#Dean Winchester imagines

[sacr1ficialang3l]

older!dean headcanons˚୨୧⋆｡

OLDER!DEAN WINCHESTER X YOUNGER!READER (read here)

WARNINGS: mentions of/implied smut (MDNI). age gap.

NOTES: He is back! My psych final is tomorrow and i am going insane, so this is shorter than usual. You have all been so sweet and supportive, and I just wanted to give you a little something as a thank you while I study. I love you all, thanks for the kind words. As always, English is not my first language. Enjoy<3

˚୨୧⋆｡ After months of resisting you and denying his feelings, he is the sweetest man ever when you two get together. He adores you, and he makes sure to show you. He spoils you rotten, lets you get away with almost anything, and he always needs to have a hand on you.

˚୨୧⋆｡ He is protective!!! Like, very protective. He always keeps an eye on you during hunts, and makes sure to kill any evil motherfucker before they can even think of putting their hands on you. And when you do get hurt, you think it pains him more than it does you. He patches you up with gentle touches he didn’t think his blood-stained hands were capable of. He looks at you with sad, deep eyes as he kisses over the wound, and then he doesn’t even let you get up from bed, even if the injury is as tiny as a paper cut. 

˚୨୧⋆｡ After every case, he loves, or more like needs to cradle you against his chest and hold you close. He wraps his huge arms around you and presses you to his side, or on top of him, and he just buries his face on your hair and breathes in. He tells you it is to calm you down after hunts, to make you feel safe. But you think it is more about him. Like he needs to remind himself that you’re okay. That you’re there next to him, and that you’re not going anywhere. 

˚୨୧⋆｡ You love to annoy him, it is your favorite hobby. Play with his hair while he and Sam research in the library, brushing it right in front of his eyes while he tries to read. You love to sit in a barstool in the garage while he works on Baby and talk his ear off when he has no way to escape (not that he would). You force him to watch rom-coms and chick-flicks that he pretends to hate, but you catch him smiling to himself a few times. You poke him, and bite him, and jump on him all the time, and he wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

˚୨୧⋆｡ You have a habit of sinking your teeth into his biceps any chance you get. There are always teeth marks on his flesh that he wears with pride. (There are always hickies on your thighs and collarbones to match, of course.)

˚୨୧⋆｡ He claims not to be the jealous type. “I'm too old for things like that, sweetheart.” But you knew he was. He didn’t mind when people stared at you when you walked into a bar or around a small town, always that his arm was around your shoulders or your hand was on his. He is proud that such a pretty girl chose him. But the moment some frat boy tries to approach you at a bar when you are alone, he feels his blood boil. He watches from far away for a few seconds, trying to keep his cool, but he loses it when the guy decides to brush your hair behind your ear. He quickly walks across the bar until he is right behind you, pulling you against his chest and glaring at the dude over the top of your head. The boy is gone in less than a second.

˚୨୧⋆｡ You try to show your love for him in every way you can. Dean was confident and strong, but it sometimes felt like he doubted your feelings for him, like his brain was trying to convince him that you deserved better and that you would get tired of being with some old guy eventually. So, you shower him in love. You learn how to bake pies just for him, making him a new one every week. You wash his hair in the shower, massaging his scalp to help him relax. You get him naked in bed and go on a journey of kissing every scar you can find. You press your lips over the small ones, run your tongue over the long and raised ones. And of course you make sure to tell him how much you love him. You murmur soft i love you’s against his lips. You remind him every day of how beautiful he is, how good he is. You whisper in his ear about how hot he is, how he makes you lose your mind and how no one could ever compare to him.

˚୨୧⋆｡ Dean liked being rough with you in bed. He loved manhandling you, leaving purple fingertips marks on your hips, pulling your hair. He was careful at first, too scared to hurt you. But you wanted him to, you begged him to make it hurt. 

˚୨୧⋆｡ Because you loved it when it hurt a little. When he sank his teeth into the flesh of your thighs, when your knees ended up bruised from kneeling on the floor for too long, when you could still feel him days after. You love the marks that he leaves, a living reminder of his touch on your body. It made you feel complete, it made you feel his.

˚୨୧⋆｡ Dean tried to go slow with you at first, thinking that you might be too inexperienced for everything he wanted to do to you. But he didn’t know that you were just as much or even freakier than him. 

˚୨୧⋆｡ Your favorite thing to do was, when Dean and you were alone in the Impala for a long drive, to rest your head in his lap. You lay across the front seat casually, looking up at him with innocent eyes when he sends you a warning look. You start by “accidentally” rubbing your cheek against his crotch, loving the way the scratchy fabric of his jeans felt against your skin. You would tease him until he was hard and his breath was ragged, and then you would take him in your mouth. You order him to keep driving as you suck him off slowly. You drag it out, edge him until he is desperate and gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. And when he finally comes, you swallow it all like a good girl, moaning in satisfaction, enjoying the way his cum coats your tongue. It makes him groan every time, nostrils flared with the need to fuck you. Sometimes you keep going, keep suckling on him until he is whining in oversensitivity and has to pull you away by your hair.

˚୨୧⋆｡ In return, Dean gives you pleasure every time he can. He can eat your pussy for hours on end, in the kitchen counter, or the Impala, or in a lonely classroom when you have to infiltrate a school for a case. He will fuck you on his bed, or the floor, or against the wall. He just loves to make his girl feel good, see you shaking with pleasure, begging him to stop and to keep going at the same time. He loves when you tell him that he’s the best you have ever had, and the best you will have. He loves when you scream his name and your thighs close around his head because of the overwhelming sensations. He loves to make you cry with pleasure. 

˚୨୧⋆｡ But after, he is the sweetest guy ever. He takes aftercare very seriously, murmuring reassuring words against your skin and softly kissing every bruise and bite mark. He reminds you of how much he loves you, of how much you matter to him. 

“I don’t know what I would do without you, baby. You keep me sane.”

“You’re such a good girl, my beautiful princess.”

“I will take care of you forever. Nothing will ever hurt you while I'm here.”

“I love you.”

NOTES: wish me luck on my final! I will be back after I'm finally free.

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

[dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy]

Dean Winchester Fanfic Recs

a/n: these are all fan fictions that I think deserve more recognition or some that I will always go back to reread ! and if you're one of the authors and prefer I don't @ your work for whatever reason lmk and ill remove it <3

One-shots/Imagines/Drabbles

Angst

Stabbed by @watermelonlipstick

Stubborn Comfort by @wearywinchester

Comfort Crowd by @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

He's Not a Machine! by @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

Hold on to Me by @supernatural-fangirl1967

Restless Nights by @zepskies

aftermath by @valjy

Touch by @supernotnatural2005

stitches by @dewwinchester

Fluff

Dating Dean Winchester Headcanons by @fooshigoomies

Being Dean's Wife by @deanbrainrotwritings

Too Many Beds by @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

Faithfully by @fanfictionalraven

Get a Room. by @em-ontv

Every Day That You Want by @godmadeaterribleerror

i feel so high school every time i look at you ... by @deerlysacred

Miniskirt by @wendichester

photobooth by @honeyryewhiskey

Smut

To Need Somebody by @godmadeaterribleerror

Hold You Tight in My Mind by @godmadeaterribleerror

I'll Crawl Home by @godmadeaterribleerror

The Hiatus Beard by @supernotnatural2005

Dean x Reader Series + Miniseries

Canon/Canon-Compliant

Well, Hello there stranger by @talesmaniac89

Sleeping Awake by @talesmaniac89

Carry On by @jawritter

Genesis Primus: A Supernatural Series Rewrite by @dianawinchester03

Reno by @fanfictionalraven

Babylon the Great by @godmadeaterribleerror

Death on Holiday by @godmadeaterribleerror

AU

Escape by @soaringeag1e

The Man in Apartment 43 by @talesmaniac89

Home to You by @smol-and-grumpy

Legally Yours by @smol-and-grumpy

The Arrangement by @supernotnatural2005

Smoke Eater by @zepskies

[deansbeer]

little help goes a long way ・ DEAN WINCHESTER. ៸៸៸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ♡ pinned library

eighteen plus. minors do NOT interact.

SYNOPSIS. where you accidentally give dean a hard on during a hunt.

WARNING(S). sexual tension | fem!reader | strong language | sex innuendos | implied smut.

KARI NOTES. he's been running on my mind all day and i needed to let my thoughts run wild. so have fun readin' — you'll def thank me later!

satiated desire

the hunt had taken an unexpected turn, leaving you and dean pressed up against each other, your back flush against his chest. you shifted slightly, trying to get a better vantage point, when you felt dean's grip tighten on your hips, holding you in place.

"dean—" you began to ask, but the words died on your lips as you felt something hard pressing against you from behind. your eyes widened in realization, heat creeping up your face.

"shit, sweetheart, i'm so sorry," dean murmured, his voice strained. "i didn't mean for that to happen."

you whisper to dean in his ear, "we'll deal with this after the hunt, okay?"

he nodded mutely, your heart racing, already imagining ways to help him with his... situation. a small smile plays on your lips as he replied, "you're the best," he murmurs, hearing the mix of relief and anticipation in his voice.

"of course, dean. i've got you."

dean let out a shaky breath, his grip on your hips tightening ever so slightly.

with that, the two of you turned your focus back to the hunt, both eagerly awaiting the chance to properly address the growing tension between you.

[mariswxt]

libidinal

If Dean could curse every witch on this planet for dosing you and him with an aphrodisiac after ganking them, he would. His entire body was on fire— burning, and his mind was embarrassingly stuck on you. You, your thighs, lips, your ass. It all rattled about in his head like a broken record, and he craved you, craved the relief like crazy.

He knew that you were feeling the same things he was right now, the ache, burn, relentless want that you just couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. Ugh, you needed him. Like you’d die if you didn’t have him. Dean felt the same damn way — trust him — like one touch and he’d break the damn best friend code of conduct.

You’d think both of you would have more control of yourselves, considering how you were both hunters who’d faced stuff like vampires and shit. "This is gettin’ on my nerves, sweetheart," he scoffed, eyes fluttering up and down you. You were too hot for this world— and that wasn’t just the pollen talking, but his drugged up mind couldn’t stop.

"Fuck this." he slowly took off his sweat-soaked shirt, looking for signs that you’d jump him. Dean rubbed the sweat off his chest, having no damn right to look that jacked and edible right now, ugh. He can't take all of this crap, including being quarantined in this damn motel room by Sam. It’s for a reason, though.

