Just been thinking about whatever this is
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
ojovivo

oozey mess
Show & Tell
dirt enthusiast

romaâ
taylor price
Not today Justin
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

Origami Around

pixel skylines
Xuebing Du

if i look back, i am lost
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
RMH
KIROKAZE
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United States

seen from France

seen from Singapore

seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France

seen from United States
seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from Brazil

seen from United States
seen from Indonesia

seen from Singapore

seen from United States
seen from United States
@ankylbyter
Just been thinking about whatever this is

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
This is the cutest thing ever đĽşđ
take what you want
âŚRead on aO3! - Masterlist - Dean MasterlistâŚ
âŚsummary: you and dean hate each other. there isn't a moment you aren't fighting, just like there isn't a moment you don't wish he'd love you back, and there isn't a single second he doesn't want you more than you can imagine. âŚ
âŚwarnings/tags: Dean Winchester x female!reader, no use of y/n, no description of reader, implied age gap (20s - 40s), jealous!dean, angst, overprotective dean, pining, idiots in love, as is my way, feral smut (manhandling, praise kink and degradation kink, dry humping, teasing, dean's dirty talk, stripping, thigh riding, praise kink, soft!dom Dean, light nipple play, begging, fingering, face sitting, jerking off, pussy slapping, rough sex, some edging, cockwarming, creampie, big dick dean, mean dean, overstimulation, body worship, dumbification, light dacryphilia, finger sucking, squirting), love confessions, fluffâŚ
âŚwc: 11.5kâŚ
âŚauthor's note: monthly voted fic! he's yearning so hard guysâŚ
The bar is loud, but you expected that. Itâs what you needed. Between that and the drink in you hands, itâs going to quiet your thoughts. They get lost in chatter of the crowd, and the bass drum of the music. It pounds in your chest and dislodges your heart. You let it. You donât want to feel it right now.
You check your phone, even though youâve told yourself not to. The case is sticky from the bar counter, and you wrinkle your nose at the screen before you even read the messages.
Five missed calls from â Dean Winchester.
A sixth one comes through, your phone buzzing angrily. You roll your eyes, and for a long second you seriously consider drowning the damn thing in the abandoned beer glass next to you.
He doesnât get to call you, like youâre some wandering child. He doesnât get to get angry about you being out, when heâs the reason youâre here in the first place. And you told Sam to tell him that youâd be here. So really, this is Deanâs fault, then Samâs, then yours.
The call goes to voicemail. You flip the screen back over, and take a long drink. If itâs really that big a deal that youâre out without him, he can put on his pants and come get you himself.
And he wonât. And thatâs part of the problem.
Deanâs going to lecture you about safety when you crawl back in the morning, and youâre going to roll your eyes. Heâll ask you if you think somethingâs funny, sweetheart? You look him dead in his pretty eyes and say I donât know, is it? Heâll get angrier. Youâll get angrier. Sam will try to mediate, and youâll throw something at him before stomping off. Dean will chase after you, and wrestle you back into the room while calling you a brat.
When you get tossed down on the mattress, youâll sink your nails into his shoulder, because you do every time. You want to drag him down with you, to make him feel this the same way you always have.
To big, too much. Too soft in all the wrong places, and too spiked everywhere else. Thereâs a sharp, angry shell around your heart thatâs grown like an exoskeleton. Itâs got wires and teeth that snap, whenever Dean gives you a little too much attention. You can never tell if itâs trying to eat him or latch onto him anymore. You donât think it really matters.
Dean hates you. He thinks you hate him. Heâs going to grab your knees and pin them to your chest, and youâre going to be the only woman in the world who he doesnât notice flush against him. Heâll hiss that you canât just go running around alone. That itâs not like you, to be reckless. You spit a fuck you, his grip will get tight, and heâll shove you away to go take one of his long showers.
Sam will tell you to stop testing him. Youâll tell Sam to eat himself, and go back to sulking like a child in the corner.
Only Dean can do that to you. You hate and love him for it.
When you metâon a hunt that didnât matter, until it didâhe made you all giggly and dumb. Years of training and a mind that could never slow down, turned to goo from one roughish, lazy smile.
âYou like trouble?â Heâd asked you, trying even then to talk you out of a hunt.
âNo. No one likes trouble.â
Dean had chuckled. âI donât know about that, sweetheart. Most girls like you love it.â
Youâd snorted. âGirls like me? Whatâs a girl like me?â
âGorgeous.â Heâd smirked, like heâd been dying for you to ask. âSmart. Mouthy-â
âMouthy?â Youâd cut him off, rolling your eyes. âAre you from the 60s?â
âNo. But youâre provinâ my point.â
âYou didnât have a point. You were just trying to sleep with me.â
Dean had raised his hands in mock surrender. âGuilty. But- Is it working-â
âNo.â
It had been. If Sam hadnât come back to the car two seconds later, you wouldâve climbed into Deanâs lap like a whore. Which wasnât what you were. It wasnât what you did. Sex with a half-stranger, sex in general, you didnât toss your body around easily. Youâd never been able to do the removing emotions part of casual sex. Youâd always managed to come up with a million reasons not to, most of them looking something like have a hookup, get pregnant, the fatherâs already gone, the babyâs born with cancer, you love it anyway and it dies in your arms, if youâd been more responsible the baby wouldâve solved climate change, everyone dies in a fiery explosion.
But youâd looked at Dean, and seen no death or path out that didnât end in light. Heâd grabbed your thigh in the dark of the car, and youâd flushed and smiled to yourself like a schoolgirl.
âYou wanna know my middle name?â Heâd whispered to you, later that night.
âThatâs the worst pick up line Iâve ever heard-â
âItâs not a pick up line! Iâm askinâ you a question-â
âBut itâs going to turn into a pickup line.â Youâd said flatly, and Dean had given you a boyish smile that almost made you forget that he was covered in vampire blood.
âYou already know me so well,â heâd cooed, and youâd snorted.
âYouâre predictable.â
âSo youâre never gonna wonder what Iâm thinking.â
Youâd shoved his face away with a hand, still giggling. This was usually the point in a hunt where you started thinking about what came next. How long you had to get out of town, how much food youâd need to eat now before you got to your next stopâif you eat too much, youâre going to overstuff and get sick, if you donât eat enough youâre going to be weak and pass out behind the wheel and cause a fifty car pile-upâand if there are any strings you needed to wrap up on the case.
But Dean had been smiling at you. And that had felt like the only thing that mattered.
âCâmon, ask me what my middle name is-â
Youâd covered his mouth with a hand, shooting him a stern glare. His eyes had gleamed with affection, and something deeper you try not to think about now. It hurts too much. It makes you mourn for something that was never even yours to have.
âOnly so you shut up,â youâd whispered. âWhatâs your middle name.â
Youâd dropped your hand, and Dean had touched his lips like he was in some telenovela. Youâd fought a smile. Youâd never known someone could be so handsome it made your heart ache, and so cute you thought youâd explode.
Heâd puffed out his chest, and grinned at you like he won the lottery.
âItâs Trouble-â
âItâs Adam.â Sam had called from the table. Dean had looked at him like heâd just murdered a puppy, and youâd laughed so hard you almost fell off the bed.
And youâd thought something was growing. Youâd been a foolish girl, who thought the dorky, handsome hero in front of her would give chase, when she turned him down.,
If you could go back, youâd slap yourself in the face and tell you to get it together. Dean Winchester is Dean Winchester. You listen to the what the shadows whisper. You knew his reputation before he smiled at you in the low light of his car. Youâre smart. Sam goes to you for research advice, youâve come up with whole new ways to kill demons and trap angels. You fucking knew better, than to fall in love with Dean.
You shouldâve known better.
You didnât.
So you attached yourself to them like a little, leeching parasite. You followed them around, the Winchesterâs shadow, and fell more in love with Dean, and got your heart broken every night when he slipped out of the bar with another woman on his arm.
Youâd gotten mean. Youâd started getting short with him, and heâd fueled the fire building in the cavity of your chest by being a dick. Suddenly you were too inexperienced for every hunt. Too young to be out aloneâyouâve had that fight more times than you can countâor too tense and tightly wound to think clearly.
Heâs the one who doesnât think clearly. Heâs the one who drinks himself to death after a hunt and has literally fucked monsters because he canât be bothered to plan ahead. He drags you and Sam to towns because heâs got a good feeling about them. He tells you to just relax, princess, and you want to punch him in his stupid, pretty face.
But you still love him. You love him so much you think itâs going to kill you. And you keep that locked in the deepest chamber of your heart, because he never needs to know that you still get stupid and soft for him. If he finds out that the first time he tried to leave on a hunt without you, you almost started crying in the middle of the bunker kitchen, heâll look at you like youâre crazy.
And you are crazy. You know that. Youâre a fumbling, wild ball of worries and sneers, and Dean would never want a nagger. Heâd never want a younger woman who acts like she knows betterâeven though you doâand who needs him to be perfectly attentive and affectionate every second of every day.
Youâre in love with a man who hates you. And if you had to listen to him fuck that secretary through the wall all night, you were going to kill yourself on their bed.
So now youâre at this loud, disgusting bar, drinking something that youâre praying numbs the pain, and smiling so wide it hurts your face.
The abandoned beerâs owner came back. Heâs a broad shouldered, smirking man with a clean cut face, and lighter hair. If you get a little more squint, he looks just like Dean. If you get a little more buzzed, heâll sound like him too.
You hate causal sex. It doesnât count if youâre pretending itâs Dean. It doesnât count if it makes this stop hurting.
âWhatâs a pretty thing like you doinâ here?â The man drawls, leaning across the bar.
You giggle, and it sounds distant to your ears. âDrinking.â
âYeah?â The man smirks. âYou like drinkinâ, doll?â
You shake your head, swinging your feet and spinning in the bar stool. The man raises his brows.
âYou sure you donât? Youâre goinâ through that thing fast.â
âIt tastes bad.â You wrinkle your nose. âFeels good.â
The manâs smile turns wolfish. Your phone starts to buzz again, and you glare at the screen before shutting it fully off.
âBoyfriend?â The man asks, and you shake your head.
âHe wishes.â
No, he doesnât.
Thatâs the problem.
And you keep flirtingâif it can even be called that, because you mostly babble about hating the drink you got and hating Dean and loving the manâs drink because Dean likes that one tooâand the manâs hands find their way to your lower back and thigh.
âWhy donât I help you forget about Dean?â He winks at you, and you shrug.
The world is mostly just blurred colors and lights now. Everything feels awfully light, in a way youâre not sure you like.
But you like forgetting about Dean more. So even though you want to tell this man that itâs impossible to forget about Dean, youâre also just lost enough to want help finding your way out.
âOkay.â You beam at him.
You make it to the parking lotâhis arm around your waist, herding you like a lost lambâbefore Dean ruins everything. He always ruins everything.
Thereâs a shout of your name, almost ripping through the hazy fog of your drunken mind. You were feet from the manâs car. Just a few more steps from having fun, which youâre bad at doing, but maybe if you practiced, Dean would like you more.
From the look on his face when you turn around, it mightâve actually made him like you less.
âIâve been looking everywhere for you.â He marches across the lot with a scowl, hands balled into fists and gaze fixed solely on you. âI almost made Sammy file a missing persons report-â
ââM not missing.â You stick your tongue out at him. ââM right here. Stupid.â
You mutter the last word under your breath, and Dean freezes. He blinks slowly, gaze raking over your body. Thatâs not fair. It makes you feel all warm and puddley. Your core floods with heat, and your knees get weak, and heâs get looking at you.
Dean takes a half-step forward, his voice dropping low and rough. âAre you drunk?â
âNo.â
Thereâs a larger gust of wind. Deanâs eyes gleam in the golden light of the parking lot. He looks a little like an angel. You trip standing up, then giggle when the man pulls you back up. Deanâs jaw drops, his brow knitting tight.
âYouâre fuckinâ wasted.â He mutters, shaking his head. âJesus, sweetheart- Câmon.â He steps forward, reaching out a hand. âLetâs go.â
âNuh uh.â You pout, shaking you head. âIâm not drunk-â
âYouâre standing like weâre on a freakinâ ship. Come on.â He flexes his hand, and you cross your arms over your chest.
He doesnât get to win. âIâm having fun.â
âWe can have fun back at the room-â
âThe lady said sheâs having fun.â The man next to you pulls you tighter into his side, fingers curling on your hip like a lock. âScrew off, pal. I got here first.â
And Dean recoils, looking at the man like heâs noticing him for the first time. You canât read his expression in the low light, but it seems angry. Or just annoyed. Or indifferent. His jaw looks sharp and clenched. You want to lick it.
âListen, bud.â Dean snaps, glaring down at the man. âThis ainât a who got here first thing. My girlâs drunk. Iâm takinâ her home, or Iâm punching you in the face.â
The man is silent for a moment. He and Dean glower at each other, and you frown between them. Thereâs something poking at your drink addled brain, but itâs spelling a word you canât read. All you can really figure out is that theyâre being weird.
âYou Dean?â The man asks.
Deanâs eyes narrow. His shoulders square, the way they do before heâs about to swing at a demon. âYeah. And?â
âNothinâ.â The man smirks. âJust⌠Thought youâd be God, based on how she was talkinâ about you. But,â he chuckles, tipping his chin. âYouâre just a little bitch.â
Deanâs jaw ticks. You donât need the lighting to figure out what heâs thinking now. You can almost feel it, rolling off of him in waves.
Heâs pissed.
He looks the man up and down, and if he throws a punch, you know he wonât be the one who goes down. Youâre drunk enough not to worry about the violence of it. All your useless thoughts can spin around is the idea of Dean fighting for you. Of his massive arms flexing as he knocks down the other manâwho, the longer your Dean stands in front of you, looks less and less appealingâand scoops you into his arms like the princess he mocks you with being. Then he can wrap his arm around your head and fuck you against the hood of his car, until youâre drooling all over his cock.
You giggle at nothing, a unignorable heat pooling between your legs. Deanâs attention snaps back over, and you beam at him.
Something in his gaze shifts. He lets out a slow breath, and stretches out a hand.
âLetâs go, princess.â He beckons with two crooked fingers, and you almost stumble forwards. âWe can watch whatever you want, alright? Iâll get you some of that ice cream you like, and- Sammy can watch with you, if you donât want me around. Just-â He sighs, running a hand over his face. âGet over here. Please.â
He sounds so tired. Tired and almost sad. Your feet move without your permission, and you reach to take his hand.
The man yanks you back, and you yelp.
âRemember what you told me, doll.â He drawls in your ear, loud enough for Dean to still hear. âRemember how he treats you.â
Dean scowls. âYou stay out of this-â
âHe doesnât care.â The man ignores him. âYou told me, he doesnât love you.â
Dean opens his mouth, something stricken flashing over his features. You feel a little sick.
âCâmon. I got you.â The man rubs your hip, smiling gently. âShow him what heâs missing. He can bitch about it, alone all night while you get fucked real good.â
Deanâs face is a shade of red youâve never seen before. He has an expression like someone just punched him in the gut.
And itâs not the fucking real good that steels you. Itâs the reminder that Dean wonât be alone. He has his secretary. And youâre allowed to have your random bar man, and thereâs nothing he can do about it.
Dean rasps your name. âCome here-â
âYou come here.â You snap, and itâs meant to be a sharp, killing blow that makes him sigh and give up.
If you were a little less drunk, you wouldâve known that was never going to work.
Deanâs throat bobs. He exhales like heâs going through the trials of Hercules, rather than arguing in a parking lot. He rubs his jaw, looks up to the sky like heâs praying, and chuckles. Itâs dry and flat, but so deep and rough. You shiver at the sound, and almost fall right into him again.
âAlright.â Dean mutters, shaking out his arm. âFine.â
He marches forward, clocks the man across the jaw, and throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It happens so fast your body is still catching up with it, by the time heâs halfway back to the car. You realize you should be thrashing and shouting when you hear the Impala door unlock. Your body doesnât seem to want to cooperate though. Deanâs back is warm, and his hand is resting near your ass, and itâs making you putty for him to play with.
He did it so fast. He didnât even break a sweat or give the man a chance to fight back, before he grabbed you. When he lowers you into shotgun, he does it so gently. Like even after getting on his nervous, youâre precious cargo. He brushes the hair from your face, hunched over as you settle into the bench.
You blink at him, still drunk and confused. Dean still has that strange look in his eyes, his lips parted as you just stare at each other. His hand lingers on your cheek. You lean into the touch, and his nostrils flare.
Across the parking lot, thereâs a roar of his name.
Dean sighs, and stands up. He walks around the hood of the car, slides into the driverâs seat, and starts the car. You watch his fingers move like a starved woman. You want him to put them in your mouth, and you almost tell him when thereâs a slam on his window.
The man is shouting at him, veins bulging and eyes bugging. He looks nothing like Dean now.
And Dean doesnât even flinch. Doesnât even look at him. He just puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the lot. If the man gives chase, you donât see. Youâre too busy staring at Dean.
The first half of the drive is silent. Low music plays on the radio, and you watch Dean in the moving light of the road. Long shadows and dim streetlamps make him look like he fell out of a dream. Your arms twitch to wrap around him. Your eyes are heavy, your head intoxicated by the rich, amber and smoke smell of his cologne. If you lay your head in his lap, you wonder if heâd shove you away.
âYou werenât actually gonna go with him.â Dean mutters suddenly, and you blink.
âHuh?â
âThat douchebag.â His fingers flex on the wheel. âYou werenât gonna fuck him.â
You frown. Useless, exhausted tears prick at your eyes. You donât even know where theyâre coming from. Just that you feel small, and youâre tired, and Deanâs dragging you back to the motel just so he can fuck another woman with peace of mind.
âHeâs not even your type-â
âYou donât know what my type is.â You grumble, sinking into your seat.
Dean huffs a laugh. âIâve seen what kinda guys you find hot on TV. He was ugly.â
âHe wasnât ugly-â
âYeah, he was.â
âYouâre ugly.â You snap, and Dean laughs. You get why. You didnât even convince yourself.
âOnly on the inside, sweetheart.â
Your lips wobbles. For some reason, that pushes the tears out of your eyes. You sink into the bench, wrapping into a tight little ball that Dean wonât be able to pry apart. You canât stop the tears, but he doesnât get to have more leverage.
Dean clears his throat. âAre you crying-â
âShut up.â You sniff, wiping your nose with your sleeve.
He murmurs your name, voice softer than before, and you lean against the window.
âShut up-â
âYouâre fuckinâ crying-â
âDean!â You glare at him through the blur of the tears. âJust- Leave me alone!â
Deanâs silent for a second. But only a second.
âDid he hurt you?â He grunts, something hot and angry lining his words. âBefore I got there, did that son of a bitch-â
âHe barely even touched me, you just- You fucking-â
âI what? What the hell did I do-â
âYou hate me!â You shout, and Dean goes horribly still.Â
âDonât be insane.â He mutters your name, glaring out at the road. âI donât hate you.â
You scoff, hugging your knees tight to your chest. âYes, you do. You hate me, and you- You never let me have any fun-â
âThat wasnât fun, that was a lawsuit.â
You donât even have a good comeback to that. Heâs probably right. It just makes you angrier.
You turn away from him all together, watching the trees blur past in the window. Youâre certain youâre going to be sick now. You close your eyes, the tears still flowing, and hide your face behind your hair and in your knees.
Dean sighs. His voice gets softer again.
âListen, youâre drunk, alright? Youâre gonna feel better in the morning-â
âNo.â Your words are muffled, but you know heâll still hear them. âI wonât.â
âYeah, you will. I get a million of these drunken⌠feelings.â He says the word in an oddly tight tone. âYou just gotta sleep them off.â
You laugh, wet and weak. âWhatever, Dean.â
âIâm trying to help-â
âNo, youâre not.â You hug yourself tighter. âYou just wanna get back to her.â
Heâs silent again. You can hear his fingers drumming on the wheel. Almost hear the frown in his voice when he finally speaks.
âWho the hell are you talking about.â
âYour secretary lady.â You grumble, bitter and tired.
âYou mean Katy?â
You grunt. âI hate her.â
âI- Princess, I sent her home like- Two hours ago.â He pauses. The air in the car feels oddly heavy. âMoment Sammy told me you were gone.â
You huff, but donât respond. You canât think of anything. You can barely understand what that means.
âYou hate her?â Deanâs voice is so quiet you almost miss it.
âMhm.âÂ
âYou barely even talked to her-â
âI donât care.â You mutter, rubbing away the tears on your cheeks. âI hate her.â
âWhy-â
ââM tired.â You pull your face out of your knees, and find Dean staring at you.
He clears his throat, and looks back to the road. You think youâre going to start sobbing again, when he stretches out an arm around your shoulder.
Neither of you say anything, when he slowly pulls you into his side. You havenât been this close to him in a while. Heâs just as warm as you remember. Youâre already half-asleep, just from a few seconds of his fingers tracing circles on your shoulder and your face pressed into his neck.
âI didnât like him that much either.â Dean mutters suddenly. âYour bar guy.â
You hum, nosing at his jaw. He smells good.
âI wish youâd tell me.â He adds. âWhen you were goinâ out. Iâd come with you-â
âI donât want you to come with me.â
Dean tenses. He doesnât pull away. âIâm fun at bars, sweetheart..â His voice is too casual. âWeâd have a good time-â
âYouâd have a good time.â You grumble. âIâd be alone.â
âI wouldnât- If we went out, I wouldnât ditch-â
âYes, you would.â You yawn, and youâre crying again, but itâs softer.
Even now, Dean makes everything easier.
You wish you could hate him more than you love him. You donât think youâre ever going to manage.
âYou hate me.â You whisper, sleep already pulling on the corners of your brain. ââS not fair.âÂ
Dean swallows. His fingers still on your arm. âWhy not?â
ââCause I-â
You cut yourself off with a yawn. Dean mutters your name, and you shake your head, burrowing further into his side. You need to be as close as possible. You need to sink something into him that he can never wipe away, the same way he did with you.
âI love you,â you mumble. âAnd you hate me. And- Itâs not fair, Dean.â You tremble, letting out a soft, pained breath. âNot fair.â
And sleep drags you under. But right before the world fades, you could swear you hear Deanâs low voice, and it floats through your dreams.
âI donât hate you, baby.â He murmurs. âI couldnât if I tried.â
Dean hasnât spoken to you since last night.
You get up in the morning with a migraine and shame burning your face. You remember all of it. Every painful, whiny moment. You acted like the lovesick, annoying girl he accuses you of being. You told him the thing you swore youâd never say aloud. Once Sam tried to make you admit it, and you dumped a glass of iced tea over his head. Youâd whimpered Deanâs name into your pillows while you touched yourself, and youâve told yourself to get it together in the bathroom mirror, but youâve never said it aloud.
And you just told.
You ruined everything.
He gives you meds and a glass of water to help the hangover, but he doesnât look you in the eyes. You pack up the rooms and hit the road, but he doesnât look in the rearview mirror to check on you even once. You bite the inside of your cheek and refuse to cry again. That will just make you seem more pathetic than you already are.
âWhatâs going on with you two.â Sam mutters when you stop at a gas station, hanging over your shoulder in the candy aisle.
âNothing-â
âDonât lie.â He gives you a flat look. âYouâre not even fighting, which means youâre fighting.â
You peer up at him with a flat expression, and he sighs.
âYou know what I mean. What the hell did he say to you.â
âHe didnât say anything.â
Sam mutters your name, and you grab a candy bar, flipping him off over your shoulder.
âJust drop it, okay?â
âNo! I canât drop it! I live with you guys, and- This is so much worse than when you were acting like you hated each other-â
âSam-â
âYou canât see his face while heâs driving.â Sam hisses, grabbing a pack of almonds. âHeâs either going to punch himself or cry, and thatâs gonna be a whole freakinâ thing. Just- Talk to him-â
âHe can talk to me.â You grab a pack of jerky. You canât help it. Dean must be hungry too, and despite all your common sense, you still love him so much the world is slipping out from under your feet.Â
Sam pleads with your name. You shake your head.
âPlease. Drop it.â
He examines you for a moment, then sighs. He agrees to drop it. It doesnât make anything better at all.
Because Deanâs not even being mean or overbearing or annoying. Heâs just silent. And Samâs right.
Itâs so much worse.
Normally by this point in the ride, youâve been fighting so much that Sam turns up the radio until you canât hear each other. Youâll poke his neck to annoy him, and heâll swat you like a fly before cornering you against the car when you stop for food. Youâll shove him and march into the diner. Heâll stomp after you and sit too close in the booth, making you press your thighs together with every mocking word. Heâll flirt with the waitress, and youâll daydream about throttling her every time she bats her eyes. Dean will keep your knees against each otherâs, while he gets her number, and youâll pour a bunch of salt over his pie when he goes to the bathroom.
Youâll shove at each other, until one of you snaps and stomps away. Youâll cry yourself to sleep that night, because he hates you, he hates you, he hates you.
But you donât even have any tears left, and Dean doesnât hate you.
He just canât stand to look at you, now that he knows you love him.
Sam gives you worried looks, while Dean glares silently at the road. His fingers drum on the wheel, and you hug yourself tight. He might not be looking at you, but you canât stop looking at him. If he asks you to leave, it will kill you. If he doesnât ask you, but never speaks to you again, youâll just wither away into nothing. But you canât be the one to break the silence. Youâll only make it worse.
You stop at a diner, and the waitress has the biggest boobs youâve ever seen and the kind of honeyed smile that usually makes Dean smirk.
Today he doesnât even look at her. You have to order for him, which makes the waitress glare at you, as if youâre responsible for him sulking so much he doesnât care about boobsâand you are, but she has no way to know thatâand you give her a tight smile.
Dean doesnât thank you for the food, but he looks at you for the first time all day. You blink at him, biting back the pout threatening your lips. Youâre not going to break here, in broad daylight, with Sam right there.
Dean lets out a slow exhale through his nose, and looks back to his food. You blink away the useless sting behind your eyes, biting your inner cheek until itâs swollen. Sam gives you a pitying look. You shoot him a glare.
âHe still sat next to you.â Sam mutters while Dean checks you into a motel, that night. âWhatever happened, heâs not that mad at you-â
âSammy!â Dean calls from the desk. âThe lady needs our IDs!â
Sam sighs, going through his pockets as he walks over.
Deanâs gaze meets yours, and you flush. You canât read the expression on his face, and you fucking hate it. You thought you knew all his expression. You thought you knew him. You thought heâd at least have the guts to turn you down like a man.
Instead his tongue flicks over his lips, and he rips his gaze back to the desk attendant. You hate her. You hate him. You love him. Your head hurts, overflowing with too many thoughts that you canât even pick them apart. You want to scream and cry and run and sink into the floor. Itâs not fair of him, to do this to you. Youâre going to be sick. You want to drown your sorrows in as many drinks as you can find.
You settle for curling into your bed, hiding your face in the pillows, and crying until your body is limp and your throat is sore. He knows you love him. He hates you. Heâs never going to look at you again, and youâre going to turn into a ghost. An evil, angry ghost. One of the ghosts that he has to kill. Then heâs going to kill you, and youâre going to turn into a demon, then youâre going to start the apocalypse again, and everyone ever is going to die because you told Dean you love him.
You cry until you can barely breathe, then a little while after. It was silent. There was no way Sam and Dean would hear it, even through the door joining your rooms.
But thereâs a creak, and you sniff, turning your head just enough that Sam will be able to hear you.
âIâm fine, Sam-â
âNot Sam.â Dean mutters, and you freeze.
You donât move. You donât dare. Dean clears his throat, and you hear him shifting on his feet. Heâs close enough to be fully through the door. You hear it close behind him, and bunch the sheets in your arms.
âI- Uh- I was hopinâ we could talk?â
You still donât move. Dean coughs. His voice is even rougher than usual. Normally, if you had the brainpower, youâd be worried about him.
âCan you look at me?â
You scowl at the pillow in your face. âNo.â
Dean mutters your name, and you cut him off with short words.
âGo away, Dean.â
âNo, we need to- I got some shit to say, alright-â
âI donât care.â
âTrust me, princess, youâre gonna care about this-â
âStop calling me that!â The words rip from your throat, sudden and broken.
You flip over, moving to your knees, and Dean stumbles back like you punched him. His face is red, and there are bags under his eyes. Heâs still handsome.
Asshole.
âI-â
