#bluemerakis recs ᝰ.ᐟ

[bluemerakis]

he called us pretty girl guys

ೇ WORTH EVERY PENNY. ☆

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

📖 LIBRARY !

PAIRING. dean winchester x f!reader.

SYNOPSIS. he ruined your other sheer lace bra last time while cleaning baby, so you bought a new one. when he sees you in it, though, all he can think about is sliding his cock between your tits—you don't stop him.

WARNINGS. smut | s1 dean | titfucking | use of oil | praising | dirty talk | dean's obsessed with ur tits (as he should) | strong language.

KARI TALKS. the link below is what inspired me to write this filthiness. listen !!! do not come for me !!! or i'll shoot u w my glock <3 because 🖕🏻 n e ways … i love smookums SO bad !!! he's such a lil slut <3 + this is lowkeyyy ass … but in bree's words! fuck it we ball.

🔗 P LINK.

dean owes you a bra. or at least, he owed you a bra.

but instead of whining about it—because let's be honest, you didn't actually care—you just went out and bought a new one. a better one.

it wasn't like you couldn't afford it.

your dad was loaded, ran a huge company known around the world, and you were his only daughter. money was never an issue. but when he made you choose between your inheritance or dean, the choice was easy.

you cut him off without a second thought.

and yeah, maybe that pissed off dean at first—because he had his whole pride thing going on—but you didn't give a shit. you were happy. you had him.

and right now? well, right now, you had his full attention.

"jesus, sweetheart. that's new."

you're lying on your back, your arms bent at the elbows, biceps pushing your tits together, giving him a perfect view of the new sheer lace bra wrapped around you.

it's delicate, expensive, barely even there.

dean's staring. openly. shamelessly. his green eyes dark, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip like he's already imagining all the ways he wants to ruin you.

and honestly? you love it.

"figured i deserved a new one," you say, tilting your head, acting all innocent. "since you completely soaked my last one."

he smirks, kneeling beside you on the bed, his hands already reaching for you. "not my fault you looked so cute all wet and pissed off."

"you drenched me, winchester."

"and you loved every second of it."

you roll your eyes, but you don't stop him when his fingers slide along the lace, tracing the curve of your tits, palming them through the fabric.

he exhales hard, cock already hard in his boxers, straining against the fabric.

"baby," he mutters. "this thing's barely even doin' its job."

you grin. "good."

he groans, squeezing a little rougher, thumbs brushing over your nipples through the thin material.

"you know," he starts, voice dropping, "i've always wanted to try somethin'."

you raise an eyebrow. "yeah?"

dean nods, his smirk turning downright filthy.

"lemme fuck these pretty tits."

you don't even hesitate. "whatever you want, baby."

dean looks too good, sitting back on his knees, muscles flexing, his cock heavy and hard in his hand.

he groans at your response, muttering a low, "fuck, you're perfect," before reaching over to grab something from the nightstand.

you hear the pop of a bottle cap, and then suddenly, his hands are lathering something warm and slick over your skin—oil, maybe?

whatever it is, it makes his touch glide like silk, his fingers sliding over your tits, spreading the shine, making them glisten under the dim motel light.

you hum, arching into his hands. "this your thing now, winchester? oiling me up?"

he chuckles, but his voice is strained. "nah, just wanna make sure i can slide in nice and easy, sweetheart."

you bite your lip, heat pooling between your thighs.

he positions himself, straddling your waist, his cock nestled right between your tits, the tip red and leaking, aching for friction.

"press 'em together for me, baby," he murmurs.

you obey, pushing your oiled-up tits around his cock, squeezing just right.

dean chokes out a groan, his head tipping back, hands gripping your ribs as he thrusts for the first time.

"yeah," he breathes. "just like that, sweetheart."

dean is a mess.

he starts slow, watching himself slide through the tight, slippery space, his cock disappearing and reappearing between your tits.

his breathing is ragged, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping the headboard behind you as he picks up the pace.

"jesus—fuck—"

his words send a shiver down your spine, and honestly? you're just as turned on as he is.

the sheer lace bra does nothing to hide the mess—his cock gliding between your slicked-up skin, the fabric barely covering your hard nipples, everything shiny with oil and precum.

dean loves it.

his eyes are blown out, fixated on the way your tits bounce with every thrust, his groans getting louder, rougher, more desperate.

"so fuckin' good—"

you giggle breathlessly, looking up at him. "you're really into this, huh?"

his eyes snap to yours, his hand is on your chin, tilting your face up.

"you have no idea," he rasps, before spitting right onto your tits.

you moan, clenching around nothing, the slick mess making everything even filthier.

"fuck, fuck—baby girl," he groans, thrusting harder now, his abs flexing, his hips snapping sharp and fast.

you love seeing him like this—wild, desperate, completely wrecked over you.

then—he loses it.

"shit—gonna cum—"

dean pulls back at the last second, his cock twitching, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he finishes all over your tits and that expensive, see-through lace bra.

he groans, long and deep, his head dropping forward, his body shuddering as he coats your skin in thick, warm ropes of cum.

you watch him, breathless, your thighs clenched, your own body aching for more.

"damn, baby," he mutters after a second, blinking down at you, his chest rising and falling.

you glance down at yourself, sticky and shiny, your new bra absolutely ruined.

"well," you hum, amused. "guess i'll be needing another one."

dean snorts, flopping onto the bed beside you, still catching his breath.

"yeah?" he smirks, glancing over. "that means i get to ruin another one, right?"

you roll your eyes, turning to straddle him instead.

"only if you make it up to me first."

he grins, grabbing your hips, pulling you down against his already half-hard cock.

"pretty girl," he murmurs, voice dripping with promise. "y'know, i can do that."

꒰୨୧꒱ SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @daylighted @bluemerakis @beausling @aileenunfiltered @honeyryewhiskey @figthoughts @lacydollette @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @soldiersgirl @sunsbaby @abox-of-rocks @whisperingdaze @eepwtf @deanswidow @voidsuites @jasvtsc @cowboysandcigarettes @stereotypicalbarbie @unfortunate-brat

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𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 ─ billy butcher, soldier boy; open to others

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⌖ thigh-highs

⌖ soft!billy caring for sick reader

𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂 :

⌖ carnival for kisses

⌖ lover boy butcher

𝚂𝙼𝙰𝚄𝚂 :

⌖ ranch getaway with bf!karlurban

⌖ bts with the boys cast

𝙴𝙳𝙸𝚃𝚂 :

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⌖ 333

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𝙵𝙸𝙲𝚂:

⌖ soldier boy x fem!supe!reader

o. skin covered in ego

i. feelin’ fuckin’ fantastic

ii. i’m not going anywhere

iii. ─

⌖ soldier boy x vought!exec!daughter ─ request

i. synergy

ii. ─

𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚃𝚂:

⌖ memory foam

𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙱𝙱𝙻𝙴𝚂:

⌖ crossover core

⌖ his for the taking

𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂:

⌖

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[bluemerakis]

. ݁ ⋆ ˚. ݁ 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚊’𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 ݁.˚ ⋆ ݁.

hello lovely people! welcome to my masterlist. my interests tend to fluctuate quite often, so i write for whoever i want, whenever i want—but typically when the obsession is the strongest lol. anyhoo, that being clarified, please enjoy whatever i’ve managed to spew out this far.

i. 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𖤐

ii. 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜 ⌖

iii. 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 ོ

iv. 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍 ☠︎

v. 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚌. 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 & 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝e𝚛𝚜 ˚. ݁ ~

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[bluemerakis]

. ݁ ⋆ ˚. ݁ 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌. 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 .ᐟ ݁.˚ ⋆ ݁.

𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚊 ꣑ৎ 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢 ꣑ৎ 𝚠𝚘𝚌

！𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚍𝚗𝚒 ！

𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎 — queer. ♑︎. leisurely writer. i’m the gal that can’t keep it short n sweet. reader. bot maker. busy vet student. certified animal lvr. dilf collector. i’m a blue bitch, in case you haven’t noticed. jackles’ & karl urban’s princess. an em dash hates to see me coming—too bad i’m already here and i ain’t ever leaving. religious binge watcher. anxious prattler. professional procrastinator. & i also edit sometimes. sza’s top 0.05.

𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚜 — the walking dead. supernatural. the big bang theory. the boys. the hunger games. the last of us. yellowjackets. big sky. game of thrones. the rookie. the witcher. the 100. arcane. marvel. & many more

𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜 — sza. chappell roan. childish gambino. isaiah rashad. mac miller. kaytranada. tyler, the creator. frank ocean. jhené aiko. kehlani. yeat. the weeknd.

© 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚜 — please do not plagiarise any of my creations.

𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚌.𝚊𝚒

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𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚜 𝜗𝜚

who i write for ─ currently, I have been writing for young!coriolanus snow, but I can expand into other characters

requests ─ open

◜ 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙶!𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙰𝙽𝚄𝚂 𝚂𝙽𝙾𝚆 ◝

𝙵𝙸𝙲𝚂

ོ young!coriolanus snow x district!reader

i. paper trails

ii. ─

𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚃𝚂

ོ i’m the guy mothers warn you about

𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙱𝙱𝙻𝙴𝚂

ོ

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𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒 𝚠r𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚘r ─ rick grimes, negan smith, daryl dixon

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𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚃𝚂

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𝙾𝙽𝙴 S𝙷𝙾𝚃𝚂

☠︎ nothing left to lose

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☠︎ 111

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HOLY FUCKING SHITBALLS FIG

jealousy games — dean winchester ⋆˚࿔

summary: after a nasty argument, dean decides to get back at you by flirting with another woman. you take it upon yourself to return the energy.

warnings: smut (with a plot!), oral (f. receiving), jealous/angry dean, angst?, manhandling, est. relationship (dom!bf!dean x gf!reader) 18+

⋆ .𖥔˚

dean’s hand slid higher and higher up the woman’s thigh as you watched from across the bar, your lips threatening to curl into a scowl at the sight. his eyes were on you, and that stupid, proud smirk on his face had you seething as you watched the excited blonde bounce around in the seat next to your boyfriend, giggling at every word that left his lips.

you huffed angrily to yourself and turned to face the bar again, having had enough of his little display. fine. if he wants to play that game, then you’ll play too. no big deal.

you swallowed the last of your drink and slammed it back down onto the bar, eyeing the place for someone suitable. your eyes landed on two men, who were both staring intently at you from their barstools a few seats up. the men were decently handsome and looked like they could take a punch if it came to it, so you flashed them a sweet smile.

the men grinned and turned to each other for a moment, exchanging a few quiet words before standing up and making their way over to you.

