supernatural fics

*winces at you cracking your knuckles* don’t even talk to me about knuckle cracking. my brother can crack his toes. it’s so weird. ;-) also, sorry A) this wasn’t really drabble but more of a ficlet B) I just rambled, it was so long and C) it could’ve been a little more hand-sy! Tell me if you think it’s okay, though.

-

Professor Winchester’s hands were… distracting.

All through class that morning, while he had been writing on the board, you had thanked anyone holy that you could think of that he hadn’t asked you a question because, God, his hands were pornographic. Just watching his hands move, the gentle flex of his fingers, the way his hands were so large and rough and just thick but he could moved them with such precision and delicacy… it got you thinking about what those hands would feel like on you. Professor Winchester had been giving you looks like he was eye-undressing you and he’d winked at you with his mouth open and he had purposefully brushed past you a few times on your way out of class, but that wasn’t… maybe it was just wishful thinking. But, the thought of those hands running up your bare skin, up your sides and curving in at your breasts, the roughness of his palms as he squeezed any prominent part of you he could find, the gentleness of the pads of his fingers exploring every inch of yo-

“What are you thinking about?” 

You jumped.

Coming back to your senses, you realised that it was none other than Professor Winchester. You had had the library to yourself for hours, even the librarian had cleared out (as long as you were gone by 10), because… well, it was Friday night and everyone else was living up the university life. But you had a test on Monday, and you needed some peace and quiet.

Until the Professor strolled right up to the couch you were sitting on in the corner.

So much for that.

“Cat got your tongue, huh?” he smirked, and you mentally slapped yourself for looking like you’d just been caught stealing.

Cheeks going crimson, you cleared your throat. “Haha, yeah.”

He stepped a little closer.

“So, what’s a fine young thing like you doing in here on a Friday night? Thought the whole point of college was to party” he teased, biting his lip after he’d finished.

“Oh, just… just studying for that test on Monday” you shrugged in an attempt to seem nonchalant.

“Already?” he mused, and before you could respond, he cocked an eyebrow and added, “what a good girl you are.”

You crossed your legs, squeezing your thighs together as if to scold yourself for allowing your underwear to even dampen a little at his lowered voice, only to find it made your situation even worse.

“Mind if I join you, sweetheart? Just wanna, ya know, help you out a little.” 

Sweetheart. What the hell.

“Sure, Professor” you replied too quickly and cursed internally.

The Professor sat himself next to you and angled himself so his chest was almost touching your back. You were panicking, so aroused from your thoughts and his recent actions that you were bound to slip up.

“You can call me Dean” you could feel his breath on your neck.

“I prefer Sir. It sounds better” you tried a joke to make it seem like you weren’t so nervous, laughing anxiously afterwards.

He chuckled. “Whatever you say.” A pause. “Look, you’re on the wrong page - you’ve read too far in” he murmured, and then his hand was clasped around yours whilst he moved it away from the book you were holding, flicking it back a few pages. His hand felt warm and rough and everything you thought it would feel, but more than that. He edged closer as the thumb of his other hand leafed for the right page, that arm around the other side to the one he was holding.

“Yeah, sorry, Sir I just… I find it hard to focus on books sometimes.”

“Obviously.” he laughed again and you exhaled through your nose.

Suddenly, he realised his hand was still gripping yours and he released your own fingers and palm from his clutches.

You were so turned on you involuntarily let out a short, quiet whine at the sudden loss of contact.

Shit. You had definitely blown it now. And the fact that he had withdrawn by letting go of your ha-

“So, I guess you prefer a more hands on approach?” the Professor’s voice was full-on husky now, a low sound which made you shiver slightly. 

“You could say that” that came out more seductively than you had predicted, as some of your nerves had dissolved with the knowledge that he seemed turned on.

