Happy Spring Everyone (it’s 84° F Where I’m At🤧)

໑ৎ — thinking about SOLDIER BOY and his little spit–obsessed bunny girlfriend…

warnings: no plot smut, dry humping, daddy kink, use of ‘dad’ once, spit kink, teasing/mocking, lowkey pathetic reader (daddy!soldier boy x bunny!reader) 18+

࿐ ˚ 　· 　　 .

ben’s gone his whole life thinking he’s a sexual deviant, enjoying marking up his partners and taming them all into submission, loving the way he can get just about any woman to call him daddy.

but when he started seeing you, he found himself in new territory—unfamiliar territory.

ben didn’t realise how much he’d been missing out on until he met you. you’re filthy and just so unashamedly needy, unlike any woman he’s ever been with, and he just can’t get enough of it. the way you’re always begging for his fingers in your mouth with wide doe eyes or begging him to fill your mouth with his smokey, whiskey flavoured spit drives him wild. you’re insatiable, and it's like you’re his own personal slice of heaven, letting him use you in any way he pleases.

he loves the way you so shamelessly sit perched upon his lap, bouncing around in front of him, so needy and wanton, with your pretty pleading eyes, round and glimmering with anticipation, like a little puppy in need of attention.

you eagerly grind down onto his lap in just your t-shirt and panties, rubbing your swollen tumescent cunt against his hardened length. your puffy folds spread apart over the thick bulge, desperately searching for friction against his sweatpants. he watches you with a mixture of amusement and need, your filthy fucking antics setting his body on fire.

ben meets your eyes, seeing the way they’re already droopy. “bunny, don’t look at me like that,” he chuckles, the rough sound reverberating in his chest. his hips buck up to meet your movements, and you feel him rubbing the hard line of his cock against your slit. his large hands find your hips, grabbing ahold of them, his fingers digging into the plush skin, helping guide your movements.

your lips purse at his words, and ben rolls his eyes, his face gleaming in amusement at your little pout. he watches you open your mouth and stare right back at him with a childish petulant look on your face—waiting, watching expectantly.

ben’s face morphs into a cruel expression, a smirk that tugs up at his lips, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. a thick wad of his saliva lands on your tongue, filling your mouth with his taste. “swallow. now,” he says, his eyes boring into you. you do as you’re told and swallow, opening your mouth again to show him you’d done what he’d asked. your eyes search his with an eagerness that says, ‘i did it, look at me! tell me i did good!’

ben revels in the needy look you're giving him, so pathetic and desperate; it’s almost laughable, and as much as he wants to kiss you senseless and knock that eager little look off your face by shoving his tongue down your throat, his need to remind you of his power over you wins.

he’s quick to force his fingers into your mouth, his middle and index pressing against your tongue, instead of giving you the praise you’re so obviously yearning for. he ignores the way your face falls momentarily as your brain tries to catch up with the intrusion of his meaty fingers. “suck,” he commands, his voice low, watching as your lips gingerly wrap around his digits. “be a good girl.”

you hum with your mouth stuffed full, and you lap at them with your tongue, soaking up the lingering taste of tobacco smoke on his fingertips. your greedy mouth sucks around his fingers so fervently that drool manages to escape from the corner of your lips, but ben’s keen eye catches it, and he wipes it away with his thumb before bringing it to his lips and cleaning your mess off his finger. “mmm, taste so pretty, bunny,” he croons, his voice a low hum.

your lips pull into a smile around his salty fingers, and your hips continue to meet, rubbing your heat against each other, both of you getting more worked up as your panties grow wetter and wetter. ben’s cock dribbles out precum into his boxers, and the thin material of his sweatpants starts to darken from your arousal, leaving a little wet patch on his lap.

ben’s breathing gets heavier as he watches you engulf his fingers completely, doing just what he asked—submitting to him. the feeling of your tongue swirling around his fingertips sends all his remaining blood rushing south, only making his cock swell more. he slowly pulls his fingers out from the wet warmth of your mouth, his eyes locked on a string of saliva still connected to his fingertip and your lips.

“fuck, baby. such a messy girl,” ben huffs, slightly in adoration, slightly mockingly. his hand moves down to your throat, just resting on the side of your neck, feeling your pulse rapidly beat under his calloused skin. his thumb rubs over the column of your throat, letting his eyes flicker between yours and your mouth.