He groaned, aching, desperate, gesturing for you to keep away so he could resist this damned pollen’s effects. "Oh, m’ gonna kill Sammy if he doesn’t find a cure for this stat." Dean covered his ears, yeah, no. He acted as if covering his ears and blocking out all noise would stop the ache for you, well, it sure didn’t.

Pacing back and forth, he took one look at you— nope, look away, you looked too hot, nope. "Yeah, I’ll kill him." He winced when he got a very R-rated image in his head— he was desperate for you, you, for some relief, mainly sex.

He felt like every second without his hands on your ass was torture— he hoped he wouldn’t go to hell.

“Oh, I’m fine.” You breathed, sarcastic, giving him a look with raised eyebrows. “Just — you know — feeling like my body’s burning alive, I’m sweatin’, my brain hurts.” Your eyes were hungrily searching his bare chest, biting your lip— no, stop, even if you felt on fire and were sweating buckets.

“You’re clearly not,” he retorted. He would’ve found it funny that you were checking him out, but the need was so overwhelming, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from throwing you onto the nearest surface.

“So… no need to be sarcastic. M’ just trying to control myself.” He muttered under his breath, crossing his arms and keeping the distance between you. “Can’t say the same for you though, sweetheart, ‘cause I can see ya gawkin’.”

“Yeah, just quit it, you look like a five star buffet. A girl can’t help herself when she’s drugged up on an aphrodisiac.” You groaned, dabbing your sweaty-ass neck with a towel, not able to help the way your eyes hungrily drank in his chest. “I’m makin’ do with the view I’ve got while my pussy’s yellin’ at me right now.”

“Christ, darlin’.” He muttered. He felt all fuzzy inside when you said that, he hated how hungry the damn pollen made him for you, for your body. Dean’s eyes darkened, taking in the way you kept looking at him, how you were yearning for him like he was with you. His fingers gripped on the chair he was sitting on, and he leaned forward— he needed to stay on the damn chair.

“And what kinda things is it tellin’ you, hm?” He asked, voice lowering, growling almost. His cock was telling him to go over there, moan in your ear as he thrusted into you, that’s what— but he had to deny himself of such luxurious pleasures. How great.

“To throw away all sense of modern feminism and let you fuck me hard on the floor.” You breathed, moaning softly at getting the words out. “Or letting you bend me over the table. Eat me out on the bed, take me from behind on said bed.” Another desperate moan.

Shit.

Dean almost groaned out loud, damn you. You were going to be the death of him. He was so damn hard right now, and he gripped even tighter on the chair, he would break it if he wasn’t careful.

“Sweet girl, I know you’re not talkin' about feminism when you got your hungry eyes all over me right damn now.” He bit out, clenching his jaw. Dean couldn’t help the fantasies that were running through his mind, especially when you let those moans out.

“I know.” You murmured, nodding, levelling the playing field and taking your shirt off too, leaning back against the bed’s headboard. Shit. Your skin that glistened with sweat, glowing more in the shitty motel light, tits now on display for his hungry-ass eyes. Your head tipped back, eyebrows pinched together tight, lips parted ever so slightly. Shit.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, eyes drinking in that perfect body of yours like a man who hadn’t had a drop of water in years. He’d seen you in a bikini before and almost lost it, but this view, this view was a sight for sore eyes. One that he was now staring at shamelessly.

His mouth hung agape as his eyes traveled from your chest to your face, he was desperate — all for you. “What’re you gettin’ at?” He asked, voice low and ragged.

“That I’m hot too. A woman can exist with her shirt off.” You scoffed, thighs rubbing together for any friction. C’mon, fuck, you got nothing— guess Dean’s cock was the answer, but not fucking your friend was the first cardinal rule of maintaining a best-friendship. “Oh, I’m gonna kill those witches even if they’re in the afterlife. I—” You let out a small whimper of frustration, the ache building. “God damn.”

“Damn right you’re hot, sweetheart.” he muttered, eyes locked to your thighs, practically drooling— maybe he wasn’t talking about the heat both of you were burning under. Dean’s tongue darted out and wet his dry lips, watching you as you rubbed your thighs against one another for friction. Damn it, it should be him being that friction, if that even made sense— he didn’t know, his brain was sludge. “I know, baby girl, m’ feelin’ what you are, I get it.”

He wanted to reach out and touch you so bad, but he had to get a grip. Sam could come back with a cure— maybe. Could he wait that long? Probably not.

You, however, simply did not have the patience nor the fucks to deal with Sam and his annoying lateness— you needed your best friend, he needed you, you had two holes he could put his dick into — you weren’t doing ass stuff on the first fuck — so it’s a win-win. “Dean, fuck this cure.” You whined, breath hitching as you yanked your sweats down, panties going with, pussy leaking and aching and so very empty. “Can’t wait, I can’t— c’mere. Fuck me, c’mere.”

Ok— yeah— yes, ma’am.

The sight had his eyes getting dark, nearly feral as he quickly stood up from his chair. The chair fell backwards and made a loud thud against the floor, but he couldn’t care less— not when you looked so damn delectable on the bed in front of him. Dean took quick steps towards you, practically ripping off the rest of his shirt.

He kneeled on the bed in front of you, practically pinning you to the bed. He couldn’t help himself. “M’ here, I’m here. Tell me what you want.” He huffed out, hips already bucking against the bed, moaning at the friction as he kissed over your bare tits and up your neck, licking up your neck, sweat on his tongue— yes, it’s disgusting, but he’d ponder on that in retrospect, right now he felt like an animal.

You guided his hand between your legs then kissed him, hotly, hungry, your lips devouring his, hand on the back of his head keeping him there. It was like a dam had broken, your breath harsh and heavy against his lips.

He grunted into the kiss, eyes slipping shut against the onslaught of your lips against his. His hand easily found its way down to you, the second you pushed him where you wanted him. God, his hand ached to be between your thighs.

“M’ here,” he breathed in between hot kisses. “M’ here, sweetheart, I gotcha.” The words were muffled, breathless, as he pushed your thighs apart, finding your wetness, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head. God, he was starved for you, as you were for him, it felt frantic, hazy, like relief that he was finally touching your skin that would go away instantly, as it wasn’t enough. Your scent had his eyes actually rolling back for a second, a pant and a whine leaving his mouth in quick succession as his free hand pushed sweaty hair out of your face, his own spiky from your hand running through it.

He ground his cock against the bed, feeling himself leaking — as were you — and these touches alone honestly had him feeling like he could embarrass himself right here, and come in his pants like a teenager before even getting the chance to fuck you properly.

You nodded against his lips, practically gone and inattentive to anything but him, leaning more of your body weight back against the headboard and pulling — yanking — him with you, panting, desperate. “Need you, baby, please.”

Oh, he needed you too, baby girl.

“Need you too, gorgeous.” he panted, letting you push him around between your legs and wiping sweat off his forehead briefly, wiping that hand on the sheets— shit, that left a pretty dark mark. He bit down on your bottom lip, groaning into the kiss. God, you looked so pretty, so needy and desperate, and you were all for him. He needed to mark you in some way, make you his in every possible way. He needed to.

“You need me inside this pretty pussy, baby?” He asked, his hand already gliding over your slickness, his eyes locked on yours. His fingers pushed inside you, a moan leaving both your mouths as he felt the lack of resistance on your cunt’s part, and how it sucked his fingers in — fuck, you were tight — and he worked your bra off so he could suck and flick his tongue against your nipples one at a time, moaning against the softness of your tits— mmh, that felt so good.

You nodded frantically, cause fuck yeah, moaning, lips still pressed to his as the pressure had you whimpering in relief. “Yes— yes, baby, d-don’t you stop, ok? God, feels so good.”

“I won’t, wasn’t plannin’ on it, baby doll.” he grumbled against your lips. He didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon, not when you felt this good around his fingers, when you sounded so damn pretty.

“Christ, I need you.” His words were nearly a whisper as he pushed down his jeans and boxers. He was so hard, so desperate for you, that he couldn’t hold back anymore. “You ready, baby?” Well, he certainly was, let’s put it that way. He’d been grinding on the bed the whole time he was on top of you.

“So ready.” You nodded, kissing him desperately, hotly again, panting, whimpering, the works. God, you felt like you were on fire, like it wouldn’t stop until you had him— it felt almost primal. Why wouldn’t you be ready, though? You weren’t a woman if you didn’t get soaked for Dean Winchester.

“M’ gonna take care of you, baby girl, I will.” He muttered against your lips, taking deep breaths. The words came out in a near growl and a grunt, he was hungry for you, starved, so he’d let you kiss him breathless, and he’d kiss you back just as fiercely as you.

He needed to give you the relief you needed, the pleasure, the release. He still rubbed at your pussy, all while he continued kissing you, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

You moaned against his lips, nails raking down his back, leg hooking over his hip— fuck the cure, fuck Sammy (though the poor guy deserves more credit), you just needed this right now, you felt like you could explode. Spontaneously combust. Lit match to gasoline. “God, don’t wait.”

“I won’t wait. Not anymore.” He grunted as he felt your nails dig into his skin, and your legs wrapped around him. He was so desperate to be inside you, and the sight of you just beneath him, the sounds coming out of your mouth, they just made him throb.

“I got you, I’m gonna take care of you baby doll, m’ gonna take care of you real good.” He panted against your neck, biting down on the skin as he slid into you, his mouth dropping open at the pure relief.

Your head fell back, a long, drawn moan leaving your mouth— you swore it felt like a cooling balm had been slapped on your bodies, or ice cold water. It just felt like a splash of pure relief, and you couldn’t stop chasing it, it felt like euphoria. “Shitfuck.”

“Oh, god,” he groaned, groaned, eyes squeezed shut. He hadn’t felt relief like this in so long, and your moans were like a damn symphony to his ears. He nearly felt like he was in heaven, that you were an angel.

“You’re so perfect — perfect.” He panted against your skin, placing kisses against your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder, as he found a pace. “Feels so good, darlin’, good girl.” It took all the effort in the world for him to not just lose himself and start pounding into you, just to say.

Good girl? You could’ve come right there. Squirted, even.

But no. Your leg hitched higher on his hip, clutching at his shoulder and at the headboard, your forehead pinched, eyes closed as you just felt it, couldn’t stop feeling, desperately letting shameless moans slip past your lips— as if you could control those.

