at his shoulders. That pressure turns molten and demanding, threatening to burst. Dean’s fingers dig into your hips. He moans in your ear, his own words staring to slur.

“Tight,” he moans. “So fuckin’ tight- I- I can’t- Shit-“

Dean’s hands fumble, dragging over your thighs and as he gropes for your pussy. Two fumbling fingers find it, rubbing tight circles, and you cry out, clenching down on his cock.

“Let go, sweetheart, need you to let for ‘f me- Fuck-“

Your orgasm hits you even harder than before, and your vision goes white. Your pussy flutters and clenches, something hot gushing out as your body trembles with overwhelming pleasure. It’s a strange sensation, but not bad. Not even close. You think you scream with pleasure, but Dean slams his mouth over yours and muffles the sound.

His hips stutter and jerk. You whine his name and he grunts, slamming forward and burying himself at the hilt as his cum spurts deep inside you, mixing with your own release.

You’re almost gone to the world. Dean lies over you, kissing you as you float back down, murmuring praise you can barely hear.

“Gonna clean you up,” he grunts, and you whine when his weight disappears.

“Deeean.” You grab at the air and catch his bicep. “Stay.”

You pout at him, eyes watery and hopeful. He just chuckles, kissing your knuckles before drawing back up, and promising to return.

He better. You really don’t want to let go of him now.

Dean brings a wet, warm towel, and cleans between your thighs. You didn’t realize how sore you were until he touches you with such light hands, but it’s a good kind of sore. When you moan, it’s not even really in pain.

He brings you water. A snack and a fresh shirt, that he bundles you in like a penguin. You somehow end up curled against his chest, half asleep and smiling against his bare, warm chest.

“I like you,” Dean says suddenly, and you beam. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so bubbly in your life.

“I like you too-“

“No,” his jaw works, the words low and tight. “I like like you- Like- Fuck-“

He runs a hand over his face, shaking his head. It’s almost adorable.

“You- You’re just- That really wasn’t nothin’ for me, sweetheart, not even close-“

You take his trick. You push up on his chest, press your lips together, and kiss him until he shuts the fuck up. He kisses you back immediately, cupping your face between shaking hands. You smile against his lips, pulling back just enough to whisper, “I like you too.”

Dean’s eyes snap open, his voice hoarse. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you flush. “A- A lot.”

Dean grins. He smiles wider than you knew he could, and slams a shorter rougher kiss against your lips before pulling back again. Like he can’t stand not to look at you for too long.

“Can I take you out?” He says, and you nod.

“Can we have more sex,” you whisper, and he laughs, pressing another kiss against your lips.

“Any time you want, baby.” He says. “You’re mine now.”

✦End note: drooling for him ✦

✦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3✦

✦Buy me a coffee!☕️ (and get early access!)✦

You had just finished washing your hands when Lisa walked in. “I’m sorry about that.” Lisa surprised you. “I had no idea you two were a thing and I wouldn’t have said or done that if I knew.” She smiled. “He’s a good guy, you’re really lucky.” 

“Thank you.” Did he tell her the two of you were together? You didn’t want to correct her and make things more awkward. 

“Can I tell you something about Dean?” There was a twinkle in her eye. All you could do was nod, urging her on. “He’s a big softie and he’s great with kids. And I mean more than the him being a big kid thing. He will make a great dad one day.” It was something she pictured, especially when she watched Dean with Ben. 

There was a tint to your cheeks as you smiled at that. “That doesn’t surprise me. Especially the big softie thing. He gets really into my period romances.” His ability to show that side of him was something you loved about him. To look at him most people wouldn’t guess what a big heart he had. He was too attractive and people would likely think he was cocky or something. Sadly, you had thought it at first.

Lisa grinned at that. “Oh, I would pay to see that.” She laughed. “Anyways, enjoy the rest of your date. It was nice to meet you. I’m Lisa, by the way.” 

“I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself. “And it was nice to meet you, too. I was worried because you’re beyond gorgeous.” It was so obvious why Dean would have been into her. 

