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eddiemunsonistheloml · 3 days ago

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december *⁀➷ dean winchester

✧.* dean x cupid!reader — part 3!!

— it's christmas tiiiime, and now dean is getting bossed around by his cupid to prepare the bunker for the holiday. he's totally loving it, just don't tell anyone. cw! fluff! fluff! holiday fluff and wait—you do what under a mistletoe? heated kissing, strong language, 18+ wc! 6.3k masterlist for previous parts

You’re sitting crisscrossed on the living room floor, barely a foot away from the TV, eyes glued to the screen.

Dean had left early in the morning for supplies, leaving you to follow Sam around the bunker like a shadow. You peppered him with endless questions about hunting, lore books, and the monsters they hunted until his patience started to fray. A tough feat with the ever sympathetic Sam, but somehow you keep managing to push that boundary with both the Winchesters. When the topic turned to his love life—your innocent curiosity fully unhinged—Sam had finally cracked. To remedy the situation, he popped in a DVD, and it only took a few seconds for you to become completely absorbed into the grinch who stole christmas.

The sound of the bunker door opening and slamming shut breaks the movie’s spell for a moment. Dean’s heavy boots clamber down the stairs as he grumbles, “Unbelievable. Two other mouths this food is feedin’ and not a single hand to help unload the car.”

You don’t budge, the movie is far more compelling than whatever Dean’s annoyed about. What did not go unnoticed by the disgruntled man was your attention being on the screen, instead of on him. None of your usual circling around him asking what he got at the store like you usually do. The thought buzzed around in his brain as he put the groceries away. A pesky little feeling of wanting your attention setting him on edge. He couldn’t even help himself, peeking out of the kitchen a few times to look back at your hypnotized form.

The vibrant hues of the screen reflected in your pupils as you watched each grumpy humph and retort from the Grinch. You found the oddly green and fluffy thing endearing, his antics making you think of another huffing, grumbling, dramatic man.

Suddenly, a soft brown teddy bear appears in your line of sight. The stuffed animal disrupts your viewing, staring back at you with shiny black eyes and a stitched-in smile. You blink, eyes trailing up the arm holding it. Dean towers over you, wearing his usual grumpy scowl—an expression that contrasts so sharply with the stuffed bear in his hand that you almost laugh.

“Here,” he gruffs, shaking the bear slightly. “You wouldn’t shut up about wanting one on our last hunt, and the store had some, so…”

Your brows knit in confusion, raking your brain until you remember the bears at the gala. Cute and just begging for you to take home. Too much action of the night led to you leaving without a new plush friend, and you did bring it up to Dean at least once. Maybe twice, four or five times at most.

Realizing Dean was actually listening to your spiels—despite his expressions making you think otherwise—makes your face light up with a radiant smile. You take the bear gingerly, cradling it like something precious. It’s plump, soft, and better than the ones at the gala. Settling it into your lap, you resume your movie watching, tucking the bear snugly as if it’s watching the film with you.

Dean’s frown softens—just a little—as he watches.

You lift a finger to point at the screen, peering up at him with furrowed brows. “Dean, this movie says Christmas is a holiday in December. It’s December now, but you and Sam haven’t said anything about this Christmas stuff.”

Dean shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the room like he’s hunting for an escape route. “It’s… made up,” he shrugs. “Not a real holiday.”

“Oh,” you murmur, frown tugging at your lips as you look back at the TV. Holidays are becoming one of your favorite things these days. You were aloofly aware that humans had traditions, but there were so many over the course of human history that you never bothered to keep track. Now that the Winchesters have clued you in on some of these celebrations, you find it hard to believe the boys can be so lax about participating. And although you try your damn hardest not to be overly excited over learning new things, the joy that holidays brought you was a Pandora's box you’ve decided to leave cracked open.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice cuts through the air as he walks into the room, a deep sigh trailing behind him. “Why are you lying to her about Christmas?”

“Lying?” You whip your head between the brothers, wide-eyed.

Sam shoots Dean a look—one that says fix it—while Dean smiles coolly back, clearly unbothered.

“I’m not—” Dean starts, but Sam raises a brow. Dean groans, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Okay, fine. I lied. But we’re not—”

“We have to prepare!” you shout, leaping to your feet. Screw containing excitement. The movie showed you the wonderful intensity of this Christmas thing, and you’d be damned if you let Dean grumble his way out of this one.

The teddy bear tumbles to the floor, forgotten for the moment. “We need a tree, and presents, and cookies, and sweaters!” You list, recounting from the film. Your gaze falls back to the bear, and you scoop it up quickly, holding it close. Your eyes sparkle as you coo, “Grumpy Bear needs a sweater, too.”

Dean freezes. “Grumpy Bear?”

Sam’s brow furrows. “Wait—Grumpy Bear?”

“Uh-huh,” You nod eagerly, trying not to laugh at your own joke and ruin it. Jokes were hard and you’re still getting the hang of them. “I named him after Dean.”

Dean groans, pinching the bridge of his nose as Sam fails to stifle his chuckle. “You’re killin’ me, lovebird,” Dean mutters under his breath.

“Alright, then,” Sam interjects, clapping his hands together before pointing at you and Dean, “you two go out and get us a tree and what-not. I’ll stay here and get the bunker ready.” He’s sporting a smug grin, clearly satisfied with his swift evasion of having to do any of the brunt work.

“What? Dude—no.” Dean shoots back, his head tilting as he sighs.

“That’s a perfect plan, Sam!” you chirp back, placing Grumpy Bear on the couch. You don’t give Dean the chance to protest further, darting to grab your shoes and jacket while the brothers bicker in the living room.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The Impala hums steadily along the snowy road, but your focus is on the radio’s dial. Before you left the bunker, Sam had pulled you aside, helpfully informing you of the radio stations that play nonstop festive music this time of year. You memorized his quick instructions: Just turn the right dial, he’d said, until the static gives way to something jolly and christmas-y.

So far, though, all you’ve found is static—and the longer it drags on, the more Dean radiates a particular brand of agitation that’s starting to fill the car.

“Love,” he finally says, his voice tight with thinly veiled annoyance, “what are you doing?”

“Hang on, I just have to find—” You twist the dial a little more, and finally, success. The opening notes of have a holly jolly christmas crackle through the speakers, soft and cheerful. Satisfaction pools through you at the sound. A stark contrast to the usual sounds coming from the impala’s speakers: loud, crashing instruments with throaty vocals and a single song lasts for what feels like forever. Classic rock, he once told you, nothin’s better than the classics.