“hey, pretty thing. i’m dan… and this is mike,” the taller man greeted and gestured to his friend before leaning on the bar next to you. “you drinking alone?”

you tilted your head up at them and forced out a smile, “mhm, just blowing off some steam.”

the pair nodded and checked you out, eyeing you up and down with matching grins on their faces. “so what’s your name? can we buy you a drink?” mike asked.

you gave them your name and bit your lower lip, watching the men smile in response to your flirting. “actually, i kinda want to dance,” you said, smirking at them.

“oh, yeah? dance? we can dance,” mike nodded slowly, holding his hand out for you.

you chuckled softly, shooting a glance back at dean, before grabbing the man’s hand. “great, let’s go then.”

dean’s mind had completely abandoned the gorgeous blonde sat in front of him. his eyes were glued on you, and they had been since he saw the two men first make their way over to you. dean’s jaw tensed as he watched you lead the guys onto the dance floor, his grip on his beer bottle tightening, turning his knuckles bone white.

“hey, uh— are you okay?” the blonde woman asked, her brows furrowing in confusion as she noticed the scowl form on dean’s face.

“i’m fine,” he responded curtly, his eyes not leaving your figure as he spoke.

he watched the two men circle around you as you danced, like predators stalking their prey. dean could feel the rage beginning to flood his veins. he didn’t like this. not one bit.

as you moved in rhythm with the two men, you could feel dean’s eyes boring into you from across the bar. you could sense the anger in his gaze, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself in satisfaction; you were winning. you were beating him at his own damn juvenile game.

you moved closer to the two men and began grinding along with them to the music, feeling their hands travel over your body, demanding and brash. you shut your eyes and smiled, letting them guide you and your movements.

dean watched on from the table he was sat at, slowly sipping his beer with a sour expression plaguing his face as the blonde tried—and failed—to make conversation again.

but dean’s attention was still on you. he could barely watch as the men let their hands wander all over the places of your body that he knew so well, so intimately. the taller man leaned down and whispered something in your ear, making you throw your head back and laugh. dean’s jaw tensed again. he nearly crushed the beer bottle in his bare hand as he saw you pull the man back down and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your chest against his.

then dean caught your eyes as you spun around to face him with a big smug smirk plastered on your face.

that was it.

dean abruptly excused himself from the woman and stood up, heading directly for you on the dance floor with heavy footfalls. you watched him, continuing to smirk as you rested your head on dan’s shoulder.

“we’re going. now.” dean snapped quietly, but firmly enough for you—and the two men—to hear over the hum of the music as he grabbed your upper arm.

“hey, man—” mike moved in front of you and dan, blocking dean from pulling you away.

“yeah,” dean laughed lowly, “i’m not talking to you, buddy.” dean let go of your arm and pulled his back, throwing his weight into a punch, landing a nasty blow on mike’s jaw.

mike stumbled off to the side, his hands immediately grabbing his jaw as he let out a deep pained groan.

“hey!” dan yelled and pushed you behind him. he stepped forward, up to dean, “what’s your fuckin’ problem, man?”

dean laughed again, darkly and unimpressed, but slightly amused by the man’s attempt to defend his friend’s honour. dean found your eyes, ignoring dan entirely, and spoke directly to you, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“i said we’re going. now.”

you laughed and shook your head, “no, i don’t think so. go back to that pretty little blonde.”

you grabbed dan’s shoulder and pulled him back to you, dismissing dean from saying anything further. dan hesitantly wrapped his arms back around you as he watched dean seethe from the corner of his eye.

“baby. now.” dean snapped, his face tightening in anger. “the ‘pretty little blonde’ was nothing. you’re doing too much now, and you know it.”

“do you know this guy?” dan asked you as he glanced between dean, mike—who was still rubbing his tender jaw with a scowl on his face—and you.

you shrugged, “not really. just some guy.”

dean scoffed and ripped dan off of you. dan grunted with widened eyes, clearly not anticipating dean’s strength. he stumbled backwards into mike, who let out another groan.

“some guy, my ass,” dean huffed and got in your face. “we’re leaving. now. let’s go.”

you rolled your eyes, despite his serious tone and expression. you glanced at the two guys with an apologetic look, “sorry, fellas. it was nice to meet you both. sorry ‘bout the…” you gestured towards your jaw.

dean pulled you towards the exit through the sparse crowd of drunken patrons, huffing angrily as you smiled back at the two men, whose faces were contorted in confusion and disbelief at the whole situation.

dean managed to pull you outside into the cool air of the parking lot and shoved you towards the impala. “you think that shit is fucking funny?” he snapped.

you flinched slightly at the roughness of his voice but continued smirking anyways, responding with defiance laced thick in your tone, “yeah, a little bit to be honest.”

“s’not fucking funny. get the fuck in.” dean growled angrily, swinging open the passenger door for you.

you did as you were told, sliding into the passenger seat and rolling your eyes as he slammed the door. dean walked around to the driver’s side and got in.

“how could you let them touch you like that? no one touches you like that but me. got it?” he started the car and turned to you expectantly, waiting for your answer as the engine rumbled in the quiet of the parking lot.

“oh, but it’s fine for you to touch that woman the way you did in there, huh?” you shot back, clicking in your seatbelt.

dean’s face hardened as he began reversing the impala, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. “she was nothing,” he replied with a dangerously low tone.

“oh, yeah? you basically fingerfucking her at that table was nothing?” you snapped in a huff and crossed your arms.

dean pulled onto the main road and scoffed to himself. “yeah, it was nothing,” he said bluntly, keeping his eyes on the dark road ahead.

“i know what you were trying to do, dean.”

“yeah? obviously it worked,” he chuckled back mockingly, taking a moment to glance at your sullen face.

you scoffed and tightened your crossed arms, “fuck you, dean! you’re so immature, you know that? we have one little fight and you just go off and find the biggest bimbo to flirt with just to piss me off!”

“amanda isn’t a bimbo,” dean replied flatly, his tone mocking again, “she’s pre-med, actually.”

“i don’t give a fuck!” you yelled.

“yeah, you don’t give a fuck. that’s why you were practically fucking bert and ernie on the dance floor!” he snapped back in a huff, turning onto a side street.

you felt the anger begin to boil the blood in your veins as he kept speaking, acting like this whole situation wasn’t his fault, which only riled you up further. “well, maybe if you fucking treated me right, i wouldn’t have to go and find assholes to dance around with!”

“treat you ri— are you joking?!” dean scoffed in disbelief and shot you a look. “treat you right? you’re the centre of my goddamn world. i’d die without you. and you wanna cry about me not treating you right. i treat you right,” he growled lowly without taking his eyes off the road, his tone deep and venomous, your words clearly striking a nerve.

you let out a huff and looked out the window. “yeah, right whenever you want something,” you muttered angrily.

dean slammed a hand down on the steering wheel as the motel came into view further down the road, making you flinch slightly at the sudden noise.

“i do treat you right. i’m doing the best i can, damn it!” he turned to you, his expression a strange combination of anger and hurt swirling around on his tense face.

you rolled your eyes, which only seemed to visibly piss dean off more. “the best you can?” you began to raise your voice, “if the ‘best you can’ is flirting with another woman in front of me, then i don’t want your ‘best’, you fucking ass!”

dean shook his head, turning the impala into the motel parking lot. it fell silent as dean pulled the keys out from the ignition. his eyes dropped to his hands in his lap.

dean took in a sharp breath, “get inside.”

you turned your head to him, looking at his tensed jaw and the way his chest moved from heaving out rough breaths. you opened your mouth to begin speaking.

but you were interrupted by dean, “now.”

his voice was low and unsettling. it was disarming, having dean speak to you in a way that you’d rarely ever seen, let alone been on the receiving end of. okay, so maybe you pushed him a little too far with your antics. you knew about dean’s jealousy issues when it came to the people he loved, but to see it play out in real time had your heart racing.

“okay.”

was all you said, before hopping out of the car and walking to the motel room. dean followed quickly behind you and shut the door. he looked at you, his eyes now darkened and his mouth pressed into a firm sneer.

“i don’t wanna talk. i want you to take your clothes off and get on the bed,” dean said, his tone still disarmingly low and calm.

you swallowed softly and nodded—you couldn’t disagree. hell, you didn’t even know if you wanted to. your fingers found the hem of your shirt and you pulled it over your head whilst kicking off your shoes. dean watched as you silently undressed yourself, and he began pulling his clothes off too, still watching your every move like a damn hawk.

dean followed you onto the bed and grabbed your jaw with his rough hands, yanking you towards him. he met your lips with fervour, forcing your mouth open and shoving his tongue against yours, completely and utterly claiming you, reminding you that you’re his. and his only.

his grip on your jaw was tight, and it stayed that way as his other hand travelled down your body, ending up between your thighs. his fingers flicked over your clit, making your hips jerk in surprise as a gasp fell from your mouth.

“no, keep fucking still,” dean muttered against your lips before diving back in, tangling his tongue with yours again.

you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you. dean’s fingers began rubbing your core, forcing a wave of heat to fall over your body and pool in your stomach. he worked his hand between your thighs until he could feel your cunt drool and your folds puff up under his fingers.

he was rough and unforgiving with his hand, rubbing your heat quickly, like he was trying to channel his anger from the car and turn it into pleasure. you whined and whimpered into his mouth, and your legs began to shake from holding yourself up.

dean could feel you beginning to lose composure as you twitched against his hand. he didn’t let you break the kiss or pull away from his touch; his tongue kept dominating your mouth, lapping up your sweet taste mixed with the lingering flavour of alcohol on your tongue.

you hit your climax and moaned slurred mumbles into his mouth as a wave of pleasure crashed over you. he hummed as he felt your wet cunt quiver against his fingers.

dean pulled back from your lips and panted down at you, his free hand still holding your face, keeping you looking up at him. his face was still tense, and his pupils were completely blown out by desire. you could feel the anger and need radiating off him in thick heavy waves.