âShut up.â You hiss, narrowing your eyes at his slack expression. âStop- Stop calling me princess and sweetheart and- and acting like you fucking care about me! Itâs fucking cruel, Dean, it was a dick move before and now- Now you know.â Your voice cracks. You canât even say it again. âNow you know, alright? You know what I- How I am! And Iâm sorry, okay? I shouldnât have told you, but I was drunk, and I- I was tired, and you were being nice and youâre never nice to me-â
Dean opens his mouth, and you chuck a pillow right at his chest.
âNo.â You spit, pushing up higher on your knees. âNo, you donât get to talk now. I donât want to hear it, I donât need- You donât have to tell me! I get it, I know what youâre going to say!â You thought you were out of tears. You were wrong. âIâm just a stupid little girl, and you see me like a fucking sister or whatever, I donât know what Iâm talking about and I donât know how I feel and you- Youâd never-â You choke on your own words. âYouâd never feel-â
He moves quickly. You donât even get the chance to throw another pillow.
Dean grabs your face between his hands, pulling right up into his. Dean kisses you, and your sharp words dissolve into a surprised sound, then a tiny moan.
His mouth is demanding. Your lips are already parted, and when the moan pushes its way up from your chest, Dean pushes his tongue over yours with a grunt. Itâs a messy and desperate, noses bumping and spit mixing. You try and shove back, but Dean just pushes further over you, and you dissolve into his touch.Â
Youâre panting, when he pulls away. He keeps his hands firmly planted, his thumb tracing the swollen line of your lips and his shoulders heaving. His fingers are tangled in your hair. You feel small under his gaze, but not in the painful, ignored way like before. Itâs like youâre being shielded. Like heâs trying to protect you from your own, spiraling thoughts by sucking them out of your face.
Itâs working. You stare at him with an open awe you can feel in your chest, bubbling and light.
He kissed you.
His lips were soft and chapped in the best way, and he was even better at kissing than you imagined. He tasted a little sugary from the pie he had with dinner, and something richer that was just Dean. His touch on your is almost reverent, and you want to suck on his thumb to see if it tastes as good as his lips. You want to suck on every part of him. For science. You want, you want, you want. Dean kissed you, and now all you can feelâthundering through your bloodstreamâis want.
He murmurs your name, scanning over your slack features. Your eyes flutter. His throat bobs.
âIâm gonna talk now.â He says, and you nod.
You should be shoving or fighting him, but heâs looking at you like you matter. And youâre far too tired to bother with anything but tears or pleas for more kisses right now.
âI thought-â He shakes his head, huffing a low, dry laugh. âI thought you hated me.â
âI donât-â
âYeah, I got that now.â He gives you an amused, tired look. âBut- Sweetheart, you called me a seductive manwhore last week.â
Your face burns a little. Heâd been flirting with another waitress, at another diner. Youâd wanted to slit her throat.
âSeductive is a compliment.â You mumble weakly, dropping your gaze to his chest. Dean chuckles.
âFrom where I was sittinâ, it felt like you wanted to kill me.â
 You shake your head, the movement small between his hands. âYou looked like you wanted me to fuck off. You always looked like you wanted me to fuck off-â
âNo.â His grip tightens, and your attention shoots back up.
And you think you understand that expression. Itâs heavy, and you have seen it before. But itâs always been a dull glint in his eyes, before he looks away.
Longing.
âDeanâŚâ You whisper, and he leans down, pressing his brow to yours.
âI never want you to fuck off.â He mutters. âNever. Please- Donât.â
His voice breaks. You reach up to grab his wrists, and he squeezes his eyes shut.
âI know I ainât perfect. I know Iâm old, and a dick, and I donât got much to offer-â
âI like what you have to offer.â You whisper. His brow knits tighter. âI always liked it.â
Dean chuckles. âYou shot me down. First time I offered it.â
âYou wanted a hookup, I- I canât do that-â
âI couldnât either.â He looks at you under hooded eyes. âNot with you.â
You press your lips in a thin line, years of anger and sparring fading into a blur of a dull, bruising ache. He was always a wound you refused to heal. If he cuts you open any wider, you donât think youâre going to have the option anymore.
âYou didnât seem interested.â Dean rasps. âYou started- Lookinâ at me all weird and calling me names and-â
âI loved you.â You say it before you can think. Dean lets out a sharp breath, his weight pressing further down.
âBut- I- You too.â He winces, like he hates the words. âI didnât- It was never- Son of a bitch-â
He looks like itâs paining him to try and say it. And you know. You know he canât, because he doesnât even say it to Sam.Â
But he looks like heâs going to cry. Dean never cries.
He means it. The thing you never let yourself dream of, he means it.
âI- You just- I wanted shit, and you seemed like you wanted nothinâ to do with me, so I-â
You move carefully, tugging that collar of his shirt down into the kiss. Dean goes rigid for a single, horrible second.
Then he almost melts.
His fingers dig into your skin like he canât bear to let go. His body collapses over yours, his kisses going from the soft ones you started to fast and desperate. He kisses you like heâs trying to leave a mark, and you meet him with every bit off passion.
Dean folds you down, until youâre flat on the mattress. Your legs fly up to wrap around his torso, and he grabs one of your hands, tangling your fingers together. The kisses turn slow. A little more certain and controlled, Dean sucking on your lower lip before kissing the corner of your mouth, then your upper lip. You smile into the kiss, and a broken sound rumbles from his chest.
He pins your hands next to your head, squeezing once before he breaks away. He looks wrecked. He stares at you like youâre the most beautiful thing heâs ever seen, and your head buzzes, nice and clear of what ifs.
All that matters right now is Dean above you, and the electric heat in your body. How his hand fits so perfectly in yours. How your bodies are already molding together, and youâre both still fully clothed.
âYou deserve better, baby.â He mutters, and you almost laugh.
Thereâs nothing better. Thereâs Dean, glorious and unreachable, and thereâs everyone else.
âNo.â You whisper, beaming up at him. âI donât.â
Deanâs throat bobs. He lowers himself down slowly, pressing his lips slowly over yours. Like heâs still not fully sure. You hum happily into the kiss, and he takes the cue easily.
You lose yourself in him quickly. His lazy, passionate kisses and his hands, slowly tracing over your body. He starts with light touches near your hips and waist, every brush of his fingers making you shiver. You arch into it, when his thumb grazes the bare skin of your midriff. Dean groans, testing the waters with another slow graze of his fingers.
âDeeeanâŚâ You breathe against his lips, and he grunts.
âYouâre so soft.â He mutters, slipping his hand under your shirt. âSo fuckinâ reactive and soft.â
You whimper, heels digging into his back as he teases his fingers up your spine. âDonât- Donât tease-â
âNot teasinâ.â He nips at the corner of your mouth. âJust sayinâ things that are true, baby. Not my fault they make you all stupid.â
Your breath hitches, your head tipping back as your legs spread slightly. Dean hums, interest flashing in his gaze. He noticed. Of course he did. He notices everything.
âYou like that?â He drawls, kissing over your cheek, then down your neck. âYou like beinâ called baby? Or called stupid.â
His hand drifts up your side, until his thumb is grazing under your breast. The sensation, combined with his dirty words, makes your hips roll. A dizzy, pleased sigh escapes your lips. Dean chuckles, rubbing his thumb in a tight circle. His lips graze a sensitive spot on your neck, and your hips roll again.
âI think you like both.â He murmurs, squeezing your hand. âDirty girl, bet youâre already wet for me.â
You whimper, the sound turning to a sharp gasp when Dean shoves his knee right between your thighs. You buck off the bed at the sudden pressure, eyes glazing and mouth hanging open.
Dean sucks on that sensitive spot, and your whole body shivers. You canât stand to not move, not with the heat of him all around you. His thumb drags up, brushing over your nipple right as his tongue flicks against your skin. You start to mindlessly grind against his knee, chasing just a little bit more friction. Dean chuckle, biting softly at your neck before bullying his knee further against your clothed cunt.
âThatâs it.â He growls in your ear. âMessy fuckinâ girl, already humping my leg. You need it that bad, sweetheart? Canât even wait for me?â
âI- Iâm sorry-â You whine, trying to stop your body from moving.
It doesnât seem to want to cooperate. Dean slips his hand from under your shirt and grabs your jaw, forcing your gaze onto his, and his attention just fuels the wildfire under your skin. You need him, and form of him you can get. You need him harsh and all over your body, until thereâs are marks you wonât be able to wash away in the morning. You need him to claim you so deeply neither of you can back out.
Dean watches you with a gentle, but sharp awe. Like heâs trying to memorize the scene below him, that youâre sure is quiet a sight. You fucking his leg like a dog in heat, your adoration and love finally allowed to pour all over your face.
âNeed you,â you breathe out, grabbing his wrist. âNeed you so bad, Dean.â
A low rumble leaves his chest, his eyes getting darker with every tiny moan from your lips. His attention is almost too much. You try and turn your face into the sheets, but he tugs it back with barely a flick of his wrist.
âDean, please-â
âLook at me.â He taps your cheek with one finger, slamming his knee forward.
Your glossy, tear-stained eyes dart to his, and he smirks. Itâs soft, but dangerous. He smiles down at you, and another breath of his name escapes your lips.
âWhat do you want, sweet girl?â He murmurs, squeezing your hand. âUse your words.â
It takes you a second to remember how. âYou,â you breathe out, and Deanâs jaw ticks. âWant you, Dean, always wanted you-â
âI know, baby,â he coos, leaning slowly down. Your noses bump, and you whimper, closing your eyes. âYou want me so bad it hurts, donât you. Bet your little pussy is fuckinâ calling my name, begging me to stuff her up.â
âYes,â you nod, bobbleheaded and dizzy. âOh my god, yes-â
âBut how.â His voice turns stern, the heat of his breath making you shiver. âDo you want me? Soft? Or,â he pushes your further down onto his knee, and your eyes roll a little back. âHard?â
Dean drags his thumb over your lips, squeezing your cheeks into a tiny pout. You try to keep fucking his knee, but heâs got you pinned so hard against it that you canât move. Youâre trapped in a cruel kind of heaven, with everything right on the brink of falling, and Dean holding you over the edge by the nape of your neck.
âHard,â you whisper, dragging your eyes open to meet his. He needs to see it. How bad you want him. âWanna- Ohh-â Your lashes flutter, as Dean starts to slowly grind his knee against your core. âWanna feel you. All of you. Donât- Donât hold back.â
His grip on your jaw tightens. His voice drops a full octave. âBaby, are you-â
âYes.â You smile at him, already a little drunk on his everything. âI trust you.â
And that seems to be what gets him. Dean blinks at you for a second, the façade of pure control slipping. You know itâs a game, and that when youâre done heâs going to coddle you like a princess. But youâre not sure he knew you knew. Not sure he understood that, even when you thought he hated you, you wouldâve placed your life in his hands without even a beat of hesitation.
Dean leans down, and kisses you slowly. Sweetly. His hand pulls from yours, and he wraps his arm around your lower back. His fingers tickle your sides a little, teasing the side of your breast, and you giggle. Dean grunts, pushing you further into the mattress. It just makes you giggle more.
âSomethinâ funny?â He mutters, and you can hear it again. Heâs back in this. It sends a shivering thrill through your body.
You need more. And you shake your head, trying to test just how much it takes him to snap.
âYouâre laughinâ like somethingâs funny.â Dean leans back up, glaring down at your lovedrunk, giddy expression.
Thereâs a dangerous glint in his eyes.
Youâre about to be fucked into next week.
âLook at you.â He mutters, palming at your breast through your shirt. You gasp, arching into the touch, and Dean chuckles. âYouâd do anything I told you, huh. Just to make me fuck you.â
You shake your head, and Dean chuckles.
âDonât lie, princess. Good girls donât lie to me.â
Your breath catches. Your thighs press around Deanâs knee, the grind of your hips short and uncontrolled. He lets you writhe below him, smirking at the pants that escape your lips.
âDoes it hurt?â he coos, smearing some spit over your cheek. âYour pussy aching, baby girl? Already canât take it?â
âN- No.â You choke out. âI can take it-â
âDoesnât seem like you can.â He mutters, scanning over your limp body. âIâm not even touchinâ you and youâre about to cum. Canât believe youâre that fucking easy.â
You whimper, shaking your head. âI- Iâm not easy-â
âYeah?â Dean mocks. âHow many other guys you fucked?â
âTwo. Just two-â
âThey make you feel like this?â
âNo- Never-â
âDamn right. They donât.â Dean grunts. âYouâre mine, princess. My fuckinâ girl.â
You whimper, heat rushing through you at the possession in his voice. You are his. He has no idea, how completely and totally his you are.
âSay youâre mine.â Dean orders, and you nod.
âYours. All yours, Dean, Iâm- Fuuuck-â
He pinches your nipple rolling it between two fingers. Your hips try to buck off the bed, but heâs pinned you down too well.
âFuck- Dean- You canât just-â
You moan, and he chuckles.
âOh, baby.â He leans back down, brushing a featherlight kiss over your lips. âI can do whatever the fuck I want.â
Dean nips on your lower lip, then rises back up, patting your cheek.
âOpen.â
You do, without a thought. He chuckles, leans down, and spits right into your swollen lips.
âSwallow.â He grunts, and you obey.
You lick your lips for good measure. Just to see how heâll react. His mouth falls a little open, a deep, possessive sound rumbling chest.
âLook at you,â he murmurs, almost fully to himself. âSo fuckinâ eager. You ready to listen, princess?â
âYeah,â you whisper, and add for good measure. âPlease.â
 Deanâs lips twitch. âBegginâ and I donât even have you naked yet. We should fix that.â
âFix what-â
âStand up.â Dean drags you upright with steady, but firm hands.
You follow his lead, letting him move you off the mattress and onto shaking legs. He keeps you between his spread knees, smirking up at your confused expression. Heâs got one hand, steadily rubbing the back of your thigh.
âStrip.â He orders, and your cheeks burn.
âDean-â
You cut yourself off, when he just raises his brows. God, if he wasnât begging you for attention fifteen minutes ago, youâd be putting up more of a fight. Just for the show of it. To prove that youâre perfectly capable of thinking for yourself. That you donât need him at all.
But you think he knows that. And for once, you donât want to have to think at all.
You peel off your clothing slowly, burning under Deanâs gaze. Heâs tracking every movement, dragging over every bare inch of skin. Your top goes first, and his hands fly right up to palm your breasts. His hand is big and warm, and you bite back a tiny moan.
Dean smirks, leaning slowly forward to trail open, wet kisses over the valley of your breasts. You weave your fingers through his hair, your breath stuttering. You fumble with your bottoms. Itâs a little hard to focus, with his tongue swirling around your sensitive, peaked nipple.
âShit- Dean-â You take a deep breath, tugging at his soft, short locks. âThatâs- Mmmm-â
He sucks lightly, and you lean fully over his chest. He chuckles, flicking his tongue back and forth, and all you can think of is that sinful mouth against your core.
âI- I canât-â
âYes, you can.â He kisses your nipple, before switching to the neglected one. âFor me.â
You swallow, grabbing at the hem of your bottoms and tugging them down. Dean grabs a handful of your ass, slapping it once before dipping his fingers down between your thighs. You collapse over him with a weak noise, and Dean just laughs. The shame in how quickly heâs unraveling you, how wet you know you are, it just makes you ache for him more. Heâs got you, needy and in the palm of his hand. He knows it. And still, he touches you like heâs been waiting to his whole life.
âThatâs my girl.â He mutters. âSon of a bitch, youâre so fuckinâ wet. You been walkinâ around like this? Waiting to get bent over and turned into my little cockslut.â
âYe- Yes.â You press your face into his hair, nails scratching at his neck. âOh my god, Deean-â
 âYeah. Thatâs right.â Dean hums as you grind down onto his fingers, teasing between the lips of your pussy. âBarely even fuckinâ touching you, and youâre soaking my hands. Jesus,â he laughs, the sound vibrating against your chest. âYouâre getting wetter every time I talk.â
You keen, when the tip of his forefinger grazes your clit. Itâs like being struck by lightning, making your whole body rush with pleasure and your pussy clench around nothing. He flicks it, just that once, then pulls away. You hug his head tighter, begging between your every moan.
Dean doesnât budge. He rubs over your pussy without touching your clit again, muttering dirty words against your skin.
âLook at you,â he kisses your shoulder. âMy pretty fuckinâ girl.â
âDean-â
âCome on.â He slaps your ass again, and your knees give a little. âLike I couldnât make you cum just from talkinâ to you.â
You flush, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulls you fully into his lap. Dean pauses, at the way you shiver, and pulls back. You try to avoid his gaze, but he isnât having it. He grabs your jaw and forces your gaze back to his, eyes gleaming and playful.
âOh, I could, couldnât I.â He smirks. âYouâd cum for me just sittinâ here, letting me call you names.â
âNo.â Your protest is short. Weak. Dean looks at you like heâs just pulled the sweetest bunny into his trap, and he wants to eat you alive.
He pulls you down for one of those kisses thatâs too slow and sweet. Itâs almost mocking, with how his cock is straining against his jeans, pressing into your thigh. You dissolve into it, lowering your guard against your better judgement. Dean squeezes your ass, rubbing where heâd spanked before. Your knees are jelly, your core pressed right against his denim-clad bulge.
Jesus, he must be massive. Just the idea makes you shiver, and Dean smiles against your lips.
âYouâre beinâ so patient,â he coos, massaging your hips. âYou trust me, donât you? You know Iâm gonna fuck you real good.â
You hum an agreement, smiling from the praise. Dean combs his fingers through your hair, sucking on your lower lips before pulling slightly back.
âYouâre ready, arenât you? I could fuck you right now and youâd take me like I was lubed up.â
You whimper, and Dean pushes you further onto his bulge.
âYou gonna let me own you, sweet girl? Let me make you the dirty fuckinâ cumslut you wanna be.â
âDeaan-â You gasp weakly. âDonât be mean-â
âWhy?â He kisses your cheek. âYou like it. Youâre the one who said you wanted it, baby. And fuckinâ gush,â he runs his hand between your thighs. âEvery fuckinâ time I call you my dirty little girl.â
Heâs right. Your pussy clenches, arousal dripping down your thighs. Dean laughs, manhandling you to stay upright as moves fully onto the mattress and lies flat on his back. You stare at him for a second, unable to move with his hold on your hips, but unsure what to do with yourself. Youâre straddling him, watching with an open mouth as he pulls off his shirt and settles fully into the pillow. His cock is pushed right against your pussy. You grind down, and he hisses.
âNot yet.â He mutters at your pout. âNeed to taste that sweet pussy. Câmere.â
He beckons, and your mouth falls open when you realize what he means.
âDean, I canât- Youâre going to suffocate-â
âNobel death.â He grins, and you scowl.
âI donât want you to die the first time we have sex.â
âFirst time?â He wiggles his brows. âYouâre gonna let me come back for seconds?â
âDean, Iâm serious-â
âSo am I, can we do an all you can eat kinda situation-â
âDean Winchester.â You shove his chest, and the idiot just laughs. âIâm not- Iâm not doing that. I donât want to hurt you, thatâs- Iâm not-â
âHey.â Dean grabs your hand, squeezing it gently. You meet his gaze, and itâs a million times softer than before. âItâs okay. This ainât gonna hurt me, I swear, but if you just donât wanna, I have a lotta other ways to make us both feel good.â
He drags his thumb over your knuckles, and you take a deep breath. You hadnât realized it. You were about to cry again.
You peer at Dean through your lashes, and he offers you a boyish, gentle smile.
âPromise it wonât hurt you?â You whisper, and he nods.
âSwear on your life.â
You nod, slowly and carefully. Dean opens his mouthâprobably about to ask if youâre sureâbut youâre already crawling up his chest. Â
He smiles, rubbing your thighs as you settle them on either side of his head. You take a deep breath, your hands fidgeting and unsure where to rest. Dean grabs them and guides them into his hair, before kissing the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches, and you almost collapse straight over him.
He laughs, digging his dull nails into your ass. âSweetheart, point of this is you sitting on my face.â
âI- I am-â
âYouâre hovering. That ainât sittinâ.â
âI donât want to crush you-â
âYou wonât.â He sighs, kissing the opposite thigh. âI got you, right?â
You nod. He trails the kisses upwards, close to where youâre sure youâre dripping on his beard. His eyes never leave yours.
âYou trust me?â He rasps, warm breath fanning over your pussy.
âOf- Of course I trust you-â
âGood.â Dean kisses your clit, sloppy and using his tongue to flick the little button back and forth.
You almost shriek, the sensation overwhelming. You squirm, unsure if youâre trying to get closer or wiggle away. Dean makes the choice for you.
âHold on.â He grunts, right before yanking you right down onto his face.
And oh.
Oh god.
Youâve been eaten out before. Even by people who were good at it. Who enjoyed it. You came before, and walked away with no complaints.
Compared to this, they might as well have just spat on it and walked away.
Dean eats you out like heâs on a personal mission for honor between your legs. Like he lost something in your pussy and heâs trying to shake it loose. His jaw works like heâs devouring the finest food of his life, his tongue dragging and pumping in and out of your sensitive opening. His nose is pressed right against your clit, and he moves it with his full face, rubbing and rubbing and rubbing.
âFuuck- Fuck!â You cry out, yanking on Deanâs hair. âDean- Oh- Oh my God-â
He moans, and the vibration makes it better and worse all at once. Youâre trembling, no way to escape it, no way to feel it less. Dean massages your ass as he works, keeping you pinned to his face, to the pleasure heâs slowly dragging out of your body.
You pull his hair again, and his time he smacks your ass with his moan. Your back arches. You have to grab the bed frame to stop yourself from collapsing.
âDean- Deeaaan-â
You chant the word like a prayer. Itâs all you can remember. The infernal man below you laughs, and you push down harder into his wet, open mouth. He grunts, and doubles his efforts. His tongue traces around your pussy before shoving back into your tight cunt, and you clench around him with a whimper.
He tightens his grip on your hips, dragging them slowly back and forth. Guiding you into fucking his face. You follow his rhythm, and swear you can feel him everywhere in your body. Your nerves light up, with every stroke of his tongue and bump of his nose on your clit. Your mouth hangs open, and you pant as you try to hold off your orgasm, building up and up and up in your core.
One of his hands disappears from your body. Youâre too lost in his mouth below you to notice, until you hear it.
The sound of slapping skin, mixed with Deanâs increasing moans below you. You manage to find enough of a mind to look over your shoulder, and the sight shoots straight to your pussy, gushing on Deanâs face.
Heâs fisting his cock, thick and long and a little curved. He beats it into his hand, the head angry and red, coated in a thick layer of pre-cum. You twist back around looking down at his face between your thighs, and find him staring back.
Heâs been staring the whole time. Eyes dark and wrecked, fixed on you as you writhed and moaned above him. Heâs getting off to it. To having you like this.
Dean moansâfully, totally moansâinto your pussy, his eyes never leaving yours.
And you canât hold it off.
âDean- I- Iâm gonna-â
He squeezes your ass, moaning against your pussy again.
Permission.
You cum with a cry of his name, grinding down onto his face through your orgasm. Your vision goes white, your whole body shaking and seizing up as Deanâs tongue strokes you through it. He doesnât stop when youâre a trembling, dazed mess above him. He slowly shifts you backwards, cradling your body as sits up, forcing your back into the sheets, between his legs.
He kisses your clit gently, eyes shining on your unfocused, glossy ones.
âTaste better than I imagined.â He murmurs, slowly moving you further up the bed. âAnd trust me, baby. I lost a whole lotta sleep imagining.â
You swallow, eyes darting to his still hard cock. Dean follows your hungry gaze, then laughs, angling it to rub between the lips of your pussy.
âYouâre really that needy, huh.â He teases. âNot enough for just my mouth. Gotta have my cock, too.â
You hum, too lost in the feeling to even protest. Youâre flat on your back, legs hiked up in the air and over Deanâs shoulder, fully exposing your poor, swollen pussy to him. He slides his cock right between the slick lips, the tip bumping your clit. You pout up at Dean, spreading your legs wider to try and urge him on. He raises his brows, pausing with his cock pressed over your clit.
âAlready too fucked out to talk?â
You nod, and pride and worry mix in his eyes.
âBaby, if you need me to take it easy-â
You shake your head frantically. He promised no holding back. You want to be sore from him in the morning.
Dean sighs, lowering your legs so he can lean over your face. You glare at him, grinding your hips up against him. He pins you back to the bed with a single hand sprawled on your abdomen and a stern look.
âThereâs gonna be more time for it to be rough.â He murmurs. âI been plenty mean tonight. And I love it, sweetheart, I do, but Iâm gonna love anything-â
âDean.â You push out, your voice wrecked and hoarse. âHard. Please.â
âAre you-â
You push up on weak elbows, capturing his mouth against yours. Dean leans down, kissing you with every bit of adoration and softness heâs about to rip away for the sake of pleasure. You smile against the kiss, boneless and happy, and Dean grunts.Â
âAlright.â He mutters, the darkness in his voice sending a chill down your spine. âYou get what you ask for, baby girl.â
Yes.
Youâd say it, if he hadnât already stolen most of the words from your body. And you thought that it was bad before.
Dean slowly shoves himself into your dripping cunt, and you canât remember your own fucking name.
Heâs big. So big youâre not sure how youâre fitting him. His hand on your abdomen pushes you deeper into the mattress, forcing you to take every thick, veiny inch of him. You whimper, and the sound gets swallowed by Deanâs lips.
âFeel that?â He hisses, tone harsh in the way that sends a thrill to your core. âFeel my cock, filling up your tight little pussy?â
You nod, mouth hanging open. Dean bottoms out with a grunt, pulling your hips roughly up to let him hit a deeper angle. You mewl, eyes rolling back at the burning, perfect stretch of him.
âThatâs right.â He mutters, rutting into your wet, hot channel. âThis is what you fuckinâ begged for, princess. To be a brainless little cockslut. You canât even talk right now, can you? Just gonna lay there and look pretty while I do all the work?â
Tears prick at your eyes. Youâre so full you almost donât think you can handle it.
Dean isnât going to give you much of a choice.
âDamn right you are.â He mutters to himself, dragging almost fully out of you before slamming back in, knocking the air from your lungs.
You sob with pleasure, reaching up to grab at his face. Dean kisses your wrist, repeating the motion with an even harsher thrust than before.
âThatâs it.â He grunts, pushing over your as he finds a brutal pace. âThatâs my girl. Fit me like a glove, sweetheart. Tightest fuckinâ pussy Iâve ever fucked, so good for me, so fuckinâ good-â
Dean groans, crashing his lips over yours. You wrap your arms around him, holding on for dear life as he fucks stars behind your eyes and lightning through your body. If you werenât ruined for him before, you are now. There isnât another man in the world, who could reduce you to such a sobbing, wrecked mess while fucking you like a doll, then kiss all over your face like youâre the most important thing in the world.
Heâs handling your body like it only exists for him to fuck. Grabbing your hips and breasts like theyâre toys, positioning in the best way for him to hit you deeper. So deep heâs finding burning, pleasurable spots in you that you hadnât known existed before, that make your whole body light up with pleasure. You can feel him in your throat, though every single inch of you, his muscles flexing and chest heaving and cock drilling into you until your pussy is drooling and heâs just sliding in and out.
But he kisses you like heâs a soldier being sent off to war. Rough and desperate, but loving. With all the fervor of a man whoâs trying to something both of you have lost the words for. You return his every kiss, and his thrusts get sharper. Deeper.
You make sounds that are supposed to be his name. The room fills with the obscene sound of his cock, pounding into your cunt. You tip your head back and he starts to bite and suck on your throat, like he really canât find enough of you to worship.
âShit, baby-â He presses his nose against your jaw, voice cracking as the bed creaks beneath you both. âGonna- Gonna fuckinâ- Whereâd you want it-â
You grab his shoulders, yanking him fully down. Dean groans, doubling over and pressing his mouth back over yours.
âCome with me, sweetheart, câmon- Milk my fuckinâ cock-â
His thumb slips between your bodies, rubbing your clit in tight, unforgiving circles. You scream silently, as your orgasm hits you like a train. Dean fucks you through it, moaning your name as he chases his own release. White hot cum paints your inner walls, and Dean fucks it back into you with rough grunts and shorter thrusts.
You think you might be floating. Youâve never been this stuffed up, this warm. All the mocking and harshness from Dean is gone, replaced by worshipful hands that caress your face and gentle kisses over every spot he played with. Neither of you seem ready to know. You know you arenât at all, and Deanâs curled over you like a very heavy blanket.
You rub his back, smiling up at the ceiling. Itâs quiet. Youâd like to stay here for a while. Maybe forever.
Dean rises over you, still not pulling out. His eyes are glazed, his expression wrecked. You reach up to cup his cheek, and he leans into the touch.
âMy girl.â He mutters, and even if he doesnât say it like one, you know itâs a question.
âYour girl.â You whisper.
Youâve never seen him smile so wide, than before he leans back down to kiss you again.
And if you make him smile like that for the rest of your life, then you know youâve done something right.
âŚEnd note: the good thing about writing these fics is that it's fun. the bad thing is that i've set my standards WAY too high. âŚ
âŚIf you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3âŚ
âŚBuy me a coffee!âď¸ (and get early access!)âŚ
âŚTaglist (Fill out this form to be added!)âŚ
Holy shoulders woof woof BARK
Trying to write a fic about Ben but he is just so canonically awful đđŤ I donât want to lobotomise his character either

