#i just want to write soft dean | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wvyik · 1 month ago

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dean’s shy gf headcanons. d.w. ᝰ.ᐟ

dean winchester x fem! reader

ᰔ summary: general dating headcanons for my shy, sensitive girls! conclusion? you’re his awkward little sweetheart; he sees you, he gets you, and he’ll spend every damn day proving how much he loves you.

⤿ warnings: fluffy, teasing, very mildly suggestive content, protective! dean, emotional moments, pre-established relationship, sweeter than sugar, major cuteness overload.

⤿ notes: had sm fun writing this! hope you enjoy these soft moments as much as I enjoyed writing them! let me know what you think, and feel free to request more if you want to see more! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

DEAN TALKS FOR YOU WHEN YOU’RE TOO SHY.. Ordering food? Asking for directions? You just quietly nudge him, and he immediately understands. But if he sees you trying to be brave, he won’t jump in— just stands next to you, hand resting on your back, whispering “You got this, baby.”

DEAN LOVES TEASING YOU.. like, he’s constantly making little comments just to see you get all flustered. He’ll lean in real close and murmur, “Whatcha’ blushin’ for, sweetheart?” with that damn smirk. And when you hide your face? Oh, he’s chuckling and pulling your hands away.

YOU STRUGGLE WITH EYE CONTACT, AND HE ALWAYS FINDS IT ADORABLE.. Sometimes he’ll tilt your chin up with two fingers and say, “C’mon, lemme see those pretty eyes,” all gentle but firm. Other times, he’ll playfully move his head into your line of sight when you try to look away.

HE’S RIDICULOUSLY PROTECTIVE.. because in his eyes; you’re just this soft little thing and the world is way too rough for you. If anyone so much as looks at you funny? Dean’s throwing an arm around you and giving them the scariest glare. “You got a problem?”

DEAN SECRETLY LOVES THAT YOU GET NERVOUS AROUND HIM.. He’ll catch you fumbling with your words and just grin, all cocky. “Damn, sweetheart, do I make you that nervous?” But the moment you get overwhelmed, he softens up and reassures you, “Hey, take your time, baby. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

EATS UP YOUR AWKWARD ATTEMPTS AT FLIRTING.. If you ever try to compliment him, you’ll probably stammer through it, and Dean just grins. “Aw, sweetheart, that was adorable. You tryin’ to flirt with me?” And if you get flustered and deny it? He just chuckles and tugs you close. “It’s workin’, baby. Big time.”

HE’S OBSESSED WITH YOUR LITTLE MANNERISMS.. Like the way you fidget with your sleeves, or how you get shy when you compliment him. If you stammer out a “You look really nice today,” he’ll lean in all smug and go, “Yeah? That so?” just to watch you get all flustered.

DEAN IS YOUR ULTIMATE COMFORT PERSON.. If you ever get anxious, he’ll pull you into a bear hug, rubbing slow circles on your back while murmuring, “Deep breaths, sweetheart. I gotcha.” If you’re too overwhelmed to talk, he’s totally okay with just holding you in silence.

HE ABSOLUTELY MELTS WHEN YOU INITIATE AFFECTION.. Since you’re shy, you don’t do it often�� but when you finally work up the courage to kiss his cheek or reach for his hand? He’s grinning like an idiot, heart skipping a beat. “Damn, sweetheart, you tryin’ to kill me?”

DEAN’S A PHYSICAL TOUCH MENACE, SO YOU JUST HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT.. He’ll sling an arm around your shoulders, pull you onto his lap outta nowhere, or nuzzle his face into your neck because he can. If you squeak or squirm? That’s just a bonus for him.

HE’S PATIENT WITH YOUR AWKWARDNESS.. If you’re struggling to put feelings into words, he won’t rush you. If you get too nervous in social situations, he’ll subtly shield you from attention. He gets that you need time, and he’s more than willing to give it to you.

JEALOUS, BUT NOT IN AN AGGRESSIVE WAY.. If some guy gets too close, Dean just slides in between you two and goes, “Hey, buddy, she’s with me.” But if you’re just naturally awkward around guys, he’ll tease you later, “Damn, sweetheart, you’re nervous around everyone but me, huh? Guess I really am special.”

CONSTANTLY REASSURING YOU THAT YOU’RE PERFECT JUST THE WAY YOU ARE.. Whenever you second-guess yourself, whether it’s about your awkwardness, how you look, or anything else— he’s there, reminding you how amazing you are. “You’re perfect, sweetheart. Don’t ever think otherwise. I love you exactly how you are.”

SOFT FOR YOU IN WAYS NO ONE ELSE GETS TO SEE.. To everyone else, he’s all bravado and sarcasm. But for you? He’s tucking you in, brushing your hair behind your ear, whispering, “You okay, baby?” when he sees you retreat into yourself. He’s your safe space, and he loves being that for you.

GOD HELP YOU WHEN HE FLIRTS.. He thrives on making you blush. He’ll say something suggestive just to watch your brain short-circuit, then kiss your forehead and go, “Relax, sweetheart, just messin’ with ya.” (He’s not. He loves seeing you flustered.)

HE LEARNS HOW TO READ YOU LIKE A BOOK.. You don’t always say when you’re uncomfortable, but he knows. The second he sees you shifting awkwardly, playing with your sleeves, or avoiding eye contact? He’s immediately stepping in, guiding you out of the situation, pulling you close, or giving you a reassuring squeeze. “S’just us, sweetheart. You’re okay.”

HE ADORES HOW POLITE YOU ARE.. Like, you always say “thank you” when he does literally anything— opens a door, passes you something, even when he kills a monster like, “Thank you for saving me, De..” And he just snickers, ruffling your hair, “Sweetheart, it’s kinda my job, y’know?” But he secretly melts every time.

HE GIVES YOU SMALL BUT SWEET SURPRISES.. Dean isn’t big on grand gestures, but he’ll randomly pick up flowers for you after a hunt or get you something cute that reminded him of you. “Just thought you’d like it, sweetheart.”

HAND-HOLDING IS KEY.. At first, you’re too shy to reach for his hand, so he starts sneaking little touches, his pinky brushing against yours, his fingers ghosting over the back of your hand. And when you finally take his hand one day? Oh, this man smirks and squeezes tight. “Took ya long enough, sweetheart.”

CUDDLES ARE MANDATORY.. If you’re shy about initiating them, that’s fine; because Dean has zero hesitation. If you’re sitting next to him? He’s pulling you into his lap. If you’re lying down? He’s throwing an arm around you. And if you get all stiff and awkward, he just chuckles, “Relax, sweetheart. I ain’t lettin’ go.”

ABSOLUTELY LOSES IT WHEN YOU GET JEALOUS.. You wouldn’t dare say anything outright, but Dean notices. The way you suddenly go quiet, the little pout on your lips. Oh, he’s loving every second. He’ll lean down and whisper, “Aww, sweetheart, you jealous?” with the biggest grin. And when you deny it? He just laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “S’okay, baby, you got nothin’ to worry about. I’m all yours.”

LOVES WHEN YOU CLING TO HIM.. Like, if you grab onto his jacket or press up against his side in public? He’s thrilled. This man walks around like your personal bodyguard, keeping a hand on your waist, making sure everyone sees that you’re his.

WHEN YOU’RE SHY ABOUT BEING PHYSICAL, HE’S PATIENT.. At first, you’re not totally comfortable with PDA, so he makes sure to read the room. But once you start leaning into him, Dean gets SO excited. He’ll kiss your forehead and be like, “I’m the luckiest guy alive.”

HE MAKES YOU FEEL SAFE LIKE NO ONE ELSE EVER HAS.. The world is loud and overwhelming sometimes, but with Dean? It’s different. You know that as long as he’s around, you’re okay. And he makes sure you never forget that. “Ain’t nobody touchin’ you while I’m here, sweetheart.”

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#༊*·˚ wvyik #sofia writes ✎#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester one shot #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #jensen ackles x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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bejeweledinterludes · 11 days ago

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givin’ it all.

OR touch starved ! dean, part 2. you ask, i answer <3

my masterlist

read part 1 here!

「 pairing 」 : touch starved ! dean x fem ! reader

「 word count 」 : 5.9k

「 content / warnings 」 : late seasons sad n soft!dean, vulnerability to da max (again), emotions, emotions, EMOTIONS, past trauma, confessions?

you have one ( 1 ) new message from the author ! ↓

surprise! here is a lovely part 2 for the people that asked and in honor of my bday month starting! BUTTTT most importantly, this is a thank you for 600+ followers !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i hope all of you know that i appreciate every single one of you that enjoys and interacts with my writing! it means the world, truly. once again, thank you all so much for the continued and ongoing support + love! i hope you all enjoy this one! and special thanks to @emeraldcrs + @maddie0101 (even though i ended up not doing what i said i was going to LMFAO <3)

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dean’s touch problem was getting out of hand.

ever since that night in your bedroom, he’s wished he could be there again, laying next to you every night— he’d even actually got the courage to get out of his bed one night when he couldn’t sleep to go to your room, but he never knocked on your door.

he did, however, sit down next to it in the hallway until he got tired enough that he had to fight to keep his eyes open, then went back to his own room.

you hadn’t even treated him any differently, either. you had still smiled at him when he walked into the kitchen that morning when you were already sitting with sam, like you always did— and you hadn’t said a word about the night before, when you held him like he’d always wanted to be held.

and god, did he want more.

dean wanted everything, actually. anything you had to offer. he’d take a squeeze on his shoulder, a ruffle of his hair— but hell, you did that pretty regularly already. and who was he to just ask for more?

dean winchester did not ask for things. he wasn’t allowed. he’s done just fine up until now without the touch of another human being, so why couldn’t the ache in his chest go away after your fingers left his skin? after that night?

it felt pathetic, wanting to need it. and to make matters worse, dean wanted all of you. it was selfish. you didn’t deserve someone like him, he knew it. but then again, you never flirted with anyone at the bars, ever. even when you all first started hunting together. and when he’d asked you about it (not so casually), you shrugged and told him the truth, because you always did— that as crazy and stupid as it sounded, you’d wanted something, someone real.

and dean?

he wanted to be the one to give that to you.

that’s when he knew he was in trouble.

because of too many things, really— what if you died, again? what if he died, again? and what happens when you ultimately rejected him, because if dean winchester was anything, it was unloveable.

but charlie said she loved him. sam told him once in a while, too— and you’d said it the first time you ‘died’, then came back. he never brought that up. neither did you. but he just wanted to hear you say it again.

so he could say it back this time.

dean hated the way he felt when the people he loved actually showed him that they maybe cared about him, too— like the way a person feels when an entire room is singing ‘happy birthday’ to them and they don’t know what to do with themselves.

and yet, time and time again, dean found himself desperate for it. and he didn’t even know what ‘it’ was half the time.

but being around you when he felt like that helped. a lot.

dean didn’t know what it was, or when it even started, but he always gravitated towards you. always had to be around you, be near you. and you never once pointed it out. you just let him into your space, your bubble, even your hobbies— and sometimes, doing literally nothing at all.

it was one of the reasons dean loved you. yeah, yeah, he said it, whatever. leave him alone. it seemed like any time you were near, he was more relaxed. not fully, of course— but his shoulders felt less tight and his jaw wasn’t sore from clenching it so hard.

he breathed easier. without realizing it, you helped dean take his mind off things (but of course you damn well knew that. why else would you have invited him to go to the post office with you?).

and he craved it.

if dean got captured by a jinn right now, you’d be there. you’re all he’s wanted. you, maybe a house— screw anything else, honestly. if you were there, so was he. but he’d definitely prefer you sitting on the hood of baby— yeah, his two girls. that was a little strange analogy though, because he’s thought about fucking you right on top of baby. or inside, on the seats. maybe even under—?

this djinn-fantasy thing was starting to sound a lot like just a sex dream.

wouldn’t be the first time dean had one about you, though.

besides. you were all he dreamed about, anyway.

but this night, he was wishing he had a dream like that. no. tonight, he was having yet another goddamn nightmare.

the barely-lit light on dean’s desk (he says he ‘accidentally’ leaves it on once in a while, but he really uses it as a makeshift night light. don’t tell anyone i told you that) cast soft dim glow on the concrete walls of his bedroom. the room was quiet, except for the occasional hum of machinery coming from somewhere in the bunker.

yet dean's mind? anything but peaceful. images, smells, sounds, and memories were piercing his mind— hell, purgatory, failed hunts, you name it. and the faces of people he’d lost, people he’d tortured were clear as day— the pain, the hurt, it was all there, as usual; but ten times worse tonight, it seemed. screams, snarls, gunshots, and his father’s voice echoed off of the traumas he was reliving.

he doesn’t know when his eyes had snapped open. but now dean was sitting up pin-straight in his bed, his breathing more like choppy gasps as he held and pointed his gun at— nothing. and his throat hurt, why did his throat hurt—?

oh.

it wasn’t just screams of other people.

it was his own this time. dean had screamed out loud.

a few rooms away, you were also jolted awake by dean's scream. it was so loud that it had even carried through the thick concrete walls of the bunker that were separating you both. you shot up from your bed, years of instincts kicking in and legs moving before your sleepy mind could catch up— or think twice.

because the only thing that was going through your freshly-awoken mind?

the absolute worst.

you made it to dean’s door in record time, swinging it wide open with your own gun at the ready to fight something— but the sight you were met with was not the one you had been expecting.

at all.

dean was still sitting up straight, but now barely-relaxed, rapidly blinking his eyes with his trembling hand still holding his gun, adjusting to the still-dim but brighter light flooding his room, to feeling damp in his clothes instead of all bloody and broken, to the echoes of screams being replaced with the white noise of the bunker–

and to… you.

yeah, you. standing in his doorway, hand on the edge of his door (you’d caught it as it bounced back from you essentially tearing it open), your own gun now at your side instead of drawn. your hair was all messy, clothes a little bunched up in places, breathing a little unevenly, yet not as much as him— but you still looked breathtaking, nightmare aside.

dean didn’t know what the hell kind of water you were drinking to make you look like that. even being freshy pulled from sleep like him, you looked beautiful. pretty, gorgeous, stunning? dean couldn’t find a word, and he doesn’t think he ever will.

and him.

oh, him.

dean always looked good— to the point where it bordered on you wanting to rip your hair out, most days. and despite what de’d just gone through, he still looked good. kidding aside, you craved the times you were able to see him like this more than you cared to admit to yourself.