“you really think i treat you like shit, huh?” he huffed out, pulling his wet hand away from your cunt and roughly shoving you back onto the bed.

you fell back onto the pillows and looked up at him with wide eyes. “dean, i—” you started.

“no,” he interrupted, “that was a rhetorical question. i’d die for you, you know that? a-and you go and say that i’m a bad boyfriend. that i treat you like shit. that i’m not good enough.”

your eyes stayed wide as you took in his anger and the venom—that was barely just disguising the hurt—in his voice. dean shook his head at your silence; he knew his words were cutting deep, but he wanted you to understand how much they’d hurt him.

dean forced your thighs apart, letting his gaze fall upon your puffed up cunt, which was practically begging to be split open and used.

“yeah, a bad boyfriend,” he quipped to himself, shaking his head at how quickly he’d gotten you worked up like usual and how you still don’t even realise how good he is for you, especially like this.

you frowned up at him, watching the anger pull tight at his features. “dean, please. i didn’t mean—”

dean met your eyes again and sneered, “no, i don’t wanna hear it. you don’t say a thing to me, alright? you keep that mouth shut.”

he was dead serious. his chest rose and fell as he kept his hardy gaze on you, his eyes boring into yours.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes, trying to lighten the tension between the two of you. “dean, c’mon—”

he shook his head and delivered a quick smack to your cunt, the hit stinging your sensitive bud, forcing a whimper to escape from your mouth as your hips bucked.

“i said not a goddamn peep,” he repeated. his eyes continued to bore into yours, waiting for you to comply with his words—or not. he was ready to smack you again if he needed to, and you could tell.

so you nodded, not really knowing what else to do with this new side of dean you’d accidentally unlocked. it was unnerving, but exciting at the same time—the way he breathed through his gritted teeth and tensed his jaw, and how his darkened eyes travelled over your form beneath him, almost shrinking you down with his unwavering gaze.

dean swallowed and nodded back at you, “good. i’m not listening to another word of your bullshit. i’m not a bad boyfriend. i fucking love you.”

as soon as his words left his lips, his mouth had found its way between your thighs, attaching itself to your slick cunt. you mewled at his warm tongue lapping at you, and you watched as he worked at your core with fervour once again, practically smushing his face into your wet heat. he worked at you like he had something to prove, like your words held a truth in which dean didn’t want to admit and therefore had to disprove, not only to you but to himself.

he held your thighs apart with his hands, letting the fat of them surround his head, muffling the mewls and moans he was pulling from you.

you watched his eyes flicker up to meet yours for a second. he still looked angry, and it was almost like he was telling you off with his gaze. lay there and take it. let me show you how fucking good i am for you.

dean soon shut his eyes, falling into the pleasure of lapping up your sweet taste on his tongue, desperately pulling your core closer to his face like a man who’d just struck gold between your thighs. he moaned against you, at your taste and the way your hips began to buck up into his face, pleading for more. he held you down against the mattress with his strong grip, his mouth chasing your heat every time you tried to buck back up.

he’d managed to pull two orgasms straight from your core, his tongue licking up your sweet nectar every time you let go against his stubbly jaw. it was like he wasn’t even doing this for you anymore, but instead now doing it for himself, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he never wanted to let you go, like he was in some sort of trance.

“d-dean…. please,” you whimpered out, trying to buck your hips against his face and shove his head away from you, your fingers pushing against his sandy locks. “please, baby. can’t take— take anymore.”

his eyes darted up to your glazed over ones staring right back at him. he took in the way your face was all flushed and your chest heaved like you’d just finished a marathon. pride surged in his chest; a bad boyfriend? yeah, right.

he nipped at your clit, earning a cry from you, and finally pulled away, sitting up on his knees. the lower half of his face glistened with your slick arousal coating his stubble and lips.

you panted out weak whimpers as you looked at each other. it fell silent, and an uneasy tension filled the air around you both. you stared at him cautiously, your eyes flickering between his. you didn’t know what to say.

dean licked his lips and sighed, a heavy tense breath that added to the thick air surrounding you both. “right…” he cleared his throat and shuffled closer to you. he grabbed ahold of his furiously red cock and swiped some precum from his tip, lubricating his shaft as he gently began pumping himself. a gasp fell from his lips, and he looked down at you, watching the way your eyes nervously met his as you awaited his next move, unsure of where his temper sat.

his warm calloused hand grabbed your leg, hoisting it up against his abdomen, your thigh pressing against his soft tummy. you grunted as he tugged you up and watched as he swiped his tip along your slit, earning a breathless moan from you.

“you want this?” he asked, teasing your folds with his member, tapping your bud with his tip.

you bit your lower lip and nodded.

“words. i want you to tell me you want it. that you want me,” he said firmly.

“i want you. ‘course i want you,” you murmured, your eyes flickering between his in earnest.

dean scoffed. your brows pinched together slightly at the sound, and a small strum of hurt moved through you.

“yeah…” was all dean said before he plunged himself into your wet cunt quickly, bottoming out inside you with a rough breath.

a pained moan flew past your lips, and you felt your pussy flutter around him, trying to accommodate the large new intrusion inside you.

dean’s hand gripped roughly at your leg, still holding it up against his torso, keeping you spread open for him. he leaned forward a little and kept his eyes on your face as he pulled his hips back, before slowly thrusting into you again. he watched as your flustered expression morphed into a look of pleasure—despite the lingering twinge of nervousness in your eyes that betrayed your true feelings.

he held you up against him tight, almost painfully so, as he built a rhythm, pumping in and out of you as loud squelching sounds bounced around the room. your already overstimulated cunt wept around his dick, sucking him in like he belonged there, like you couldn’t bear to feel him go.

rough grunts fell from dean’s lips, and his face scrunched up, his hazy green eyes locked on where you two connected. you couldn’t help your own sweet sounds from escaping as he pounded into you quickly.

dean pulled you up against him more, his free hand now grabbing at your lower hip, keeping you up at the perfect angle. his fingertips pressed into the fat of your thigh and his dick pistoned into you, hitting all those gooey spots that had you clutching at the sheets and whimpering at every thrust. his tip pounded against your cervix; it was rough, and you were sure you were going to be bruised in the morning, but the look on dean’s face and the way he throbbed inside your walls made it hard to care.

“d-e-ean!” you cried out, tears forming in your eyes from his harsh strokes. you felt that dizzying warm feeling in your stomach start to grow as you watched the absolute beast of a man above you rut into you like an animal.

dean’s droopy darkened eyes flickered down to yours, and you swore, just for a second, you saw a flicker of that usual dean softness slip through the angry exterior. he kept hissing and grunting with every thrust, not taking his eyes off yours, falling back into that pussydrunk trance.

“take it. just fucking take it. i fucking love you…. and you love me,” he managed to grunt out, his voice winded from plowing into you like a fucking rabid animal.

“i do! ‘course i do! please!” you whined, feeling your body begin to turn to jelly in his grip.

your weak pleas fell on deaf ears. dean didn’t let up his rough thrusts; he continued to piston his swollen angry dick into your sweet cunt. sweat beads formed on his forehead, and his heavy breaths began to turn into deep guttural groans, the sound only soaking you more.

“you fucking love me,” he moaned out, “but you tell me— tell me i don’t treat you right.”

you whimpered, not only at the feeling of your release quickly approaching, but also at dean’s words. he looked so pained as he rutted into you, his features pulled tight in a way you could tell didn’t come from just pleasure alone. the impact of your words in the car had stung him more than you could’ve anticipated, and his face showed that.

“i didn’t— i didn’t mean it! dean, please!” you moaned out hoarsely, feeling guilt begin to stab at your chest.

“i treat you right!” he snapped, adjusting his harsh grip on your thigh, pulling you closer to him—if that was even possible, and you had no doubts your hip and thigh would be speckled with pink bruises tomorrow.

“i know you do!” you cried out at the new angle.

“say it!”

“i— you— mmm,” you sputtered out, barely able to comprehend anything beyond the warm feeling bursting through your core.

“say. it.”

dean’s voice was low and downright scary. you’d never once had dean be so demanding and sinister towards you, or been fucked so roughly by him either. it made your heart race and your body shiver.

“you treat me right, d-dean!” you moaned, letting the hot tears in your eyes finally fall.

“that’s right, i do, baby. i love you. that’s why we’re so good together, yeah?” he replied breathlessly, now with an air of desperation dancing around in his words.

you nodded pathetically at his words, your scrunched up face mirroring dean’s as you both veered on the edge together. dean turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to your ankle and then leaned his head against it as he looked down at your pitiful self. you could feel the sweat from his hairline on your skin and the sparks erupting from the minuscule contact he was finally allowing you to have.

“so close, sweetheart, aren’t you? squeezing me like crazy. just let go. i’ve got you,” he huffed out, his voice a touch softer than before, but still gruff and winded.

his softened tone forced the band in your stomach to finally snap, sending a shockwave of pleasure flooding your body. your pussy fluttered around dean’s cock, clamping down on his throbbing member, triggering his own release. he spilt his pearly white load into your gummy walls, finally slowing down his harsh unrelenting thrusts into a mess of weak movements.

“fuck— fuck, sweetheart,” he moaned gutturally and finally came to a still inside you, “fucking love you.”

dean pressed another hot kiss to your ankle before carefully dropping your leg back down onto the mattress and collapsing on top of you, letting your sweaty bodies finally press against each other. your chest surged with a warm feeling at his weight on top of you, finally feeling his body against yours. he buried his head into your neck, his heavy breaths tickling your skin as you panted together, coming down from the overexertion.

“i love you too,” you mumbled weakly, barely coherent as you shook beneath him. you wrapped your arms around his torso—there was no way you were letting him go, not when it felt so right to finally have him against you like this.

“i know you do, baby. i’m so sorry for today… m’so sorry,” dean murmured weakly into your neck and began pressing gentle kisses just below your ear, his soft earnest words tugging at your heartstrings.