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Me daydreaming in class about domesticating a grumpy old war criminal
Is this a safe space to admit I hate this f!ck boy middle part sm
this is who i imagine lana del rey sings about
Just thinking about how Jensen probably had his beard dyed to cover his greys very regularly while playing Soldier Boy.
look out for me
âŚRead on aO3! - Masterlist - Soldier Boy MasterlistâŚ
âŚsummary: after being woken up, soldier boy found a woman, promised he'd never leave her, then did. two years later, he's back and looking for one thing only. you.âŚ
âŚwarnings/tags: Soldier Boy x female!reader, no use of y/n, no description of reader, age gap (he's a hundred, it's to be expected), angst, softer!ben, canon divergance, pining, some plot to get to the smut (posessiveness, some spanking, dirty talk, teasing, praise and degredation kink, dom!Ben, fingering, begging, manhandling, nipple play, pussy slapping, fingering, oral f!reciving, edging, creampie, big dick ben, overstimulation, body worship, rough sex, just complete debauchery, dumbification, dacryphilia, finger sucking, squirting), love confessions, fluffâŚ
âŚwc: 11.1kâŚ
âŚauthor's note: made myself start drooling with this one. enjoy!âŚ
You had a secret. And you kept it buried in the deepest, most sacred corner of your heart. Not out of shame.
Out of survival.
Itâs best to keep your head down, in a world like this one. Supes patrol the streets, and people who are a little too loud and unhappy get sent to their death. Vought says itâs just to be corrected, but you know. Everyone knows.
Theyâve just all learned how to whisper about it.
And youâre braver than you wanted to be. You do more than you should be doing, when the most anyone should be worrying about is waking up in their bed the next morning. But thereâs the teenage girl who lives down the hall from you, who got loud about hating Homelander in school, and almost got taken because of it. You helped her get out, and lied to the face of the people who showed up to find her.
You lied with a smile, too.Â
He wouldâve found that amusing. He wouldâve teased you about acing so cool and collected, right up until you were staring down the barrel of a gun. There hadnât been a trip of your heartbeat, or stumble in your breath. Lives depended on you being able to do this.
And they depended on you being able to keep your head down.
Youâd gotten good at it. Before him, it had been your job to keep calm and collected. Doctors couldnât be panicking and crying over everything, or nothing would ever get done.
âWhat about when somethingâs real fucking gross and sticky?â He used to ask you. âYou allowed to cry then?â
Youâd smiled at the dishes in your hands. âWould you cry over something gross and sticky?â
âNo, because Iâm not a-â
âFucking pussy.â
Youâd dropped your voice to mock his, your smile becoming stupid and ditzy as the chair had scraped on the floor behind you. Riling him up was too easy. And if he didnât want you to keep poking all his old, shiny buttons, he shouldnât make it so damn fun.
âYou got a mouth on you, doll.â Ben had muttered in your ear, arms wrapping around your stomach.
âHm.â You hadnât stopped washing the dishes. Heâd rip them away from you soon, you might as well focus on what you can.
âHm? All you got to say is hm?â
âI think you like my mouth.â Youâd swayed on your feet, shrugging lazily.
Benâs arms had tightened around you. âI like somethinâ about your mouth.â
âYou like all of it. You like me so much, you chose weed over me, you think Iâm better than weed-â
Your dishes had clattered into the sink. Ben spun you around, grabbed your wrists, and pinned them to the counter as he slammed his mouth of yours. Youâd made a happy sound, craning your neck to try and chase more, and heâd chuckled. Soft, light kisses had been trailed down your jaw and over your throat, landing on a spot that seemed to be permanently dark since youâd met him.
Heâd bitten at the skin, then sucked, letting his tongue flick slightly. Before him, you hadnât even known you were into that. Now you canât even graze the spot without your body getting fuzzy and confused. Like it knows heâs supposed to be there.
But heâs not.
âYouâre lucky I like you.â Ben had muttered. âAnd youâre not a genius to figure that out, I think Iâve made it real fucking clear.â
Youâd beamed at the air, wrapping an arm around his neck when he released one wrist. His massive hand had grabbed your waist, slipping fingers under the hem of the shirt. Youâd shivered, and leaned into his mouth.
Heâd been solid. Safe. And youâd been so foolishly sure that he was going to be there forever.
âYou have.â Youâd breathed.
And youâd really believed it.
But then heâd just⌠Left.
Youâd woken up the next morning, and heâd been off with William Butcher to deal with Homelander. Heâd failed, on both the being with William Butcher front and the deal with Homelander front. Theyâd said he had died. Youâd sunken into something like a ghost, wandering through the world without touching anything, passing through days like they were all just a veil to something else.
There were regrets. Not demanding that he stay. Not kicking him out the first time he ended up on your doorstep. Talking to him that first night at the corner store at all, because at least then your heart wouldâve still been beating instead of this hollow, gray husk.
But you also wouldnât have traded him for the world. The time had been fleeting. Only a few splatters of paint on what had previously been a clean, respectable life.
Youâd found out you liked being dirty. You liked all the color it came with, and youâd liked how Ben had held your hand through the whole thing. You donât know why he had. You donât even know why heâd liked you, why heâd bothered coming back over and over, why heâd decided that youâof all the many, more interesting, more carefree people in the worldâwere the one he wanted to share himself with.
âYou shouldnât eat those.â Youâd told the strange, handsome man at one in the morning.
Heâd looked at you like you were crazy. Youâd blinked innocently backâa faint bell in your head, ringing that he looked familiar, and you shouldâve listened to itâand heâd raised his brows.
âYou talking to me?â
âUm,â youâd looked around the aisle. âYeah? Who else would I be talking to.â
The man had grunted. His eyes hadnât left yours for a second, and heâd been staring like he was trying to peel you apart. Youâd started to feel all dizzy under the attentionâhe was very pretty, and pretty people shouldnât stare like thatâand shifted on your feet.
âThere are studies.â Youâd said lamely. âAbout those drinks. They give you cancer.â
âCancer?â The man had snorted. âDoll, Iâm not worried about fucking cancer-â
âYou should be. Itâs linked to pancreatic cancer, which is very- Fast spreading.â All your usual, well performed confidence had been wavering. Why had he been staring at you like that. âBecause of the pancreases function in, um, your body, itâs basically- Itâs fast spreading-â
âYou said that already.â
Youâd swallowed. His voice was very deep. âOh.â
His eyes had shined with something that, in the moment, you hadnât understood.
Now you know it to his form of affection. When heâd look at you and decided that you were real fucking cute, like a twitchy bunnyâhis wordsâand wanted to have more.
In the store, youâd hadnât been sure if he was going to murder you or make an indecent proposal.
He hated that movie. Youâd made him watch it, a few weeks later, and heâd been furious she chose the penniless sad sack. Youâd told him youâd chose him, if he was the penniless sad sack. Heâd grumbled that he hoped youâd have better survival instincts than that, but youâd been able to read him by now. Heâd liked that a lot, and you had the hickies after to prove it.
And heâd laughed.
That night, heâd just laughed.
âYou some kind of a fucking doctor?â
âYeah.â Youâd said, nervous and small. âI- I am.â
The man had blinked. Looked over you like he was seeing you for the first time, and leaned back as if the sight punched him in the face. Youâd still been wearing your scrubs. Later youâd tease him about not paying attention.
Heâd say heâd just been that enraptured by your beauty. Youâd flush, and tell him he was using that word wrong. Heâd say he didnât fucking care, and kiss you until you were stupid and giggling.
âWhatâs good?â Heâd jerked his head at the drinks, and you pointed to a different can a shelf over.
Heâd eyed you suspiciously, but grabbed it and stomped away. Youâd thought heâd be gone when you paid for your own food and walked to the parking lot. Instead heâd been waiting at the counter, watching you with that same, wearily curious expression.
âAre you going to stalk me to my car?â Youâd asked causally, careful not to look him in the eyes.
Heâd grunted. âIâm escorting you. Stalking makes me sound like Iâm some fucking creep-â
âYouâre a stranger whoâs going to follow me to my car. I should be calling 911.â
â911 couldnât stop me, sweetheart.â
Youâd paused, frowning at him. Heâd rolled his eyes, looking around the store like he expected a camera crew to pop out and tell him the whole thing was a prank.
âDonât call 911.â Heâd muttered.
âWhy shouldnât I.â
âCause Iâm not going to fucking hurt you, thatâs why-â
âAnd why should I trust that?â
Heâd blinked. That thought hadnât occurred to him at all.
âI swear I wonât.â
âPromises mean nothing.â
âMy promises mean something-â
âNot to me, they donât.â
Heâd stared at you. Youâd tipped up your chin, and held his gaze. You were not going to be murdered in a parking lot tonight. Youâd ordered new pants last night, and you wanted to be alive to see them.
The man had caved before you. He hadnât been happy about it, but youâd come to learn that he was never openly happy about anything. There was his genuine annoyance, and his fluffy annoyance. Where he didnât mean a single groan or eye roll or muttered curse.
He saved that second one for you. And he hated that you called it fluffy annoyance, because he wasnât âfucking fluffyâ. But youâd tell him that you liked him fluffy, as long as it was just yours. And heâd said he was just yours, and heâd promised, and youâd learned how to believe him.
âMy name is Ben.â Heâd told you, reaching into his jacket. âAnd if I try to hurt you, use this.â
And heâd handed you a fucking gun. The poor cashier that had been listening to all of this shrieked and ducked behind the counter. Youâd gaped at Ben, then smacked his arm.
âWhat the fuck-â
âYou canât just pull out a gun, are you crazy!â
âDonât call me crazy, Iâm trying to make you feel- Fucking better or whatever-â
âHow is a gun going to make me feel better, Iâm a doctor-â
âSo you can stitch me up after you shoot me, all the fucking better-â
âI am not going to shoot you-â
âBut you could, thatâs what the damn gun is for-â
âI donât want your gun, I just-â Youâd cut yourself, glancing at the shaking cashier. It had just been some high school kid. He didnât deserve to deal with this.
And even then, some part of you had known. Ben was a lot of things. Most of them werenât half as pretty as his face.
But he wasnât a liar. Heâd realty thought the gun would make you feel better.
Later, youâd learn that it had really only been meant to make you feel better. Literally. That if he had been intending to hurt youâwhich he hadnât, as he reminded you all the timeâthe gun wouldnât have done fucking shit to stop that. But heâd thought it would help you be less nervous. And as much as youâd punch his dumb, big chest after he told you, you had to admit that the plan hadâin a very roundabout wayâworked.
âCome on.â Youâd turned on your heels and walked out of the store.
Ben had followed.
And for a strange, priceless month, youâd known that if you looked over your shoulder, heâd be there. It had become a comfort. It had become the best thing in your life.
Then it had been gone.
Ben had left you, and the world had only gotten darker from there.
So you have all these regrets, that you pile on top of your secret. And they tell you to be more careful. You havenât been on a date since Ben, although you never even technically dated. Youâd never even fucked. It had been a lot of kisses and sharing a bed and wandering hands. Ben had asked. Heâd asked all the time, and always sighed dramatically when you said after. After he was done with Butcher. After he dealt with Homelander, he could have whatever he wanted from you.
It was already his for the taking, he just needed to reach it.
And now all of you sat on a high, dusted shelf, waiting for hands that would never reach it.
Now, youâre careful.
After that girl down the hall, there had been the couple on the side of the highway. Theyâd been trying to hide from Black Noir, but one of them had an infected cut and was getting a fever. Youâd treated it, then been on your way.
Then there had been the little boy whoâs parents had been taken, and the shrapnel in his foot. The older woman whoâs son had been shot, and the people whoâd been hit in collateral and didnât have insurance. And you kept helping and helping and helping, but always with your head down. If you were smarter, you wouldnât help at all. It draws attention. Attention begs for investigation. Investigation undercovers secrets, and Ben had always been very clear.
No one could know who you are. What you were to him.
Why you have that gun in your closet, unloaded and kept clean like an heirloom. It wouldnât be hard to trace it to Ben. It wouldnât take a long timeâespecially for Sage, who youâve only seen once from afar but sent a chilling fear through your bones all the sameâto realize why you had one of Soldier Boyâs guns. To look at cameras and place timelines and know. What youâd meant to him.
Part of you wants her to. Maybe sheâd be able to tell you, after.
Because he hadnât stayed for you. And you hadnât been foolish enough to ask him to.
But still.
Youâd hoped he would.
âWe should go somewhere.â Heâd muttered one night, lying flat on his back.
And youâd looked at him in the dark, and found him staring back. Heâd always been staring back.
âWhen this is done.â Ben had reached over, grabbing your wrist. He did that when he needed your attention. You donât think he ever knew that he had all of you, whether he wanted to grab it or not.
âDone?â Youâd breathed. Ben had nodded.
âThe whole thing. All of it. Iâm not going back into acting and shit, everything is bad now anyway-â
âYou liked Paddington 2-â
âShhh.â Ben had covered your mouth, eyes shining. âCanât fucking prove that, can you, doll.â
Youâd shrugged smiling against his hand. Ben had leaned down until your brows were pressed together, and let out a slow, heavy breath.
âWeâll go.â Heâd said it like a secret. Like even in the empty room, you were still the only person he wanted anything to do with in the world. âAnywhere in the world that you want. No more of this fucking bullshit. Just you and me.â
And youâd giggled. Youâd pulled his hand away with a laugh, and kissed his adorable little frown.
âYou like me so much.â Youâd whispered.
Ben had only stared. His heavy sigh had fanned over your cheeks, and heâd kissed the space between your eyes.
âYou got no idea.â
And you wish you had.
You wish youâd asked him to stay, but you keep that buried with the rest of it. You donât want to think about how if you had, he mightâve.
If you had, he might still be next to you today.
You broke a cup. Â Â
The TV in the breakroom is always on, but you usually just spare it passing glances. Since Homelanderâs takeover, it mostly just plays Firecrackerâs stupid propaganda show, or reruns of old Vought movies with Starlightâs scenes cut out. It makes for a clonky, confusing storyline. Sometimes you watch it when youâre bored, if only to feel a ghost of a smile.
Other days, they play Benâs old movies. And you canât stand to listen to those. Just his voice makes you shiver and look around the room, as if he might materialize and grin at you the same way he always did. Like in his eyes, everything just narrowed down to you. The walls existed to hold you and everything around the room was a noise or blockade that needed to be moved, so he could be at your side.
Iâd swim in the ocean for you, doll. Heâd told you one. Youâd laughed. Heâd meant it to be romantic, but heâd just sounded annoyed about it, and it had been so stupidly sweet youâd fallen a little more in love with him. But love with Ben had always come like that. In slow drips that built up and up and up, until there was a bucket to be doused over your head and you had to understand.
That he had been everything.
Youâd known too late. The downpour had come with the news of his death, when every light had become too bright, and all the color in the world had been washed out to nothing. You hadnât been able to tell your co-workers why youâd stumbled and started to whine like a lost dog. Why youâd needed the week off, because your legs had turned to lead and it was too hard to get out of bed.
And youâre not going to be able to explain this, either.
Why you hear his voice, look up at the TV on an instinct youâre never going to be able to squash, and drop your cup.
It shatters all over the floor. The two nurses at the table shoot up to help, one saying something about walking carefully over the broken glass, but you donât hear it.
Thereâs only the ringing in your ears, andârising above it allâBenâs voice.
This isnât old footage. Youâd know. Youâve watched every video and listened to every archived radio interview, just trying to hold onto what you could.
No.
This is new.
Which means Ben- Heâs alive.
Heâs on the TV. Standing next to Homelander with a bored, unimpressed expression, hands on his belt, looking the exact same as he day he left you.
He left you.
It wasnât death that took him. Heâs right there, instead of at your side. His gaze is just as intense as before, and he holds himself with the same confident, lazy posture, and his mouth stays in the pretty, downturned line that you always loved grabbing up and pulling into a smile.
Heâd grab your wrists, but not move you away. Heâd ask what you thought you were doing, but he already knew. Youâd beam and kiss his nose. Heâd pretend to bite yours, and youâd dissolve into giggles and wrap around him like a koala. Heâd tell you he didnât know what he was going to do with you. Youâd call him a liar. Say he knew perfectly well what he wanted to do with you. And heâd grumble, because you teased him so much without ever actually throwing him a bone.
You always reminded him there were plenty of other women out there who would happily want his bone. Youâd wink, and heâd give you that adoring, exasperated look.
Heâd say he didnât care about any other bones but yours. Youâd say that you were both losing the metaphor.
Ben would say he didnât fucking care, and flip you under him. Youâd lose track of time. Of the movie you were supposed to be watching. Of the world.
And then he left.
Just left.
Wasnât taken. Ben just⌠Left. After telling you so many sweet thing, after making so many promises, he just left. And now heâs back.
But not back with you.
Your hand is bleeding. You tried to pick up some of the glass, and it sliced along your palm. You barely even feel it. A part of you was already bleeding all over the floor anyways.
He didnât come back.
Ben couldnât fucking find you.
He wasnât stupid. He wasnât about to go up to any of these weird little pussies and ask them where you were. He didnât need them to know you existed. No one needed to know you existed but Ben himself.
Before he chased after Butcher, heâd gone to your apartment. And heâd been a fucking idiot with this picture in his head, where heâd knock on the door and youâd been thrilled to see him. Heâd sweep you off your feet, and youâd be crying with joy, then heâd fuck you and carry you far, far away from here.Â
But heâd knocked. And knocked. And shouted your name, but no one had answered the fucking door.
Heâd broken in. Youâd be mad about that, if you were with him. That was the kind of thing that got him a stern finger and snapped Benjamin like he was a damn dog being scolded for pissing on the couch.
Donât kill that guy whoâs harassing me, Benjamin. Donât pick up that car in my parking spot and throw it across the street. Donât punch the dickheaded dumbass who cat called me, itâs fine, it happens all the time. Â
It was real fucking cute when you got all mouthy and angry with him, as if there was a damn thing you could do about it.
Although he had always listened.
But it was real hard to tell you no. Or upset you. Or do anything that made your voice all thick and eyes all watery and sad. Ben had a lot of fantasies about your wobbling lips and sad little kicked kitten eyesâthe ones you gave him when he was gone for longer than he said heâd be, or had very fucking reasonably verbally threated the men whoâd been giving you a hard timeâbut none of them involved you being sad. They were all about how pretty you looked like that, and how nice it would be to see that gorgeous sight without feeling so fucking bad about it.
His heart squeezed uncomfortably, when he made you upset or nervous. It was incredibly fucking annoying. When it had first happened, heâd decided he needed to keep you close. To figure out what the fuck you wereâwhat supe or Russian spy had been sent after himâso he could neutralize you.
Then youâd just been a person. And Ben had to deal with the fact that his dumbass fucking heart just did that for you. It didnât do that for anyone else, and heâd been alive a damn long time.
Heâd been angry about it, for about ten seconds.
And then youâd smiled at him.
Heâd decided that as long as you were smiling, there wasnât much to be angry about in the whole fucking world.
There were things to be angry about now, though.
You werenât smiling. You werenât there. Ben had kicked down your apartment door and found it empty. Bare.
Hollow.
Something inside of him had split and become so fucking hollow. Heâd ripped up the floorboards and checked in the vents. Heâd punched a hole in the wall and roared your name, but youâd been gone.
Someone had to have taken you. Youâd always been to smart and kind, you mightâve said something truthful and gotten dragged off to one of Homelanderâs stupid camps for it.
If you were dead, Ben was going to break some shit. A lot of shit. Namely, Homelanderâs fucking skull between his hands.
And if you were alive, heâd still probably do that anyways. For hiding you and hurting you. Heâd just be faster about it. You didnât need to see that shit, and the moment Ben had you again he wasnât going to let go for a damn second.
He just had to find you first.
Ben had been good at investigating, in his day. But shit had also been simpler. There hadnât been Sage hanging over his shoulder and watching him like a very annoying hawk. That Firecracker girl hadnât been trying to hit on himâa shame, because his dick was sore, but his hands hurt even trying to touch someone else so he shut it down fastâand Homelander hadnât been whining like a little fucking bitch baby all the damn time.
All these damn computers with their fucking passcodes and weird words didnât help either. Ben spent an hour trying to break into one, then physically broke it, and all the others in the lab.
The Fish-Fucker walked in on him. Ben narrowed his eyes, and the pussy paled and raised shaking hands.
âHey, dude, I didnât see anything-â
âYou know how to open a computer?â Ben barked, and Fish-Fucker blinked.
âUhh⌠You mean log into one?â Fish-Fucker laughed, high and weak. âYeah, bro, I know how to log in to a computer, who doesnât know how to-â
He cut himself off as Benâs jaw ticked, going even paler. He even looked like a fish.
âSorry, I didnât mean- You shouldnât kill me! I can log in, I can find whatever you want-â
âShut up.â Ben raised a hand, and the Fish-Fucker fell silent. âYou know how to keep your mouth shut?â
âYes. Yes- Sir-â
âOpen it.â Ben pointed at the computer, and Fish Fucker scrambled forward.
He grabbed the back of the pussies neck before he could sit down, dropping his voice to a hiss.
âYou tell anyone about this, I stuff you up like a fuck doll and turn you into fucking chow, you got that?â
Fish-Fucker nodded, throat bobbing and body twitching all pathetically. Ben let him go, and stood back up.
âGood. I got a name for you to look up.â
Fish-Fucker laughed nervously, nodding as he hit his fingers all over the keyboard. âMore revenge, sir?â
âNo.â Ben muttered, clasping his hand in front of him.
Revenge isnât going to help, Ben. Youâd told him that over and over again, but youâd also run your fingers through his hair and told him you wouldnât stop him. Heâd asked you if youâd still be there when he came back with blood on his hands. Heâd meant it to be teasing, a thing he used to say to old lovers to test how much they could handle. Theyâd always giggled and rolled their eyes like they thought it was a damn joke. Youâd tipped your head at him, eyes sharp and bright, and sighed.
Youâd told him heâd need to take a shower, first.
And Ben had known.Â
âWhat is it, then?â Fish-Fucker asked, and Ben didnât bother to answer.
That wasnât for anyone to know but him. You werenât for anyone to know. Not these horrible, weak people who would hurt you and use you against him.
Your face popped up on the screen. The smiling photo that youâd used on social mediaâyouâd taught him what that was, and he didnât fucking care for it but he sure as hell liked seeing pictures of youâand a link to your profile at that hospital youâd worked at.
You still worked there. You werenât gone.
Benâs heart did a little flutter. He ignored it. That kind of gooey shit could be saved for after he found you.
âWho is she?â Fish-Fucker peered at your photo. Ben should pop his eyeballs out of his damn skull. âA Starlighter?â
Ben grunted. âDonât ask stupid fucking questions.â
Fish-Fucker said something else. Ben didnât listen to it.
He had to go find you.
You get home, and you feel like nothing.
Itâs been two weeks, since you found out Ben was alive. Two long weeks where time dragged you through the mud and you had to learn how to keep your heart beating.
You pulled out the gun every night. Youâd never shoot itâyou didnât even have ammunitionâbut youâd needed to hold it. To cling to proof that it hadnât all been a dream. Heâd been here. Heâd given you part of him to keep.
Then heâd decided you werenât worth the rest.
Youâd thought, like a naĂŻve, lovesick school girl, that you were going to be worth the rest.
You kick off your shoes, and go straight for the gun again. You lie on the floor, because itâs cold and that forces you to stay awake. You havenât been sleeping properly, and when you pass out from exhaustion you donât wake up well rested. It all hurts. It always hurts, and you donât think itâs ever going to not hurt again.
You close your eyes, hugging the gun tight to your chest. Tears are burning behind your eyes again. Youâd been hoping youâd run out, but you feel the hot shame of one sliding down your cheek. A broken sob rattles through your chest, and youâve given up on fighting it.
This is just always going to hurt.
âI didnât give you that so you could shoot yourself, doll.â
You scream. Your hands fly before you can think, scrambling to grab the gun. Some scratch in the back of your head knows that a bad idea, and drum in your chest demands that itâs bad idea, but youâre tired and afraid. You thought you were alone, and youâre not, so you aim the gun straight at the man standing in your door.
Ben grabs it like heâs taking a toy from a toddler. He takes out the empty clip and examines it with a frown, his hair flopping over his face. Youâre breathing so shallow you think you might have passed out. Youâve had a lot of dreams about him since he left. Youâve just finally gone off the deep-end, and now theyâre hallucinations.
âHm. Not loaded.â Ben tosses the clip off to the side, shooting you a smirk. âGood girl.â
You donât know if you scream again, or crawl to him on your knees. He sounds real. He looks real. Heâs smiling at you like he never left, like you hadnât pour every piece of yourself out to make room for the swelling grief of his absence. If you reach out, you think youâd find solid muscle and warmth. A heart that beats under your fingers, in a rhythm you always hear when you close your eyes. Ben would cover your hand with his own, holding onto your wrist the same way he did before. Like he wanted to tie you together. Like he could never bear to let go.
Or youâd just pass right through thin air.
And everything you have left would dissolve with the illusion.
You wrap your arms tight around your stomach, drawing your knees to your chest. You know this is fear. You know Ben thinks fear is weak, but heâs never looked at you and said you were anything but his.
Then he left.
And youâre not anyoneâs anymore.
Ben says your name, and you swallow. He sounds so real.
âBen?â You whisper.
A familiar smile ghosts over his lips. It terrifies you.
âMe.â He murmurs, tossing the gun onto the couch without breaking your gaze. âHey, doll.â
He takes a step forward.
You push back, pressing yourself into a small ball on the floor.
Ben freezes. His brow furrows, and his lips press in a tight, thin line. He reaches out. And you donât want to touch him and know heâs not real.
You shrink away.
âHow did you get in.â You whisper, fixing your gaze on his knees.
âYou didnât lock the door.â Ben grunts. âWhich we gotta talk about later, thatâs not fucking safe, but first-â
He says your name, reaching once more, and you squeeze your eyes shut.Â
Strong, warm fingers grab your chin. You make a tiny noise from the back of your throat, and for a split second, the whole world goes still.
You can feel him. Heâs tipping your chin up, handling you like a baby bird even as he angles it how he wants, and you can feel him.
âLook at me.â Ben mutters, and you drag your eyes open.
Heâd kneeling in front of you, brow furrowed tight. Thereâs that look again. The one that makes you naked and exposed, your clothing sticking to your skin and every inch of you seen.
Ben sees you. You can see him.
And either youâd fully lost your mind, or heâs⌠Heâs reallyâŚ
âYouâre here.â You breathe. âYouâre real.â
Benâs eyes snap to yours. His frown deepens.
ââCourse Iâm real, why the hell wouldnât I be real.â
âYou left.â
And something flashes over his features. Itâs furious and loud, but not directed at you. His fingers on your chin donât even flex.
âI didnât leave.â He grunts, the words pushed through his teeth. âI told you Iâd never fucking leave you.â
Your tongue flicks over your lips. You shake your head.
âI saw you on TV.â
He chuckles. âYeah, those weird fuckinâ attention sluts love a camera-â
âYou were there, Ben.â You cut him off with only a whisper. âNot here. I- I thought you were dead.â
The stupid tears are back. And they always blur the whole world, but Ben remains sharp. Of course he does. Bastard.
âI waited.â Your voice breaks. Ben watches you, his jaw clenched tight. âI thought you were dead and I still waited, and you- You were just on TV-â
âDonât say it like that, itâs- Thatâs not what this shit is-â
âYou left.âÂ
âNo, I didnât-â
âYou left me.â You scream, and Ben blinks.
Itâs like every bit of pain, every scrape and open wound youâve been treating with paper band-aides, Benâs ripped everything wide open. Your tears are falling freely, your voice high and soft as you struggle to breathe, all the grief and anger at him crashing from your mouth in unforgiving waves.
âYou left me, you said youâd come back, you said weâd go anywhere and youâd be here and you- You fucking left me here and I- I-â
Your word crack into a body-shaking sob, and you try to slump away from him. To just sink into the floor where he canât see your weakness, your crying, every fissure in the mask youâre usually so good at keeping together. You donât want him to see the rawness underneath. The way that youâve always been ill-matched, because thereâs nothing in Ben that even knows how to break, but youâre like an gastropod. Every bit of armor is borrowed and crafted. Under it, youâre nothing for him.
Weak.
âYou left me.â Youâre still breathing it out. You canât stop. âYou left.â
Ben sighs. And when he gets up and walks away, youâre going to be okay. Youâre going to find a way to be okay, even if that means just having this gaping feeling forever.
But Ben doesnât leave.
He wraps around you, and you wiggle a little, but he doesnât let go. He pulls you fully into his lap, and you go limp. Your face presses into his chest, tears flowing freely with every shaking, silent sob. Ben rubs your back, holding you steady. And despite yourself, you hold on. You sink in your nails where you never shouldâve let go, and you hold on.
His heartbeat hasnât changed. And everything in your still recognizes it.
Still calls it yours.
âDidnât run.â He mutters once your breathing has evened, tangling his fingers in your hair. âButcher turned on me, helped Homelander and that Maeve bitch knock me off the tower. Got put back under. Homelander woke me up. And the first fucking thing I did was start looking for you, but you werenât where I left you.â
You swallow. Youâd moved because you couldnât stand that apartment without him. You turned every corner and expected him to be there. It was pure torture.
âBut I found you.â Ben continues. âI fucking found you. And Iâm not going again, doll. Weâre leaving, together, and thatâs it.â
Ben tugs on your head, and you let him pull you back. Heâs not cryingâyouâd be shocked if he knew howâbut thereâs a heavy light in his eyes, like a lamp thatâs begging to be bright enough to be seen. You reach up to trace his jaw. His eyes close for a second, and he leans into the touch.
Your throat bobs. Your voice is still small.
âWhy should I believe you?â
Benâs eyes shoot open, glinting and sharp. Not dangerous. Never to you.
Just focused.
âBecause Iâm telling the fucking truth-â
âSwear it?â
Ben nods, and you tilt your head.
âYou swore youâd come back.â
âAnd I am back.â He grabs your wrist, keeping your hand to his face. âNo promises got broken, doll. And Iâm not fucking leaving without you.â
You laugh, something in you breaking and fusing together all at once. Like glass, burning before it gets to be something beautiful. Something that can let the light in.
âDonât say that.â You breathe, holding his gaze. âIâll believe you.â
Benâs eyes narrow. He leans over you, that attention as unwavering as always, and suddenly thereâs nowhere to hide. Not that you ever could. Not from him.
âYou think Iâm not serious?â He murmurs, low and dangerous.
You donât flinch. You never have.
âProve that you are.â
A deep sound rumbles from Benâs chest. He lets go of his hand, his own flying up to frame your face. Your breath hitches, right as his lips slam against yours.
Youâve kissed Ben many times. He always does it like itâs going to be the last time he ever touches you. Heâs demanding in how much you take, but never how much you give. Your mouth falls open in a moan, and he grunts, hauling you up his chest to deepen the kiss. Itâs sloppy and wet, your fingers scrambling against his shirt to keep steady, but he doesnât falter for a single second.
âBe- Ben-â
He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing as his teeth drag over your swollen lips.
âBen-â
âThatâs right.â He grunts. âSay my name, I know you didnât forget who fuckinâ owns you.â
God, you should shove him for that. But he knows what it does to you. He smirks, when your thighs clench and a soft whine escapes your lips.
Ben lands a sharp slap on your ass. It makes you keen, collapsing over his chest. Youâre pulling at him, kisses uncoordinated and desperateâhow did you ever survive without this, youâre not sureâas you try to further a kiss thatâs already fusing you together by the mouth.
He doesnât even come up for air.
âOh- Fuck, Ben-â
He speaks against your lips, voice rolling in his chest.Â
âI know, doll. You believe me now, donât you.â
âYe- Yes-â
Another slap. This time he lets his hand drag lower, teasing over the crease between your thighs, then the hem of your shorts. Your hips buck into the featherlight touch. Ben grunts, short and tight.
âDirty girl.â He mutters, starting to wander his kisses over your cheeks. âSay it louder. You fucking believe me.â
âI- Ooooh-â
You press your face into his neck, biting down a moan. The tips of his fingers are tracing your pussy through your shorts. You sink your nails into his shoulders, your breathing ragged as he starts to trace them back and forth.
âYou what?â He teases, nipping at your ear. âHeard you start to say something doll, you already that stupid? Iâm barely fucking touching you.â
âYou- Youâre touching enough.â You breathe out, squeezing your eyes shut. âMore- Please-â
âMore?â Ben snorts. âYouâre always getting me on that fucking feelings shit, you donât get more until you talk.â
You shake your head. âBen, I- I canât-â
âCanât what? Canât speak? Canât say Ben, I believe you. âCause trust me doll, when you do Iâm going to touch you for real, and youâll feel real fucking stupid for how youâre acting right now.â
Ben rips clean through your shorts, and thick, warm fingers start to rub the lips of your pussy. He scissors two fingers, pressing them just upside your core, then dragging back and forth. Itâs all pressure and not enough friction. Itâs going to drive you out of your mind.
âCome on, baby, whereâd all that fucking spunk go-â
âYou- Benjamin-â
âUh oh.â He laughs. âIâm in trouble.â
The tips of his fingers graze your clit. You whine, grinding back into the touch, and Ben grabs your pussy with a single hand. Heâs covering it completely, pinning you to his chest, and you moan so loud you think it echoes.
âThink youâre going to forgive me?â He mutters in your ear. âThink Iâm not dead fuckinâ serious, when I tell you that Iâm back. That I want you, all of you, and Iâd kill people to have it.â
âI- I donât want you to kill anyone.â You breathe, dazed and drunken on him.
Ben chuckles, kissing right under your jaw.
âI know you donât, pretty girl. And Iâll go on the damn leash if youâre yanking me, but Iâm not letting you drop me. We go, we go together, you fucking remember that. We get out. You gonna get out with me?â
âBen-â
âIâll take care of you.â He mutters. His hand starts to move again, torturously slow. âIâll be real fucking good to you, swear it. Swear it on you.â
Two fingers slide over your pussy, spreading your arousal on his fingertips. A slow, breathless sigh of escapes your lips, and Ben lets you have this. He teases those fingers over your cunt a few times, then slowly pushes one of them in. You gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck. Just his finger is the biggest stretch of your life.
âI know.â He kisses under your ear, pressing it further in until heâs at the knuckle. âItâs a lot, isnât it. But youâre doinâ so fucking well. Sweet fucking pussy, all wet and tight for me.â
âMmmh.â
âSay itâs for me.â He demands, crooking them so they hit a soft little button youâre never able to find yourself.
âBen-â
âSay it.â
âSâ for you-â You take in a sharp breath, when he starts to slowly pump them in and out. âAll for you, Ben, I- Iâm all-â
Your words break into a moan. Heâs pressing back against that same spot, rubbing it until youâre squeezing around him before drawing shallowly out and slamming back in. Obscene sounds fill the room, and you didnât even know you could get this wet.
Itâs a grace. Benâs finger is massive. You can feel every drag of him inside you, and youâre not sure how youâre managing to take it when you keep squeezing around him.
âHow- How big is your dick?â
He barks a laugh, pulling your face back with his hand on the back of your neck. He kisses you slowly, matching the pace of his fingers moving inside you.
âYouâll see, baby.â He says. âJust need to be good.â
You pout slightly. âI am being good.â
Benâs lips twitch. He kisses your forehead, then suddenly speeds his fingers up. Your back arches, hips grinding as you try to chase the feeling, but he holds you firm.
âBen-â
âSay it.â He grunts, squeezing the back of your neck. âYou wanna be so fucking good, say it-â
âI love you!â Your words come sudden and desperate. âI- I love- I love you, please-â
You almost scream, when his fingers stop moving. You grab his wrist, blinking in hopeless confusion. Benâs jaw is clenched tight, his eyes wide and nostrils flaring.
Then you realize.
Shit.
âBen, I- I didnât-â
âYou didnât mean it?â He grunts, and you shake your head frantically.
âI didnât mean to- I just- I missed you, and you said- And you were-â You gesture frantically at his hand. His fingers, still buried deep inside you. âAnd I- You donât have to-â
Ben moves, and your words turn into a squeal. Youâre airborne, being tossed over his shoulder as he stands.
âFuck- Benjamin, what are you-â
He slaps your ass, then drags two fingers back through your pussy. You close your eyes, biting your lower lip to stifles the moan at the perfect combo of pleasure and pain.
Ben spanks you again, his voice stern as he moves to his feet.
âDonât fucking do that quiet shit. Let me hear you.â
His finger pushes back into your cunt, finding that spongey spot in a second. This time you let yourself moan fully, and youâre rewarded with a scraping kiss on your ass.
âThere you go, baby. Thatâs what I want.â
You keen at the praise, and you donât know why you bothered hiding it from him. Ben feels and see the flutter of your pussy and chuckles. Your knees are dragged together, forcing more pressure, making you tighter around his finger when he shoves it back in.
âBe- Ben-â Your getting light-headed, from the combination of his touch and being upside down. âWhat- Whatâre we doing-â
âYouâre telling me where the bedroom is.â He grunts, turning in a circle like a magic sign is going to appear. âThen Iâm fucking you âtill you canât walk.â
âOh- Okay.â
You grab a fistful of his shirt as he slaps your ass again, moaning when that fucking finger starts to pump once more. Thereâs a pressure building in your core, and the way heâs holding you is only making it worse. Like youâre just a toy, but still the most important thing in his life. He keeps kissing your thigh and ass while he fingerfucks you. Your exposed to the cold air, the window is open, but the warmth of his hand and bodyâthe warmth of what heâs doing to youâis almost too much to handle.
âBed, doll.â His reminder is gruff, but soft.
You nod, your tongue all loose and hopeless. âI- I um- It was- That way-â
You press on his shoulder, steering him towards the door and Ben slaps your pussy.
âGood girl.â
The praise and touch shoot through you like a drug. You think you might be about to cum just like this. Over Benâs shoulder with barely any friction at all.
He kicks the door open, and marches into your room. Youâve never seen him so focused before. He lays you down on the bed with shocking care, before ripping at your clothing like a child on Christmas.
Ben whistles, when youâre fully exposed to him.
âLook at you, baby, canât believe I was sleeping next to you for months and you wouldnât let me touch.â
You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your breasts. âYou didnât earn touching. Only good, domesticated boys get that.â
Ben scowls, pulling off his shirt. âIâm a domesticated fucking man, doll.â
And you giggle. Because heâs so fucking stupid, but heâs here. Youâd cry if there wasnât a helium filled light, blooming through your body.
You still might cry.
Benâs looking at you like youâve lost your mindâand like he doesnât care the slightest, heâs just mostly concernedâand you laugh more because youâre definitely going to cry. Youâre going to cry during sex with Soldier Boy, and heâs still going to fuck you anyway.Â
âYou know itâs not nice to start fucking laughing before a man takes his pants off-â
âI love you.â
You say it plainly, because it is. You love Ben. You have for so long, and it had been buried like treasure, but now heâs here. Now it gets to shine, and itâs far too bright to be ignored.
Ben looks shell-shocked. Heâs panting like you punched him, but youâre not worried. Heâs a big boy. Heâll be okay.
You both will.
âI love you,â you repeat, beaming up at him. âI love you so much, Ben, I-â
You giggle again, as he almost stumbles forward to kiss you. His massive chest envelops you, his kisses pushing you back into the mattress, and you meet him with everything you have.
Ben pulls back. Staring at you the same way he always has.
Like heâs found the last, greatest wonder of the world.
âSay it again.â He mutters.
âI love you.â
You offer it easily. Itâs his to have.
And Ben seems to swallow it. His mouth closes, his tongue flicking over his lips, and you know that face.
It means heâs on a fucking mission.
âHereâs how this is going.â He grunts, fixing you with a glare. âYou listen. I work. Iâm tasting you,â he slaps your pussy again, lips twitching at the full body shutter it gives him. âThen youâre going to cum on my cock until youâre sobbing, and Iâm going to keep fucking you until you canât walk. You got that.â
You swallow and nod. Benâs eyes narrow.
âYou talk to me, sweetheart, I canât read your fucking mind.â
âGot it.â You breathe, your legs spreading wide.
Itâs a shameless offering. Ben slaps your pussy again, and you buck a little of the bed with a whine of delight.
âHold onto something.â He winks, sliding slowly down your body. âI ainât going fucking easy.â
You expect no less of him. And youâd be able to make that joke, if he didnât lick a thick stripe up your pussy and make you shriek.
âHoly fuck-â Your eyes roll back in your head, your hands clawing at the sheets.
Ben chuckles, the sound vibrating against you, and repeats the motion. Your thighs press together, but he shoves them back open with a single hand, settling fully down.
âNo hiding from me.â He mutters, breath warm over your core. âLook at you, doll. Even prettier from down here, didnât know that was fucking possible.â
You laugh breathlessly. âKiss ass.â
âGets me places.â Ben kisses the inside of your thigh, sucking softly.
His beard scrapes and tickles against you, his chin pressing where you need him and his nose bumping your neglected clit.
âOhhhh.â You close your eyes, slowly running your fingers through his hair. âOh God, Ben-â
He hums in approval, switching to match the mark on the other side. Heâs let go of your thighs to grab everywhere else, rubbing your ass, your hips, your sides. He slides a massive palm over your abdomen, pinning you to be bed. You should know thatâs a warning sign, but youâre too lost in the heat of his mouth.
âBen...â You moan freely, covering his hand with one of yours.
He flips it over, and you thread your fingers together.
Another warning.
âThatâs- Fuck-â
He blows on your clit, and shivers run up your spine. You donât think you can take being teased any longer. Not right now.
âMore, Ben, more-â
A dark, promising chuckle rumbles in his chest. You crane your neck to look at him, and realize your mistake too late.
Heâd been waiting for you to ask. And now that you have, heâs not holding back.
Ben shoves his face fully between your thighs, lapping and sucking at your clit and soaked pussy like a man starved, and your mouth falls in a long, silent scream.
Youâve been eaten out before, but never like this. Benâs going at you the same way he kisses you. The same way he does everything. With everything he has, and the mindset that less is a sin. If something is worth doing, heâs not going to slack.
And your pussy is under that full focus. Itâs almost too much to handle.
Ben makes out with every sensitive spot, inside and outside. He licks and tongue-fucks, letting you squeeze around him and pushing your ass up to hit a better angle. He noses at your clit while he works on your gaping, leaking hole, then switches.
Soft, slightly chapped lips wrap around your clit, sucking on you with all the power of a fucking sex toy. His tongue flicks back and forth over and over again, building you into a whining, cloudy eyed frenzy. You scratch at his scalp and pull on his hair, but it just makes him moan, and now everything is vibrating.
Everything seems to make him moan. Ben grunt every time you jerk your hips, slamming them back down and squeezing your hand. He moans when you squeeze down on his tongue, when he brings you right up to the edge then stops at the last second, so you slam his shoulders in frustration.
Sometimes he laughs. And thatâs even worse. It makes his massive armsâwrapped around your hipsâflex, and it goads him into working you impossibly deeper. You turn your face, pressing it into the pillows. Ben squeezes your hand, dragging your clit between his teeth before pulling away for a single second.
âEyes.â He grunts, and your attention snaps over.
âBe- Ben-â
âWatch me, doll.â He open-mouth kisses you clit, and you whimper. âThatâs right, donât you look away for a fucking second.â
Now that youâre watching, you couldnât if you tried.
Ben goes back to his self-assigned job, and the sight is more lewd and sinful than any porno in the world. His massive shoulders roll and flex as he moves you how he wants. You canât see his mouth, but you can see him moving his head with his tongue on your clit. He shakes it, playing the nerve bundle like a bop-it, and youâre right back up the edge again.
And again, Ben stops.
You almost scream, and Ben chuckles. He kisses your poor, throbbing clit all sweet, then goes back to slowly working his tongue against your entrance. Youâre wound too tight. You think you might snap from just the wrong breath.
âBe- Ben-â You pull his hair, trying to get him back up to your clit. âBen, let me cum- I- I need to cum-â
He just moans again. Youâre going to kill him.
âPlease, I- I canât take it-â You moan, trying to squirm your body further onto his face. âGod, Ben, I canât- I need it so bad, please-â
Sharp, lust-blown eyes snap to yours. You whimper, giving him your best hopeless pout. Itâs the one that usually gets him to cave. He laughs and shakes his head and gives you whatever you want, grumbling affectionately about how damn impossible you are.
But this time, he just smirks against your pussy. And you might have him wrapped around your finger, but heâs got you cornered.
Take it. Heâd said.
You donât think you have a choice.
âLook at you,â Ben drawls, kissing your clit. His beard drags. You whimper, eyes locked onto his.
The sounds earns you another kiss, and it makes you squirm. With how his eyes gleam, youâre worried heâll just keep you like this all night.
âYouâre close.â He mocks, rubbing his palm against your pussy. âSo close, baby doll. I can fuckinâ see it, youâre about to cry.â
You glare at him, and he just grins.
âYou think Iâll give a shit? Think I donât want to see you break for me?â
He presses his hand down harder. You go to reach for it, but Ben grabs your wrist and pins it firmly next to him on the mattress.
âNo touching.â He grunts. âMine.â
Oh, that makes you clench around nothing. After, youâre going to force him to make dinner and maybe do taxes or drive a car to earn feminism points back, but right now everything is just Ben, lying between your legs, calling you his.
And heâs staring at your pussy, almost transfixed. You moan as his thumb rubs your clit, his hand rising up so he can watch you react. You can feel yourself, gushing and fluttering. Desperate for anything he can give you. Youâll beg more, youâll take it however he wants, you just need more.
âChrist on a fucking cross.â Ben mutters, pressing his cheek into your thigh. âYou know, Iâve seen a lot of pussies, doll.â
You shoot him a look. âRomantic.â
He rolls his eyes, pinching your clit between his fingers.
âWas going to say yours is the best, you fucking brat.â
You smile, cupping his cheek with trembling fingers. Youâre seconds from exploding with desire, but you just want to hold him. Feel him, for only a little longer.
Something in Benâs expression shifts. For the briefest moment, it softens. His shoulders relax, and the slow breath he lets out sounds like a release. He kisses the inside of your palm. His thumb pushing on your clit, dragging it back and forth in a steady, relieving rhythm.
But youâre too sensitive. Youâre being worked back up too fast, and tears start to prick.
âBen.â You breathe, fingers curling against his cheek. âPlease.â
He smirks. Thereâs one last kiss on your clit, then another on your well-bruised thighs. He rises to his knees, slapping your pussy while one hand undoes his belt.
Ben chuckles, at the way you fully tremble from the hit.
âYou fucking like that shit, donât you.â
You shrug, watching his belt slide away. âMaybe.â
âYou do. Can see it, you-â He pushes two fingers back into your cunt, and you moan.
âBen- Oooooh-â
He tosses aside his belt, spanks your clit, and grins triumphantly.
âFucking felt that. You started pouring on me like a waterfall, you love it-â
You kick at his thigh, flushing and rolling your eyes. âShut up.â
âDonât think I will.â He drawls, going back to his pants. âThink I get to talk as much as I want, baby doll. Youâre the one thatâs going to be fucked all damn stupid.â
You had a smart, sharp retort.
It dies when Ben pulls down his pants, and you see his cock.
Of course heâs such an arrogant, smug ass. Endowed is too weak a word. Heâs blessed. Heâs got the most beautiful cock youâve ever seenâthick and long in all the best ways, like it was handcrafted to give your pussy a heart attackâand with the look on his face, he fucking knows it.
âSee something you like,â he grins down at you, stroking himself slowly.
âI⌠UmâŚâ You lick your lips, crawling slowly up the mattress. âYouâre veryâŚâ
You trail off again. Youâre humping the sheets like an animal, forcing yourself not to just fucking touch yourself, but itâs impossible. Heâs too⌠everything.
Ben laughs, prowling up over you.
âYouâre fucking drooling.â
âYouâre pretty.â
âI am not fucking pretty.â
âYou are.â You roll your eyes, letting Ben drag you onto your back. âYouâre so pretty, Ben, itâs bonkers.â
He grunts, settling himself above you. âPretty is what you call a fucking show pony.â
âYou are a show pony.â
That earns you a glower. You beam back in return, giggling at your own jokes.
âWhen weâre done, you should let me braid your- Oh my God-â
You grab at his shoulder, eyes going wide as Ben slides his cock into you with one, smooth movement. He drives right into your g-spot, dropping his hips so heâs pinning you into it. He grinds down, abs rubbing on your clit, and there it is.
That coil that had been building in you all night. Ben gets inside of you for ten seconds, and you snap.
You writhe and scramble under him, grabbing at his chest and trying to hide from the overwhelming orgasm ripping through your body. Ben grabs your jaw and forces your gaze back to his, still grinding down onto you as it drags on. You whimper, making garbled sounds of his name.
Ben kisses you, as you twitch through the last bits of it. You turn to limp putty, moaning into his mouth and shivering as he settles at being bottomed out.
âThatâs what I wanted to see.â He mutters, nipping at your upper lip. âThatâs what I fucking dreamed about.â
You whimper, and Ben laughs. He gives you a shallow thrust, and your eyes go wide.
âDonât think Iâm done with you yet, baby.â He teases, ghost his lips over yours. âWe got a lot of fucking time to make up for, and you,â he gives another, sharper slam of his hips. âAre too fucking gorgeous to just give one orgasm.â
A strangled sound escapes your lips, and Ben grins.
âI know. But feel that,â he pulls all the way out, then slams back in. âReal good, isnât it. Fuck, this pussy was made for me. Going to fuck you until my name is written on it, until it canât even take anyone else.â
His logic is flawed, but you still moan. Hard not to, when youâve got all the mass and power of him over you, driving in and out of you at a torturously slow pace.
âThatâs my girl.â He coos, bumping your nose before going for a hot, sloppy kiss. âThatâs a good fuckinâ cock slut for me, arenât you.â
Your eyes fly open, your pussy clenching down, and Ben laughs. He starts to drill into you, knocking every bit of air from your lungs.
âYeah, I know how you like it. My dirty baby, get off of me telling you that I own you,â he slams down, and tears burn at your eyes. âThat Iâm going to fucking wreck you, turn you into my fuck doll, my sweet little fucking whore.â
You moan, the shame only making the heat in your tummy build faster. Ben rises over you, hair pressed to his brow from sweat.
âThatâs right. Take it, take this cock and thank me for it.â
He slides his thumb over your lips, pressing down ever so slightly as his cock fucks ruthlessly in and out of your pussy. You mewl, opening your mouth for him to take. Ben laughs, thick and breathless, and pushes his thumb in.
âFucking- Christ-â He groans as you start to suck. âYouâre so fucking beautiful, and- Tight-â
He groans, fucking impossibly harder. The bed squeaks and shifts. You moan around his thumb, tears flowing down your cheeks.
âCrying for me, baby doll, so fucking desperate youâre going to cry for it- Shit-â
Your second orgasm hits suddenly. You clench down on Ben, making him groan loudly. His chest is tight with restraint, and you scratch at the muscle, whining around his thumb.
Itâs so much. Too much. Youâre stuffed so full, and you can barely breathe, and itâs perfect but you donât know what to do with yourself but sob and moan.
âThere you go, so tight and warm.â Benâs babbling. You think heâs lost himself as much as you have. âFuck, youâre going to be death of me if you keep lookinâ like that, gotta-â
You squeak as Ben pulls his thumb and cock out with wet sounds. Thereâs no time to protest the loss, though, before youâre being flipped onto your stomach and fucked within and inch of your life.
Ben drags your ass in the air, barely giving you a second to recover before heâs back to railing you into the mattress. You cum even faster this time, between the filthy words and deeper position.
âGreedy pussy canât get enough, can she.â Ben grunts in your ear, his chest draped over your back. âYou love it, fucking love being marked up and fucked like an animal. You fucking slut, bet that pretty mouth needs something to suck on again. Be youâll look so pretty choking on my dick, to bad you look even fuckinâ better like this.â
You cum again with Benâs thumb in your mouth, tears on your cheeks, and his body wrapped around yours. Then a third time, when he rises up and plays with your ass, shoving your head into the mattress to watch you cry and try to wiggle back on his cock.
After a while, you lose track of what position your in. Youâre over him, then under, then pressed against the headboard and folded in half. You donât know how heâs held himself off this long. Youâre a boneless, oversensitive puddle made of countless orgasms, by the time Ben starts to rut and groan.
Ben finishes inside you, holding you firmly above him as his hips jerk up. You watch him come apart under dazed, tear-stained lashes. Itâs the most beautiful sight in the world. Heâs pumping into you, hot and jerking, dripping out of your pussy as just more and more comes. A wet sound fills the air, and you can see his own release stained over his abdomen as he just keeps going.
You think you pass out, after. You must, because when you come too, youâre lying on clean sheets and wearing Benâs shirt. You stare at the ceiling for a while, still partially lost to the world.
You come back to earth, when Ben says your name. Heâs coming out of the shower, bare-chested and glorious.
He gives you that small smile, and you return it without a thought.
âFeeling alright?â He mutters, climbing into bed at your side.
No pants. Unhelpful.
âUm-â You stare at his cock, swinging between his thighs. Your mouth is watering. âYouâŚâ
âJesus, woman.â He snorts. âIâm not trying to fucking break you, stop slobbering.â
âI am not slobbering-â
âYeah, you fucking are.â
You stick your tongue out and try to roll away, but Benâs right. He worked you. One movement comes with a whine, and suddenly youâre being pinned below Benâs bare body.
âRest.â He scolds, and you roll your eyes.
âYouâre not my boss-â
âYeah, but I love you, and Iâm going to be real damn pissed if you hurt yourself.â He taps your jaw. âRest.â
You blink at him.
And again, Ben just finds a way to make you feel more full.
âYou love me?â You whisper.
He blinks. You donât think he knows he said it.
âOf course I do-â
âSay it.â
He scowls. âYou heard it, means I said it-â
âSay it again.â You give him that look. The pouty one.
This time, itâs going to work.
âPlease?â You add.
Ben sighs, shaking his head, and glares at you like youâre the bane of his existence.
You might be. But he likes it, and heâs the one whoâs going to be keeping you at the center of his universe.
âI love you.â He grunts.
You beam, and Ben kisses you with a labored sigh. Itâs slow. Romantic.
Meant to remind you that you have time.
âGood boy.â You whisper, and he groans.
âYouâre real lucky-â
âYeah.â You cut him off, and he lets you.
He always lets you. Because he loves you.
âI am.â
âŚEnd note: i dont care what he does in the show this is my emotional support old horny manâŚ
âŚIf you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3âŚ
âŚBuy me a coffee!âď¸ (and get early access!)âŚ
âŚTaglist (Fill out this form to be added!)âŚ
@kaz-2y5-spn @roseblue373 @fxckingjo
@angrydragon90 @biodegradable-glitter-fest @idontwannabehere78 @mystic-writings @miss-marmalade
@callingallslashers @mgchaser @callsignmagnolia @starrylanex @rejitheveggie
@alwaystiredandconfused @gojoswaterbottle @cookiemonstermusic258 @ladykitana90 @juliperezsilveira @amelya5567 @magic-sprinkled-daydreams @cupidzbunny @kayleezee @annoyingrebelsoul @lunaleah @strawberrykiwisdogog @iprobablyshipit91 @panickedbitch
@itserickalove @deerandbunnies @kimxwinchester @wvffles @mrsjenniferwinchester
@lupinslibraries @rach5ive @biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @jensenacklesfan69 @huang-the-geek
@shanimallina87 @alexxavicry @bonbonnie88 @bearasara @fox-saturn
@htasemh @ladykitana90 @ultimatecin73 @pressedwater @sbwifey @fuckingdamnitdean @indyredhead @lokigonnakmsforbucky
@soullessambs @podiumackles @its-in-the-woods @fucking-avocados @blueflame2778 @cherrygirl444 @itsmaria-2520 @godhelpthisbtch @stellamagicmoon @sp00derman03 @bejeweledinterludes2 @diamondlp11 @looking1016 @pqnk @nebulawish82 @lilithxlm @globetrotter28 @serendididy @allthingswickedpodcast @jessheartsyou @enchantedtomeetcoffee @ralilda @sarah-with-an-s @taecallsmenoona @person-005 @mtnzen @trojanaurora @star-yawnzzn @kennafild @arvlr @panickedhoe @cranberrysauce666 @l0singctrl @gillyhicks331 @kelseaackles @fertilise-me @midnightsync
@babychevyimpala67 @curlygirlie-liani-xoxo @amourflores @soullessambs @imminentpathforce @10ava01 @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes @bleuatlas @darklyshinyknowledge @sra7riddle-malfoy @ralida @hopelessbrain @spectralgalaxygauntlet