“Yeah, that’s it — give it to me, baby.” he panted, his eyes taking in the sight of you, how you were falling apart. “Take it, take it all, just let me do all the work, yeah, good girl.” One of his hands trailed down your body, to the back of your thigh, holding it up, using it as leverage to push into you.

He wouldn’t last long, he couldn’t. Not with the sounds coming out of your mouth, the way you looked. “You’re so damn pretty when you give it up, baby.”

“Dean,” You couldn’t help but moan, over and over, paired with the occasional shameless “yes”, eventually bringing him in for a hungry, sloppy kiss, feeling the pendant on his necklace cool against your skin.

“Ah—” he groaned against your lips, his kisses almost violent, more teeth than tongue than anything else. God, his name on your pretty lips was sinful, but he wanted to hear it again and again.

His hands continued to touch you everywhere they could, not missing a curve or angle, and just taking in the pure ecstasy of it all. “You look so perfect like this — all for me.” he panted against you, the coolness of the amulet was almost refreshing against his over-heated skin, he’ll had to admit, and seeing it between your tits? God, another bonus.

Ooh, an idea. You used your leg hooked around his waist, plus some hunter training, rolling you both over, immediately gripping the shitty-ass fabric and plush of the pillow so you could begin to move up and down, hitting that angle without missing a beat. “Sh—Shit.”

Oh, oh wow, he had to take a few deep breaths. He didn’t expect you to suddenly roll the two of you over but he certainly wasn’t complaining. You looked so damn perfect on top of him, like a goddamn dream. He gripped onto your hips, helping you move, a moan leaving his lips as you kept up the pace.

“That’s it baby doll, good girl—“ he couldn’t help but babble. “Can’t keep my hands off you.” He panted, staring up at you. “Doing all the work, look at you— I ain’t gonna last, sweetheart, please tell me you’re almost there.”

“M’ almost there.” The sentence came out as a moan, seeing him in his glory, amulet on his chest, all ridges of muscle and soft skin, your other hand gripping the headboard as you moved, assisted by his hands on your hips, calloused pads of his fingers pressing into your skin. “P—Please, baby, a—almost there, so, so close—”

“Just— just come with me, please— please—” He panted, his hands gripping your hips so tight, he knew that he’d leave marks, but he’d deal with it later. Right at that moment, he was just lost in the feeling.

“Come on, give it to me, baby, I wanna see it, wanna feel it.” He was desperate, but a gentleman, he wanted you to reach it first. You were absolutely too gorgeous for words, and he was nearly going feral— his mouth went dry. “Good girl, good girl, good girl, c’mon — oh, c’mon—”

The coil in your stomach snapped as you came, pure, unbridled euphoria and uninhibited ecstasy, your eyes rolling back, hips stuttering and pressing into his hands as your thighs shook, but you kept on to get him there. “O-Oh, baby, c-c’mon, Dean, please— please—”

Sweet mother of god.

Your voice, your movements, your face, it all just pushed him over that final edge, and a loud moan tore out of his throat as he rode it out. “God, baby doll, god—” was all he could manage.

He didn’t even realise his eyes fluttered shut. He was panting heavily, his chest rising and falling, the amulet resting gently between his pectorals. “Oh god, baby girl, c’mere— come here.” He muttered, hands gripping your hips, pulling you down. He just wanted to feel you against him— wait, what? The burn wasn’t going, it just wasn’t.

“Dean.” You whined, letting out a frustrated moan. “S’wasn’t enough, I can still feel it. Still feel it, baby.” You panted, keeping yourself up. Well, of course this thing wasn’t a one-and-done. You already broke all the cardinal rules of friendship without compunction, but now you had to do it again? Wow. Great going.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” He breathed, eyes opening, and looking up at you, the corners of his lips slightly turned up. He could feel it too, it was like something was missing, and he didn’t know what it was.

He pulled you down, and held you against his chest as he caught his breath. One of his hands moved to the side of your face, and he gently guided you into a soft kiss, the other hand moving down and squeezing your ass. “God, I need you so goddamn much.”

“Mhmm. Need you too.” You whined, your kisses becoming more insistent, needier— ok, don’t blame you, it seems to affect women more. “Can you— need you t’ take over, Dean.”

A small smirk appeared on his lips as you began to become more needy. “Don’t mind if I do, sweetheart.” He growled against your lips. He pushed you off of him, and rolled the two of you over, so you were now beneath him again, and his body was above yours.

“You want me to take over, huh?” He questioned, his lips moving to your neck, leaving nips and open-mouthed kisses over the skin. “You want me to take care of you?” His hips started snapping against you, a groan leaving his lips, cause oh, Jesus.

Woah, ok, you could get used to this. Especially with how you moaned, nodding desperately, leaving red marks on his shoulders and arms, his amulet touching the valley of your now bouncing tits with every thrust again, head tipping back as his cock brushed your cervix, hearing his grunts and pants in your ear mixed with your moans.

He couldn’t help the smirk that stayed on his lips as you clawed at his skin. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you? You like it when I take care of you?” He questioned, his mouth against your neck, his hips snapping against you, desperate to hear the pretty sounds leaving your lips.

“Tell me how much you like it, baby girl, go on.” His words were punctuated by a sharp bite to your shoulder, the other hand gripping your hip.

“Love it, Dean, fuck.” You gasped, your eyes rolling back, the knot in your stomach coming faster this time, scratching at his hips, the hot-ass dip in his back— anything you could reach, really, you weren’t picky.

“That’s it baby girl, there you go—“ he panted, his hips thrusting against yours, just pushing you closer and closer, his mouth against your skin still, leaving open-mouthed kisses and harsh bites.

The sounds you were making were just pushing him closer and closer, he was just desperate for you, and he couldn’t control the words that blurted out of his mouth. “God, you look so damn perfect baby, so damn pretty, so much better than I ever dreamed—“ Sure, he just revealed that he’d thought about this, but he still put your legs over his shoulders, leaning forward, splitting you in half and thrusting into you.

The new angle made your mouth fall open in a perfect ‘o’, and the feeling just overwhelmed your brain, made your body go positively wild, and you could swear some drool dribbled from the corner of your mouth. “D-Dean—”

Christ, he’s never seen anything so pretty.

He groaned as he took in the sight of you, your legs over his shoulders. “You like that, huh? You like it when I—“ his words were cut off with a strangled moan, you were just so perfect, he was never going to be able to get enough.

He managed to make a few more noises, some of them resembling your name, before he just dropped his forehead to your shoulder. “Baby— baby, need to come again in you, can I?“

You made a noise that sounded like a moaned yes, and you’d never known that being split in half by a guy would ever feel this good, your hands braced on the underside of your thighs. Well, that was a confirmation.

He groaned as he felt you nod against his shoulder, words being lost on him after that. That was a yes, a good, proper yes. He didn’t even know what he was saying, all that he knew was that he needed to give you it. So he just gave it to you hard, and fast, not letting up an inch. “Good girl, good girl, you’re doing so good, taking it so well, baby doll—” all the while, he panted against your skin.

He groaned against your skin, his mouth pressed to your shoulder. Hearing that, feeling you around him, he was done for, he was gone— “Yeah, baby, oh, you’re so good, so good, feels so damn good, I’m coming baby, I’m gonna—“

He let out a strangled moan, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as he rode it out, burying his face into the crook of your neck, panting, grunting, smoothing your hair back as he spilled into you with a low moan.

You stroked his hair, helping him come down from it, feeling tired out— I mean, at least the pollen’s fucked out, right? Just… you hated witches now. You get Dean’s point— you didn’t before, but now you do.

He let out a weary groan, breathing still laboured and his skin was still flushed. When he came to and registered that you were stroking his hair, he let his head fall onto your chest, his head against your tits. Mm, like a pillow, feels s’nice.

“God, that was intense.” He whispered against your skin. “You okay, sweetheart?” He was spent, absolutely boneless and limp, and just content to lay there and bask in the aftermath of what you’d just done.

“Better than before.” You breathed, nodding, rubbing your cheek. “S’ not as sore as I thought it’d be, if I’m bein’ honest. But now I get why you hate witches.”

He let out a chuckle, which just sounds more like a quiet scoff, and he lifted his head up to look at you, a slight smirk on his lips. “Oh yeah? You get it now, huh?” His head returned to its original position after a few moments, and he nuzzled against you, an arm wrapping around your waist. “Not sore, huh? I didn’t go too hard on ya, did I?”

“No, but, uh…” You grinned cheekily. “Being carried to the bath would be much appreciated.” Oh, the little shit.

Of course.

He lifted his head to look at you, an entertained and amused look on his face. “Oh, you’re gonna be real cute, aren’t you?” He questioned, and then in a quick movement, he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you against his chest.

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@cheynovak

special tags for my boos: @jasvtsc @deanswidow @beausling @titsout4nicholas @figthoughts

@deansbite

[supernaturalfreewill]

"If getting my shit absolutely rocked by a monster is what it takes to get you in my bed, it was definitely worth it," Dean murmured, his bleary green eyes fixed on your face. You lifted the cloth you were using to dab at the wound near his hairline.

"I'm not sure sitting on the edge of the bed counts," you said with a small smile.

"Hey—I'll fucking take what I can get," he said softly, his eyes closing.

You drank in the sight of him and sighed. "You really scared us. That was stupid," you scolded him, but there was no bite in your voice.

His eyes opened again and searched your face, took in the soft pout on your lips. "You have no idea how stupid I can be," he quipped.

You couldn't help a low laugh. "Yeah, I do. And I'm still here. So, shut up and rest."

"You're staying here tonight?" he asked hopefully.

You nodded. "Yeah. Sam made up the couch for me."

"The couch? That's so far," he objected. "Why sleep on the couch when I have a perfectly available and delightfully comfortable spot right here next to me?"

You smiled and relented. "Fine. But keep your hands to yourself, and don't hog the blankets," you said.

"I'll do my best. But I'm not responsible for what happens when I'm concussed and/or asleep..."

Prompt: "You have no idea how stupid I can be." / "Yeah, I do. And I'm still here."

[stargazedwinchester]

ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `steady hands, dean winchester

Summary: You help Dean overcome a panic attack. Word Count: 739

“Shit!” you scream as the vengeful spirit dashes you across the room, thrashing your head on the plasterboard, causing you to tumble onto the floor. You’re weak, your whole body shaking beneath you. The spirit approaches you, its face full of distress and misery. Heart racing, he reaches toward your chest and plunges his hand toward your ribs, making you cry out in pain.