Dean groans like you’ve just personally offended him and immediately reaches over to change the station, but you’re faster. You swat his hand away with a firm pout.

“No way, Grinch.” You shake your head, crossing your arms triumphantly. “It’s Christmas time, and we’re getting into the spirit.”

Dean’s eyes flick between you and the road, and though his expression starts off sour, you can see the amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. Sam had warned you this would happen. He’d even told you exactly what to say when Dean inevitably tried to kill the Christmas cheer: Just say something about getting into the Christmas spirit, and be firm, Cupid. You know how he gets.

“Grinch, huh?” Dean mutters, throwing you a sidelong glance. “Alright, fine. I’ll let it slide this one time. But for the record,” his finger goes up in protest, “I am not the Grinch.”

“Oh, no?” You grin, eyes playfully scowling at him. “Mean, grumpy guy up on the mountain gets all gushy when someone’s nice to him for once? Sounds like someone I might know.”

Dean huffs out a laugh, finally giving in to the playful banter. “Grumpy, mean—fine. But I do not do gushy.”

Hearing his laugh makes your heart flutter, the sound feeling like a trophy when he’s usually at his wit ends with you. Dean was in general a pessimistic guy, that much you’ve noticed. And he was mean when he first met you, and wrongly assumed you’d be an annoying mouthpiece from heaven. But in the months you’ve spent following him around, you’ve started to figure out how to make that scowl melt into a big smile.

It was hit or miss most of the time, but you always were a bit of a boundary pusher.

“You do, too.” you press mockingly.

“Uh-huh,” he breathes, brows quirking, “Is that so? Well if I’m the grinch that makes you, what—my Cindy Lou Who?” His face squints with his words.

“Exactly,” you chirp, practically glowing with pride. Without thinking, you reach over, placing a small hand on his chest. “And I’m gonna make sure that heart grows three sizes, Winchester.”

Dean’s eyes flicker between you and your hand. His mouth twitching into a lopsided smile as he shakes his head. “I bet you will, lovebird,” he murmurs, voice softer now as you retract into your seat and he focuses on the road again. “I bet you will.”

The playful warmth lingers as the Impala rolls on, the car filling with soft holiday tunes and the quiet hum of the engine. You nod along to the music, sneaking glances at Dean as he drums his fingers against the wheel in time with the song.

The scenery outside begins to shift, and Dean slows the car, turning onto a gravel driveway. The worn out sign on the left side gate at the entrance reads, The Ginger Family Farm – Christmas Trees & Reindeer!

Your gaze sharpens as you sit up straighter, a large red barn sits on the hill, surrounded by neat lines of snowy pine trees. It’s an old and faded structure, but the chimney bellows smoke and the doors are propped open. From this distance all you can see are the twinkling lights inside and movement from the people within. But it’s the pasture near the entrance that really catches your attention. A herd of reindeer grazes lazily by a fence, their soft brown fur gleaming in the afternoon sun. Another faded sign beside them reads: Santa’s Helpers Live Here!

Dean hasn’t even fully parked when you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over him, climbing into his lap to get a better look out of his window.

“Dean,” you whisper, eyes alight with wonder as your nose grazes against the glass, “are those… reindeer?”

He glances down at you, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Yep,” he replies, reaching over your frame to throw the car into park.

“They’re real?” you ask, turning to him with wide eyes, equal parts skeptical and fascinated. “I mean, I knew they were real, but I didn’t think I’d ever actually see them.”

Dean chuckles as he pops his door open, an arm going around your waist to stop you from tumbling out of the open door. “Real enough. But don’t get your hopes up—they don’t fly.”

You slide out after him, giving him a mildly exasperated look. “I know they don’t fly, Dean. Our universe has exactly three beings with wings: birds, bugs and angels. That much I am sure of.”

Dean snorts, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he watches you drift toward the fence, your curiosity written all over your face. The way your head starts to tilt, lips popping open as your eyes start to squint. Dean has witnessed this look more than a handful of times now, and it still has that same damn effect of making him want to watch you explore new things all day.

But it also makes his heart twist and strain as the pounding reverberates throughout his entire body. The kind of thing he does not want to think deeper about. You’re just cute, that’s all, and what kind of monster would say no to something so, damn, cute?

“You wanna go say hi?” Dean calls after you, his voice light and teasing.

You glance back at him, a shy smile finding your lips. “I can do that?”

“Sure, bet there’s some kid over there feeding them carrots. You can be next in line.” He teases.

The teasing goes over your head, as all you really heard was Dean agreeing to something. Without hesitation, you grab his hand, tugging him toward the pasture. “Fine by me, but you’re feeding them. I don’t do well with teeth.” you shutter.

Dean raises his brows, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. He tucks that comment away for later, adding it to the growing list of your quirks that simultaneously baffle and charm him. But you’re tugging him across the snowy field, all bright-eyed and—oh god—giggly, you’re giggling. He can’t bring himself to stop you.

And if his hand stays wrapped in yours a little longer than necessary—warm and steady against the cold air—well, that’s between him and his not-so-Grinch-sized heart.

As you approach the pasture, the reindeer lift their heads, their large, black eyes blinking lazily in your direction. One of them—a particularly curious-looking one with a slightly crooked antler—takes a few cautious steps closer to the fence.

You freeze mid-step, tucking yourself closer to Dean. “It’s coming over here,” you hiss, half-whisper, half-excited gasp. You weren’t used to animals of this size, a nervousness you’re still getting used to feeling creeps up your spine. With your hand still intertwined in his, you use your free hand to clutch his arm and merely peek at the animal from the safety of Dean’s side.

“Yeah, that’s kind of the idea,” Dean replies, deadpan, though the grin tugging at his lips betrays his amusement.

The reindeer stops a few feet away, eyeing you both with what you can only describe as mild suspicion. You tighten your grip on Dean’s hand and arm, big eyes peering up at him expectantly as you nudge him forward slightly. “Okay, go on, you first.”

Dean snorts, stepping forward to the fence. “It’s a reindeer, not a beast. Relax.” He leaves your side, the winter air hitting him a little harder without your warmth pressed against his side. Leaning against the wooden fence, he holds out a tentative hand like he’s done this a thousand times before.

To your surprise, the reindeer moves closer, sniffing at his fingers. You watch, wide-eyed, as it nudges Dean’s palm with its fuzzy pink nose.

“See? Not so bad,” Dean coos, glancing back at you with an infuriatingly smug expression.

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Sure, you’re the reindeer whisperer. But if I try that, it’s probably gonna bite me.”

