dean jesus christ

Dean was yelling at Mary, telling her about how he hates her. And he keeps using examples including his brother’s struggles.
Sam lost the girl he loved.
Sam was tortured in hell.
Sam was possessed by Lucifer.
Sam lost his soul.
And then I realized. Dean was abused and traumatized and broken down so many times. He knows that what he went through is fucked up. He might not recognize the severity, but he’s not stupid. He knows his life was never fair to him.
But he’s still more angry about Sam’s trauma than his own. He still thinks Sam is more important. To his mother. To the world.
That makes me really sad.

JENSEN FUCKING ACKLES HOLDING UP HIS LITTLE SIBLINGS

Another Chance

Summary: The reader ends up on a double date with Dean and she is not happy about it. Will they have a good time or will they drive themselves and everyone else crazy?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,979

Natalie’s 1,000 Follower Celebration Challenge - “Marriage! The end of spontaneous sex, travelling by yourself, and buying whatever you want without having to ask permission. Right?” – How To Be Single. @frickfracklesackles


“I can’t do this. I’m leaving your ass here. Call me when you need to be picked up!” You declare strongly, ignoring the sheer panic flashing across your best friend’s pretty features.

“Don’t you dare. Let’s go!” Jenny huffs theatrically, grabbing a hold of your bicep and refusing to set you free.

“I did not agree to this.” You whine dramatically making your best friend suddenly shoot daggers at you.

“You agreed to go on this double date! Come on, Y/N. This is my first date with Sam and I’m really nervous. I need a buffer.”

“I figured my date would be someone I actually like. Sam has so many cute friends and he picked his god damn brother. What the fuck?”

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An Offer He Can’t Refuse

Title: An Offer He Can’t Refuse

Summary:  The reader tries to make it up to Dean after they argue, even though she’s not sure what he’s angry about.

Author:  Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Characters:  Dean Winchester x female reader

Word Count: 2592

Warnings:  nsfw, explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex

Author’s Notes:  Written for @avasmommy224 birthday challenge. It had to include smut and the prompt “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

Originally posted by canonspngifs

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Say my name.

Pairing : DeanxReader, Sam
Word count : 1,625
Author : Mel

A/N : this is what happens when I have to pee at 4am, and my kid’s radio is playing “Say my name.” by Destiny’s Child.



You were sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the floor and trying to keep your nerve when the Impala pulled in outside. You waited quietly and patiently for them to come into the room. You hoped they didn’t get hurt on this hunt, or your nerve would be gone. Holding your breath as their boots came loser to the door, you glanced up as it finally opened and Dean walked in smiling, with Sam behind him.

“Hey baby.” Dean grinned at you. Both boys looked unhurt, which gave you a sense of relief for just a moment, but you didn’t miss how Sam instantly furrowed his brows at the sight of you.

“What’s my name, Dean.”

“What?” His smile was gone and he was confused.

“Say my name.”

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The Mark

Characters:  MOC!Dean x Reader

Summary:  Dean has the Mark. The reader can tell he’s holding back during sex and urges him to just let go.

Word Count:  1277

Warnings: Language and Smut.  Really, it’s just porn.  

A/N:  My headcanon is that Dean is a very giving lover. For him, sex isn’t just about getting off, but about human connection and mutual pleasure. I’ve been thinking a lot about (and discussing with @torn-and-frayed ) what MOC!Dean is like. Here’s what I came up with.

Tags are at the bottom.  As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated. 

Originally posted by lost-shoe

The Mark

Fucking hell, she feels good. She’s spread out beneath me, her legs wide, her feet hooked around my ankles. I’ve only got the tip of my dick in her, but fuck me. She’s so wet and warm and tight. I’m trying my hardest to hold back, I’m feeling so desperate to be inside of her, deep and hard. I take a shallow breath and close my eyes, just trying to focus on the feel of her wrapped around the head of my shaft.