“it’s okay,” you managed to get out, letting your head loll back with your eyes closed. one of your hands found its way to the hair at dean’s nape, and you gently threaded your fingers through it. “i’m sorry too. let’s— let’s not even worry about it, okay? let’s just be here… like this.”

“mmm,” dean hummed against your skin, “can do…”

you hummed in return and laid beneath him, trying to calm down from the high you’d both just reached. your racing heart began to slow down into a steady rhythm, and dean’s breathing against your neck began to settle.

after a short beat of silence, dean spoke up in a soft but playful tone, “hey, sweetheart? i just have to say it. i’m not sorry for punching that asshole in the face.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his words and the cheeky grin you could feel against your neck. he was back. your dean was back. all the previous anger and tension from before had been stripped away completely, and dean’s raspy laughter filled the air with yours.

“yeah, ‘course you’re not, macho man,” you teased quietly, your voice saccharine and soft as you played with his hair.

dean lifted his head to look down at you, his green eyes flickering between yours. he looked almost boyish in his expression; no more creased brows, no more curled lips, or narrowed eyes. just dean. your dean.

“i’d do anything to protect you… to keep you, you know that? i’d punch any asshole in the face for you.”

“well, you know technically it wasn’t for me, it was—”

you grunted as dean’s lips met yours, shutting you up with a gentle kiss, much softer than the rough demanding ones from earlier. you felt him smile into it, and you knew all the animosity had been set aside and forgotten, which in turn, made your own lips curve into a smile.

fig yaps: posting this on valentine’s day feels wrong omg anyways i literally wrote the first two thirds of this in like… november i wanna say???? shit lives in my drafts too long LOL i loved writing angry/angsty dean tho like he just wants to be loved PLS my sweet little lovebug he’s so hot BYE

feedback and reblogs are welcome and appreciated! thank yaaa <3

✩ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @aileenunfiltered @minettacreekk @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @daylighted @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @misatxox @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @starzify @dulcescorderitas @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate @k-slla

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[bluemerakis]

call me a fish bc the last line had me HOOKED

EPISODE ONE – "pretty little thing"

a soldier boy x innocent!reader mini series series masterlist

he sees you before you see him. all wide-eyed innocence wrapped up in something too soft, too delicate for a place like this. you don’t belong—not in a bar like this, not surrounded by the kind of men who take what they want without asking. you’re something sweet in a room full of rot, and maybe that’s why he can’t stop looking at you.

but the real kicker? you walked in anyway.

you stepped into the lion’s den, wrapped in something soft and powdery pink, like you didn’t realize you were putting yourself on display. like you didn’t feel the weight of every gaze snapping toward you, some more lingering than others. but his? his is different. his is locked in, razor-sharp, dark with interest.

he waits. watches. lets you squirm a little.

your fingers are fidgeting with the hem of your dress, your lips pursed like you’re trying to make yourself small. but you feel it, don’t you? the way his gaze burns, how it drags over the curve of your throat, your bare shoulders, the hint of lace peeking from beneath your neckline. you’re pretending not to notice, pretending not to know exactly who he is.

that’s cute.

he could drag this out, let you shift under his gaze, let you pretend you don’t feel the air thickening between you. but he’s never been a patient man.

his boots hit the floor heavy as he moves, making sure you hear him before he even reaches you. he’s big, broad, all heat and dominance when he settles beside you at the bar. the bartender barely acknowledges him—one look is all it takes for them to pour him a drink, no questions asked. but you? you’re frozen, stiff, your hands going still in your lap.

“you lost, sweetheart?” his voice is rough, tinged with amusement, like he already knows the answer.

you don’t look at him right away, like you think ignoring him might make him disappear. that just makes him smirk.

finally, your head tilts, those big doe eyes blinking up at him, and fuck, that does something to him.

“no,” you murmur, voice soft, barely above the hum of the room.

his grin widens. “no?” he parrots, resting an arm against the bar, his frame caging you in. “then what’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

you hesitate, lips parting like you’re gonna answer, but nothing comes out.

he chuckles, low and rough, fingers reaching out before you can even think to flinch. he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering at the delicate curve of your jaw.

“bet nobody’s ever laid a hand on you, huh?” his voice drops lower, more private, just for you. his thumb drags along the slope of your chin, teasing, barely-there, but enough to make you inhale sharply. “not the way i would.”

your breath stutters, the kind of sound that makes him want to push. test how much he can take before you snap, before you turn into something desperate, something pliant just for him.

he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath warm. “what’s the matter, sweetheart?” it’s taunting and sweet all at once, a cruel little contrast. “scared?”

you don’t say yes.

but you don’t say no either.

and that’s all the answer he needs.

he grins, slow and easy, leaning back just enough to look at you properly. there’s something so damn satisfying about the way your lashes flutter, the way your lips tremble like you don’t trust yourself to speak.

yeah. he’s gonna have fun with this.

taglist

@jasvtsc @angelackless @soldiersgirl @soangelbaby @figthoughts @cowboysandcigarettes @dulcescorderitas @clairereadin @bluemerakis @sl33pylilbunny @ilovedilfs-4-ever @lunaleah @sydneytommostyles comment to be added

[bluemerakis]

pls get carried away more often 🫵

patch you up — dean winchester

pairing dean winchester x fem!reader

warnings smut | foreplay | unprotected p in v (do not try at home 😱😱)

SPN MASTERLIST

The last vampire went down after a brutal tag-team effort, Dean landing the decapitating blow with a grunt of satisfaction. He turned to you, ready with some cocky remark, but froze when he saw the gash along your shoulder, blood seeping through your torn sleeve.

“We need to get out. Now.” His voice was sharp, harsher than he meant.

“There’s still more,” you argued, glancing around the dark room.

“I don’t care.” He grabbed your wrist, checking for injuries before pulling you toward the door. “We’ll handle it later. Move.”

—

He’d offered you his jacket, but you’d declined. This was not how he’d dreamed it. You sat in the passenger seat of his baby, your dress torn and bloodied, your face sour, refusing to look at him. He heard you take a deep breath and braced himself for your snide comment.

“What were you thinking? You could have gotten us killed.” You didn’t even sound mad, you stated it like a fact.

He couldn’t help but do a double take as he processed your words. “Me? We had a plan, and that wasn’t it. What were you thinking, going off alone with them?”

“I had to think on my feet, and it was going perfectly until you barged in and fucked it all up. God I am so sick of you.”

“Perfect my ass! Putting yourself in dange-”

“I was fine, you put me in danger.” He opened his mouth to interject but you continued, going full rant. “They saw you sniffing around the club, and when you broke in, they saw you on the CCTV. It wasn’t exactly hard to put two plus two together. You always do this, you underestimate me. I am not some damsel in distress, I can handle myself.”

The air was thick with bitter tension as he drove the rest of the way to the motel in silence. He didn’t like you going off alone like that, but maybe you had a point. Hunting wasn’t exactly the safest of jobs, and you’d made it this far without him. He should have apologised or tried to smooth things over, but instead, he asked, “Well, princess, will you at least let me patch you up?”

You watched with furrowed brows as he cocked his thumb to point at his room. He’d expected you to ignore him and head for your own room, but you agreed with a nod and crossed your arms as you followed him inside.

He didn’t try getting you to sit in his lap. You sat yourself on the end of the bed as he located his makeshift first-aid pack.

“Should I put the TV on?” He asks, knowing it’ll likely be a long, quiet process if not. 

You glare, and he knows he shouldn’t be, but he’s reminded of the look you’d given him across the dancefloor earlier and everything else he’s associated with it. Eventually, you answer. “Whatever.”

He sighs, switches on the TV, and begins patching you up in silence. He tries to be gentle, but the alcohol makes you hiss and groan as he cleans you up. Every moan evokes an indecent image that makes his skin burn with inappropriate arousal. He wonders if you sound the same in bed.

When the worst of the damage is patched up, he starts cleaning up the excess blood, checking for any he might have missed. Blood from the cut across your chest has gathered and congealed in your cleavage. He hooks a finger on the low neckline of your dress and looks to your face for approval. You’re unbothered, eyes fixated on the TV screen with such distaste he wonders if inanimate objects can take offence.

He tugs at the dress, not enough to expose anything but enough to get your attention. You glance down at his hand, then to his face, and shrug before diverting your attention back to the TV. Taking that as permission, he pulls your dress down, almost certainly too far. He takes an involuntary moment to soak in the image, blood and bandages included, you were a vision in your lacy black bra.

Your deliberate coughing brought him back to the present, and he made quick work of cleaning your chest, avoiding your gaze as he worked. When he was done, you pulled your dress back up without delay. You made no move to get up, and he made no effort to move you. Instead, you continued to sit in awkward silence. Both of you too stubborn to speak first.

When you finally broke the silence, you didn’t sound angry anymore, just tired, worried. “The rest of the nest is gonna be on our trail.”

“I know.” He conferred, trying to match your energy. “But it’s almost sunrise, we have time to rest and regroup before tomorrow night.”

“And will I be allowed to fight them, or would you like to cover me in bubble wrap?” Your voice still lacked malice, just sarcasm.

Without taking the time to think through his words, Dean replied. “You can do whatever you want. Just don’t blame me when you get yourself killed, or worse turned.”

“There you go again.” You leaned away from him, rolling your eyes, exasperated. “All your mouth does is talk dumb shit.”

“My mouth does plenty, thank you very much.”

“Like what?” You ask, tone defiant as you watch him through your lashes. The words were wrong, but the intense gaze matched his fantasy. He half expected you to reach out and pull him in for a kiss. When you don’t, he does it for you. You taste like salt and booze, but your lips are so soft, they melt right into his.

When you pull away, he braces himself for you to yell, or punch, or leave, but instead, your eyes rake over his face. He notices the heat in his cheeks when you comment, “Are you blushing, Winchester? Because of me?”

“No, it’s hot in here.” He replies curtly, still not wanting to give you the upper hand. 

“Funny.” You aren’t laughing as you look around the room. “I’m pretty cold.”

“You lost a lot of blood. That’s one of the symptoms.”

“Isn’t delirium also a symptom. If it’s that bad, are you taking advantage of me?” You raise brows at him, challenging him.