“daddy,” you whine, “please…”

your petulant little pout and the tone of your voice make ben’s dick twitch between your folds. it’s pathetic, the way he takes you apart so easily. “use your words, bun. c’mon. please what, huh?” he asks, the mockery still laced thick in his tone. his eyes glimmer with mirth and linger on the dribble on your lips and chin. he loves it, seeing you all wet and dishevelled for him. it drives him mad in the best fucking way.

he knows he’s whipped. and he doesn’t even fucking care.

“i want your tongue,” you tilt your head eagerly for him, your eyes searching his, silently pleading for something, anything; just a little gesture of softness, something to quell the burning need that pools in your core.

“oh, yeah? baby wants my tongue? for what?” he taunts, his warm hand giving your neck a squeeze, smirking as a soft noise bubbles up from low in your throat.

“ben—”

“try again,” he cuts you off, correcting you instantly.

“daddy,” you huff out sulkily, “kiss me.”

a calculated grin grows on ben’s lips at your whiny demand, the amusement written all over his face. “kiss you? darlin’, i don’t know if you deserve to be kissed.”

he has to hold back a laugh as he watches your face sullen even more, your sweet features pulled down by the expression. you look silly, your face all contorted and grouchy because he won’t give in, despite the both of you knowing he wants nothing more than to kiss you until you’re breathless.

“c’mon, babygirl. don’t give me that look. you’re too pretty to pout like that.” ben gives your neck another warning squeeze before letting go and gently grabbing your chin instead, tilting your face up to meet his head-on. his eyes fall over your face, analysing you, enjoying the way you reluctantly meet his intense gaze. he hums in thought, brushing his thumb over your pout, as if to soothe it away.

you take the small gesture in good faith and kiss the pad of his thumb softly, before gingerly taking it between your lips. your tongue laps at it with your sulky little puppy dog eyes watching him tentatively, like he’s going to pull away and tell you off. 

but ben lets you suck on his thumb, watching it pacify your needy behaviour. you’re such a damn baby, he thinks.

a groan rumbles up from deep in his chest, like you’ve yanked it straight from his lungs with your sweet ministrations. your droopy eyes stay locked on his in the most filthily deplorable way—like a little puppy begging for attention, sucking up to its owner in hopes of a treat. it’s so pathetic and pitiful, but it’s just how ben likes his women.

your tongue circles his thumb, teasingly so, like you're offering a show of what you can give him if he’d just play nice. a shameless moan escapes past your lips, hurling straight into his ears and landing down in his core. you feel ben twitch against your weeping heat again, the desire growing rampant between you.

“yeah, good girl. just like that. my sweet little slut knows just what to do, doesn’t she?” ben coos tauntingly, letting the smooth words fall from his mouth.

the friction from your grinding slowly builds a pressure in your lower stomach; a fiery heat simmers from your clit rubbing against him, your slick entrance squeezing around nothing. ben feels your pretty little cunt fluttering for him, and he huffs; he knows just how to get you open and ready to take his chubby cock.

the tension keeps growing between you, and so does the friction, as you salaciously suck his thumb, like it’s a pacifier or dummy, keeping your mouth busy instead of whining like he knows you’d be doing otherwise. your wide pleading eyes beg for more as you let drool spill from your mouth. his blown-out green eyes follow the spit, and he so badly wants to clean it up with his tongue, but he doesn’t. you’re such a needy little fucking tease, and yet, he refuses to give in to you.

when ben pulls his hand back, another petulant pout grows on your lips again. he tuts his tongue against his teeth. “be good, bunny, and maybe you’ll get that kiss, yeah?”

you huff in response and whine. “i am good,” you try to argue back, dying for his thumb back or tongue—hell, anything—to pacify your damn oral fixation.

ben lets out a hearty chuckle at your whinging, his eyes locked on your tongue licking up the stray saliva spilt around your swollen lips. “bun, you’re a tease. a brat who just can’t help herself. you’re lucky i think you’re so goddamn pretty, ‘specially with those twinkling cocksucking eyes of yours, sweets.”

your eyes light up at his foul words, and the pout on your lips dissipates a little, morphing into a small strange sheepish smile. ben watches the way you react, and he decides to let up a smidge, “alright, fine. c’mere. give daddy a kiss. a proper one. none of that goldfish peckin’ bullshit. i've taught you better.”

his words go over your head; you’re too in a state to care. you’re quick to attach your lips to his, parting them to allow his tongue to tangle with yours, letting him lead the dance in your mouth. your body continues to move itself, grinding your soaked cunt even harder into his lap. his sloppy kisses and the way he leads the kiss so dominantly send sparks flying throughout your body, making your pretty little clit twitch in your drenched underwear. you moan carnally into his mouth, not caring at how your attitude has faded into sheer desperation or how smug you know it’s making him.