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
manhandle â dean winchester.
inspired by this anon here .á
cw: smut, oral (f. receiving), loverboy!dean, gentle manhandling 18+
softdom!dean winchester x gf!reader ⎠wc: 3.7k
dean was always touching you. he simply just couldnât help himself. you were his comfort. his person. his home. the one thing in this world that was entirely and unequivocally his.
and so the flirty little touchesâlike a hand that lingers just a few seconds too long on your back or on your thighâhad become your comfort. your constant. your grounding force. they were just so quintessentially dean.
the two of you had been following up on some leads about the case you were working on. dean had been all over you all day as usual, but considerably more so when you had been interviewing a group of young college guys about a victim. dean didn't like how the three guys had been staring at you, eyeing you up and down like a piece of meat. you noticed the sharp look dean gave them and felt a possessive hand pressed against your lower back, making its way down to your hip, resting there comfortably.
you couldn't help but smile a little as their faces dropped, averting their eyes from both you and dean. it was funny, and a thing you were used toâseeing dean show you off and claim you so proudly in front of others. you enjoyed it, how touchy and jealous your boyfriend was.
it continued with playful little pinches to your ass throughout the day and his arm lazily slung over your shoulders during lunch in the little run-down diner you'd found, still eagerly showing you off as his to anyone that looked your way. dean had obviously just been excited to work the case alone with you for the day after dropping off sam at the local library to research the townâs history.
after the three of you had gone back ân forth and figured out what had been killing the townsfolkâa very pissed-off vengeful spiritâyou and dean jumped into the impala, ready to pick up sam and dust the evil son of a bitch. the actual hunt itself had been quite simple, burning the bones of the spirit in an old-timey cemetery. quick and easy.
dean eventually pulled the impala up just outside of the motel room. you, sam and dean all tiredly stumbled out into the crisp night air with satisfied smiles on your faces, glad to have put that case behind you and protected the town from letting anyone else get hurt.
as you began to make your way back to the room, deanâs hands wrapped around your waist. you let out a soft squeal as he picked you up, carrying you bridal style in his arms.
âgotcha,â he teased with a smirk. you could feel his strength and the warmth of his body pressed against yours. you felt safe in his arms. he felt like home.
sam looked at you both and instantly recognised the look on deanâs face. he sighed and made some excuse to leave, mentioning something about getting his own room for the night so he âcould actually get some sleep.â
sam walked off, and you couldnât help but laugh as the adrenaline continued to simmer through your veins. deanâs grip on you was firm and secure, but also gentleâlike you were some fragile little thing he was holdingâas he carried you through the parking lot.
as you got inside the motel room, dean pinned you up against the back of the door. he pressed his body against yours and looked at you with a keen grin, âyouâre so beautiful, baby. so strong and smart.â
a warm smile spread across your face as dean gently cupped your cheek. you could see the love in his expression; you could feel it in his gaze.
you almost instinctively leaned into his touch and looked into his sparkling green eyes. âso are you, dean,â you replied, your voice low and soft with a hint of amusement in your tone. you could feel the tension between you both, the high from the hunt still coursing through your bodies.
you swore you could almost see dean blush at your words. he let his hand trace down your cheek to your jaw, grasping it gently. he tilted your head to meet his intense gaze. dean took a few silent moments to just look at you, letting his eyes drift over your features as the grin softened on his lips. it was times like this when dean could hardly believe you were his.
he kept ahold of your jaw; his grip was possessive, but there was an undeniable tenderness behind it. he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, so many unspoken words moving between the two of you. the world around you faded away as his lips moved with yours, igniting those sparks that helped light that familiar warmth in your lower stomach.
your lips moved in time together, your tongues tangling and dancing in your mouth. you let out a soft moan, and you felt deanâs lips curve into a smile against your own. his hand dropped down to your throat, his fingers gently wrapping around itânot tight enough to hurt you, but firm enough to feel your pulse beating below his fingertips.
dean broke the kiss and looked at you once again. his gaze was loving, but you could see the need in his blown-out pupils. you leaned your head back as you panted, almost subconsciously submitting to him and his touch.
âcan i make you feel good?â he asked, his voice a low murmur, âneed to make you feel good.â
you swallowed softly, your throat bobbing under his hand. âplease,â you breathed out with a slow nod, âneed you to make me feel good.â
deanâs smile grew, reflecting the soft grin on your own face. wordlessly, dean grabbed your thighs and hoisted you up around him. he pressed gentle kisses along your jawline as he walked you over to the bed, his arms wrapped around you, caging you against his torso.
he laid you down underneath him on the mattress. you looked up at him with big soft eyes, taking in how handsome he looked, despite the obvious exhaustion tugging at his features. he pulled off his flannel and shirt in two quick movements before settling in between your legs.
âbeen thinking about having you like this since we killed that fucking ghost,â dean muttered as his lips found their way back to your neck.
you let out a huff of amusement and lifted your hand to play with the hair at his nape, âmmm, me too.â
deanâs mouth moved down your jaw, sucking on the soft skin at your pulse points along your neck. you moaned quietly, letting your eyes fall shut. dean hummed against your neck, leaving light pink marks wherever he could.
dean finally pulled away and admired his work on your delicate skin. you looked so beautiful; your hair all messy, your lips still swollen, and now your neck all marked up with little bruises. dean groaned to himself, feeling so incredibly lucky that the beautiful creature below him was his.
his hands found the hem of your shirt. âoff. now.â he said firmly, but with a hint of desperation to his voice.
you sat up as dean moved back to give you some room. he helped you peel off your shirt, slowly exposing more of your skin to him. his smile grew once again as he looked at you. âyouâre so fucking beautiful,â he commented again as his hands unhooked your bra and pulled it off you.
you couldnât help the blush that warmed your cheeks as your bra hit the floor beside the bed. dean immediately attached his mouth to your tits, kissing and biting at them, leaving more little marks in his wake.
soft moans and sighs left your lips, your hands once again playing in his short sandy hair. you tugged on it gently, and dean groaned. he looked up at you with a smirk on his lips, âwhat are you doinâ, huh? pulling my hair?â
he grabbed your wrists and held them down against the mattress as his tongue flicked over your nipples. ârelax, baby,â he muttered against your skin.
you let out little gasps as he nibbled at you. you didnât struggle against his grip; instead, you relaxed underneath him and let him carry on kissing and marking up your chest.
his hands held your wrists down firmly against the sheets as he kissed further down your body, groans leaving his lips in response to your soft little noises.
dean kissed and bit his way to the button of your jeans. he glanced up at you, silently asking for permission. you nodded slowly, your eyes on his, and he let go of your wrists, his hands moving to undo your jeans. you kept your wrists by your sides, just watching him with a small smile.
dean pulled your jeans down your legs, leaving you in just your panties. he groaned dramatically and looked back up at you, âfuuuck, iâm so lucky.â
you chuckled softly and shifted your head on the pillow as you looked at him. âiâm so lucky,â you retorted.
he smiled sheepishly and shook his head in response as his fingers hooked under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them off your body. instinctively, you clamped your legs together. dean smirked and shook his head again, âno, baby. donât do that. donât be shy. i know youâre not shy.â
your cheeks blushed at his words, and you smiled as he gently coaxed your thighs apart with his hands.
âkeep them open for me,â he said firmly, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. his eyes were dark, and you could feel the desire radiating off of him in waves. you nodded without a word and let your legs fall open for him.
he groaned when he looked down at the sight of your glistening cunt, âoh, godâŚâ
dean shuffled back into a more comfortable position between your legs, his lips kissing at the skin of your thighs. he nipped at you gently, once again peppering more little marks across your skin.
he moved closer to your core and finally dove in, flicking his tongue against your slick heat, earning a whimpery gasp from you. his eyes shot up to meet yours as his tongue lapped at your clit, kissing, biting and sucking at it. dean couldnât help the little groans that escaped him as he watched your face begin to flush and scrunch in pleasure.
your hips rolled into his face as he sped up his ministrations between your thighs, his tongue flicking over your swollen bud faster. the moans and gentle little sighs that left your mouth sounded like heaven to dean. he wrapped his arms around your thighs and held you down as you got closer and closer to the edge.
âkeep still, sweetheart,â he muttered against your heat, holding down your hips while they flailed around erratically from the building pleasure.
a pathetic whine left your mouth at his muttered words. you tried to move your hips and thighs, desperately searching for your release. dean moaned in response to your neediness and kept lapping at your pussy, wanting to push you over the edge.
you could feel the coil tightening in your stomach. you were so close to just cumming on his tongue. your back arched up off the bed and filthy moans were ripped from your lungs as dean slid two fingers into your cunt, curling them up and pressing them against that spongey little spot that made you see stars.
âd-dean!â you whined and threw your head back against the pillow, âfuck, so closeâŚâ
dean hummed against your clit, the vibrations tightening that tense feeling in your stomach. your hips kept trying to move, searching for more, needing more.
âbe still,â dean murmured against your cunt, his fingers curling faster into you. he moved his free hand from around your thigh to your stomach, draping it over your hips to hold you down firmer.
you whined again and clenched around his fingers, âdean⌠fuck!â
your walls fluttered around his fingers as your release grew closer and closer, the coil in your stomach tightening as his mouth continued its assault on your pussy.
dean moaned against your delicate folds at the way you let your body flail around so desperately for him. he kept his arm draped over you, holding you down as your hips battled against his strength. he lapped at your pussy more intentionally, his tongue circling your clit roughly and expertly.
loud moans flew past your lips as your release washed over you. your pussy clamped down around dean's fingers, gushing over them as he kept up his curling motion, pushing you through your orgasm. his tongue stayed latched to your pussy, practically sucking out the moans and whimpers from your lungs.
as your thighs shook and your hips twitched, dean slowly removed his fingers and sat up onto his knees with a wide grin. âyou're so needy tonight, sweetheart. sâmaking me go crazy seeing you like this,â he hummed, bringing his hand covered in your slick to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean. you clamped your legs together at the sight, feeling the desire rapidly burn through your body as your heart thumped against your ribcage.
dean smirked, chuckling as he leaned over you, trapping you against the mattress. âgonna take you and give you what you need, my pretty girl. gonna make you feel so good,â he said, his voice low and hoarse, but with that hint of cockiness, like he knew he was going to blow your mind.
you panted, still coming down from your climax, as you nodded at his words and watched him begin to pull off his belt. his hands made quick work with his pants, discarding them on the floor with your clothes. you smiled a little lazily, admiring him in the low lighting of the motel room.
âwhatâs that look for, huh?â he questioned with that everlasting smirk on his face. he kept his eyes on you as he pulled down his boxers, letting his pretty pink erection spring free and bounce against his stomach.
you had to physically hold back a moan at the sight. you hummed instead and found his darkened green eyes. ânothing... just need you,â you muttered softly.
dean chuckled lowly to himself and returned to his position above you. âyeah, you need me?â he asked, tilting his head, his lips just inches above yours. he watched your flustered state with an amused expression on his face, feeling his cock throb at the way he could make you crumble so easily beneath him. he needed you so badly. he needed you desperately in this flushed needy little state.
you nodded in response to his question, and his lips found your neck again, this time kissing a little softer as he muttered against your skin between kisses, âmy baby needs me, huh? gotta make her feel good then.â
he rubbed his cock against the inside of your thigh, just teasing you. you shifted your hips, your body moving on its own, searching for relief for your aching core.
you groaned softly, âdean, please⌠câmon.â
dean grinned at your plea, his cock rubbing against your throbbing slit. he grabbed himself, teasingly brushing his pink tip against your clit. pathetic mewls spilled out of your mouth and you glared weakly at him, âdean!â
his sparkling green eyes found yours as he teased you with his cock, tapping your clit one last time. âalright,â dean muttered and prodded your entrance with his tip. he kept his eyes on your face as he slowly pushed himself inside you, inch by inch, your soaking pussy lubricating his stiff cock and welcoming him in.
your wet heat greedily sucked him in, your tight walls fluttering around his length. you gasped and arched your back, feeling him stretch you out slowly.
âthatâs it,â he cooed, âtake it. just like that.â
as dean bottomed out inside your needy cunt, his hands grabbed at your wrists, pinning them above your head, a wicked grin dancing on his face as he hovered above you.
you looked up at him with a pout, your hips moving a little, dying for him to do something. you tested his grip on your wrists. âuh uh uh,â dean tutted, his grip tightening, âweâre gonna do this my way, alright? be good, baby.â
despite your pout, you nodded and watched as he pulled his hips back. he slid back into your pussy, filling the room with filthy squelching sounds as he slowly built a pace, his bulbous pink tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. little slurred moans escaped you as you felt every little vein of his brush against your walls.
âyeah, that's it. so fucking warm and wet. just for me, huh?â dean groaned out with a grin, enjoying how you were already falling apart for him. he watched your jaw drop in pleasure from his quick pace, his hand subconsciously tightening around your wrists.
you nodded pathetically in response as he stretched you out with his thick length. âmmm, only for you,â you replied.
dean let out a rough moan at your words, a warm fuzzy feeling clenching at his chest. god, how he loved you.
he moved faster and deeper into you, and his breath began to become slightly more laboured. âso good. youâre being so good for me...â he grunted out between thrusts.
you felt your walls flutter once again at his praise as your second orgasm built, the familiar heat pooling in your core. you rocked your hips to meet his thrusts, encouraging him to pound deeper into your desperate cunt.
âahh, shit,â he moaned out, feeling you rut against him.
dean let go of your wrists, instead grabbing your hips and pulling them up, arching your back up off the bed. you mewled loudly at the new angle, at the delectable way you could feel him even deeper inside you.
his cock began to brush roughly against your gspot, forcing your walls to flutter around him. dean kept up with his quick thrusts, feeling himself begin to lose composure as his balls tightened at the feeling of your slick heat around him.
âoh, fuck,â he grunted, rocking your hips up to meet his, keeping your back arched up off the bed, âgonna paint your pussy white with my children, baby. swear to god.â
you could barely register what was going on. you looked up at deanâs flushed face with blurred vision from the tears brimming in your eyes. you mewled at the way he bit his lip, trying to stifle his moans that were threatening to spill out.
deanâs ruts into your cunt became quicker and sloppier as both of you veered on the edge of your orgasms. his tight grip on your hips was sure to leave bruises, though you didnât care; the pleasure in itself was enough to let him bruise you all over. dean tugged your lower half even further up into his lap, his cock burying even deeper in your walls.
âahhh, shiâ shit! iâm cumming,â he sputtered out. a strangled moan bubbled up deanâs throat as he finally spilled into your soaked heat, his warm ropes of cum stuffing your weeping pussy.
deanâs release set off your own. you jerked your hips back and forth as he kept thrusting into you, pushing his seed further into your tight hole. you whimpered and whined your way through your high, gushing around his length.
deanâs green eyes watched in sheer reverence as your face scrunched up and your body flailed about in his grip.
âfuck⌠fuuuck, baby,â he panted, his thrusts finally coming to a still, his mouth agape as his chest rose and fell.
the salty little tears in your eyes finally escaped as you came down from your climax, dampening your flushed cheeks. you panted as you returned his gaze.
âoh, shit, sweetheart. you alright?â dean asked quietly, gently lowering you back down onto the mattress. he slipped out of your core with a quiet hiss, and you felt his seed begin to drip out of you.
âmâalright,â you managed to reply in return. you brought a hand to wipe the tears from your pink cheeks.
dean shook his head and pulled your hands away, instead wiping your tears with his own hands. âyou sure? that wasnât too much?â
âno,â you breathed out, letting his tender touch drift over your face, âthat was perfect, dean.â
he nodded at your words and sat back on his knees, letting his eyes fall over your worn out body. âit was, baby. youâre perfect,â he murmured and rubbed at your thighs. he let his gaze fall down to your heat, watching the pearly white liquid escape your wet folds.
âjesus, you really are perfect,â dean repeated. he squeezed the fat of your thighs, and his eyes flickered back up to yours, searching them. his face softened as he silently took in how beautiful you looked.
dean slowly leaned over you, pressing gentle kisses to your jaw and neck, tasting the salty flavour of your sweat on his tongueânot minding the taste at all.
âlet me look after you,â he murmured almost pleadingly against your neck, âlet me run you a bath, sweetheart.â
you hummed and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin. âmmâkay,â you nodded, âa bath with you and then we get takeout and eat in here?â
dean huffed a laugh against your neck, âbaby, you read my mind. bath and then pizza in bed, how does that sound?â
âperfect.â
âmm, perfect,â he echoed back, âalright, let me get you up.â
dean pressed one final kiss below your ear and pulled back, smiling down at you. he looked so incredibly in love, and it made your heart stutter in your chest.
you returned the smile, and dean hopped off the bed, wiping the sweat from his forehead, before scooping your boneless body up into his arms. your warm sticky skin stuck together as he walked into the bathroom, pressing soft tender kisses to the side of your head.
âi love you so much, yâknow?â he mumbled into your hair as he kicked the bathroom door shut with his foot.
âyeah, âcourse i know. i love you too, dean.â
fig yaps: okay so this took ages to write,, it lived in my drafts for like three months cause i never write longer things (blame the adhd!!!) and i feel like itâs not even that manhandle-y LMAODKSJK anyways i love dean thatâs all !!
reblogs and feedback are welcome and encouraged! thank uuu <3
⊠taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @aileenunfiltered @minettacreekk @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @floralscented @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @misatxox @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @starzify @whisperingdaze @dulcescorderitas @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate @k-slla
âą ... dean winchester ... âą 18+ MDNI inspired by this gif
"Yeahhh you just like to take it, huh. Fucked so dumb and deep all you can do is drool on my hand."
You moaned against the palm he had pressing against your mouth to muffle your whines, completely immobilized by the press of Dean's body against yours. His mouth was hot against your ear, forcing your eyes to meet his regardless of the strain. His cock slipped into you easily, the angle and your slick making his head catch on your spot with every thrust.
"So fuckin' cute like this. Actin' like a brat when all you wanna be is daddy's little girl."
So this is what you get for acting a little too needy, acting like he doesn't treat you right. You were just trying to have a little fun, coax him into fucking you hard on the couch, but after he didn't bite... then it was personal. All day, making goading comments, acting like you don't have a man that caters to your every whim and whose favorite activity is being nose deep in your cunt. Dean didn't like that very much, but was happy to play dumb enough that you'd get yourself into some real trouble. Fucking spoiled, is what you are.
Your hips bucked, trying to escape the deep pressure of his cock.
"Nuh, uh, sweetheart. This is what you wanted, right? My cock and my attention? Well now you fuckin' got it."
It felt like he was touching you everywhere, his voice sending vibrations through your ear and down your throat. When your feet started kicking up, trying to wiggle free from the stimulation, he widened his legs, locking his ankles above yours to keep you still. All of his body weight landed squarely on you, and the warm hug of restriction slowly soothed your body into submission.
"Yeah, there you go, honey. Not so smart now," he cooed, still bullying your pussy. "Kind of pathetic how easy it is to shut you up, how quick you give in. Just takes a couple inches of cock."
Your eyes rolled back, too fucked out to protest that what he's giving you is a little more than a couple inches. Your mouth went slack in his hand, and feeling your pitiful little gasps against his palm only spurred him on.
"What? Got nothin' to say?"
You moaned, the drool leaking out of your mouth becoming evident when he switched his grip to your neck.
"How about 'thank you, daddy, for treating me exactly how I asked you to.'"
The words came out embarrassingly slurred. You fought your way through, trying to show him you are appreciative of the way he is claiming you right now. Every part of you feels like it's his when he fucks you like this. Not just the position, but the way he's showing you that he'll always give you exactly what you need. His hand snaked around to play with your clit. You felt yourself gush around him, impossibly more pliant underneath his strong body.
"Can you take a little more f'me?"
Without waiting to hear your answer he slid his middle finger in alongside his cock, groaning into your ear when he feels you stretch around him. His long digit rubbed at your spot, as if he wasn't hitting it before, and you felt him smile into your neck at the way you thrashed underneath him.
"C'mon, honey. I'm just givin' you what you asked for. All you gotta do is cum out some of this attitude and we'll call it even."
His fingers prodded at you relentlessly, his cock still shoving it's way it. All the fight left your body when his thumb started circling your clit.
"Yeahhh, that's all you needed, huh? Pussy just needed some of dad's attention." He drew the pleasure from you in pulsing waves, your cunt fluttering around his finger and cock as he fucked you through it. "There you go, honey. Cummin' around dad's cock like a good girl." His thrusts stayed unhurried, enjoying the feeling of your warm, spasming pussy. The only sign he was getting close was the way he started babbling, his filter and restraint completely gone.
"Love fuckin' this little pussy honey, sucks me in all nice even when she's pretending to be a fuckin' brat. Know just what to do to get her all warm 'n welcoming. Need to fuck her more to teach her how bad she needs her dad's cock. She should feel empty whenever I'm not fillin' her up to the brim. Need'a get a little plug to keep her all full've my cum even when I can't be there for her. Gonna breed her nice 'n deep so she can't forget who she belongs to, who she's gotta listen to. I'm gonna-- fuck."
You felt him paint you deep inside, his grip on your neck moving back to lock around your mouth. He fucked back into you, groaning when a little bit of his spend dribbled out.
"Remember how you feel right now next time you try to say I don't treat you right."
Dean's hand didn't move from your mouth, and you had a feeling it wouldn't until he decided he was done with you.
đ¤¨đłď¸âđ | THE BOYS 5.03
Sort of been writing a little fic about Ben becoming a dad 𼲠idek how to use tumblr but hereâs a moodboard I made đ
Only Us
Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist
Read on A03!
Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, fluff, pre-established relationship, lotta smut (handjobs, oral f!receiving, p in v sex)
Summary/Warnings: After Dean gets back from a long hunt, the only thing he wants to do is see you.
Author's Note: Request from @daddymaster21! Gotta let men be horny and fluff too, guys. Equality.
Word Count: 3.4k
It had been a damn long week.Â
All weeks were long weeks. Each one stretched itself thin enough that Dean felt like he going to snap, and by the end of the line, he and Sammy were more than ready to pack it up and head home.
But this week had been longer. Thinner. Every single breath had felt heavier than usual in his chest, and every single step had been fighting gravity. Sammy had been in resting bitch face since the first night, when they found out that theyâd gotten two twin beds, and his legs would have to hang off the sides. Dean just hadnât been damn sleeping, and the coffee had been shit, and he might have chopped off the vamps head a bit more aggressively than usual, but the hunt just couldnât be done fast enough.
He missed his bed. His kitchen, and shower, and TV.Â
He missed his girl.
That was why this hunt had sucked ass. Why it had been a shitshow, front to back. She wouldnât have let them mess up the motel room. She wouldâve made the coffee better. Dean wouldâve been able to fucking sleep, because She wouldâve been in his arms. But Sheâd also broken her ankle a few weeks ago, and heâd be a more damned man that he already was, if he let Her wander into the line of fire. So Sheâd been put on book-duty, and Dean had been left aloneâwith Sammy, who didnât countâfor too damn long.Â
Sheâd been bouncing off the walls, too. First phone call he got, Sheâd been whining about not being able to move. And heâd smiled at the ceiling, and told Her than once she could run again, heâd let her come back.Â
And it had only gotten worse. Sheâd been restless, Dean knew Sheâd be restless, but it just made him miss Her more. If he was home, he could let Her sit with him while he worked on Baby, and give Her shit to do. They could go for a drive, and She could choose whatever they did. He could make Her dinner, instead of hearing about how Sheâd had macaroni for the fifth night in a row.Â
He loved Her. He missed Her. She was going to hit him or something, and heâd welcome it, because heâd be able to grab Her hand and pull her into a deep, long kiss.Â
âNo hunts for a week.â Sam grumbled as they finally turned onto the bunkerâs drive. âIâm going to see Eileen in the morning. I know youâre going to be gross.â
Dean mock gasped. âIâve never been gross in my freakinâ life-â
Sam cut him off with a flat look. âLast time you guys were separated this long, you broke the table.â
âIt was a weak table.â Dean grinned at the air. He was going to break more than a table this time. He didnât love his bed frame. The wall could use some repainting. Maybe they could get a new couch, too-
âCan you at least wait until Iâm gone?â Sam sighed, and Dean shrugged, turning off the engine with an even wider grin.Â
âNo promises.â
Sam groaned, but there was no point sticking around to hear more complaints. They were home. She was waiting for him inside, and they had a whole week to catch up on, and Dean wasnât going to just sit and listen to Sammy bitch about safe sex and how expensive furniture is when he could rush out of the car, and run downstairs.Â
He shouted Her name the moment he opened the door, and didnât get a response.
There was the brief moment of fear. Cold and raw fear that something bad had happened, and She was gone. But all the lights were off in the library, all the spare cars had been in the garage, and they were home a day earlier than planned.Â
It was also two in the morning.Â
She was probably just in bed. Everything was fine.Â
More than fine.Â
Everything was pretty freaking awesome, because Dean opened the door to their room, and She was right where heâd left Her. The whole room was a bit tidierâSheâd been stress cleaning againâand She was wearing his shirt as she curled into the sheets, but it could be as if heâd never left at all.Â
He tried not to disturb Her, as he shuffled into the room. Shedding all his dirtied clothing and kicking off his shoes, before slowly crawling into bed and grinning down at Her in the dark. She was beautiful. She was always beautiful, but there was something about this that made him feel like he was looking at an angel. Better than an angel. Something actually holy and perfect, that he shouldnât be allowed to see. With hair messy and lips parted, all Her features relaxed and cast in pretty shadows.Â
Dean probably looked like a creep, just sitting here and staring.
He didnât really give a shit.Â
Not when he reached down to pull a little hair out of Her mouth and She rolled over, wrapping Her arms around his torso. Her face pressed into his side, Dean tried to carefully move Her awayâhe needed to lie down, and pull Her onto his chestâand She let out most adorable grunt of annoyance in the damn world.
âSweetheart,â he whispered, trying again, and She only gripped him tighter. âDamnit, baby, I gotta move-â
She grumbled something incoherent, and Dean sighed, raising his voice slightly.Â
âAlright, câmon-â
âDean?â She rolled over to look at him, blinking in the dark, and son of a bitch, he was the luckiest asshole alive. âYouâre home?â
âYeah, baby. âS me.â
âSam-â She yawned, Her eyes remaining somehow narrowed on his. âSam said you be home tomorrow-â
âWe wrapped up early.â He shrugged, giving Her a tiny smile as he tried to move Her again.Â
And she didnât cling to him this time.Â
But She didnât go easily either.Â
Dean grunted as She sat suddenly up, tackling him with a surprising amount of strength for someone whoâd been asleep three minutes ago. Throwing Her arms fully around his neck and burying Her face in his shoulder. Deanâs arms flew up to hold Her, and she hummed happily, squeezing him a little tighten.Â
âMissed you,â She mumbled against his skin, and Deanâs grin grew.
âMissed you too, sweetheart. Long hunt without you.â
âHm.â She pulled back with a small frown, taking Deanâs face between soft hands and turning it for examination.Â
âIâm in one piece,â he said Her name, his grins never faltering, and She sighed, dropping Her face back to his shoulder.
âStill wanna check.â
âDonât worry, Sammy didnât let me run into traffic.âÂ
She made a light humphing sound, and Dean kissed the side of Her head.Â
âGood week without us botherinâ you?â
âNo.â She grumbled. âThis place is too big, Dean, it was so boring.â
He chuckled, rubbing firm circles on Her back, and this was why heâd wanted to come home so damn bad. She fit perfectly in his arms, and the bed didnât damn matter as long as She was the one he was sharing it with. Â
And the other thing, too.Â
The one that heâd been more than ready to let wait for morning, because Sheâd obviously been tired, and theyâd have the whole bunker to themselves.Â
The one that She seemed to be more than ready for now, with the way She was starting to grind into his lap and kiss over his neck.
âBaby,â he muttered. âYou donât have to- You can go back to bed-â
âDo you want me to go back to bed?â She leaned back, giving him a small smile, and he sighed.
âItâs late-â
âWeâve gone all night before,â She kissed his jaw, and a warm little rush spread through his whole body. Right into his cock, already starting to grow uncomfortable at the feeling of Her perfect ass rolling over it. And Her breasts were pressed against his chest and begging to be played with, and She wasnât-Â
Dean grunted Her name, his hands flying to Her hips. âYouâre not wearing underwear.â
âWas only me home.â She mumbled, and he fought down a groan when Her lips brushed over his neck. âMightâve missed you a lot.â
Son of a bitch. Now that image was pushing its way into his headâHer splayed out on the sheets, Her hand between her legs as She wore Deanâs shirt, and called out Deanâs nameâand the strain of his erection grew painful.Â
âWe donât have to.â She mumbled, pulling back to meet his gaze. âIf you donât wanna, Dean, you can just-â
Dean pulled Her down into a long, firm kiss, and it was impossible to deny Her. Not when heâd been away this long, and heâd spent his own share of nights in the shower, thinking about this exact moment and fisting his cock in his hand. Her lips parted so easily for him, when he pressed his tongue into Her mouth. And when he let his hand wander down to squeeze Her ass, She made a breathy sound that made him sort of dizzy.Â
âI wanna,â he muttered, moving his lips down to kiss along Her throat. âYou have no idea, sweetheart, itâs all Iâve been thinkinâ about. But youâre tired-â
She shook Her head, wiggling in his grip. âNo, âm not.â
Dean pulled back, giving Her a flat look. âYou were dead asleep-â
âAwake now,â She shrugged, holding his gaze, and Dean was too lost in how damn pretty She lookedâswollen lips and messy hair and hisâto realize what Her hand, trailing lazily down his chest, was aiming for. Not until She palmed him over his underwear, and the rush of it hit him like a train.
And She moved slowly. Gave him time to stop Her.Â
But Dean was almost under some sort of spell. Trapped in Her gaze and the feeling of Her hand, pulling him out and starting to slowly stroke him. It was torture. Perfect goddamn torture, his body melting into the sheets and his breathing growing labored as the entire world narrowed to just Her. Her handsâSheâd leaned back, taking his cock in both damn hands and making his hips jerk upâworking him until sleep really was the last damn thing to worry about. She looked at him so sweetly, with a borderline awe as a groan of Her name escaped his throat, and Sheâd goddamn straddled his thigh, grinding against it as Dean lost himself in the numbing pleasure from just Her damn hands.
She was building him right to the edge. There was that tension in his body, and it was going to snap if he didnât stop it. And She was fucking soaked against his thigh, looked so pretty and needy, and he needed to feel Her. Needed to give Her anything She wanted, and then whatever he had left to offer.
He surged up without a warning, crashing his mouth over Herâs and pulling Her hands away from his cock with a groan. There was brief strain of frustration, but heâd get over it. He might just cum without friction, if She kept this up. Her arms wrapping around his neck in half a second as She met his kiss with the same starved fervor, and Her legs hooking over his waist as he lowered Her onto her back, kissing Her deep into the mattress.Â
She giggled, when he moved to kiss Her neck. And it was the high, breathless giggle he knew too well. It meant She was desperate for him, and it always went straight to his dick, and goddamnit he couldnât deny Her the world if she asked for it. Heâd been a goner the moment Sheâd decided to kiss him instead of just passing out.Â
âNot tired, huh?â He muttered, and She hummed.Â
âNo.â She squirmed below him, hips pressed right against his still throbbing cock, and he had to grit his teeth to keep it the fuck together. âDean, please-â
He kissed Her again, going and going with teeth and tongue until She was panting and scratching his back. âThink I can make you tired, baby girl?â
She moaned, nodding and blinking up at him under fluttering lashes. The only thing that stopped him from blowing it right there was the promise of, after, burying himself inside her and finishing with Her wrapped around him.Â
He could hold it off. Keep himself in control, with a last, softer kiss on Her lips and wink as he started to make his way down Her body.Â
But goddamnit, She was a sight to behold. The best thing to taste in the damn world. Dean helped Her out of his shirt, and She was so soft, Her tits bouncing perfectly against Her chest. Her back arched off the bed as he took Her nipple in his mouth, sucking until a loud, pleading gasp left Her, and he switched to the other one.Â
There was no rush. They had nothing but time. And Dean was going to use it. Work Her right up to the edge as well as he could, make it easier for Her to take him and Her own release strong enough to make Her putty in his arms. He goddamn loved it. How She trusted him enough to touch Her like this, how he was the only one who got to touch Her like this, all the little sounds She made when he kissed over Her navel and trailed two fingers between the dripping, puffy lips of Her pussy.Â
Nothing compared to the sounds She made when he latched his mouth around Her clit though. And he could get high of the squeaking plea of his name, as he slowly pushed two fingers into Her cunt and she clenched around him. He could die here, with Her thighs trying to suffocate him and the taste of Her arousal on his tongue. He crooked his fingers, rubbing on that sweet spot inside of Her as he sucked Her clit, and she was going to yank his hair out of his damn scalp.
âFuck, Dean-â She cut herself off with another moan, and it fucking hurt, how much he needed Her. He couldnât stop himself groaning, working his tongue in tiny flicks until She moaned again and started to grind onto his face.Â
It was an effort, to stop himself from fucking to mattress. But She was so goddamn warm against his face, wet and tight around his fingers, and he knew that sound She was making. She was close. Dean was getting Her close, and he wanted to fucking feel it when She came.Â
He forced himself back and She whined, pouting up at him in the dark. âThatâs mean.â
âSorry, baby girl.â He hummed, grinning at Her as he wiped his face.Â
She looked like she was going to argue with him, but Dean just held Her gaze, and sucked his fingers clean. He knew his girl.
That always fucking got Her.
And there was nothing better in the world than watching Her mouth fall open, Her legs spreading mindlessly in an invitation for him to take. To have Her and throw everything into it, to let Dean make Her feel good.Â
He always did. It made him feel bigger, when he did. He never did anything between his hands or mouth than use them for Her. Theyâd been stained and angry, and heâd been twisted and tired, but She still loved him like that. And She was beautiful and smart, so he couldnât really get any better than something She loved.Â
And She was never prettier than when She was ruined. Completely devoid of all the nervous tension Dean still loved, but made Her wired and anxious.Â
So Dean felt a little bigger than fucking God, when he got to lean over and kiss Her gently, and She reacted to his every touch. Arching and Leaning into his, tracing Her hands over his chest and setting off a fire in his gut, whispering a soft plea of his name.Â
Dean would do anything for Her.Â
And he when She said his name like that, heâd have to be a sorry asshole to keep teasing Her. So he drew back with his brows raised, and She gave him a tiny nod.Â
âWanna feel you,â She mumbled, hands trailing through his hair, and he groaned, diving back for another kiss.Â
Sheâd been a menace around his fingers.Â
Around his cock, he never felt like he could be anywhere better. She fit him perfectly. Took him perfectly, with parted lips and a small gasp as he slid home. He tried to make it easierâif She kept squeezing him like that, he was going to cum like a fucking teenagerâand rose up, angling Her hips better.Â
That was it. At first. He could see Her tits bounce as She whimpered for him to move, and rub Her clit in tight circles to try and relax Her further.Â
But Sheâd been restless. And She started to squirm, and he wasnât going to last. The friction combined with the feeling of Her, he was going to goddamn lose it.Â
So he flipped Her over and kissed up Her spine, sliding back and watching Her writhe with a firm grip on Her ass. But She was trying to damn kill him, and started to push further back so his cock bumped so deep inside Her it felt like She was swallowing him, and they had to move again.
He tried to lower back down over Her bodyâpinning Her to the mattressâbut Her pussy fluttered around him, and he couldnât stop the jerk of his hips. A gasping moan leaves Her and he grunted, kissing against Her neck.
âSorry, baby-â
âMore.â She gasped, twisting Her face to kissing Dean until he was pretty damn sure he was flying, his hips piston in and out of Her in desperate movement. âNeed more, Dean, feels so good-â
âFuck,â he grunted, and She was going to kill him.Â
He rolled them over so She was above him, but he felt like he was on fire and didnât have enough strength to stop Her from bouncing on his cock. He was going to cum, but She wasnât there yet, and he wanted to watch Her fall over the edge with him-Â
âJesus, sweetheart.â He grunted, pushing up so She was in his lap and caged against his chest, and this was it. She threw Her head back against his shoulder with a moan, lashes fluttering and mouth wide open, and heâd never seen anything hotter in his life.Â
âDean,â She gasped, melting into him as he rolled his hips against Her, and She squeezed him like a goddamn vice. âPlease, youâre- So big-â
âShit- Iâve got you.â He kissed up Her neck, grunting when She captured his mouth and Her nail dug into his arm. The pain was more like little lightning bolts through his body, and he was going to explode. âThink you can cum with me, baby girl? Cum all over my cock, let me feel you-â
She nodded, and Dean found Her clit, pressing and playing with it until She was gasping his name and squirming in his grip and-
âDean-â
âCâmon, sweetheart.â He grunted, and the tension in him was set to snap again. âCome for me, you can do it-â
She screamed his name, Her release seeming to wrack Her whole body, and Dean lost it. The view of Her in his arms, calling his name and going slack with pleasure, combined with the feeling of Her cumming around him, tipped him over the edge.
He fucked Her through their dual release, too far gone to stop until She was curled back into his chest, and the last of his release was dribbling down Her thighs.Â
If She wasnât already snuggling into his arms, that might have gotten him ready for round two.Â
But this was pretty goddamn good too. Pulling out Her with a hiss from the loss of warmth, kissing Her brow before carrying Her to the bathroom. She used to toilet while he changed the sheets, almost falling off the seat when Dean returned and scooped Her into his arms.Â
âDean.â She mumbled against his shoulder, and he grunted an acknowledgment. ââM sleepy.â
He chuckled, and he could feel his own exhaustion starting to press on his shoulders.Â
There were far worse things to be tired from, though.Â
âI know,â he murmured Her name, and kissed the top of Her head. âLetâs go to bed.â
End Note: Dean I'm never going to let the spn writers hurt you. As long as you're with me you'll get pussy and fluff, and that's a promise.
If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3
Buy me a coffee!âď¸
Taglist (Fill out this form to be added!)
@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24
@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr
@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1
@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused
@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @jackles010378 @godhelpthisbtch
@ilovedeanwinchester4 @sleepykittycx @immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @maddie0101
@chi-raz @lori19 @wynnthewynnderful @redwinexsupernova @tiana-kh
@woaheasytig3r @canibeyourghoulfriend @lovelywebber @salemslostwitch @winchester-whiskey
@and-i-wish @jsudsgf @fullbelieverheart @wowzabowza69 @bonbonnie88
@pillowjj @barnes70stark @kamisobsessed @happyfxckinghorrors @deans-yn
@jofinka