not because he was in pain, or suffering the traumas of his less-than-peaceful life— but because it reminded you that even dean, for as everything that he was: a hero, larger than life, better than any hunter, still had moments like… this. when the memories became real life again. when the thoughts and his past actions echoed in his mind like taunts.

when you saw him like this: sweat all over, hair sticking up, eyes like they didn’t know what was real, you saw a piece of dean that few— or none at all had seen. most times, it felt like you were intruding on something private, sacred. and every realistically-thinking cell in your body screamed that you shouldn’t be here, seeing this. seeing dean.

but that little voice in your head just wouldn’t listen.

it never did. not when it told you that maybe dean didn’t touch you like he did everyone else— because hell.

he never touched anyone else. only you.

he’d do it all the time, so frequently and without a word that you weren’t sure he was aware he was actually doing it. dean sat so close to you what seemed like 24/7, like a magnet. in a booth, at a bar, wherever. you’d gotten so used to it, it had been unusual not to have the solid warmth of dean next to you when you’d gone off on your own to interview witnesses on a case.

and you would catch him playing with your hair on more than one occasion. and while dean got all embarrassed, you just smiled a little, then went back to reading the old-ass book you’d been poured over (but not without first nonchalantly adjusting yourself so he got more access to your hair).

dean would never forget it.

because that’s who you were, essentially. taking all the pieces of him in tow with you. all the dirty, messed up, strewn-about shards of him, scattered like a discarded shattered vase on the floor— and just accepting it.

and you never tried to ‘fix’ him, but in some way, you still somehow were. without really ever talking about it, or maybe even knowing. but when those times that only occurred on a rare occasion that dean would talk, the words spilling out and overflowing— but you never judged him. only listened. spoke when it was needed from you.

it meant everything.

and more.

dean would hug you almost every five minutes when he was too drunk to stand straight, you had learned one night early on in your friendship. when his ‘hey, maybe we shouldn’t do that’ voice in his head was silenced, he was kinda (a lot) all over you. because yes, he was much touchier when he was drunk, especially around you.

even now, after years since it happened, you still remembered the way his broad, loose frame had crumpled against you— and you caught him.

just like now.

you’d snapped over whatever the hell just came over you— and you weren’t sure how long you’d been standing there, but you hoped it wasn’t as long as you thought it to be, then slowly shut dean’s door behind you with a click, enveloping you both in the dim light this time.

because no way in any world were you about to leave dean alone after seeing him like this.

you pad across his room like you’d done a million times before— but never in this way. this late in the night? sure, but not like now.

you weren’t really thinking. because let’s be honest here: for every critical and rational thought you had, dean seemed to just… make them all disappear from your mind.

not in the survival sense, but in the ‘really, what’s stopping me from just kissing him’ viewpoint. so much so that you had to literally force yourself to not do anything. to not cross that line. you weren’t sure if he even knew that he was aware he was doing it to you, yet it still happened. a lot.

but back to now. back to dean’s room, to the light being returned to normal, and dean’s wondering why the hell is it so cold? he was still just a complete mess, his frayed and raw nerves only being held together by skin, blood and bones. he shut his eyes and kept them like that, trying to banish the memories from his mind, to just snap the hell out of it. he could hear this ringing in his ears, and it was so loud, he just wanted it to stop—

and suddenly, it did.

dean didn’t even realize you’d started holding him until the scent of you finally flooded his senses. until he felt how warm you were. until he felt your hair on the side of his face. until he felt and heard your breathing.

during the aftermath, you’d somehow managed to gently pry dean’s gun out of his hand, setting yours and his on his desk before you’d gotten on his bed and sat with him, hugged him.

when his eyes finally opened, just for a split-second— the only sight he was met with wasn’t the pit, or purgatory, just the guns. the metal had glinted off of his desk light, his vision only slightly impaired by your hair.

your hair. why did it smell so good. and why was it so soft. the world may never know, dean thinks. well, he does know. you’d told him one night while putting something in your hair, and he had been walking past the doorway. he’d teased you about your ‘girly stuff’, but you didn’t even bat an eye.

that was another thing he’d noticed about you. you didn’t change yourself based on other’s opinions. you were secure in who you were, and didn’t need approval from anyone else to feel your best. it was one of the things dean wished he could do for real and not just as a front, as a defense.

you were confident, but you still asked him once in a while if you looked okay, more so in the most recent years.

and dean could never lie to you. he always said “‘course y’do”.

but that night, you’d shrugged, then just told him about whatever the hell you were putting on your head, explaining it in a way he’d understand if he’d been listening— but dean had been a little to focused on your lips moving and not enough on the words actually coming out of them.

dean found himself burying his face into your hair now, half into your neck and chest, his breath coming out uneven and in short pants against your skin. he allowed his eyes to flutter shut again as he just let himself sink into you, resting his head on your shoulder, arms finding your waist. he felt the adrenaline wearing off, but his heart was still pounding in his chest, and he felt his shoulders trembling. his mind was starting to adjust, but he felt like he’d just gotten off a treadmill after running on it too fast.

and dean felt so weak. even more so now than he ever had. a shell of himself, a whole grown-ass man crumpled into you like he was a little kid again, scared of the dark.

if his dad could see him now.

if sam saw him right now. oh, sam would finally see that his brother wasn’t the tower of light, safety he’d always viewed him as. he’d treat him differently, for sure. dean was no longer the protector, the one who watched over everyone and everything. too much had happened to sam, to the people he loved for that to be even a fraction of true anymore.

what was true, though?

dean was a failure.

in every sense of the word. he’d failed innocent people, family, friends— everyone more times than he could count.

but his mind remembered.

and it reminded him every night.

dean used to have the sense that he was at least doing something right, but as of late, everything he’d done so far was nothing short of one disappointment after the other. it was pitiful, really— he was a freakin’ hunter, for god’s sakes. you’d think he’d get a goddamn win once in a while. but not for a long time, it seemed.

and this was just yet another failure, another thing he absolutely sucked at. dean couldn’t even get back to normal after a nightmare without someone being there to hold him. it was pathetic, humiliating— but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of you.

somehow, that was his breaking point. the last straw.

dean finally just… broke.

you didn’t even realize what was happening until you heard the smallest strangled, trapped noise came out from the man you were essentially holding together, muffled against you— but you still heard it.

all it took for dean winchester to cry these days?

a hug, apparently.

the tears had been welling up in dean’s eyes faster than he could will them away— and he just couldn’t do it anymore. couldn’t put up the front he’d always been able to. he tried, god he tried so hard, but he was still shaking, for christ’s sakes— and he’d just woken up.

the more dean thought about it, the more your arms seemed like a good place to finally let it all out. you’d always treated him with kindness he didn’t deserve, so he just prayed that you wouldn’t push him away. that you would just let him have this. he doesn't think he could handle you rejecting him in this way right now.

and when you hear a slight sniff against you, you almost couldn’t believe it. dean didn’t cry. he got angry, upset, went non-verbal– but the one thing you hadn’t seen him do (at least in front of you) in all the years you’d known him, is cry.

but you weren’t leaving.

no, you just held him tighter, adjusting your grip and the way you were sitting so dean was more comfortable. you didn’t lay down, but you pulled him closer to you, running a hand up and down his back.

it’s not like you could say anything. what the hell could you say?

well.

one thing did come to mind.

so with your hand still gently rubbing dean’s back, you moved your head just a fraction so it could rest on his, whispering close to his ear.

“i got you.”

and that was it.

dean’s eyes screwed further shut, lip wobbling as he gripped way harder onto you, like you were the only lifeboat left in a choppy sea. like you were going to keep him here, like he’d suddenly fall apart, die if he let go.

and he let go—

figuratively.

you’d never heard a sob come out of dean before, but that night, you decided you never wanted to hear it after this. because it was physically hurting you to hear dean right now.

but you didn’t dare let him go. you held dean in your arms, still running a hand on his back, and he cried into your chest like he was four years old again, his entire body trembling against yours with the force of how much his sobs were wracking through his form.

this wasn’t just about dean’s nightmare. this was everything. the decades of holding things in, pushing them down, then moving on without ever unpacking it— it was all bursting through the floodgates, roaring in his ears, his senses.

broken sounds left his throat, almost choking on them. they were coming straight from the place dean dared not to ever touch in his heart. but he didn’t care how loud he was anymore, or how embarrassing this must be, how humiliating—

because you said that you had him.

and you wanted nothing more than to take every ounce, every inch of pain, heartbreak, suffering, and loss that made up the man you loved away from him so he didn’t have to deal with it.

dean didn’t deserve any of it. he deserved to be normal.

to have a life.

and damn you wanted to give that to him, so badly.

but for now, you’d just hold him. give him a place to rest. to let everything go.

to be the solace he needed, he deserved.

neither you or dean knew how long he’d stayed like that, but you both didn’t say a word the entire time you held him— the only sounds that filled his room were his less-than-quiet sobs (god he hoped sam hadn’t made it home from elieen’s yet) and the faint rustle of his sheets.

but at some point, with a final sniff, dean lifted his head from your shoulder, but didn’t meet your eyes. couldn’t.

he was so ashamed of himself, his actions. it didn’t matter that you guys had been friends however long, this was not supposed to be the side of him you saw. he’d seen you comfort dozens, maybe even hundreds of crying people on cases— because of lost loved ones, or because they had seen something too scary.

dean just never thought he’d be one of them.

you didn’t say anything at first. dean, eyes and face still wet with tears, was looking down between you both, eyes fixed on your pyjama pants’ pattern. he was avoiding the obvious, the pill he had to swallow. he’d just cried like a baby into you.

he could see the wetness on your shirt from the corner of his eye, but he dared not look up all the way. god, this was humiliating. you’d probably move out of the bunker after this.

because no way does dean come back from a stunt like he just pulled. staying in your bed is one thing, but the fact that he just broke down in front of you? you’d never see him the same, never look at him the same– and even if there was any chance of it before, no way in hell were you ever going to look at him in the way he wanted you to look at him.

he’d messed up big-time— again. the only thing he swore to never ruin, to never take away from himself, it all just unraveled because he was a goddamn crybaby. an idiot. why did he do that? just let himself? was he seriously that braindead that he couldn’t—

dean’s pulled out of the spiral of thoughts he’d conjured up for himself when he feels a hand under his jaw.

your hand.

dean’s breath was all out of whack, courtesy of crying— but his next inhale literally gets stuck somewhere when your free hand uses your fingers to wipe the tears off his face.

you hadn’t really registered the fact that you’d even started doing that until you see dean’s glassy and red-rimmed eyes meet yours in his barley-lit room. all you’d been thinking was that you wanted to see him. and when you saw all the wetness on his face, how ashamed he looked, you didn’t think.

case in point: you never did.

not when it came to dean.

and dean just melts all over again. you could’ve teased him, poked fun, even just got up and left— but instead, your arms are still halfway around him. you’re leaning over by his nightstand, grabbing a tissue for the snot and larger tear tracks.

he should feel embarrassed. at least a little gross.

but he didn’t.

he just felt you.

dean let his eyes flutter shut, because this had to be a dream now. he wasn’t expecting this from you, but damn if he didn’t need it. every gentle brush of your fingers on his face felt like pure gold. like you were putting him back together.

dean’s still trembling under your gaze, under your touch. but seeing him react the way he did stirs at that feeling inside your tummy that always seemed to spike when dean was around. you toss that urge away, along with the tissue you’d used on his face.

but you don’t take your hand away.

your hand was so warm, so soft was all dean could think, feel. you weren’t taking your hand away, so dean just melted like a pad of butter in a pan into your fingers that were cupping the side of his face, his eyes still shut. he could feel the slight burn of them from crying, along with the pressure in his face so high— but your thumb absentmindedly brushing on his cheek was starting to make him feel like he was floating instead.

and because he’s greedy, because he’s weak, dean’s own hand releases its hold from your shirt and finds your wrist, keeping your hand on his face. the one that used to be under his jaw had dropped when you knew that he wasn’t going to look down again.

no one’s shown dean care like this. your presence was like a blanket, like the warm, soft light of a candle. he couldn’t get enough. he never wanted it to end.

dean doesn’t know how long he stays like that— could’ve been seconds or hours. but he finally breaks the silence with a quiet, raspy “thank you”. he doesn’t open his eyes yet.

because he’s afraid that you’ll be gone when he opens them.

but you weren’t.

no, in fact? you did something much stupider.

you leaned forward and kissed dean on the cheek that your hand wasn’t currently holding.

dean’s eyes snap open in surprise at the contact if your soft lips on his skin, his trembling breaths getting stuck in his throat again— because holy hell. whatever he’d been guessing you’d do, it wasn’t even close to that.

like everyone knows now: you weren’t thinking.you just wanted him to feel better. you just didn’t know how to do that for him.

dean’s red-rimmed eyes were still wide as you leaned back, your hand on his face faltering when you see his expression, because that didn’t seem like he enjoyed it— but he didn’t drop his hand from your wrist. he wasn’t going to let you let go. you’d only kissed him on the cheek one other time, and that was when he was dying for the third, maybe fourth time? it was too long ago for him to remember, but honestly, he had been happy just dying like that, too. you’d kissed him, and that was what he needed. he didn’t want anything else from this world.

and you just did it again.

the only thing he said?