ben rolls his hips up into yours firmer, his sensitive length nudging apart your pussy lips completely, rubbing against you in the most heavenly way. he takes over, one hand scrunched in your hair, the other on your hip, guiding you to hump his erection like the sweet bunny you are.

and so you roll your hips, meeting his, and your mind clouds over entirely, your whinging little girl act completely placated by ben and his thick fucking cock pressing against you. he grunts, feeling all self-satisfied, at how easily he’s managed to dismantle you—and your pitiful fucking attitude—just by kissing you and rubbing your clit a little.

you whine into the kiss, hastily humping your hips into ben’s. he doesn’t call you bunny for nothing. your body shivers as the coil tightens in your stomach, your needy cunt twitching and tightening around nothing, weeping into your panties, begging to be stretched out by the supe’s stupendous girthy length.

you’re so goddamn reactive to him; he feels your arousal drenching his sweatpants further, the same way your spit drools out of your attached mouths, coating the bottom half of your faces. you're a mess, and you just can’t help it.

he breaks the kiss, earning a grunt from you in protest as you chase his lips.

“mmm… bun, no,” he pulls his head back, panting slightly. “be a good girl. c’mon, make yourself cum on daddy’s lap. let dad see how good it feels, yeah?”

his vulgar words of mock encouragement send chills right down to your puffy little cunt. you rub yourself against him faster and faster, curling your fingers into his shoulders to keep yourself upright. the pleasure builds in your core; you’re so close to toppling over the edge. your jaw hangs open while your sweet noises bubble up your throat, and ben can’t help but think how adorable you are, how desperate and cockdrunk you look, and you’re not even bouncing on it like a good little bunny yet. you’re just such a good girl—exactly what a rough boorish man like him needs.

ben brings his hand to your throat again, though roughly gripping at it this time, like he’s helping squeeze out your sweet melodic sounds of pleasure. “yeah, bunny. look at you. s’that feel good, baby? rubbing on daddy like that?” he coos, the mockery still blatantly dripping from his tone.

his mean taunting words make your pretty cunt flutter. he tightens his grip around your neck, stifling your breath slightly, making your mewls sound choked and weak. your nails dig into his shoulders as you grind, and you wonder how he’s not losing composure the same way you are. you slowly nod in response to his question, like a good little doll, and try to meet his eyes through your heavy-lidded ones.

“yeah? c’mon, babygirl. show daddy what a sweet girl you are for me. cum, bunny, cum.”

he talks down to you like an owner speaks to their dog, but somehow, that does it for you and your cockdrunk hazy brain. a wave of pleasure crashes over you; your pussy clenches and twitches as you ride out your high, still humping his lap. what a good little bunny. your tired thigh muscles spasm, exhausted from the overexertion.

your sweet sighs of pleasure are music to ben’s ears. his dick twitches underneath you, completely soaked by your arousal and juices from your orgasm, drenching through his sweats and boxers, and his dick threatens to spill right there into his pants at the sight and feel of you coming undone, but he keeps himself from letting go just yet.

“there you go. jesus, that never gets old, does it? look at you, bunny. such a good girl for daddy. makin’ a mess on my fuckin’ pants, aye?” he laughs, watching your flushed face scrunch in ecstasy.

your twitching hips finally come to a still against his. you settle in the warm wetness of his lap, and the friction of your underwear against your sensitive clit makes you squeak. ben grins as the sound hits his ears, and he squeezes your neck, forcing more pretty sounds from you.

he seizes the opportunity and spits a wad of saliva into your agape mouth. it lands perfectly on your tongue, blessing your tastebuds with his sweet and smokey taste, and it's so disrespectful, but it still manages to make your eyes roll back into your head, which makes ben huff out a laugh, the sound low and winded.

“you with me, toots?” he asks, gently smacking your cheek with his free hand, ridiculing you for your lack of cognisance. “was just a little orgasm, doll. don’t be all pathetic now.”

“daddy,” you whine out, your voice hoarse from panting in and out of your open mouth. your rounded eyes blink up at him as his saliva spills out the side of your mouth before you manage to swallow it, still entirely too hazy to really fathom what he’s saying.

ben tuts at you. “wasting my spit again, bun? you know i don’t like that,” he huffs out, still slightly winded, and grips your throat harder, earning another surprised squeak from you.

you shake your head, meeting his eyes with your own blown-out droopy ones. “no, m’sorry. please give me more.”

ben narrows his eyes at you, weighing up his options in his head, but ultimately he decides you’ve been good enough, doing what he says and doing it obediently, and it makes him proud—he’s trained you well.