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Don't Let This Pass
Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist
Read on A03!
Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, friends to lovers, humor, forced proximity, fluff, smut (oral f and m receiving, p in v sex,), light angst, love confessions
Summary/Warnings: Dean is your best friend, and nothing more, no matter how much you want that to be different.
But he's trying to tell you something. And when you get trapped together for a week, he finally gets the chance.
Author's Note: Request from an anon! I lost my goddamn mind.
Word Count: 17.7k
âAre you smelling this, sweetheart?â
âYeah,â you sigh, wrinkling your nose as another blob of something drifts past your feet. âWeâre standing next to each other, Dean.â
Dean points his flashlight up, enough for you to see his grin in the dark. âYou remember when Sammy farted last month, then pretended it was my Baby leaking something?â
You snort, kicking away something strangely hard that you donât want to think about. âYeah?â
âLeast this still isnât that bad.â
You look up to give him a flat, amused look, and freeze.Â
âDean-â
âCâmon, heâs not here-â
âNo, Dean, fuck-â
You grab out your gun, aim it right over his shoulder, and shoot.Â
The last swamp monster thuds into the water, and Dean stares at you with wide eyes.
âUh, how close was I to beinâ a swap snack?â
You shrug, giving him a small smile. âDonât undervalue yourself, dude. You would have been swamp dinner.â
Dean snorts, wading through the water to your side, and rests his hand on your back. Thereâs no real reason for him to do that. Youâre standing up just fine. No serious injuries. No panic.Â
Heâs just touching you. Casually. The way he always has, without thought, because he trusts you enough not to turn around and try to cut off his hand.Â
And itâs always driven you out of your mind.Â
Deanâs casually put his hand on your body since you met him. Since the first hunt, where he and Sam saved the helpless little vampire victim, and you tried to shoot them because you didnât know that the people carrying machetes were the good guys. Dean had put his hand on your upper arm and lower back, helped you to your feet, and been the most beautiful thing youâd ever seen.Â
You can still feel where he touched you, all those years ago. Itâs branded a level right under your skin, the lightening and fire sensation of a broad, rough hand being so gentle on your skin. And every time heâs touched you since, youâve still been able to feel it. Sinking deeper and deeper, spreading and growing with every accidental brush of his hand and shoulder bump and time youâve been pressed right against him on a hunt. Itâs going to burn forever. You donât want it to go out, even if it drives you out of your mind.Â
Days the bunker is empty, and you lock the door to your room with your legs spread. Whenever he makes youâand Sam, but thatâs not importantâbreakfast. If youâre watching a movie, and he puts his arm over your shoulder because heâs comfortable. Every time he whispers a joke in your ear, grins so wide when you laugh. Every fucking night you have to spend in the same room with him, pretending you donât feel like youâre burning alive with a light that wonât flicker out.Â
Most motels donât offer three beds. So there are times where the couch fits Deanânever Sam, and youâre not allowed to sleep on the couch because theyâre dumbasses who think theyâre gentlemenâand times where you just have to suck it up and share.Â
Sharing with Sam is fine. You canât grind into the sheets as the fire sweeps into your coreâDean likes to walk out of the shower without a shirt, and he might hate youâbecause fucking Sam is right on the other side of the bed.Â
When you share with Dean, itâs⌠different.Â
You canât fuck yourself then, either. But it becomes unbearable. Your body seems to ache, just to touch him. Sometimes the light will be angled just right through the window, and youâll be able to watch the passing headlights of the cars drift over his pretty face.Â
Because Deanâs face is still so fucking beautiful. Itâs one of those few things you know will never change.Â
But you donât want anything to change. Change is the thing that leaves you alone, dead in the water, trying to use the stars to guide yourself when the sky is pitch black. Youâve never been good at it. When you joined hunting, it took months for you to fully adjust just to living in the bunker.Â
Dean had gotten you through that. Made you comfortable. Taught you how to hold a gun, and throw a punch, and made you waffles when youâd finally managed to knock him on his ass.Â
âI know you went easy on me,â youâd told him, spraying the whip cream on your plate, and heâd chuckled.Â
âDonât know what youâre talking about, sweetheart.â
âItâs okay,â youâd shrugged. âNext time you can go all out, and Iâll still win.â
Dean had grinned at you, and youâd felt that heat rising to your cheeks. It wasnât fair how he could do that. How youâd gotten so good at being around him and not acting like just one word in your direction made you feel high. At this point it had just been a crush, on the big handsome man who saved your life.Â
Even then, it had still felt like a massive, consuming type of crush. The kind like a tree, that wouldnât stop rooting into your heart and growing. The kind that youâd known would get you in trouble, if you werenât careful.Â
âSure you will.â Dean had reached for the whipped cream can, and youâd whacked his hand with it. âHey, câmon-â
âIâm not done.â Youâd finished the pile with a little swirl, and passed him the can with a smile.Â
Heâd stared at you, then the whipped cream mountain. âYou trying to drown yourself?â
âMaybe.âÂ
Dean had reached forward, taken some on his fingerâruining the artwork, but it had been Dean, so you were never madâand dabbed it on your nose. Heâd laughed at your glare, and youâd tried to bite his finger.Â
It had just made him laugh harder.Â
âYou look cute.â Heâd said, lookin back to his own waffle, and it had been like being shot up with fire.Â
He thought you were cute. Dean thought you were cute. And heâd touched you again. And maybe if youâd asked him to, he could have kissed you and you could run your hand through his hair and taste the salt of his sweat, and he could show you how to do a few other moves, right here at the table, and-Â
âYou good?â Heâd asked you, and heâd sounded concerned. Not starved for you, just worried. Like a friend would be.Â
And you didnât want anything to change. This was already better than you could have dared to ask for.Â
So youâd smiled at him, and nodded.Â
And nothing ever had to be different.
Friends.Â
You were so fucking lucky just to be his friend. The one-night stands came and went, and you were still here, with Dean. You could take that.Â
Take it, and use it to kindle all that heat in your body. Burn it and burn it until it was ash.Â
Keep pretending that your hunger and fever for Dean would ever go out, when you know that this is forever.Â
Youâve known it was love since you were in a diner, almost a year ago, and he made the waitress get you the childrenâs coloring mat, because it had crossword puzzles and you didnât want to ask.Â
âDonât bother her, Dean
âIâm not bothering her, sweetheart, itâs asking her to carry freakinâ paper-â
âNo, itâs stupid, Iâll get a newspaper-â
âWeâll get you a newspaper after.â He shrugged, giving you a shockingly serious look. âBut itâs not stupid. Youâre not stupid. Weâre getting that kids mat.â
Youâd flushed, and nodded. And you loved him.Â
Love him.Â
Now, even in the swamp monster mess, his touch and attention do the exact same thing to you. Itâs going to drive you out of your mind, one day. But you donât want to try and stop it.Â
That would mean moving yourself away from Dean, where he couldnât touch you. And it might not even do anything, but make you miss him. Make things change.Â
So youâll lean slightly into his touchâjust in caseâand smile at him in the dark.Â
When he smiles back, itâs like the whole world lights up.Â
And you never want that to change either.Â
âYou think we need to clean this shit up?â He nods around you, making a face as a fresh wave of swamp-stench drifts through the air, and you shake your head.Â
âCan I suggest an alternate plan?â
Dean nods. âYou know I love a backup, sweetheart.â
You flush again, bowing your head to make sure he wonât see. âI vote we just blow it up.â
âThatâs a plan.â He bumps your shoulder, and you can hear the joy in his voice. âIâm team blow it up.â He pauses. âCan I-â
âYeah.â You smile at your feet. âYou can do the work.â
âAwesome.â He starts to walk towards the exit, and all you can do is follow him. âThen weâll get all this shit off us.â
You hum an agreement, and try not to pick apart his happiness too much. Itâs always good when Dean is happy, but youâve developed a bad habit of trying to pinpoint why. If he gets excited when you buy him pie because you bought him pie, or itâs pie. If he grins at you when he sees you because heâs happy to see you, or just to see a friend.Â
If he just wants to use his grenade launcher, or if heâs happy you gave him a reason to.Â
It never gets you anywhere, to think of that. And no matter what conclusion you draw, itâs never going to change anything. Â
But itâs still a fun way to torture yourself. Watching him with a smile as he blasts the old cabin, and the whole thing goes crashing down. Returning his thumbs up with a smile, and giving him a high five when he walks back to the car.Â
âAnother monster, ganked.â He puts the launcher back in the truck, and you hum.Â
âAnd itâs a swamp monster. Big day for you.â
He chuckles, shaking his head. âYeah, guess it is. Didnât really think about that.â
You blink at him. âReally?â
âYeah.â He shrugs, giving you an odd smile you donât really understand. âGuess I was worrying about other shit.â
âOther-â
âCâmon.â He raises his voice over yours, grabbing your arms and starting to herd you towards the passengerâs seat. âWe gotta get you back to the motel. Youâre gonna catch a cold.â
âMe?â You frown at him. âYouâll get one too, Winchester-â
âNah. I donât catch colds.â
You snort as he closes the door behind you. You wait for him to get behind the wheel before youâre leaning forward, raising your brows.Â
âEveryone gets colds, Dean.â
âNot me.â He winks at you, turning on the engine. âI run hot, baby.â
Jesus.Â
Thatâs like being doused in gasoline and struck with a match. It is freezing outsideâswamp monsters somehow ended up in Montanaâand you are drenched in something worse than water, but all you can feel is the wired heat under your skin, as you play that over and over in your head.Â
Itâs just another moment, that means nothing to Dean and everything to you.Â
But there are so many of them. They make up the tapestry of Dean, that lines your ribs. Remind you over and over that you love him, and every bit of his happinessâwhether youâre the direct cause or notâis a rare, priceless gift he gives to so few people.
Dean does love you.Â
As a best friend.Â
You really can pretend thatâs enough, just as long as it never has to change.Â
Dean opens the door to the motel room for you, with a wide, smug grin. âYou want first shower?â
âSure, but-â You flick a chuck of Swamp Monster off his shoulder with a pointed look. âI think you need it more.â
âIâve been covered in worse.â He shrugs. âYou go, I gotta call Sammy and give him the update.â
âDean, heâs on vacation, donât bother him-â
âHe can pick up the damn phone at the beach.â Dean rolls his eyes. âEileen wonât care. Go shower, sweetheart.â
You sigh, but give in. Once Dean decides something like thatâyou arenât holding your pee for the rest of the drive, they will find a diner that serves Samâs stupid rabbit food, this place does have a broken heater and Deanâs going to goddamn fix itâthereâs no talking him out of it.Â
And the shower is nice. Warm. The motel shampoo actually smells like something for onceâflowers, nice, sweet flowersâand they water is loud enough that, if you lean against the wall and let your hand wander between your legs, Dean wonât be able to hear it.Â
He never hears it. He doesnât know that youâd get on your knees for him, if he ever asked. That youâd sleep in his bed and hold him through every nightmare, if he let you.Â
Dean doesnât know that you have to bite your tongue to swallow moans, as you think of his hands so easily on your body, and the deep sound of his voice as he said baby, and his eyes, shining on yours. Youâve pictured them above you too many times. Glinting and blown out, as he unravels you below him. Or under you, fluttering and squeezing tight as you ride him. And heâd buck his hips up into you, driving deeper and deeper, and when you moan his name heâd drag you down into a kiss, and all this heat would finally burst into a firework-
You shake, tossing your head back as your release hits. Itâs a small one. Youâre too tired to do anything properly, and even angling your clit under the water didnât do as much as you wanted it to. You donât manage to swallow the squeak of Dean, but the water is still running. You barely heard it. â
And as you walk out of the bathroom, Deanâs still on the phone.Â
Youâre in the clear.Â
He scans over you with a tight frown, and you raise your brows. He just shakes his head, pointing to the phone, and you nod, shuffling over to the bed.
âListen, uh- Sammy. Sam.â Dean shoots you another look. âI gotta go, man, shower is open- No, Iâm not gonna- Sam.â His voice lowers to a hiss, and you smile to yourself. Thatâs the shut your face voice. Samâs probably trying to convince him to do something. âNo, I ainât calling you after, bitch, I donât- Fucking Christ. Yeah. I know.â
He hangs up, and you glance at him, having settled on your bed with a book.
âNot saying bye?â
âHe doesnât deserve it.â Dean grumbles, moving to his feet.Â
âWhat did he do-â
âDonât worry about it.â
âWell,â you wrinkle your nose, leaning forward. âNow I am worried.â
He sighs, running a hand over his face. âItâs not a big thing, sweetheart. Iâll tell you tomorrow.â
âOr, you could tell me now.â
âI, uh- gotta shower.â He makes for the bathroom, and you raise your voice after him.Â
âDean-â
âTomorrow!â He calls over his shoulder, and closes the door behind him.Â
You sigh, looking back to your book. Itâs probably nothing. Dean doesnât keep big secrets, not from you. If it was something for you to be worried about, heâd probably have told you already, to try and convince you to lay low at the bunker while he and Sam handled it. Your bet is on another hunt, that Samâs trying to send you on.Â
Nothing big.Â
Just more time you get to spend, only you and Dean.Â
Dean mutters your name from the doorway, and when you look up, your breath hitches in your throat.Â
Thereâs steam, billowing out of the bathroom and casting in a halo-like light. His hair is damp and spikey and soft looking, his bare chest looking almost goldenâyou donât know how he tans, when you all live in a fucking basementâand water running over his muscles. And youâve dreamed about pressing your face into his pecs, or scratching at his abs while he kisses you, or kissing over that V before he grabs your hair and pulls you back and stuffs your mouth with-Â
You cough, and force your attention back to your book. You canât look at him too long, or youâll do something really stupid like beg him to fuck you stupid.Â
âYeah, Dean?â Your voice isnât steady, but he doesnât seem to notice.Â
âI, uh-â Dean coughs, and you risk a glance up to see him scratching the back of his neck. âYou know we ganked those gross assholes real fast. Thought weâd be here longer. And Sam says thereâs a story coming, tomorrow, so weâre gonna have to hit the road in the morning.â
âStorm? What storm?â You frown at him, and he gives you an oddly sheepish grin.
âSnow-storm. Supposed to be bordering on a blizzard or something. âLess we wanna be stuck here for least a week, we should haul ass soon.â
âOh.â A week stuck in a motel with Dean doesnât sound that bad. It would be torture, but the kind of torture that youâd get a thrill out of. The kind that could fuel a lot of dreams for months to come.Â
Or everything could get fucked up. Heâd get sick of you. Youâd moan his name in your sleep. Too many things could change, if you were stuck together.Â
Itâs best if you go in the morning.Â
âI, um-â You bite on your inner cheek, watching him carefully. âIs that was you were talking to Sam about?â
Dean blinks at you, then nods slowly. âYeah. Sure.â
âSure?â
âSure.â He shrugs. âThatâs what we talking about, sweetheart. The storm.â
You narrow your eyes at himâheâs being weird, and you donât believe himâbut Dean only clears his throat and gives you another grin.
âAnd since we gotta go in the morning, I was ho- Uh, wondering. If youâd wanna get a drink.â
You frown at him again. âWe have beers in the fridge, Dean.â
âYeah. We do.â He mutters, throat bobbing, and youâve never seen him like this. Looking at the floor a lot. Not walking around with a puffed-out chest and mastered, cowboy swagger. Like he knows how pretty he is, and heâs using it as a shield. Trying to flash bright enough that people wonât see anything but that smooth voice and boyish, charming grin.
Youâve been allowed to see beneath it. Because heâs your friend. Because heâs not trying to impress or trick you. Not trying to sell himself to you, even though youâre kind of already his. He doesnât care if he gets your love or affection. Some part of you always wonders if he knows he already has it, and thatâs why you get to know Dean, the perfect, sweet, broken but strong man, instead of Dean, the sex-god and hunter legend.Â
And you donât want to go out drinking with him. You love him. But if you have to watch him flirt with someone else the whole night, youâre going to go find another swamp monster and let it eat you.
You donât get to open your mouth and tell him that, before heâs continuing on.Â
âThereâs kinda this bar Iâve been dying to check out, since we pulled into down.â His gaze feels like itâs buzzing over your skin. âAnd we should celebrate. So. Drinks.â
âDrinks.â You repeat, tilting your head at him. He gives you a crooked half-grin and nod, and you pull your lip between your teeth.Â
Heâs being so fucking weird.
âYou can go yourself, Dean-â
âNo.â He shakes his head, standing up a little taller. âYou saved my life tonight. Iâm getting you a drink.â
âYouâve saved my life more. And I never buy you a drink.â
âThatâs different.â He dismisses you quickly, and you frown.
âHow-â
âCâmon,â he drawls your name, his tone almost challenging. âOne drink.â
Fuck.Â
Heâs got you. He must know heâs got you, otherwise he wouldnât have pushed it. All he has to do is poke you, and you cave. Give a mumbled nod and agreement, and trying not to burn from within at his happy grin.Â
And you donât know if heâs happy because you said yes to getting drinks, or because heâs getting drinks.Â
It doesnât matter.Â
Heâs still happy.Â
Itâs a quick drive, from the motel to the bar. And itâs nice, but not the kind of place you think Dean would be dying to see. Itâs just like all other bars youâve seen, in every corner and county of America. Posters on the walls, dartboards and pool tables, and jukebox that really should be out of commission by now, and dirty, chipping wood tables. The drinks are strong, but no stronger than any other drinks. Theyâve got pretty good maraschino cherries, and the bartender doesnât seem to judge you when you ask for themâwhich is a plusâbut thereâs also a gaggle of girls in cowboy hats at the other end of the bar, and you know how this night is going to end.Â
Or you thought you did.
But theyâve been giggling and shooting looks at Dean all night, and he hasnât so much as turned around.Â
âWhat else do you have on your list?â You ask him, playing with the stem of a cherry, and he frowns at you.
âMy list.â
âYour bucket list.â
âI donât have a bucket-â
âDonât lie to me, Winchester.â You kick his shin lightly, with a small grin. âItâs not befitting of a lady.â
He snorts. âThatâs rich, coming from you.â
âIâm not the one being questioned.âÂ
âOh, Iâm beinâ questioned?â He grins, leaning a little closer, and he smells like pine trees. You never should have gotten him that body wash, but youâd also found out he hadnât been using body wash, and you couldnât just let that slide. âWhatâre the charges, sweetheart?â
You shrug. âLying about your bucket list.â
He opens his mouth, and you give him a flat look.Â
âI saw it, Dean. You keep it at the bottom of your bag.â
âYou-â He shakes his head. âWhy the hell were you looking in my bag?â
You flush, staring down at the cherry stem. The knot wonât stick. âYou said I could use your shirt. When mine got vamp blood on it.â
âRight.â He gives you an odd look. âYâknow, I never got that shirt back.â
âSorry. Forgot.â
You didnât forget. You keep it in your drawer and sleep in it when you havenât seen him in a few days. He doesnât need to know that.Â
Dean shrugs, taking a swig of his beer. âItâs whatever. I got other shirts.â He gives you a small grin. âYou remember what else was on that list?â
âUm,â you wrinkle your nose at the air, biting on your lower lip. âMeet Burt Reynolds, save his life. Give Baby guns. Try an Oreo pizza.â You swallow, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on your hands. âHave the sex.â You canât look at him. Not right now. âDean, Iâm pretty sure youâve had sex before.â
âYeah. But this is, uh-â He coughs. âSpecial sex.â
That makes you look at him. Heâs picking at the label of his beer, a deep frown on his face. He doesnât want to talk about this. Not with you.
âWell,â you mumble, tugging on your cherry stem. âI think youâve got three options, if you want to go for that one.â
He glances at you, brow drawn. âWhat?â
âThe cowgirls behind you.â Youâre going to rip the stem in half. âI think theyâd be down to have the sex with you.â
Itâs meant to come out as a joke, but you mostly sound bitter. Itâs sour on your tongue, because you hate being jealous. Itâs not Deanâs fault he doesnât see you like that. And you canât place any claim over him, or even blame the cowgirls for taking him away from you. If you saw Dean in a bar, youâd do the exact same thing. And maybe then heâd give you the lazy, hungry smirk he always gives everyone else. If you could just be a pretty face.Â
Thereâs a hollow, vile sneer in the back of your head that reminds you he might not even think youâre pretty, and thatâs why you never stood a chance. Youâll drink it away, when he leaves you at the bar.
But he doesnât. Dean doesnât even look at them.Â
He just keeps watching you.Â
âNah.â He shrugs, and you blink at him.Â
âNah?â
âI got better things to do, sweetheart.âÂ
You stare at him. âLike?â
Dean just grins at you, and thatâs not fair. Itâs making you feel molten and important, and he doesnât even mean it like that.Â
âAlright.â You let out a soft laugh, and that sounds bitter too. âWho even are you?â
âI dunno, sweetheart.â He shrugs. âYou tell me.â
âI- Iâm-â You take a sharp drink of your own, giving him a tight-lipped smile. âSo youâre not going to flirt with them.â
He shakes his head. âYouâre not going to flirt with the dudes watching you.â
You snort. âThere are no dudes watching me-â
âYeah.â His tone has changed. Gotten firmer. Deeper. âThere always are.â
âDean.âÂ
âItâs true. You just never freakinâ see it.â
âWhat, and you do?â
His jaw tics. âYeah. I do. Beard and flannel, 2Â oâclock.â
You look before you can stop yourself, and heâs right. Over your shoulder is a broad, bearded man, wearing a green flannel and looking right at you. He winks, when you meet his gaze, and you swallow.Â
âI, um-â You look back to Dean, who looks oddly annoyed for having pointed the guy out to you. âThatâs different.â
Dean let out a dry laugh. âYeah, okay. Sure.â
âIt is. I donât do⌠that.â
âYeah?â
âYeah-â
âSo what do I do, sweetheart?â
Heâs staring at you, something behind his voice that sounds like itâs important. Itâs written all over his face, as well. He still hasnât looked at the cowgirls. Youâre not sure what the fuck is happening.
âI donât know, Dean.â You murmur, wrapping the stem around your finger like a ring. âWhat do you do?â
He doesnât answer immediately. And when you look back up at him, that strange expression has returned. You wait. Youâd wait forever.Â
And you donât want to say the wrong thing and fuck thisâwhatever the hell this is, because heâs never looked at you like that before, but it feels like youâre being turned into starlightâup.
âWe, uh-â He cuts himself off with a frown. âYou and me. Weâve known each other a while.â
Youâve felt like youâve known him your whole fucking life. You felt like that almost the first time you saw him. Sort of like youâd looked at him, and known that this always ends with you falling in love.Â
Another thing he doesnât need to know.Â
So you just nod.Â
âRight.â He glares at the bottle, like itâs personally responsible for something bad happening to him. âAnd weâve been through some shit together. I mean, mostly me. Causing you problems-â
âYou donât cause me problems.â You say before you can stop yourself, and he chuckles.
âI know. You always say that. But, uh- I got news for you, sweetheart. I cause you a lot of problems. And,â he raises his voice before you can protest again. âYou never give up on me. Shit, I might of given up on me, but you didnât. Youâre always- No matter how shit this gets, it feels alright long as I got you.â
Heâs looking at you like youâre supposed to know what that means. When you stare at him back, he just clears his throat.Â
âYou mean a lot to me.â He mutters. âYou- Your trust means a lot. More than anyone.â
âOh- okay.â You feel kind of dizzy. âCool.â
He swallows. âYeah. And I know I do go home with other chicks, uh, I- Itâs not. It never means anything. They know that. And a lot of them have been inâŚâ His ears go slightly red, his voice dropping lower. âSituations. And that ainât for to them, or- Yeah. And I always go back in the morning.â
Youâre lost. âWhat?â
He sighs. âI always head back to you, sweetheart.â
âI know, Dean, we live together-â
âNo- I mean, yeah, but-â He sighs, running a hand over his face. âYouâre kinda the best friend Iâve ever had,â he grunts your name, and you sit a little taller. âI donât tell you that enough. And I was- Uh, Iâve been thinking- A lot.â
Youâre going to chew through your tongue. âAbout?â
He stares at you, mouth hanging slightly open, and you wait.Â
Dean takes a deep breath, his gaze darting over your shoulder, and he shakes his head.Â
âNothing, sweetheart. Never mind.â
You frown. This doesnât feel like a never mind. âDean-â
âYou want some help with that?â He nods to your cherry stem, giving you a bright grin. âI can do it with my tongue.â
His tongue. He can do things with his tongue. And itâs flicking out over his lips, and heâs grinning at you, and youâre the best friend heâs ever had.Â
Friend.
Best friend.
âIâm okay.â You mumble, fiddling with the stem and dropping it in your glass. âThank you, though.â
His jaw twitches again, and he opens his mouth, then closes it. The cowgirls seen to have wandered off to another corner of the bar. The music is playing quietly in the background, and itâs not a bad song, but it feels like nail scratching your ears. You just donât want to hear anything right now, other than what Dean decided not to tell you.Â
You know he wasnât building up to the fucking cherry stem. But if you ask, that would be pushing it. And it might not be something you want to hear.Â
So you let it go, and give Dean a small smile as you stand up.
He frowns. âWhereâre you-â
âBathroom.â You shrug. âBe right back.â
Deanâs hand flexes, like heâs going to try and reach for you. But he doesnât. So you walk away.Â
But you smile at him, because youâre pathetic. Smile and squeeze his bicep.Â
Youâd like to run your hand through his hair.Â
Thatâs not a friend thing.Â
The bathroom of the bar is just what youâd expect. Flickering lights, cheap looking stalls, a toilet seat that youâre careful to wipe down, because you really donât want to round all of this off with an infection.Â
It hasnât been the most shit week. You got the monster. Hung out with Dean. Broke your own heart over it, almost every second, but thatâs nothing you havenât been doing for years. And maybe heâs not going to tell you whatever the hell he was building up to, but maybe itâs another thing thatâs just not about you. Deanâs being weird because he and Sam are fighting about something stupid. Dean had sounded tense on the phone, earlier.Â
So itâs not about you. Tomorrow, Sam will probably call you bitching about Dean, and ask you to talk some sense into him. Sam seems to be under the impression that youâre the only person in the world that Dean listens to without question, but youâve been in multiple situations where that proved not to be true. The time he wouldnât let you hunt alone, when you asked him to borrow the car to go into the cityâwhich is something he lets Sam do all the timeâthe kitchen indecent, when he wouldnât let you help him figure out how to bake a cake for your birthday, the other time he wouldnât let you hunt alone-Â
âYou should totally go talk to him!â A girlâs voice cuts through the air, and you freeze.Â
Youâd sort of forgotten other people could, hypothetically, use the bathroom.Â
âNo, itâs okay. There are plenty of hot guys in the world, right?â Second voice. Different girl.Â
âNot hot like that.â The first girl says again. âI mean. He looks like he fell right out of the fucking sky. Thatâs once in a lifetime hotness.â
Dean. Theyâre talking about Dean.
Fuck.
You should make your presence known. You should just cough, or say yeah, heâs hot, but heâs got a weird penis. Which would just be possessiveâwhich youâre not doing, youâre notâand a straight up lie. Youâve heard the reviews, from girls in the morning. Youâve heard the sounds, when he used to get separate rooms just to rail women in. Sam would put in headphones with a sigh, and youâd try to pretend it wasnât happening until youâd heard screams of Dean, and youâd decided to find whatever bar was closest and had the highest cut off.
These girls could be the ones screaming, tonight.Â
Unless you embraced the jealousy thing, and told them he has a weird penis-
âYeah, heâs hot, but the woman he was with,â the second girl sighs, and you freeze. Too late to make yourself known. âI think sheâs like his girlfriend or something.â
You gape at nothing, and third girl pipes up.Â
âNo, actually, I agree with that. Donât talk to him, heâs got a girlfriend.â
âAre you kidding me?â The first girl scoffs. âThat was not his girlfriend.â
You scowl. She didnât have to say it like that. Sheâs right, but she might not have been, and She didnât have to be rude about it-
âWhy not?âÂ
âBecause if thatâs your boyfriend, you donât leave him alone in a bar.â
The other two girls make sounds of disagreement, and that shouldnât make you feel as good as it does.Â
âNo,â the third one says. âMaybe heâs just like, a loyal guy. And she trusts him.â
âPlease,â girl two laughs. âMen who look like that arenât loyal.â
That almost makes you stand up. Deanâs loyal. Arguably, itâs his worst quality, because itâs nearly given both you and Sam multiple aneurysms. You manage only to curl your fists, though. And the second girl continues.Â
âLike yes, she was really pretty too. And they looked to be having a serious conversation-â
âWhich isnât what people just hooking up do-â
âI know that. But like, he wasnât touching her. Maybe they were sitting really closer together, and he ordered her those cherries before she asked-â
âThat was really cute-â
âYeah, but, maybe theyâre just like friends!â
âKaylee.â The third girl says, voice flat. âDid you see how he looked at her?â
âNo. Youâre the one who pretended to go the jukebox.â
âWell, it was like a puppy dog face. He love loves her.â
You feel like youâre being shot. The girls donât stop talking.Â
âAre you sure?â
âOh, yeah, just pretend to walk past them later. Itâs super obvious.â
They leave a few minutes after that. And you have to remember how to move your legs, but a lot of things are crashing around in your brain. Youâre pretty. You and Dean look cute together.Â
Dean looks at you like he loves you.Â
It feels like youâre floating, when you make your way back to the bar. Deanâs fidgeting with his sleeves, mostly staring at his bottle, and when you tap his shoulder, he looks up at you with a frown.Â
It quickly turns into a grin. And he holds up your folded cherry stem with a proud grin, puffing out his chest.Â
âDid it while you were gone. In one shot, by the way. You can, uh- Keep it? I dunno. Didnât think past doinâ it, I guess.â
You give him a softer smile, and tuck the cherry stem into your pants. âIâll keep it. Thank you.â
âCourse.â He shrugs, glancing around the mostly empty bar.Â
The cowgirls are watching you.Â
Deanâs hand is resting on your wrist. Youâre not sure if he knows heâs doing it, but itâs warm and electric over your whole body. Â
And when you scan over his face, thereâs nothing on it that screams he loves you. Thatâs just Deanâs face. Maybe the third girl just had too much to drink, or is rooting for him to be in love with you, which is very sweet but overall useless to you-
âYou wanna head back?â Dean squeezes your wrist, giving you another easy, causal grin. âWe should get our three hours, before we beat the storm.â
You sigh, giving him a tight smile. âItâs eight hours.â
âYeah, if youâre a health nerd.â
âDean-â
âItâll be six hours, if we go now.â
You wrinkle your nose at him, and he just grins back. It really is the same grin heâs always given you. But you hear the cowgirls giggling, when you pass them. Theyâre probably reading into Deanâs hand, on your back, way too much. You know you have.
But reading too deep into things is what youâre best at.Â
And now that theyâve mentioned how Dean looks at you, itâs impossible stop.Â
Youâre picking it apart, for the rest of the night. For the entirety of the drive, as you analyze every shift in his face, when he glances your way. How he smirks at you, when he opens your door with a dramatic, sweeping gesture. How he laughs when you roll your eyes, and the face he makes when you mumble that youâre getting changed. Then the face when you come back, and he looks up from the TV.Â
âDean.â You lean over the back of the couch, making your voice as firm as possible. âSix hours. You promised.â
He groans, but turns off the TV, and flicks your nose. âAfter all I do for you, sweetheart, youâre gonna make me sleep?â
âYep.â Heâs so close. You can see every handsome feature of his face. âGo to bed, Dean.â
He grunts and his gaze is trapped right on yours. His eyes are so fucking green, and theyâre shining on yours. His breath is warm on your face, and in the cold of the night, itâs impossible to ignore. How all the heat is coming from Dean. You could move. Just an inch. Press your lips against his, and see what it does. Maybe heâd pull you over the couch and into his lap, kiss you until heâs all that you can feel. Until youâre burning alive, but heâs burning with you.
Or it could change everything. And youâd lose your best friend.Â
You pull back. And donât look at Dean again, as you go to bed. You need to stop torturing yourself. Youâll do it enough on the car ride tomorrow.Â
Deanâs true to his word. He goes to the bathroom, takes another shower, then gets into bed right after you. Enough for six hours, even if heâs up first.Â
He doesnât wake you up, as he gets ready to go. Packing his bag, then yours, then the remaining supplies. You mostly just drift in and out, listening to him shuffle around the room, pause, then move again. At one point, after you hadnât shifted around in a while, his hand rests on your brow. And because he thinks youâre just sleeping, you nuzzle into it.Â
He lingers.Â
Fingers trace over your face. Your cheeks and nose and eyebrows, then up into your hair.Â
He sighs, and moves away, and thereâs another thing to over think. He could be disappointed in you. Annoyed with you. Tired of you. Just tired overall, and that was a yawn. But Dean doesnât really yawn.
He also doesnât just touch peopleâs faces.Â
But-Â
âSon of a bitch?â
Your eyes shoot open, and you sit up in a second, reaching for your gun. No one seems to be in danger. Deanâs glaring out the window.Â
You rub your eyes, pushing up to your knees. âDean, whatâs wrong?â
âCome look.â He mutters, and you shuffle to your feet, peering out the window.
âOh.â You whisper, and he chuckles.
âYep.â
You didnât beat the storm.Â
The storm beat you. The world is all gray and white, falling snow and sheets of white over the whole world.Â
So youâre trapped in the motel. With Dean
âââ
âWe did try to leave early.â Dean grunts into the phone and you sigh, holding your knees to your chest on the bed.
It took five hours for the storm to clear enough that Dean could call Sam. Another hour for Sam to pick up, because he is on vacation.Â
And youâre not sure how youâre going to survive this.Â
Not the storm. The storm will be easy. Youâre what Deanâs called paranoidâbut is proving itself to just be preparedâand thereâs no possible way youâre going to run out of food. The water is still running, as it electricity. The heater did break again, but Deanâs spent the last two hours on his knees, trying to fix it.
Most of his tools are both for cars, and in the car.Â
Heâs improvised.Â
And heâd given you this big, boyish and proud grin, when heâd realized he could use the wire hooks without being electrocuted. And thatâs why youâre not going to survive this.Â
Youâre trapped with Dean. And his smiles and voice and body and general everything. Itâs one roomâtwo if you count the bathroomâand itâs just you and Dean. No buffer to stop you from saying something stupid, like how you love him. No distractions, because the electricity is working but this motel only has cable, and thatâs down. Just you and Dean.
âFuckinâ Christ.â Dean mutters under his breath, shooting you an odd look.
You mouth what back at him.Â
He rolls his eyes, and mouths back Sam, before speaking aloud. âYeah, I know how waitinâ out storms works, Sam, I freakinâ taught you- We ainât gonna run out of water, this isnât a drought, we can drink the snow- Iâm not drinking it right now.â
You giggle, and Dean gives you a flat look. You only shrug in return, and that eye roll is for you, but you donât really care. At least itâs for you.