“do that again.”

now it was your turn for your breathing to stop working.

but you didn’t hesitate.

you leaned forwards once more and pressed your lips on dean’s cheek again, lingering for a second too long before you reluctantly pulled away. because you wanted more. you wanted everything, honestly. but you’d never ask that of him.

you don’t know how you’ve lasted this long, pretending not to want one of your closest friends for as long as you can remember. you can recall a time when you didn’t feel like this— back when dean winchester was just some hunter with his brother. you helped them out once in a while, since they were your age and seemed nice enough, but somewhere along the way, after an apocalypse or two, sam and dean were always kind of just… there. it was like you were on parallel paths, going in the same direction— and both had intersected at some point.

now here you were.

it was times like these you wished that dean would just pick a side. he never truly hit on you, only for a case once in a while— and he couldn’t even look at you after he did that. he never made a move, and honestly, you were fine with that, for a really long time. you’d deemed dean much too out of your league anyway, since he didn’t really flirt with you like he did every other woman that came across his path— and that was odd to you, because dean flirted with everyone.

just not… you.

and while it stung, you just pushed through it. i mean, it’s not like you haven’t been let down before— but you couldn’t place why your heart felt like it was being shredded up in your chest when you’d met lisa for the first time.

but you knew.

deep down, you knew exactly why.

you knew why your gut twisted whenever he chatted up a waitress, or a witness. you knew why your friends gave up on talking to you about him, because you were a lost cause.

because you were so stupidly in love with dean, it was almost humiliating.

every single person, even some monsters you were literally hunting had called you out on it.

and you didn’t know what the hell to do.

there were too many variables, too many outliers, and certainly not enough confidence to even consider the fact of telling him. of manning up and just taking what you wanted. because what would you even say? do? what happens after he rejects you? and what if—

your thoughts are interrupted by a warm hand on your face.

dean’s hand.

your hand was still on his cheek, one of his own still holding your wrist— but the other was now brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

and then it just… stayed there. on the side of your face.

just like you were doing to him.

you’re gonna die, you think.

once again, you found yourself wanting dean to just do something. he’d been blurring the invisible line you’d drawn for yourself, the one you swore to never cross—

unless dean wanted you to.

it was getting much harder to tell if he wanted you to or not, especially in the most recent months.

and it was killing you. slowly but surely.

“what’re you thinkin’ about?”

the words leave your mouth before you even have time to think, because dean’s hand is so warm, so big against your face and it’s really hard to focus when his own thumb is brushing on your cheek—

“you.”

the answer leaves dean’s mouth without hesitation, without another thought. it wasn’t a lie— because you were all he thought about.

dean didn’t deserve this. you. any of this. and yet, he couldn’t refuse it right now. not when you were so close to him, and your skin was so soft—

“are you—” the words get caught in dean’s throat. “are y’thinkin’ about me?”

oh, why did dean just say that. why on chuck’s green earth did he ever say that. how did he even sound more pathetic than he’d just been when he was crying in your arms? and his voice was so small, so unlike him— plus it was still raspy from his stunt he’d pulled earlier. he was an idiot. a fool. he sounded like an insecure freakin’ teenager. it was pathetic. he was pathetic—

“yeah.”

dean’s eyes flicked back up to yours— and that was a mistake, because your hand was still mirroring his own on his face, and you were looking at him like you meant what you’d just said. like he meant something.

“yeah?” the breath left dean’s mouth before he could stop it, and he hated how hopeful he sounded. he’d moved a fraction closer to you, but it felt like he just traveled a mile.

“yeah,” you nodded, a little dazed, voice barely above a whisper. because dean was so close to you now, you could feel his breath on your face. you could barely think straight, because all you wanted to do was just lean in a little further— “i don’t really, uh… stop. thinkin’ about you.”

and dean’s gonna die.

he is going to die, because you said that and you were looking down at his lips and you smelled so good and your hand was still on his face—

dean was a simple man. that’s all he’ll ever be. he’d never ask you to do something you didn’t want.

but god, he wanted you.

so the words fell out of his mouth in another exhale—

“me, either.”

oh.

the way you were looking at him right now? after he said that in response?

you wanted him, too.

you’re both not sure who moved first, but your lips were on dean’s after you leaned in and he used his hand on your face to tug you to him, closing the remaining space between you both on his bed.

the first thing you noticed?

dean tasted like home.

you didn’t kiss him too fast. neither he with you. because you wanted to map out every inch you could, and because you were half-sure that this was some fantasy your mind had cooked up out of a state of delusion. your hand on dean’s face snaked deeper back, burying into his hair, and he groaned into your mouth at the action.

that did something to you. the same thing happened when dean’s hand went into your hair, too— you made this little noise on his lips.

that did something to him.

kissing dean was actually gentle at first. not hesitant, but like you already knew how. but then after you’d both made those noises, it’s like a switch flipped. suddenly, there was way too much space in between you both— and you gripped onto the front of his shirt, tugging him towards you as you let your back hit his sheets, taking him down with you.

this wasn’t like anything you’d ever felt. no, this was going on a decade of wishing, wanting, hoping for something, anything to come of you and dean besides friendship.

and dean? dean pressed right into you, one of his hands and barely bothered to keep himself upright. he needed to touch you, feel you. another groan escapes you and him involuntarily at the friction between you both— because you’d spread your thighs, his torso fitting right between you.

and it felt good.

you couldn’t take a full breath anymore, but you didn’t dare take your lips off of dean’s. you just tugged him closer, hand still in his hair, the other on the back of one of his shoulders.

both your lips broke with a pop, you and dean taking in the same breath of air, his nose brushing against yours and eyes fluttering, because wow.

dean didn’t know he’d said that aloud until a smile tugged on your lips, eyes looking up at him like he still wasn’t real. like this wasn’t real.

“you know how long i’ve been waitin’ to do that?” dean breathes against your lips, eyes threatening to shut again.

your smile gets wider as your own eyelashes flutter at the closeness, relishing in the contact of feeling dean on top of you before you respond:

“you know how long i’ve been waiting for you to do that?”

──────────────────────── 𖤐

tags: @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @bruisedfig @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlesoulshine @starzify @velvetparkerx @eggggggggggggggggggggsblog @fuckedupfate @liiiilsss @angelblqde @vmiina @mahi-wayy @viarasvogue @tinas111 @0ccvltism @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @lunaleah @saintfaux @kimxwinchester @bettystonewell @honeyyxxbee @harlekin705 + if i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3

#faith’s works . . . @bejeweledinterludes!#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #touch starved #part 2

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cherrynpink · 14 days ago

Text

freak like me

pairing: nerdy!dino x f!reader

genre: project partners, mutual pining, lots of daydreaming, smut (with a bit of plot) MDNI!

warnings: shy cutesy dino who has my heart (he is a secret freak!), idk how american uni works so just go w it pls, dino and chan are both used interchangeably, oc has nerd kink (ahem), forward oc, cursing, a bit of manipulation?, too many thirsty thoughts, kissing, choking, spit kink, unprotected sex (do not do this!), oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, clit stimulation, brat!oc, brattamer!dino, mean dino, he calls oc slut/whore, dirty talk!!!, riding, missionary position, creampie, size kink?, crying, hair grabbing, ass slapping, orgasm denial, cum eating, it is honestly filthy, lmk if i missed anything!

w.c.: 5.4k

playlist: freak like me

note: thank you so much for liking the last fic so much :( didn't expect such a positive reception so i was super motivated to write this one! plus these pictures of him did something to me like y'all don't get it like i do bcs i went crazy and HAD to write.

also u can message me here or comment if u want to be part of my taglist! my requests are open if u have something u wanna read, or just talk. feedback is highly appreciated hope u like this one hehe :3

“Right, so the semester end project will be a group project.” Your professor says as the whole class sighs in disappointment and annoyance.

“I know you all don’t like these group projects, but it’s compulsory guys, it’s worth 30% of your final grade. If it’s any consolation, I requested the dean to let it be done in pairs, so be a little grateful, I don’t want anyone coming up to me after class asking to change partners.”

Great. The only thing you hated more than group projects were the ones done in pairs. In spite of all the arguments in groups, atleast you didn’t have to do any work if you didn’t feel like it. But now not only will there be conflicts with your partner, but you’ll have to do half the work too. Just great.

“Y/n? miss y/n?” your professor calls pulling you out of your zoned out state as you raise your hand in confusion.

“You’ll be partnered with Mr. Chan.”

Oh. This was going to be fun. Not only was Chan really REALLY good at studies, but also so cute. You first met him just on the second day of class, when you asked him for a pencil because being klutz you are, you had forgotten you had that class that day and had practically rolled off your bed as your roommate woke you up minutes before it started, reaching a bit late and resulting in your professor scolding you. Chan had coyly given you the pencil, later passing you a note in the middle of the class written “you can ask me later if you have any doubts about what was taught before you arrived as you were a bit late :)”. Oh, he was so cute.

That was how your friendship started, though you never talked much outside of class- other than the occasional times he replied to your story or liked it, you and him were mostly formal with each other, never crossing the boundary of “classmates.”

Sometimes you would ask him for his notes, and being the nice guy he is, he would send the snapshots in a second. You would later leave an iced americano on his usual seat, as a gesture of thankfulness; and a note along with it. Sometimes when the professor’s voice cracked in the middle of the lecture, your eyes would find his- giving each other a slight smile.

It was always quick glances, polite words, and soft smiles, because you both never seemed to take it further. But you were tired now, tired of pretending you didn’t picture his face squished under your thighs, glasses all fogged up and your slick dripping down his chin. Tired of acting like you didn’t violate your poor pillow every other night imagining how he would sound with him in your throat.

Was he a head pusher? Or someone that just begged you to let him come? Would he let you tie him up? Or would he want to tie YOU up? you were sick of acting like he didn’t get you so so wet when he answered a question in class and fixed his glasses, and you had a plan to change that.

As the class ends, you see him coming up to you.

“Should we work at the library at 6 today? I’ll get us some coffee and snacks to eat while we work!” he says with a small smile on his face.

You could agree to the library at 6, after all he has pitched it so sweetly, but there is a devil on your shoulder that is actually so evil, because you hear a voice in your head saying no way you’re meeting him in a public place for the things you want to do with him.

“I’m a bit busy at 6 Chan, I-”

“Dino! You can call me dino too. All my friends usually call me that.” He says shyly.

You smile sweetly. “I’m a bit busy at 6 dino, I have my shift at the café.” You say pouting at him. They are blatant lies. You do not have your shift at the café today because it is closed, something about the owner being at a wedding, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You can come over to my place at 10 if it’s okay with you? I doubt the library will be open till the time I get off work.” You feel a bit bad, but you’re just inviting him over because it’s more comfortable at home, right? Yeah! Nothing needs to happen just because you’ll be alone with him. (You are lying to yourself at this point because there is no way you don’t lose your mind at the thought of being alone with him.)

“Oh, okay sure! text me the address, I’ll be there.” He says with a sweet smile and you might crush him because of how much you want to squish his cheeks right now.

Dino might go crazy. He’s not even sure if you could see he wasn’t paying attention to a thing you said, because he was too busy staring at your lips the entire time, and then your collarbones, until his eyes travelled to your tits trapped in your blouse which was just a little too tight. Tight enough to accentuate the curve of your breasts; but not letting them spill out- just tight enough.

On top of that, if he’s left alone with you, he has no idea how he’s going to prevent a tent from forming in his pants, so he opts for a oversized hoodie long enough to cover him and a pair of grey sweatpants because it is your house after all, he can dress casual, and he doesn’t want you to know he took 20 minutes to decide what he wore so that his outfit says-“hey, I’m casual and comfortable” and “I’m put together” at the same time.

He is sharp on time, you say to yourself as the bell rings. You’re a bit nervous approaching the door in your small plaid skirt and sweater, knowing how he always stares at you whenever you wear a skirt to class. Plus, you’re wearing a something a little special underneath it, just it case. You push the self-doubting thoughts to the back of your head as you open your door and he is a sight to see. He looks so delicious in those animal print framed glasses and messy hair, there is a glow on his face and oh, those stupid goddamn grey sweatpants. It is OVER for you.

“You’re very punctual, it’s exactly 10.” You giggle. “Your hair looks a bit of a mess dino, coming from another girl’s place?” you say as you smirk, leaning against the door.

“No! No, I just came from the gym, my hair is still a bit wet from the shower.” He says as he ruffles his hair and comes in, setting his bag on the table in your living room. Oh? Pretty boy goes to the gym as well, is there anything he doesn’t do. He usually only wore oversized hoodies and t-shirts to class, never really revealing his true figure; nor did you ever see him much in parties despite his friends being a part of the frat, so this was a new side of him you were seeing right now.

“My roommate is gonna be home in a bit, so we can work in my room, mhm?” you ask, acting intentionally doe eyed and innocent. Lies. They are all lies. Your roommate isn’t going to be home in a bit, she’s at her girlfriend’s dorm. And she is not going to be home until tomorrow after class. And maybe if Chan was thinking clearly, he would’ve asked why your roommate would mind you working in the living room with him. But he’s not thinking clearly, too busy staring at your legs and imagining his face between your thighs; so, forgive him if he isn’t at his highest functioning brain activity right now.

He murmurs a quiet okay as he follows you to your room as you lead him. And your room is so you. He doesn’t know how to explain it, because he doesn’t know you so well yet, but as soon as he enters through the door, he sees plushies laid out neatly on your bed, and your scent all around him. He can see posters of bands and movies dressing up your walls and random Sanrio figurines all around the room. He lays his bag on your bed, taking out his laptop as you sit next to him on your chair, and your skirt rides up, revealing your soft thighs further. And maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him, but he can almost see pink lace fabric peaking from underneath your skirt. And maybe you’re just a bit cold, but he swears he can see your nipples peeking through your sweater.

Every passing minute, he is making it so hard for you to keep your composure. He keeps sharing his ideas about the project and telling you what you should work on. Why is hearing him talk about physics so sexy? You don’t know what it is, but you can’t help but think how hot he looks when he talks so passionately. Your panties are literally getting soaked as the time goes on. It’s been an hour, and he hasn’t even taken a second to look at you yet! You’re quite literally whoring yourself out for him and all he cares about is inductive motor or whatever the hell the project is about.

“Channie, can we move to the bed? I’m feeling a bit tired from my shift.” You say, fake yawning.

“Mmm? Oh sure.” It is over for him, he thinks to himself.

As you sit up on your bed, your skirt FULLY rides up, revealing your baby pink lace panties. You push it down gently, saying “oops” as you giggle. And something inside him snaps. All control he had, he’s lost it now and he physically cannot hold back anymore. His gaze darkens, as he pushes you down, his grip on your throat as he gets on top of you. You gasp as he takes you by surprise, but the shock lasts barely 5 seconds before you smirk.

You reach up as your lips find his, pulling him deeper into your mouth as you grab his hair. From the get go, it is passionate, and rough and messy, because both of you are left gasping for your breath- your cheeks rosy and your chest heaving. Deciding to tease him further, you bite his lip. He moans into your mouth, mumbling “brat.” Taking the opportunity, you slip your tongue into his mouth deepening the kiss, and it is so sloppy; neither of you willing to give up control. The heat between your legs grows because of the way his tongue fights with yours to take over, which has your head spinning.

“Channie” you moan, as you feel the hard press of his body against yours, the sound of your lips smacking together and your heavy gasping filling the room.