“You are, too.” It sounded like she truly believed that. “Do you and Dean have plans tomorrow? We could have a girl’s day. Get our nails done, get our hair done, do some shopping, and we can talk about that handsome man out there.” 

You’d only seen women like her in movies. They were real? “I have no idea. I can have him text you? I don’t use my cellphone for anything except emergencies.” 

That got her attention. “Oh wow. Yeah, have him let me know.” 

Nodding, you waved goodbye and made your way back to Dean. “I’m guessing Lisa going in there wasn’t a bad thing because you look happy.” Dean grinned as you slid into the booth across from him. “I’d been a bit worried.” 

You shook your head at that. “She was really nice. She apologized and said if she knew the two of us were a thing she never would have come over.” Watching him blush lightly was one of the most adorable things ever. “She wants to have a girl’s day tomorrow, too.” 

That shocked him. “What did you say?” 

“I said I would have you text her for me if we don’t have plans.” You’d never had a girl’s day before with anyone but your mother. It sounded like a lot of fun. 

“Well, I will fully support you getting pampered. I’ll even pay for it.” He offered, wanting to spoil you. 

“How about you take me to dinner tomorrow night?” You countered. “She mentioned hair, nails, and shopping.” 

Dean licked his lips, curious what you’d go with. You were already beautiful to him, so you amplifying it would likely be the death of him. “Is it a date?” He asked. 

The shy smile you gave him made him melt. “Do you want it to be?” 

“Sweetheart, I’ve wanted that since day one. Now, though?” He asked, making you nod. “No.” He saw your face falter. “I need it.” He quickly added. “You have been the only woman on my mind since that first awkward meeting, and that’s a daily thing. But, if you had only ever wanted to be friends? I would have been the best fucking friend you ever had.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. “Well, then.” You chuckled. “It’s a date.” 

Lisa had had been texting him on and off all day, hyping you up. 

Omg. She’s so funny! And it comes so natural. 

I am jealous at how good she looks in this dress she’s trying on. I’m all but pleading with her to buy it. 

Oh, there’s no way she doesn’t love you. She keeps mentioning you and what you like when picking things out. 

I know Victoria’s Secret. And now Y/N’s ;) 

Dean was dying. “Why don’t you go see if your mother needs help with anything instead of making faces at your phone?” John teased him as he walked into the living room where Dean was watching tv. Or, trying to. 

“Lisa took Y/N for a girl’s day and decided I need random updates.” He all but whined. “About how funny she is, about how she must love me, about how she looks in some dress, and now about Victoria’s Secret.” 

John laughed, shaking his head. “Do I need to warn your mother you’ll be asking for her engagement ring soon?” There was the tiniest bit of teasing, but Dean heard the bit of hope there, too. The look Dean gave him made John laugh even harder.

“We’re not even dating yet, dad!” He shook his head. “Chill. And isn’t it usually the mom’s job to rush their kids down the aisle?” Thankfully Mary had been pretty laid back so far. 

“When you know you know.” His laughter had died down and he was saying this sincerely. “If she’s getting all dolled up for you today how about you make sure you look good, too? I’m sure it would mean a lot to her.” 

After a moment of thinking, he tossed John the remote and got up to go take a shower.

You had just finished washing your hands when Lisa walked in. “I’m sorry about that.” Lisa surprised you. “I had no idea you two were a thing and I wouldn’t have said or done that if I knew.” She smiled. “He’s a good guy, you’re really lucky.” 

“Thank you.” Did he tell her the two of you were together? You didn’t want to correct her and make things more awkward. 

“Can I tell you something about Dean?” There was a twinkle in her eye. All you could do was nod, urging her on. “He’s a big softie and he’s great with kids. And I mean more than the him being a big kid thing. He will make a great dad one day.” It was something she pictured, especially when she watched Dean with Ben. 

There was a tint to your cheeks as you smiled at that. “That doesn’t surprise me. Especially the big softie thing. He gets really into my period romances.” His ability to show that side of him was something you loved about him. To look at him most people wouldn’t guess what a big heart he had. He was too attractive and people would likely think he was cocky or something. Sadly, you had thought it at first.