âNo.â Dean turns back to the heater, his voice having dropped. âI ainât doing that. No- Sam. Shut your face or Iâm calling Eileen and telling her sheâs got a funeral to attend. Not mine-â
Dean groans, running a hand over his face, and you climb out of the bed. The blankets have to stay wrapped around youâitâs fucking freezingâbut you can still help. You kneel down at his side, holding out your hand and nodding to the hanger. Dean frowns at you and shakes his head, and you flex your fingers, giving him a pointed look.Â
He pulls the phone away, covering the speakerâSamâs voice muffled through his handâand grunts, âI got it, sweetheart. Go back to bed.â
âDean.â You sigh, just grabbing it out of his hand. He doesnât fight you, just staring as you shift on your knees. âFinish your phone call.â
He opens his mouth to say something, then sighs, and nods. He squeezes your shoulder, as he moves to his feet, and you watch him walk to the other side of the room.Â
Youâve been studying his face all morning. The cowgirlâs words havenât stopped replaying. He looks at you like he loves you.
But you really donât think he does.Â
Heâd given you tight smiles all morning, until youâd finished sorting the supplies and decided that youâd easily survive this without eating each other.Â
âIf we donât have enough,â heâd said, hanging over your shoulder. âI want you to eat me.â
Youâd sighed, and whacked his thigh. Better not think about how firm it had been. How if you turned your head, you would have been at perfect eye level with his bulge. And it had been freezing, but that was the kind of heat that was going to kill you just as much as it made you come alive. Now, trapped in a motel during a blizzard, was not the time to test the waters of how much Dean would want you. Youâd rather turn to ice than have to spend a whole week, awkwardly pretending you hadnât come onto Dean and gotten rejected. Â
âIâm not going to eat you, Dean.â Youâd muttered, and heâd shaken his head.Â
âIâm telling you to eat me, sweetheart.â Heâd dropped at your side, and youâd focused on your sorting. If you looked at Dean, youâd stare and try to figure out if he loved you. âItâs my last wish. You not gonna honor a dying manâs last wish.â
âNo.â
âThatâs pretty damn rude-â
âYouâre not dying.â Youâd looked at him, because youâre weak. No promise you ever made yourself about Dean lasted more than about twenty minutes, because most of them were donât look at him or donât talk to him, and actually committing to that would mean more change.Â
He hadnât been looking at you like he loved you.Â
It had just been the same way he always looks at you. Open, handsome, with a small grin and light in his eyes.Â
Thatâs just his stupid, pretty face. And it had been hard to keep pretending to be annoyed with him, when this was the first real smile heâd given you all morning.Â
âWeâve got enough.â You mumbled, your eyes seemingly trapped on his. âI- I wonât need to eat you.â
âAwesome.â Heâd grinned at you, and youâd swallowed, and nodded.Â
That was just another expression he always made. It didnât mean anything.Â
He is scowling at the air, now that heâs focused on his phone call. He hasnât looked at you like that, ever. But you also havenât been saying anything to piss him off.Â
Itâs very rare, that you actually do piss Dean off.Â
But youâre his best friend, so that canât mean much.Â
You have to drag your gaze back to the heater. Youâre going to drive yourself out of your mind, before you even hit day five.Â
Dean keeps talking, and it sounds like a serious conversationâserious enough that youâre not allowed to hear it, which youâre trying and failing not to read into, but it can just be another way to fucking torture yourselfâwhen you hear the rattling buzz from the heater that means itâs working.
You turn to Dean with a wide grin, sitting up straight and making a ta da gesture to your work, and he grins at you again. Gives you a thumbs up, even his brows remain furrowed at whatever Sam is saying.
âSam.â He grunts, walking towards you. âIâm going.â
Thereâs a sound of protest from the other end of the line, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing again.Â
âI know how rationing works, Sam, I taught you that shit, too- No, weâre not fuckinâ talking about that- Bye.â
Dean hangs up, Samâs voice dying mid-sentence, and you give him a curious look.
âNot talking about what?â
âDonât worry about it,â Dean mutters your name, crouching down at your side and scanning over the heater. âNice work.â
That shouldnât make you flush as much as it does. But Deanâs really close, and heâs praising you, and suddenly the room has spiked from freezing cold to almost insufferably hot.Â
âThanks,â you mumble, and Dean just shrugs, clapping you on the shoulder. The way he would a friend.
âNo problem. So.â He scans around the room, and his brow pinches together the moment heâs not looking at you.Â
Heâs thinking. Thatâs all it means.Â
âWe got food, water, heat, shelter.â Dean says, mostly to himself. âOverall weâre not half fucked.â
âOnly a quarter.âÂ
Dean snorts, and his brows un-pinch as he looks at you.
Which still probably means nothing.Â
âWhat do you think that quarter fucked is, sweetheart?â
Him. Being trapped with him. Already starting to spiral about what everything he does and says means, if this is going to make things change, if heâs going to get sick of you, if he does look at you different. You really canât tell anymore. You might have already gone mad, or the heat is just getting to your brain.Â
Making you hallucinate how close he is. How his attention on you is undivided, how his thumb is rubbing small circles where itâs still resting on your shoulder.Â
Thatâs your quarter fucked.Â
But you also know what Deanâs is, so you say that instead.Â
âNo TV.â You give him a mock pout, and he lets out a dramatic groan.Â
âItâs not funny, sweetheart-â
âYeah, it is.âÂ
âYouâre saying that now, but what are you gonna do when you get sick of talking to me?â
You frown at him. âI wonât get sick of talking to you.â
He scoffs. âSure-â
âIâm serious, Dean.â You lean forward, which is a mistake. He steadies you with a hand on your knee. Heâs still like a furnace. Youâre going to catch his heat and melt into nothing. âI wonât get sick of you. Are-â You swallow. You shouldnât ask it. âWill you-â
âNo.â He mutters, scanning over your face. âBut I still miss TV.â
You give him a small smile, a weightlifting off your chest. âItâs been like, twelve hours.â
âFifteen.â
You laugh at his grumpy face, and his lips twitch.
âWeâll find something to do, Dean.â You cup his face as you move to your feet. He might have leaned into your touch. Another thing to pretend not to think about. âI promise.â
âââ
âCheckmate.â
Dean groans, leaning over the board with a glare. âNo, thatâs- Son of a bitch.â He looks up at you with wide eyes. âI fuckinâ had it, sweetheart, what the hell.â
You shrug, starting to reset the pieces. âYou never had it, Mr. Winchester. Youâre a fool and your knowledge of the gentlemanâs game is weak.â
He snorts. âI think youâre just cheating.â
âMaybe.â You grin at him. âBut if I am, you havenât caught me.â
âSo you have been-â
âDo you have proof?â
Dean sighs, and grumbles, âNo.â
You hum. âInnocent until proven guilty.â
âOr until you admit it.â
âIâve never admitted anything. In my life.â
Dean raises his brows. âHalf an hour ago, you told me you used to sing lyrics to classical music.â
You flush, and throw a pawn at his face. âThat was a secret-â
âI havenât told anyone! Iâm just sayinâ back to you what you said to me-â
âWell, you used to name your toy cars after different cartoon characters-â
âHey.â Dean wields the pawn at you like a knife, narrowing his eyes. âDonât bring She-Ra the Pontiac into this.â
He glares at you, you glare right back, and thereâs only a beat of silence before you both burst out laughing.Â
This has been most of the last two days. Youâd raided the entire room, to see exactly what type of amenities were provided, and found mostly paper, meaning that you and Dean spent most of last night playing drawing games. He drew genuinely the worst tiger youâve ever seen, and you drew a snake so worm-like he spent twenty minutes laughing on the ground. This morningâbefore you got upâhe went outside during a brief lull in the storm, grabbed your playing cards from the trunk of Baby, and raided the lobby for board games.Â
He beat you at two-person poker, twice. You won gin rummy, and cribbage, so he insisted on a third poker round. You know he just wanted it to win again. But you love himâand his stupid, dopey grin whenever he does something wellâso you let him have it. And he did win. But you kicked his ass in Candyland.Â
Dean said this one was a kidâs game, so it didnât count.
Youâd pulled out the chess, after that.
This is your fifth win in a row. And youâre not cheating.Â
But Dean is adorable when heâs grumpy. And just for now, youâre giving up on trying not to look at him too long. You wonât mess up, because this is already such a fragile situation. Youâre on a high alert to not do anything too obviously in love with him. And already spent all of last night with the sheets tangled between your legs, looping over and over how Dean had made you dinner. Stared at you when youâd come out of the bathroom in a towel and coughed. Talked to you until two in the morning, because for once neither of you had anywhere to be in the morning.
In a very, very strange way, this feels like a vacation. A precarious one, where youâve sealed over half the things you want to say to himâI love you, Dean, I want you, I spent that whole shower thinking about what it would feel like if you were with me, on your knees or behind me or anything, Iâd take anythingâand allowed yourself to look at him to keep it together. To keep him from noticing.
It would be suspicious, if you didnât look at him. And itâs quelling that unending heat, in your body.Â
Youâre going to get through this. Walk out the other side, with only good memories, and nothing changed.Â
Youâre probably going to be trying to figure out how Dean looks at you forever, but thatâs only hurting you, so itâs fine.
Itâs all just fine.
âNo more chess.â Dean grumbles, grabbing a rook out of your hands and bumping it on your nose. You blink at him kind of stupidly. He doesnât seem to notice. âLetâs go back to cards.â
You take the rook back, poking it into his chest. âWhy, so you can win poker?â
He shrugs with a grin, and you sigh.Â
âHow about war? No skill. Just luck.â
Dean frowns. âI got shit luck, sweetheart.â
âAnd I donât?â
âBetter than mine.â He mutters under his breath, and you frown.Â
Thereâs something heavy to his tone that you donât understand. But before you can try and find the words to ask him about it, heâs moving on.Â
âOne poker game, just to level out the field. Câmon. Iâll make you lunch?â
âAnd- Do I not get lunch if I say no?â
âNo, but this doesnât work if you keep bringinâ reason into it, sweetheart.â
âSorry.â You pick at your nails, giving him a small smile, and he sighs.Â
âItâs alright, sweetheart. But if we play war, Iâm shuffling.â
You nod, giving him a wider smile, and his jaw twitches. Itâs been doing that a lot, today. You spent most of breakfast staring at it, trying to figure out what it meant. Probably just that heâs tense, from the stress of the situation. Even though it started last night. And overall, the situation hasnât been all that stressful.Â
Again. Trying not to think about it.Â
âDeal.â You hold out your hand, and Dean shakes it. His hand fits perfectly, in yours. It always has. Youâve had a lot of fantasies about just Deanâs hands, alone.
And itâs impossible not to stare, as he shuffles. His fingers have always moved so deliberately, with such exact, measured movements, and theyâre big and thick and rough, and when you passed him the cards, heâd touch your forearm and you felt like you were going to fly out of your skin-Â
âReady?â Dean nods to the pile of cards in front of you, and you blink.Â
Right.Â
The game.
âReady.â You mutter, sounding breathier than you meant to, but youâd also worked yourself into a small frenzy, thinking about his hands. His smirk isnât helping.Â
You really donât think he knows, exactly what he does to you.Â
But if he does, this is downright cruel.Â
âAlright,â he drawls your name, picking up his own deck with a dramatic roll of his shoulders. âLetâs skirmish.â
You laughâitâs stupid, but you always laughâand Deanâs grin widens.
Itâs not clear if heâs smiling because you laughed, or just he got a laugh.Â
You really have to stop picking yourself apart like this.Â
The first few flips run by, and soon youâre not even counting down to flip anymore. You and Dean have gotten somehow merged your game brains, and youâre flipping in perfect sync. Youâre winning most of them. Dean hasnât seemed to notice yet.Â
âWould you rather be attacked by a duck, or a hippo.â
You blink at him, flipping over another card. âWhat kind of question is that, obviously-â
âWait.â He grins at you. âThe duck has a gun, and the hippo is a baby.â
âOh.â You tilt your head at the air. âDoes the duck know how to use the gun?â
âSure.â
âOkay, and is the hippos mom around?â
Dean frowns. âWhy does that matter.â
âMothers are incredibly aggressive when their babies are threatened, Dean. A grown mom hippo kill me.â
âHuh. Well, we donât want that.â His brow furrows, and you try not to let that make you feel too gooey. âLetâs call it that the mom hippo is around, but far enough that she wonât know if youâre careful.â
âCareful? The hippo is attacking me-â
âSo you gotta kill it.â
You gape at him. âIâm not killing a baby hippo, Dean.â
âFair.â He nods, flipping over a nod. âSo youâre going Gun Duck.â
âDo I get a gun?â
âIf you can take his.â
âI can do that.â You watch him grab the cards he won. Heâs rolled up his sleeves, so you can see his forearms. Itâs distracting. âWhat would you choose?â
âGun Duck.â Dean shrugs. âI think I could take that mama hippo, though.â
You snort. âNo, you couldnât.â
He gives you a mock look of offense. âSweetheart, Iâve fought the Devil-â
âHippos kill 500 people a year, Dean.â
He scoffs. âSo?â
âSo there are about 180 plane crashes a year.â You give him pointed a look and he gulps, going a little pale.Â
âGood point. No hippos.â
You hum, pulling more of your own cards forward. âWould you rather live on the moon, or underwater?â
Dean pauses, thinking about it as you both flip. âThe moon. Space would be pretty awesome. Can I guess your answer?â
You nod, a little desperate to know what he thinks youâre going to say, and he grins at you.
âUnderwater.â
You keep your face perfectly neutral. âWhy?â
âBecause you think space is scary.â
âThe bottom of the ocean is scarier.â
âYeah, but you wouldnât live at the bottom of the ocean.â He gives you a look like thatâs obvious, and sighs when you just stare at him. âI think youâd be like, a lady of the lake or whatever.â
âA-â You blink at him. âLike in King Arthur?â
âYeah.â He grins at you, wide and toothy. âIâd be a pretty awesome King, right. Iâd get to sit at the round table.â
âSure,â you return his grin, setting out three cards. âWhat are your stances on tithes and feudalism?â
âUh.â He makes his tight, adorable thinking expressionâthe one where heâs really trying, but doesnât have a fucking clue what youâre talking aboutâand you want to kiss him all over his stupid face. âAnti?â
You hum and nod, and he raises his brows.
âWas that right?â
âI donât know, youâre the King.â
âYeah, but youâre my- Lady advisor.â
You snort. âLady Advisor?â
âThe- Guinevere lady-â
âThat was Arthurâs wife.â You say, and itâs really hard to sound causal about that. âAnd she cheated on him with his best friend.â
Dean recoils slightly, shaking his head. âOkay, so you ainât that.â
You give him a cautious look. âDo I have to be something, in your fantasy land?â
âCourse you do, sweetheart.â He says that like itâs obvious, too. âIt ainât a fantasy land if youâre not there.â
You flush, and Dean sits a little taller, clearing his throat. You donât know if he meant it like that. He probably didnât. But now heâs not looking you in the eyes, and he probably thinks heâs leading you onâeven if he doesnât know he doesnât need to put you on a leash or offer you a reward, youâd follow him to the end of the earth no matter whatâand things are going to change-
âIâm the Lady of the Lake.â You mumble, folding a card between your finger and giving him a small smile. âOf course Iâm in your fantasy.â
He coughs, but grins at you, and heâs ears are red again. Â
Donât think too much into it.Â
âAwesome.â
âââ
Itâs only been three days.
Youâre falling into a far too comfortable pattern.Â
Dean makes you breakfast, you do lunch, he does dinner. You play card games and talk, Dean goes out to check that nobodyâs stolen Babyâit doesnât matter how many times you tell him that wonât happen, he has to do it anywayâand you make him hot chocolate for when he gets back. You spent most of today talking about superheroes, Dean hanging your paper stars on the ceiling because heâs perfect, and you donât know how you were ever supposed to not fall in love with him.
âCan I have the purple?â You ask, and he passes the marker to you with a small grin.
âI still donât understand why you these in the car, sweetheart.â
âFor organizing. Duh.â
âRight. Duh.â He chuckles, nudging your side with his foot, and you squeak.Â
âDean-â
âSorry.â He laughs above you, and he kind of looks like a God. Big and strong and handsome, so far above you, so untouchable, but offering you more with his joy than you can understand.Â
Because you havenât seen Dean this happy in years. Heâs fully relaxed, heâs not scanning around every few seconds to check that everyone is safe, and heâs still sleeping with his gun under his pillowâthatâs never going to changeâbut when you woke him up this morning, you didnât end up with the barrel in your face.
Itâs probably because there are no threats.Â
Itâs getting harder and harder to think itâs not about you.
âCan you pass me my book?â
âSure.â He shuffles away, and your body seems to want to follow him, which isnât fair. âWhat, you gonna use the pages to make more stars?â
âDonât joke about that.â You mutter, frowning at the star in your hands. âI just want to use this one as a bookmark.â
Dean just hums, and the book is passed into your hands as he sits at your side. âYou, uh- Liking it?â
You angle your head to see him, and heâd grabbed a beer while he was getting your book. Heâs picking at the label again. His jaw is ticking.Â
You really donât know how to ask him what thatâs about.Â
âThe book.â He addsâafter youâre quiet for a beat too longâgiving you a sheepish grin. âHow are you liking the book.â
âOh. Itâs- Good. Iâve always wanted to read it, and I- yeah.â Heâs sitting too close. Itâs making you short circuit.Â
Dean just nods, turning the bottle in his hands. âSo itâs on your bucket list?â
He gives you a half-grin, and that makes you almost go limp. Heâs smiling at you like itâs a secret. Like itâs something only you get to know about, even if it was because you accidentally snooped.Â
You smile back. It always makes his grin wider, and his shoulders relax, and that could be about you-
No.Â
Youâre not doing that.Â
âMaybe.â You shrug, and he raises his brows.
âYou gonna tell me what else is on there?â
You sit up, holding his gaze. Your knees are bumping together. You could swear his eyes widen slightly.Â
âThe sex.â You whisper, and he groans, shaking his head and looking back to his bottle with a tight smile as you giggle.Â
âBet youâre proud of that one.â
âI am.â You poke his thigh, lying back down as his nostrils flare, and he gives you an odd look.
âYou should write one.â He says suddenly. âWe got a shit ton of paper. Sammy says theyâre good for you to do. Reckon with your own mortality or something.â
You snort, fiddling with one of the stars. âLike youâve ever reckoned with your mortality-â
âIâm serious,â he says, and when you look back up, heâs staring right into you. âItâs useful. Sammyâs usually out of his freakinâ mind, with that therapy bullshit, but-â He sighs, tipping his head back to rest against the bed. âItâs not half bad.â
He glares at the ceiling, as if he canât believe what heâs saying, and you take a risk. It wonât change anything. Youâve comforted him before, and heâs comforted you, so this wonât change anything.
âDean.â You murmur, resting your hand on his thigh. âI believe you, I just- I donât want that many things.â
âEveryone wants things.â He mutters, and you shake your head.Â
âNot me.â
He finally looks at you, and that strange expression has returned. His eyes lock onto yours, and there seems to be a heaviness to him that youâve never really seen before. You smile at him gently, and his lips only twitch. Heâs looked at you like this before, as well. In the dead of night, when he woke up shouting and you were the only one who heard.Â
But youâve never seen it in the light before.Â
And itâs the way he always looks at you, but more. His eyes are softer, but his jaw is clenched so tight youâre worried heâll hurt himself. There are deep lines on his face that you want to trace with your fingers, and his lips are in a tight line you want to pry open with your tongue.Â
âNothinâ you want, huh.â his voice is deeper than only a moment before, almost a little hoarse.
You sigh, your eyes darting to your hand, still resting against him. âNothing I can have.âÂ
He gives you a curious look. âWhat, going back to civilian life?â
âNo. Never.â You bite on your inner cheek, playing with the fabric of his jeans. âYouâre stuck with me, Winchester. Sorry.â
He lets out a low laugh, leaning back once more. âDonât worry about me, sweetheart. I think Iâll live.â
âââ
Dean taps on the top of your head, and you look up to find him grinning down at you, holding your book.Â
âWhat-â
âI read it.â He stands a little taller, seeming to puff out his chest. âYou were right, sweetheart, itâs pretty good.â
âItâs- The book?â You blink at him. âYou read the book?â
âAll of it. Except the acknowledgments.â
âYeah, you donât really have to read the acknowledgments-â You shake your head, chewing on your tongue. âWhy did you read the book.â
âI dunno. You,â he gently bops your head with the book. âFell asleep early. And you didnât stop reading it yesterday, so- I dunno. Wanted to see what the big deal was.â
You nod, watching him carefully. âAnd you liked it?â
âSure.â He pauses. âDid you like it?â
âYes.â You whisper, and youâre not sure why this is hitting you in the chest so hard. Itâs just a book.
But he read it for you.Â
And heâs been looking at you all week. Laughing with you. Not pushing you away or shutting you out when the conversations get too serious. Acting like youâre the only two people in the word, which is what it feels like.Â
Itâs just you and Dean. In this room, andâeven though you know that itâs not true, that heâll probably turn around and walk right into another bed when youâre freeâin the whole fucking universe.Â
Itâs really impossible to think that none of this is about you, now. It probably isnât, but playing pretend is getting easier and easier. Youâre not getting sick of him. Heâs not getting sick of you.Â
And if you never had to leave, you might ask him. If heâs happy here with you, or just happy here. If he thinks he looks at you differently, if there was any truth to what the cowgirls said.Â
If he really was never going to go home with them.Â
What the hell he was going to tell you, at the bar.
If he can feel how humid it is, here. How outside, the storm is still raging, but in here your skin is hot and sweaty because Deanâs been pulling your legs over his lap when youâre on the couch. And the steam keeps following him out of the shower and into your dreams.Â
Last night you had to take an emergency shower, because youâd had a fucking wet dream. It had been all hands and lips, everywhere over your body at once. Soft on sensitive skin and rough on your neck and tits and between your legs. Youâll woken up with your hair stuck to your brow, and your hips grinding into the mattress. Chasing release in nothing, until youâd scrambled into the bathroom, turned on the water, and finished where he wouldnât hear you.Â
Couldnât hear you.Â
Didnât hear you.Â
Dean couldnât have heard you. If he had, he wouldnât be looking at you right now. Heâs been trying to let you down gently, instead of sitting right next to you. Waiting for your attention. Pressing his thigh into yours.Â
Best friend.Â
Heâs comfortable with you because youâre his best friend. And youâre getting really, really bad at remembering that.Â
But heâs really not making it easy.Â
âYou- Uh-â He clears his throat. âYou ever think about how Sammyâs doing?â
âLike- Emotionally?â
âNo, like-â Dean lets out a slow breath, watching you so carefully it feels like heâs pulling you apart. âWith this life heâs got goinâ for himself. Less hunting, more time with the missus. Thinking about that white picket fence, payinâ taxes, apple pie shit. You ever think about that?âÂ
You swallow, and speak slowly. This sort of feels like a warzone. You donât want to misstep.Â
âSometimes.â With you. âI- I mean, I have the dream.â
âThe dream?â
You nod, and he frowns.
âI thought you didnât want things.âÂ
âI donât want things I can have.â You correct, and Dean raises his brows.
âItâs a dream, sweetheart. Doesnât gotta be something you can have, think thatâs the whole freakinâ point.â He pauses. âIâve told you about my dreams.â
Fuck.Â
âI- Donât know.â Your gaze drops to your hands, but Deanâs gaze keeps searing over your skin. âItâs dumb.â
âNah. Youâre never dumb.â
Fuck. âDean-â
âYou donât have to tell me.â He mutters, something oddly edged in his tone. âBut Iâm here. If you wanna-â
âIâd like it.â You cut him off softly, and he stills at your side. âWhat Samâs doing. I mean- Not exactly that. But we- I would kind of want both, I think. Keep helping, even if itâs mostly research. Having something good, my way.âÂ
You give Dean a small, nervous smile, and his mouth is hanging open. Heâs closer than he was, only a second ago. You could lean forward and bump your noses together, if you tried.Â
And you want to.Â
But Deanâs just staring at you, and your knees are starting to feel weak, despite sitting down.Â
âWhy isnât that something you can have?â Deanâs voice is so low you can almost feel it in your chest, and he only seems to be getting closer.Â
âBecause thereâs no one I can do that with.â You say, before you can think about it, and Deanâs jaw twitches.Â
Heâs so fucking close. You can really smell that pine tree wash. Your heartbeat is in your ears, along with a strange rattle thatâs bouncing around your skull with every heated thoughtâhis hand wandering up your leg and between your thighs, his body covering yourself, his lips wherever the hell he wants them, as long as itâs on your skinâand most of your brain is just a haze of Dean.Â
But you canât move first. Things canât change, when this inevitably ends.Â
The rattling sound is getting too loud to just be the hunger, bouncing around your ribs.
âThe heater is making noise again.â You whisper, and Dean licks his lips, his voice still low and hoarse.Â
âItâll be fine,â he mutters. âYou fixed it.â
That is not a good enough reason for it to be fine, no matter how confident and smooth Dean says it. Even if it ignites in your lower gut, and spreads humid between your thighs. âBut-â
âYou want dinner?â
You frown. âItâs my night-â
âItâs fine.â He moves to his feet suddenly, rubbing the back of his neck. âUh- Pasta. And those frozen meatballs, we havenât used them yet.â
âAt least let me help.â You try to stand up, but Dean just blocks you, shaking his head. âDean-â
âI got it, baby. Donât worry about it.â
You donât argue with him after that. Not because heâs rightâheâs notâbut because youâve forgotten how to walk. Or talk. Or do anything at all.Â
Baby.
Dean called you baby.Â
âââ
He doesnât do it again. Not for the rest of the night, or in the morning. The next day is mostly spent making up a new card game, thatâs mostly based on you and Dean yelling at each other, and trying to steal cards. At one point he tackles you, starting a mock wrestling match, and itâs like being tossed into a wildfire. You giggle too much. Give in too fast.Â
Dean stands abruptly, and goes to the bathroom for twenty minutes after that.Â
You donât think thatâs about you. Not when he immediately drags you to your feet and announces that heâs ready to learn how Zodiac signs work. If he was pissed at youâif something had changedâhe wouldnât be talking to you at all. But he doesnât move from your side for the rest of the day. Â
So the heat doesnât die.Â
Not until you crawl into bed, and the heater stops rattling.
Stops all together.Â
And everything starts to freeze.Â
For the first hour, you try to just bundle yourself as tight as you can, burrowing yourself in the blankets and curling up in a ball. But the temperature drops faster and faster, and these are motel sheets. Thinner than they should be, a little itchy, and not made to withstand the cold of a blizzard. Your fingertips start to go numb, and you can feel the cold almost in your bones, until you have to clench your jaw to stop your teeth from chattering.Â
Deanâs snoring soundly, in his own bed. You donât even think heâs realized how cold itâs gotten.Â
But the man runs like a furnace. A warm, big furnace that could wrap around you, and make you warm, so fucking warm-Â
You sit up, and stare at him in the dark. Just as handsome as always, with all the panes of his face cast in sharp long shadows that only make him more beautiful. You could easily lose yourself kissing along his jawline or running your finger through his hair. Sitting in his lap and pressing your face into his chest, just feeling him until the whole world is lighter.
And this isnât about that.Â
It canât be. You roll out of bedâkeeping the blankets wrapped around youâand this isnât about how youâre in love with Dean. If it becomes that, youâll spiral into what every single brush of his skin and breath means. Youâll stare at him all night instead of sleeping, and heâll notice, and youâll ruin everything.Â
So itâs just about heat.Â
You nudge his arm, and drop your voice to a loud whisper. âDean.â
He grunts, and you sigh, poking him again.Â
âDean.âÂ
He rolls over, making a low sound like your name, and his hand rests over yours as his eyes flutter. He looks so comfortable. Peaceful. At complete ease, in a way youâve almost never seen.Â
Itâs so fucking selfish to wake him up, just for you.Â
But another chill runs through your body, and you donât have another choice.Â
âDean.â You shove him gently, and he makes an adorable grumbling sound, slowly opening his eyes.Â
âWhat- Whatâsâa matter.â He frowns around the dark, then up at you. His hand over yours tugs you a little closer.
It doesnât mean anything.Â
âIâm cold.â You whisper, he frowns, and this was stupid. âNever mind. Iâm sorry, I just- Iâll go back to bed-â
âWait, just-â Dean pulls you back with a small yelp, and his hand rests over your brow. âSon of a bitch, sweetheart, youâre freezing.â
âI- I know.â
âWell, we gotta-â He cuts himself off, scanning over you carefully as his nostrils flare.Â
You just stare at him back, and whatever he can see on your face, itâs what he wants.
Dean gives you a tight nod, and throws open his blanket. âCâmere.â
âNo- Itâs okay- Iâll be fine-â
âYouâre already not fine-â
âBut you donât have to-âDean grunts your name, and itâs a good thing he canât see the flush of your cheeks. âGet in the fuckinâ bed. Please.â
Please.
He did say please.
You crawl onto the mattress, and before you can build any sort of safety barrier between your bodies, Deanâs pulling you right into his chest. And thatâs enough to make the heat spike and return, stronger than before. But then he bows his head so his lips brush over your hairline, and his hands dive just under your shirt to rub your skin, and his legs tangled with yours until all you can feel is Dean.Â
Hot.Â
So fucking hot, youâre worried youâre going to evaporate and turn into nothing but steam.Â
âRelax.â He mutters, deep and right in your ear, and you almost go limp in his arms. âThere you go. Warmer?â
You humâspeaking feels like a taller order right nowânodding against his shoulder, and Dean lets out a slow breath.Â
âGood. Go to sleep, sweetheart, Iâll fix it for you in the morning.â
Heâll fix it. For you. Dean will fix it for you.Â
Thatâs about you.Â
And heâs fixing it now. But not in the way he probably thinks.Â
Youâre warm, but you canât fall asleep. Also you can think about his Deanâs fingers, brushing over your spine and spending smaller, pleasurable shivers through your body. His knee is pressed far too close to the painful ache between your legs. His breath his fanning over your brow, and heâs wrapped an arm around you to pin you right against him. Every inch of your body feels alight, just in his presence. The heat between your legs is almost painful, and when you rub your thighs together, you can feel your arousal.
Youâve never been hotter in your life. Youâre on fucking fire, trapped in Deanâs everything, and thereâs no fucking way youâre going to do anything but memorize him. The way his body shifts, how it feels to be swimming in him, and the feel of his strength keeping you so tight.Â
You can hear his heartbeat.
Itâs faster than you thought it would be.Â
And when you wiggle in his arms a little, trying to get more comfortable, his fingers curl on your back and he holds you tighter.Â
âDonât move.â He almost growls in your ear, and you swallow.
âDean?â You whisper, and he grunts, the sound vibrating through your whole body. âMy leg is falling asleep.â
He moves you without another word, but the friction just makes you hornier. And now his lips are pressed against your neck, making your core molten and forcing a soft, high sound from your throat.Â
Dean tenses around you, immediately pulling away and readjusting you again, but you donât get the chance to over think it.Â
Because you feel it, first.Â
His erect cock, pressed right over your pussy.Â
You lean back to stare at him, your mouth hanging open, and Dean looks at you like heâs looking at the sun. His jaw is clenches, his features blown out with hunger, and his fingers on your spine have started a soft, slow dance that makes you arch into his touch.Â
His eyes flick down to your lips, and then expression he gives you is almost pleading. His thumb traces over the shape of your lower lip as you try to remember how to speak, or move, or do anything.Â
Then he mutters your name, dropping his brow against yours, and you grind fully into his knee.Â
âGod, fuckinâ-â Dean groans, his lips so close you can almost feel them. âTell me I can, baby. Please. Let me- Fuck-â
You canât remember how to speak.Â
But Deanâs knee pressed right against your clit, and it jumpstarts your memory of how to move.
You grab his face, and slam your lips over his. He responds in a second, flipping you flat on your back and dropping his hips, keeping you pinned beneath him. Heâs rough, hot and wet and desperate, with grabbing your jaw and angling it back, using his tongue and lips and teeth until youâre slack in his hands.Â
He pulls back suddenly, examining you for a second before starting to kiss on your neck. Sucking small spots that feel like flares, sparking through your body and making you squirm with a desperation for more.Â
âDean-â You gasp, tugging at his hair as you try to spread your legs. âI- I need- Dean-â
âI know.â He growls against you, his teeth grazing over a soft spot, and you arch off the bed with a high whine. His free hand finds its way between your legs, cupping your pussy over your clothing, and you gasp, wiggling until his palm is pressed against your clit. âHeard you callinâ for me last night, baby. Christ, you have no goddamn idea how much I- Fuck-â
You start to grind into him, and Dean rises over you, something like awe written all over his face.Â
âThat bad, huh.â He mutters, and you nod weakly. âYou want me? Gonna let me warm you up?â
You donât know why heâs doing this. Donât know what it will bring in the morning.Â
All you know right now is that Deanâs pulled your pants down, and is teasing your slit over your underwear with two broad fingers. That heâs above you, and looking at you like he wants to eat you alive.Â
So you nod, letting your brain turn into only a fog of Dean and good, so fucking good.
And Dean grins.Â
A sharp, almost predatory grin that makes your breath hitch in your throat, and your hips jolt as he flicks your clit. He gives you a deep, heavy kiss, pressing his tongue between your lips and down your throat, all while circling his thumb right around your clit, and youâre melted within seconds.Â
âCan you say it?â He drawls, his lips still brushing right over yours, and you just blink at him through the daze. âSay it, baby. Tell me what you want.â
He rests his thumb right over your clit, his fingers playing with the wet spot on your panties, and you just manage to whine out what he wants to hear.Â
âTouch me.â You gasp, and he chuckles, giving you a soft, rewarding kiss.Â
âGood girl.â He hums, and you donât even have time to register how that makes your moan before Deanâs moving.Â
Your shirt gets pulled over your head, as he kisses down your neck and over your shoulders. Dean makes a small stop at your tits, taking one in his hand to palm and knead, the other being almost attacked by his mouth. Licking and sucking and kissing everywhere he can reach, before pulling your nipple between his teeth. He groans as you shiver and writhe below him, switching his attentions until youâre flushed and tugging at his hair, silently pleading for more.
He hums, kissing over the curve of your breast before continuing down. Under the covers where you canât see him, making every single touch even more electric. Your eyes close as he gently works over your stomach abdomen, gasp when he nips at your inner thigh, and fist the sheets as you try to guess where heâs going to be next.Â
Dean kisses your clit softly, over your panties, and he squeezes your ass as he slowly pulls your hips off the mattress.Â
You hold your breath, when you feel the cool air hit your dripping cunt.Â
And Dean doesnât move right away.Â
His breath is warm over your pussy, his stubble brushing sensitive skin as he kisses your thigh, but heâs not touching you. All youâre getting is his hands on your ass, the phantom feelings when heâd been before, and itâs starting to make you go cold again. He could not like what he sees. You might have pushed thisâwhatever the hell this isâtoo far, and heâs going to come up and tell you this was a mistake-Â