Where the fuck are Sam and Dean?

-

Dean has a gut feeling that something terrible is about to happen. Adrenaline rushes through his head as they finally burn the ghost’s body, which had been terrorizing the new residents. Dean knew to get back to you.

As soon as the match greets the gasoline, Dean shoots off to the Impala, Sam hurrying behind him.

-

You lie there, half unconscious. You hear footsteps approaching you with muffled voices. “Y/N?” Dean kneels before you, his hands on your shoulders. He lifts you up so you’re sitting with your back against the wall. You hiss in pain. The damage that the ghost has done felt irreparable. Dean sits at your level, his eyes complete with panic and anxiety. “Y/N?” He begs, noticing you’re trying your damndest to respond, hell, trying to stay awake. He taps your cheek, gaining your attention. “Baby, please…” He calls, his voice cracking slightly. Sam paces behind him, his phone pressed to his ear. Your feet feel like static, a million little needles travelling up your legs, numbing your whole body. Everything goes dark. “Sammy, she’s not responding!” Dean frets, his cheeks burning bright red with fear of losing you. He scrambles through the inner pockets of his jacket, searching for his flask. He twists open the bottle and pours a small amount of holy water over your face. It’s cold enough for you to regain consciousness, and your eyes meet his perturbed ones. Dean takes a tremendous sigh of relief, sitting fully on the floor, his hands covering his eyes as he goes to lie flat on his back.

Sam insists on leaving the room to give you both some space. He was worried about your health, of course, so Bobby was talking him through on what to do to help you gain consciousness again. It takes you a little bit of time to come around, and you lock eyes with Dean, who’s now sitting up watching you with wide, cautious eyes. He seems stiff, like he’s paralysed with consternation. You’re winded, but it doesn’t stop you from crawling over to Dean, who looks like he’s struggling to breathe. “Dean?” You call him softly, and he just glances at you before staring down at the floor. “You okay?” You run a hand through his hair. He gulps.

“I almost lost you,” his voice breaks. His whole body visibly shaking from terror. Dean’s breathing becomes more apparent. Uncontrollable. Dean has suffered irreplaceable losses. He wasn’t careful enough when it came to you.

“Dean, baby, listen to me.” You instruct. “I’m okay, I’m just winded. I’m not hurt. Okay?” Dean doesn’t respond, so you place yourself right next to him, rubbing his back. “I want you to try something with me,” you soothe him, and he hardly nods. “Take a deep, slow breath in through your nose, then out through your mouth, baby. Ready?” You attempt to show him how to calm himself down. His shaky breaths break your heart seeing him so vulnerable and upset. You repeat this process a few more times, rubbing his back for reassurance. “I’m here, Dean. You’re okay.” You lull, using your opposite hand to cup his face and place a kiss on his cheek. He looks over at you, and you’re smiling at him with comfort, hoping that he knows that when he struggles, he’s not alone. That you’ll always be by his side, no matter what.

“I love you.” Dean makes out, and you nod in agreement. “I love you too.” You place a long kiss on his temple. He huffs with relief before standing up, grabbing both of your hands and helping you up too. He opens his arms to engulf you in a hug, and you don’t hesitate to wrap yourself around him, inhaling his scent and feeling completely at ease when you touch. Dean plants a kiss atop your head, his hand scrunched in your hair. His grip indicates he’s not ready to let you go.

He never wants to let you go.

[pearlzier]

︵︵ DAY THREE ﹐ MIRROR SEX ☆

ᰍִ ꒰ KINKTOBER. ִ✧ㅤㅤ masterlist.

WARNINGS .ᐣ mirror sex. pwp. dirty talk. kinda mean!dean. afab!reader. p in v. dean doesn't pull out, dean cums in reader LMFAO.

NOTES .ᐣ uhhh what do u guys think of the layout, do u like it??? :3 tried somethin new!!!

"Y'CAN KEEP WHININ' ALL Y'WANT, but i told you to keep your eyes on the mirror, didn't i?" you whine and whimper when you feel dean's thrusts come to a stop. he'd been pistoning his hips against yours roughly, bucking them against your ass as his cock slid in and out of you in a steady pace. he would've kept going, if only you could just follow instructions and keep looking at yourself. he wanted you to see how good he could wreck you, make you a fuzzy mess by the time he was done.

and he couldn't make that point if you weren't even looking at yourself, could he? "s'not that hard to listen to me," he mutters, scoffing at the fact being full made you incapable of thinking properly. you let out a pathetic sound as his hand slides over your shoulder to grasp your jaw, your lips parting instantly with the squeeze and flex of his fingers that follows. it draws your attention up to the mirror and your eyes meet his green ones through the glass.

you look like a mess, hair mussed from being grabbed and tugged on by his hands—your legs trembling from having to hold yourself up. you don't have to worry about that one for much longer however, he's practically holding you up with his other hand whilst the other grasps at your jaw. "but, it's embarrassing—" you try to protest, voice whiny and weak. dean's eyes only darken more at that, and a soft smirk finds its way onto his lips.

"embarassin'?" he tuts quietly, thumb tracing over your bottom lip before he pulls on it a little and tugs it down, his head tilting. leaning his head in closer, he murmurs, "could make this a lot more embarassin' for you, baby, so i'd listen if i were you." forcing your head up, he coos, "that's better, let me see those pretty eyes. that's it." he thinks you look perfect like this, a mess because of him.

you scoff quietly, bottom lip trembling a little. your cunt clenches around nothing needily, missing the feel of him inside you. "mmh, i'm looking now, happy?" dean hums behind you, biting back a full on grin knowing you can see him in the mirror now that you're looking up. he rolls his shoulders in a shrug, lining himself back up with your cunt and sliding back inside with relative ease. you take him with no resistance, having grown used to being stuffed full of him.

"real happy," dean murmurs with a little roll of his hips, dragging his cock down your walls before pushing back up again. he repeats this a little, feeling your arousal start to drip down the length of him. with how he's propped the mirror up and how he's got the two of you positioned, he can see the way the head of his cock breaches your hole when he pulls back only to be buried to the hilt when he thrusts forward again. "looks like i ain't the only one," he grunts, shifting a little closer so the back of your thighs are flush against the front of his own.

all you can think, hear, see, is dean. he's right behind you, his hands are on you. he'd moved his hand from your jaw to grasp at your hips, so he could gain the leverage he needed to pound into you. you would've closed your eyes and felt the pleasure if it wasn't for the fact he'd stop if you weren't looking. now, you have to focus on the way his biceps flex from the pressure of holding you up or listen to the way he grunts and growls with every rock of his body up into yours.

it's embarassing for you, the way you whine and make loud noises because his dick is ramming into you and making your legs tremble. with ease, his hand slips down to circle your clit. "actin' like you don't get off on lookin' like a whore," he murmurs quietly, seeing the way you immediately squeal at the touch. you can't deny the fact you're just as into his as he is. even if using a mirror was completely his idea, you'd loved it from the moment he'd even brought it up once. needless to say, you didn't need much convincing to be bent over like this.

even still, you don't want to admit it. because that'll give him serious satisfaction to know that you like this as much as he does. the embarassment isn't all that awful, if anything, it makes you clench around him and coat his shaft with your juices. "i do—don't," you mumble, despite the fact you're sure you're about to cum from his movements and touches to your clit. he's practically drilling into you, considering the fact you hadn't looked away from the mirror for a whole now.

"yeah? you don't?" he asks, brow furrowing. he knows full well you're lying, because one, you're a shit liar when it comes to dean, and two, he can call your bluff from how you've been whining his name this whole time.

he reaches a hand out, leaving the one on your clit to continue circling and applying pressure to the bundle of nerves whilst the other grasps at your hair to tilt your head down to look further down at yourself in the mirror. it's a mixture of mess on your thighs, his pre-cum having oozed down the inside of the flesh and mixed with your wetness. your eyes widen a little and once again, you clench around him making him groan. "thinkin' y'can lie to me," for that, he only picks up the brutal pace further, the sound of skin against skin getting louder and practically bouncing off the thin walls of the motel.

the people in the other room can most definitely hear the two of you, but neither of you could, or would actually care. both of you are so close, he's sure he only needs a couple more strokes inside you 'til he's painting your thighs white with his cum—and you're sure you only need a few more thrusts till you're making a mess on him. "dean, nngh, oh.." and besides, you'd been relatively good for him this entire time, you're sure he won't make you hold off on your climax like he usually does when you've been acting up.

he's panting as he speaks, "look at yourself, baby," his hand moving off your clit whilst the other moves from your head to grasp at your hips again and drag you back down on him to meet his thrusts. "c'mon, that's it, look at yourself. lookin' so pretty takin' my cock like that. so warm, could stay here forever," you know he's close from how he keeps talking, needs to focus his mind on anything other than how his body tenses with the impending release.

"feels so good, looks so good," his hum that follows your words is a self assured sound. he knows how good it feels, looks, he gets to see you like this everytime he fucks you. but he's glad you get to see just how pretty you are when you're on the verge of climax like this. so, so pretty, whimpering and begging for him to go harder and make you cum. "gonna.. fuck, gonna come," you stammer, unable to hold off any longer. "can i? ca—can.. please," dean can't help but smile when you ask for permission like that, and he nods.

"yeah, sweetheart, go on," his eyes shut for a moment, breaking a rule he'd set for you. but really, neither of you care at the moment. you're both far too distracted at the moment to be paying attention to whether rules are being followed. "want you to watch how you look when you gush on my dick though, can you do that for me? for me?" he asks, his own tone the faintest bit begging. dean doesn't whine, or beg, don't get him wrong, but to watch you watch yourself as you come around him would get him that little bit over the edge.

"mmh, yeah, yeah—shit, nnh, like that.. gonna.." you gasp, thighs trembling and shaking as you have to grasp at the mirror to steady yourself. quickly, your eyes dart upwards to the glass to watch yourself too and you let out the prettiest moan at the sight. so fucked out, so dishevelled and messy. it's a perfect look on you. dean knows it too, he's grunting and growling the moment you lock eyes with yourself and eventually his thrusts start to stutter and become uneven.