In return, he shoots you with the most puppy-dog concerned face he can muster. “Are you? Delirious? Should we stop?”

“No, get back over here and kiss me.” Now you reach for him, placing both hands on his cheeks and pulling him closer until your lips lock again. Mid kiss, you straddle him, holding him still with your arm around his neck as you begin to grind against his clothed erection.

He paws at the skirt of your dress until you get the hint and pull it over your head. He only gets a second to enjoy the view before you return the gesture, lifting his shirt up until he finishes the job for you. By the time he’s done, you’ve removed your bra as well. He greets the unobstructed sight of your breasts by planting himself between them, lavishing them with his mouth, sucking and nibbling at your nipples as you roll your hips against him.

Offering you reprieve, he pulls back to watch you as he dips his hand into your panties, happy to be greeted by the slick between your folds. Not bothering to tease, he plunges a finger straight in, enjoying the way your heat immediately clenches around him. He pumps the solo digit a few times before adding a second and a third, and you take each one perfectly. The sounds you make are just how he’d dreamed it, but also somehow better.

The best sound is the squeal you make as he quickly retracts his fingers and switches your position, laying you flat on your back as he straddles your thighs. You take it in your stride, however, and plant your hands on his shoulder before slipping them down his chest to hook into the waistband of his jeans. You work together to undo his belt and jeans. Dean shimmies them down just low enough to expose his dick. You must like what you see because he notices the way you lick your lips at the sight. He makes a mental note to see about putting your mouth to good use at a later time.

Your whole body seems to shiver when he runs the tip of his hardened cock between your slit, deliberately circling your clit.

“You like that?” He coos.

You respond by pushing him off you. He concedes, rolling onto his back and letting you mount him once again. “Shut up.”

He laughs but otherwise does as he’s told, barely able to keep his composure as he takes in the sight of you. You grip his cock, pumping a few times before you start lining him up with your entrance, and he prays you don’t mock his blushing again.

You don’t say anything, but you lock eyes with him as you slide his cock between your lips and sink down onto him. Fuck, you feel so fucking good, better than he could have imagined. Your walls are tight and wet around him, and he can’t help but grip onto your hips, not to force you down, but to make sure you don’t retreat.

When you reach the base, you seize all movement, presumably allowing yourself to adjust, but he can’t help rocking his hip beneath you. You both groan in sync at the feeling.

“Impatient.” You scold, but your voice is soft and dreamy.

“Can’t help it.” He returns, thrusting up again and enjoying the way your eyes roll back in response. “You feel too good, you take it so well.”

You glare at him, challenging him as you reposition your feet, readying to start, and he bites his lip in anticipation.

With no further warning, you start riding him, setting a fast, reckless pace, and releases your hips to fists at the sheets, trying to distract himself from the fact he’s already about to blow his load.

“I think I’m gonna-”

He’s cut off by the immediate narrowing of your eyes. “Don’t you dare, not until I’ve cum first. You owe me.”

“Fuck. Yes ma’am.”  He groans through gritted teeth as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock.

It’s agonising, watching you sway above him, taking what you want from his body. He watches with bated breath as you start to play with your clit, pleasuring yourself. His whole-body jerks, trying to hold back when he feels your walls squeeze around him.  You lol your head back, moaning to the ceiling when you finally hit your climax.

Your body slows as you try to catch your breath, but it’s Dean's turn. He sits up, lifting you by your ass just enough to ease the process of him rutting up into your leaking cunt.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum deep inside you.” He chants.

You nod, blasé and tell him; “Do it.”

As if on demand, he shoots his load, spilling inside you with a loud, animalistic groan.

Your weight falls on him, your head resting against his shoulder. He feels his own energy slowly draining as well, but that doesn’t stop him from placing absentminded kisses on the back of your neck as he carefully falls back against the bed, taking you with him. Of everything that had happened that night, cuddling was the most surprising to him.

After a few minutes he speaks up, shifting to guide you back up. His soft cock slips out, and he feels his own cum drip back onto him. “We should get cleaned up.”

“Yeah.” You nod, taking his queue, standing from bed, and heading for the bathroom to get cleaned up. “And we should really start working on a plan nightfall.”

“Maybe we should get some rest first. Regroup when we're not both exhausted.”

“Are you kidding.” Your head pokes out of the bathroom door. “They could be on our trail right now… What?”

“Nothin’.” He shrugs. All the tension you’d just released together was already building back up. “You just don’t ever fucking change.”

tags: @ultravi0lence14 @beausling @bluemerakis @chevroletdean @dulcescorderitas @deansbeer @figthoughts @florchids @haunteres @h8aaz @j2archives @rafespreciosa @sunsbaby @soldiersgirl @sunsettsam @titsout4jackles @turnerrst @whisperingdaze

cassie chats: i was gonna make this a lil drabble but my freaky ass got carried away 💔💔

[bluemerakis]

SCRRAMING

FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─ㅤDEAN & LITTLE FOX ! READER !

" take a look at the sky just before you die — it's the last time you will ! "

file. all the man who never prayed wanted was someone that would listen and hear him. beggars could not be choosers when it came to the listening ears that lent themselves.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ———

dean came to terms with the simple fact that he, as a single individual in an undersaturated business, could not save everyone. but when he watched as you fell from the sky that night, he wished only for the ability to save you.

something had happened in the confines of the clouds before you fell. blood stained your face, your teeth, your pouting lips. your eyes were glossed in utter devastation, the front of the cream-colored silk slip you wore glossy maroon, clinging to your skin.

but it was not any of these details that made dean determined to help, in whatever way he could. it was the wings, wide and bright and untouched on your back. they glimmered like dusts of glitter upon feathers underneath the moonlight, something made of beauty attached to something that looked so wrong to the images in his head.

you don't look at him as you wail into your blood stained palms, the sound of your broken cries ricocheting around the forest, bouncing between tree trunk to tree trunk, muffled in the wind and in between the leaves.

dean doesn't exactly know what to do in this situation. a lot weighed heavily on him, and sure, a few times in these last few months had he begged for someone in the stars to just hear him, but he didn't expect for that someone to fall.

you looked like he felt — broken and shattered and damned. you were beautiful, though, in your ruins.

your red rimmed eyes shift up to meet his at the first sound of grass crunching beneath his feet, daring a step closer.

"what happened?" feels like too harsh of a way to address something so wounded, but it's all he has to offer you. the hand that hovers awkwardly in the dead space between the both of you doesn't seem to be working any miracles for your state, either.

you grasp at the silk clinging to your skin, your hand pulling away shiny and red. the sob you let out cracks through all of his armors and breaks him. "i don't know."

dean hadn't... ever seen an angel so human, before. so utterly unashamed of the tears staining your cheeks, so connected to the vessel you possess that you can't even seem to help yourself.

he'd help you.

hell, how many times had dean held crying girls in his arms and picked up their broken pieces for them? how many times had he clutched the loved ones of people overtaken by monsters, lost to the unnatural and the uncanny, and promised that it would be okay, even knowing that things would never again be the same for them?

you were not something that dean couldn't handle. that he hadn't already handled.

maybe he should have walked away. the gods and the angels didn't once answer him before, and somehow tonight, one literally lands directly in front of him? just for him?

something was off about it. unnatural, uncanny: but nothing that he hadn't dealt with before.

he crouches down to your level, and your eyes are striking. there is definitely something other about you, something a little off that people not trained in his expertise wouldn't pick up on. you could pass as a human more than any other angel could, but up close, he picked at the details with a finetooth comb.

your eyes were not blue, but purple. your ears were a little pointed at the tips. your grateful smile a little too cruel and unfeeling to be genuine. still, when he tried to find a word to describe you in his mind, he could only settle on beautiful, like no other word existed.

he might have asked you what you were. but his pessimism didn't seep all the way down to the marrow of his bones and his heart, and his heart screamed that you were an angel sent just for him. his angel. the one for him to keep safe, and to keep him afloat.

the words die on his tongue, and when staring at you starts to make your expression twist in his trick-playing eyes, you tilt your head up to look up at the starry skies.

"i haven't seen stars in forever," your voice is laced in awe, gaze flitting between each sparkling dot in the deep blue night, like you couldn't seem to settle on one.

dean wants to say, me neither. wants to lay beneath the canopies of leaves and drink in the rare moment of peace he's found here with you. this broken thing still taking the breaths to memorialize beauty through the pain inside of you.

instead, his mouth opens, and something less expected comes out. "come home with me."

there is that flicker in your eyes again. the something other that he can't seem to place, that he loses the moment he clocks it. again, all dean sees when your eyes meet his is that devastating purple, and a devastating amount of shimmering hope in them.

"home?"

dean's face flattens. "...is a motel, an hour or so away."

"a home is a home," you say, and the blood on your hand is dry now. dean knows it because you close the crusted fingers around his own, finally, and allow him to pull you to your feet. "i have not had a home in forever, either."

you won't get the innuendo or jest in his joke, but he says it anyways. "i get to be your first?"

your eyes dance now, those pretty lips once again wicked. "if only you were."

notes. short asf but u just need an intro... b4 we get juicy ok. AND IT'S GONNA GET JUICY QUUUUICK. I AM JUST WRITING THE FIRST TO SAM & TO DEAN TONIGHT SO IF I LET THEM GET LONG ASF IT WILL LIVE IN MY DRAFTS FOREVER </3 ok bye.

tags. @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @theosaurous @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @aileenunfiltered @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @sunsettsam @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling if u want added or taken off pls lmk <3

[bluemerakis]

i need to be called lovebird by dean asap rocky 😭

marked by cupid • happy valentine’s day !

— smut warning ! fingering, (gentle) choking, dean likes to watch, pet names, needy cupid, eager to please dean, cupid's inexperienced 18+ ! — j's note ! wrote this at 4am straight out of a fever dream (literally bc i have the flu) anyways if it sucks i'm sorry 2.6k words

You rise onto your tiptoes, hips pressing against the sink’s edge as you angle closer to the mirror, steadying the sleek golden tube between your fingers.

It’s a careful craft, applying red lipstick. One that demands patience. One wrong move, and fixing it is near impossible. No matter how much you wipe, a pink stain always lingers, a faint reminder. At least for a little while.