“Doesn’t even have teeth to bite with,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

“You’re lying again, aren’t you?” you mutter, eyes sizing into slits from suspicion. Dean shrugs, but the smirk on his face instills your weariness.

Hesitantly, you shuffle closer. Keeping close to Dean, so that most of his body is between you and the animal, you tentatively reach out. Dean’s large hands contrast yours when they’re side by side like this, and he impatiently moves yours to touch the curious snout.

A quiet, nervous gasp escapes you, but the reindeer only leans into your touch. It’s nose is soft and velvety. The feel of it momentarily puts out your nervous flames. Dean gently maneuvers you in front of him to give you ample space for petting, leaning down to your ear he speaks softly, “There you go, little angel. Just be gentle, alright? Don’t wanna spook ‘em.”

The words spook ‘em makes you jump back, but there’s little space to move with Dean being so close. Making you become a stumbling mess between him and the fence. Your harsh movements scares the reindeer, as the nimble animal darts back to it’s herd. Leaving you huffing with your heart pounding.

With your hands now safely back at your sides, you feel Dean’s chest rumble with laughter as you whip around to shoot him a scowl. “Not funny, Dean.” you whine, watching as he struggled to pull himself out of the laughing fit.

A familiar sound, music like the kind you found in the car, turns your attention to the old barn. You take notice of the small cluster of families near the entrance, their arms full of freshly cut Christmas trees. The warm glow of string lights spills out from the open barn doors, illuminating the snow-dusted path leading up to it.

With one more flash of sharpened eyes at Dean, you march on towards the cosy atmosphere on the hill. Dean quickly falls in line, mumbling half-hearted apologies through the fading bubbles of laughter.

Stepping into the barn, the scent of fresh pine and hay wrap around you like a warm blanket. Inside, a few people mingle and look around the shop. A large wooden counter sits in the center, where an elderly man with kind eyes and a bushy white beard greets you with a wide smile.

Dean leans into your ear again as walks past, quickly murmuring, “That’s definitely Santa.” He pulls away with a glimmering smirk and shoots you a wink as he approaches the counter.

“Looking for a tree?” The man in a buffalo plaid jacket asks, his voice warm and welcoming. Your thoughts briefly wonder if he is Santa. But if a spirit actually went around invading people’s houses on the same night every year, surely Sam and Dean would have done something about it by now. You settle on a quiet suspicion that you would not be asking Dean about.

Dean glances at you, green eyes softening. “Yeah,” he says, his tone lighter than usual. “Somethin’ nice. She’s got high standards, this one.” He gestures to you with a big, charming smile. You nod back, not entirely sure what high standards for a tree would be, but you’re certain the bunker would need the best damn tree available.

Dean starts talking about height, type, and price with mr-may-or-may-not-be-Santa—a conversation that makes your brain wonder elsewhere. The barn was warm and something behind the counter mixed a chocolatey scent into the pine air. Wooden shelves lined the walls, stocked with syrup bottles, boxes of pastries, and Christmas themed trinkets. You moved towards them to get a closer look and search for anything pie-like for Dean.

As you muse around the small space, a basket of small, handwoven angel-dolls catches your eye. Curious, you step closer and pick one up, tilting your head as you inspect its delicate details. Each doll is unique, with different hair and skin tones, but they all share the same serene, closed-eyed expression. They look kind. Peaceful. So different from the angels you once knew in Heaven.

The quiet shuffle of boots behind you signals Dean’s approach. His jacket brushes the back of yours as he leans over your shoulder, his gaze following yours to the doll.

“That’s what we put on the top of the tree,” he says casually.

“Why?” you ask, tucking the angel back into its basket.

“Uh, not sure, really. Maybe—”

A gentle clink, clink, clink interrupts him. You both turn toward the sound to see the jolly man behind the counter holding a silver bell high over his head. His grin stretches wide over his rosy face as he announces, “You two are the first of the season!”

Dean’s brows furrow. “The first what?” he mutters under his breath, while your own confusion mirrors his.

The man gestures upward with a wink, then turns back to his work. Dean follows his motion, his head tilting back, he sees it. “Oh god,” he whispers with a quiet groan.

“What?” Your eyes trail up, finding a small sprig of green with red berries hanging over your heads.

“Mistletoe,” he answers flatly.

Your head tilts with curiosity, still staring at the small fixture, “and that means?”

Dean hesitates, glancing at you before clearing his throat. “You’re supposed to kiss whoever you’re caught underneath it with. And if you don’t, you get bad luck.”

Your lips twitch as you stifle a giggle. The thought of humans, for centuries, kissing beneath a little spring for the sake of good luck. Humans and their little quirks, never ceasing to entertain you. “How romantic.” you muse, that mischievous look, the one Dean has learned to recognize, is glowing in your eyes again.

He shifts uncomfortably, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, “It’s a stupid superstition we don’t—”

You’re not even paying attention to the words coming from his mouth. Instead, you lean onto your tiptoes, grabbing his wide shoulders for support as your lips place a soft kiss against his. He’s warm against your skin, his hands instinctively finding their place at your hips, causing goosebumps to ripple along your skin. Hot and dizzying. The sensation is so exciting that a light bulb clicks on inside your mind. This must be why humans kiss under a damn sprig.

It’s over just as quick, a fleeting touch, but enough to leave Dean frozen in place. When you pull back, his wide-eyed expression makes you bite your lip to suppress a laugh. You briefly wonder if kissing him when he’s grumpy would leave the same effect. A thought you’ll probably test, as it cements itself into the fabrics of your mind.

“You’re looking at me funny.” You say with a laugh. The innocence in your voice makes Dean’s head spin. Batting your lashes up at him like a kiss is as simple as a high five.

He blinks, green eyes raking your face as he processes what just happened, “You just kissed me.”

“Mhm,” you hum nonchalantly, thinking nothing of it.

“But you’re an angel—cupid or whatever.”

You arch a brow, tilting your head as if the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. “And?”

“I don’t know, I just…” Dean falters, gesturing vaguely. “I figured you’d be… you know, above that sort of thing.”

The corners of your lips twitch as you suppress a smile, your voice soft but teasing. “Did you think that means I’m some sort of prude, Dean Winchester?”

“Well, yeah,” he admits, still too caught off guard to filter his words. “Kinda.”

You shrug, your eyes alight with quiet amusement. “I’ve never been afraid of a little sin.”

Dean stares at you, utterly baffled, his mouth opening like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. His mind spins in circles, caught somewhere between disbelief and the faintest flicker of something he refuses to name.

Finally, he shakes his head and mutters, “Lovebird, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

You grin, the playful spark in your eye only growing. “Maybe. But at least you won’t have bad luck now.”