I feel her hand cover the Mark on my forearm, it feels soothing somehow. The Mark is constantly tugging at me, digging into me, but her touch relieves some of the irritation. I open my eyes and focus on hers. It grounds me somehow, staring into those beautiful eyes.

“Dean,” she says softly. “It’s okay, let go. I know you’re holding back, just let go.”

I swallow hard because Jesus Christ, I just want to let go. The Mark has changed me in so many ways. It scares me but makes me feel so alive all at once. Sex has always been about giving for me. I mean, getting it is good. It’s really fucking good. To be honest, this life is a lonely life, there hasn’t been much warmth or human connection, so when I’m with a woman, I want to make it last. It’s about her as much as it is about me. The Mark makes me volatile, it freaks me out. A lot. I don’t want to scare her. I’m a goddamn ticking time bomb, I feel like I’m going to explode at any moment.

“I…can’t…” I trail off. Jesus, I’m inside of her, and we are having this discussion. The Mark is screaming, roaring in my blood. I want to take her, I want to do it hard and fast. I want it so bad.

Her eyes soften. “Dean, I trust you.”  

Jesus Christ, that does me in. I give in to my urges and sink as deep into her as I can, right to the fucking base of my cock. She gasps, her eyes rolling back in her head. The look of pure pleasure on her face sends me over the edge. I take her breast in my hand and palm it roughly, pressing against the taut nipple, she bucks her hips up and moans in response. Fuck, that’s hot. Leaning in, I kiss her, shoving my tongue into her mouth. I’m not gentle and she doesn’t want me to be, her tongue fighting with mine as I pound into her. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air. When I pull my lips from hers, she’s breathing so fucking heavy, her eyes lidded. Her breasts jiggle every time I slam into her, and damn, it’s sexy. I’m overcome with a sudden desire to taste her. I pull out and she makes a high pitched, keening sound. Damn, I should’ve done this sooner.

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Repay You

2,500 Followers Drabble

Prompt: “I miss the days when you were cute and innocent.“

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Requested by: @kas-not-cas


Pink. 

All Dean sees before him is god damn pink. How did he get here? Why is he here? This isn’t good. And he doesn’t fucking like it one bit. He’s not ready for this shit. He’ll never be ready for this shit. It’s inevitable but Dean isn’t prepared enough for this right now. 

“Can we move this along, sweetheart? I’m hungry.” Dean whines, heavily pacing in front of his daughter’s dressing room.

“Don’t rush me, dad! You don’t like anything that I pick!” Nicole huffs throwing on another dress.

“Pick something appropriate and we’ll be fine.” Dean groans rubbing his temples.

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Throwing Off The Towel - Dean Ambrose x Reader

Summary:- You and Dean start riding together and sharing hotel rooms to save money, and one night, you go for a shower, forgetting to take your shampoo. You go back into the room in a towel to grab what you need - and give Dean a sight he can’t keep his hands off. 

Warnings:-Smut, Swearing, Some Fluff

Word Count:-1,422

@fandomfreak202

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anonymous asked:

Complete this conservation: "So umm.. God, Chuck, whatever. I was just wondering if I can take our son's hand.. if you could get back to me, that'd be cool"

“So, um, God, Chuck, whatever… I was just wondering if I could take your son’s hand… if you could get back to me, that’d be cool.” Dean groans as he hits the ‘end call’ button on his cell phone, rubbing a hand down his face. As if asking your future future Father-in-law for his blessing in marrying his son isn’t stressful enough, *his* Father-in-law happens to be the actual God.

Dean pockets his phone and turns to walk back into the motel room where Castiel and San are waiting for him, but jumps back in surprise as Chuck’s diminutive form suddenly manifests in front of him.

“Jesus Christ!” Dean yelps.

“No, that’s my son, but I appreciate the compliment,” Chuck says with a warm chuckle. “I got your message.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean begins, “I was wondering if-”

“Are you really trying to ask for my blessing over the phone?” Chuck asks, more than a little incredulous. Dean’s mouth opens and shuts comically as he tries to formulate a response.

