Chapter Text
You still can’t sleep.
Two months have passed since that night, and rest remains a stranger. Every time you close your eyes, you feel the cold press of the blade against your throat and hear your best friend’s voice- soft, almost loving- as she whispered the final words of the curse that should have killed you.
You never thought the person you trusted most would be the one to mark you for death. But then again, you’d always suspected you were cursed. Turns out you were right.
If Sam and Dean hadn’t shown up when they did, you wouldn’t be lying here at all. They tore through her twisted little murder cult like a pair of avenging angels. Dean had hauled you out of that blood stained basement himself, one arm locked around your waist, muttering, “I got you, sweetheart. Just keep breathing.”
And now you’re here. Wide awake again. Phone warm in your palm, thumb hovering over his contact.
Dean 😝
He’d grinned like an idiot when he typed it in, then immediately sent himself a text from your phone just to “make sure it was real.”
Gotta be careful. Too many spam callers these days. Don’t even know how the bastards get my number.
You can still hear the low rumble of his voice, the way his green eyes had lingered on you a second too long when he handed the phone back. He’d flirted shamelessly the entire time they were in town- half cocky, half genuine- and you’d let him. Because after everything, it felt good to be looked at like you were still a person. Not just a sacrifice.
Your thumb drifts over the message bar.
What the hell are you even supposed to say?
“Hey, remember me? The girl you saved from her psychotic best friend? Can’t sleep, wanna talk?”
Pathetic.
But the silence in your room feels heavier tonight. The kind of eerie feeling that presses on your chest and makes the shadows stretch too long across the walls.
Fuck it.
You open a new message.
You: Hey Dean... it's me, the girl from the basement witch fiasco. Can't sleep. Everything's too quiet and my brain won't shut off. Need a distraction… are you still up?
You hit send before you can overthink it, then immediately regret how vulnerable it sounds. God, why did I say it like that? The phone feels like it's burning a hole in your hand as you stare at the screen.
A few seconds later, the typing bubbles appear.
Dean 😝: Well shit if it isn't my favorite almost sacrifice. 😏 Yeah im up. dont think i ever sleep either, sweetheart what's got you wired tonight? nightmares?
You let out a shaky breath, a small smile tugging at your lips despite everything. His reply is so him- casual, cocky, but there's that underlying care that makes your chest feel a little lighter.
You: Yeah. Same one. Knife, her voice, the whole cursed mess. Keeps looping. Figured texting the guy who dragged me out of there might help. Sorry if I'm bothering you mid hunt or whatever.
Dean 😝: bothering me? fuck no. sams the one snoring like a chainsaw in the motel… im out in baby, just finished cleaning some guns.. perfect timing actually you got me all to yourself
Dean 😝: and hey none of that sorry crap... you went through hell… if texting me keeps the shadows back then message me every damn night
Your thumb hovers, heart beating a little faster. The memory of his arm around you, that low voice in your ear... it’s doing things it probably shouldn’t.
You: You're too smooth for your own good, Winchester. But thanks. Really. Makes the room feel less... haunted.
Dean 😝: smooth? me? never 😉 tell you what… since i cant be there to chase the nightmares off in person how about this… close your eyes and picture me there. id tell ya some bad jokes… have some terrible music playing low probably say something stupid like “want me to sing you a lullaby?" even though we both know id suck at it.
You: God, please don't sing. I'd have new nightmares. 😂 But... yeah. That image helps more than it should.
Dean 😝: good keep that picture in your head… im right there sweetheart... no blade, no cult bullshit… just me making sure nothing touches you again.
The typing bubbles stop for a moment, then start again.
Dean 😝: you wanna talk about it more? or you want me to distract you properly? i got stories... dumb ones... the kind that make Sam roll his eyes so hard he gets a headache
You bite your lip, feeling the tension in your shoulders finally start to ease.
You: Distract me. Please. Tell me the stupidest hunt story you've got right now.
You set the phone on your chest and stare at the ceiling, waiting. The silence doesn’t feel quite as suffocating anymore.