Dean groans, running a hand down his face as he turns toward the barn’s open doors. “C’mon, let’s just find a damn tree and get out of here before you decide to test any more sins on me.”

But as he walks ahead, his heart beats a little faster, and he doesn’t dare think too much about why he already misses the warmth of your lips.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Are you sure the Santa guy said you could do this?” You ask, your voice tinged with doubt as you glance between Dean and the awfully large axe slung over his shoulder.

Dean stands there, the very picture of confidence, one hand propped on his hip and the other gripping the axe like he’s posing for the cover of Lumberjack Monthly. His eyes rake over the tallest tree in the grove, a determined smirk playing on his lips. Somehow, he’d sweet-talked the man at the counter into letting him chop down the damn tree himself—a detail you’re still struggling to wrap your head around.

Your eyes timidly look over the rest of the trees. Some were already cut, bound in netting and propped against fences. Closer to the barn, a few families stand around men, dressed in matching plaid and denim, as they expertly axe down the pine—the way it’s supposed to go, a tradition you quickly picked up on.

Dean doing it himself, when you assume he’s never taken down a tree before, does not feel like the right way to go about the tradition.

“Cupid,” Dean sighs dramatically, still appraising the tree, “I chop vamp heads for a living. I think I can handle a little tree.”

You eye the towering pine skeptically. “I wouldn’t exactly call this ‘little.’”

Dean turns to you, his smirk widening as a glint of mischief flashes in his eyes. “That’s what—” He stops mid-sentence, recoiling at himself as he shakes his head. “Nope. Nope. Not doin’ it.”

You blink at him, confused by his abrupt backpedaling, but before you can ask, he’s already stepping up to the tree and hefting the axe like it’s a wonky baseball bat.

With a hefty swing, the blade lodges into the trunk with a solid thud. Dean pauses, straightening to inspect his handiwork, though his furrowed brow suggests he’s less than impressed.

Letting out a frustrated huff, he shrugs off his jacket and shoves it into your hands. “Hold this,” he mutters, already focused on pulling the axe free for another attempt.

You dutifully clutch the jacket, taking a tentative step back as Dean lines up his next swing. The follow-through chips a small piece from the trunk, sending it flying through the air. Your gaze tracks it as it lands quietly in the snow.

“Dean,” you whine softly, glancing around at the other families in the field who seem to be having a much smoother time letting professionals handle the chopping. “Maybe we should—”

A sharp crack interrupts you, the sound startling as it echoes through the crisp air. Your breath catches as you snap your attention back to Dean, who’s now whistling under his breath, clearly pleased with himself.

“Alright!” he cheers, his grin wide and triumphant as he puts more force behind his swings. The tree trembles with each impact, the gap between trunk and stump widening until, at last, the entire pine groans and falls with a muffled thud into the snow.

Dean chucks the axe to the ground, throwing his arms up in victory. His breath puffing visibly in the cold air. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, baby!”

For a moment, you’re frozen, staring at the tree in awe. It’s not just any tree, you realize—it’s your very first Christmas tree. The thought sinks in, filling you with a fizzy warmth that bubbles up into a grin so wide it makes your cheeks ache. Without thinking, you hop across the snow to where Dean is standing, your boots crunching beneath you.

“You did it!” you squeak, your voice breathless with excitement as you fling your arms around his neck.

The hug catches Dean off guard, but his hands instinctively settle at your waist, pulling you closer and lifting you just slightly off the ground. He’s sturdy, like an anchor, and for a moment, the world feels perfectly still despite the crisp air and the snow swirling gently around you.

You pull back a fraction, your arms still looped loosely around his neck, and Dean looks down at you, his own grin softening. His chest tightens unexpectedly at the sight of you—eyes wide and sparkling, cheeks flushed from the cold, or maybe from something else entirely. The joy radiating from you feels almost too much, too bright, too... vulnerable.

He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry as the warmth of the moment wraps around him.

“Oh, lover,” he murmurs, the nickname tumbling out unbidden, his voice low and almost reverent. “you gotta stop lookin’ at me like that. For my own sake.”

Your grin falters for just a second, confusion flickering in your eyes. “Like what?” you ask softly, your voice almost unsure, as if the words themselves hold a weight you can’t quite grasp.

Dean chuckles, shaking his head like he’s trying to brush off the way his stomach twists at your innocent question. “Never mind,” he mutters, his hands lingering just a moment too long before gently setting you back on the snowy ground.

You don’t linger on his words, too focused on the tree, and how it doesn’t make you feel jittery and nervous like the way looking Dean in the eye is making you feel. “C’mon, Dean,” you say, your voice bright again, “let’s get this Christmas tree home!”

Dean watches you bounce toward the tree’s trunk, your laughter dancing in the air like the snowflakes falling around you. His chest feels tight again, but this time, he doesn’t fight it. The way your smile lingers in his mind feels dangerous, but he can’t seem to let it go.

Against his own better judgement, he lets himself soak it all in—the smile he puts on your face, the way your excitement feels like a kiss from the sun in the dead of winter.

He exhales slowly, his breath visible in the cold air, and picks up the axe with a quiet smile tugging at his lips. Watching you crouch to inspect the tree like it’s the most magical thing you’ve ever seen, he reels in the inexplicable warmth settling in his chest.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself, his voice soft. “Let’s get it home.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Back at the bunker…

The living room feels much more cozy with all of the festive decor priming the room. The scent of pine mingling with the usual smell of dust and old books. The tree is nearly perfect—twinkling lights casting a golden glow, red and green ornaments catching the light in sparkling bursts. But the top remains bare.

The three of you are finishing up the tree, clad in matching sweaters. Dean let you pick them out, each adorning little reindeer and ‘oh deer’ written across the image with sparkling jewels.

“You’re too far to the left, Sam!” you call out, hands on your hips as you stand beside Dean.

“It’s centered,” Sam retorts, utilizing his full height and wing span as he adjusts the angel at the top of the tree.

“No, she’s right,” Dean cuts in frankly, arms crossed. He squints up at the angel. “It’s a little crooked. Just tilt it—”

Sam groans. “You two are impossible.”

You nudge Dean with your elbow, grinning up at him. “Told you I have a good eye.”

Dean smirks, shaking his head. “You? A good eye?” He shakes his head, smirking. “Please.”

With an exaggerated huff, Sam adjusts the angel one more time, muttering something under his breath about “backseat decorators.” But when both you and Dean gasp in unison, he pauses to look down.

“Better?”