“open then, sweetheart,” he finally says, his gaze falling over your face and your swollen mouth.

your lips part instantly, and another glob of spit lands on your tongue. you roll it around in your mouth for him to see before you swallow, keeping your eyes locked on him. he feels the movement of your throat under his palm.

“atta girl, swallowing like that for daddy. my pretty bunny,” ben murmurs with his thick gravelly tone. a smirk spreads across his face as he pulls yours towards him, the motion rough and unforgiving. “my good little pet, yeah? you’re my good girl, always doing what i say. fuckin’ good little thing, you are. you know how to make your old man proud.”

fig yaps: is this weird? idk!!!! do i hate this? a lot!!!!!! not my finest work but i said i’d post it so here we are !! anyways girls with an oral fixation and a daddy kink stand up!!! this is 4 u! soldier boy + dry humping will forever be my go-to !!!!!!!

feedback and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated ofc! thank u!

⟡ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @jensenacklesballsack @minettacreekk @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @daylighted @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @starzify @littlesoulshine @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @freeluigihesbae @bejeweledinterludes @blossomingorchids @lanasgirlfr @seven7lee @nymphet-quenn @rafessweetgirl @maeji-may @eternalssunshinee @blossomingorchids @benscumgluzzer @soldiersgirl @arcannaa @gibson-g1rl @vmiina @h8aaz + the rest in the comments sorry!

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the tragedy of tumblr is you will inevitably meet people who you should be having a sleepover with. you should be rolling around on their floor and rummaging through their fridge and watching shitty movies with. you should be shopping with should be going out to a cafe with should be wandering through the aquarium with. people who you should be experiencing quotidian joys with... and you cannot! because they live one million miles away

dean winchester would’ve had nipple piercings if john hadn’t raised him to be so scared of self-expression tbh

all i want in life is to lay my head on soldier boys lap as he carefully strokes my hair as i yap about my day as he just grunts, trying to act all hard and tough

but secretly he's smiling because he loves quality time and enjoys the mundanity of life more than he cares to admit

Ten Years Gone {d.w.}

2. The Passenger

Warning: none

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: Any and all feedback is welcome! Please hit up my inbox, I love yapping! She’s a slow burn type of story, on purpose? Maybe. I have so many things I want to do with Dean and Novena. Happy reading :)

Novena was shivering as she was walking back to her house, she really wished that she could afford to fix her car after what Vince had done to it. The tires slashed, side mirrors broken, dents all over, and he had cut her brake line. Usually she’s good at reading people from the jump, but with Vince there was always something that seemed to cloud her judgement. And with her dad passing–paying for the funeral expenses put a hole in her wallet that’s been difficult to come back from. 

The weight of the world was really crashing into her lately. The pain was unbearable at times, so much so that she was having nightmares that would leave her gasping for air. The only person left in her life who really knew who she was, what she was, is gone. Hot tears rolled down her face, the cold wind made sure to sting her cheeks; Novena didn’t bother wiping away her sadness. 

She had another ten minutes of freezing her ass off before she was able to wrap herself in her thick comforter. There was a car coming up from behind her, and a sweet familiar purr radiated from it. That car was at the bar when she left, it could only be one of two people… While she wasn’t necessarily scared of the guy who tried to hit on her, it wouldn’t be pleasant interacting with him again. The person who was driving slowed to a stop and rolled down the window.

“You need a ride, stranger?” Dean shouted from across the road.

Novena’s shoulders eased their way down to a neutral position, grateful that she wouldn’t need to defend herself. Swiftly making her way over to the pristine jet black Impala, she leaned down to meet his gaze. 

“I thought you were that asshat for a second.” Dabbing her nose between saying, “I’d love a ride home, it’s wicked numb out here.”

“That’s almost an insult, you thinking that he’d have a nice Baby like this.” Dean had a serious look on his face while he patted his steering wheel, but then it turned into this adorable grin, one that warmed Novena to her core. He has such a charming smile, nice straight teeth with pointy canines, and his smile actually seemed to reach his eyes this time. “You getting in or not, crazy girl?”

“Yes, yeah. Thank you!” A chuckle escaped from Dean’s mouth—it met her ears while she was running to the other side of the car. He reached over the passenger seat to open the door for her, and she quickly plopped herself onto the seat and shut the door. 