Dean 😝: alright! you asked for it... stupidest hunt of the month.. get this we’re in this tiny town in ohio chasing what we thought was a vengeful spirit... turns out it was a fuckin cursed garden gnome… yeah... a gnome… little ceramic bastard kept coming alive at night and tripping people down stairs
You snort softly, already feeling the knot in your stomach loosen.
Dean 😝: sams over there doing all this research.. latin spells, the whole nine. meanwhile im just trying not to laugh my ass off while this thing is chucking flower pots at my head… one nearly took out babys taillight and i was this close to salt and burning the whole damn garden
You: A garden gnome?? 😂 Okay that’s actually hilarious. Did you end up smashing it with a shovel or something?
Dean 😝: shovel? nah sweetheart I went full rage mode… ended up dropkicking that evil little statue across the yard like a football.. Sam still gives me shit about it says my “technique was questionable.” but whatever it worked
A pause. The typing bubbles appear again.
Dean 😝: you know whats better than a good hunt story? knowing its making you smile right now even if i cant see it
Your cheeks warm. He’s slipping into that flirty tone so naturally, like it’s second nature.
You: It is. Thanks. I needed that. This kinda stuff always suck so bad?
Dean 😝: sometimes? been in the business way too long… seen all kinds of reactions after learning the truth about this world. sometimes people crumble and then theres the badasses that keep going. kinda like you. survived a whole cult and your best friend trying to off you. thats badass… you know that right?
You bite your lip, pulling the blanket higher around you. The compliment hits different coming from him.
You: Badass? I felt pretty helpless in that basement.
Dean 😝: nah. youre still here… breathing... texting me at 2 am thats not helpless thats a survivor... and if im being honest… I havent stopped thinking about you since we left town... that fire in your eyes? even when you were scared shitless? kinda hard to forget
You: Dean… you don’t have to say that.
Dean 😝: im not saying it cause i have to im saying it cause its true. you’ve got me out here in the impala grinning at my phone like an idiot teenager
You: You’re ridiculous.
Dean 😝: ridiculously into you maybe. 😉 but seriously… how you holding up now? the story helping or you need me to keep talking until the sun comes up?
You stare at the last message, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Your mind drifts... the low rumble of his voice from that night, the way his green eyes had locked onto yours when he pulled you out of that nightmare basement. The scent of leather, gun oil, and that stupid cologne he wore. God, he was cocky, reckless, and annoyingly charming. You can almost picture him right now- leaning back in the driver’s seat of that classic Impala, phone in hand, that half smirk on his face.
The memory sends a warm flutter through your chest. You’re so lost in it that you don’t even notice the screen light up with an incoming call.
Dean 😝 is calling...
Your heart jumps. You answer before it can ring twice.
“Hey,” you say softly, your voice a little rough from lack of sleep.
There’s a short pause on the other end, then that familiar deep voice rolls through the line like warm whiskey.
“Hey yourself, sweetheart,” Dean replies, sounding equal parts relieved and amused. “You went quiet on me. Got worried you fell asleep mid text... or that I scared you off with all that flirting.”
You let out a small laugh, pulling your knees up to your chest under the blanket. “No, I just... got distracted. Thinking about everything. About you, actually.”
Dean chuckles softly, the sound rich and genuine. “Yeah? Good kind of distracted, I hope. Not the ‘this guy’s a walking red flag’ kind.”
“The good kind,” you admit, biting your lip. “The kind where I’m remembering how you hauled me out of that basement like it was nothing. And how you looked at me like I wasn’t broken.”
His voice drops a little lower, gentler. “You’re not broken. Not even close. And trust me- I’ve been thinking about you too. More than I probably should, considering Sam’s been giving me side eye for the last two weeks every time I check my phone.”
You smile into the darkness of your room, the tension in your shoulders melting further. “So you decided to call instead of text?”
“Figured if you were up and spiraling, hearing a voice might be better than reading words on a screen,” he says. There’s the faint sound of him shifting in the car seat. “Plus... I wanted to make sure you’re really okay. Not just saying it to make me feel better.”