His hand reaches to lift your sweater slightly, fingers making contact with your bare skin as they keep moving upwards until they meet your lacy bra, delicately toying with the material.

“You wore this for me baby? Knew this was going to happen?”

All you do is giggle as you continue to kiss down his jaw, alternating between sucking and biting. But that doesn’t sit right with him, as his other hand wraps around your neck, squeezing just the right amount so that his grip is tight enough, but still allowing you to breathe, and suddenly you’re flooding your panties.

“This okay?” he asks, his eyes filled with concern and genuine worry, looking for any discomfort in your eyes, desperate for your approval to continue.

You nod, because it’s actually all you can do. He loosens the grip on your throat and begins to pull his hand away as he says “Fuck, if you want me to go on, you’re gonna have to answer me baby.”

You’re quick to bring his hand back on your neck, your head turning left and right in panic, “No! No, please I want it!” you say as he smirks at your desperate state.

“Yeah? Then answer me when I ask you a question baby. You wore this set for me pretty?”

“Just wanted you to notice me, pay attention to me.” You say between kisses.

“And you thought whoring yourself out would be the way to get my attention” he chuckles. “Thought it was a mistake when you flashed me, turns out baby’s just an attention whore.”

He gets off of you and the bed and a whine leaves your throat as he pulls you down by your ankles as your hips reach the foot of your bed in an instant as he begins taking off his glasses.

“No!” you protest. “don’t- don’t take them off, I like them.” You say timidly. He picks you up, flipping your previous position as he seats you on his lap, taking off his hoodie, and you cannot help but stare. You did not know he was SO built and buff, your eyes are practically eating him up as you feel drool building up in your mouth. Oh, you NEED to suck him off right now. And that’s pretty much all it takes for you as you get on your knees for him.

When you look up to him, there is hunger in his eyes, something you’ve never seen before, his gaze full of lust. He can’t remember how many times he’s pictured you like this, on your knees, so innocent, a pathetic expression on your face, waiting for him to give you your next instruction.

Those stupid man whore grey sweatpants, you need them off now.

You fumble with it’s band as you impatiently pull it down, revealing his Calvin Klein boxers, and you clearly have no time for this nonsense, rushing to pull his boxers down as well, all while he looks down on you, leaning back on the bed- hands on either side of him with a big cocky smirk on his face, because he cannot wait to see the next look on your face.

Your face: it’s so transparent, so revealing. It’s literally like you wear your heart on your sleeve. Everything you feel, you think, you want, it’s clear- plain as day on your face. And as soon as you pull his boxers off, there it is- pure amusement and shock, as his dick twitches at the sight of your wide doe eyes. You knew he was big, atleast that’s what you pictured in your nightly scenarios. But you did not know he was this big both in length and in girth as well, his angry tip staring at you, begging for your attention.

“Take your sweater off.” He demands. No pleas, no hesitance. An order. And who would you be to defy him? you teasingly take it off, all while a small smile adorns your lips as you throw the sweater somewhere on the floor alongside his hoodie.

You take his length in your hand, rubbing your thumb over his tip- spreading his pre-cum around it as your eyes go from doe like to those of a siren as they stare straight into his, spitting right on it seductively and oh, he thinks he’s in love. You pump it up and down and fuck- you can’t even completely wrap your hand around it, giving it a little squeeze as you go along, building the tension. But he doesn’t seem too happy about it as he sighs in annoyance. He’s sick of your teasing, because even after his multiple attempts to discipline you, you’ve decided to continue being a brat.

In the blink of an eye, he takes your hand off of him, grabs you by your jaw and squeezes your cheeks between his thumb and fore finger- the rest of the them lying on your jaw, forcing to you part your lips slightly.

“Do you trust me y/n?” he says softly, yet his voice dripping with dominance as you nod.

“Open your mouth, tongue out baby.”

And what he does next takes you by surprise, as he leans down, collecting a glob of spit in his mouth as it drips down from his mouth to yours, making you moan as you close your eyes, feeling the warm liquid on your tongue.

“Swallow.” he says as he caresses your jaw. And his wish is your command; you let out a loud moan as you feel it travel down your throat.

“Good girl. You’ll listen to me now, yeah? No more teasing. I’ve been holding back until now but if you don’t behave, I’ll have to fuck you like the whore you are. Better yet, I’ll eat you out, and get you so so close. I’ll be at it for hours baby, I have no place to be, but I won’t let you cum. So, tell me, you’re gonna be a good girl for me now?”

And all you can do is nod as he smirks, because now, he holds the power over you, and you want him to take over you. Don’t want to think about anything, just do whatever he says. And he can see that, see you fully slipping into subspace.

He holds his dick in his hand, and as your mouth chases his tip, he slaps it against your cheek. All he does is laugh, because you just look so pathetic under him. Tits spilling out of your see through pink lace bra, eyes on the brink of tears, fists balled up in your lap because he won’t let you touch him.

He grabs your hair in a makeshift ponytail and slaps his dick against your other cheek as he says “tap my thigh twice in you wanna stop, okay?” and finally rubs his tip against your lips, parting them immediately as you engulf it in your mouth, sucking on it as if it’s a popsicle, swirling your tongue all around it, making him groan.

Slowly, he pushes his dick in inch by inch until it hits the back of your throat, and its laughable, because half of it still can’t be wrapped around your tiny mouth even though your jaw is doing gymnastics to accommodate half of him and he lets out a loud moan due to the insane pleasure it gives him. Since he won’t let you move yet, enjoying the feeling of cockwarming your mouth too much, you drag your tongue up and down, making him hiss.

Finally, he decides to fuck your throat, sliding your mouth up and down his dick as if your mouth is just a fleshlight for him to use, making your eyes roll back. He starts slow, as to ease you in; but is quick to fasten his pace to meet his needs. But you want to do more, so your hands reach up to play with his balls, and oh does it take him by surprise. All he can do while fucking your mouth is mumble sweet nothings, praising you, telling you how good you’re being letting him use you like this. And his words are working, because at this point your slick is running down your thighs and your cunt is in a desperate need of attention, as you grind it against the heel of your foot and when you look up to him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything more beautiful. His glasses lay low on his nose as his head is thrown back in pleasure and his hair is messy, sticking to his forehead due to the sweat; yet his hand is precise is controlling your mouth by your hair. His buff chest heaving desperate for air as his ears and cheek are a pretty shade of pink for you.

Suddenly he looks down to meet your eyes staring at him in lust, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything hotter as he sees you grind against your foot pathetically all whilst he fucks your warm mouth. He can feel the vibration of your mouth as you moan around him, and he thinks he’s in heaven. You look so dirty, spit dribbling down your chin, pupils dilated and red with desire, tears streaming down your cheeks because of how deep he’s hitting it right now. He is just so close, but no way he doesn’t cum in your pussy today, so he pulls you off his dick as you welp, a string of spit connecting your lips to his tip.

“I’ll come in your mouth some other day baby, need to be in you right now.” He says responding to your cute pout as he pulls you up to sit on his lap, your legs on either side of his thigh once again.

His hands travel to your back to undo your bra in an instant as it’s thrown somewhere on the bed behind him. Immediately his mouth is attached to your hardened nipple as you let out a loud moaning, feeling his warm tongue on your cold skin.

“I’m so fucking sick of you parading around in this stupid excuse of a skirt that barely covers your ass y/n.” He says as his hands travel down and under your skirt, making contact with your dripping lace, running his fingers up and down. He can feel your slick on his own thighs.

“Oh? You’re already soaked, baby. But I haven’t even touched you yet, wanna tell me what got you so wet?” he says as he mocks you, still not taking his attention off your breasts, sucking them and marking them up with hickeys all around and all you can do is moan as you dig your nails into his back overwhelmed by the pleasure.

“You’re so sensitive, so responsive. I love it baby, so easy for me. Need you to answer me- what’s got you dripping?” he says as he finds your clothed clit, pressing hard against it over the lace.

He’s being so mean right you. The remnants of tears on your cheeks have barely dried up before you can feel yourself getting teary eyed already.

“You! Want you so bad channie! Been wet for you since you walked in the door.” You cry out desperately.

Finally, he stops teasing your covered pussy and pulls it to the side, inserting two of fingers with no warning making you scream out loud. He’s quick to press his thumb to your clit, flicking it as he pumps his fingers into you, all whilst he’s sucking on your tits. His pace is monstrous from the start, and he shows no signs of stopping as he continues to drive them in you, opening you up preparing you to take his big dick. All you can do is drop your head on his shoulder helplessly, taking what he gives you.

“Ah! So good Chan, so- so- fuck! Right there! Need you!” you say as he repeatedly hits your g-spot all while rubbing your clit.

You’ve lost all track of time. You’ve been so close to cumming ever since you saw him walk through your front door that even the slightest touch could get you to your high, and here Chan was, touching you right where you needed, enlightening all your senses.

“I’m about- gonna- gonna cum dino! Please, let me, oh- please let me cum!” you cry out loud, begging him as he pulls out his fingers in an instant and just like that you’re crying again, dropping your head in the crook of his neck.

“What, don’t cry baby.” He says, voice dripping with fake sympathy, because inside him he knows your tears turn him on even more. His hand reaches the small of your back as he caresses it, attempting to calm you down. “Want you to cum on my cock princess. Think you can do that, yeah? You promised you’d be a good girl for me.”

“I was- I was just so close.” You say timidly between your sniffles.

“It’s okay princess, I’ll make you cum real good on my cock.” He whispers, kissing you tenderly for the first time in the evening, and it makes your heart full, reminding you that in spite of everything, this is the same dino that you see in class every day, polite and sweet and beautiful; but you’re brought back to the present as he pulls away from you, shattering your illusion.

“You wanted my attention so bad y/n, you started it. So, you’re gonna take what you wanted- gonna have to ride me.” He says with a shit eating grin that just makes you so mad right now, but eager to give him what he asks for you get off your lap and begin to take off your skirt.

“Did I ask you to take it off? Still not behaving baby. Keep the skirt on; after all you made such a show of wearing them, wanna fuck you in it. Take off your panties.”

Once the pink garment is off, you sit on his lap again, as he slaps his dick against your poor swollen cunt, running his tip against your entrance.

“You know what to do right? It isn’t your first rodeo after all.” He says as he smiles.

God, he is so cocky. If you didn’t desperately need him in you, you would not put up with it for a second. (you would probably put up with it anyway)

You take his dick in your hand as you hover over it, your pussy clenching over nothing, begging to be filled by him as you insert the tip in him; and that alone is such a stretch for you, your legs might give up then and there. But you are anything but determined. Stubborn. Firm on proving yourself. So, you accept the stretch, stabilising yourself by placing one hand on his wide shoulder while you bottom out completely, burying himself into you in one go making him throw his head back and groan in pleasure as his hands reach out to hold your waist, not letting you escape his grasp.

Slowly but surely, you begin by grinding your hips against them, building up the tension as you try to maintain a steady pace; but dino doesn’t look amused, so you begin to move up and down on him, burying your freshly done nails into his shoulders. His hand moves down as you bounce on him, giving your ass a quick slap before finding it going under your skirt and rubbing your clit, making you gasp out.

“Fuck, lift up your skirt baby.” He says, and you comply- lifting up your skirt with one hand, whilst he continues to toy with your clit and you bounce up and down his dick, showing him the mess you both are making; and he loves it.

You’re so eager to please him, prove yourself to him as you continue to alternate between grinding and moving up and down; but the pleasure is SO overwhelming with his hand on your nub and you don’t think you can last. On top of that, you’ve been working so hard to maintain a steady pace for him, that your thighs are about to give out. And he sees that- sees your movement becoming sloppy and messy, your thighs shaking and your grip tightening on his shoulder.

“Tired, baby?”

Why is he such a tease. And why is he being so mean to you when he knows you’re totally spent. You think you’re going to cry for the third time in the night.

“You know, all you have to do is admit it. And I’ll take over. You know you want me to. I can make you feel so good baby, hit all the right spots and you don’t have to lift a finger.” He whispers in your ear before slapping your ass again as he lifts his hips to meet yours in a sharp thrust, showing you how much better he can make you feel.

“I- I- tired. I’m tired channie! Thighs hurt. P- please!” you say between hiccups as he keeps thrusting into you from beneath.

That’s all he needs to hear, before he’s flipping you on your back without taking himself out of you, pressing a kiss to your lips as he begins to actually fuck you. His hands roam all over you as if he’s trying to memorise every curve and dip. He’s thrusting into you with such a force your tits bounce back and forth with every drive of his hips into you while he mumbles pretty words in your ears.

“Pussy so good baby, absolutely squeezing me. Can’t believe you were letting those stupid guys have this while I was right there. Could’ve made you feel this good all this time. Fuck! Always wanted to bend you over the desk whenever you wore those stupid skirts to class. You know, everyone could see you baby. See how much needy you were. You’re probably just too much a slut to care, no?”

His mouth reaches down to bite your nipple, where you’re already so sensitive that you can’t help but cry out. You look so dumb for his cock right now, your nails are absolutely obliterating his back as your legs wrap around him not letting him go, a chant of his name leaving your lips with each of his movement. All you can hear is the sound of his balls slapping against you and your screams. You’re pretty sure you’ll get complaints from your neighbour tomorrow but who cares; he’s just too good. His thrusts get deeper yet sloppier as you feel him reach between your sweaty bodies and rub your clit in an attempt to get you closer.

“Fuck! Gonna cum baby. Are you close?”

“Yes! Channie fuck, love- love your dick so much! So big, need- I’m almost there!”

And that’s all the motivation he needs before he picks up his pace again, angling himself to hit you exactly at the spot that makes you scream, and before you know it, you feel tears streaming down your face again because of the overstimulation.

“Chan! Gonna cum! Please, please- fuck right there, please wanna cum!”

“Where do you want me princess?”

“In! In me, wanna feel you in me, fill me up! Please, need it in me!” you babble.

And that is all it takes for you to let go. Your eyes roll to the back of your head with a loud whine as your nails dig into him deeper, your back arching- the pleasure taking over you as you see stars in front of your eyes, screaming his name over and over again. It’s like you’re floating- because your body feels numb and completely spent. He feels you clenching so much around his cock as you cum, it’s like you’re milking him, before he’s filling you up full of him too, reaching his high, and he cannot stop. Even after you’re done, you’re still rhythmically squeezing him as he doesn’t stop coming in you. You feel him warm in you, and you honestly never want him to pull out, but unfortunately, he does- leaving you empty as his essence begins to spill out of you.