"come with me, dean, please," you don't have ask twice, he's burying his head by the crook of your neck and biting, muffling his sounds as he rocks his hips forward that little bit more and gets over the edge. a warmth floods you, both from your orgasm and his own, and you feel so warm, his cock pulsing as his cum oozes out and fills you. the two of you stay like that for a moment, and you finally get to close your eyes, feeling the bliss and pleasure.

you hear a quiet murmur of his voice muffled against your skin, and you shift a little, his softening length still inside of you. "i said," dean speaks up a little, "we gotta do that again," and he means it. god, he'd do it again and again just to see the way you reacted to seeing yourself ruined by him. honestly? he was ready to go again right now.

ִ ֹ ★ @blue-d, @gibson-g1rl , @stevelacylovebot, @psychicnatural , @funkycoloured, @lovesickgrlsrh0t, @soldierboycunt, @hrtsoldierboy, @beetlejenna, @venusiers , @v3nusasagrl , @imwetforyourmom, @pr3ttyf4wn, @pillwebb, @beridollie, @sl33pylilbunny , @sincerebabydoll, @angelicjackles, @deansbite, @beausling, @jasvtsc, @mattsdolll, @angelicp0etry, @cherrynflowergarden, @goofygooberspidey, @spookyysinsanity, @chrissdollie, @mgchaser, @yummycement, @gxldenlush, @morganwrites12672, @dayzeandhaze, @fallbhind, @jackleslvr. ꒱

[hanaridulsetcheese]

dancing with dean

You walk out into the main room of the bunker after taking a steaming hot shower, hair was slightly damp and you were in a tank top and shorts, the usual get up.

You were on your way to the kitchen to get something to drink when you pass Dean in the main room.

"Hey, you're up late. " Dean follows you and sits at the kitchen table as you opened up the fridge to get water.

"Just took an everything shower, I need some hydration. "

Dean watches, his eyes roaming over your body in your tank top and shorts. He can't help but let his gaze linger on your curves before quickly looking away, clearing his throat as he tries to maintain a casual demeanor.

"Water, huh? Not exactly the typical drink around here. " he teased lightly, his lips curving into a small smirk. You chuckle at take a seat opposite him.

"So an 'everything shower'? Sounds like you scrubbed yourself from head to toe," he teased, his eyes still lingering on you for a moment before he looked away.

"That's basically what it is. I'm as fresh as a daisy now. " you nod.

"Fresh as a daisy, huh?" he repeated, a small smile playing on his lips. "But what exactly makes that different from a regular shower. "

"You don't know what an everything shower is? " you fake offence. "It's something every girl does at least once every two weeks. Extensive hair care, body washes, personally this is the time I get to use my expensive washes, a little luxury I get to have after all the hunting. "

He raised an eyebrow, a look of mock surprise on his face. "Sounds like a pain in the ass if you ask me. " he teased, taking a swig of his beer. "Seems like a hell of a lot of work just to get clean," he continued, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "But hey, I get it. You girls need your little luxuries.

"I'm so clean, I smell like a cupcake, smell. " you lean across the table to let Dean smell you.

He lets out a hearty laugh, his green eyes glinting in the dim light from the moon. The scent of your freshly washed skin filling his lungs as you leaned across the table. His eyes met yours, lingering for a moment, "You really do smell good," he admitted, a genuine smile on his face. "Like a damn cupcake."

"Vanilla body wash and perfume. " you give him a proud nod. He laughs at your antics and opens up your water bottle without having to ask. It's a common thing amongst you two for him to do things like this unconsciously.

It was instinct for him, opening the bottle for you. He didn't even realize he did it half the time, it had become so second nature. But he liked doing it, making things just a little bit easier for you.

"I like it," he replied with a smile, watching as you take a sip of water.

"So, aside from smelling like a damn cupcake, what else does this 'everything shower' involve?" he teased, taking a swig of his beer.

"Depends on the person to be honest. It's just a way to relax and wash away the bad stuff from the week or whatever. It's therapeutic. "

He nods in understanding, a thoughtful look on his face. "Sounds like something Sammy would do, not me," he commented with a small chuckle but secretly he thought it sounded kind of nice. Being able to wash away the stress and tension of hunting sounded heavenly. But he'd never admit that, of course.

"Maybe I should give it a try sometime," he teased. "But don't expect me to smell like a cupcake afterwards. I've got my own unique scent. "

"Oh definitely. You would smell more like a pie. "

He chuckled at your response, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'd smell damn delicious. "

You chuckled and rolled your eyes at his teasing before you both fall into a comfortable silence. The hum of the refrigerator make you slowly hum along. Before you knew it you were humming 'Can't help falling in love' by Elvis Presley and Dean immediately a recognises it.

His heart skipped a beat as he looked up, his gaze immediately locking onto yours. He tried to keep his cool, but he couldn't help the way his heart thundered in his chest. "Elvis, huh?" he said casually, trying to keep his voice steady. "You know I love this song."

"I didn't even realise I was humming it. " you say shyly before getting an idea. "Stand up. "

His eyebrows raised in surprise at your sudden command. "Stand up? " he asked with a hint of amusement, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips but he obediently stood up, curious to see what you had in mind.

Taking the beer from his hand and setting it on the table you grab both his hands in yours. "We're going to dance. " you say, grinning up at him. You place one of his hands on your waist and intertwine your other hands.

"Dance? Me?" he teased, his voice filled with disbelief but as your slender fingers intertwined with his own, and he felt the warmth of your waist beneath his palm he agreed. "You know I can't dance," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "I'll probably step on your feet."

"Then you'll just have to trust that I'm a enough good dancer for the both of us or that I'm way worse than you. " you giggle taking a step back and Dean follows.

The movements were slow at first so they both of you get the hang of it. Dean lets out a quiet chuckle but concentrates on not stepping on your feat. Soon you get comfortable and dance around the kitchen slowly to non-existant music.

Dean followed your lead, his movements still a little clumsy at first but slowly, as you swayed together, his steps became more confident.

He could feel your body moving in sync with his, the warmth of your skin sending a thrill through him. He tried to keep his focus on not stepping on your feet, but the feel of you in his arms made it difficult to concentrate.

"You're a good enough dancer for the both of us, it seems," he murmured, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

"I supposed so. " you allow your head to rest on his shoulder, Dean places a gentle kiss atop your head before resting his own head on yours.

He held you tighter as you continued to sway together. It almost felt natural, dancing with you like this. A sense of peace washed over him, something he hadn't felt in a long while.

"Wise men say, only fools rush in... " you begin to sing and Dean follows along in his own unique and husky voice.

"But I can't help falling in love with you," he continued, his tone low and gravelly.

He pulled you even closer, his calloused hands now gently tracing small circles on your lower back. The sound of your voices intertwined in song filled the air, the lyrics echoing around the quiet kitchen.

That night, you and Dean spent dancing around the kitchen. The chaos of the world silenced for a moment leaving just the two of you alone. The moonlight streamed in like a spotlight for you, the refrigerator hummed giving you music. Your voice and his became one just as your hearts had done.

Every now and then, he would place a soft kiss on the top of your head, as if to remind himself that this moment was real.

[filmologetica]

BEHAVIOR — dean winchester

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader.

the one where: you and dean are trying your hardest to have sex but everyone seems to be against it.

warnings: +18. kind of smutty, language, fingering, blue balls king. english is not my first language and it’s 2am here so it might have some incorrect english i plan on checking later.

a/n: this was… something. i’m thinking about a part 2, let me know if you want it <3.

Dean didn’t know if anyone had ever died from blue balls, but if not, he could easily be the first.

Two weeks. It has been two weeks now that Dean and his girlfriend were trying to get some alone time, but it seemed impossible. Every time someone had something they forgot in the room they were heavily making out in and took too long to head out, killing the mood completely, or something urgent to talk to them, or something that needed to be done. Every damn time. And when they finally had time at night they were exhausted, completely worn out.

The tension was growing between them and they just couldn’t help it. They fought for every stupid reason, everything seeing to be extremely frustrating.

“Did you get the milk I asked you to yesterday?” Y/N’s voice was low. She was tired, frustrated and horny. More than that, she was fucking angry with the life she chose. Walking back to back killing monsters was fucking exhausting. She needed a break.

Everyday something new was getting on her nerves. Ghosts, demons, angels and even Lucifer himself. Jesus Christ, she had no more patience for anything.

“Shit, I forgot. Sorry, babe.” Dean was just as exhausted as her, but he was used to this life. What he was not used to was spending fourteen long days with zero sex.

Zero intimacy. Not even a lazy handjob. Of course he could take care of himself but once he was in a relationship - or sort of - he needed to be deep in the woman he craved. And oh, boy, he was craving her. Everything was enough to make his dick wake up and twitch inside his pants.

Every.

Single.

Thing

made him end up with a boner that he wished you would take care of but there was always something in the way.

Fourteen days. And counting.

“Fucking hell, Dean. Is it too much to ask for you to pay attention to the things I tell you?” You snapped, slamming your mug to the counter.

Sam looked up, rolling his eyes knowing very well you two were about to start another pointless argument. Dean wasn’t exactly helping his situation either, as he raised his voice. “If I pay attention to every single thing you talk about every day, there goes my whole day. You never shut up.”

“I’m really sorry. I forgot the only woman you’re capable of listening to are the stupid whores you fuck at every bar we step into.”

“Yeah, at least I can fuck them.”

“Fuck you, Dean.” Your mug was now forgotten in the counter as you marched out of the kitchen, your face red with anger. You knew Dean didn’t mean it. It has been like this for days now, just pointless arguments about nothing.

“Dude, just- Go talk to her.” It was almost like Sam was stuck in a loop all over again. That’s how he felt. He had now lost count of how many times he had said this exact same thing, the exact same way. “I’ll go buy the fucking milk.”

Sam had no idea what was happening. Your relationship with Dean was a secret and that was a deal that you both made until you figured out what it was. Of course sleeping together every night wasn’t exactly nothing but you agreed in taking things slow.

Dean entered your room without even knocking, closing the door behind him with a kick. “I can’t take it anymore, Y/N.” He sighed, letting his body fall in your bed. “I don’t want to keep fighting, I’m sorry. You know I listen to you, it’s just- It’s been too much.”

“It’s ok. I’m sorry about what I said. I just-” Dean looked at her, knowing exactly what she would say. “I miss you.”

“Yeah?” Tracing an invisible line at her exposed leg, Dean was taking his time feeling how soft her skin was.

“Yeah.”

“Mhmm.” His hand was now not so innocent, getting to her thighs still gently. The touch enough to make her shiver. “What are you missing?”