The line goes quiet for a beat, but it’s comfortable. Dean’s presence feels closer now, even from hundreds of miles away.
“Talk to me,” he murmurs. “I’m right here. No hunts, no rush. Just you and me.”
You settle deeper into your pillows, phone pressed to your ear, his voice already making the room feel warmer.
“Tell me more,” you say softly, almost shy. “Why have you been thinking about me? I mean... really. Not just the ‘you’re a survivor’ stuff. The real reason.”
Dean lets out a low breath, like he’s been waiting for you to ask but still caught off guard. You hear the faint creak of leather as he shifts in the Impala’s seat.
“Damn, sweetheart. Going straight for it, huh?” He chuckles, but there’s a roughness to it now. “Alright. Truth? I’ve been thinking about you every damn night since we left that town. The way you looked at me when I got you out of there- shaking, covered in blood, but still fighting. Still there. Most people would’ve shut down completely. Not you.”
His voice drops, quieter, more intimate.
“And yeah... I noticed you. Really noticed you. Even in that nightmare basement, you were beautiful. The kind of beautiful that hits you in the chest. Those eyes, the way you held yourself together when most would’ve crumbled. I kept telling myself it was just the job… get you safe, move on. But I can’t stop replaying it. The way my hands felt on your waist when I carried you out. How you leaned into me like you trusted me even though you had every reason not to. I’ve been driving around with your face stuck in my head for weeks. Wondering if you’re okay. Wondering what it’d be like to see you again... without all the blood and screaming.”
He pauses, then adds with that signature cocky edge, softened by honesty-
“I’m attracted to you. Like, can’t-focus-on-the-hunt attracted. Sam’s been calling me distracted for days and he’s not wrong. I keep thinking about your voice, your laugh, the way you looked at me when I handed you back your phone. It’s been messing with me.”
Your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it through the line. The vulnerability in his tone makes something tight in your chest finally loosen.
“I’ve been thinking about you too,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper. “A lot. More than I probably should. Every time I close my eyes, it’s not just the nightmare anymore. It’s you. Your arm around me. That stupid grin. The way you called me sweetheart like it was the most natural thing in the world. I keep remembering how safe I felt with you, even in the middle of hell. And yeah... I’m attracted to you too, Dean. The cocky attitude, the way you looked at me like I was the only person in the room. It’s been driving me crazy lying here alone every night.”
There’s a heavy, charged silence on the line for a second.
“Fuck,” Dean breathes, sounding a little stunned and a lot pleased. “You really mean that?”
“Yeah,” you say, smiling despite the flush heating your face. “I do.”
“God, sweetheart... you have no idea what that does to me.” His voice is lower now, rougher around the edges. “I’m sitting here in the middle of nowhere wishing I was there with you right now. Not just to chase away the nightmares. To see that look on your face again. To do a hell of a lot more than talk.”
You swallow hard, heat flooding your face as his words sink in. Your voice comes out smaller than you want it to.
“I… I don’t know what to say to that,” you murmur, shifting restlessly under the sheets. “I’ve never really… done this. Phone stuff. I’m not exactly good at it.”
Dean’s low chuckle sends a shiver down your spine.
“Oh sweetheart, that’s adorable. And kinda hot. Don’t worry. I’m real good at teaching people new things.” His voice drops an octave, smooth and teasing. “Start simple. Tell me what you’re wearing right now.”
You hesitate, fingers twisting in the blanket.
“Just… an old t-shirt. And panties,” you admit softly, embarrassed by how breathy you sound.
“Mmm. Good girl,” Dean praises, and the words hit you low in your stomach. “Bet you look damn cute in that. Bet those legs look even better. You thinking about me touching them?”
Your breath catches. You’re quiet for a second, shy, but the way his voice curls around you makes you brave enough to answer.
“…Yeah. I am.”
“That’s it,” he encourages, warmth and hunger bleeding into his tone. “Keep going. Tell me where you want my hands, baby.”
You bite your lip, heart racing. “I… I want them on my thighs. Sliding up slow. Like you’re teasing me.”