“Perfect!” you both chime at the same time, your voices overlapping in synchronicity.

You glance at Dean, giggling at the moment’s absurdity, only to find him already looking at you. His grin softens, the teasing edge replaced by something warmer, deeper.

“Told you teamwork makes the dream work,” he gloats, but his voice is quieter, almost teasing.

You look away quickly, that funny warmth spreading to your cheeks again. The way he keeps looking at you today, all that warmth in his pretty green eyes—it’s too much. There’s a warm gooey feeling stirring in your chest, the intensity of new emotions is always exhausting. But this? You’re not even sure how you’re still standing when your knees keep going weak.

Your hand brushes against the weight in your pocket, the mistletoe you had swiped earlier suddenly feeling heavier. The memory of the earlier kiss flashes in your mind, and your stomach flutters nervously. What if—no. You can’t just stand here thinking about it. God, no. You have a thought to chase down and explore.

“I, um… I’ll be right back!” you blurt out, spinning on your heel before either brother can question you.

Dean blinks, caught off guard. “What? Where are you—?”

But you’re already halfway down the hall, moving faster than you probably need to. Sam and Dean share confused looks, the younger brother shrugging before turning back to the tree to adjust some of the ornaments. Dean tries to let it go, but he’d actually enjoyed having you so close to him all day, he couldn’t just shake the annoyance he felt at your absence.

Meanwhile, your quickened pace comes to a harsh stop at your room, heart racing. Clumsily pulling the small spring from your pocket, you fasten it to the doorframe with a piece of tape. You step back to admire your handiwork, a sly grin spreading across your face despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Dean!” you call out, your voice light and sing-songy, “can you come here for a sec?”

His boots are heavy against the floor as he approaches, stopping just short of the doorway. His eyes narrow as they take in your giddy grin and the way you’re practically bouncing in place.

“What’s going on?” he asks, suspicious.

You point upward, your smile widening as his gaze follows your gesture. The mistletoe dangles above him, and his expression shifts—part amusement, part exasperation.

“Seriously?” he drawls. “You stole that, didn’t you?”

You press your lips together, suppressing a giggle. “Borrowed,” you correct innocently.

Dean shakes his head, his lips pressing together in a way that barely hides his smile. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” but it’s so quiet, as if he’s only speaking to himself.

You shrug, your playful tone impossible to hide. “I’m a cupid,” you say sweetly, as if that explains everything. “And you’re under the mistletoe.” You remind him.

He sighs, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes take their time looking you up and down. Like he’s trying to measure you up, your mischievous nature making his head spin once again.

And Dean really hates getting his mind frazzled, especially by a little thing who’s so goddamn sugary sweet.

“Uh huh, you got me there.”

You nod, reeling in the way he’s giving into you. “Rules are rules, Dean.”

There are about a million and one reasons why he shouldn’t entertain this. Getting caught under the mistletoe at the barn was one thing—a moment of bad timing, easily brushed off. But this? This cheeky little stunt of yours, this deliberate invitation—it’s another story entirely. You’re an angel, literally, for God’s sake. There’s gotta be rules around this growing connection that he’s been so stubbornly ignoring. That much he’s sure of. Nevermind the fact that you’re pure, a true beacon of sweet curiosity and everything he is not.

Dean knows damn well his rough hands would quickly break something so delicate if put in his grasp.

But you’re excited, staring at him starry-eyed. And it’s just a kiss. Hardly a real one if there’s a mistletoe commanding it, right?

Surely, this sin can be forgiven… twice.

For once in his life, Dean lets go of the ever-tight grip he has on his better judgment. He silences the screaming voice in his head, loosens the chains on the flickering desire he’s tried so hard to bury. His body moves before his brain can catch up, his hand lifting to your face.

His thumb presses into the soft skin of your chin, his fingers firm but gentle as they tilt your head up toward him.

Your breath catches. He pauses, leaning in close enough that the peppermint-laced warmth of his breath fans over your lips. The hesitation lasts only a heartbeat, just long enough for that voice in the back of his mind to beg him to stop.

But he doesn’t.

Dean closes the distance, his lips pressing against yours. It’s firm but not harsh, sure yet somehow keeping a tenderness he’s finding harder to deny around you. Your world tilts, heart hammering so loudly you’re certain he can feel it in your chest. For a moment, the edges of everything blur—time, space, all of it—until there’s only him.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The other finds your hip, anchoring you to him in a way that feels as much like a need as a want. Your hands move instinctively, planting firmly on either side of his neck, fingers curling into his hair for stability.

The kiss deepens, unhurried yet consuming, his lips leading and yours eagerly following. The lingering scent of pine clings faintly to him, grounding you even as the dizzying heat of his touch threatens to sweep you away.

When he finally pulls back, his chest rises and falls heavily, breaths mingling with yours in the narrow space he leaves between you. His lips linger close to yours as he murmurs, voice low and rough, “Happy now?”

It takes a moment for you to find your voice, still lost in the haze of what just happened. Your cheeks burn, but the giddy smile spreading across your face is impossible to contain. “Oh, I don’t know,” you tease breathlessly, tilting your head. “Maybe. I think your Grinch heart might’ve grown at least one size today.”

Dean snorts, the tension breaking as the corner of his mouth lifts into the grin you’ve been pulling out of him all day. “You’re impossible,” he says, though there’s no real bite to it. Not this time.

Even as he steps back, as he forces himself to put distance between you, his eyes stay locked on yours. Jade green and conflicted, they linger for a beat too long, like he’s trying to figure out what on god’s green earth he’s just gotten himself into.

this was so long im sorry, i got a lil carried away

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 6 days ago

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Chat I made a taglist so please fill it out because I don’t want to be a loser and only have like one person on my taglist..

Link

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 6 days ago

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Just saw this on Twitter and it reminded me of my teen!dad Jess fic I’m writing lol

#jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano x you #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano #jess mariano smut

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 6 days ago

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Guys I'm currently writing the teen!dad Jess Mariano request I got but I have no Idea what to name their kid. I'm writing them to have a daughter because Jess if defiantly a girl dad.

If the person who sent the request sees this and would like to pick the name please send me an ask letting me know. If anyone else has any ideas please please please reply to this or send an ask letting me know your ideas because I'm so stuck.

#jess mariano #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano x you #gilmore girls #gilmore girls x reader

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 6 days ago

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Coming Soon(ish):

I never ended up doing anything for October so I'm using those ideas now i got then for now instead so some of those will be on here. If any of these interest you please let me know in a comment or in my asks and I'll try to prioritize it.

To be written:

John B with brat reader (from @mirellef2001.)