“Uh huh, cause I was thinking…” Dean’s lips were now on the shell of your ear, and his palms were running flat along your bare thighs (thank God you had chosen to wear shorts that day), dragging his fingers along with them. Your skin tingled at the brush of his fingertips. “Maybe, uh…” his hands were suddenly curling around your ass and it gave you a shock but also an electric jolt up the pussy because his hands had brushed past your clothed opening, so you unwittingly bucked your hips at the movement and he rumbled an “mmm”. He pulled you onto his lap, and, unable to control it any more, you wiggled your ass so you could get as far back as possible. “Maybe you could try something different, make my teaching more… memorable.”

“Oh, Sir, your classes are memorable all right.”

“Yeah, but that’s just ‘cause you look at me like you want me to bend you over my desk the whole time.”

You grunted, slightly animalistically. “That obvious, huh?”

“Yeah, babe. That obvious.” Dean’s hands slid up your shirt and he pulled them up across your stomach, slipping them under your bra and rolling your nipples with each forefinger and thumb. “Now, how about we relax for a bit on a study break?”

-

5 minutes later you were bouncing unsteadily on Dean’s cock, his shirt unbuttoned but still over his arms and shoulders, his trousers and boxers pooled at his ankles. your bottom half was entirely bare, and you had disposed of your bra from under your shirt, the fabric of your shirt ridden up so it was pulled over your breasts and no more of your skin, revealing the rest of your torso. 

The Professor was sat back on the couch, lazily trailing his finger up your body and circling his fingers around your nipples while you levered yourself up and down again and again, making effort noises and whining.

Wasn’t that the teacher’s job? To start something off and let the student do all the work?

He licked his lips and pressed his thumb to your clit, and you felt it pulse as his other gorgeous hand massaged your ass, his fingers contracting and retracting and his now hot palm almost burning against your cool, exposed skin. He laid back with his mouth wide open, tongue hanging out, drinking you in.

“Sir, fuck- oh” your noises and breathless bouncing suddenly stopped when Dean’s hands were grabbing at your face and he was pulling you in to a kiss, the first one between the two of you. His plush, permanently swollen lips were merely complementing the way his hands felt on your face; cradling your cheeks, you could finally feel them where it felt the most personal as his thumbs rubbed the corners of your jaw and his hands suddenly felt soft.

After what seemed like a mere second, he pulled away.

“Okay, babygirl, break over.”

“But, Sir, I haven’t even come yet” you groaned, rolling your hips a little on his cock before he gripped your sides and halted your movements.

“You wanna come? Finish reading that chapter.” With a single swift movement, he lifted you off him and his cock, slick with your own juices. You sighed, suddenly feeling empty.

“But, Professor” you dragged out the last word.

“You need to finish studying, girl - but I won’t take my hands off ya, ‘kay?” he reassured you as he stood up, pulling his boxers and trousers up and moving to fetch your shorts and underwear.

“Wait – hands off me…?”

“You think I haven’t noticed how much you worship these things?” Dean wiggled his hands at you. 

Pairing: Dean x reader

Song: .where do we belong? anywhere but here. - frnkiero and the cellabration

Summary: Dean and the reader are best friends, and apparently nothing more, but one day they end up in a compromising position. Afterwards, Dean flees quickly and the situation is supposed to be forgotten but Sam knows that the reader is in love with Dean, and knows how much Dean’s behaviour since the incident has hurt her, so he makes it known to Dean, too. Fluff, fluff, fluff…

Words: 2,444

Warnings: crying, shaking, raised voices (so shouting), negative personal body image (only portrayed by the word “ugly”, though).

A/N: I currently have 11 requests (don’t let that stop you from sending in more, though ;) )… I’m sorry this isn’t one of them! This story was begging to be told, though. Writers get that sometimes. I apologise again! I’ll get back on the requests soon, I promise. Meanwhile, enjoy and tell me what you think, please :) P.S. Can anyone spot the reference to one of my first fics on here, ‘the Perks of Being Short’?