Your hand moves with careful precision, the smooth crimson sweeping over the natural flush of your lips like ink on parchment. The pigment is rich, deliberate, leaving behind a bold statement with every stroke. You press your lips together, perfecting the edges, when a shift in the mirror catches your eye.

Dean stands behind you, his broad shoulders filling the small frame, arms crossed as he watches with a bemused arch of his brow. The curiosity in his gaze is subtle, but it lingers, following the slow, practiced motions of your hand.

A smile creeps up on your ruby red lips, turning just enough to meet his eyes in the reflection. With a playful wave of the little golden tube, you toss over your shoulder, “Want some?” The coy smile you wear is as daring as the color itself.

“What? No.” He waves you off, flopping onto the edge of his bed with a huff, arms bracing against the mattress. “I just like to watch.”

“Mhm,” you hum, amusement curling in your tone as you twist the lipstick back into its tube and abandon it in the sink. You glance at him through the mirror, mischief sparking in your eyes. “Are you sure?”

Dean exhales sharply, already suspicious. “Yes, I’m sure—”

“Are you really, really sure?” You turn, stepping toward him slowly, deliberately, hands tucked behind your back like you’re hiding something.

His gaze narrows. “Lovebird, why are you looking at me like that?”

The distance between you disappears in measured steps until you’re standing between his legs. His breath stills as your fingers slide up, cradling his jaw in soft, steady hands. Before he can react, you lean down, pressing a firm, quick kiss to his cheek.

Dean jerks back, his hand flying to his face as you giggle, already knowing what you left behind. His fingers swipe over the spot, and when they come away smudged with red, he groans.

“Damn it, Cupid,” he grumbles, shooting you a halfhearted glare.

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “What?”

“You just—” He gestures vaguely, rubbing at his cheek, only managing to smear the stain further. “You marked me.”

The words make you pause, something warm and electric settling in your chest. Your smile softens, satisfaction washing over you in slow, lazy waves. Marking Dean.

Much can be said about a cupid’s curiosity—about yours in particular. Once a thought crosses your mind, it doesn’t simply pass through. It lingers, settles into the empty spaces, curling into the corners of your mind like an itch you can’t ignore.

“Dean?” Your voice is soft, almost innocent, but the weight of your intention is anything but. Your hands find his shoulders, grounding yourself as you slip into his lap, knees bracketing his hips.

He stiffens beneath you, muscles coiling tight. It’s not that you haven’t been in his lap before—you have, a few times. But always in a shared seat sort of way.

Not like this, and certainly not while you’re wearing a little pink dress.

Dean swallows, trying to maintain that stoic expression as his hands instinctively find your waist, broad and warm against your sides. But it doesn’t take long for them to move, sliding down to your hips, tugging at the hem of your dress like he can somehow will it to cover more of you. Like that extra inch of fabric might save him from the way his pulse is already kicking up.

“Mhm?” he hums, though there’s a slight strain in his brow, a telltale sign that he’s working hard—really hard—to keep himself in check.

You tilt your head, letting your fingers trace the curve of his shoulder as you lean in just a little closer. Close enough to see his pupils dilate, black invading the green and claiming more space.

“Can I mark you again?”

It’s a simple question. Sweet. Playful.

And absolutely, utterly unfair.

Dean’s grip on your hips tightens, fingers flexing against the thin fabric of your dress as he exhales a rough, breathy laugh. His eyes flicker across your face, scanning, searching, like he’s trying to figure out exactly what’s going on in that pretty, mischief-stirred head of yours. Curiosity gleams in your gaze, tangled with something softer, something just a little bit wicked.

Finally, he nods.

The dimple in his cheek deepens as he grins, and you don’t waste a second. Your fingers curl behind his neck, nails scratching lightly at the short hairs there as you lean in.

The first kiss is sweet, a playful press of your lips against the apple of his cheek. Then another. And another. Slow, deliberate, painting him in unmistakable red, each kiss a little more possessive than the last.

You trail lower, following the sharp line of his jaw, leaving smudged stains in your wake as you explore uncharted territory. The warmth of his skin meets the cool pigment of your lipstick, and something about the contrast sends a thrill down your spine.

When your lips press into the soft divot beneath the corner of his jaw, right where his pulse thrums beneath his skin, a quiet sound escapes him—a low, involuntary groan, barely audible but entirely unrestrained.

He stiffens beneath you, breath catching, fingers digging into your hips like he’s caught between pulling you closer and pushing you away.

And oh, you want to make him do that again.

The sound—deep, unguarded—lingers in the space between you, igniting something electric in your veins. Your lips tingle, the ghost of his skin still warm against them, and you wonder just how many more of those delicious little sounds you can pull from him if you keep going.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark now, heavy-lidded, the green swallowed up by something molten. There’s a hesitation there, a silent battle waging between logic and want.

He clears his throat, forcing out a rough chuckle, but it does little to mask the way his fingers still grip your hips like he’s holding himself back. “We should stop, right?”

Your lips—plump and smudged, a hazy reminder of every place they’ve been—pout slightly as you shake your head. “I don’t want to.”

It’s honest. Bare. No teasing lilt, no coy smile—just the simple truth, spoken like a confession.

And that confirmation is all Dean needed to hear.

His hands tighten on you, his restraint snapping like a frayed rope finally giving way. And this time, when he pulls you in, he isn’t holding back.

His lips crash against yours, claiming, devouring, a breath-stealing force of want and heat. One hand digs into your hip, fingers pressing into the curve like he’s anchoring himself, while the other slides up, calloused fingertips finding the sensitive space between your neck and jaw. He grips, not harshly but firmly, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, to pull you closer, like he needs you under his skin.

It’s a heated mess of smudged lipstick, reds blending together in a haze of desperation, staining his lips, his jaw—evidence of just how thoroughly you’ve marked him. Every brush of his mouth against yours sends another spark racing through you, pooling low in your belly, an ache that’s all too familiar when it comes to him.

But this time, there’s no layers of denial, no careful restraint.

Just the heat between you, growing, pulsing, an insistent throb against the thin stretch of your panties where he presses against you—solid, unyielding, and so damn tempting. The pressure is intoxicating, and before you can stop yourself, your hips move, rocking against him in a slow, desperate grind.

Dean groans into your mouth, the sound deep and ragged, vibrating through you like a struck chord. His grip on you tightens, nails biting into the fabric of your dress as his own restraint frays at the edges.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, burning with the instinctive need to chase that friction, to feel more of him. The heat is unbearable, twisting inside you like a coiled spring, making you move harder, more deliberately.

“Need more, Dean.” Your voice is a breathy whimper, your lips parted, glossed with smudged red as you look up at him through lidded eyes, pouty and desperate.

His tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he takes you in, gaze darkening at the sight of you—flushed, needy, rolling against him without a second thought. He exhales sharply, his resolve crumbling with each slow drag of your hips.

He dips his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the contrast of tenderness against the heat between you making your stomach flip. “I can take care of that for you, sweetheart.”

Then, in one smooth motion, his arms shift—one curling under your thighs, the other pressing firm against the small of your back. He lifts you with effortless strength, adjusting himself against the headboard as he settles you more securely on his lap, spreading his legs just enough to ground you in place.

“Lift your hips for me.”

It’s a gentle command, but there’s no mistaking the weight behind it, the quiet authority that makes you obey without question. His hands guide you, steady and sure, fingers pressing firm into your skin as you shift your weight onto your knees, lifting just enough to let him take control.

Dean’s thumbs hook into the fabric of your dress, dragging it up, slow and deliberate, until it pools at your waist, leaving you exposed beneath him. The cool air kisses your thighs, a stark contrast to the heat rolling off your body, to the warmth of his touch as his palms skim over your navel, tracing the dip of your waist before sliding lower.

His hands map new territory, smoothing down, down, to the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His fingers graze the tender flesh, a barely-there touch that sends a sharp shiver rippling through you. Your body tenses, a quiet, involuntary tremor that makes Dean pause, his hands going still.

His gaze flicks up to yours, something unreadable flickering behind those deep green eyes, his touch hesitant now, gentle in a way that makes your heart ache. “We can stop here, love. It’s okay.”

His voice is quiet, rough around the edges, but so damn sincere it nearly undoes you.

But stopping now? When you’re this close, when every nerve in your body is alive with the need for more?

“No—please, no.” The words spill out in a breathless sigh, desperation laced into every syllable.

Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself, silently pleading. You don’t want space, don’t want hesitation—you just want him.

He nods, his breath warm against your skin as he leans down, his lips grazing your temple, trailing soft, almost reverent kisses down to your cheek. The sensation of each kiss sends a shiver down your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake as his fingers slip between your thighs, pressing gently into the space between them.

Your breath hitches, caught in your throat, as his touch moves lower, a slow, deliberate pressure against the fabric of your panties. The heat of his hand makes your body tremble, the delicate friction sending a surge of arousal through you, already soaking through the thin material.

The world narrows to the feel of him, his touch, his heat, everything else fading as his other hand wraps around the expanse of your neck. His grip is firm but not punishing, the hold just enough to tilt your head back, exposing you, leaving you vulnerable to him in the most intimate of ways.

Before you can think, his lips are on yours again, pulling you into a kiss that’s urgent, hungry, a perfect mix of passion and desperation. It’s all heat and yearning as his mouth claims yours, his fingers never ceasing their teasing, pressing against you with just the right amount of pressure, coaxing the response he wants from you as you moan into his open mouth. 

He shoves your panties to the side, allowing space for his middle and index finger to plunge inside. His thumb presses into your clit, massaging and coaxing more sounds from your parted lips. 

You sink deeper into his hand as he pumps in and out, reeling in the feeling and wanting more. 

His lips leave yours, his lazy smirk back in place as the hand around your neck finds your hip again, “here,” he nods, eyes flickering over you, his satisfaction in watching you like this evident in the glow of his eyes. In the smile tugging at his lips. 

“Move with me,” his eyes lock with yours as the hand on your hip guides you to rock against his hand. 

Your hips follow his guide at first, but it’s too slow, too soft—your head drops, forehead against his shoulder as you grind your hips harder against his working hand. The wet sound of his knuckles coated in your arousal fills the room as his forearm flexes, his rhythm unrelenting. 