“Where are we headed?”

“You’ll take this road all the way down pretty much. House number is 44, on the left. I’ll let you know when we’re close.”

“Sounds good.”

The pair sat in silence. The rumbling of the Impala and the way it smelled like gasoline and faintly of apple pie, was comforting. Instrumentals of an old rock song filled the air. Then, out of nowhere, she became extremely aware of her surroundings. Time seemed to stop. 

When she moved her head to look at Dean, it felt like her neck was being weighed down by an invisible force. This sequence of events feels so vivid, so unmistakable from one of her dreams she had months ago. The way his hand was lightly cradling the wheel and how he slumped in the seat so casually, the song she wished she could remember, and the feeling of affinity for a man she doesn't know. Only she couldn’t see the man's face in her dream. Deja Vu. 

With her illusions fading, she snaps back to reality. “You never told me why you were in town. What brings you here, Dean?”

His eyebrows twitched with sadness and careful consideration, his grip on the wheel tightened, and he readjusted himself in his seat. Dean didn’t know if he wanted to tell the truth to Novena or not, since it was so easy to unwind in her presence. He still can’t believe that that actually happened, it was so unnatural for him to act that way. To feel his emotions. In public. A white lie couldn’t hurt her, right?

“I’m here for work, just got in tonight actually.”

“And what do you do for work?”

Dean looks over to her wondering eyes and smirks, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

She bites back, “Try me.”

“Alright, feisty pants. If you want to know so badly, I work for the government—if I say much else I might have to kill you.”

“Like the CIA or FBI or something?” She asks, squinting her eyes at his sarcasm.

“Yeah…or something.” He says, winking at Novena.

“Here, this house on the left.” She jerks her body towards her home as she points to it. 

Good, she’s distracted. Dean lets out a silent sigh of relief.

They arrive at an older house, and it has to be more than sixty years old. It’s a huge Victorian style place with a sunroom patio that wraps around the whole extend. The paint was a worn out, pale yellow with chips everywhere. Dean bet that this house in its prime would have looked so inviting, so homey. The driveway that led along the side of the house was snowed in so he parked on the street. Her porch light wasn’t on and the street lamps sucked. 

Dean thought to himself, Damn, she lives alone? Here? Everything about this place screams sketchy. 

Maybe he’s reading too much into it, it’s dark and he’s exhausted, but not enough to offer to walk her to her door. He wanted to make sure that he watched her go inside safely. She insisted that she was fine to walk the short distance, but Dean didn’t take no for an answer.

“Novena, I’m walking you up there. C’mon.”

“You seem apprehensive, Dean. Like something is gunna come outta the woods behind my house and attack me…”

He cocked his head towards the porch, “You can never be too careful.”

Amusement escaped her mouth. He really was serious because the look that he gave her was so intense that she thought his eyes would cut right through her. His sharp glance softened then concern washed over him briefly before looking away, scoping out her yard. The smile slowly faded from her face at Dean’s change in behavior. 

“Thank you, for walking me to my door like a gentleman. You really didn’t have to. Nothing bad ever happens in this town.” She pauses as a shiver runs through her. Rubbing her hands together, she assures, “I’m safe—if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“Why would someone in my position be here if it was safe?” All of a sudden, her porch light flickers on. Weird. How did it—? That’s when he saw a glimpse of worry in her eyes, fuck. Purgatory had made him too hard, too blunt. 

“Look, I didn’t mean to scare you. If you need anything,” he reached into his jacket pocket, “here’s my number. Feel free to call me anytime.”

“Uh, on your card it says detective R. Plant? Like, Robert Plant from Led Zeppelin…?” She stares into his eyes before confirming, “Are you the scary thing in the woods I should be frightened of?” 

Shit. He totally forgot that those cards had one of his aliases on it. What an idiot. 

If Sammy were here he’d have a perfectly good explanation to cover his ass. Dean laughs nervously, fidgeting with his ring not knowing what to say. “Yeah, uh, I’m supposed to be undercover and I gave you my real name at the bar... Trust me, I am not the big bad wolf.” 

A strained smile found its way across Dean's face. Anxiety washes over him and before he knows it he blurts out, “If anything, I’m more of the little piggy that went to the market.”

Fuck! What was he saying? That doesn’t even make sense! He pressed his fingers to the corners of his eyes and shook his head in embarrassment.