“I was-”

“Do you find me intimidating, Dean?” He casts a hand down his front. “Because this is possibly the least intimidating vessel I could possibly find.”

“I didn’t want to be put on the spot,” Dean rushes out, because it’s true. “I just wanted to ask and not make a big deal-”

“You know Castiel is not going to appreciate you asking for my permission,” Chuck says seriously.

“I don’t want permission,” Dean replies. “I want your blessing… just your blessing.” He takes a deep breath, finally saying the practiced speech he’d been to afraid to say over the phone. “I just want to know that you think I’m good enough for your son, for someone like Castiel, because I know that… if a screw up like me can be worthy of your blessing that I might have an iota of a shot of being as wonderful to him as he is to me.” Dean exhales heavily as he finishes and there is a tense moment when he thinks Chuck might bring down some sort of heavenly vengeance on him, but instead he just gives Dean a warm smile.

“Dean.” Chuck lays a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a Winchester. In all of Heaven or Earth, I have never met one of my creations more devoted to those they love than you are to Castiel. Of course, you have my blessing.” Dean can’t control the beaming grin spreading across his face or the tears starting to prick at his eyes.

“But if I were you, I still wouldn’t tell Castiel that you asked me before you asked him.”

“Heard and understood,” Dean says with a laugh.

COULDN'T WAIT

Birthday/Liquor Challenge for @winchester-writes

I had #20 Ciroc Vodka and “You couldn’t wait until we got to the door?”

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Reader missed her 21st birthday due to harrowing circumstances thus meeting the Winchesters.  She turns 25 and Dean thinks he’ll show her a good time. 

Originally posted by nyfwofficial

Your 21st birthday was supposed to consist of bar crawls, getting ID’d at every stop, having your sash signed by all the single guys, but no, that year, your parents were brutally murdered by a shifter guised as your best friend and you hadn’t touched a drink “legally” since.  

Dean was going to remedy that situation once and for all.  He knew tomorrow was your 25th birthday and just as it was a milestone in the hunter’s life as well as everyday life, he knew it’d be a blast to watch you drown yourself in alcohol, the light weight that you were.  

“YN, wear something nice, we’re goin’ out to the local bar for your birthday,” Dean popped his head into your room in the bunker, but you didn’t hear him. You had your earbuds in, music as high as it would go, and you were glued to the research in front of you.  Dean rolled his eyes, sighed, and sauntered your way, all bow legs and determination, and flicked an earbud out of one of your ears.

“Jesus Christ, Dean, give me a heart attack why don’t ya?” you slapped him in the chest; quite hard.  You always had a mean streak.

“Damn it, YN, that hurt,” he grimaced, and you pouted,

“Big bad hunter Dean Winchester, hurt by a wee little girl like me?”

“Har har,” Dean smirked, “like I was sayin’ at the door, get dressed, wear something nice, we’re goin’ drinkin’ for your birthday.”

You jumped at the sound of that.  Wear something nice? Right.  Because you either wore ripped jeans, a concert tee, and flannels, or a leather jacket to top off your latest hunting outfit.  Surely you had something stowed away in your closet or hope chest that you could use for this occasion. 

“Give me a half hour,” you pushed him gently toward the door, “I’ve got work to do.”

Dean didn’t know why you even had to take that long; you were gorgeous in jeans torn at the knees and an old punk tee, hair loosely thrown into a bun. Your eyes a mysterious gray with specks of, oh Jesus, what was he thinking? Getting you drunk just to confess how he felt?  He was now catergorized as one of “those pervs”.  No, tonight would be about you, your celebration of birth, and there’d be no moves placed on you, by him.

You managed to find a pair of leather skinnies, a maroon blouse that cris-crossed in the front, exposing just the heft of your breasts, peep toe booties, and minimal makeup, with your eyeliner, catified.  