He gets between your legs, watching a mixture of your cum dripping out of you, admiring his work before he’s collecting it in his fingers, tracing your swollen sensitive centre as he comes up to you, and inserting his fingers in your mouth, while he kisses your tears. You can taste him and yourself on your tongue as you close your eyes, swirling your tongue around his fingers. The sight is so hot to him, his dick twitches against you once again before he’s pulling his fingers out and gently kissing you, as he leaves your bed to bring you a towel.

He lies besides you after he cleans you up as you turn you face each other.

“Sorry if I was too rough, got carried away a bit.” He says as you lay your head on his arm and run your hand through his hair.

“You were so good, I think I need to be a little bitchy again for you to put me in my place.” You say as you kiss him, smiling against his lips.

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bruisedfig · 6 months ago

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sleepy motel mornings with dean winchester .ᐟ

warnings: none! fluff, soft dean, silly reader, est. relationship (bf!dean x gf!reader)

*ೃ༄

you began to stir as you heard the soft rustling of the bedsheets behind you. a tired hum escaped your lips as you felt dean untangle his body from yours, a stark coldness replacing the warmth of his touch on your skin as he pulled away. your eyes fluttered open.

“hey, where’re you going so fast?” you pouted, your eyes still puffy from sleep as you rolled over, watching dean begin to hop out of the bed. you wrapped your hand around his arm and pulled him back down next to you.

dean laid his head back on the pillow with a slight grunt and turned to you, a warm smile spreading across his sleepy face, “gonna make you some coffee, baby.”

a smile grew on your lips at his deep gravelly morning voice and you blinked a few times, trying to adjust your eyes to the brightness of the motel room. after a moment of looking at his sweet sleepy face, you shook your head and pulled him closer, “later.”

dean sighed and leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent show of his love. he draped an arm over your side and you closed your eyes, soaking in his comforting and familiar scent; motel soap mixed with his cheap sandalwood and whiskey cologne. a strange combination, but one you've come to love and yearn for on nights when you're apart.

you smiled a little dopily under his touch as he pulled his face back to look at you. you found his eyes and flashed a playful, but pleading look at him, “stay with me. you’re warm.”

“oh, is that it?” he laughed softly, “you want me to stay just because i’m warm?”

you gently shook your head and looked at him with love and sincerity in your expression, “no, you’re warm and i love you.”

dean grinned, his green eyes lighting up at your words, “sap,” he teased and poked your side, “i love you too, baby.”

you couldn’t suppress the soft chuckle from escaping your lips. you sat up and lazily threw a leg over his waist, relaxing down on his lap. your hands found their way to his cheeks, cupping them gently as you held his head to meet your tender gaze.

dean’s hands sat on your thighs, rubbing the soft skin under your pyjama shorts. his eyes fluttered shut and he hummed as you leaned down and began leaving small kisses all over his face.

dean couldn’t help but laugh while you peppered soft little kisses on him; along his forehead, down his nose, over his cheeks and quick cheeky pecks on his lips. you held his face in your hands as your lips worked over his soft skin, each kiss a little mark of your love for the sleepy green-eyed hunter in front of you.

you hummed absent-mindedly, smiling to yourself as you kissed over his freckled cheeks. dean let out a quiet huff and you pulled away to look at him. his cheeks turned blush pink as you met his gaze and you could tell he was trying to keep his smile from growing any bigger.

“what was that for?” he asked, his gentle green eyes searching yours, his fingers mindlessly tapping on your thighs.

“cause i love you, deanie. a thousand more and you’re free to make our coffees,” you grinned and began leaving more tiny kisses on him as he sighed defeatedly with a smile.

A/N: soft dean! soft dean! soft dean! my favourite dean tbh i don’t think i’ve posted any fluff on here so here’s a short little something lol enjoy! <3

requests and feedback are welcome! reblogs support me and my writing! ty!

#༢ུ࿓ fig writes.ᐟ #in a soft dean mood atm #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #soft dean winchester #dean winchester x gf!reader #dean x reader #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #dean winchester drabble #dean

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sleepyangelkami · 7 months ago

Text

PLAYTHING s.winchester

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 1.2K

SAM WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - though on the road with dean, sam always comes home to you whatever chance he gets. this time, he feels he's been gone to long and when he finds you sleeping in only his shirt... he aches for you.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, dom!sam, sub!reader, p!v, sleepy sex, praise kink, reader mentioned to be smaller than sam, practically porn with no plot, gentle sex, unprotected sex, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

exhaustion coated sam as he fished around in the back pocket of his jeans, looking for the spare key to your house. it was late and by now, the stars covered the sky. he knew you'd be asleep, that's why he didn't bother knocking.

the door opened silently and sam silently cursed you for leaving your hallway light on. he was always telling you to turn it off before bed but without him there... you felt safer with it on.

he kicked his boots off, not wanting to make a mess of your carpet and found himself walking up the stairs, switching the light off as he went. he tossed his bag somewhere by the top of the stairs, knowing he'd come back to it in the morning.

all that mattered now was well, you.

he opened the door of your bedroom. it was dark but he could still make out the silhouette of your body. your leg was propped up, practically cuddling the duvet. he could see a shirt enveloping your body, too big to be yours.

as he slid his shirt off, he found himself longing to feel you, to touch you. it'd only been a week since he was in this room last and yet it had felt like an eternity that he'd been deprived of your touch.

whenever sam came home after his trips, he'd slide his clothes off and get right into bed. which is exactly what he did now. he wasted no time in enveloping his large arms around your body, pulling you in close.

the smell of your shampoo made his eyes flutter closed and the scent of his own cologne against the sleep shirt you'd stolen from him made his lips quirk.

"sammy?" your voice was a quiet, soft mumble. he loved the way you sounded when you'd just woken, so vulnerable. perhaps he loved it so much because he knew you wouldn't be so vulnerable with anyone else. just him.

"'m here, sweetheart." he felt you move in his embrace. he loved holding you like this, he wished he could get impossibly closer, as if it were possible.

you moved so that you were facing his chest, slightly lower down in the bed than he was. "how was your hunt?" even in the dark, your hands trailed up his arms. he was wearing nothing but his boxers. but feeling his body, there was something about it that just assured you he was really there. "missed you."

"yeah? how much?" the man ignored your first question, his hands sliding around your own body.

you couldn't describe the soft feeling of when he'd come home, feeling him, knowing he was there while he did the same to you. it was rather... lovely.

you felt his fingers inch higher, trailing past the flimsy material of his own shirt on your body. suddenly, you felt the base of his fingers against your panties.

"sammy." you practically whimpered out, low and sleepy. "'m tired."

"i know, honey." you felt him move your hair with his free hands, pressing gentle, damp kisses against your neck. not the kind of kisses he usually left, sucking and leaving marks, roughly and making sure everyone knew you were his. no, this was different. he wasn't kissing you to leave any marks or to induce pleasure, even. he was kissing you so softly, to let you know you were safe with him. "you don' have to do anything, okay? jus' lay there 'n let me do the work, yeah?"

a soft, "okay." left your lips, though your mind was still half torn between sleep and wake.

"good girl." pressing the same, simple kiss to your cheek as his fingers hooked against your cotton panties. you could feel him drag them down against your legs but truthfully, your eyes had fallen shut, tiredness seeping into you.

he pushed his own boxers out of the way too, discarding the clothing against the ground before grabbing his dick in his hand.

if he were being honest, he'd felt himself harden the minute he'd seen your body, pretty cotton panties on show, hardly covered by his own shirt.

perhaps he was being territorial now, but there was something so aching about seeing you in his shirt. he knew you were his, that was a known fact, but seeing you like this, it lit a part of him ablaze.

he moved his hand up and down his shaft, making sure it was hard enough before maneuvering it up against your wet hole.

he didn't push in yet, gently testing the waters as he pushed the tip around your cunt, softly against your clit and finally back down to your sopping hole again.

"jus' relax, baby." littering kisses against your skin. "gonna do all the work."

the hum that left your lips was slick with tiredness but when he pushed himself in, he was met with a stuttered gasp that left your lips. a grunt left his own, usually a string of curses would accompany it.

but not tonight.

often, he'd spend the first few minutes teasing you as much as he could.

but not tonight.

"good girl." he mumbled against your forehead which he had kissed tenderly. "doin' s'good."

he didn't speak much tonight, which he usually did. usually, he couldn't get himself to stop talking. dirty words and the sounds of loud moans would bounce from wall to wall. now, the room was filled with only heavy breaths and lazy whimpers that could be heard from you, buried in the crook of his neck.

but he didn't need you to say anything either. the mere feeling was enough.

it was different than usual. the feeling was indescribable, how comfortable you were with him. the realisation of that on his part was something so riveting.

even now, between the twisted blankets of your bed. you were half asleep, hardly able to keep your eyes open and yet you trusted him with the most vulnerable thing that you could. he realised how protected you felt with him, his large body enclosing around yours, hands gentle against your waist while your head stayed hidden between his neck and shoulder.

your gentle breaths, tiniest of whimpers in his ears was enough for him.

and it didn't take him long to get close.

perhaps he really had been deprived of you.

your breath grew slightly more shallow. "sam." is all you could whimper out, he knew exactly what it'd meant.

"i know, baby." he all but whispered back. "'s okay, let go f'me."

and when you came undone around his cock, he felt himself do the same.

even when everything was done, when the feelings floated away into the air and everything was replaced by this heavy weight of tiredness, he stayed inside you for a few minutes. he stayed inside of you until finally, he realised he was going to fall asleep if he didn't move.

and when he did move out of you, he still kept you close. his large hands trailed up your body, holding it as close as humanly possible.

"really did miss you, sammy." you whispered in the utter darkness.

it was enough for him to think. to really think. perhaps the life he lived wasn't worth it. if he had to give everything up just for a few moments like his with you, then he would.

"missed you so much more, angel."

and with the soft movements of one another's breaths, you fell asleep rather quickly, unable to fight of the tiredness that washed over you both.

sam made sure you didn't leave his embrace until the sun began to rise over the horizon.

main masterlist/sam's masterlist

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester one shot #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x reader fluff #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester x reader angst #sam winchester x reader comfort #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester angst #sam winchester smut #sam winchester comfort #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural x y/n #supernatural drabble #sleepyangelkami

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southernimpala · 1 month ago

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night moves

dean winchester x fem!reader

summary ↬ dean teaches you to play pool !

notice ↬ a lil suggestive but superrr fluffy, i want him to teach me pool, literally need this man so bad it's not even funny, i listened to night moves by bob seger while writing this, no use of y/n, lowercase intended !

wordcount ↬ 900

the crack of pool balls clinking rings through an old dive bar in indiana, old license plates and road signs littering the dimly lit walls. the place is loud, drunk people yelling and cheering and punching, classic rock echoing from a scratchy speaker.

but dean winchester is in heaven.

he’s standing over a pool table, holding his pool cue up as he assesses where to make his next move. you’re leaning against the wall, nursing a beer, as you watch him set his eyes on one of the pool balls, which seemed way too off path to roll into any of the pockets. he lines up the cue and starts to lean over the table.

“there’s no way you’re hitting that in,” you say teasingly, taking a swig.

dean doesn’t even stir at your comment, and without fault, strikes the billiard ball right into the far right pocket.

he straightens up and looks at you from across the table, giving you a shit-eating grin, “still think so, sweetheart?”

you’re still recovering from how he managed to make the shot, so all you can muster is a nod, “hmhm… yeah, totally can’t hit another ball in,” you say against the rim of your bottle.

he laughs, knowing there’s no way in hell you could. the deep rumble in his chest sends your knees buckling over themselves, “alright, lemme see what you got.”

you almost choke on the alcohol sliding down your throat, “what?”

“just try to hit a ball in,” he says, as if it’s the most straightforward task in the world. as he crosses over to you to hand you the cue, he gets close to your ear, “i promise, they don’t bite.”

you avert your eyes away from his jawline as it grazes yours, only for a second before he pulls away, taking your half empty beer from you and stealing your spot on the wall.

“alright, hit 7 into far left,” he instructs, pointing with the bottle, “yup, right there.”

you begin to sweat under the glowing white light above you—and because you can feel dean’s eyes watching you—almost knocking the ridiculously long stick into it as you orient yourself over the table. attempting to gauge a good spot for the cue to settle in your hands, you look to dean for help, “am i holding this right?”

“i don’t know, are you?” he taunts, taking a sip through a smirk.

you roll your eyes, huffing, before feebly trying to line the end of the cue up with the maroon ball staring at you dead in the face. you take a deep breath and slide the cue between your fingers before taking your shot.

without surprise, you completely miss, sending the cue flying right out of your grip onto the table.

and the ball?

not even touched.

“jesus, sweetheart, i think i’d hustle you,” dean jokes, shaking his head in contempt of your god awful performance.

“shut up,” you choke out, pitifully reaching to hand him back the cue, “just take the damn stick.”

but, he doesn’t. instead, he places your beer down on a nearby surface and signals for you to bend back over the table. with furrowed eyebrows, you listen, looking at him with confusion, “what are you doing?”

“teaching you how to hit 7 into the far left,” he shrugs, moving to stand behind you.

your face burns, eyes wide as you feel him pressed against your back, leaning on you as his hands reach around to adjust the stick in your grip. he skillfully places the end of the cue between your thumb and index finger—“there, keep it right there,”—resting it delicately in that spot.

you swallow harshly as dean’s fingers trace up yours, his touch so soft; so different from his usual roughness. it sends your stomach plummeting to your feet, dragging your heart along with it.

“alright, now, line it up—hmhm, but don’t move it from that spot—okay, you got that?” he mumbles as he adjusts.

a lump forms in your throat. you nod.

“right, now shoot,” he helps you slide the cue through the web of your palm, before sending it into the side of the ball.

it rolls straight into the far left pocket and relief spreads through you.

“i did it!” you call out, twisting around without remembering your extremely compromising position.

you were suddenly pressed between dean and the pool table, your faces only mere inches away as he’s still somewhat hunched into you. every time you exhale, your chest touches his, heart beating so wildly, you’re sure he can hear it through the bob seger and drunk singing.