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('y/n', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

-

“Dean” Sam took a deep breath and began. “You need to do something about y/n.” “What?” Dean looked up from his laptop, where he had been avoiding doing research all day. “There’s nothing wrong.” “Nothing wrong?!” the younger Winchester brother repeated incredulously. “You must have noticed how different things have been since…” Sam didn’t particularly want to add the ending onto the sentence. He didn’t particularly need to, either. “Sam, we’ve been through this, you and me. It was a mistake, and it needs to be left behind.” Dean said pointedly “This is exactly what I mean, Dean!” Sam shook his head in disbelief. “You’re ignoring the obvious here.” “What ‘obvious’? There is no ‘obvious’, Sam. You have no idea how I feel about y/n, so could you kindly butt out of my business?” Dean snapped, extremely agitated now he knew Sam wouldn’t immediately dismiss the subject. “Alright, if you’re gonna be like that, I’ll have to spell it out for you.” Dean made a face and attempted to appear as if he wasn’t listening. “So you sleep with her - your best friend, you sleep with your best friend - and then you sneak out of her room in the middle of the night when she finally thought you’d give her some actual affection beyond getting all up in her business. You didn’t even have the decency to hold her for a substantial amount of time. And then you act as if nothing had ever happened. And she keeps giving you that look, you know, that look, the “how are you so oblivious to the truth” look, but you completely ignore it. Then you bring some random girl back here and act as if what happened between the two of you was nothing. Like you don’t even care about her. And believe me, sitting with her while you’ve got a girl round is pretty much the same as watching her heart break. Again and again, you do it. She loves you, Dean, and you’re treating her like some kind of secret booty call.” “Sam, you’re being melodramatic. She doesn’t love me.” Dean’s voice was very quiet, now. He wasn’t making enough effort to seem nonchalant: the redness of his cheeks was apparent, and he was staring at the screen of his laptop furiously, refusing to lay his eyes on anything else. “You can’t continue to ignore this, Dean. You can’t avoid this like you’ve avoided every other problem you’ve ever had with another human being. We’re brothers and we’ll always get over our differences, and I know that, but she’s different. You’re absolutely breaking her. That isn’t what you want, is it?” Abruptly, Dean stood up. “You’re wrong. You’re being ridiculous. I don’t believe a word of that, alright? Just leave me alone, Sam.” He walked to the door, almost too calmly. “Just leave me alone.” “Fine!” Sam shouted after his angered sibling. “Next time you bring one of those girls round, I’ll show you!” Dean pretended he didn’t hear that. - You heard a giggle through the wall that separated you and Dean’s rooms from one another. Another girl. You thought about how Dean had looked at you that night he slept with you; how carefully he treated you; how good he made you feel, as if he already knew your body better than you did… And how it had all been fake. A lie. How could he have done that to you? You’d been in love with him for years, so you jumped at the chance to do something with him which people who were more than friends did… You regretted it so, so much though. This time, it was a moan that was audible from the room next to yours. No wonder he wanted to make her feel good, she was beautiful and intelligent and interesting, not to mention sexy, a stark contrast to how you thought of yourself. You picked up the shirt you’d stolen from Dean’s laundry basket and brought it up to your face, inhaling the scent of him. At first, you’d thought that it seemed stalker-ish, but that thought was quickly cast out of your mind when you discovered it helped you sleep. It was almost as if he was in the bed with you, holding you. Dean will probably hold that girl when they’re done with… It. He’ll enjoy it, too. He never wanted to hold me… You buried the whole of your face in his shirt now, in order to muffle the strangled sobs that had involuntarily started escaping you. Your whole body shook as you sat cross-legged on your bed, crying into Dean’s soft, warm shirt, which smelled too much like him for your own good. You barely heard the knock at your door that rang out through your bedroom. You didn’t tell the person asking to come in not to do so, however, because you knew it wouldn’t be Dean, as Dean was… Busy, so it had to be Sam. He knew about your love for Dean, so he would be understanding and hopefully wouldn’t panic. Not moving your head from its current position, you heard the door creak open when the person knocking got no response. The next thing to reach your ears was Sam’s voice. “Y/n, have you seen Dean’s shirt? He says it’s been missing for- oh, y/n, are you alright?” Sam asked, concerned, when all you did was continue to blubber into the fabric you held in your hands, instead of addressing your friend in any way. “-You aren’t, are you? Wait two seconds, I’ll be right back and we’ll talk if you like.” Sam rushed off before you could ask him anything like where he was going or what he was doing. Part of you had lost the ability to care, quite frankly, though, so you weren’t too hung up about missing out on questioning Sam.