Lisa grinned at that. “Oh, I would pay to see that.” She laughed. “Anyways, enjoy the rest of your date. It was nice to meet you. I’m Lisa, by the way.” 

“I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself. “And it was nice to meet you, too. I was worried because you’re beyond gorgeous.” It was so obvious why Dean would have been into her. 

“You are, too.” It sounded like she truly believed that. “Do you and Dean have plans tomorrow? We could have a girl’s day. Get our nails done, get our hair done, do some shopping, and we can talk about that handsome man out there.” 

You’d only seen women like her in movies. They were real? “I have no idea. I can have him text you? I don’t use my cellphone for anything except emergencies.” 

That got her attention. “Oh wow. Yeah, have him let me know.” 

Nodding, you waved goodbye and made your way back to Dean. “I’m guessing Lisa going in there wasn’t a bad thing because you look happy.” Dean grinned as you slid into the booth across from him. “I’d been a bit worried.” 

You shook your head at that. “She was really nice. She apologized and said if she knew the two of us were a thing she never would have come over.” Watching him blush lightly was one of the most adorable things ever. “She wants to have a girl’s day tomorrow, too.” 

That shocked him. “What did you say?” 

“I said I would have you text her for me if we don’t have plans.” You’d never had a girl’s day before with anyone but your mother. It sounded like a lot of fun. 

“Well, I will fully support you getting pampered. I’ll even pay for it.” He offered, wanting to spoil you. 

“How about you take me to dinner tomorrow night?” You countered. “She mentioned hair, nails, and shopping.” 

Dean licked his lips, curious what you’d go with. You were already beautiful to him, so you amplifying it would likely be the death of him. “Is it a date?” He asked. 

The shy smile you gave him made him melt. “Do you want it to be?” 

“Sweetheart, I’ve wanted that since day one. Now, though?” He asked, making you nod. “No.” He saw your face falter. “I need it.” He quickly added. “You have been the only woman on my mind since that first awkward meeting, and that’s a daily thing. But, if you had only ever wanted to be friends? I would have been the best fucking friend you ever had.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. “Well, then.” You chuckled. “It’s a date.” 

Lisa had had been texting him on and off all day, hyping you up. 

Omg. She’s so funny! And it comes so natural. 

I am jealous at how good she looks in this dress she’s trying on. I’m all but pleading with her to buy it. 

Oh, there’s no way she doesn’t love you. She keeps mentioning you and what you like when picking things out. 

I know Victoria’s Secret. And now Y/N’s ;) 

Dean was dying. “Why don’t you go see if your mother needs help with anything instead of making faces at your phone?” John teased him as he walked into the living room where Dean was watching tv. Or, trying to. 

“Lisa took Y/N for a girl’s day and decided I need random updates.” He all but whined. “About how funny she is, about how she must love me, about how she looks in some dress, and now about Victoria’s Secret.” 

John laughed, shaking his head. “Do I need to warn your mother you’ll be asking for her engagement ring soon?” There was the tiniest bit of teasing, but Dean heard the bit of hope there, too. The look Dean gave him made John laugh even harder.

“We’re not even dating yet, dad!” He shook his head. “Chill. And isn’t it usually the mom’s job to rush their kids down the aisle?” Thankfully Mary had been pretty laid back so far. 

“When you know you know.” His laughter had died down and he was saying this sincerely. “If she’s getting all dolled up for you today how about you make sure you look good, too? I’m sure it would mean a lot to her.” 

After a moment of thinking, he tossed John the remote and got up to go take a shower.

Daryl’s fingers gripped your thighs as your fingers tangled in his hair. Your back arched, your fingers curled slightly, and you tried to pull him closer as you cried out for him. “Fuck!” You panted as he kissed your hip.

“That’s the plan, ain’t it?” He smirked, making you bite your lip.

You pulled him into a deep kiss before he rolled the pair of you, his rough hands moving up your back. Your lips moved with his as you rocked your hips, grinding against his arousal.

