#because Dean's his and he couldn't believe that he would touch another man's thigh

[idjits-areus]

Daphne: "We almost did. Dean had him by the thigh!"

Castiel: "He...what?"

Dean: "I almost caught him. That's the point."

Okay, but why would Cas react like that if not because of jealousy and disbelief?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Forbidden Lessons XXXIII (Path B)

Masterlist

Make sure to follow which path you’re reading and I hope it’s not too confusing. Each path (a and b) are separate storylines.

Warnings: noncon, age gap, abuse of power, coercion, mentions of suicide, depression, pregnancy and abortion, violence. Y'all know I do it dark and spicy. You have warnings, use them.

Thots, comments, screaming, and feedback are welcome and highly encouraged. Thank you.

"You must understand, given such short notice, I did have to scramble to find you some accommodation," Loki, not Professor, not Laufeyson, Loki, just a man, a snake, says to the windshield as he grips the thin steering wheel, "you're not giving me much wiggle room, pet."

"Stop calling me that," you cross your arms, "I told you--"

He snickers, "oh, do quit it. You sound rather ridiculous when you try to play tough. You weren't protesting so much when I was–"

"Don't," you warn, "I can always change my mind. Maybe you got off clean before but what happens when I walk into the dean's office with a test? Or a baby?"

"Don't be dramatic," he rolls his eyes, "for such a quiet thing, you sure do like to put on a show."

"You--" you inhale, jittery with anger, "you knew it would happen. After the first time, you knew... I wasn't on anything."

"Yes, well, call it the heat of the moment," he sighs, "I wouldn't change it. The way you squirmed and whined." He scoffs and grins at the road, "oh, mommy, mommy, please--"

You hit his arm, hard. He grunts and takes a hand away from the wheel to touch his sleeve, "oi."

"You can't--"

"I can, darling, I will. You want to keep this baby, you play by my rules. We came to terms. You'll have my money, my undying material support, and you will take whatever else I think to give you."

You flinch and lean against the door, pouting at the street outside. It takes you back to that snowy day you drove out of town. He is going rather far. Your stomach flips with unease. Where exactly is he planning to hide you?

"Now, darling, you can make it up to me," he strains as he shifts against his seatbelt, plucking open his trousers, "you remember the fun we had."

Your eyes prick. You could've stayed with Bucky... but even in that moment you couldn't imagine it. This is the way you gain just a little, a foothold on life. Loki wants to play his games but he'll get tired, like he always does. Maybe, when the child is older, you can go back to school and take care of yourself.

"Why?" you croak and he glances in the rearview with a furrowed brow, his hand resting against his thigh.

"What? Because I'm bored--"

"No, why did you do this? To me? Why, out of everyone, why did I have to be another girl?"

He takes a breath and his fingers bend and unbend against his trousers, "I can tell, the quiet ones, the shy ones, the... ones who you can just use. Unseen. No one notices them. You all have the same look in your eyes, you want it, you just don't know it."

"You really believe that?"

He's quiet and shrugs, "you came back, didn't you? You let me do everything I did? You came to my office, sat there and let me touch you. You came to that conference, you stayed in the same room and let me take whatever I wanted."

You sit grimly, watching the city fade out to suburbs.

"And the second time? My mother? Why--"

"I would've forgot about you, like the rest. They all blend together but you kept coming back, then that idiot got involved and I have my pride."

You nod and swallow tightly, "and why are you telling me all this? Why aren't you lying?"

"Nothing in lying for me now. So, let's be completely honest, I'm hard and you're here, so let us wile away the time somehow."

You look over at him. Him or Bucky, it would never genuine. They both just want a puppet to bend to their will. Loki's easier to please, Bucky's terrifying complicated. And if Bucky knew about the baby, the one that definitely isn't his...

This is simple, you've done it before.

You reach over as you stare through the windshield. He catches your hand, stopping you.

"No, your mouth," he insists, "it will be quicker."

You sigh and steel yourself. It's for the baby. He's going to give you a home, but he's not going to keep you. He'll be peripheral, a faint shadow among the gloom. You can live with that, you couldn't survive in the darkness of Bucky's temper.

You pull your hand back and move the cross strap of your seatbelt behind you. You twist in the seat and bend over the space between the seats. He reaches to pull the lever and reclines slight. You dip your head under his arm as you bow between the wheel and his lap.

You awkwardly snake your hand up to take him out of his pants, stroking his already hard length. You close your eyes, the tear-rippled vision of the bathroom on the second floor comes back to you. The salty flavour invades your mouth with him as you stretch your lips around him. A long purr rumbles and clenches in his stomach as you take him in an inch at a time.

"You always were the most obedient, pet," he tickles the back of your head.

You struggle not to bite down. Not to chomp off the only thing this man ever cared about. No, you will do it for the baby. You will do it because you can be better.

Better than you are. Better than your mother. Better for the child who you couldn't let end up like you. You're terrible at everything else but you could be a good mother. You could because you know exactly what not to do.

[herstarburststories]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

Kinktober day 14: tattoo kink

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean's anti possession tattoo is your personal turn on.

A/N: I had my first college day today, so this came out a bit late. Which means, not a beta'd work! Also, tell me if you know the gif's owner.

Warnings: tattoo kink, dirty talk, thigh riding, nipple play, humping

You loved a lot of things about Dean Winchester.

His loyalty, his care for Sammy, his car, his fingers, his lips, his eyes, how good he was with a gun, his courage, his jokes, his adorable Scooby Doo underwear, his cooking, how tender he could touch you with blood stained hands.

There was a lot to love about a man who went through heaven and hell, like a good book with 500 pages— an exciting story wrapped up with a pretty cover.