“you did,” he says huskily, seemingly unbothered by your spot against him, but you swear his cheeks match yours in color, only a few shades lighter. he leans in slightly, eyes staring so intensely into yours, it’s impossible for you to look away, “think you can beat me in a match, now?”

you lick your lips on instinct and try to muster a smirk, something to signal you aren’t melting into the floor, “absolutely.”

dean’s gaze, hooded with something indescribable, flickers between your eyes, lips just brushing yours as he leans closer and closer before he abruptly stands up straight and shoves the pool cue back in your hands.

the bar suddenly sounds a million decibels louder. you’re frozen in your spot.

“show me what you got.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ dean winchester masterlist !

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester one shot #dean x reader #fluff #dean x you #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #works

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godjustkys · 15 days ago

Text

SYPNOSIS: teaching cas how to fuck, and of course, dean is the willing subject to be used!

CHARACTER: male reader x castiel x dean winchester

NOTE: this was originally gonna be another drabble (pt2) but i started writing and noticed how long it got, so full one shot. this is longer, as a thanks to 800 followers!! hell yeah!!

p.s. requests are always open!!

WC: 2.7k

WARNING: dom!reader,, switch!castiel,, sub!dean,, creampie,, unprotected sex,, spit as lube,, learning experience for cas,, double anal penetration,, praise,, pet names,, light shy!dean,,

castiel was watching every single move of yours with wide eyes, blown pupils and parted lips. the way you prepped dean seemed utterly filthy but he didn’t care. dean was whining for the first time in his life, an arm thrown over his eyes to try and keep his face hidden. he was naked on the bed, lying on his back.

once you approached castiel, he stiffened up visibly, trying to seem more composed as he closed his mouth and furrowed his eyebrows a bit. “remember what dean did?” castiel paused. “which part?” he said softly, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. “when i told him we have no lube,” you cleared up. “..he..” castiel paused once more, the imagery flashing through his mind again. he’s sinning, he knows he is, but damn it if it doesn’t feel a weird type of good. “you wanna fuck him, right? you don’t wanna hurt him, i assume?” you asked castiel, your lips ghosting over the corner of his mouth. the angel’s breath hitched, almost tilting his head instinctively, ready to deepen the nonexistent kiss. “cas?” you cooed softly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. castiel blinked dumbly, not even reciprocating the gesture. “uhm, yes. no.” he said breathlessly. “don’t want to.. hurt him.” his eyes flickered to dean, who was now propped up on his elbows, watching the two of you with a pouty face.

you noticed it, too. the look on dean’s face. “okay, he’s getting pouty. open your mouth.” you turned your attention back to castiel, bringing up a hand to his lips. his eyes flickered with a hint of uncertainty, but he listened nonetheless. castiel’s lips wrapped around your fingers as you pushed them into his mouth. his tongue, hesitant at first, laved over the digits, trying to mimick what dean had done. he only knew because you made dean do it with his mouth open so castiel could see. his saliva coated your fingers generously. his pretty blue eyes, wide and unsure, never left yours, so full of need that it made your stomach clench. “good boy,” you muttered, sliding your digits free with a soft pop, the wetness of them glistening under the dim light.

you reached down and freed castiel’s cock with your other hand, swiftly, your wet fingers wrapping around his length and giving a few slow pumps, slicking him up. castiel made a soft sound that obviously escaped him involuntarily, his hands getting clammy. eventually, you deemed him slick enough and you guided him to dean. “spread ‘em.” you told him as castiel watched intently. with a small grumble, dean complied, spreading his legs slightly. pushing the angel forward, you made him step between the hunter’s legs. dean shifted, his eyes locking onto castiel’s. “don’t look at me like that..” dean mumbled out, rubbing a hand over his face. “can’t believe i’m actually doing this..” you lined castiel’s cock up against dean’s entrance, feeling the angel shudder at the heat. this was actually a pleasant surprise; castiel’s cock was nice and thick. if only he knew how to use it..

“push in slow,” you instructed, lips brushing against the shell of castiel’s ear. “make him feel every inch of you.” the angel’s hands hesitantly landed just above dean’s hips, his large, gentle hands hot to the touch. “are— are you-” he started, but you cut him off. “c’mon. look at ‘im. he wants you, you can see it in his eyes. you can feel the lust.” you spoke, moving a hand to dean’s knee to push his legs wider apart. dean scrunched his face up, throwing an arm over his eyes once again. castiel obeyed your previous order with a stuttery sigh, inching forward slowly, the head of his cock breaching dean’s rim. he pussied out though, retracting his hips back, before he solemnly spoke up. “dean looks like—”

“cas. he’s not in pain.” you muttered against the side of his neck, subtly urging castiel. he decided to try again, his hands trailing down to dean’s thighs, touch light. dean almost instinctively bucked his hips up, the touch of the angel’s hands truly making him feel ecstatic. he pushed in again, this time to halfway. both of them were breathing heavily. castiel’s face was flushed while the tips of dean’s ears turned red. dean, of course, like the slut that he was, pressed his hips down in order to get castiel all the way in. you tutted disapprovingly at his actions. “don’t do that, sweetheart. let cas take his time.” you warned him, and in return, dean whimpered. the sound had a very obvious effect on castiel as he stilled. hearing dean make those sounds because of him made him twitch inside. “all the way in, cas. all the way in.” you coaxed him, pressing a hand to the angel’s lower back. castiel nodded once as you guided castiel’s hips, pressing forward, watching as his thick cock disappeared into dean’s body, slow and ruthless. inch by inch, his hole stretched obscenely around the angel, swallowing him down until castiel was fully sheathed, balls flush against dean’s ass. “good.” you muttered to castiel, your hand rubbing up and down his back in a soothing gesture. “stay deep,” you started, your lips ghosting the shell of castiel’s ear, making him shiver slightly; he didn’t know his vessel was ticklish.. “feel how tight he is around you? how he’s clenching? he loves being full like this.” you spoke, castiel’s eyes not once leaving dean’s pretty body. dean mewled, pushing back, clearly greedy.

“fuck him slow at first,” you ordered. “make him beg.”

you stayed close, hand on castiel’s lower back to steady him as the angel pulled back, slow and shaky, before thrusting forward again. dean groaned loudly, pressing a hand over his mouth, every slow roll of castiel’s hips earning little broken sounds out of him. you watched as castiel fucked into dean with steady building confidence — hips snapping just a tad bit harder, faster, small groans leaving the angel’s lips at the sensation. sweat slicked both of their bodies, dean’s cock untouched and leaking precum over his abdomen. “harder, cas. he can take it.” you said, enticing castiel. you moved to stand behind the angel, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. castiel obeyed your order with a small groan, pounding into dean with a quite brutal rhythm that made the bedframe rattle. such a fast learner.

————

castiel’s fingers were digging into dean’s thighs, his eyes wide. dean was propped up on his palms, on either side of the angel. dean felt wrecked already; he hasn’t slept with many men, and he never bottomed. now to take two cocks? yours and castiel’s? fuck. “look at cas, dean, he’s the one inside ya,” you taunted, rubbing your hands over his hips. dean was on all fours, castiel’s cock still buried deep inside dean’s hole. you lined yourself up, the anticipation making dean moan. castiel felt his heart flutter weirdly, lips parting at the noises dean keeps emitting. “are you alright?” castiel asked worriedly, moving his head to catch dean’s gaze. you smiled at the question, very very slowly pushing the tip of your cock in. dean gritted his teeth as he scrunched his face up, muttering a small curse word. “relax dean,” you murmured, leaning over him, your chest pressing to his back. “you’re doin’ real good, baby,” slowly and steadily you pushed in, the pressure immense, almost unbearable. dean sought some sort of way to ground himself, to bear the pain, so, he moved his hands to castiel’s shoulders, gripping tight. in a moment of vulnerability, dean pressed his forehead to castiel’s, panting heavily. “f—fuck, fuck fuck fuck..” he breathed out in a broken voice. castiel being castiel, moved both of his hands up and gently cradled dean’s face. ‘how cute.’ you thought.

“shhh..” you soothed dean, running a hand up his spine. “you’re doin’ so good, takin’ us both.” you continued softly. it was slow going, your cock sliding in alongside castiel’s, the stretch obscene. dean let out a whiny, broken sob, legs trembling. when you were finally fully inside dean, pressed so tightly against castiel you could feel his heartbeat through it, you let out a drawn out, low and guttural groan. castiel’s lips ghosted over dean’s, torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to make sure he’s okay. eventually, castiel kissed dean roughly, the latter letting out a muffled moan against his mouth. dean was extremely tight, but it was only logical. to fit two cocks inside him was task enough. “move.. fuck, move.” dean gasped out against the angel’s mouth, rolling his hips albeit the action broken and stuttery. with a sigh, you comply, pulling back slowly, dragging your cock around dean’s tight, gummy walls, then thrust forward again, grinding castiel’s cock deeper into him at the same time. dean moaned out a half choked sound, shaking his head barely against castiel’s forehead. you set a rhythm with castiel, moving almost in sync — when you pulled out, he pushed in, and when you filled dean, castiel pulled back. it was relentless, overwhelming, every single thrust making dean feel like he was going to split apart and god, he loved it. castiel was making desperate, broken sounds too, right in dean’s ear, panting heavily.

dean clutched at castiel’s shoulders desperately, white-knuckled, his body caught between you and castiel — he felt used, stretched, filled so full that he could barely think. his cock dragged against castiel’s stomach with each painful thrust, leaking, twitching helplessly. “sonovabitch..” he sobbed against castiel’s skin. “you’re perfect, so perfect..” you praised, pressing opened mouth kisses against his shoulders, keeping the steady pace, savoring the filthy, obscene tightness of his hole. castiel’s cock kept twitching as he inhaled dean’s scent. he thought dean smelt so good that he moaned. castiel’s hands slid into dean’s hair, grasping lightly, his touch almost reverent. “you’re so beautiful.” he breathed out and dean let out the most pornographic moan he possibly could. he shoved his ass back, greedy for every thrust, for every wave of pleasure and pain that burned through him. dean was stuffed full, his walls stretching wide with every relentless drive of your hips. the heady squelch every time you would pull back was so lewd it turned you on even more.

“more, pretty?” you asked softly, hips grinding cruelly, deeper inside him. dean nodded, the action itself barely interpretable, body trembling violently. castiel’s thrusts were shorter, sharper. dean continued babbling pleas and nonsense, anything to keep both of you inside him. dean’s fingers were kneading castiel’s shoulders, continuously letting out slutty sounds. between the brutal pace and your filthy praise, dean was losing his goddamn mind. he came with a wrecked whimper, cock pulsing against castiel’s abdomen, hot ropes of cum painting the angel’s skin. in response, the one under dean moaned, hips stuttering. dean’s entire body clamped down, squeezing both of your cocks like a vice, and oh, the sensation dragged both you and castiel over the edge instantly. you cursed hoarsely, hips slamming forward as you came deep inside him, castiel doing the same with a loud, guttural whimper. dean shook from the force of his orgasm. he completely collapsed onto castiel, clinging to him.

the both of you slowly pulled out of dean and the hunter whined softly at the loss. cum leaked out of his hole and down his thighs. you rubbed the head of your cock against it, smearing the cum. the moment dean felt it, he grunted, nuzzling his face into castiel’s neck. with a grin on your face you took castiel’s cock, pumping him slowly and he immediately got hard again. castiel looked at you with a small frown, wondering what you were doing. “first lesson done,” you told the angel, sliding his cock back in dean again. “lesson’s two about takin’ it.” you said, settling yourself between castiel’s legs, pushing the tip against castiel’s rim. “not prepped, but,” you trailed off, looking at castiel as he gasped, feeling dean start moving on his own. “think you’ll do just fine..”

pushing your cock all the way in, albeit with slight resistance, castiel shifted, mouth open in another soundless gasp. the way you filled him, the way dean was leisurely riding his cock.. it felt so, so good. “c’mon, dean. you can do better than that.” you cooed, rubbing up and down against the side of dean’s thigh as you kept a steady rhythm, thrusting into castiel. dean sat up, propping himself by his palms, on castiel’s shoulders again. dean’s face was flushed, eyes glossy, sweat making his skin glisten, his hair stuck to his forehead. he had this dazed look on his face that made castiel clench and his cock twitch. “there ya go,” you muttered, pressing a kiss between dean’s shoulder blades. dean rolled his hips down harder this time, drawing a ragged groan out of castiel as he sank fully onto his cock. the stretch, the pressure of you steadily pounding into castiel, and now dean grinding down onto him — it was almost too much. castiel’s hands trembled where they gripped dean’s hips, fingertips digging into sweat-slick skin hard enough to leave bruises. “that’s it, baby,” you praised, your voice low and rough. “show him how much you want it.” dean whined under his breath, thighs trembling with effort. his pace picked up, messy and desperate, rolling and bouncing on castiel’s cock while you kept fucking into the angel with steady, brutal thrusts. each movement shoved castiel deeper into dean, the force jostling them both. castiel let his head fall back against the pillow, mouth open in a helpless moan, his hips jerking up to meet dean’s frantic rhythm. every time you slammed into him from behind, castiel’s cock speared up deeper into dean, making the hunter keen brokenly, tossing his head back. you slowed your thrusts just a little, savoring it — the way dean’s thighs shook with the obscure amount of effort to keep riding the angel, the wrecked little gasps he made every time castiel bottomed out inside him. “you look so pretty like this,” you murmured against dean’s sweaty back, dragging your tongue up to his earlobe. “fucked-out, desperate for it.”

dean whimpered, clenching helplessly around castiel’s cock, which in turn made castiel whine, nails biting into dean’s hips. dean’s body was trembling violently again, the pleasure almost unbearable, the steady rub of castiel’s cock against his sweet spot and your thick, relentless thrusts into castiel making him dizzy. “ca-can’t..” dean gasped, eyes squeezing shut. “gunna— gunna cum—” you wrapped a hand around his throat loosely, tugging him back against your chest, holding him upright as you fucked into Castiel — as castiel, trembling and panting, fucked up into him. “not yet,” you growled against the shell of his ear, tightening your grip just slightly. “not yet, dean.” dean whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut harder, biting his lip against the desperate pressure building in him. castiel whimpered too, overwhelmed, his body tensing underneath dean, his hands glowing just slightly. his grace. “dean—” castiel gasped, voice breaking. the hunter moaned loud, desperate, grinding down even harder, trying to chase it, needing it. you groaned low, feeling your own orgasm rising like a tide, your rhythm getting rougher, more erratic, hips slamming into castiel with a filthy, wet smack. “cum with me, cas,” you panted, nipping dean’s ear. “fill him up again. make him feel how much you want him.”

that was all it took.

castiel groaned loud, thrusting up deep and holding dean down on his cock as he came hard inside him. the heat of it, the twitch and pulse of castiel’s cock inside him, was too much for dean — he shattered apart with a broken sob, cock untouched, spilling across castiel’s chest as he came hard, muscles spasming. you fucked castiel through it, gritting your teeth as dean’s orgasm milked castiel’s cock; and the way castiel’s hole clenched around your cock dragged you under too, spilling deep inside the angel with a harsh groan. dean’s shaky arms gave out and he rested his forehead against castiel’s cheek, his body heaving with each breath he took. castiel laid boneless on the bed, trying to regulate his own breathing. you wrapped an arm around dean, pressing lazy, possessive kisses to his shoulder as your hand slid down to palm his hip.