Sam was looking up everything he could on newborns at the moment. He was sick, and therefor not much use in the field. Which left Dean pretty much on his own. Coming out of the bathroom, you chuckled at how his eyes were half closed as he read. “Why don’t you take a damn nap?” You teased. “Too much reading.” He said, although he was so stuffed up it was muffled.

Sighing, you shook your head. “Sam, I’m 32 weeks. Not 40. Besides, you’re going to get so much conflicting information. I’ve looked. Don’t go on mommy forums.” He looked at you, raising an eyebrow. “I’d go back to high school for a year rather than spend a week on one of those.”

“That bad?” He couldn’t believe they were actually that bad. They were mommy forums, how bad could they be?

“Sam.” You looked him dead in the eyes. “You have NO idea.”

“Um…Okay. Stay away from the mommy forums. Got it.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the look on his face. “Leave that for Dean.” You smirked, knowing that Dean was likely looking everything up at night when you and Sam were asleep. “I’m sure he would just love them. Him and this ‘hot mom’ thing he has going on for whenever she starts school…”

Sam laughed, nodding. Coughing, he grabbed his water and took a swig. “Good idea.”

Lying next to Daryl, his arms were around you, and your arm was draped over him. You had buried your face in his chest once the two of you were comfortable. A few hours later, the door slamming jerked the two of you awake. “Daryl?!” Came a male’s voice.

“Goddam it.” He grumbled. He kissed you gently before getting up. “My brother.” Daryl told you, pulling on his jeans. You were leaning back on your elbows, the sheet on your hips. “Don’t go nowhere on me.” He leaned over, kissing you again before heading out to the living room.

“So, I think we should decide where we want to stay for now.” Dean glanced in the rearview mirror at you. “Until after she’s born.” He pointed out. “Can you please tell us her name, so I can refer to her as anything but ‘her’ and ‘she’?”

“I’m not sure if I wanna tell you.” You teased. “It’s too fun not telling you.”

Dean groaned. “Oh come on.” Sam laughed at the two of you. “Shut it Sammy. You wanna know just as much as I do.”

Sam looked back at you, noting your mischievous look. “You do realise that you’re playing right into her hands right? If you stopped bugging her she would tell you.”

“Dammit Sam. Don’t give away all my secrets.” You giggled. “Look Dean, you really wanna know?”

“Well yeah.” Dean’s face lit up with excitement. Sam quickly spun in his seat to face you.

You took a deep breath. “Well..her name is…a girl’s name.”

“So help me Y/N, if ya don’t stop tormenting us, I… I…I will never buy you pizza again.” Dean mock glared at you through the rear-view mirror.

“Okay, okay. I thought the name Cheyenne would be perfect, what do you think?” You asked the boys, nervous for their views.

Sam smiled. “Cheyenne Winchester.” He mused. “I like it. Have you thought of a middle name?”

You shrugged. “I was hoping you guys would. I thought it’d be nice if part of her name came from you guys.”

“Really?” Dean asked, pleasantly surprised. When you nodded, he grinned. “Alright, Sammy, let’s get brainstorming!”

“You guys are gonna take this way too seriously, aren’t you?” You asked, a huge grin on your face. You loved how involved they were with your daughter’s life. She wasn’t even born yet and she was already so loved.

“You know it sis.” Dean and Sam spoke at the same time, causing the brothers to glare at each other for a moment before bursting out laughing. You loved moments like this. Although your daughter wouldn’t have Daryl in her life, she would have more than enough love from the three of you.

After the two of you hung up, he was torn about what he was thinking. He really felt he was attracted to you at first sight. But he felt bad for even thinking that. Especially with what you were going through with Mark. He truly hated the man but knew if he did anything else as Arrow, you’d catch on. More than you already had. Which was slightly impressive.

He also didn’t mean to make you nervous for work and wondered if he should show. But, he also wanted to make sure the other workers were being respectful. He felt you were very attractive no matter how you thought of yourself and knew guys would be looking. Sighing, he decided he’d go, and try to keep out of your sight.