A couple of minutes later, after trying your hardest to ignore the scuffling sound emerging from Dean’s room, you heard Sam’s footsteps coming towards you, indicating that he had returned. Still, in your situation of utter despair mentally, you failed to move from the stature you’d been in for multiple minutes now, prior to when Sam had first entered your room. “Y/n, what’s wrong? Why are you sad?” Sam asked kindly. If you hadn’t been so intensely focused on the reason of your upset, you would have acknowledged the fact that Sam was still in the doorway (he hadn’t taken any more footsteps, as far as you were aware) and considered it odd. Oh, what’s the harm in telling him? I’ve got nothing to lose. “I’m sad because Dean is with another girl, and that girl is beautiful, really b-beautiful and he’s probably going to hold her and call her sweetheart and kiss her afterwards and he didn’t d-d-do any of that for me because I’m not beautiful and I realised h-how ugly he must have thought I was and how much he must have regretted s-s-sleeping - sleeping with me because he l-left and he didn’t want me in his arms and he’ll never see that what happened wasn’t just a - a casual hook up and a night that meant n-nothing because it’s obvious that I love him b-b-b-but I’ll never tell him because he’ll never love me.” You blurted, stumbling over your words. You heard a gasp from the direction of the door way. It was strange because it didn’t sound like one that would come from Sam - it didn’t sound like his voice. Also, you were certain this would come as no shock to him, because he knew about your feelings for Dean already. Finally, you looked up to find some answers as to where that gasp came from and why it ever happened, when you saw Dean standing next to Sam, not daring to go past the door frame, like a cliché vampire who hadn’t been invited in to someone’s home. His eyes were widened and you watched him ball his shaking hands into fists, as if to fool everyone that they were sturdy in that moment. “S-Sam? Why would you…” you felt betrayed that Sam had exposed your emotions to Dean, even if it was his duty to hide nothing from his brother. “Y/n, I’m so sorry it had to happen this way, but there’s no easy approach to the circumstance, really. I had to make sure it did happen, and soon. I couldn’t see you break like this for much longer.” Sam provided a hurried explanation for you, but in your eyes, it didn’t redeem him. You didn’t have time to be angry, because that was the least of your worries, you were soon to find out. “Sam” Dean turned to his younger brother. “Please go and tell Sophie that I’m sorry, but she has to leave. And, no, I will not say goodbye to her” he stated, predicting the girl he’d brought home’s reaction in advance. He didn’t bother to include an apology for the girl in his instructions for Sam. Without hesitation of any kind, Sam left the room.

“I feel like I’m in a Clint Eastwood movie…” Dean told you, looking happier than he had in a long time.

“… Or Back to the Future 3″ Sam offered.

“Love me some Eastwood, but Back to the Future will always be my favourite” you admitted.

Sam mumbled something about an antique and made his way to the other side of the saloon.

“So, y/n… Are you liking dressing in that massive… thing?” Dean motioned to the large dress you had to wear to fit the part.

You made a “hmph” sound. He nodded, seemingly understanding.

“Yeah, that looks like a total drag. You must like my get up though, babe…” he winked, which, along with his outfit, was enough to turn you into a mess.