Dean groans softly. “Fuck, yes. I’d take my time with you. Spread those pretty legs and run my hands all the way up until I can feel how wet you’re getting just thinking about me.”
The words make you clench involuntarily. You let out a tiny, embarrassed sound, but you don’t stop him.
“Dean…” you whisper, voice shaky.
“C’mon, sweetheart. I can hear how turned on you are. Don’t hold back on me now.” His voice is rougher, coaxing. “You ever touch yourself thinking about me since that night?”
The question makes your face burn, but the growing ache between your legs wins out. You slip one hand down slowly, hesitating at the waistband of your panties.
“I… maybe once or twice,” you confess, voice barely audible.
“Atta girl. Don’t be shy. Tell me what you did. Were you thinking about my mouth on you?”
You let out a shaky breath, finally giving in as his filthy words pull your shyer side apart.
“Yeah… I was,” you admit, voice gaining a little more confidence. “I imagined you between my legs, licking me until I couldn’t think straight. Your tongue and those stupidly perfect lips…”
Dean lets out a deep, appreciative groan. “Jesus Christ. There she is. Keep talking like that and I’m gonna lose my mind over here. You touching yourself right now?”
Your fingers dip lower, brushing over your damp panties. “Mhm…”
“Tell me how wet you are for me.”
You do, gasping softly as your fingers meet slick heat. “Really wet, Dean… fuck.”
“Good girl,” he growls, clearly getting off on your growing boldness. “Now circle that pretty little clit nice and slow. Pretend it’s my tongue. I’d eat you like I was starving, sweetheart. Bury my face in you until you’re grinding against me and begging.”
A soft moan slips out of you before you can stop it. The shy hesitation is melting fast under his dirty talk.
“Dean… I want your fingers inside me,” you whisper, voice turning filthier as you give in. “While you suck on my clit. I want you to make me come on your face.”
“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he praises, breathing heavier now. “I’d give you two thick fingers right away, curling them just right while I tongue fuck you. You sound so sweet when you moan for me. Let me hear it again.”
You obey, slipping a finger inside yourself with a needy little whimper that turns into a moan.
“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Let me hear those pretty moans. God damn, you sound so needy already,” Dean growls, his voice thick with lust. “I’ve got my fat cock in my fist, stroking it slow and tight just thinking about you. You’re playing with that soaked little pussy for me, aren’t you? Tell me how wet you are, sweetheart. I want details.”
“So fucking wet, Dean…” you whimper.
“Atta girl. I knew you’d be dripping for me. Push two fingers in deep right now- that’s it. Fuck yourself harder. Imagine it’s my thick cock stretching that tight cunt open. I’d split you wide, baby. Pound you so deep you’d feel me for days.”
You obey with a broken moan, pumping your fingers faster.
“Yeah? You like that?” Dean chuckles darkly, the wet rhythmic sound of him jerking his cock getting louder. “Listen to how sloppy your pussy sounds. You’re making such a mess for me. I’d bury my face between those thighs first and eat you like a starving man. I’d suck on that swollen clit until you’re grinding on my tongue and begging. Then I’d flip you over, smack that perfect ass red, and fuck you raw from behind.”
“Dean…” you gasp, legs shaking.
“Fuck yes, say my name just like that. Louder. I want you screaming it when you come. You’d take every inch like a good little whore, wouldn’t you? I’d wrap my hand around your throat, pull your hair, and rail you stupid. You want me to breed that pretty pussy? Want me to pump you full of my cum until it’s leaking down your thighs?”
“Yes- fuck, please,” you beg, completely lost in it.
“That’s my filthy girl,” Dean groans, stroking faster. “God, I’m so fucking hard for you. My cock is throbbing, leaking all over my hand. Keep rubbing that clit, baby. Circle it nice and fast while you finger fuck yourself. I’d fuck you so good, sweetheart. Bent over the hood of the Impala, in the backseat, on every motel bed I can get you on. I’d ruin you for anyone else.”
You cry out, hips bucking wildly into your hand.
“Don’t you dare stop,” he growls. “I’m close already just listening to you. You gonna come on those fingers thinking about my cock? Gonna cream all over them like the dirty slut you are for me?”