“tired already?” you asked them both, eyes half lidded with lust. “we’re not finished yet,” you said with a small, breathy chuckle. “we’re just getting started.”

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wendichester · 25 days ago

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I'm baaaacckkkk =D If there is a cap on request please let me know I just love your writing style and how you work them.

Ok so here's what I'm thinking. Reader and Dean are newer in their relationship, but when they're on hunts she always insists on getting her own room. Dean is confused and asks her and she admits that she has been told that she talks in her sleep/moves too much/is awful to sleep with and she doesn't want to put Dean through that. Maybe a little trial run too if you're up to it.

Thank you I always look forward to your fics!!

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡ sleeping beauty,

summary. you're hard to sleep with, but dean doesn't really care. as long as you're tucked right by his side, he'll sleep soundly.

pairing. dean winchester x reader genre. fluff

wordcount. 697

notes. thank you so much for requesting and for supporting me ehe. the cap is 1000 requests 🤭🩷

Dean’s been noticing it for a while now.

Every time you two land at a motel after a hunt, you insist on getting your own room. You always say it's for the best, especially after a long day, and that you’re “fine on your own.” But he’s no fool. Something’s off about it, and the fact that you always look at him with that little worried frown when he brings it up… well, it’s starting to bug him.

So tonight, after an especially grueling hunt, he’s decided he’s finally going to get to the bottom of it.

He’s not really sure why it’s been bothering him so much, but when you say you’ll “take the bed in the next room” again, he can’t hold back any longer.

“Why do you always do that?” Dean’s voice is quieter than he intends, leaning against the motel room door as you fumble with your bag.

You freeze for a second, before turning around with a smile that’s a little too forced. “Do what?”

Dean cocks his head, crossing his arms. “Get your own room. You know you don’t have to do that, right?”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I just… I’m not good to sleep with, okay?”

His brow furrows in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

You shift on your feet, biting your lip. “I—uh, I talk in my sleep. Move around a lot. I mean, it’s kind of awful.”

Dean blinks, taking in your words, but doesn’t move. “You’re kidding, right? You’re fine. We’ve slept together on the road before…”

You cut him off, voice soft. “No, no. Not like that.”

Dean feels a pang of guilt twist in his gut. He hadn’t realized it was bothering you that much. He takes a slow step toward you, his voice quieter, more gentle. “Is that what you think? That it’s annoying to be around you?”

You look away, unable to meet his eyes. “Yeah. People’ve told me I’m terrible to sleep next to. I don’t want to put you through that.”

Dean’s heart tugs at the vulnerability in your voice. He steps even closer, closing the distance between you. “I don’t care if you talk in your sleep, sweetheart. I don’t care if you move all night. I want to be with you.”

You blink up at him, surprise and disbelief flickering across your face. “Really?”

Dean smiles, soft but certain, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course. You think that’s gonna stop me from being near you?” He takes your hands in his, squeezing them gently. “I just want you with me, [Y/N].”

There’s a quiet beat between you, then you look at him, nervous but hopeful. “So, uh, maybe we could... do a trial run?”

Dean’s eyes sparkle with amusement, his lips curling up into a slow grin. “You wanna test it out?”

You nod, cheeks pink as you shift from foot to foot. “Yeah. You know… see how bad it really is. If it’s that awful, I’ll go to the next room.”

Dean chuckles, that warm, familiar chuckle that always makes you feel at ease. “Alright, alright. We’ll see how it goes.”

Later that night, you find yourself curled up in Dean’s bed, wrapped in his arms, your head resting on his chest.

He’s quiet for a moment, just breathing, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back. You start to drift off, the exhaustion of the hunt finally catching up with you.

But then you feel it.

Your legs shift under the covers, a little too restless. You mumble something under your breath, the sleepiness creeping in.

Dean chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “See? Told you I didn’t care.”

You shift again, murmuring a few more unintelligible words, your hand brushing across his stomach.

Dean tightens his hold on you, a protective warmth flooding through him. You’re safe here. And so is he.

“Don’t worry about a thing, [Y/N],” he whispers, voice soft and steady. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You sigh, finally settling, your body relaxing into him.

And Dean smiles in the dark, knowing he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #supernatural #.docx #.req

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pieandflannel · 16 days ago

Text

₊˚⊹♡ body swap pt.3 👥

₊⊹ ʚ ₊⊹｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡˚ ₊⊹｡ ₊⊹ ୨♡୧ ⊹₊ ｡⊹₊ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡⊹₊ ɞ ⊹₊

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: your and dean’s curiosity gets the best of you, leading to some unholy bedroom tings.

cw: 18+ smut, pwp, filthy asf, sex toy play, cowgirl, missionary, unprotected p in v & creampie (wrap it up silly), language, teasing/mocking, slight praise, sub!dean, shy!dean. not really proof read. you’ve been warned.

word count: 2347 (this is the most I’ve written on tumblr yet whoop whoop)

julia yaps: a shower is needed after writing this thanks to yall pervy lil fucks (jk i luv uuuu) hope you enjoyyy <3

check out part one & part two

────────── ୨ৎ ──────────

“i see curiosity got the best of you… need some help with that?” you offered with a smirk as you stepped closer and closer to the bed. eyeing your own body that dean was occupying. you weren’t going to lie, seeing yourself sprawled out like that, in such a.. pathetic way had you feeling some type of way, was that the dean brain talking? it’s not like you cared at the moment really. right now your main focus was to show dean just how fun the bunny toy can be.

”y/n i can explain..” dean panicked as you walked closer, he knew he did bad by invading your privacy, but you weren’t going to scold him, after all you did play with his dick like ten minutes ago.

“shh it’s okay you don’t need to explain” you sat down on one side of your bed, your fingers lingering above his inner thigh, his breath hitching at the gentle contact.

“give me the toy, come on, don’t be shy” you spoke in a slow and soft but dominant tone. dean with slight hesitation passed the toy over to you, as the vibrator came in contact with your hand, a devilish smirk grew on your face.

you kicked your slippers off and got more comfortable on the bed, “open your legs for me” you commanded and dean surprisingly obeyed, shyly opening his legs enough for you to check out the beauty in between. for the first time you were honestly feeling proud of your own body, shame it had to take a god damn body swap hex for you to open your eyes that you looked like a sex bomb.

“now i’m going to insert it and turn it on, so don’t get startled okay?” you explained to him before circling the tip of the toy around the clit. dean let out a shaky breath, his eyes dilated from arousal.

you slowly slid the tip up and down between the folds, spreading the glistening wetness all around. come on, you had to mess with him a bit, he’s gotta see what it is like to be an owner of a clit. you could tell dean became impatient, his hips bucking up slightly every time the tip got close to the entrance. you couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle. “someone’s needy” you mocked.

“shut up” he spoke back in a mumble.

“now now, that’s no way to talk to someone that wants to help you feel good now is it?” you cooed at him. gently pushing the tip of the toy in the entrance before pulling out, and repeating it until he let out a desperate whine. god teasing him was so fun.

“you really want to try this out don’t you?” you let out a chuckle, honestly a little surprised at dean’s curiosity, but you don’t really blame him. dean looked absolutely pathetic when he gave you the doe eyes and a nod. god he was so breedable like this.

you slowly pushed the toy inside him, he let out a soft whimper as he felt the toy stretch him out. you didn’t wait long after that to switch the toy on, he let out a sharp gasp, gripping the bedsheets. you couldn’t help but smirk at his reaction, so pathetic and breedable for someone that claims to be a big scary hunter.

you gently moved the toy in and out, the bunny ears rubbing the clit in such a way you had him moaning, head tilted back. he definitely flicked the bean before this, there is no way he’s this sensitive simply because. that little whore.

his hips grind against the toy as whimpery moans continued to fly out his mouth, fuck you could feel your dick twitching in your pants at his little reactions. he was squirming around the bed and whining under his breath. how could you not get hard from that right?

“there’s my good boy, you’re doing great” you praised him as you turned the toy onto a higher mode. his legs began to shake, his back arching. “oh god, f-fuck” he moaned, closing his eyes as the pleasure intensified. knuckles turning white from his harsh grip on the bed sheet.

you knew your body well enough to know when you’d get close, so when you felt him getting close, you turned the toy off and stopped pumping.

leaving him on the edge, whining and crying. “oh come on~ please i was so close” he begged, his walls pulsing around the toy.

“oh i know you were, it is my body after all” you chuckled, pulling the toy out and putting it away to the side and casually positioning yourself between his legs.

“but how bout we.. yknow-” you looked down at his swollen clit and lips. your cock was already hard again, restrained in the pjs. “-make this interesting”

dean looked up at you with slight wide eye at your suggestion, but damn he wasn’t going to lie that the offer wasn’t tempting as hell. i mean it’s not like it’ll hurt anyone right? both of you are consenting adults, though in each others bodies, but still, consenting. and curious.

“well if you’re okay with it, so am i” dean replied honestly. you were glad he was on board with this, this situation was lowkey fucked up but at least you were in this together.

he cleared his throat, “um..why don’t you lay down and-“

“you want to ride me?” you interrupted him with a little smirk on your face. dean wasn’t used to being this flustered, but you brought that out of him right now, especially when it was easier while being in his body.

“could you not– j-just shut up… yes, yes okay?” a blush forming on his cheeks as he couldn’t form his answer without stuttering like the shy little girl he currently was.

“just lay down will you?” he mumbled as he pushed you to lay down, your back hitting the mattress. all you could really do was smirk, oh you were so going to enjoy this.

the bulge in your pants was evident, dean couldn’t help but look down at you with a shaky breath. “what’s the matter sweet cheeks? you nervous?” you teased him, resting your hands behind your head with a smug expression, getting a small glare from him.

his fingers hooking at the waistband of your pants and pulling them down, you lift your hips to help him take them off. “this is so weird..” he mumbled, a cute rosey shade on his cheeks.

“only if you make it weird” you shrugged, but you were right. it would only be weird if the both of you decided that it is. but you two have been through some real weird ass shit, so this is literally nothing.

as your pants were off and dick was out, dean’s eyes widened a bit as he had a first class third person view of his dick. you noticed his smug little smirk in the corner of his lips, clearly proud of himself. “i must say, you do have a nice cock” your words make him look up into your eyes.

“you couldn’t help yourself could you?” dean asked with a small amused smirk. you just grinned and shrugged.

he took a deep breath before climbing on top of you, taking your cock and aligning it at his entrance. he looked down into your eyes, looking for any signs of hesitation or doubt. “wait wait wait” you spoke, making him freeze in his tracks. did you change your mind? shit he made it weird didn’t he?

“dean is this your first time having sex?” you jokingly asked him as you passed him the bottle of lube. “even when you’re wet, lube is your friend”

dean let out a relieved sigh, grabbing the bottle and squirting a good amount on your dick, gently lathering it up with his hand. your breath shook at the sudden slow motion of his hand. “feels nice huh?” he asked with a smirk, purposely gripping your cock a bit tighter as he spread the lube all over your shaft. your mouth flew open as you let out a shaky breath. it did feel good, shit it felt great. and you wanted more.

“fuck, just sit on it already” you spoke out in a direct tone. dean chuckled at your impatience but he also couldn’t wait much longer. he positioned you at his entrance yet again, hand sticky with lube, slowly he sank down on your cock.

your toy looking so silly right now comparing to the girthiness of the cock, dean let out a soft moan as his walls stretched out nicely, feeling himself wrap around you. both of you cursed under your breath. the new sensation feeling oddly refreshing.

your hands rested on his waist as you looked up into his eyes, lips parted slightly. you gently started guiding dean’s hips, making him grind and ride you, the wet squelching sounds softly echoing in the room every time he sank back down on your cock. “oh wow..” the both of you managed to say almost in sync.

dean’s pace picking up in no time, both your hips in rhythm with each other. the constant exchange of moans and whimpers could probably be heard from the closed bedroom door. your grip on his hips tightening as he let his hands rest on your chest.

one of your hands found it’s way between his legs, your thumb flicking and circling at the clit, adding the extra something to dean’s experience. he threw his head back as sparks of pleasure rush through his body. “you like that?” you smirked, continuing to play with the clit making him lose his rhythm, thighs starting to shake. “aww too much for lil dean to handle?” you cooed at him.

“alright then, my turn” you spoke before lifting him up with ease and flipping him over, it was so fun having dean’s strength. you wasted no time, towering over him and positioned yourself between his legs, aligning yourself at the entrance and sliding back in with ease.

you rolled your hips slowly, thrusting in and out, firstly trying to figure out a good pace. dean wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling you closer, and kissing you in the heat of the moment, but holy shit was it amazing. you and him kissing as you’re inside of him. man was this fun.

your hips picked up the speed and you had him moaning into your mouth in no time, you on top of him, giving it to him raw. “i- i think i’m close” dean spoke as he pulled away from the kiss for some air. you grabbed him by the hair and tilted his head back, latching your lips onto his neck. “good” you growled against his skin. the animalistic need to mark him up awakening from deep inside you.

dean dug his nails into your back as you started to thrust at a brutal force. his legs wide open which helped you bury yourself balls deep inside him. “i’m close too” you whisper into his ear before biting and kissing his neck teasingly.

“you want me to pull out?” you asked, slightly panting at this point, it was quite a workout for your hips. “it’s your pussy you decide” he replied breathlessly.