Period comfort with JJ Maybank, Billy Hargrove and Jess Mariano (separate, from anons.)

Robin Buckley x Munson Reader (from anon)

Riding Jess Mariano (from anon)

Aftercare with JJ Maybank (from anon)

Dean and Sam's younger sister headcanons (from me)

Teen!dad Jess Mariano (from anon)

Currently working on: Number 7 - Teen!dad Jess Mariano (from anon)

#sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #jj maybank x reader #jess mariano x reader #robin buckley x reader #eddie munson x reader #john b routledge x reader #billy hargrove x reader

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 6 days ago

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☆Dean Winchester Masterlist☆

Oneshots:

Blurbs&Headcanons:

Nsfw alphabet

Moodboards:

Series:

#dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural x reader #supernatural

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 6 days ago

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Dean Winchester nsfw alphabet

Masterlist

Taglist

☆ Paring(s): Dean Winchester x reader

☆ Words: 1,452

☆ Warnings: Lost of me mentions of sex (obviously) but no actual smut, 18+, established relationship, mentions of oral, sex toys, edging, cum, masturbation (dean), swearing, pls lmk if i need to add anything else

☆ Summary: nsfw alphabet. idk what else to say.

A - After Care (what they’re like after sex and how they take care of you)

Dean would be the BEST at aftercare. As soon as your done, he would just sit inside you for a few minutes while whispering praises to you, telling you how good you did before gently pulling out. He would always give you the option of having a shower now or later. If you chose to shower right after, he would carry you to the shower and clean your body for you. He also loved to wash your hair for you while giving you a head massage. If you chose to shower later, he would get a damp towel and wipe you both up before helping you get dressed in his shirt and then, he would hold you tightly as you cuddled under the covers together before you both doze off.

B - Body Part (Their favourite body part of theirs and yours)

His favourite of himself is probably his jawline or his muscles. Idk why it just makes sense to me. He would be so cocky about how strong he is, specially how easy it was for him to carry you around and man handle you.

Honestly as cheesy as it sounds, Dean loves your entire body so incredibly much that it’s hard for him to just pick one favourite body part. He thinks you’re the most beautiful person that he has ever seen in his entire life. But if he had to choose, it would probably be your tits and he wouldn’t even care how big or small they are. (He has stated multiple times that boob pillows are the best kind of pillows.)

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum)

If he doesn’t cum inside you he’ll probably cum on your tits/stomach or if you’re facing down, it’ll be on your back/ass. He has always loved to watch his cum leak out of you after he finishes inside you..

D - Dirty Secret (self explanatory)

It’s no lie that dean loves to take pictures of you but you don’t quite realize how many dirty pictures of you he has. He definitely keeps a dirty Polaroid picture of you- probably from when you guys were having sex, in his wallet so he can always see you.

E - Experience (How experienced are they in bed?)

We all know Dean is very experienced and it shows. He knows your body better than you do at this point. He knows every little thing about your body, what feels good, what doesn’t, how to make you scream, etc.

F - Favourite Position (self explanatory)

He’s a classic and loves missionary or pretty much any position where he gets to watch your pretty face as he turns you into a big mess. He also loves doggy style and fucking you in the impala (after putting his leather jacket down because baby deserves better than that).

G - Goofy (how serious are they during sex?)

Dean is usually pretty serious during sex but he also likes joking around with you. Sometimes when he’s not as serious, you would both be giggling and laughing together as he fucks into you.

H - Hair (how well groomed are they? What do they think about their partner having hair or not?)

I don’t think Dean would really bother with shaving. He would definitely keep himself pretty trimmed for the most part though.

He would not give a single flying fuck if you shaved or not. You could wax or never shave or anything and it wouldn’t make a difference. All that matters to him is if you’re comfortable or not.

For example:

“Can I take these pretty little panties off, sweetheart?” “I haven’t shaved..” “I don’t give a fuck and that’s not what I asked.”

I - Intimacy (how romantic they during sex)

He’s usually pretty intimate but it takes a while for him to be. He’s used to casual hook ups and one night stands so he never really opened up to anyone that way before.

J - Jack-off (do they masturbate? How often)

This man is such a slut and he masturbates a lot. Sometimes he wishes you would walk in on him and help him out. Whenever you’re apart for whatever reason like if he’s on a hunt without you, 9 times out of 10 he’s jerking off because he misses you.

K - Kinks (some of their kinks)

He 100% has a size kink. He loves how much his cock would stretch you open, more than anything else in the world. Dean also probably has a small daddy or sir kink but it’s not too intense.

Love love LOVES when you tell him he’s doing good. He loves knowing he’s making you feel good and loves your accidental praises while you fall apart. (He loves praising you as well).

L - Location (where they prefer to have sex)

Dean will honestly fuck you anywhere he can. The most common spots you have sex are in bed or in baby (like I said before).

M - Motivation (what turns them on?)

Pretends to hate it but he secretly loves when you’re being bratty, loves putting you back in your place.

N - No (what won’t they do? Turn offs)

Dean is pretty open to anything but he would never want to hurt you too bad, he’s down for a little spanking or even sometimes choking but he will never get too rough in that way. If you don’t want to do something then he doesn’t either.

O - Oral (do they prefer giving or receiving?)

He loves making you feel good but he also goes down on you for himself too. He’s so obsessed with the way you taste, and the noises you make when he eats you out. He also loves when you give him blow jobs but defiantly prefers giving.

P - Pace (how fast&rough or slow&soft they are)

Dean can be very rough but also very soft. He usual likes to fuck you rough and hard into the mattress but he also really likes gentle, soft sex. Especially when it’s early in the morning, you’re both still half asleep but also needy he can be really soft and sweet.

No matter if he’s being rough or soft he makes sure you’re okay constantly.

Q - Quickies (what is their opinion on quickies? Do they do them often?)

Dean is always so horny so quickies are a regular thing for you guys. He obviously loves taking his time with you but when you don’t have much time we is always down for a quickie.

R - Risk (how much do they experiment? Do they take risks?)

He is such a kinky person and would be down to try almost anything with you at least once.

S - Stamina (how many rounds can they last?)

He will usually go for 1-2 rounds but he can last up to 4.

T - Toys (do they own toys? How do they use them?)

Dean would hardly ever user toys on you unless you specifically asked him to. He’s selfish and wants to be the only one who can make you feel good.

U - Unfair (how much do they tease?)

I swear to fucking god this man is the biggest tease EVER. He would tease you forever if he could because he loves making you whine and beg for him.