The tension coiling in your stomach makes your breathing uneven, your thighs tightening around his. “Dean—“ you gasp, and it almost sounds like a question. Like you’re unsure of how to chase this feeling. 

“That’s it, lovebird,” he whispers, his hand wrapping around your neck again with the slightest squeeze, “let go for me.” 

His grip on your neck is just enough to make your mind go numb for a second. His hand working waves of pleasure, pumping into your core and breaking into your release. 

He can’t get enough of the sight—his eyes drinking up the way your body tightens and temples at his touch. Watching his fingers claim the space no other man has gone. Your slick heat, pooling around his fingers, just for him. 

Your hips buck and twitch, riding the come down as you collapse into his chest. 

Dean’s hand glides along your spine, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in the aftermath. “You alright, little love?” His voice is softer now, a low rumble edged with something tender, something just for you.

You lift your head from where it had rested against his shoulder, the world still hazy around the edges as you blink up at him. Your cheeks are warm, flushed with pleasure, your breath still a little unsteady. But it’s the sight of him that nearly steals what’s left of it—Dean, utterly marked, his face a canvas of smudged red where your lips had claimed him. A streak across his jaw, a mark on his cheekbone, the ghost of your kisses staining the very curve of his mouth.

Your stomach flutters at the sight, at the proof of what you’ve done to him. A slow, sweet smile spreads across your lips, teasing and triumphant. “We should do that more often.”

Dean huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as his grip tightens around your waist. His lips curl into that cocky, dimpled smirk that always makes your stomach flip.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement.

Before you can tease him back, he moves, rolling you onto your back with effortless ease. A surprised giggle bursts from your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by the warmth of his mouth pressing light, playful kisses along your neck. His stubble grazes your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he hums against your pulse.

“I think we just might,” he whispers, his promise sealed in the way his lips linger against your skin.

tags <3 @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deansbeer @bluemerakis @ultravi0lence14 @dulcescorderitas @snowluvvie @jadenreallycool @soldiersgirl @abox-of-rocks

[bluemerakis]

sub!dean my beloved <3

A lil bit of sub!Dean for your entertainment ✨

Deans body hit the mattress below him as you gently pushed him down onto it, lying amongst the pillows with a dull grunt. His dark forest eyes followed your movements as you crawled upon the bed, your thighs straddled along side of him.

He was breathless, reaching out to touch your skin only for you to grab his wrists; pinning them up either side of his head. “Baby… please, lemme touch you.” Dean tried to free himself, but to no avail.

“Nuh uh… not yet.” Your hips moved to sit above his, feeling his arousal growing by the second. You leaned down, your face in line with his; you could see the desperation in his eyes.

“You touch me, I stop.” His eyebrows scrunched, wanting to object- but god he couldn’t resist when you’d take control like this; responding with a nod.

“You’re so pretty, Winchester…” you purred, your tongue swiping along his full lips, pressing a kiss to them before moving down his jaw, sucking tiny, red love bites onto his skin. Deans breaths slowly became jagged, sighing as your hips slowly started to rock along his.

You trailed further, teasingly placing delicate smooches on the side of his neck. He couldn’t help but whisper your name, his tone so sweet- laced with desperation and need, becoming putty under your spell.

As soon as your lips met the skin just under his ear, sucking on that sensitive skin he knew he was done for; a mixture of a groan and a whine erupting from his chest as you continued your assault on his neck; marking him as yours.

Pulling away, you admired your artwork, your hands still pinning his wrists to the sheets- seeing deans yearning, glossy eyes and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, wanting- needing more of you. “Sweetheart… I can’t wait- I need you, I need all of you.” Dean begged, bucking his hips up for any friction that he could get.

“What do you say first Dean?” You cooed, eyes flicking up to meet his, waiting for his reply. “P-please…” he murmured, pleadingly glancing up at you. “Sorry baby, I didn’t quite hear you…” you were being a damn tease, and he was in blissful agony. “Fuck- please, please baby I need you, please- use me, fuck me- just please, do something…”

A devilish smirk spread across your face as you leaned down, a breath away from his lips. “There we go… was that so hard?” You faux pouted, poking at his bottom lip.

“I’ll give you what you want baby… don’t you worry, just gotta be good for me yeah?” He nodded rapidly. “I-I will, i promise- just, please…” he pleaded before you pressed your lips on his, sighing softly as he tasted you… his body tingling in excitement as he waited for what you were going to give him…

Tags <3: @bluemerakis @ambiguousavery

[bluemerakis]

YESSSSS WE ARE SO HERE FOR NAT’S SPOILZ❗️❗️❗️

ULTRAVI0LENCE14 VALENTINE’S SPECIAL

hi friends!! since it’s valentine’s day tomorrow i wanted to roll out a special treat for all my cute lil valentine’s (my adorable mooties and everyone who follows me💋). so all of tomorrow, i will be updating as much as pearl reprise and fall from grace as i can!! (this is mainly coming from the fact that i’ll be on a train for nine hours and will need something to keep me busy, but i wanted it to be a treat for all!!)

WHERE CUPID’S ARROW LANDS

PEARL REPRISE - coral reef

FALL FROM GRACE - riling me up

ALTERNATE ADVENTURES - witch!reader

PEARL REPRISE - heart of the ocean

FALL FROM GRACE - stolen glances

MY VALENTINE’S: @starzify @whisperingdaze @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deansbeer @bluemerakis @sunsbaby @deanangel @figthoughts @haunteres @dulcescorderitas @florchids @honeyryewhiskey @h8aaz

[bluemerakis]

not-so-smooth dean be like

Hi it's me again lovely~ 💜 I hope you are keeping well! It's 34 Celsius here and upon (re)discovering Supernatural was mostly filmed across Vancouver in Canada, we never really get to see the boys have any summer moments!

So in my thirst and need for distraction, could I please request that after finishing up a case the boys and reader are just trying to cool down after an unexpected heatwave?

Dean managed to put some sodas on ice in the cooler box since alcohol of any kind would just result in a headache. Reader on the other hand, has surprised them with ice lollies, and while it's a thoughtful idea with the motel's aircon being packed up, Dean is still getting pretty damn hot watching reader suck an ice lolly (innocently, of course... 😈) so he decides to go on an evening walk.

Thank you again for your previous piece, I look forward to reading this one too! ✨

the sun was relentless, bearing down in waves that shimmered off the cracked asphalt of the motel parking lot. the impala sat there like a beacon of heat, metal too scalding to touch, its black paint drinking in the late afternoon sun. inside the room, the little wall-mounted aircon had given up sometime around noon, leaving nothing but a weak, useless hum and the occasional splutter of warm air.

"this is actual hell," dean groaned, sprawled out on one of the lumpy motel beds. his shirt was rucked up, exposing sweat-slick skin, and he had one hand lazily draped over his face like that might somehow shield him from the oppressive heat.

sam, ever the practical one, was perched in the rickety chair by the window, flipping through lore books like the heat didn’t bother him. it did, though—his hair was sticking to his forehead, and he kept fidgeting like he couldn’t quite get comfortable.

"could be worse," sam offered, flipping a page. "at least we’re not dealing with heatstroke."

dean let out a humorless laugh. "speak for yourself. my brain is melting."

the only saving grace was the cooler box by the bed, filled with ice and a handful of sodas. alcohol was out of the question—heat like this and beer would just end in dehydration and a monster of a headache. he fished out a can, pressing it against his neck before cracking it open.

then you walked in, and dean nearly choked on his first sip.

"okay, so," you announced, holding up a plastic bag like it contained the holy grail, "since the AC is officially dead and we're all about to combust, i got us a little something."

dean squinted at the bag, too heat-drunk to process anything past the glisten of condensation on your skin and the way your tank top clung to your chest. then you pulled out the ice lollies, bright and colorful and practically glowing with promise.

"oh," sam said, perking up. "nice."

you tossed him one, then made a show of tearing the wrapper off yours with your teeth before sliding the frozen treat past your lips. dean had to look away—except he really, really didn’t.

you were just trying to cool down, nothing more, but god help him, the way your tongue darted out to catch a stray drop of melted juice? the way your lips wrapped around the ice like you were savoring it? he felt sweat bead at the back of his neck, and it had nothing to do with the weather.

he shifted, clearing his throat. "gonna take a walk."

sam glanced up from his book. "dude, it's still like ninety degrees out."

"yeah, well." dean grabbed another soda from the cooler and popped the tab. "figured it'd be cooler once the sun starts going down."

the truth was, he just needed to get the hell out of there before he said or did something stupid. watching you enjoy that ice lolly with such innocent obliviousness was short-circuiting his brain in ways he didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with.

he shoved his free hand into his pocket and stepped outside, walking toward the impala and hoping the evening breeze would do something—anything—to cool him the hell down.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @sunnyteume

[bluemerakis]

Dean if you don’t get your shit tg rn istg…

CASUAL , TWO ⸻ dean winchester

warnings dean winchester x fem!reader, unrequited love, fwb, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, praise, explicit language, angst, arguing, dean being a scared lil bitch, nsfw, 18+, ꒰ part 2 of my ‘casual’ mini series ꒱

Dean knew he was asking for a lot the moment he hit the call button. He leaned against the creaky wall of the random, rundown motel room he had booked. His mind was racing, though he wasn't really sure why. He just needed a distraction, something to pull him out of the mess inside his head, and you—well, you always knew how to make him feel better.

He'd heard that you were on a case nearby, and now, here he was. Again. Calling you like it was nothing, like your last time together didn't feel... different.

While on the other end you had stared at your phone for what felt like an eternity, your thumb hovering over Dean's name. You knew what he wanted. You always did. It wasn't a mystery why Dean was calling you up out of the blue at 1am.

Your first instinct was to ignore him. You didn't need this—didn't need to be his go-to when he needed an escape. Lately, every time you thought of him, it felt like your heart cracked a little more. And despite his emotional distance you couldn’t help yourself.

"Dean?" You voice crackled through the phone as you picked up the call.

"Hey, uh... You still in the area?" he asked, trying to sound casual. You sighed on the other end, and Dean could already feel your hesitation. "Yeah, I'm around.”