Dean licks a rough stripe up your pussy, and you almost fly off the bed. His arm plants over your lower stomach, pinning you to the bed as he swirls his tongue around your clit, and pinches your ass gently. You flop back down with a deep breath, shooting a hand under the covers to tug at his hairâunsure if youâre trying to move him away or urge him onâand Dean moans against your pussy as he starts to eat you out like a man starved. Sucking your clit and rapidly flicking his tongue until youâre panting, before starting to lick your pussy as a feverish speed.Â
You never know where heâs going to be next, and itâs driving you out of your mind. It doesnât take long for you to feel that coil in your gut tightening, set to snap any second, and Dean seems to know that. His hand on your ass rolls and squeezes as he tongue fucks and licks you, his arms holding you firm against his mouth. Every yank of his hair only makes him groan, and the sound vibrates in your pussy, making your eyes roll back in your head.Â
âDean.â Your voice is high, almost whiny, and Dean hums. âPlease, I- Iâm going to-â
He presses his tongue flat over your clit, shoves two fingers into your pussy, starting to pump them at a brutal, rapid pace, and your mouth falls open as the heat flood through you. You see white, your thighs clenching around Deanâs head and toes curling as he eats you out through the orgasm.Â
Dean gently pries your legs away, as you float back down, and presses an almost mockingly sweet kiss over your clitâmaking you shudder in his hands, and earning you a second oneâbefore shuffling up your body.Â
You stare at him, as he reappears from under the covers. His chin is shining with the wetness from your pussy, and you take a ragged breath as he wipes it with his thumb, and hold your gaze as he sucks it clean.Â
âI-â You take another breath, almost grabbing at the air to try and get him up, with you. âDean, Dean-â
He crashes up, angling his lips over yours for a sloppy, open-mouth kiss, and you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair. You can taste yourself, on his tongue, and just like that you need more.Â
You need to taste him.Â
Dean pulls away first, resting his brow against yours with a wide grin.Â
âHi.â He mutters, and thereâs something soft in his voice you didnât expect. âAnyone ever told you how good you taste, sweetheart?â
You flush, fingers curling on the nape of his neck. âNo.â
He hums, giving you another soft kiss on the nose. âWell, you do. Taste like fuckinâ heaven, make so many pretty sounds.â He rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and grins when you squeak. âSo sensitive, baby. Even better than I imagined.âÂ
You blink at him, your sex-addled brain not really able to understand what he meant by that, so you just say the only thing you can think of.Â
âYouâre really good at that.â
He gives you a look thatâs awfully close to pride, and kisses up your neck, stopping to whisper in your ear.Â
âEasy when I got such a pretty fuckinâ pussy to worship.â
You take a sharp breath, and Dean trades it with his own, almost pushing his tongue fully down your throat. He keeps kissing you like heâs trying to mark you, or maybe just fuse you together.Â
You really wouldnât mind that.Â
But you have something else to do first.Â
âDean,â you whisper, and he pulls back with a tight expression.Â
âWhatâs-â
âI wanna put it in my mouth.â
You say it fast, before you can lose confidence. Dean stares at you for a long beat after, his eyes dark and jaw clenched, and you suck on your lower lip, trying not to focus on how his cock is pressed against you. It feels thick. Big. You need it.Â
âPlease.â You add, and Deanâs eyes flash, his voice hoarse.Â
âSweetheart, you donât have to-â
âI want to.â You manage to push up on your elbows, and Dean swallows. âPlease, Dean, I- I want it so bad-â
He slams you back down into the bed with a kiss, and you grab his face between your hands. You want to feel him. Have this passion branded into you, until you can feel it forever.Â
âFuck,â he grunts, pressing a softer kiss to the side of your mouth. âYou wanna suck my cock, baby?â
You nod, and Dean hums, leaning back to give you an almost strict look, after.Â
âIâm not cominâ in your mouth. If I finish, itâs in you.â He pauses, then adds. âLong as thatâs- I donât wanna make it something you gotta give me, just like- Head would be awesome-â
You rise up to meet him this time, hooking your arm fully around his neck and cutting him off with another kiss.Â
âIâm on the pill.â You say, nipping at his lower lip. âAnd I- Iâd like you to- Do that.â
Dean looks like he just won the lottery. You even get one last kiss, before heâs flipping you over and helping you settle between his legs. He is big. Mostly thick, but still big. And pretty.
You want to choke on him.Â
Dean smirks at you as he lazily strokes himself. âLike what youâre looking at, sweetheart?â
Somehow, that gives you whatever little jump you needed to move. You roll your eyes, swat his hand away, and take him into your mouth in one, quick movement. Dean grabs your hair with a grunt, as his cock bumps against the back of your throat, and you take what you canât fit in your free hand. Itâs easy to set a pace, rubbing his cock as your tongue swirls and you suck him off like heâs candy. Heâs heavy and perfect on your tongue, and even moan of your name only makes you speed up. You hum around him, grinding your hips into the sheets, and Dean makes the most animalistic sound youâve ever heard.Â
His hips jerk, making you gag, and he tries to pull back.Â
You squeeze his leg, and go faster. Faster. Heâs twitching in your mouth and saying your name like a prayer, and-Â
Dean yanks you off with a grunt, and you giggle as he drags you up his chest, glaring at you with a lustful, dark expression.Â
âYou think this is funny, baby?â He mutters, and you smile at him, nodding.Â
His lips twitch, and he reaches up to grab one of your breasts, smirking when your breath catches in your throat.Â
âYou want to fuck you?â
âYes.â You whisper, and Dean hums.Â
âGonna be a good girl for me?â
You nod, and Deanâs hand trails between your thighs, slowly circling your clit until youâre grinding on his abs, nails digging into his chest.Â
âFelt how tight you were.â He says under his breath. âBut youâre fucking soaked, sweetheart. Think you can take it?â
A whine leaves you, and Dean chuckles, the sound rolling through your cunt.
âYeah. You can take it.â
He picks you up, and your mouth falls open as youâre driven slowly down onto his cock. The stretch burns, but itâs so good. Dean lets out a deep moan as he bottoms out, and he doesnât waste any time. He guides you up and down, helping you bounce on his dick, and you try to roll to meet him but youâre alight, high on the feeling of him dragging every needy spot inside of you, gasping whenever he slams you down and you feel fuller than even in your life. Dean slams up to meet you, every time, and you arch in his hands, starting to set your own, desperate pace of grinding on his dick.
Dean groans, and he looks at you under hooded eyes, hands starting to roam and grope anywhere they can find. You roll your hips and he grabs your throat, hissing when you clench around him. Dean starts to jackhammer up into you, and you whimper as he hits impossibly deep, squeezing hard. He sits up, taking your breast back into his mouth, and you yank on his hair, trying to warn him that youâre close. You canât remeber how to do anything but whimper his name, though, and he somehow understands.Â
Dean sucks on your neck as he starts to tap on your clit, and you go slack in his arms, trying to fight it off.Â
âCome on,â He growls, pressing down hard as he slams up. âGive it to me baby, fucking cum on my cock-â
You gasp, as your orgasm crashes into you. Stars dance behind your eyes as white-hot pleasure washes through your body, and Dean gives you one last, bruising kiss as he groans your name with his own release. It paints inside of you and sends you over the edge one last, shivering time, and you whine as he stills inside of you.Â
And this doesnât feel real.Â
Itâs the type of heat that feels like steam. Like a drug. As if, when Dean kisses your brow and pulls out, it could only be a dream.Â
Youâre too fucked out to think about it. You can only let Dean move you aroundâclean up, bathroom, back to bedâin a trace like state, before youâre tucked back into his chest. In his bed.Â
Warm.Â
You drift easily off into sleep with your body spent, and youâre so easily, happily, perfectly warm.
âââ
The world is slow, when you open your eyes. Thereâs a deep comfort you havenât felt in a while, a comfortable warmth settled in your bodyânot wired, not goin to burn you, but just peacefulâand you take a deep breath, settling into the covers.Â
Dean groans, and his lips brush over your ears. He shifts behind you, tugging a little tighter against his chest.Â
You still.Â
His chest. His arm, wrapped over your stomach. Because you slept with him.Â
You fucking slept with him.
And heâs still here, in the morning. Still holding onto you. When you roll over, his features are relaxed, and his mouth is hanging open as he snores. His chest rumbles with each breath, and his fingers trail over your waist in his sleep, and you slept with him.Â
You canât stay here. In his arms. You donât want to sit in it too long, let yourself get too high on the smell and feel of him around you, then have him wake up. Stare at you, then jump away. Tell you this was just a casual thing, youâd just been stuck together too long, and this doesnât change that youâre just friends. Youâll have to pinch yourself, to stop from crying. And then the car ride back will suck, and Sam will come home and notice things are weird, and youâll have to stop yourself from crying again.
Itâs easier, if you just pretend nothing happened. Nothing will actually change. Your heart will remain in its fragile shapeâmade like glass, so fucking easy for Dean to shatterâand Dean wonât have to go to the trouble of rejecting you.Â
So you, very slowly shift your way out of his arms. It takes longer than you thought it would. Dean keeps pulling you back, and grumbling in his sleep, and at one point his morning wood ends up pressed right against your bare ass, and you have to take about fifty deep breaths.Â
But you manage. With a lot of help from the sheets, stuffed into his arms as you move away, you get out of the bed.Â
Take a shower. Wrap yourself in blankets and layers, because the heater is still broken. Make coffee.Â
Drift through the early morning, trying to think about anything but the thing. If you think about it, youâll start crying all by yourself.Â
And when you look out the door, itâs a small blessing.Â
You wonât have to think about this at all. The storm has stopped. Someone cleared the roads, last night.Â
You and Dean can leave.Â
Dean groans your name, a few hours later, when he wakes up. Shoots upright with his gun, when he realizes youâre not in bed with him.Â
âOver here.â You say, rubbing your hands against the quickly cooling coffee, and Dean grunts.Â
His eyes still arenât in total focus. Heâs rubbing his face, his hair spiky and the sheets pooling around his lap. You have to stare at your coffee mug, because now all you can think about is how those abs had felt flexing under your fingers, how his chest had looked above you, heaving as you sucked his cock-Â
âWhatâre doinâ over there?â He mutters your name, and the heat isnât need anymore. Itâs prickling. Sore. You just want to leave this behind. To give him the out heâs probably looking for, and not think about how itâs not you. Dean doesnât regret sex with you.
He just doesnât want to do any sex that leads to expectations in the morning.
âItâs safe to drive.â You mutter, glaring at a carving of a flower Dean did on the table. Itâs making you think about his hands. On your tits, holding your neck, inside of you. Focus. âHeaterâs broken. We should probably go.â
Dean stares at you. You can feel it. And when you look up, thereâs an expression youâve never seen before. You donât even know how to read it. His face is tight, but his brows are relaxed, and his mouth is open. Itâs not even there long enough for you to analyze it. Dean just shakes his head, runs his hand through his hair, and stands up.Â
You flush, biting your lip and looking back to the table. His cock is hanging between his legs, and you can still taste him, still feel him when you shift in the chair, and itâs going to maybe haunt you for the rest of your life.
âRight.â Dean muttersânot seeming to notice how youâre squirming in the chairâand you can see him pulling on his boxers in your periphery. âWe should. Iâll start packing-â
âI already did everything.â You tilt your head to the couch, where youâd hauled the bags. âYou just- Have the keys. And I need your help carrying them.â
He snorts, voice dry. âWhat, you gonna take off with the money?â
You frown at him. âWe donât have any money.â
âItâs- Never mind.â Dean shuffles to the bathroom. âGonna take a leak. Get dressed. Then weâll leave.â
You donât know why heâs saying it like that. He wanted to leave. He wanted to beat the storm in the first place. And this has been perfect, this feeling of peace with him you havenât known in years, but if you were still stuck here that would have to change. He wouldnât have this clean, neat out.Â
But it feels like heâs pissed at you. Youâre not trying to talk to him, but heâs not trying to talk to you. Dean almost stomps out of the bathroom, grabs the bags, and hauls them outside without a glance in your direction. While you go to the front to turn in your key, he walks a pace behind you. When you grab a blanket from the trunk and slide into shotgun, he doesnât tease you about being cold.Â
Dean glances at you, his jaw ticks, and he starts the engine. It warms up quickly, but you canât really feel it. Your fingers are still numb. Your heart feels like itâs going too fast and too slow, all at once.Â
Thereâs only that hot, uncomfortable prickling sensation, and pure fucking cold.
Deanâs not moving at all. Not driving away, and leaving this all in the dust. Heâs just drumming on the wheel, glaring out the windshield, and pressing his lips tight together.
Heâs going to tell you no anyway. You did so much to avoid it, to get out before the change could sink and stick, but heâs just going to do it here-
âI just-â He takes a long breath, and you swallow. âBefore we go, you gotta tell me, sweetheart. Are we locking it?â
âAre we-â You blink at him. âWhat.â
âLocking it.â He grunts, giving you firm, almost heavy look. âThis. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.â
Oh.Â
You donât want to lock it. You donât want to trap it and push it down, because itâs just going to bubble up and youâre going to explode.Â
But you donât want things to change.Â
âIf thatâs what you want.â You mumble, and Dean huffs a low, dry laugh.Â
âYeah. Alright.â
It doesnât sound alright. He sounds pissed, and tired, and heâs still not looking at you, but he usually looks at you all the time. Maybe heâs never going to look at you again, maybe your friendship is going to melt away with the storm if you donât-
âIs that what you want?â
You speak before you can think. But it gets Dean to look at you.Â
Stare at you.Â
With that same strange expression from before. Seeing it closer, for longerâhis breathing heavier than it should be, his grip on the wheel white-knuckledâit looks almost broken.Â
Almost as cold as you feel.Â
And you shouldnât speak again. You should just let it go. Speaking it will change everything, without any way to stop it. The water will run, and youâll either be smoothed out and locked into the riverbed, or youâll be swept away with the current.Â
But everything has already changed. Deanâs never not looked at you for so long. Youâve never felt this hot discomfort around him.Â
So you take the leap.Â
âI- I donât want it.â You whisper, and his jaw ticks. âI want it to be more. I want to go back to bed, and I want to wake up next to you, and I want you to pee with the door open and make up stupid games together and order me cherries- Everything else weâve always done but you kiss me after. Like- I cut out paper stars and give them to you and you kiss me, and you take a shower, and I kiss you, and you keep making me breakfast but now itâs just me-â
âItâs always just you.â Dean grunts, and you blink.Â
âWhat?â
âBreakfast.â He mutters, still staring at you. âI donât really make Sam breakfast.â
Oh. âOh.â
Your voice is barely a breath, and Dean chuckles.Â
âYeah, and, uh-â He clears his throat, his ears going red again. âYouâre the sex. The one Iâve kinda- Since I freakinâ met you, I- Yeah. So, guess I got two bucket lists this week.â
He gives you a small, crooked grin, and itâs like a spark in your chest. Warm. Bright.Â
Maybe guiding you to something really, really good.Â
âYou know the bar we went to?â You say carefully, just because you have to be sure. âThe girls who tried to flirt with you?â
âNot really.â Dean shrugs, and that just makes the spark start to catch fire. âWhat about them?â
âIn the bathroom, I heard them talking, and-â You give him a tight, nervous smile. âThey thought you were my boyfriend. Because of how you look at me. Like you- As if you love me.â
You expect him to dismiss it. To say he has feelings you, but avoid the L word. To awkwardly tell you he just wants to keep having sex, and the cowgirls were just drunk.Â
But he doesnât.Â
Dean just grins at you.Â
The exact way he always has.Â
âYâknow, Sammy says I do that.â He twists to fully face you, his fingers still drumming on the wheel. âSaid it was obvious. So obvious I needed to man up and tell you out loud. But you never acted like you could see it, so I guessed he was just being a bitch. But I guess thatâs kinda the only face I make, when Iâm looking at you. Guess I canât blame you for that one.â
He gives you a smaller grin, raising his brow, and you breathing heavy through your nose.Â
Obvious.Â
Itâs been obvious.Â
And heâs- Heâs not say-
âDean.â You whisper, leaning forward until your hand is braced on his knee. âDo you-â
âYeah.â His voice is low, but not like itâs secret. Like heâs telling you something so critically important, it has to be said slow and deep, just to make sure you understand. âYou?â
âYeah.â
Deanâs jaw twitches, and his eyes flick down to your lips. âCan I kiss you, then? Whenever I want?â
You nod, and Dean crashes forward. Itâs slow, this time. With music in your chest and a high feeling in your head, as Dean pulls you closer and hold your face like itâs something priceless. Thereâs no rush, to try and imprint yourself upon each other. Youâre already molded into him, and heâs already branded all over you.Â
And things have changed.Â
But youâre never going to go back.Â
End Note: Thank god for that snowstorm. I choose to believe Sam summoned it to trap them together.
If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3
Buy me a coffee!âď¸ (and get early access!)
Taglist (Fill out this form to be added!)
@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24
@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr
@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1
@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused
@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @jackles010378 @godhelpthisbtch
@ilovedeanwinchester4 @sleepykittycx @immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @maddie0101
@chi-raz @lori19 @wynnthewynnderful @redwinexsupernova @tiana-kh
@woaheasytig3r @canibeyourghoulfriend @lovelywebber @salemslostwitch @winchester-whiskey
@and-i-wish @jsudsgf @fullbelieverheart @wowzabowza69 @bonbonnie88
@pillowjj @barnes70stark @kamisobsessed @happyfxckinghorrors @deans-yn
@jofinka
Heated
âŚRead on a03! - Masterlist - Dean Masterlist⌠âŚsummary: Dean's refusing any help to get over his sex curse, no matter how many women you find for him. If only he'd just tell you why⌠âŚwarnings/tags: Dean Winchester x female!reader, no use of y/n, sex pollen, angst, pining, Dean being a dummy (it's okay we love him), big emotions (sex pollen does that), just the nastiest smut (praise kink, soft!dom Dean, finger sucking, fingering, some car sex, dirty talk, oral f!receiving, sex pollen appropriate stamina, overstimulation, body worship, dumbification, creampie), love confessions during sex, light fluff at the end⌠âŚwc: 10k⌠âŚauthor's note: voted for my the people! this might be the horniest thing i've written ever like i got possessed plz enjoyâŚ
This room is going to suffocate you.
Outside, thereâs a chilling breeze that bites at your ears, and you had to turn the heater off after an hour of Dean whining about it. Youâre wearing a few layers and thick, fuzzy socks that slide on the floor. When you look at your fingers, theyâre developing a purplish tint under the nails, and youâd think your nose was bleeding if you could feel it at all.
But youâre burning alive. Deep in your stomach with shame, and an arousal youâre not allowed to indulge. Itâs wrong, right now, to have flushed cheeks and sweat gathering under your clothing. A tingling heat thatâs hidden under the collar of your shirt, and restless fingers as you work, itching to touch something.
Yourself. Just a rub between your thighs for a little pressure of relief to help you focus.
Dean. Lying on the bed, moaning lewdly and humping the sheets like youâre not even in the room.
Heâs apologized fifty times. He apologized when you left that old, moldy house and he started staring at you and palming himself in the car. Apologized when youâd been walking inside, and heâd doubled over in pain on the side walk. Heâd grabbed your hip for support, and while youâd been trying to figure out if he was okay, his hand had slipped up to your inner thigh. Apologized when you went to get him some iceâheâd said he was warm, youâ d been worrying about a feverâand you had to come back to find him lying in your bed, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut and groans slipping from his lips.
At least he hadnât been touching himself. Heâs managed not to do that at all, which youâd be impressed by if you werenât so worried.
Sam says itâs a pretty basic sex curse. Maybe a pollen, from that mold. Nothing you need to worry about finding a magical cure for.
âWeâve seen these before.â Sam had said. âItâs run-of-the-mill. Dean knows what to do.â
Run of the mill.
Simple.
Sam had said it like youâd be clear in an hour. Nothing fancy required.
Dean gets laid, the fever goes down, everyoneâs good.
And it mightâve been simple. You mightâve been done an hour ago, if Dean just got it over with and left when he was clear. You wouldâve sat in your bed, running the sheets between your fingers while you read. Trying desperately not to think about Dean only a door over, about the sounds creaking through the wall as he railed someone else into oblivion, about how heâd look.
Probably just like this. Wrecked and hungry, his eyes blown out and skin slick with sweat. Every muscle in his body straining, hair stuck to his brow, mouth hanging open as heâd hover over some lucky girl, showing her a heaven even angels didnât get to experience.
Your heart wouldâve silently ached, a wound youâve been letting fester opening wider and wider. Your hands wouldâve tugged nervously at the sheets, trying to gather whatever heâd left over like a twisted little souvenir for your perverse brain.
The brain that wonât stop being in love with him, no matter how much logic you offer to counter it. Youâve spent nights staring at the ceiling, acting like love was a debate. Like if you reasoned with yourself enough, all the blood in your body would simply stop flowing in a song of his name. Your heart would shift into a new rhythm, no longer a war drum trying to call for him. Your eyes would stop looking for tiny bits of evidence he loved you too, in just as much silence as you love him.
Heâs about ten years older than you. He opens doors for you, and that can be a secret desire thing. Heâs not emotionally available. He talks to you, about his dad and complicated fights with Sammy and his past, and that has to mean something. Heâs got anger issues. Heâs stubborn, heâs reserved. You have issues too, and youâre more stubborn. Heâs fucked up- Youâre fucked up, and heâs also sweet and loyal and handsome and the best kind of stupid a man can be, where heâs a dumbass that never pretends to be incompetent. Heâd probably be possessive. Youâd like to be possessed. Thereâs no future there. Yet.
Youâve always lost the debate. You stay in love with Dean, because your heart wasnât even kind enough to give you a crush. A brief and intense high of adoration and lust wouldâve been manageable. You wouldâve recovered.
Instead, itâs love. Not even love with a half-life, weaning off with just a little time. Deep, long love.
The kind of love that has you looking at him now, and crudely thinking that heâs being a bit of a pussy. Itâs not a fair thought. Heâs cursed, has a fever of a hundred and two, and his body is probably trying to convince him to do things that heâs not on board with.
But you live like that every day, and you donât whine about it. Youâve felt like if he didnât touch you now youâd die, youâve gone sick with your own perverse thoughts about what youâd let him do to you, youâve been delirious with adoration until Sam clears his throat, and mutters that youâre staring again. Maybe the mold shouldâve crawled into you, or however this works.
You wouldnât have been such a massive bitch about it.
You wouldâve had nasty motel sex with a stranger an hour ago.
You wouldnât have made Dean sit in a room with you while you pillow humped, forcing him to look for a sex partner to break your back.
You wouldâve been home by now.
But Dean wants to be a little fucking bitch.
âYouâre being a bitch.â You say it plainly, because maybe it will snap him out of whatever the fuck this is.
Instead he just chuckles, twisting to give you an amused look. âOuch, sweetheart- Shit-â
The movement looks like it made his dick brush against something, and now heâs back to cowering in the sheets. Jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut, visibly pained, and whatâs wrong with you that heâs never looked so hot-
âYouâd be a bitch too.â He mutters, groaning as he rolls back onto his stomach. âI feel like Iâm dying-â
âYouâd stop feeling like that, if youâd just pick someone to fuck.â
âIâm tryinâ-â
âNot hard enough.â
âTrust me, Iâm plenty hard enough- Fuck-â
You throw one of his pillows at his face, and he makes a strangled noise like you hit him with a bullet.
âYouâre gonna attack a dying man-â
âI can do whatever I want, when Iâm helping you find a fuck buddy.â You stick your tongue out at his back, then return your attention to his phone. âHow about Miranda? Sheâs thirty-six, sheâs got really nice hair, and- Oo-â You scroll a little further down the page. âShe likes boats! Those are like water cars, you guys could bond over that.â
Dean laughs again, shaking his head. âBoats arenât water cars.â
âThey are. Think about it.â
âThey donât have a big engineering overlap, I donât know shit about boats-â
âThen you can just fuck her stupid, you nerd.â
Deanâs silent for a long moment, and you hover your thumb over the screen, fully ready to subject yourself to the worst torture possible for Deanâs stupid, cursed sake.
âShe looks nice.â You mumble, praying he doesnât hear the exhausted, hopeless pain in your voice. âI think youâd like her.â
Dean grunts. âNo. Next name.â
You sigh, and swipe left. Adding Miranda to the long, long pile of rejected applicants.
Itâs been like this for two fucking hours. Dean lying in your bed, you cross-legged in his, absolutely no progress on curing the curse. He barely even looks at you anymore. Heâs been facing the opposite wall since you sat down, burying his face in your pillow every time he moans, trying to hide the roll of his hips under the sheets and failing miserably.
The tingling pain between your legs is almost unbearable now. Youâd call Sam and ask if the pollen was transferable, if you werenât terrified of the answer being no. Thereâs no way itâs not just Dean anyway. His thick arms stretching up to grip the pillow, his broad, muscled shoulders and back bare, the fact that sometimes when he humps fast and rough, the sheets ride up and you swear you see the tip of his cock. Itâs wrong. So fucking wrong, to be getting off to him like this.
But itâs your own personal hell, to have this responsibility. To have him right there, and not be allowed to touch him.
Youâll deal with your shame later in the shower, where you can wash it off and maybe cry from a few different places over your body.
Later. When heâs not dying, and doing absolutely nothing to help you save him.
âHannah.â You read out the next profile, pulling your knees to your chest. âSheâs got curly hair, really nice brown eyes. Looks like sheâs a nail artist. That could be nice.â
Dean snorts. âWhat, you think Iâm gonna have her get me a manicure after?â
âNo, I just-â You take a long breath. Youâd rather have a living Dean that doesnât love you, than a dead Dean, who also doesnât love you.
Dean starts to twistâheâs going to try and look at you againâand you clear your throat.
âIt might be nice to look at. Aesthetically. Or- arousing.â
He mutters your name, but you push on.
âFor a handjob. Nice nails, going- Up and down your- Um- Your dick-â
Dean lets out the loudest moan yet, and your jaw snaps shut. That sounded like your name. He was probably just trying to warn you to shut up, but that still sounded like your name-
âSorry-â
âStop talking.â He snaps, and you nod.
Without him asking, you swipe left on Hannah. He seems to have forgotten about her, and you have no desire to let her and her perfect nails anywhere near his dick.
It takes a while for Dean to request the next candidate. Long minutes of him just panting and grunting, burying his face in the pillow and thrashing in the sheets like heâs having a nightmare.
You see the head of his cock again. Itâs thick looking and red and shining with pre-cum. Angry and hard and Jesus fucking Christ-
âEmma!â You shout to the room. You need this to be done. âSheâs a nurse, that can be a kink thing-â
âStop.â
You sigh, turning down the phone screen. âDean-â
âNo. Donât want Ella-â
âEmma-â
âDonât fuckinâ care. Weâre not doing more of this- Shit.â
âAre you just swearing, or is that an adjective-â
âSweetheart.â Heâs almost growling, a hand slipping out from the sheets to fist the mattress. âStop. Talking.â
You close your mouth, bowing your head as shame floods your body. Youâre trying to help. Youâve given your whole night just to help the man youâre hopelessly in love with have sex with someone else, and youâre tired. Tired of doing this to yourself, tired of him shooting everyone down like suddenly heâs got the highest sexual standard in the world, tired of acting like itâs not killing you and tired of watching him like this.
Heâs in so much pain. You can hear it straining in every word, tensed in every movement. Youâre not allowed to touch him, but the last time you made him check his own temperature, it had gone up again. With how heâs looking, how heâs muttering to himself under his breath, youâre willing to bet itâs gone up another handful of degrees.
Deanâs going to die, if he doesnât deal with this. And if he dies, youâre not going to deal with it.
You donât want to think about what youâll become, if he goes. You might be the one that turns into a ghost, haunting this goddamn hotel room and growing up the walls like that mold. A shell of a person, caught in a million what-ifs, her heart ash in the wind with his body.
Dean wants to be done with this.
Youâre not done with him.
You swipe right on Emma.
For an hour, you let him keep moping and groaning. You flirt with Emma for him, because youâre the best friend in the world, and pretend you canât see him trying to move a pillow between his legs to offer extra pressure.
âDean.â You say softly, and he grunts.
âBaby, I need you not to talk-â
âYou can take it out.â You mutter, keeping your focus on Emmaâs texts. âIf you need that. Iâm a big girl, I- I wonât mind.â
Thatâs a lie through more than just your teeth. If he starts touching himself in front of you, all the poetic fawning about how your love is killing you wonât be dramatic anymore. Your heart will beat right out of your ribs, your head will get so light youâll float away, your need for him will become so consuming youâll either fall to your knees and open your mouth for him to use, or simply just explode.
But if it helps him. Youâll do anything to help him, even if itâs searing the most sinful, impossible image into your head for the rest of your life.
Dean with his cock in his hand, head thrown back, beating himself right next to you. Maybe moaning under his breath, thrusting up into his fist, accidentally looking at you as he cums, mouth hanging open and eyes hooded as thick white ropes paint the sheets-
âNo.â He grunts, and you blink.
âItâs okay-â
âNo. Iâm not doinâ that to you.â
You swallow, heated shame rushing through you. âI- I could leave the room-â
âNo, donât-â He almost shouts your name, flipping over suddenly.
Looking at you.
His eyes are almost black with lust, his face red and slack, expression desperate. He hissesâthe movement likely too muchâbut still reaches out a shaking hand, like heâs going to try and grab you.
âDonât go, just- Fuckinâ-â His words trail off, eyes locked on your face, and another moan escapes his lips.
You push up on your knees, fear clenching at your heart. âDean-â
ââm fine-â
âYouâre not fine-â
âIâm- Son of a bitch-â His eyes widen on yours then slam shut. His hand curls into a taut fist, face pulling in pain, and thatâs enough.
âFine. Donât masturbate, see if I care.â
He says your name, low and rough, and you shake your head.Â
âYouâre not fine, you fucking idiot. Youâre dying.â You push to your feet, grabbing his phone from the bed.
Emmaâs very nice. Nice in the kind of way thatâs going to make you hate her, and you feel sort of bad. She was doomed to your loathing from the moment she swiped right.
But sheâs going to help. Sheâs going to save Dean, and youâll offer her grace for that.
Deanâs eyes had opened, when he heard you moving. Heâs looking at you like a lost street dog, opening his mouth to say something that only comes out in a panting groan of your name.
Whatever protests he has, you wonât hear them. Heâs not allowed to die.
âGet up.â You snap, tossing his clothing onto his face. âGet dressed. Iâm starting the car in ten minutes, and if youâre not there, Iâm coming back and youâre having sex with me.â
You donât look over your shoulder to see his reaction. The sounds of torment leaving his chest are bad enough.
It hurts. It cuts deeper than a blade, the idea that he detests the idea of sex with you that much. Youâre good at sex. Youâve gotten raving reviews, youâre batting a hundred, flawless reports and a hundred percent customer satisfaction rate, even if you donât really enjoy most of it yourself. Most people you have sex with donât manage to make you cum, and when they do itâs a tiny little shudder through your body that you forget about in five minutes.
Dean witDean would be lucky to have sex with you. Youâd worship him. Youâd get on your knees and let him use you until he was leaking out of every hole. Youâd let him fuck himself back into you, youâd let him throw you around, youâd do anything-
Itâs probably a good thing your threat works. Dean stumbles out of the motel right at the nine-minute mark, pallid and flushed all at once, hunched in pain and wearing a massive raincoat over his jacket to hide the boner.
You never wouldâve forgiven yourself, for taking advantage of him like that. Itâs better like this, no matter how much it hurts.
You smile when he gets into the car. âNice fashion statement-â
âShut up.â He grumbles, glaring out at the road. âWhereâre we goinâ.â
âA bar.â
He makes a sour expression. âWhy.â
âBecause you have a date. With Emma the nurse.â
Dean goes dead quiet. He tenses next to youâyour elbows brushing for a split second, before he recoils like your skin is coated in toxinsâworks his jaw, then shakes his head.
You sigh. âDean-â
âNo. I told you, Iâm not doinâ that.â
âYes, you are.â
âNo-â
âYes!â You slam the brakes harder than you mean to, as you approach a stop sign.
You expect Dean to snap about you being careful with his baby. Maybe try to make a joke about how maybe the frustration is rubbing off on you, or argue about how this is his dumb choice to make.
And it is. But he made the wrong choice, and you are not letting him die.
He mutters your name, and itâs the same way he said it earlier. Soft. Almost pleading.
You take a deep breath, and twist to look him in his pretty, glazed and dilated eyes.
âYouâre going into that bar. Youâre going to flirt with Emma. If she asks if you have a fever, you tell her you work construction or something, and youâd just been at a shift. You run hot. Nothing for her to worry about.â You drum your fingers on the wheel, forcing down the lump in your throat. âYouâre going to tell her sheâs pretty. Youâre going to call a fake uber, and Iâm going to drive you to the motel. Youâre going to fuck Emma until youâre cured, and then we can go home. Understand?â
Deanâs throat bobs. He opens his mouth, a glint in his eyes like heâs going to argue. You donât give him the chance.
âNo. Youâre doing this. If you donât, youâll-â You cut yourself off, pressing your lips in a tight line. You wonât cry. You wonât.
Dean says your name, and he has to stop doing that. Itâs too gentle. Too close to something real.
âYouâre not allowed to- To go.â You look out at the empty road, praying the night is hiding the glossy tears, pricking at your eyes. âI canât- I wonât- Youâre not allowed to.â
You raise your chin, your breathing too shaky to speak for a moment. The silence hangs in the car, even the sound of Babyâs engine not enough to drown out your thoughts.
âOkay?â You snap, trying to sound stronger than you are.
Dean lets out a low sound, but nods. âOkay.â Then, under his breath. âFor you.â
You pretend you donât hear. Thereâs too much weight in those words, and you donât have the time to pick them apart, donât have the energy to ask him what the fuck that means.
Instead, you just give yourself the easiest out. Dean does love you as a friend. Youâve never doubted that for a second. Heâs doing it for you because youâre the one demanding he go have sex.