Opening her legs, Y/N exposed her delicate lingerie. It was red, and Dean could feel his mouth water with the sight. Her tiny lace panties were now making him rock hard. He could see your pussy clearly and he was ready to show you how much he missed it. “I miss you right here.” Your hands entered the fabric, touching your clit gently.

“God, I love it when you act like a cock slut.” Lifting your dress a little more, Dean was taking up the view. You never needed much to make him hard, but this was a whole different level. It was like he was drunk on your smell.

“I love it when you fuck me with your fingers.” You said and Dean now moved the fabric to the side, to get a clearer view, chewing on his bottom lip. “It feels so good when you ease me up with one finger because I’m so fucking tight for you…”

And just to make Dean lose his mind, you add one finger to your drabbling pussy. It took to much of him to not roll his eyes and come undone without even taking off his pants. “And when you add another one… God, feels so good, baby.” One more finger in, another growl from Dean out.

“I’m going to fuck you good. Make you remember what it feels like when I’m filling you up.” With your most innocent face you nodded, more like begging Dean to fuck you.

When you felt his lips on yours in an urgent kiss, it felt like you were dreaming. His tongue sliding into your mouth roughly while you ran your fingers through his hair desperately. Now, he was on top of you and you could feel his bulge.

You could feel his cock while his hips trusted into you trying to make him feel better even with his clothes still on. When your hand found his boner, using enough pressure on it, Dean moaned into your lips. “Fuck. I need to be inside you.”

And just when his hands found his belt, a knock was heard on the door. “No!” You cried.

Dean sighed, absolutely frustrated and hiding his face on the crook of your neck. “We can pretend there’s no one here. We put a pillow on your face and you make no sounds while I fuck you.”

You let out a quiet laugh, just as frustrated. “What if it’s important?”

“Y/N, this is important!” Dean was furious. Who wouldn’t be? He refused to add one more day to his blue balls count.

“Open up, guys!” Sam said loudly on the other side of the door.

“What the fuck does this guy want?” Dean got up while you adjusted your dress, trying your best to fix your hair quickly. “Yeah, Sam?”

As Dean opened the door, his face was definitely not friendly but it didn’t scare Sam, who entered the room and sat on the bed.

The bed you thought you were having sex seconds before. “We need to talk about your behavior.” He says.

“My what?” You ask and Dean rolls his eyes, thinking about hitting his head on the door a billion times to end his penalty.

“We’re gonna talk about what’s happening between you and Dean and solve this problem right now.”

“I don’t think that’s something you can fix, Sammy.” You wish you could punch him.

“Well, then I’m not leaving this room.”

And with that, Dean left to take a cold shower in his room after being cockblocked by Sam once again.

[writings-of-a-demigod]

"Something got you there anklebitter?"

Dean glanced at his younger sister from the review mirror, she was in the backseat moving too much just to find a good position to sleep in.

"I can't fall asleep and I'm too tired" she complained in a whiny voice like a small kid with a little frown.

Dean sighed he knew her like he knew the back of his hand there would be too much whining too much movement 'This will not end well' he said to himself.

Sam on the other side, he chuckled and closed his laptop "Pull over" he said to his older brother.

Dean gave him a look but did as he was told. Sam got out of the car, closed the door behind him, and then took off his jacket before opening the door to the backseat.

"Move" he said to his sister while sitting down and closing the door behind him. Dean looked in the mirror before moving the car on the road again

"Great! I call shotgun" Y/n jumped into the front seat.

"Hey!" Sam called from the backseat "I'm trying to help you sleep and you ditch me"

Y/n looked back at him while Dean was laughing at the whole situation, Y/n saw Sam lying on his back while his jacket was folded and used as a pillow under his head which was on the door and his long feet reached the other door on the opposite side "Now come on" he said to his little sister.

Y/n jumped back again and Sam told her to lay her head on his chest which she did and the rest of her body was on top of Sammy except her legs which were between Sam's long legs. She could hear his heartbeat while Sam rubbed her back to let her calm down then he started humming 'Hey Jude' In a few minutes Y/n's body was a little heavier and her breathing slowed down. Sam knew she had fallen asleep but he didn't stop rubbing her back and arm in circles.

Dean looked back at his siblings "Wow that really worked Sammy" he said in a low voice.

Sam just smiled in response and then looked at Y/n's sleeping form he knew exactly what to do to make her fall asleep no matter how old she gets she's still his baby sister.

-Gif belongs to @sonofagif

[spookyysinsanity]

dean winchester x fem!reader dating head canons -nsfw edition

not my gif!!^^

18+ only!!! minors dni!!!!!!!

loves fucking in front of mirrors. he likes to be behind you, holding u up by ur hair or neck and he can see your reflection.

goes craazzzyyyy when you moan his name

likes to pretty much fuck you stupid. like to the point ur shaking, can't walk, only can think of his dick and babbling his name

loves leaving marks on your body. like hickeys EVERYWHERE, on ur neck, chest, thighs, stomach, all of it.

likes it when you have lipstick on and kiss his neck

ONLY if you're ok with it, he loves to choke you. especially if you ask.

has a huge thing where he loves to pleasure you first

eats pussy like a man STARVED

especially if ur on his face he fucks that shit up

he's sososo good with his hands. like goooood. it doesn't matter where they are, in between ur legs, on your boobs, your face, neck, hair, whatever bro wherever he is he's doing a damn good job.

loves to send u dirty texts if you're doing research with him and sam. lovesss to watch you get all hot and bothered

loves to tease and play with you in baby. traffics bad? his hands r down your pants. or it's the other way around and you're sucking his dick

jus loves to fuck in(or on) baby idk bro

loves to come up behind you and press himself against you and start jus groping your ass or tits

also will come up behind you and kiss your neck/jaw and his hands will gently come up under ur shirt and trace your stomach and waist

a/n: ok that's all for now! please like and reblog if you liked it, let me know if u want more!

[sacr1ficialang3l]

I can handle me a dangerous man˚୨୧⋆｡ (no really I can)

OLDER!DEAN WINCHESTER X YOUNGER!READER (based on this)

SUMMARY: Mid 40s Dean is trying really hard to resist the temptation that you are, but you're making it really hard. 3.7k

WARNINGS smut (MDNI). oral f receiving. age gap. implied penetration.

NOTES: He is here! I am not very used to writing smut, so I tried my best. Can you tell that dilfs telling stories about their life is so hot to me? anyway, this was incredibly self-indulgent. As always, English is not my first language. Enjoy<3

It’s another night of you walking around the bunker in a tiny, white lace dress. Long legs visible, looking even longer because of the slight heel of your boots. There is a necklace resting softly against the hollow of your throat, and your cheeks are rosy, lips glossy and full. Dean doesn’t know if it is makeup or if you simply look like that, but it is killing him. 

You started hunting with Dean and Sam a few months ago after they found you trying to kill a whole werewolf den by yourself. You were young –too young– and didn’t have anyone else. You were alone in this world. It was almost instinct that the brothers took you under their wing. It was supposed to be a temporary thing, just until you gained a little more experience and could go on your own, or until they find you a hunting partner. 

But you never really left. Weeks started going by, and you stayed by their side. 

At first, Dean was annoyed. He was in his 40s, he was too old to be babysitting. He had to admit you were a damn good hunter, but you were too impulsive. Too ready to jump to action, too ready to put yourself in the line of fire. That was his job. But Sam wanted to make sure you would be safe after you got hurt in the werewolf incident, so he let you into the backseat of his car and drove you to the bunker. 

As annoyed as he was, he had to admit, you were gorgeous. Soft hair, pouty lips, shiny eyes. You had a halo of light around you, an innocence to you that was captivating. Not to Dean, of course. He couldn’t. Because the longer the time he spent with you, the more you dug your way into his heart. Your soft giggles echoing through the otherwise gloomy bunker, the sweet smell of cookies when you decided to bake, the gentle touches of your hands as you patched him up after an especially awful hunt (he hadn’t been touched so gently in… ever, actually), the adorable smile you gave him after he begrudgingly compliments your improving hunting abilities. 

You were too naive, too pure, too… good. 

So Dean kept his distance. Or he tried.

Because what Dean didn’t know is that you were anything but naive. You knew from the moment your eyes met his, that you wanted him. He was tall, and broad, and his hair was long, falling a little over those piercing green eyes. He was rugged in the ways you liked, and soft in the ways that mattered. But it was the wrinkles around his eyes, the ones that reveal a history of laughter and playfulness even as he glared at you, that charmed you. 

So you flirted with him, insatiably. Directly and indirectly. You ran your hand up and down his arm as you cleaned his wounds, squeezing his bicep tentatively. You complimented him in the worst possible moments, when he was concentrated in research or had just finished off a monster. You ran your fingers across his shoulders when you walked past him and you took any opportunity to press yourself to his huge frame. But you also flirted in other ways, wearing your shortest mini-skirts around the bunker, accidentally bending over to pick up a book in the library when you knew he was watching. You sucked on a lollipop as he tried to explain a case to you, and you blinked your big eyes at him, eyelashes fluttering and lips parting. 

But every time, you got the same response. For a single moment, Dean would lean in. He would stare down at your lips, or he would take a step closer, hand hovering over your waist, and then he would look away. He would tell you he is too old for you, that he can’t take advantage of you. That he is too broken, too damaged, that you deserved better, someone your age that could give you a normal life. He would tell you that you have no idea what you’re asking for, but you know what you need.  

So you walk into the kitchen late at night, past midnight, to get a snack after parading yourself around the bunker all day in your flimsy clothes while Dean did some work in the garage and tried not to lose his mind. You loved the way his eyes darkened when he saw you, the way his hands almost shook with the need to take you. His self-control was slowly crumbling, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

But this meeting is accidental. You are actually just looking for something to eat, not expecting Dean to be sitting at the dining table with a half-empty whiskey bottle and clouded eyes. You stop for a moment while he is lost in thought, not noticing you. He looks a little sad, and it is one of those few moments when the tough guy facade fell and you could witness the weight of the years on his shoulders. The years of hunting, of losing people, of nothing but fighting. As much as you desire Dean, you are also very much in love with him, and you didn’t like when he hurt like this, alone and drowning his thoughts with booze. So you clear your throat, making him turn to you.

“It’s drinking night and you didn’t tell me?” You joke, walking behind the kitchen island to grab a bag of chips from one of the cabinets. 

“I thought you were asleep.” He murmurs, voice even deeper than it already usually is. You turn to look at him, meeting his eyes. Dean is good at keeping his emotions in check, at controlling his expressions, but you are good at reading people. Especially him. And there is this glint in his eyes, the one that tells you he doesn’t want to be alone.