"Good. There's this motel a few miles off the highway. Thought maybe you could, I don't know, come ‘round?"

"I don't think I can," you said, your voice softer now, but firm. "I'm busy."

Dean frowned, pushing off the wall and pacing. "C'mon, y/n. Just a couple of hours. It's not like we haven't done this before."

A sarcastic chuckle left your lips, sounding almost bitter. "Exactly, Dean. We've done this before. Too many times."

"Yeah, but—" Dean started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't sure what the hell he was supposed to say to that. It wasn't like he could argue with you. You both knew what the deal was. Casual, no strings, no messy emotions.

But still, he found himself pushing. "I just need you, okay? For tonight. Just to get out of my head." Dean could feel his heart thudding against his ribcage.

It wasn't supposed to be that complicated.

You wanted to say no. You should say no. You knew that you’d leave feeling emptier than when you came, like you always did, yet the thought of not seeing him at all—that was even worse. You hated it. Hated yourself for it. It was ridiculous, really, how you kept giving in, knowing how things would end.

"Fine," you finally said. "I'll be there."

When you arrived at the motel, the familiar sight of Dean's black Impala parked outside brought a lump to your throat. You’d convinced yourself on the way over that you’d keep your guard up this time, that you wouldn't let him get under your skin. But the moment you walked into that damn room and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, all your defenses began to crumble.

He stood up, giving you that same tired smile you’d seen a hundred times before. "Hey."

"Hi," you echoed, crossing your arms over your chest, trying not to let your frustration show. You weren’t here to fight—not yet, anyway. But the weight of everything unsaid was suffocating you.

But Dean wasted no time, stepping toward you and pulling you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both urgent and needy. You wanted to push him away, tell him this wasn't what you wanted anymore, but damn it, your body betrayed you. You kissed him back, letting yourself get lost in him for a moment, because it was easier than dealing with the truth.

You two fell back onto the bed, lost in each other like you had countless times before. For a little while, you could forget. You could pretend that this wasn't just about the physical, that maybe, just maybe, there was something more between the two of you. But deep down, you knew better.

Dean’s body pressed more firmly against yours, his chest solid and warm as it met yours, adjusting himself just enough so that he was hovering above you. His tongue pushed gently against your lower lip before slipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You moaned quietly, hands finding his hair, tugging lightly at the nape of his neck as his hands traveled down your sides, leaving goosebumps all over your body.

You could feel his growing erection pressing against you, slowly grinding himself back and forth on your core. The urgency in his movements made you feel wanted, desired, but at the same time you felt empty, just wanting it to be over.

Dean tugged at the waistband of your jeans, pulling them off within a matter of seconds before he freed himself from his own clothes, leaving you both bare.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He mumbled, the words leaving his lips almost unconsciously. Of course he thought that you were stunning, but maybe it meant a lot more to you than he realized.

You inhaled sharply as you felt Dean’s finger teasing your entrance, smirking as he felt how wet you’ve gotten over the course of a few seconds. You surely couldn’t deny the fact that he turned you on.

“Soaked already?” He chuckled, making you nod hastily.

Grabbing your hips he secured you onto the mattress, pressing you down gently before he pushed his aching tip past your entrance, a loud moan escaping your lips. Your walls clenched around him almost immediately, making him groan.

“Fuck sweetheart, that tight cunt ‘s sucking me right in.”

You let out another moan, eyes fluttering shut as you felt his cock filling you up to the brim, a perfect fit. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he almost pulled himself out completely before slamming right back in, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“Hngh..shit—“ you hissed, your nails digging into his back, skin slapping against skin echoing through the motel room.

Dean's hand moved to cup your ass, his fingers digging in slightly as he pulled you closer with each thrust, craving every single inch of your body. As he continued to fuck you at a steady pace you felt yourself getting closer, clenching around his thick cock.

Dean was quick to redirect his hand in between your bodys, finding your clit, and circling the sensitive nub to drive you completely over the edge. You could feel your body tensing up, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level.

“Dean, I’m gonna—“ you whined out before the band in your stomach snapped, cumming hard all over his cock.

"That's it, baby.” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, not even noticing the little petname that had slipped past his lips.

He gave you a few more hard thrusts before letting out a loud groan himself, feeling his dick twitch as he came deep inside of you, painting your walls white with his cum, and leaving both of you breathless.

Dean fell down beside you in the quiet aftermath, the soft glow from the motel's flickering light casting shadows on the walls, staring up at the ceiling like he always did. It was so routine by now that you could almost predict his every move.

But tonight, something felt different. The silence between you was heavier than usual, and you felt a knot forming in your chest. You waited for him to say something, anything, but when he finally spoke, his words cut through you like a knife.

"You’re so good at this stuff. It’s like you were made for it.”

You froze. Made for it? Your heart sank. The casualness of his words, the thoughtless way he dismissed whatever connection you two had, made you feel sick. You sat up quickly, eyes burning with anger and hurt. "That's all I am to you? A fucking hooker?”

Dean turned to you, clearly confused. "What? That’s not- Why are you suddenly acting like this?"

Your anger was burning up, but so was your pain. It wasn't just this moment; it was all of it. Everything you’d been holding back for so long, everything you’d swallowed down, was bubbling to the surface. "Why wouldn't I act like this, Dean? Last time we met, we literally had dinner with your brother, and you fucked me in the bathroom like some random slut who’s hopping on anyone’s dick. And now you wonder why I'm bitter?"

Dean blinked, caught off guard. "That was just... it wasn’t—You know how it is with us."

"No, Dean," you shot back, voice shaking. "I thought I knew how it was. But apparently, I've been fooling myself this whole time. I hate that I let this drag on so long, and now, I hate myself for it."

Dean sat up, running a hand through his hair. This was exactly what he was afraid of. "I thought we were on the same page here, y/n.”

This was just how things were, right? Casual. No complications.

"I'm not just someone you can call when you're bored or need to get out of your head," you continued, voice breaking. "I deserve more than that, and the fact that I've let this go on for so long—it kills me. Because I hate that I've let myself care about someone who clearly doesn't care about me."

Dean's heart sank at your words. He'd always known you were more than just a quick fix for his demons, but hearing it laid out like that? It stung. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't know how to fix this.

"y/n...I-" Dean began, his voice soft, almost pleading. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that. I didn't—"

You cut him off, shaking your head as tears welled up in your eyes. "It doesn't matter, Dean. What's done is done. I just... I can't keep doing this. Not like this."

The room fell silent again, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. Dean stared at you, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening. He wanted to say something, anything to make it right, but the truth was, he didn't know how.

But what he knew was that the thing between you two wasn’t as casual as he pretended it to be, and that scared the shit out of him. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

You stood up, heart pounding in your chest as you began putting on your clothes. You couldn't stay here—not when everything felt so raw, so exposed. Dean watched you, the guilt etched on his face, but he didn't say anything to stop you.

"I need to go," you said quietly, pulling on your jacket and heading for the door. You could feel his eyes on you.

"y/n.." Dean called after you, his voice almost too faint to hear.

You paused at the door, your hand resting on the knob, and for a brief second, you thought about turning back, thought about giving him one more chance. But you didn't. Instead, you opened the door and walked out, leaving Dean alone in that empty motel room.

He sat there, staring at the door long after it had closed, the weight of everything he hadn't said pressing down on him like heavy rain. He had no idea if you’d come back. And for the first time, he wasn't sure if he wanted you to. Because you deserved better than what he had to offer.

coming from first hand experience 😁 anyways..

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @beausling @angelicjackles @deansbite @figthoughts @deansenvy @chevroletdean @rubyvhs @sugardean @figurantedefilme @cosmicanakin @sammyluvr @nuemanfilms @titsout4nicholas

[bluemerakis]

kari fed us again 🤲

✶ MARKED BY SIN ݂ ౨᭪ ׂ 

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

📖 LIBRARY !

PAIRING. demon!dean x f!reader.

SYNOPSIS. while dean's fucking you deep and rough, he's obsessed with those little dermals on your lower back—just another excuse to touch you.

WARNING(S). smut | rough sex | dominant behavior | manhandling | back dermal piercings | possessiveness | strong language | he's a lil mean (obviously).

KARI TALKS. i'm missing him terribly rn !!! so i hope u enjoy whatever this is <3

DEMON!DEAN'S grip is bruising, fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you back onto him with every deep, punishing thrust. the motel room is dim, bathed in the dull red glow of a flickering neon sign outside, casting everything in shades of sin. it fits.

his hands roam, sliding over your sweat-slicked skin, tracing the curve of your spine until they find the tiny, glinting dermals embedded in your lower back. his pace falters for just a second, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he presses his thumb against one, feeling the cool metal against your fever-hot skin.

"fuck, sweetheart," he rasps, voice thick with something dark and dangerous. "always forget you've got these."

you whimper, barely holding yourself up on shaking arms, your body rocking with every thrust. he's relentless, setting a brutal pace that has you gasping, moaning his name like it's the only thing you know how to say.

DEMON!DEAN chuckles—low, smug—as he palms the small of your back, his fingers brushing over the piercings again. "bet you got 'em just to drive me crazy, huh?" his breath is hot against your ear as he leans over you, chest pressing flush against your back. "knew i wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you."

you can't even form words anymore, just broken moans and choked whimpers spilling from your lips. he fucking loves it. loves the way you're trembling beneath him, completely at his mercy.

he grips your hip with one hand, the other spreading across your stomach, pulling you back harder. "c'mon, baby, let me hear it," he coaxes, voice dripping with amusement. "tell me how good i’m fuckin' you."

you try—you really do—but all that comes out is a shattered moan, his name falling from your lips like a prayer to something unholy.

DEMON!DEAN just smirks, pressing a kiss to your jaw before sinking his teeth into your shoulder, claiming you the way only he can.

"that's what i thought."

꒰୨୧꒱ SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @bluemerakis @unfortunate-brat @beausling @aileenunfiltered @honeyryewhiskey @figthoughts @lacydollette @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @ultravioletrayz @soldiersgirl @deanssun @abox-of-rocks @whisperingdaze @eepwtf @rafespreciosa @deanswidow @deansbite @voidsuites