What a horrible friend you are, making him get laid so he doesnât die.
You huff a dry, pitiful, laugh to yourself. Your drink swirls in its glass, untouched and mocking. You ordered it when you got here, about thirty minutes ago. Made Dean take a possibly dangerous dose of Advil and Tylenol to make him lucid, then hidden yourself in a booth on the other side of the bar. Where you can see Dean and Emma, but only Dean can see you. Heâs supposed to give you a thumbs up, when heâs about to call the ride. Right now, he seems so engrossed in her that youâre worried heâs going to forget.
Emmaâs pretty. Just as pretty as her pictures. She lit up, when she spotted Dean, and youâd felt a sickening, loud hatred take root in your chest.
Everyone should be happy to see Dean, but none of them are happy like youâre happy. You know him. Heâs the love of your life, and your joy is born of that, not just seeing a pretty man. You love seeing him because you know youâre going to be safe. Because heâs going to smile and the world is going to be alright, youâre going to talk and heâll listen and look at you like thereâs no one else in the world, heâs going to make jokes and youâre going to laugh.
But heâs making Emma laugh right now. Sheâs got one of those high, insufferable giggles, and youâre being needlessly mean but you hate her. You have a giggle like that. It comes out for Dean all the time, and it has a little snort on the end that you hated until Dean casually mentioned that he liked it, and youâve felt like the most beautiful thing in the world.
It doesnât really matter though, whose laugh Dean likes more.
Emmaâs the one going home with him. Youâre being left here.
You focus on ignoring their laughter and voices from the bar. You canât drink, but you sulk and focus on the music floating through the bar. Your fingers drum on the table, pull at your sleeves, shred three napkins before gripping the cold of the glass like a lifeline. Your vision is going unfocused with envy. Every second you feel the wound in your heart tearing open, an infection of jealousy taking root, and you might actually be about to throw up-
Dean grunts your name, and your eyes shoot up.
Heâs standing outside your both, hands in his pockets and a deep scowl on his face. Emmaâs not with him. Or at the bar. Â
âWhere-â
âShe left.â
Your mouth falls open. âShe left? I- What the fuck happened-â
âI told her to. Wasnât gonna work out.â
âDean, you-â Your voice cracks, every thought in your head getting louder. Heâs dying, heâs dying, heâs dying. âYou promised-â
âI know.â Heâs jaw tics, eyes darting away from yours. âJust couldnât.â
âCouldnât what? Couldnât fuck her? What the hell was wrong with her that somehow doesnât meet Dean Winchesterâs if itâs got a hole standards?â
Dean flinches, and it was a low blow, but right now you donât care. Heâs going to die. Why doesnât he fucking care that heâs going to die and leave you.
âCome on.â You snap, slamming a few bills on the table and shooting up. âWeâre chasing her. Youâre apologizing.â
He frowns. âNo, Iâm not-â
âThen weâre going back on the dating app, and finding someone else.â
âI donât want someone else.â
You roll your eyes, shoving the bar door open and marching to the car. You have Emmaâs number. Youâll do the apology yourself if you have to.
Deanâs stumbling after you into the parking lot, and you canât stop yourself from looking over your shoulder every few seconds. Just to be sure he hasnât hurt himself. He calls your name, voice pained, and you freeze. Turn slowly, your arms crossed over your chest.
âIâm not doinâ this.â He snaps, stalking towards you in uneven steps. âYou can bitch and whine about it all you want, sweetheart, Iâm not fucking that girl.â
âIâm bitching and whining?â You laugh, the sound crude even to your ears. âIâm not the one who decided the best time to become a fucking celibate was when he got hit with a sex curse. Youâre the one acting like a fucking child here-â
âIâm not acting like a child-â
âThen youâre acting like an idiot!â You scream, taking a large step forward.
Dean goes rigid. Takes a long step back, like youâre poisonous. It just fuels the burning, exhausted fire, kindled by every bit of fear, of love, of fury that heâs putting you through this with almost no remorse.
âItâs not like you have to marry her!â You shout, barbed wire tightening around your throat. âItâs just sex! Fuck, you donât even have to look at her, itâs- I donât understand why this is so fucking hard for you all of a sudden, itâs not like youâre some virgin fucking pussy-â
He mutters your name, a low warning, and you ignore it.
âIâve spent all day trying to save you, Dean! I was going to be your- Your fucking sex chauffer, and I havenât been complaining, but you canât do me one fucking favor and have sex with a pretty girl?â
You take another step forward, and this time he isnât fast enough. You jab his chest, and he stumbles back like you shot him, eyes panicked and wide on yours.
âWhat the fuck is wrong with you?!â You shriek, shoving him again. âDo you want to die? Are you trying to fucking kill me? Do you hate me, Dean? Is that what this is?â
He rasps your name, and you shake your head.
âIâve been trying so- So hard to save you. I- I told you that I canât- If you-â Your words are getting choked, and the pain is too heavy to just shake off. âYouâre not allowed to go! I told you, I wonât let you, but you- You fucking hate me-â
You try to shove him again, hot tears burning down your face, but this time Deanâs ready. He catches your wrist, and you try to pull back but heâs got more strength left than you thought.
He squeezes his hold on you, stalking forward. A fire lights in your core, at the intensity of his gaze. Unyielding and hot, searing into you as your back hits the Impala. He towers over you, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as he takes in your open mouth and slack expression. You donât know how you expected him to react, but it wasnât this. This makes your knees weak, your heart hitting a dangerous pace at the top of your chest.
You can smell his cologne, smell his. A salt, deep musk thatâs just Dean, that might as well be a drug for how itâs making you freeze. Your free hand moves to press flat against his chest, but you donât push.
He grunts, his muscles rippling like you just threw a rock into water. He seizes up, head bowing, and thereâs nowhere for you to hide from him.
Deanâs tongue darts over his lips, and your breath hitches.
âDonât do that.â He grunts, and you just nod.
Lean a little closer, until the heat of your breath is fanning over your cheeks. Your eyes flutter, and when you risk meeting his gaze he looks almost predatory. The hunger in his eyes sends a pleasant shiver down your spine, your thighs pressing together, and itâs hot, so hot-
âI donât hate you.â
You blink at him. Youâd forgotten about that. âDean-â
âI donât.â He snaps. âDonât fuckinâ- Never think that, alright? I donât hate you.â
âThen why are you doing this to me?â You whisper desperately. âWhy couldnât you just go have sex with Emma-â
He shakes his head. âI donât want Emma.â
âThen let me find you someone you want, please-â
âNo.â
âWhy-â
âCause I donât want any of them.â He hisses, your foreheads bumping as he leans further down. âI donât want some random fuckinâ chick you pull for me, I donât want to fuck her, donât wanna touch her, hell, I donât even want to goddamn look at her.â
You take a shaking breath, a haze overtaking your head. âDean, you need someone-â
âYou think I donât know that?â He pushes his hips forward, and you can feel it.
His cock, straining through his jeans, pressing against your thigh. You bite down a moan, completely still in his arms, trying to make him understand with just your eyes. Itâs not fair for him to do this to you. He doesnât understand, this is all youâve ever wanted and heâs just taunting you with it-
âI can feel it, sweetheart.â He mutters, rolling slightly against you, making that fire in your core threaten to sweep you away. âI feel myself dyinâ. My muscles are hurting like I ran a mile, Iâm sweating through ten damn layers, think the fever is getting me so bad I might be about to go fucking crazy. But I didnât even notice âtill you started getting all worried. You know why?â
It takes you a second to realize youâre supposed to answer. You barely shake your head, before heâs squeezing your wrist, leaning down to whisper in your ear.
ââCause of you.â He breathes, voice soft and dangerous. âI always feel like an animal when I see you. Spent the whole car ride back from that damn house wanting to hump your leg and didnât think twice. You just do that to me, and you got no fuckinâ idea.â
You gasp slightly, turning your head to look him in the eyes. Theyâre hooded, almost feral on yours. Youâre so dizzy, youâre worried you might be walking through a dream.
âDe- Dean-â
âYou can keep looking for some random girl for me, if itâs gonna make you feel better. But I wonât fuck âem. I canât.â His lips ghost over yours, and you lean forward.
âDean-â
âSex barely even works for me anymore, baby.â He mutters, tongue flicking over his lips. âNothinâ does. I get kicked out of bed âcause I call your name. So just fuckinâ-â He squeezes your wrist again, drawing slowly back. âStop. If you wanna give me a dying wish, cut it out and let me go in some damn peace.â
You gape at him as he pulls away, his grip going slack on your wrist.
Dying wish.
He still thinks heâs allowed to die.
âWhat- What if you fuck me?â You say, so quiet you barely even hear yourself.
Deanâs head jerks up, and he says your name with a harsh, unforgiving snap. âNo. Iâm not askinâ you to do that just because Iâm some perv who canât get it up-â
âYouâve got it up.â You smile at up, pressing your knee up into his crotch.
He groans, doubling back down so youâre caged against the Impala again. âBaby, donât fuckinâ- Iâm not bending on this shit, alright. Iâm not gonna be some pity fuck-â
âItâs not a pity fuck, Iâm saving your life-â
âI told you, no-â
âDo you not want to have sex with me?â You challenge, and Dean gives you a pleading, wrathfully frustrated look.
âDonât ask stupid questions, course I wanna have- Fuck-â He groans, eyes fluttering as his brow presses against yours. âYeah. Yeah I want to. But- I wonât ask you to. So no.â
You swallow. Itâs probably the fever making his tongue so loose. Heâs so hot it almost burns to be this close, but that might just be Dean.
Itâs always just Dean. And he has to know that.
âWhat if I want to have sex with you?â
Dean grunts, shaking his head. âDonât say that if you donât mean it-â
âI mean it.â You fist your hand in his shirt, dragging him a little closer. âDo you?â
He stares at you again. Scans over your face like heâs looking for one clue that youâre just indulging him, that thereâs a single doubt running through your head.
There isnât. Your breathing is uneven, but your heart is going too fast for it to be anything else. Youâre flushed with an unending, arduous hunger to just have him, however he needs you.
Slowly, testing the waters, Dean slides a hand onto your neck. You raise your chin, holding his gaze. He squeezes slightly, and you lean into him, tugging on his shirt for more.
His thumb moves up, dragging over your lower lip. You part your lips, and his nostrils flare.
Dean pushes his thumb slowly between your lips, and you close them obediently around him. Your eyes flutter as you suck, letting your tongue circle around the thick finger, tilting your head and letting your eyes flutter. He pushes a little deeper and you moan. Your hand flies up to grab his wrist, holding him against you, and Dean groans. His eyes are clearer than theyâve been all night, shining with something like awe.
You smile, grinding up into his torso and humming with pleasure.
Dean mouth hangs slack.
âJesus fuckinâ-â
He cuts himself off, pulling his thumb out with a pop and grabbing your jaw. You giggle happily for a second, and Dean swallows the sound, crashing his mouth against yours.
Youâve pictured this kiss a million times, a million ways, almost every night since you met him. Somehow, this is better than any slow, fairytale kiss with swelling music and sunlight hitting both your faces like a spotlight.
Deanâs not taking his time. Heâs kissing you like youâre the last thing he knows, the only thing heâs ever wanted. Like a man whoâs been starving himself, finally allowed a feast and wasting no precious seconds on manners. Itâs urgent and forceful, words he canât say being pushed down your throat with his tongue and spit. You kiss him back with everything you have, your fingers digging into his chest through his shirts, your head spinning as you neglect breath just to taste a little bit more whiskey and salt on his tongue. But nothing you throw at him Dean canât seem to double.
You yank at his shirt, and he pulls your hair back. You try to grind up again, and he grabs your leg, hiking it over his hip. You grab his face, trying to kiss harsher, give more, and Dean slams down like a tidal wave, dominating your mouth with unforgiving need.
A moan escapes your throat, your body going limp in his arms, and he grunts. Ruts up into your core once, making your legs spread in a shameless invitation.
Dean grunts, yanking back like someone pulled him on a leash.
He stares at you for a long moment, his thumb finding its way back to your cheek. He smears a bit of spit over your cheek, and you tilt your head into the touch.
âYouâre sure-â
âYes.â
He nods tightly, takes a heavy breath, and leans away. âGet in the car.â
Itâs a short, curt order. You donât think twice before you obey.
You scramble into the driverâs seat, fumbling with the keys and slamming them into the port like youâre about to enter a car chase. Deanâs barely in the car before the engine is rumbling and youâre reversing out of the spot, gripping the wheel with white knuckles. Itâs happening. Itâs happening.
âEasy, baby.â He chuckles, the sound raspy and sending more shivers through your body. âYou that eager-â
âYes.â You snap, and Dean hums.
A light, almost taunting hand lands on your thigh. You glance over and find him palming at his crotch, his eyes wholly black and mouth hanging open. Itâs an animalistic expression, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, and when you murmur his name he barely seems to hear.
His fingers dance up the inside of your leg, and you take an unsteady breath, spreading your legs wider. A deep, rumbling sound leaves Deanâs chest, those infernal fingers curling on the sensitive spot where your leg meets your core. Little electric shock rush through your body, and thatâs just through the jeans.
âDean.â You whisper, not even managing to make your voice firm. âI- Iâm driving-â
âSo look at the road.â He growls, knuckles brushing against your groin.
You bite your lower lip, and nod. Itâs not worth arguing with him, and if you donât think you can focus, youâll just pull over. You told him you were sure. Told yourself that whatever he gave you, youâd be happy.
You just didnât expect him to be borderline feral. The palming you could deal with. You expected.
This is different.
Dean scoots further, and youâre about to mumble something about a seatbelt when his lips brush the curve of your neck. You inhale sharply, gripping the wheel for dear life. Dean hums, his tongue flicking over a pulse point. His fingers start to crawl up to your abdomen, his mouth getting more insistent on your neck.
He nips at a pulse point before sucking on his, his tongue flat on your skin and a low sound leaving his chest when you lean back to grant him further access. He kisses a sloppy line up your throat as his fingers dance on your stomach, and youâre starting to get a little dizzy.
âDe, be- Be careful-â
You cut yourself off with a breathy gasp, as his mouth latches behind your ear and he pulls down your zipper. He bites softly before sucking another bruise, popping the button open and slipping his hand into your pants.
âI- Fuck-â You tip your head back, hopelessly trying to keep your eyes on the road, and this is not a safe way to drive. You really should be shoving him away, but thereâs no one on the road.
And with how heâs barely even speakingâjust touchingâyouâre a little worried it might take extra effort to drag him out of the haze of the curse and push him away. He seems to be blinded to anything that isnât you. His mouth drags back down your jaw as his fingers brush over your clothed pussy, and your whole body shakes.
He hums, leaving open kisses on your cheek and hairline. âSensitive, sweetheart. Been a long time?â
You flush, and Dean starts to gather the fabric of your panties best he can through your pants. He drags it up, bunching it around your pussy, and another moan slips out from the pressure.
âAnswer me-â
âMaybe.â You mumble, forcing yourself not to grind into his hand. âYou- You know I donât do that-â
âDo what?â He presses the fabric deeper between your pussy lips. âDonât fuck?â
âDean-â
âHow longâs it been.â His words are hot against your neck, demanding and possessive. âWho touched you last, baby, who shoved their fingers in this pussy-â
âI- I donât remember-â
âThatâs fuckinâ right.â He pulls your panties tighter against your clit. ââCause they donâtâ fuckinâ matter, sweet girl. No one else is ever gonna touch you like this. Iâm gonna make you soak my fingers, my face, my cock, and itâs gonna feel so good in that smart, pretty mouth,â he kisses the corner of your lips, and only the wheel in your hands stops you from turning and claiming his mouth again. âThatâs always fucking teasing me, it ainât gonna remember a single word but my name. You want that, baby? Wanna be my perfect fuckinâ slut?â
Jesus Christ, this is worse than the not speaking. If this is a dreamâbecause youâve had them like this beforeâyou never want to wake up.
He yanks his hand away, leaving your underwear bunched up in your cunt, and slaps your pussy over the jeans. Your mouth falls open and you lean forward, lightning surging through your whole body.
âOh my- Dean-â
âI told you, answer-â
âYes, I- Yes, please-â Your words fall off into a moan, as Dean shoves his hand back against you, this time dragging the panties away and plunging two fingers deep into your pussy. âDean-â
âThatâs right.â He mutters, crooking them deep against a sensitive spot. âThatâs my girl, youâre so fuckinâ wet- This all for me?â
âMmm- Mhm-â
âFuck yeah it is.â He starts his attack on your neck again, only speaking between kisses, his fingers scissoring inside your pussy. âSo damn tight, know youâre gonna take my cock so good, bet you taste like heaven- Fuck, I wanna taste this pussy, wanted to taste it for years-â
His own words fall into a moan, and for a second you think heâs just out of dirty talk, but heâs still mumbling incoherently against your skin.
Then you risk another look at his body, and the hand that isnât in your pants has pulled out his cock.
And fuck, if it isnât the most beautiful thing youâve ever seen. Thick and long, but not painful looking. Throbbing and twitching as he jerks himself, the tip leaking and slick with pre-cum. It takes effort to look at the road and not just stare at the rock-hard, veiny marvel of a specimen between his legs.
You donât know why youâre surprised. Deanâs a specimen himself.
Heâs somehow already figured out how to finger you in such a confining position. His wrist has twisted, letting his thumb drag lazy circles around your clit, his fingers giving shallow, rough thrusts that make his fingers taunt your g-spot. Never really fully touching it, but sending shivers through your whole body.
âOh- Oh-â You have to take deep breaths to keep your head clear, your whole body winding tight with the arousal heâs pulling out of you, more and more every second. âDean-â
âShh.â He grunts, biting right under your jaw, and you squeak. âJust feel it. Sweet fuckinâ pussy, gushing around my fingers-â
You moan, loud and lewd, his deep voice not doing anything to help you keep it together.
Itâs a miracle you make it to the motel. Itâs a shit parking jobâyouâre definitely over the linesâbut youâre both alive.
You barely shift the gears before Deanâs pouncing on you like an animal. Whatever the ride was, he still seemed to be showing restraint. Now that youâre safe, all bets are off.Â
A squeal leaves you, as he flips your body. Pressing your back to the window and prowling over your body, slamming his mouth over yours and kissing until youâre slumping against the glass. Your hand flies up to grab the back of his neck, your hips rolling up to where his knee is pressed between your thighs. Your eyes dart down when you pull apart for a single, ragged breathâDean pulling your lip between his teeth, and kissing your nose and cheek like breathing is really no longer his concernâand you whimper at the sight of him, still erect and hanging out of his pants.
Dean drags your chin back up, searing his lips over yours, and you melt. Heâs a good kisser. And you knew that, but itâs not like anything youâve felt before. Itâs like youâre trading souls, like heâs trying to brand you with wandering hands and lips.
When you pull away again, your dizzy from the pleasure and force of him. You whine at the loss as he leans away, but Dean just squeezes your waist and smirks.
You hear a rip, as he claws your pants and underwear down your legs. You donât get a chance to adjust before heâs shoving your knee up against the bench, dragging the other one over his shoulder as he ducks between your legs.
âDean- Shit-â Your breathing gets shallow as his breath fans over your pussy. âWe- Weâre supposed to be doing things that are- Like blowjobs-â
Itâs so hard to argue with him when heâs between your legs. The sight alone is almost enough to tip you into a frenzy. His shining eyes looking up at you, his full lips grazing your inner thigh, leaving teasing kisses everywhere but where youâre aching for him. You run your fingers through his short, soft hair, trying to get his attention. He just makes a low sound like a purr, and presses his mouth over your clit.
You almost fly out of your skin. Heâs making out with the sensitive nerve like theyâre your mouth, his tongue dragging and pressing, his hands on your thighs kneading with every suck and graze of his teeth. All you can do is cover your mouth and try to stifle your moan.
Dean withdraws, and you make a strangled sound of frustration. He canât just do that, itâs not fair-
âNo doinâ that.â He grunts, dragging your hand from your mouth. âWanna hear it.â
You nod weakly, but still try one more time to remind him who this is about. âDean, it- itâs supposed to be stuff thatâs good for you-â
âThis is good for me.â He mutters, letting go of your thigh over his shoulder to let his fingers drag back over your fluttering pussy. âLook at you.â He mutters with pure awe. âResponsive, wet little pussy. Bet youâd like it when I do this.â
He pushes one finger knuckle-deep inside you, and you yank on his hair with delight.
âYeah, you do. How about,â he drags it out, then shoves it back in, and your head tips back against the window, eyes screwing shut.
âDean, Dean, please-â
He groans, adding a second finger and repeating the slamming motion. Once, twice, a third time. His tongue flicks against your clit on that last one, and your eyes roll back in your head.
âDean-â
Another deep sound, another flick, and youâre seconds from begging like a whore when he snaps.
Dean wraps his mouth back around your clit, resuming his ministrations from before with twice the fervor. His fingers pick up their pace, wet sounds filling the car as he finger-fucks you into oblivion.
The curse seems to have itâs full hold on him. Heâs borderline feral. Youâve never had a man who eats pussy like heâs having a five-star meal, like it really is good for him. Sometimes he just pulls his fingers out and drags his tongue down your cunt, angling his head to press his tongue deep inside you and working his jaw until your toes are curling. His nose bumps your clit and his stubble scrapes your thighs, his free hand squeezing your thigh as he devours.
âOh- Oh fuck-â You let out a vulgar, lustful sound as he drags you further forward against his mouth, the pleasure rushing through your body. âDean- God, just like that-â
He drags his mouth back up to your swollen, neglected clit, and those two fingers pump back into your hole. Itâs somehow better and worse, and a shriek rips from your mouth as he spanks your pussy, then resumes his rhythm.
âDean, please- Please, fuck- please-â
Youâre already babbling, the tension in your lower abdomen so tight itâs almost painful. Your body is shaking with the stimulation, and Deanâs working you like an instrument. He finds every hyper-needy spot that makes you moan his name and playing it like a professional. Youâre kept right on the edge for what feels like a million years, his fingers and mouth switching in and out, begging and begging as he turns you into an empty-headed, drooling wound-up mess.
Then he finally lets you over the edge.
Dean pushes his fingers right against your g-spot, and rubs. Your body seizes up, eyes crossing as his tongue flicks against your clit, and the heat built up in your gut explodes.
You shake as your orgasm rips through your pussy, your spine, every nerve in your body glowing with a deep, sex-addled bliss. Your clit is swollen between Deanâs lip as he drags you through it, your pussy gushing around his fingers and fingers yanking at his hair.
âFuck, yes- Yes-â You moan, legs locking around Deanâs head, and he groans against your pussy.
When it pulls another lewd sound from your chest, he does it again, slowly easing his fingers out and starting to clean up the mess between your thighs. He licks and hums, the sensation making your oversensitive body spasm every time he finds one of those spots.
Itâs not certain youâre going to be able to walk to the motel room, when he finally pulls away.
But thereâs a gleaming light in his eyes, that makes you think itâs really not going to matter.
Deanâs a wreck. His face is flushed, chest heaving, cock still hard but coated in a white stain that tells you heâs not close to working off the curse.
âOh, youâre gonna be so mad about that when youâre better.â You mumble, seeing the stains on his precious bench, and Dean chuckles.
âIâll get over it.â
You giggle, and Dean leans over you again, kissing you slow and deep. One orgasm seems to have cleared his head for a seconds, enough that heâs gently rubbing your bare, tender pussy, a soothing touch thatâs really only working you up more.
âLove that sound.â He mutters, and you frown against his lips.
âWha-â
âYour laugh.â He sucks on your upper lip, wrapping an arm around your waist. âLove it so much. Donât think Iâve told you that before.â
He hasnât. It somehow makes you flush more than any of the dirty things heâd been hissing in your ear before.
âYouâre telling me a lot of new things.â You manage to mumble, and he huffs in amusement.
âBlame it on the curse.â
You giggle again, and his face shines like he won a prize.
âSon of a bitch,â his eyes are already darkening again, voice getting thick with the curse-driven hunger. âI love you, you know that?â
You can only gape at him. He must not have said what you thought he said. âWhat?â
âYou heard me.â He presses his brow against yours, reaching up to cup your cheek. âI love you.â
He rasps your name, and you blink away tears.
âDean, if itâs just the curse-â
âItâs not. Itâs-â
He slides his mouth against yours and this is the romantic kiss you always pictured. Slow and devoted as he takes the time to memorize you, to bask in the glow of your heart as you shine with love beneath him.
âYou know it, right?â His voice is gravelly, his body pressing firmer over yours. Heâs going back under. He can probably feel it. âThat I mean it?â
Heâs still askingâalmost beggingâyou to tell him that you know.
âI know.â You mumble. âI- I love you too.â
Dean goes rigid over your body, and you blink up at him, as nervous as a doe in headlights. Just like the kiss, youâve dreamed of saying it. Pictured it somewhere romantic, your makeup perfect and the breeze running through your hair. Dean falling to his knees after, kissing your hands before sweeping you off your feet.
Instead youâre lying in the car, cum staining your tangled legs, everything in you ruined from being eaten out by the sinful mouth that haunts your dreams. Deanâs hovering over you, tongue darting over those same lipsâshining with your arousal, making your thighs rub together under himâand your holding onto his flannel, both your clothing stuck to your skin from sweat.
He doesnât fall to his knees. He just looks at you like heâs not sure itâs a dream either.
At least he still sweeps you off your feet.
Dean moves like a machine. Youâre not even sure whatâs happening until youâre being hit by the wind, dragged down the bench by your ankles and wrapped in one of his jackets to preserve your modesty. His dick has been hastily shoved back into his pantsâthe fly still fucking downâand youâre about to tell him youâd at least like your underwear before heâs picking it up and shoving it into his pocket.
âDean!â You gasp, and he just grunts, sweeping you fully into his arms.
âMine.â He mutters under his breath, looking around the parking lot like heâs still trying to orient himself. âI- I gotta, fuck-â
Gently, you reach up and turn his chin in the direction of your motel room. âOver there, De.â You mumble, and he nods tightly.
Heâs fully back under. You donât bother to struggle or try and convince him that you can walk, because youâre not even sure you could. Itâs not worth distressing Dean over anyway.
Despite his fever soaring and gaze being fogged by the curse, he manages you gently. When you get into the room youâre tossed on the bed and pinned back down for his mouth to work you open again, but the brusing grip is full of care, his mouth worshipful on your pussy. After that heâs rising over your body, ripping clothing like itâs a personal offense on his sensibilities and descending over you with another feral growl.
Your legs are shoved apart, but he rubs a hand over your calves almost reverently. Staring at your glistening, abused pussy with a look of pride and affection, gaze slowly dragging up your flushed breasts and thoroughly marked neck to meet yours.
You give him a honeyed, coaxing smile. Youâre his to take, if he wants it.
He makes a low sound from his chest, and starts to kiss up your body. You gasp when his lips wrap around one of your peaked nipples, sucking gently until your grinding up into him. His hand splays over your stomach, gently guiding you back down, and you whine desperately.
âPatience.â He hums, kissing over your breast before switching to the other nipple. âGonna take care of you. Fuck- Youâre so beautiful, so fuckinâ-â
Dean moans to himself, and you whimper his name, yanking on his hair.
But thereâs no rushing him. He plays with your tits until heâs had his fillâwhen theyâre swollen and youâre arching into every touchâthen works back down to your pussy. Tasting your arousal, soaked and messy and almost shamefully dripping down his hand when he touches you.
He doesnât seem to mind it at all though.Â
âMessy girl.â He grunts, twisting one finger inside of you. âThink youâre ready for some cock, arenât you. Gonna take me, princess? Show me how much you love me?â
You blink at him through tears, on the brink of screaming his he doesnât let you cum again soon. When you nod itâs like a bobblehead, and you only remember his orders from before at the last second.
âYes.â You gasp. âYes, Dean, please-â
Again, he moves.
Youâre almost a ragdoll in his arms. A ragdoll that he moves like youâre threaded from gold, tossing you around and gripping your hips so hard youâll have a handprint in the morning, but kissing over every hickey on your neck and muttering words of low, tender praise every second.
âGood girl.â He mutters as he drags his cock between your pussy lips. âGood fuckinâ girl, already cockdrunk and stupid for me, arenât you. Love taking you like this, looking at you all pretty and dumb-â
You whine, head lolling to the side. Dean slides two fingers into your mouth and you suck on them like candy, taking anything heâll offer.
He growls, dick catching on your entrance, and you shiver, looking up at him under fluttering eyes.
Dean drags you up like you weigh nothing, slowly sitting you down on his massive cock, and every thought but his name is driven from your head.
Heâs thick. So think you almost donât think you can take it, but your whine of protest is only met by cooing, filthy praise in your ears and careful circles around your clit. You donât know how he can still be so far into the curse and able to restrain himself from rutting you like a beast.
Probably because itâs Dean. That feels like explanation enough.
It takes a moment for him to bottom out, and when he does youâre sure youâve never been this full. Heâs hitting places inside of you that you hadnât known existed, dropping you into a pool of pleasure that makes your breathing stuttered, your nails scratching over his shoulders as you try to keep yourself from floating away.
Dean kisses you, hot and deep. You moan against him and he grabs your hips, starting to roll you up and down on his cock. You can tell heâs experimenting again, trying to figure out where he hits the deepest, working you open until youâre riding his cock smoothly your head falling back as pants of his name leave your mouth.
Itâs paradise. Your toes are curling with every twitch of his cock inside you, every rush of heat when he slams extra hard and hits your cervix. It takes him takes him some time to decide how he wants you , and youâd laugh at what he settles on if the air wasnât being fucked from your lungs.
Dean cums while holding you in his lap, his thrusts getting short and a groan of your name falling from his mouth when he ruts up, his cock pumping hot release inside of you and your own orgasm rolling through your body like an electrical storm. But then youâre being picked up and flipped around so your back is pressed to his chest, his arm locking around your neck and his hand returning to your clit as his fucks up into you. Then youâre moved forward onto the mattress, Dean turning your face so he can hear your moans and keeping your ass into the air as he slams from behind, his balls slapping against your clit and bringing you back up to the edge.
Youâre in his lap again, folded under him with your knees to your chest, rolled on top of him so he can play with your tits and watch you ride.
Every time he cums, youâre thrown into a new position and held there until you both fall back over the edge. Youâve never been wrecked like this before, your head empty, pussy drenching his cock as he spills and claims every spot on your body.
âDirty fuckinâ girl,â he growls into your ear from below you, dragging his fingers down your inner thigh, gathering his release on his fingers. âSo pretty, bouncing on this cock, my pretty fuckinâ baby-â
âDean.â You whine, scraping at his chest. âDean, feels so good, so fucking good-â
âI know.â He coos. âMade for me, getting so fucking stupid on my cock- Open.â
He slaps your cheek lightly, and your lips part. Dean feeds you his cum, other hand rubbing up and down your spine, and you grind down onto him with need.
âGood girl, fuckinâ- Christ youâre so good-â His thrusts get shorter, brutal and uneven. âYouâre mine, this sweet pussy is mine, gonna- Gonna fuckinâ worship you, fuck-â
He drills up into you, taking his hand away to bounce you how he likes.
You both cum, Dean calling your name and throwing his head back, watching you under hooded, still hungry eyes.
Thereâs a second to catch your breath, as he palms your breast. Pinches a nipple, rolling it between his fingers, watching how you arch into his touch.
âYou like that?â He grunts, and you hum.
âFeels good.â
âDamn right it does.â He grabs the other one, working them in tandem.
You whine his name, looking at him under pleading lashes.
Dean groans. âFuck, babyâŚâ
Heâs hard again, and youâre being moved into another position.
By the time he finds one he wants to keep, youâre a disaster of a woman. Making sounds that are supposed to be his name, boneless below him and still trying to chase more, even as your body turns into a raw, live nerve.
Deanâs got you under him again, his body pressed over yours, cock plunging in and out of your pussy at a lazy, torturous pace. Youâve been like this for what must be an hour, maybe a day, maybe fifty years. Tears of pleasure are stained on your cheeks, thereâs a wet sound with every thrust as his cum leaks out of your stuffed hole, and Deanâs praise is becoming more and more lucid.
âI love you.â He mutters, and you moan, turning your head to try and kiss him.
âDeanâŚâ
âI know.â He mutters. âI know, baby, but youâre doinâ so good. Feeling better, almost done, just gotta-â
He kisses over your face, finally capturing your lips as he starts to rut, pounding into your swollen g-spot over and over.
You barely have the energy to arch up, when you cum. You breathe out his name, pussy clenching as you feel that last bit of his cum squirt into you, and a wet, hot feeling floods your pussy as your vision goes white.
âLove you.â Deanâs still muttering as you float through the haze, his lips pressed over yours. âLoved you forever, never- Never thought-â
His voice cracks, and you know the curse is over. Heâs not getting hard again inside of you, not trying to chase more.
Just pressing his face into the crook of your neck and holding you tight, words muffled against your skin.
âThank you.â He mutters. âThank you for- For sayinâ it back, even if that wasnât-â
âIt was,â you breathe out. He needs to know. âI love you, Dean. Have for longer.â
He chuckles, squeezing your body, and you smile into the air.
You find the strength to thread your fingers through his hair, and he hums, pressing a sweet kiss to your sensitive skin. You shiver, whining softly, and he chuckles again. Both of you too fucked out to move. Youâre not sure youâre going to be able to walk in a straight line for a month.
But it was worth it.
Holding Dean here, so peacefully, was more than worth it.
âŚEnd note: please tell me if you enjoyed it i think i started my own ovulation so. oops.⌠âŚIf you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3⌠âŚBuy me a coffee!âď¸ (and get early access!)⌠âŚTaglist (Fill out this form to be added!)âŚ