“Dean, I’m so close- ”
“Not yet, baby. Hold it. Wait for me,” he orders, voice rough and strained. “I want us coming together. Keep fucking that soaked cunt. Rub that clit harder. Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up so deep. Shoot load after load inside you until you’re overflowing. You’d look so hot with my cum dripping out of you.”
You’re whimpering and moaning shamelessly now, right on the edge.
“Come on, sweetheart. Be a good girl and come for me now,” Dean demands, breathing ragged. “Let me hear it. Come on my cock- right fucking now. I’m stroking so hard for you, gonna blow such a big load thinking about breeding that tight pussy- ”
Your orgasm explodes through you violently. “Dean- fuck- I- fuck!” you cry out, thighs clamping around your hand as you pulse and shake.
“Fuuuuck- yes, baby!” Dean snarls, voice breaking into a deep, guttural groan. “I’m coming too- shit- taking every drop like a good whore- fuuuuck-”
You can hear him stroking through his orgasm, cursing and moaning your name until he’s spent.
“Jesus Christ…” Dean rasps after a long moment, still breathing hard. “That was so fucking hot, sweetheart. You came so hard for me. My dirty girl. I’m already thinking about the next time I get you on the phone… or better yet, in person so I can actually fuck you the way you deserve.”
You’re still trembling from the first orgasm, your body flushed and sensitive, but Dean’s filthy voice keeps pulling you right back under.
“Yes… please come fuck me,” you breathe, already sliding your hand back between your slick thighs. “I want you here so bad, Dean.”
“Fuck, that’s what I like to hear, baby,” Dean groans, voice low and hungry. “Round two. Keep those fingers on that pretty pussy and listen to exactly what I’m gonna do when I show up at your door in two days.”
You let out a soft moan as you start touching yourself again, slower this time, savoring it through your already growing overstimulation.
“First thing I do when I see you?” Dean continues, his tone dark with promise. “I’m backing you straight into the bedroom, stripping you down piece by piece, and laying you out on the bed like my own personal feast. I’m gonna spend a long fucking time between your legs- licking you slow and deep, teasing that clit with the tip of my tongue until you’re dripping down my chin and begging. Then I’m sliding three fingers inside you, curling them just right while I suck on that swollen little nub.”
You whimper, pressing two fingers into yourself as you listen.
“After I make you come all over my face the first time,” he growls, “I’m flipping you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up, and sliding my thick cock into you from behind while you’re still shaking. I’m gonna go slow at first- grinding deep, letting you feel every inch stretching you open. Then I’m picking up the pace until the headboard’s slamming against the wall and you’re moaning like the fucking whore you are.”
“Dean…” you moan, fingers moving faster.
“Yeah, baby. Say my name while you fuck yourself,” he orders, the wet sound of his hand working his cock steady and filthy. “Next, I want you riding me. You’re gonna straddle my lap, sink down on my cock, and bounce on it while I play with your tits and pinch those nipples. I’ll slap your ass and tell you how fucking perfect you look taking every inch of me.”
You gasp, rubbing your clit harder as he keeps going.
“And when I’m close? I’m pinning you on your back, legs wrapped around my waist, and fucking you hard and deep. I’m gonna look you right in the eyes while I fill you up. No pulling out. I’m pumping you full of my cum, sweetheart- again and again. Gonna make such a creamy mess of that pussy you’ll be leaking me for hours.”
His breathing is getting rougher, voice more strained.
“I’m staying at least two full days, baby. I’m fucking you in the shower, on the kitchen counter, bent over the couch- wherever the hell I want. I’ll have you on your knees sucking my cock nice and sloppy before I bend you over and take you again. You’re gonna be sore, marked up, and stuffed full of my cum by the time I’m done with you.”
“Fuck, Dean… I want all of it,” you pant, chasing another high.
“That’s my filthy girl,” he praises with a dark chuckle. “Keep playing with that soaked cunt. I’m stroking this cock so hard thinking about wrecking you. I want you to come again for me while I tell you how I’m gonna own every inch of you when I get there.”