You nodded in agreement, grunting through gritted teeth, turned on just by the sight of Dean like this.

“Oh, you’re liking that, are you?” he smirked. “Maybe we’ll have a play around with it later, then…” 

-

That night, you and Dean entered the room on the second floor of the saloon that Dean had insisted on paying for.

You moved to undress and get into bed, having a big day ahead of you tomorrow. Dean stood watching you in his outfit, making no move to undress or change himself.

“So, y/n…” he began. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy?” he grinned.

“Oh, God, have I been waiting for that all day” you smiled back at him, before he practically threw you on the bed and joined you there.

Once hovering over you, Dean moved to take his hat off.

“Don’t you dare” you growled.

A/N: this is for Madi, my bae, who suggested this. Sorry it was much longer than expected… x

P.S. This is to (partly) make up for my lack of posting lately…

-

Your eyes scanned the bar or club or whatever the hell it was (illegal in some way, too,  you were certain of that) for the friend that you’d come with. It was only 9 o’clock, meaning the night had barely started, so where could she possibly b-

Your breath hitched in your throat as you saw a man in his mid twenties staring at you, unabashed and absent-minded, his head tilted to the side musingly. When he witnessed that he’d caught your eye, he turned his head straight and looked at you with intent that could only be described as the most intense eye-fucking you’d ever laid eyes on. 

He was hot. 

Not in a casual, take-it-or-leave-it kind of way… in an oh-my-God-can-he-just-take-me-on-the-kitchen-table-already kind of way.

You lowered your head slightly and returned his pointed look for a couple of seconds, before swivelling your head round nonchalantly and walking away to the bar, revelling in the chance to tease him.

-

Around 3 hours later, you were thinking of your friend as you glanced over at the man for about the 36th time that evening. Every time he saw you looking, he gave you the same look he had the first time.

You couldn’t just leave your friend, though, especially as she was nowhere to be found.

Your phone vibrated.

Sorry babes, something came up. Had to go.

BTW I saw that sex God staring at you… go get em.

You smiled, finally sauntering over to the stranger.

“You want something?” you stood on tiptoe, deciding that an introduction was optional here, and whispered in his ear seductively.

You returned to your normal standing position so you could view his face, and found the man smirking a smirk that made you weak at the knees. His eyes roamed your body greedily, taking his time over his sweep up and down. 

“I don’t know what you think I’m waiting for” you growled.

The man’s jaw dropped.

-

Roughly, the man pushed you into the wall of the nearest public bathroom, colliding his lips with yours desperately. 

The two of you were furiously making out, one of his hands keeping your arms above your head, when he mumbled “Dean” against your mouth.

“y/n” you complied, breaking your arms free of his strong yet soft hand. You hurriedly moved to take your shirt off.

“Babe” the word rolled off Dean’s tongue so smoothly, so sexily that you felt like he was already fucking you. “I’ve been undressing you with my eyes for three hours. I need to do it for real.”

You giggled playfully and held your arms up once more.

-

The worry you should have recognised earlier sank in slightly as Dean shoved down your underwear and kneeled down. Slowly, he draped one of your legs over his shoulder, before burying his face in your pussy.

The two of you weren’t even in a cubicle, you considered as Dean’s tongue lapped at places between your legs you didn’t even think could feel that stimulated. Someone could walk in on you so easily…

“We’re exposed, you know, and anyone could find us if we stay he- oh, Dean, fuck” you whined your words after your sentence had been interrupted, throwing your head back and panting, as Dean leisurely swirled his tongue in circles around your clit. 

Shortly afterwards, you gave up on not being caught as Dean licked a quick stripe up your clit, electrifying you in a way his mouth hadn’t in previous moments. You inhaled sharply at the abrupt yet sweet sensation, letting out a filthy, low moan when you exhaled.

You felt Dean smirk against you.

“Can you just fuck me now?” you asked breathlessly, yet slightly sarcastically.