In certain moments, all the you cherished about him would combustion like a supernova, and you two would end up exactly like now.

You, riding his thigh and moaning against his neck, while Dean grabbed your hips for dear life. All in the middle of the believed DeanCave— none of this was planned. But, in a hunter's life, plans were just a sweet illusion. A single vampire would turn out to be a nest, a deadly werewolf would just eat animal's hearts, and you two just cuddling up, while watching an Old West movie just happened to end with you pressed your heat against his thigh and whimpering like a horny dog.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Dean groaned, his usual gruff voice only making your pussy shiver more. God, couldn't he see that wasn't enough?

You winced, nails sinking in his shoulders as you moved your hips back and forth, looking for more friction. Anything that could give your wet pussy some relief.

“I need you.” You pleaded, hand falling to the collar of his shirt. Your trembling hands attempted to lift it, but you couldn't focus on much more than getting him inside you, or getting more skin, or more anything from Dean. You just needed him as much as you needed air. You had to touch him, every bone in your body told you do. “I need more.”

As usual, Dean seemed to understand exactly what he meant. Maybe because he was just as touch-starved for you as you were for him. Whatever, that didn't matter. The third apocalypse could be starting and it wouldn't matter. All that was worth being cares about was Dean throwing his shirt away.

You whimpered at the sight; your hot boyfriend half naked, flustered from all the dirty things you both had been doing, and his sexy tattoo right in front of your eyes.

You leaned in, not willing to waste any second, connecting your lips to his skin. You kissed him like a devout would worship a god; full of devotion, love, and desire for another blessing. Your kisses went from his chest to his nipple, gaining a slightly moan of Dean there — information that you'd keep for another moment—, until your mouth finally found the ink star.

It was so pretty, so manly. His tattoo didn't care any delicate trace, it was branded in a very visible, and just wrapped his bad boy persona perfectly. He looked so fucking hot like this.

You bit it softly.

Dean's lips parted lightly to let out a plea, “Y/N...”

His cock was hard, boner obviously on his pants and untouched. Yet, somehow seeing your obsession with his tattoo didn't make him frustrated, it would caused his hardness to ache longer, crying pre cum to be touched.

You were so sexy when you loved every piece of his.

“I always knew you had a thing for my tattoo, but not that much.” Dean said under his deep breath, holding your head away to watch you leaned in and kissing his tattoo. Your lips were magical, spreading goosebumps wherever they touched. You sucked on his tattoo, wanting to leave a hickey there. “God, honey. You look so hot like this, ridding me and kissing my tattoo.”

“Dean.”

The way you whined his names during intimate moments always threw Dean back in the wild. Something savage got good of him when you begged for his touch like this; as if you needed him as much as he needed you.

Yeah, the people he saved needed him temporarily. But all the girls, all the other people he had known through the years— neither of them ever matched him when it came to this. They didn't need or love him as much as he did. Not even Sammy seemed to need his big brother that much.

You, though? Years and years, you were still here. Contorting and crying only for his touch, his own sacrifice of heart.

Sometimes, he couldn't blame the ancient gods for wanting their loyal pious back. Not if they felt like this.

Therefore, Dean Winchester just allowed himself to lose control for a minute. Something that could only be described as a howl reverberated through his throat, as he grabbed your hips and placed you on his clothed length.

You both moaned at this. Dean could feel how wet you were for him, and you could experience the bulge on his jeans, only for you.

You started swirling your hips against his hardness, placing your head on his shoulder, needy moans leaving your body. This felt like heaven. Your skirt lifted, the friction of your soaked underwear on Dean's tough jeans, while his hands hurted your waist with passion.

“You're such a slut for my tattoo, huh? You are here, humping on my boner, and you are about to cry just because you can't see me tattoo.” He groaned, pushed you down his cock. Dean told you the rhythm through his hands, and you obediently moved back and forth. He licked his lips, glancing at you: your features contorted into pleasure, mouth open, and sweaty body. His. Only his. Still, your head was handing towards his chest, as if there was something there you were missing. “Look at my face. You better come just like this: untouched. And then I'll fuck your pretty pussy, fill you up with my cum— all while you watch my tattoo. Maybe I'll even let you ride me, see your pretty boobs jumping, while I fuck you. Would you like that, Y/N?”

“Y-yes.” Your body was shivering, fighting yourself not to shut your eyes and get lose in the emotion of belonging. You maintened looking into Deam's lustful green forest, moaning at each movement that rubbed your cunt the right way. And he was growling, pushing you to his crotch, enjoying the pleasure that rough, crude caress gave him.

“Come on, honey. Come to me. Don't you want me to fuck your needy cunt? To tell and show who you belong too? Keep rubbing against my cock and you will come, Y/N. I can't wait to get inside that pretty, tight pussy of yours.”

“DEAN!”

Your orgasm hit you like a comet, Dean's words getting in your veins as a venom. All your body knew how to do was to follow his orders. Your underwear was a mess like the begging mumbles that left your smart mouth.

Because you just wanted more from him. You wanted his touch, you wanted his love, you wanted his cock pounding you over and over again.

Dean held on the edge, trying his best not to come in his pants like a fucking teenager. God, that was one of the hardest things he had ever done— did you have any idea how hot you looked when you came, squirming and screaming his name? But he had to control himself. He wanted to come inside you, slide his thick cock inside your tight walls, get all warm, and fuck you like a real man would.

You were breathless, trembling a bit when your eyes found his again; you know the look on his face very well, and you couldn't wait for the promises to be kept through the night. You were ready for him to fuck you deep and come inside you, mark your pussy as his.

Dean Winchester was the tattoo on your bones, might as well be permanent on other places too. Even if only for the night.

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