You moan louder, fingers plunging faster as his dirty promises push you closer to the edge.
“Come on, baby,” Dean growls, voice breaking with lust. “Rub that clit and come for me again. Let me hear how bad you need my cock. I’m gonna blow another load thinking about fucking that tight pussy- fuck- come with me, sweetheart. Right fucking now-”
Your second orgasm crashes over you hard, thighs quivering as you cry out his name.
“Fuuuuck- yes, baby!” Dean groans loudly, stroking through his own release. “Take it all- every drop- shit-”
You’re both left panting heavily, the intensity even stronger this time.
“Two days, sweetheart,” Dean rasps, voice rough but warm. “I’m coming for you. Be ready.”
You collapse back against the pillows, body spent and trembling, your fingers still lazily resting between your thighs as you try to catch your breath. Dean’s low, satisfied chuckle rumbles through the phone.
“Damn, sweetheart… two rounds and you still sound so fucking sexy when you come,” he says, voice rough but warm now. “I meant what I said. Two days. I’m heading your way as soon as I wrap up this loose end with Sam. Get some rest. You’re gonna need it.”
You smile, cheeks burning. “Okay… drive safe. And Dean?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Thank you. For distracting me… and for everything else.”
He lets out a soft laugh. “Anytime. Night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.”
The call ends with a quiet click. You lower the phone to your chest, staring up at the dark ceiling, heart still racing.
Holy shit. You can’t believe what just happened. You went from shy and hesitant to straight-up filthy in the span of one phone call. Dean Winchester had completely pulled the dirty side out of you and you loved every second of it. Your body is still buzzing, thighs sticky, pussy aching in the best way. The way he talked to you… the promises he made… it all felt so real. So intense.
You bite your lip, a shy but satisfied smile spreading across your face as you replay his growled dirty talk in your head.
Then your phone buzzes.
Dean 😝 sent a photo
You open it with slightly shaky fingers.
The picture is filthy and unapologetic.
It’s a close up from Dean’s perspective- his toned stomach and lower abs glistening with sweat, his thick cock still half-hard and resting against his thigh, absolutely coated in thick ropes of his cum. Some of it is streaked across his abs, dripping down the defined lines of muscle. His hand is still loosely wrapped around the base, shiny and messy. In the background, you can see the dark interior of the Impala.
Dean 😝: look what you did to me baby.. two loads and im still not soft... cant stop thinking about painting that pretty pussy instead… two days… be ready for me to fill you up for real
Heat floods your face instantly. You stare at the picture, biting your lip hard as a fresh wave of arousal pulses through you. He wasn’t lying when he said his cock was thick.
You: Oh my god, Dean… that’s so fucking hot. You’re covered in it…
Dean 😝: all because of you and those sexy little moans... save that pic sweetheart i want you looking at it when you touch yourself later thinking about me
You squeeze your thighs together, already feeling tempted to go for round three.
You: I’m definitely saving this 😳 It’s going to be hard to sleep after seeing that… but in a good way. Thank you for distracting me tonight. For everything. I feel… lighter. Safer. And really fucking turned on.
Dean 😝: good that was the plan sweetheart… get some sleep… ill be on the road soon. dream about me instead of the bad shit
You: I will. Drive safe, Dean. Goodnight ❤️
Dean 😝: night baby... sweet dreams… cant wait to make the real thing even better
You lock your phone and set it on the nightstand, the glow fading from the room. For the first time in two months, the silence doesn’t feel heavy. The shadows on the walls don’t stretch like reaching hands. Instead, your mind is filled with Dean’s low voice, his filthy promises, that cocky grin, and the warm safety of his arms from that night.
You curl up under the blankets, still feeling the pleasant ache between your legs and the lingering flush on your cheeks. A small, genuine smile plays on your lips as you close your eyes.
No nightmares come.
Just soft, hazy thoughts of leather jackets, green eyes, and the low rumble of an Impala pulling up outside your door in two days. For the first time in forever, you drift off peacefully, the tension in your chest finally eased.
Sleep claims you gently, wrapped in the promise of something new- something good.