So you grab a beer from the fridge and walk towards the dinner table, sitting down across from him. You had always preferred sweet, fruity drinks, but thanks to the Winchesters you had learned to appreciate beer. Whiskey was a hard no, though. Dean stares at you for a long moment, eyes unreadable, before lowering his eyes to his glass and letting out a low chuckle. 

“What were you brooding about?” You take a sip of your beer, opening your bag of chips and offering Dean some. He shakes his head, taking a swig of his whiskey instead. 

“Nothing, really. I don’t want to bore you with my old man stories.” He laughs, and some tension leaves his shoulders. 

You bite your lip. Oh, if he only knew how much you loved it when he went all old man on you. When he reminisced about the past, when he tried to give you advice, showing you how experienced he was in so many different things, and how much it made you want to find out exactly how experienced he really was.

“I like your stories.” You offer softly, a small smile on your lips. “Come on, tell me a good one.”

He looks up at you over the rim of his glass, and you give him your best puppy eyes.

He crumbles immediately. 

“Once, when I was twenty-three and Sammy was in college.” He starts, and he doesn’t stop.

You spend what feels like hours but also seconds sitting there, drinking beer after beer, listening to him. He tells you about this weird religious cult slash mental control witch he found once when hunting on his own. He tells you about the time he hooked up with some girl at a bar, and she ended up being an Amazon. He laughs at some of the memories and you laugh along. His expression gets somber when talking about certain people, the people he lost, and you give him a few seconds to wallow in it before you make a lighthearted comment that makes him smile again and move to another story. He talks about the times he died, the times he almost did. Sometimes, unconsciously, he rubs his hand over a part of his body as he tells a story, presumably where a scar marred his skin. All while you stare at him with shiny, attentive eyes, like he is the only person in the world that matters.

By the time you finish your third beer, Dean is already a tiny bit… not drunk, but definitely less guarded.

Still, he had such a high alcohol resistance. It was so hot.

“That case was crazy. I still wonder how the siblings are doing. I hope they’re okay.” There it is, the look on his eyes. The way they unfocus slightly as he absentmindedly traces the edge of his glass with his finger. It was in those moments that you can truly look at him, take in every small detail of his face. Every wrinkle, every scar, every evidence of every battle. The living proof of his resilience, of his experience, of his survival. You press your thighs together, trying to ground yourself.

You fantasize for a moment about sliding under the table, taking Dean into your mouth. Make his nostalgia turn into pleasure, make him feel good, remind him of the good old days.

“When was that?” You ask, gently coaxing him out of whatever place he got lost in his mind. He blinks at you, taking in your soft smile and sweet voice before replying.

“Right after Sammy started hunting again, so I was like… twenty-seven?” 

You quickly do the math in your head, calculating how old you were back then. Fuck. You were still a kid when Dean was already killing wendigos and vampires and shifters. Oh, there must be something really wrong with you, because that makes something on your lower stomach burn.

“So, you were quite the ladies man, huh?” You tease him, trying to shake away the desire building inside of you. You watch him chuckle and drop his head forward.

You already knew that, because he still is. You have to watch women throw themselves at him in every hunt and every bar. It was infuriating.

“You could say that.” He replies nonchalantly, but there’s a smirk on his lips as he down the rest of his whiskey. 

“Can you imagine me meeting you in your mid-twenties?” I giggle, and it causes Dean to snort and shake his head amusedly, refilling his glass. You lean forward on the table, your hand laying next to his. So close. “I can. I can imagine us meeting at a bar, or a diner.” You smirk. “Maybe even a concert! Can you imagine us meeting in a rock festival’s pit?”

Dean snorts again, eyes still down on his glass. He presses his tongue to his cheek, like he is trying to stop the words from coming out of his mouth, but they end up escaping him anyway.

“I was very different back then, sweetheart. I wouldn’t trust my younger self around a girl like you.”

And there it was. 

The comment makes your breath get stuck in the back of your throat, and you look up at Dean with wide eyes. 

I wouldn’t trust my younger self around a girl like you.

A girl like you.

Dean returns your heated gaze for a moment, his eyes sharp and deep in the way they only got after you teased him too much. 

“But you trust yourself with me now?” You ask with the most innocent voice you can utter, batting your long eyelashes at him. You watch as he takes in a sharp breath, swallowing harshly.

“Barely.” He whispers, looking down at your lips when you lick them and then back at your eyes. 

Shitshitshit.

“You don’t have to, you know?” Dean looks at you slightly confused, and you lean further forward before whispering. “Control yourself, I mean. You don’t have to.”

There is a second in which you think Dean will lunge himself at you, finally. His eyes are darker than you have ever seen them, because they weren’t dark with anger, they were full of pure, raw hunger.

His hand twitches, and then he pulls away. 

He gets up from the table, downing back the whole glass of whiskey before setting it down on the table with a little too much force. He starts to walk away, and you don’t know if it’s the beers you had or the desperation that had been accumulating for months, but this time you try to stop him.

You get up from the table too, quickly moving until you are blocking his way out of the kitchen.

He says your name in reproach, eyes glued to the floor. “We can’t-”

“Yes, we can.” You interrupt him, waking a step closer until your chests are almost pressed together. You grab his arm, making him look at you. “Please, Dean. I want it, you want it. Come on.”

Dean still shakes his head, deep frown on his face. “I’ve told you, I’m not good for you, you-”

You groan, rolling your eyes and stomping your foot on the floor. It didn’t help make you look any more mature, but you didn’t care.

“Yeah, I know. I’m too young, you’re too old. You’re broken and dangerous and all of that.” You say sarcastically, making him raise his eyebrows. “When are you going to stop lying to yourself, Dean?”

That makes him scoff, and he shakes his head while looking away again. “It is true. You deserve better than some guy old enough to be your father.” He grimaces at his own words, rubbing a hand over his face.

But you double down, pressing your body completely against his. You push forward and Dean lets you guide him backwards, and you know he’s letting you because you could not make him move an inch if he didn’t want you to. He ends up pressed against the kitchen island, hand still covering his eyes. You use your hand on his arm to pull it down, forcing him to look at you again.

“Dean, I want you.” You look deep into his eyes, and he almost looks pained by it. “I know you think I don’t know what’s best for me, but I do. I know what I need, and I need you.” You squeeze his bicep before your hand moves to the back of his neck, fingers tangling with the hairs there. 

He says your name again, almost as a plea.

He was breaking. He was caving in. 

“Please, Dean.” You whisper as your lips brush his, looking into those green eyes that consumed your every waking thought. “We both know I need a real man.”

And that seems to do the trick. He lets out something akin to a growl, and his hands are finally on you. One moves to your waist, grip bruising. The other one goes to your hair, fingers intertwining with the long locks and pulling your head back, hard, exposing the delicate curve of your throat. It makes you whimper. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” Dean leans in closer, but he doesn’t kiss you. Instead, he lets the tip of his nose brush against your skin, from the apple of your cheek to your jaw and down your neck. “I’m no prince charming.”

“I want you, Dean.” You whine when his lips brush against the sensitive surface of your throat. You use the hand that is still tangled on his hair to pull him up, make him meet your eyes. “Ruin me.”

His lips are on you in less than a second. The kiss is bruising, violent with months of repressed want. He pulls you even closer, his beard a little scratchy against the soft skin of your face. You love it.

He pushes your lips apart with his tongue and you let him in, whining at the way he bites your lip before licking behind your teeth. You weren’t inexperienced like Dean thought, you had hooked up with people once or twice, but nothing had ever felt like this. Nothing could compare to the way Dean’s experienced tongue explored your mouth, or the way he spins you two around until you are pressed against the kitchen island, callused hands running down your sides until they’re gripping the sensitive skin of your thighs, lifting you up until you are sitting on top of the counter.

You gasp at the sudden movement, but you part your legs and let Dean slide in between them, shuddering as his fingers run up and down your legs. 

“You’re so fucking sensitive.” Dean grunts, lips moving down to kiss your neck. He bites the skin softly, and then a bit harder, making you moan. 

You pull his hair harshly, and it is his turn to moan, a sound you wanted to hear every day of your life. You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him closer, until his clothed cock presses against your core over your dress. You two groan at the same time, and you pull Dean into another kiss.

“Come on, Dean. Show me how a real man fucks, teach me what real pleasure is.” You whisper against his lips, and he seems to go a little insane at that. 

In seconds, his hands have already pulled the tiny white dress off your body, leaving you only in your lacy black underwear. He grunts again at the sight, hands running over all the new skin visible.

“You’re so sweet, so fucking beautiful.” He whispers, almost adoring, as his fingers brush over the curve of your breasts and down to your stomach. You bite your lip, enjoying the feeling of his rough hands on your smooth skin. It is hot, to be only in your underwear while Dean is completely clothed, but you want to see him too.

So you pull his shirt off him before he can say anything, and your mouth waters. He is all lean muscle and tanned skin. There is the tattoo on his chest you’ve fantasized so many times about licking, and you decide to go for it. You first bite softly over his collarbone, trying to subtly suck a hickey there. Judging by Dean’s chuckle, you’re not very subtle. You make your way down, trace his tattoo with your tongue, bite down on the flesh of his pectoral. You kiss over every scar you find, licking over the larger ones. It makes Dean shiver every time, and the way he holds you turns a little softer. 

Then you press your hand over his bulge, and his breath hitches. It makes you feel proud that he is this affected by your touch. You rub him over his jeans for a moment, just basking in the feeling of it cupped in your hand and the fact that this was actually happening. You use both hands to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. You pull them down along with his underwear, and Dean takes a step back to be able to step out of them. And that is when you finally see all of him. 

You have to bite your lip before doing something too crazy. Dean was big. Curved up against his stomach and flushed. And so fucking hard. 

I did that, you think deliriously as you feel yourself getting wetter.

You lick your lips, craving to feel the weight of him on your tongue, but you need Dean to touch you right now.

Another time.

“One day I will suck you off until you pass out.” You breathe out, and it makes Dean groan. He presses back against you, kissing you harshly.

“You’ll be the death of me, baby.” He whispers against your lips before undoing your bra with just one hand, sliding it off your body. He pushes you backwards until your back touches the cold surface of the counter. It makes you shiver, but it is all forgotten when Dean takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

He sucks softly, and then a little harder. He moves to the other breast, giving it the same attention until your nipples are wet and flushed and hard. You are a whining mess by this point. He continues to make his way down your body with his mouth, lips brushing against your inner thighs and leaving dark purple marks on them. Because you were his now.