V - Volume (how loud they during sex)

Dean never shuts the fuck up during sex so in that way he’s very loud. As far as moaning goes, he is usually not very loud but he will groan quietly.

W - Wild Card (random headcanon)

Dean loves to edge you, he could go for hours and never get bored. You could be crying and begging for him to let you cum but that cocky little bastard will keep going for a while before be finally lets you cum.

X - X-ray (what are they packing under their clothes?)

He’s a solid 8 inches and is also thick as fuck which he constantly brags to you about.

Y - Yearning (how high their sex drive is)

Hornist man you will ever meet. He is always down for sex.

Z - Zzz (how fast they fall asleep after)

It would usually take Dean a while to fall asleep after sex, unless you really tired each other out. He always makes sure you fall asleep first (even when you don’t have sex), so he can make sure you’re okay and safe. He likes to watch you sleep for a while before actually sleeping himself because he claims that you always look so peaceful.

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated <3

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural #supernatural x reader #dean winchester x you

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 7 days ago

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chat i found this dean winchester c.ai bot where user is a demon and i kinda fell in love with it..

anyways i came into here to see if there was any dean x demon reader and i couldn’t find any 😭.

if anyone sees any please please please tag me in them, i will give you my first born child. i don’t even care if it’s fluff or smut. i’m so desperately istg.

#star thoughts #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader smut

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 7 days ago

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24 Kinky Days with Dean x reader - Day 12.

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: None! SFW. Just pure fluff! (English is not my native language) If you squint your eyes, it contains brief reference to Dec.9 (Whip Stroke)

Summary: Just Dean taking care of his clingy morning honey-badger. <3

Words: 800

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! And let me know whether you enjoy it so far! <3 A/N: After we had Dean's deadbeat mode yesterday, I felt like it's readers turn for sleepy-grouchy-mode and getting pampered. Maybe mornings aren't that bad after all

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

12th Dec. - My entire world

“Rise and shine.”

Nope you think to yourself and roll over to the side.

“Up - come on, sunshine.”

You grumble something and pull the blanket over your head.

Dean sighs and leans down to pull the blanket back again. You protest by whining terribly and tugging at it, trying to disappear under it. Dean can’t help but chuckle at your futile attempt to bury yourself in the heap of blankets and pillows. He sticks his head in between you and the blanket he’s now holding at bay with his right hand. He nuzzles his face into your curled up form, “Come on sunshine” he mutters in between your grouchy sounds, “You gotta get up.”

“I don’t wanna… leave meee,” you whine, and the words come out almost like a warning.

Dean raises his eyebrows at your disgruntled tone but otherwise stays unfazed. He sighs again, “Okay, that’s it.” He declares with a rumbling voice.

He slides his left arm under your waist and grabs one of your hands to pry it away from the strangled blanket in your tight grip. You squirm and protest and snap at him with threatening words. He rolls his eyes in silence and proceeds to wrap one of your free arms around his neck while he carefully pulls you closer. “Hold on,” he mutters against your struggling form, the words almost drowned out by a hail of curses.

He grunts when your knee connects with his stomach. His grip around your waist briefly tightens to keep you from wiggling out of his arms, “Jesus, will ya stop fighting me like a demon?”

Before you know it, he lifts you off the bed and you instinctively hold onto his neck for dear life. “You done cursin' me out?”

You mutter a tiny ‘yes’.

“Good.”

He moves his other arm under your bum to push you further up into his chest while he holds you close with a strong hand on your lower back. You cling to him with your arms wrapped tightly around his neck and your legs locked behind his back.

“Damn little koala.” He mutters gruffly, but his tone has no bite. With a little shove, he tugs your head under his chin where you immediately bury your face to escape the bright light. You feel the rumble of his chest when he chuckles lightly, amused by the way you curl up on his arm like some oversized puppy. Without you noticing, he carefully pulls his phone out to snap a picture of you. One purposely stupid and unflattering one to tease you with later, and one cute one, just for himself.

Meanwhile you are caught in your own peaceful world. Your nose nuzzles against his skin, sniffing the scent of his natural musk. A low hum stirs inside you as you’re taking in the familiar scent like it’s the best fragrance in the whole world. The smell of your own safe haven. Only meant for you.

He starts to make his way to the kitchen, all the while carrying your clinging form like a big koala. He bounces you up and down slightly, to keep you from dozing off again. But you do nonetheless, leaving a little drool on his shirt.

Dean glances down at you, his eyes going soft at your half-asleep face, not minding the stain at all. To him you always look so peaceful like this. So beautiful. And to be honest, even though you’d always act like a grumpy honey-badger in the morning, he secretly loves it when you are clingy like this. It’s one of the rare moments where he for once gets to pamper you. To hold you close and save from everything evil. Even if he’d never admit any of this out loud.

Just then you snuggle into him and his heart skips a beat. To him it feels like he's holding his entire world in his arms. And he doesn't ever want to let you go again. He subtly tightens his wrapped arms around you, making sure your legs don't slip off his hips.

While he gets you two into the kitchen, he shakes you awake again, earning himself a disgruntled groan of yours.

He huffs and rolls his eyes with a teasing smile. “If you weren’t this cute I’d spank your ass for that tantrum.” He pauses and his eyebrows pull together in mock-annoyed amusement, “No wait, you might actually like that.”

You grumble something along the line of ‘screw you’ into the crook of his neck which makes him crack a cheeky smile.

“You want coffee?” He tilts his head down next to you, trying to coax you out of the crook of his neck. You briefly shake your head with a mumbled ‘no’. Dean’s smirk widens and he places a gentle kiss on your head. “Choccy milk it is then.”

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Masterlist of opened windows:

1st Dec. - Sunshine 2nd Dec. - Spell Book 3rd Dec. - Lights Out 4th Dec. - Tickle 5th Dec. - Dirty UNO 6th Dec. - (TBA) 7th Dec. - Candlelight 8th Dec. - Hex Play 9th Dec. - Whip Stroke 10th Dec. - Barbie World 11th Dec. - Temptation

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Tags:

@ariasong11 @deansjacket @literallylexa @lmpala1967 @foxyjwls007 @impala67rollingthroughtown

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eddiemunsonistheloml · 15 days ago

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flesh and bone - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

You and Eddie belong to each other - flesh and bone. (This is just pure filth)

Warnings:

Smut (18+), porn no plot, protected and unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), creampie, breeding kink, handcuffs, language

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N:

This was inspired by The Summoning by Sleep Token! I’m obsessed.

—

Eddie was obsessed with you.

That was putting it simply. He worshipped you.