He felt himself dressing up just slightly and before he knew it, he was standing on one of the stairs, eyeing the empty club right before opening. He heard Tommy showing you around and stayed in the shadows. He listened to you ask questions, clearly wanting to make sure you got things right. He had a feeling you’d be a good worker. Most just did it for the money or the name. He leaned against the railing and watched you, smiling softly as you laughed. 

When Laurel arrived at 7, the kids had already eaten dinner, and cleaned up. She smiled as Maggie had set up all of her toys and few polishes. “Party time?” Laurel chuckled. Maggie eagerly nodded, making Laurel smile. “First I’m gonna help your mom get ready for work, okay?”

“Okay! I wait.” She kicked happily. She played with some toys while Laurel went to your room with you. 

“I brought a few things so that you can mix and match for the next couple weeks until you can get some stuff you’d like.” She smiled. 

You widened your eyes as she took the stuff out. “I’m glad I managed to shave.” You mumbled. “Are you sure that will even fit me?” You asked, blushing. She was still fit, as you were sure she went to the gym. You had that mom body.

“I’m sure. I also brought shape wear just in case you wanted that. But I think you’ll look amazing.” She smiled. “I love shapewear.” She shrugged. “Hey, you stress eat an entire pizza before a party and not need it.” She teased when you looked at her in disbelief.

You smiled slightly at that. “True, I guess.” You went to get dressed. A little while later, you came out of the bathroom. “I don’t think I’ve even tried to wear something like this since before Clay.” You blushed brightly.

She beamed. “You look fantastic. Expect huge tips.” She winked, making your face heat up more. “Want me to do your makeup?” She offered.

“Oh, it’s already done.” You bit your lip, shaking your head. “But, yeah, you can fix it.”

She gave you a shy smile. “Sorry.” She went to look at your makeup and nodded. “I can work with this.” She assured you. 

“Okay.” You sat patiently. 

You were nervous as all hell when you pulled up to the club that night at 8. Your heels felt as if they were too loud as you stepped onto the sidewalk. Chewing on your lip, you blushed as Tommy came out, whistling at you. “Shut it.” You chuckled.

“If I wasn’t a happily taken man I’d get some thoughts.” He teased. “You look great.” He hugged you.

You playfully smacked his arm before hugging him back. “Yeah, yeah.” You chuckled. “Alright. Show me around, boss.” You teased.

He winked and led you in, getting into the basics. “You get two breaks, and a lunch.” He explained. “There’s usually food in the back, but if you want something ordered, that’s fine. Going out to grab something usually doesn’t work.” 

You nodded. “Takes too long, got it.” You let out a breath. “Will you be around during the night? Oliver said he comes sometimes, too.”

“Sometimes.” Tommy nodded. “We both like to check on things. But he just likes to socialize.” He chuckled. “You’ll barely notice he’s here.” 

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.” You licked your lips. “I’m guessing now that the tour is over I need to fill out papers or something?” It’d been too long since you had a job.

“You’re ahead of the game.” He chuckled, leading you towards the back office. "So, how are the kids dealing with you being gone tonight? Getting home so late."

“I think Clay is happy.” You chuckled. “Maggie might cling to Laurel and never let you have her back.” You told him. "I left them playing princess spa."

He laughed. “I’m sure she doesn’t mind that.” 

Oliver had watched the pair of you head into the office and smiled to himself. He knew you’d fit right in and he couldn’t wait to talk to you again. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he made his way to another part of the building. He looked forward to seeing you work. He was curious to see what you were wearing, as he'd only caught a glimpse.

He eyed the floor as people began to file in and Tommy showed you how to take a few orders. He then introduced you to the other girls. He smiled to himself as he saw your outfit, knowing it was Laurels. In his opinion it looked better on you. 

It was an hour into your shift, and your nerves will still insane. You hadn’t been in a crowd this big in ages, and you weren’t sure where to focus. The music made it a million times harder for people to get your attention, which didn't help. When your break came, you rushed out to get a breath of air in one of the halls. Leaning your head back, you closed your eyes and focused.

Oliver came down the hall and wondered if to approach you. Would he make things worse? He cleared his throat. “I can pretend I didn’t see you and go to the office?” He asked. 