“fuck, fine, do you wanna know how it feels to get creampied?” you rephrased the question. at first he was a bit speechless at your offer but he nodded eagerly without much thought. “yes”

his eagerness making you let out a chuckle, your thrusts becoming much more sloppier as you got closer to the edge. you fisted his hair again and gave his neck a lick where you left marks. but be assured, his nails left red marks all across your back, a little exchange you could call it.

your body tensed up and suddenly you felt a huge wave of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you moaning against his skin. you shot your load inside him and continued to pump yourself dry. he followed you right after as he felt the warm cum fill him up. a pretty white ring decorated your shaft every time you pulled out before pushing back in.

both your hips eventually stopped moving, heavy breathing coming from the both of you. you let your forehead rest against his, eyes closed as you came down from your high.

as the both of you catch your breath and open your eyes, you realised you were back in your own body, underneath him. as he was in his. “oh my god, dean we’re back in our bodies” you let out a sigh of relief with a smile.

the spell was broken.

dean looked down at you with a relieved smile himself. “guess all it took to break the spell was to have sex huh?” dean smirked. he sat up, finally back in his body. “see, sex solves everything” he added cockily.

his body still in between your legs, his cock buried deep inside you. the view was beautiful but he had to pull out. his white load leaking out as soon as he does so. “but you gotta admit it was fun” he raised his brow.

you giggled “yeah it was, no wonder guys jerk off so much” your words making him roll his eyes in a playful way.

for a long second there was silence. none of you spoke, just looked into each others eyes. stealing shy smiles.

“okay, why don’t we get you cleaned up?” he offered as he got up from the bed, pulling up his pants and getting some tissues from your nightstand.

“oh and um, nice piercings you got there by the way” dean couldn’t help himself from commenting on them, adding a cocky wink.

“might if i played with them from time to time?” he smirked.

“i fucking knew the first thing you’d do is check out my tits” you shook your head with an amused smile.

this was the last part! hope you enjoyed this mini series (if you can even call it that)

thank you so much for reading! feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated <3

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inosukijiro · 22 days ago

Text

✮⋆˙ cuddles with dean

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ dean learns to be a little selfish.

𖤐 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ deans my cutie little lovebug and i just want him to sleep peacefully this is my dream and i definitely got carried away writing this (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) okay bye

𖤐 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ fluffy fluff with angst(?). cuddles. mentions of deans time in hell, and his low self-esteem. dean-centric. gender-neutral reader. modern reader in spn. isn’t really season specific, but set anytime after season 4. probably ooc (again). i may have rushed at the end, sorry. 2.68k words.

─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

It takes Dean a long time before he ever allows himself to be put in this position — vulnerable, open, seen. It’s not something he does. It’s not something he can do, or at least, not that easily. His life has never really been about him. Every good thing he’d ever done, every ounce of effort or care, it’s always been for someone else: Sam, Dad, the job. He’d never done anything for himself that didn’t somehow bleed into someone else. And even then, it never felt like enough.

Sam is his little brother, his responsibility. He raised him, he bled for him, he died for him. Dean had went to Hell with Sam’s name carved into every broken piece of him. Most people wouldn’t do that. But Dean Winchester isn’t most people. He’s his father's little soldier, the good son, the obedient one. There was never room for anything else. Never any space to figure out who he was outside of someone else's shadow. He didn’t belong to himself. Not when he was Sam’s guard dog. Not when he was John’s perfectly crafted weapon.

Dean hates himself — that much is obvious. He doesn’t need to say it out loud because he’s pretty sure that everyone already has that figured out, even if he wants to pretend that it isn’t true. It shows in the way he moves, the way he talks, the way he tears himself down before anyone else can get the chance to. He calls himself selfish, even though everything he’s ever done has been for the sake of everyone else. But he doesn’t see it that way. Dean never has. To him, sacrificing everything he is was just the bare minimum. That’s what he should do. Because what is he, if not useful? What is he, if not needed?

He’s so used to standing alone, to being the last line between the people he loves and the things that want to tear them apart. He'd rather it be him than anyone else — because somewhere along the way, he decided that his life just doesn't hold the same worth. Not like Sam's. Not like yours. And he hates that it hurts, but he also hates that he even thinks about wanting anything at all. Because wanting is selfish. Needing is selfish. And comfort? That’s not something Dean thinks he’d ever be allowed.

He’s touch-starved. He’s touch-starved in a way that's ingrained deep within his bones, but he’s convinced himself that this is just how it’s supposed to be. That he doesn’t get softness. Doesn’t get warmth. Doesn’t get to be held, or healed, or cared for. And if he ever lets himself want it — if he ever lets someone close enough to see how tired he is — then what does that make him? Weak? Needy?

Yeah, it takes Dean a long while to let himself be put in this position — in your arms, safe, and loved, and for him to think that maybe he does deserve it. Even if he hasn’t earned it the way he thinks he’s supposed to. When it's so clear that all you want is to give it to him, no strings attached. It’s like coaxing a wild animal – careful, patient, and slow. You never corner Dean with affection, never overwhelm him with your gentle nature he doesn’t think he’s allowed to want. You just exist in his space, solid and steady, a quiet kind of constant that doesn’t ask for anything in return. And maybe that’s what gets to him most, that you don’t expect him to earn your kindness. You’re just there. And over time, that simple act starts to chip away at something inside him, something he didn’t even realize was still breakable.

It started with the smallest things. Your fingers brushing against his whenever you pass him something. The way you rest your hand on his arm when patching him up. They’re nothing, really — just harmless touches that you probably don’t even think about twice. But Dean does. He thinks about them more than he should. At first, he tells himself it's because he's not used to it. But the truth is, he misses it when it's gone. And that terrifies him. Because wanting something for himself? That’s not in the job description. That’s not who he’s supposed to be.

So when you get together and the cuddling starts, it’s always him as the big spoon. Of course it is. That’s who Dean is — the protector, the shield. He doesn’t let himself be held, not yet. He keeps watch even in the deepest of sleeps and in the darkest of nights, as if danger might strike at any moment. But your warmth seeps into him, like sunlight soaking into skin long starved of it. Dean’s drawn to you in a way that he hasn’t been drawn to anyone or anything before. His hand drifts to your chest, his breath soft and calm against your shoulder. It’s never deliberate, not at first, but over time it happens more often — these small, tender trespasses into comfort. And soon one day, without thinking, he simply lets himself fold right into you.

Dean revels in it more than he’ll ever admit. The way he fits so nice and easily in your arms — like he was always meant to be there. His head rests just above your heart, breathing synced with yours in the kind of rhythm that makes the world feel quiet for once. He's tucked into you so firm, your arms wrapping around him to secure him to you. As if in that moment, if something were to come through those motel doors, they would have to pry Dean from your cold dead hands. Because right now, he’s hidden from the world by the comforter that lays gingerly over him. It comes right up to his head, only his hair is visible to anyone that dare to even check. The only person that can truly see him is you.

And Dean loves the little things that you do. Like how your fingers will trace shapes into the back of his neck, absent-minded and soft, like you’re painting calmness directly into his skin. Sometimes he wonders if you're drawing sigils or love notes, or just letting your touch wander. He doesn’t care what it is, though, just to be clear. He doesn’t care what you do. It leaves him feeling weightless, like his body is finally remembering what it feels like to be safe. That sensation, those tingles running down his spine, are enough to anchor him in the moment. And when everything else in his life has been chaos and guilt, and war — your touch is the one thing that doesn’t ask anything of him.

Which reminds him why he loves your hands. The way they move with such care, so soft it nearly breaks him into pieces. They’re nothing like his own — scarred, calloused, blood-soaked and burned by the weight of a world he never had a choice in. Your hands don’t carry the same kind of grief. They don’t know what it’s like to be dragged through Hell, to scream for years that don’t exist in time, to become the thing he swore he’d never be. He still remembers every second of it, every moment he was the one on the rack — the one being tortured, and worse, becoming the torturer. And somehow, your hands still touch him like he’s someone worth such devotion.

That’s what gets to him the most. Your hands are from a place far far away, untouched by the things that plague his. There are no hunts or horrors quite like this life. And it’s that contrast that makes his mind wander. Because how could someone like you, with your soft hands and open heart, want someone like him? Someone who hates himself, who always puts others before himself and still believes he’s selfish for wanting anything in return. But even with all of that, even with everything screaming that he shouldn’t take it, he does.

And you don’t mind. It surprises Dean the most how you completely and effortlessly don’t mind. He keeps waiting for the catch sometimes, for the moment when you pull away or start to expect something in return. But it never comes. Not with you. You let him hold on as tightly as he needs to, let him drape his weight across you like he’s something heavy and fragile all at once. His strong arms lock around your waist, pressing you close like he’s afraid of being pulled away. And even when his body sinks into yours like a living blanket — too warm, too much — you never pull away. If anything, you melt right into him, and he basks in that. In you.

You’d never complain. Dean doesn’t know if anything he does actually bothers you — nothing ever seems to — but that doesn’t stop him from overthinking. He worries about taking too much, about letting himself get too comfortable in a role he was never allowed to want. He questions if he’s too heavy, if he’s clinging too tightly, if maybe it’s selfish to crave softness when his whole life has been about giving it away. Sometimes, all it takes is a subtle shift from you, a stretch or a sigh, and his brain darkens with guilt. He’ll apologize under his breath, pulling back just slightly, ready to undo the comfort he let himself believe he could have. But you notice — of course you notice — and you meet it with tenderness, never rejection.

You resettle without hesitation, like you want him there, and he almost can’t handle how gently you handle him. You stroke the back of his neck with featherlight fingers, your arms curling around his broad frame as if you’re telling him to stay — that he’s safe. You press soft kisses to the crown of his head, murmuring reassurances in a voice that wraps around his heart like a warm blanket. It undoes him. Every single time.

You might shift again, though this time it's much more gentle and slow, but Dean will barely register it. He’s just barely treading the line of that quiet space between sleep and wakefulness, just conscious enough to feel the warmth of you wrapped around him. And suddenly, a low, involuntary sound escapes him — so low that Sam who’s been long asleep couldn’t hear. It’s soft, almost like a whine, and you’re pretty sure if he were awake enough to notice, he’d probably deny it ever happened. But you do hear it, and it pulls a quiet laugh from your throat; a breathy sound laced with fondness and it tickles at Dean's brain. Though a sleepy pout tugs at your lips, even as you smile, and you lean in close to whisper a little teasing, “What’s wrong, hm?” but you already know. You know exactly what he wants, what he needs, because you’ve come to understand him in ways no one else ever has.

Your hand finds its way into his hair, still a little damp from the shower — the strands soft like clouds and a few curl slightly at the ends. Your fingers scratch lightly at his scalp, in slow and soothing consistent movements, while your other hand rests along his back; drawing slow, tender circles that feel like medicine to his aching and tension-filled body. You coo something nice, something sweet that melts into the space between you. It makes his mind go fuzzy and causes him to drift deeper. You don’t care that he’s heavy, or clingy, or quiet — you just want him to feel good. To be cared for, completely and unconditionally. And in this moment, that’s exactly what he lets you do. He doesn’t fight it. He can’t.

Your kisses are the softest sound he’s ever heard. Little clicks as your lips part from his skin, quiet and sweet and endlessly patient. Every single one makes him burrow closer, hiding his face like he could melt straight into you. He’s not embarrassed, not really — that wouldn’t be the correct word anyway — but his cheeks are warm, and he knows you’re amused by the way your chest rumbles with a quiet laugh. It makes him press in deeper, his face tucked away and eyelashes fluttering against your skin like a shy confession. And you take that as permission, because of course you do; pressing slow kisses across his cheeks, along his brow, the curve of his nose — anywhere your mouth can reach really and Dean just lets you. He can’t quite reach your lips from the angle he’s trapped himself into, he knows that, but he still tries to return the affection anyway. He’ll drowsily nudge kisses against your collarbone, or your shoulder, or anything he can manage.

And you call him such sweet things while you do it. They’re soft pet names that make him ache. Honey. Sweetheart. Words that never felt like they belonged to him before, but somehow, coming from you, feel like they do. He doesn’t know why you calling him sweetie makes his chest tight in a way that isn’t derived from panic or just something bad — but it does. But it’s also the way you say his name that gets him the most. The way it rolls off your tongue, syrupy and lovely, like something precious. You make his name sound beautiful. And Dean doesn’t know how you do it, how you take a name he’s only ever heard barked in anger or strained with urgency and turn it into something tender.

Your hand leaves his back for a moment and he misses the weight of it instantly — until he feels the soft brush of your fingers along his jaw. He sucks in a breath as you trace the edge of it with the back of your knuckle before cupping his cheek, stroking it with the pad of your thumb like he’s something delicate. He leans into it without meaning to, something quiet and needy pulling him into the warmth of your palm. You’re having fun with it, doting on him like he’s your favorite thing — and yeah, he is. He feels it in the way you touch him, in the way you look at him like he’s soft and worth loving. Dean’s never been cherished like this, not even close — and it makes him feel dizzy, overwhelmed in the best way possible. Dizzy and safe. Always safe, always with you.

It melts his heart and terrifies him at the same time. The way you treat him with so much care, so much softness, like he’s something worth keeping. And as much as he craves it, as deeply as his wretched soul aches for it, he still doesn’t believe he’ll ever actually deserve it. He tells himself he should pull away in the last conscious moments he has — but he doesn’t. He won’t. Because he let this happen. He let you in. Let the warmth of your love root itself in him until it was too deep to tear out without causing pain. Until not leaning into it hurt way worse than anything else.

Dean doesn’t know how he ended up here, wrapped up in arms that want nothing from him except for him to exist, but he gave up trying to make sense of it a long time ago. He can’t seem to make himself care about the why, though, not when you don’t seem to either. And maybe that does make him selfish because he’s finally allowing himself to be. Sure, maybe there’s a whisper of guilt that still creeps into the corners of his mind, but you always chase it out with a kiss, or a soft word, or a tender look. And in these quiet, sacred moments, where his mind is just full of thoughts of you — he can’t think of Hell. He can’t think of all the horrors and pain and suffering. Just you. Sweet and gentle, and wonderful you. And somewhere in the deep dark of the night, Dean wonders why he was so against being selfish sooner.

𖤐 .ᐟ dean winchester hit me up, im always available just lmk (๑>؂•̀๑)

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #spn x reader #spn x you #spn x y/n #spn #no use of y/n #no y/n #reader insert #modern!reader #supernatural x y/n #dean winchester fic

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