And his favorite place to do that was between your legs.

You lay on his soft mattress, his brown curls tickling your thighs as he gripped onto them and licked a stripe along your folds with his long (unfairly talented) tongue. He had your hands handcuffed to the bed above you. Your body came alive beneath him, his every touch electricity through your very soul.

He flicked his tongue over your clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking gently. Your hands gripped onto the bed frame for leverage, high, desperate moans filling the air of his tiny bedroom. Eddie groaned against your core, sending vibrations through you and intensifying the pleasure even more.

“You taste so good,” he groaned, fingers digging into your thighs as if he was the one floating above the clouds. “Like heaven. You’re a fucking goddess.”

“Eddie, I want you so bad,” you called, pulling on the cuffs and bucking your hips up against his face to convince him to give you what you so desperately needed.

Eddie obeyed, as he always did, climbing up your body and trailing kisses over your skin. “You have me,” he hummed as he reached your neck, biting down on that sensitive spot that always made you cry out. “You have my body, flesh and bone.”

“Yeah?” you whispered as his lips brushed over yours.

“The sky above, the earth below,” he mumbled back like his personal mantra.

He pulled a condom from the box on the side table, ripping it open and sliding it onto his thick length, painfully hard and already leaking precum. “Need you so bad, baby. I’m aching for you.”

“Please fuck me, Eds,” you begged, causing him to groan at your words. He couldn’t deny you anything, certainly not this.

He slid his cock between your folds, coating it in your wetness so he could slide his girth into you with ease. Sex with Eddie had been intense the first time, he was huge, but he always did his best to make sure you were comfortable.

He pressed his cockhead against your entrance, sliding just the tip inside with a stretch. He moaned at the tight fit around him, fingers digging into your thighs as he held them against your body to bare you completely to him. He wanted to fuck you hard and deep tonight.

You cried out as he continued to push deeper into you, Metallica playing loudly over his speakers. “My good girl,” he praised as he filled you deeply, watching the way his cock disappeared into your tight pussy. “Such a good girl, being so bad for me.”

“Only for you,” you promised, writhing as he pushed in deeper, feeling like it went on forever. He was long and thick, and you clenched around him as he bottomed out, buried to the hilt in your pussy, his balls pressed against your ass as he stilled.

“Shit, babe,” Eddie hissed, fingers gripping tighter into your thighs. “So tight and wet. Fuck. I might not last.”

“Fuck me hard, Eddie, please,” you pleaded, needing him to move, to take you as rough and hard as he pleased.

“As you wish, princess,” he said, pulling out slowly inch by inch, until only his tip remained. You whined, wiggling beneath him with anticipation. He smirked as he watched your reaction, then snapped his hips back into yours, skin slapping against your ass as he bottomed out again. You cried out again, the feeling of him so deeply inside of you so intense you could barely handle it. He set a brutal pace, hips slamming into you with every thrust.

“Fuuuck, princess, you’re taking me so well,” he praised you, his bed knocking into the wall along with his quick rhythm. You were grateful Wayne wouldn’t be home from work until morning, because you were sure the whole trailer park could hear you two.

“Eddie, s’big, you’re so fucking big and so deep, holy fuck, please never stop-“ you rambled, your brain turning hazy as he fucked you mercilessly. Your rambling turned incoherent as his cockhead rammed into that perfect spot deep within you.

“Aww, my pretty girl, am I fucking you stupid?” Eddie teased, fucking you in a full mating press now. He thrusted down into your perfect heat, his head dropping down and his brown curls tickling your skin. He reached a hand between you and began to rub quick circles on your clit. “I can tell you’re close, baby. Can feel you squeezing around my dick, feels so fucking good. I need you to cum for me, can you be a good girl and do that?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, your high building rapidly as he expertly brought you to your peak. You watched as his face contorted in pleasure, fighting to keep his eyes open so he could keep looking at you, but the pleasure was so intense they kept falling closed.

“Come on baby, cum for me,” he encouraged you as his fingers worked your clit perfectly, and you fell over the edge. You screamed his name over and over, pulling on the cuffs, wanting nothing more than to grab onto him as your high wracked through your body, pussy convulsing around his cock.

“Ah ah, princess,” Eddie teased you again, hips speeding up. His voice was still cocky, but you could hear in it how close he was to his own release. “You don’t get to touch me this time. I’m in charge, remember?”

You nodded your head, feeling overstimulated as he continued to pound into you. “I want you to fill me up, Eds,” you begged him.

His hips stuttered against you. “Fuck, princess, you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“I’m serious,” you said. “Please. Wanna feel you fill me.”

Eddie reluctantly slowed his hips until he was completely stopped, buried inside you. “Are you sure?” He asked, completely serious now.

“Yes, Eddie, please.”

Eddie pulled out of you, pulling the condom off and tossing it into the trash can. He pumped his cock in his ringed fist a few times, looking down at your body spread wide for him. “You’re 100% sure?”

“Oh my god, Eddie, just cum in me already.”

Eddie chuckled, slapping your ass hard. You jolted at the sensation, a little “Ah!” coming from your lips involuntarily. “Remember your place, baby.”

He pushed back into you, pushing your legs up next to your head again and thrusting in all the way with no warning. He began pounding into you with the same vigor as before. “Shit, feels so good fucking you like this, princess. I can feel all of you.”

You could tell Eddie was close by the way his muscles were clenching, his eyes falling closed again. “Fuck, I’m so close, baby. Gonna fill this pussy up with my cum. You want that?”

“Yes, god yes!”

Eddie groaned, his thrusts losing their rhythm. He was right there. “God, such a bad girl for me. So fucking filthy. Fuck, fuck, fuck, take it!” His hips slammed into yours one final time as he came deep inside you, the most beautiful groans spilling from his lips. He pumped into you lightly a few more times as he rode out his high and filled you completely.

He stayed buried in you, body shaking with the intensity of his orgasm. “Holy shit, I can’t believe you let me do that.”

You giggled, looking up into the eyes of your boyfriend, his pupils still blown wide with lust. “I liked it. A lot.” You pulled on the cuffs again. “Can you let me out?”

“Shit, yeah,” he said, pulling out of you slowly. He watched as some of his cum dripped out of your pussy as he exited you. “Fuuuuck, that’s hot.”

He grabbed the keys to the cuffs and unlocked them, rubbing your sore wrists. He helped you clean up before laying in bed next to you.

“You’re absolutely perfect,” he said, tracing circles on your hip as his body wrapped around yours from behind. “So beautiful. All mine.”

“All yours,” you promised him. “Flesh and bone.”

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