You left your hair nested in a bun, but curled the strays that weirdos across your face, and straightening your bangs. You smacked your lips as you applied your lipstick and winked, “Damn, I look good for 25,” and that’s when you noticed the huge welt on your bicep from the hunt last night. “Fuck me,” you grabbed your leather jacket and threw it over your blouse, “some things never change.” You excited your bedroom and heard towards the war room to find Dean wearing a dark green button down and worn jeans, his leather jacket swung over his shoulder.

“Fuck me,” you exhaled not quite loud enough for him to hear, but loud enough for Sam to chuckle. “Hush, you behemoth,” you stared him down, and that’s when Dean turned to look at the commotion. He eyed you like a piece of fresh meat, ready to pounce and you got instantly wet.

“You look-Jesus YN you look-” Dean stumbled over his words.

“Hot,” Sam interjected, “stunning, beautiful, gorgeous, any of those will work Dean.”

“Yeah, YN, what Sammy said.”

“Thanks you nerds, now are we getting drunk or what?” You played it cool, you didn’t want the heat in between your legs rising to your cheeks.

The Work Station was busy, bouncing with men and women of all ages, ordering drinks, singing karaoke, making out in corners. You were loving it and as the three of you found a booth in the back, old habits die hard, Sam took orders. One whiskey,one beer, for himself, and for the birthday girl,

“Ciroc, on ice, with a splash of seltzer and a lemon wedge,“ you rattled off at the bemusement of both men.

"What?” You asked incredulously, “Did i stutter?”

“No, uh, not at all, just don’t you think you wanna start off with something less, I don’t know, potent?” Sam suggested.

“Ciroc, Sam,” you winked, “not everyday I get to celebrate my 21st and 25th in the same night!”  You whooped with a fist in the air and connected with Dean’s fist for a bump.

Originally posted by una-dolce-acida

You were having a blast, lost count to how many drinks you had consumed, and you and Dean were flirting non stop.  You had your hand on his thigh, he had his on the small of your back, your lips were close to his ear as you shouted your latest karaoke song, and while Sam was enjoying drunk YN singing and dancing, he wasn’t about to watch his brother and best friend fuck on the leather booth.  He cashed out and took the two of you, clearly inebriated, grabbed the Impala’s keys, to Dean’s chagrin, and drove the two of you back to the bunker.  

The two of you had begun to make out in the backseat like horny teenagers, moans growing louder, hands roaming further under articles of clothing, and Sam slammed on the brakes, breaking the two of you up for seconds.  You both exited the car and headed towards the Bunker’s door, when you felt your world spin, your stomach claw for reprieve, and you tossed your cookies on the front of Sam’s shirt.

“Seriously?” Sam threw his hands in the air in frustration, “You couldn’t wait until we got to the door, could you?”

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand you whimpered an apology and Dean immediately sobered up, holding back your hair, as you retched into the bushes next.

“Ciroc sucks,” you grumbled as Dean hefted you up bridal style and side stepped the vomit and Sam drenched in puke, opened the door, and led you to your bathroom, where he helped you remove your top, peeled off your skin tight leather pants, and left you to pray to the porcelain goddess in your matching bralette and panties.  Dean tended to you all night, grabbed a shitty pillow from storage and a blanket, and kept you on your side, in case you had to be sick again.

Kissing your temple as you fell asleep, mumbling more apologies, about how he probably regretted kissing you in the first place, Dean just chuckled, not imagining how the night ended up.

“Good night, Princess and Happy Birthday,” he placed a blanket over your clammy body, “and I don’t regret a damn thing.”

“But you will in the morning,” he leaned against the tub and shifted closer to your body and kept vigilance over your sleeping body the rest of the night, “no more Ciroc for you, that’s for sure.”

You mumbled an incoherent “uh hm” and shifted into his side.

Tags: @torn-and-frayed @d-s-winchester @hiddenwritingsintheworld @winchester-writes @atc74 @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @jodyri