He takes off your boots and leaves your socked feet resting against the edge of the counter. The position leaves your legs wide open, and your chest rises and falls more rapidly the closer Dean’s face gets to your clothed pussy. 

“Dean.” You whimper when he presses his face to your mound over your panties.

“Have any of those little boyfriends of yours ever eaten you out, or are they too much of a coward to do it?” You don’t respond, because your head is spinning and your vision is hazy. “It doesn’t matter, because I will show you how it is done.”

And he does. He pulls your panties off and devours you. He has you whining and moaning in seconds, hands pulling on his hair for dear life. He sucks on your clit and runs his tongue through your folds like a starved man. You come on his tongue once, and then again. You basically have to peel him away from you before you lose your mind when he keeps going, keeps sucking until you’re twitching with oversensitivity. 

“Please, I need you inside.”

And how could he ever say not to that.

It is almost morning by the time you two are laying under the covers of Dean’s bed. He had fucked you there on the kitchen island (Sam can never know), and then he had fucked you again on his bed. You were both exhausted as you laid on his chest, drawing figures with your fingernails across his skin. You chuckle and look up at him, only to find him already staring at you. His eyes are softer than you have ever seen them as he seems to bask in the sight of you all fucked out and soft. It makes you blush.

“You might have actually ruined me for anyone else.” You joke, biting your lip. But it was true, you were sure that your body would reject anyone who wasn’t Dean Winchester from now on. 

The joke makes some heat come back to Dean’s eyes, but also something else, something softer. Something so warm and delicate and absolutely terrifying. 

“Good.” he rasps out. “Because you won’t need anyone else.”

NOTES: I can't believe all of this came out of a half-asleep horny thought that I had. Anyway, thank you so much for the overwhelming support, you are all the best.

Older Dean MAY come back because I am too obsessed with him, only if college doesn't kill me first.

TAGS: @h8aaz <3

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

[dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy]

ANUTHUH ONE since you guys like the tiktok inspired ones (female user sorry if anyone wanted a male one i could do it its just it was a girl in the video and its kinda hard to make this one gn)

you and dean just got married an hour ago

y/n: no no we need to practice it

dean, wholeheartedly agreeing: of course- Right…uh… *in character* Excuse me, have you seen… my wife?

y/n: *also in character* umm, i was looking for my husband, has he been around here?

dean: yeah i gotta talk it over with the wife.

y/n: Oh yeah, my husband and i were just there last week!

dean: i have a pick up order, my wife sent it in…should be under… Y/n Winchester.

y/n: 😮

dean: 😮

y/n: …y/n winchester…

dean: you’re y/n winchester…

y/n: Mrs. Winchester…

dean: 😮

y/n: 😮

dean: holy fuck thats you

[deansbeer]

drenched in sin ・ DEAN WINCHESTER. ៸៸៸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ♡ pinned library

eighteen plus. minors do NOT interact.

WARNING(S). smutty smut | fem!reader | oral sex (f!receiving) | squirting | praise kink | teasing | dom!dean | s9!dean | dean's lil scruff | pure filth | overstimulation.

KARI NOTES. new layout isn't as pretty as the one i use for my fics—at least i think they are—but i wanted to try it out. neither is it a guarantee it will stay this way either. SO ignore my old layouts for everything else. they're all disorganized & honestly? i'm too lazy to reorganize them.

it's been weeks. weeks of shitty motels, long drives, and even longer hunts. but now, you're finally back in bed with dean, and he's got that mischievous glint in his eye that makes your stomach flip.

"'m telling you, sweetheart," he drawls, his cocky smirk widening as he kneels between your thighs, spreading them wider. "you can do it again. you squirted all over me last time."

you groan, covering your face with your hands. "dean, that was a fluke. it's not gonna happen again."

he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, his scruff scratching your sensitive skin. "a fluke, huh?" he murmurs, his lips trailing higher. "guess i'll just have to prove you wrong."

before you can argue, he's already between your legs, his mouth hot and wet as he drags his tongue through your folds. he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up to your clit, sucking it into his mouth like he's starved. the sound he makes—half groan, half growl—has your back arching off the bed, your hands twisting in the sheets.

"shit, de," you gasp, your legs trembling as his tongue flicks over your clit again and again, each stroke sending sparks shooting through your body.

he pulls back just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening, his green eyes dark with hunger. "god, i missed this," he mutters, sliding two fingers into you with ease, curling them just right. "missed the way you taste, the way you fall apart for me."

you bite your lip, trying to keep your moans quiet, but it's useless. his mouth is back on you, his fingers working you over with expert precision, and you can already feel the pressure building low in your belly.

"dean," you pant, your hips bucking against his face. "'s too much. i can't—"

"you can," he cuts you off, his voice muffled against you. "c'mon, babydoll. give it to me."

his tongue and fingers move faster, relentless, and you're trembling so hard you can barely breathe. the coil in your belly tightens, tighter and tighter, until it snaps, and suddenly you're cumming so hard you see stars.

"oh my god—dean!" you cry out as your release gushes out of you, soaking his entire face and your thighs. you try to squirm away, embarrassed, but his big palms clamp down on your stomach, holding you in place.

"oh no, you don't," he growls, his lips brushing over your sensitive clit as he keeps you pinned. "that was fuckin' beautiful, sweetheart. you're dripping all over me."

"dean, baby, stop," you whine, your face burning as you try to push him away. "you're gettin' it everywhere."

he chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your slick folds before pulling back, his face and chest a mess but looking completely unbothered. "sweetheart," he says, wiping his forehead and mouth with the back of his hand, "if you think i give a shit about getting messy, you don't know me at all."

before you can respond, he's crawling back up your body, his lips crashing into yours, and you taste yourself on his tongue. "you're fuckin' incredible," he murmurs against your lips, his cock pressing hard and heavy against your slick folds. "and now i'm gonna fuck you so good, you'll make an even bigger mess."

and knowing dean, you don't doubt it for a fucking second.

[mariswxt]

topgirl

We’ve all seen Dean’s demon form dominating humans, BUT WHAT IF HE WAS TOPPED BY A DEMON?

“Sugar, c’mon.” Dean groaned, his head tipping back against the headboard. Ugh, this felt so emasculating, your back against his chest, covers up, book in your hand— oh yeah, and his cock nestled inside of your pussy, unable to move because you wouldn’t let him.

You gently slapped his thigh, instantly stilling him and not even batting an eye — externally — as the tip of his cock brushed your cervix, absentmindedly flicking a page in your book. “Nope, baby, gotta stay still.”

Normally he’d be super smug when having a girl warm his cock, but right now he was frustrated, and mad, and god, it felt so good. Why did it feel so good doing this? Honestly, he got his rocks off on making girls scream and now this demon lady was making him feel like a fucking lamb.

“Fuckin’ hate you.” He murmured, eyes closing as he focused on how the walls of that pretty pussy were nestled around his cock at the right angle, the warmth making his stomach tingle and his nerve endings light on fire, his hands gripping your hips, feeling like a steel band and also a bomb ready to go off and make you scream with hard thrusts.

You raised an eyebrow, shifting slightly on purpose to elicit a groan from him, biting your lip to stifle a giggle— yeah, that really didn’t work out, you snickered anyway. “Awh, that’s cute, but we both know that ain’t true. You want this pussy.” Oh, yes, he did, and the way you purposefully squeezed him with your cunt only confirmed that.

A whimper escaped him. A whimper.

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@cheynovak

special tags for my boos: @jasvtsc @deanswidow @beausling @titsout4nicholas @figthoughts

@deansbite

[supernaturalfreewill]

"Dean! Can you come in here?!" Your voice echoed up the hallway and reached Dean in his bedroom. He immediately stopped in the middle of folding his shirt, discarding it on the bed, and went to the doorway of his room.

"Is everything okay?" he yelled back.

"Yeah, I just—I need your help with something!"

"On my way!" His steps echoed down the tiled hallway and he followed the orange glow of light into one of the storage areas. He found you just inside standing over a table, various items spread out in front of you on the table. "What's all this?" he asked, his deep voice gritty.

"Can you open this jar for me? I can't get the damn thing open."

He gave you a boyish half-smile and accepted it from you.

"What are you smirking about?" you asked him, fiddling with a bronze bowl.

"I don't know. I find it satisfying when you actually need help with something I guess," he teased you. He gripped the metal top and attempted to turn it. His hand slid. "Dammit," he growled, trying again. He readjusted his hold on the jar, squeezed as hard as he could, and twisted. The fucking thing wouldn't budge. Letting out another small noise of frustration he tried again. "Damn thing seems like its rusted sh—OW! What the hell?!"

The bite of your little silver knife was sharp and cold, quickly replaced by a heat and burning across the length of the little cut you'd just inflicted on his forearm. Dean looked down with wide-eyes as a few drops of his blood trickled into the little bronze bowl you'd sneakily arranged underneath him.

His jaw clenched. "What the hell?" he repeated, staring you down. "Why are you cutting me?!"

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the sterile gauze you'd already unwrapped and quickly smoothed it over his wound. "Don't be such a baby," you scolded him. "It was just a little nick!"

"Explain. Now." he demanded.

You were already throwing the rest of the ingredients into the bowl before he could stop you and there was quickly a flash of blue light and a puff of sage green smoke. You casually fanned it away with your hand. " Relax. It's just a protection spell. Considering you have a legion of demons after you."

Dean frowned, but sighed, and much of the tension left him. "Just so you know, people usually at least ask if they can use their blood in rituals and shit."

"Couldn't risk it. You might have said no."

"Why would I have said no to a protection spell?"

"Because some of the ingredients are rare and/or expensive and I didn't want to argue with you about your worth," you said, shooting him a pointed look.

He shifted a little and shook his head. "Fine. Whatever." He paused and watched as you turned back to the ingredients. "Do you even need this jar open?" he asked.

You turned and shot him a smile. "I super-glued it," you admitted. "It's just gravel from outside. I needed a distraction for you."

Dean let out a low laugh Your smile was irresistible. "Well, I am glad you're on my side. I'll say that." And he set the jar down with a clack and returned to his laundry.

Prompt: "Just so you know, people usually at least ask other people if they can use their blood in rituals and shit." / "Couldn't risk it. You might have said no."