The sweetest giggle came from Novena. Again, she laid her hand on the side of his face. Her hand was so cold, yet so alluring. Like the air around them, time seemed to be frozen, and again, so was Dean. He yielded so effortlessly to her touch; his mouth slightly ajar, losing himself within her gaze.

Novena pulled away and bid him a good-night then walked into her house. 

Her touch lingered on his skin. Dean wanted to chase after her. To knock on her door just to look at her before he left—there was this pull to her that he couldn’t describe even if he wanted to. He hasn’t been touched by a woman in so long that he almost forgot what it felt like. Almost forgot how gentle and loving someone could be…

A light came on somewhere in the front of the house, and a thunderous bark jolted Dean out of his trance. He definitely wasn’t sticking around for Novena to find out that he was still on her porch. And that dog sent a chill up his spine. The weight of the bark almost felt like it was meant for him. A warning.

You’re so pathetic. Get yourself together man, he thought to himself.

Dean made his way back to Baby, and headed for the 24 hour motel he saw when he entered town.

—

He didn’t sleep well on that poor excuse of a bed. Even when he had to sleep on the ground, that’d been more comfortable than that thing. The pounding in his head would not go away, no matter how many cups of coffee he had. Regretting the amount of liquor he had the night before.

There was a lead in the neighboring town concerning Kevin. Garth had called and said that there was demon activity, and people going missing from all over the state. Dean had already checked out the four other towns to see what information he could gather. 

All victims had disappeared out of the blue. There wasn’t much to go off of, and it was looking like the beginning of a dead end. He forgot how draining it was to be doing all the work by himself. Driving everywhere, talking to everyone, doing research on his own. The time it took to work a job doubled. Hell, it felt like it tripled. 

Going to the vic’s parents house wasn’t any help either. The mom was a total mess, who couldn’t answer a single goddamn question. It was like talking to a brick wall, and it made Dean want to smash his face into one. Instead, he chose to take it out on Garth.

“Man, I got bupkis. Are you sure this has something to do with Kevin?”

“Dean, you gotta trust me. There’s definitely something goin’ on up there. Would daddy Garth steer you wrong?”

“First of all, don’t ever call yourself that again. Second, I think you’re wrong about this one. Doesn’t seem plausible enough to be Crowley. It’s only men—”

“I have’tuh jet, got a call on another line.”

“But—” Then the call dropped. 

Even more frustrated than before, Dean slammed the car door shut. Immediately apologized to Baby for the aggression. He took a second to collect himself. To figure out a game plan. He wasn’t sure that it was the King of Hell’s minions at work.

—

He had combed through records for hours at the local library. He might have found something, but it definitely wasn’t demon related. Garth fucked up and Dean was going to make sure he knew about it.

The sun was setting behind the grey clouds, and there seemed to be no end to the snowfall. The library was warm and sleep consumed Dean. Light snoring filled the silence and drool was pooling on his jacket. He was so far gone, that he didn’t feel that someone was tapping on him to wake him up.

Then something slammed on the table with a loud thud.

Dean bolted up, pulling an arm up with his hand in a fist, while the other reached for his gun. Looking up at the son of a bitch who alarmed him.

Novena smiled down at him, “Fancy seeing you here, Flatlander.”

“Flat-wha–?” Dean looked down at his wet jacket sleeve, and quickly wiped his face with the arm that was close to punching her. “You shouldn’t scare a man like that. I could’ve…”

“Settle down. You wouldn’t hurt me, tough guy.” She picked her books up and shoved them in her purse. While tucking her hair behind her ear, she gave Dean puppy eyes and said, “Mind giving me a ride?”

He nods, “You’re lucky I’m tired sweetie, otherwise those needy eyes of yours would be useless.” He groans as he stands up, “Might have to start charging you for gas, I ain’t no Uber.”

“You’re such a liar.” You’d do anything for me. She thought.

“Don’t push me. Let’s go.”

—

tags! @ambiguous-avery @deans-spinster-witch @aylacavebear @jackles010378

If I forgot to tag anyone please come at me, I have a horrible memory. I hope this part is good, I've been going through it irl lol. And please come at me if this is absolute dog water <3

A lot of the girls on here really need a huge, huge comforting hug from a man with big arms & it's evident more and more each day

How many Supernatural fans are there on Tumblr?

You are only allowed to reblog this ONCE. Any more than once and this is completely ruined. 

Reblog if you’re a Supernatural fan so we can see how many of us there are out there!

I’m bored and nosy. Please reblog this with the book you’re currently reading.

Love that Dean Winchester is trending🥹

oh god...