You jumped slightly and looked over at him. “Are you a ninja?” You asked.

He smiled. “Possibly.” He nodded. “You look nice.” He complimented. “You seem to be learning fast, as well.”

You blushed brightly. “Thank you.” You said softly. “How long have you been here?” You were curious.

“Couple hours.” He shrugged. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You sighed. “Overwhelmed, honestly.” You pushed off the wall that you were against. “It’s loud, crowded, and very attractive.” You chuckled. 

He smirked slightly. “That’s a really good explanation.” He nodded. “I’m sure you’ll get used to it. I mean, you wrangle the kids all the time, right?” He joked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, but I can lift one of them up to carry her to another room…” You smiled.

“Yeah, can’t say that works here.” He chuckled. “I mean, you could try, but I don’t think that would go over very well, honestly.”

You giggled. “No.” You agreed. “I better get back.” You motioned to the door you had come through. 

He nodded. “Thanks for chatting with me.” He opened the door for you. “And have a good rest of the night.”

You eyed him shyly. “Thank you, Oliver.” You stepped in, taking a deep breath. 

It was nearly three by the time that you got home. Your heels had been taken off as soon as you got into the car. You yawned as you walked into your apartment, groaning softly. You were thankful that you only did this two nights a week, but Maggie would be up in about 4 hours. Up and very energetic. You would need a lot of coffee.

You went to get Laurel and smiled as you saw she had fallen asleep with Maggie. "Laurel." You patted her leg, whispering.

She hummed as she began shifting and blinked awake. “Oh, hey.” She yawned, getting up to stretch. "What time is is?"

“Just about three.” You winced as you stretched as well. "Thought you'd wanna get home."

She nodded and hugged you. “Tell me all about it tomorrow, okay?” She grabbed her shoes from Maggie's floor.

You nodded. “Deal. I haven’t stayed up this late since teething season.” You chuckled. "See you tonight, technically."

She smiled and waved once she got everything going. You followed her out to make sure she got to her car. Waving as she pulled out, you felt you'd be okay. You gave one last yawn before rushing to change into pjs. Morning would come far too soon.

Maggie let you sleep a tiny bit later than you figured but she was soon poking you. "Mommyyyyy." She sang.

“No, Mags.” You whined. "Nap with me?"

“I just woke up mommy.” She cuddled to your side. "I'm hungry."

You sighed and rubbed your eyes. “Okay. Give me a sec.” You shifted to sit up.

She smiled and hugged a pillow as she looked up at you. "Laurel is fun!" She said finally.

“Is she?” You smiled. “Sounds like she had a blast.” You pulled her into your lap. "She'll be here again today." 

She hugged you. “Yay!” She said excitedly. "We played princess, and she made us snacks."

“Yummy snacks?” You gently tamed her hair with your fingers. "She looked comfy lying with you last night."

She nodded quickly. “Yummy snacks. And she watched shows with me before bed!” She told you, excitedly.

“Well she sounds like an amazing babysitter.” You carried her as you stood. "But I'll be only two nights a week."

She pouted. “Okay. Will Tommy come?” She asked, hopeful. "Or Oliver?!" She gasped.

You fought a wince. “You like Oliver?” You smiled instead. 

"A lot!" She nodded as you set her on the counter. 

“I’m sure he’d be happy to hear that.” You chuckled. "He likes you guys, too."

“Me more?” She grinned. "I'm cute!"

You laughed. “You sure are.” You began making them breakfast. Clay would probably wake up midmorning. It was fine with you for that particular day. Weekends were his days to sleep in.

Maggie swung her legs. “Work was fun?” She asked. 

"It was." You nodded. "And loud."

She gasped. “Like a party?” She asked, in awe. "Fun!!"

You chuckled. “I had to bring orders of drinks to people.” You explained. “It was very crowded. You know how Disney looks on tv?” She nodded. “Like that, but no kids, and it’s darker.” 

She scrunched her nose. “Sounds scary.” She muttered, no longer interested in it. “Can I play until it’s time to eat?” She asked. 

Chuckling, you nodded.