Supernatural Dreams

“Deeean-“ You whine out, and he chuckles, squeezing your ass tight.

“That’s right, baby. Call my name, tell the whole house who’s got you in their lap-“

A door slams downstairs, and you shove Dean away just as fast as he rips himself back.

You’re both panting and flushed. You can see his arousal through his jeans, and your fingers are shaking too much to get a proper grip on your unbuttoned blouse.

Your father calls your name, the stairs creaking, and you shove Dean again.

He gives you an incredulous look, mouthing what are you doing?

Closet. You mouth back, pushing him again. The man is built like a fucking tree, it’s like trying to move boulder underwater. Get- “Get in the fucking closet-“

He moves, right before the door opens.

Your father smiles at you, glancing around the room. “You doin’ alright, kiddo?”

“Yep. How was work?” You bounce on your toes, shooting tiny looks to the closet.

He has no reason to check anything. It all looks perfectly innocent. There’s no clothing scattered across the floor or stench of sex in the air. Dean hadn’t even taken his shoes off, and the sweater that he’d ripped from your body is allowed to be on the bed, because it’s your room.

And it’s not like you’ve been known to do this kind of thing.

Sleep with older men.

Sleep with anyone.

You’re pretty sure if your father had to gamble on it, he’d put down money that you were going to die alone. Which isn’t entirely unfair. You speak to men like they’re dogs—because they are—and the last time someone asked you on a date, you spent the whole time staring them with an unimpressed expression and your arms over your chest.

It’s not that you’re rude. You just refuse to lower yourself just to please someone who can’t even do their laundry without Mommy’s help. And most college boys don’t even know their food groups. There’s protein, and green stuff, and candy. That’s it. It makes you want to bash your head into a wall.

But that’s how Dean got you.

Stupid, handsome Dean and his big hands and don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take care of it. Dean and the way he picked you up like you weighed ten pounds not to show of how much he can bench, but because you’d been standing in his way teasing him, and he’d needed to move you.

He’d placed you onto the counter of the kitchen with such care, and a stern, amused look. You’d gaped at him, heat flooding your cheek and all the blood in your body confused about if it should be curling in your fists and swinging, or pooling between your legs to help you hump him like an animal in heat.

“Not so mouthy now, are you.” Dean had drawled, and that’s when you’d known.

You were a goner. He had you in the palm of his calloused hands.

It worked, because you had him wrapped around your finger.

But neither of you were supposed to be close enough to even touch.

Dean’s your father’s best friend. They met in some old man club for people who like saws and drills or whatever. Maybe it was just a workshop. Or he fixed your dad’s car, and the dumbass fell just in love with him as you were.

Dean’s great. Dean and I got coffee. Dean showed me this new Thunderbird, think I’m gonna buy it. You can drive it, when you get home, maybe we’ll put the deed in your name. I’ll ask Dean if he thinks that’s a good idea. Dean thinks it’s a great idea.

Most of your Senior year had been spent getting calls and texts from your dad about how perfect and amazing Dean was. If he knew that the man was in your closet fighting a boner right now, he might end up more jealous than angry.

It still doesn’t feel like an experiment you want the results of. Some things are better left to the imagination.

“Work was good.” Your father shrugs. “You eaten dinner?”

“Um- No.” You need to stop looking at the closet. It’s suspicious. “I was actually going to go out, and- Eat there.”

“Do that tomorrow.” He waves a hand. “Dean’s coming over tonight, we’re gonna fire up my new grill, see how she cooks.”

“I know, I just- I wanted like Chinese or something.”

“Then get Chinese and eat with us-“ Your father pauses, and you swallow. “How’d you know Dean was comin’ over?”

Shit. You can almost feel him glaring at you through the closet. You’re supposed to be the smart one, sweetheart.

It’s his fault. You can still feel where he’d been teasing your sides, and it’s making your brain all stupid and fuzzy.

You know because Dean showed up early and cornered you in the living room. Because you’d done the stupid dance where you both pretend you’re not going to cave. You’d asked why he was here. He said he didn’t need a reason. You said he did, it wasn’t his house. He’d teased that he was always welcome. You’d rolled your eyes, and asked if he was sure about that. He’d leaned over you and murmured that you sure as shit seemed happy to see him. You’d just glared, because if you spoke you would’ve started to drool. He’d muttered that, for the record, he’d been invited for the drill. But that he was really here because he needed to see you.

Then he’d shoved his hand under your shirt and kissed you stupid.

You can’t tell your dad that part.

“You told me.” You say lamely.

You can almost hear Dean’s groan.

“Oh. Huh.” Your dad shrugs it off. Why wouldn’t he. “Alright. You gonna stay?”

It’s a horrible idea. If you stay, you’re going to spend the whole time grumpy because you’d been so close, and now Dean was feet away and unable to touch you.

“Sure.”

Fuck.

Your dad takes the victory. In his eyes, you’re sure he thinks it’s a miracle that his daughter wants to hang out with him and his friends instead of going out and doing young people things. You think he forgets, sometimes, that you’ve never been all that good at young people things.

And you’re certainly not going to burst his bubble by reminding him of that. Or the fact that of course you want to hang out with his friend. Sex on Legs Winchester. Even if you didn’t have something halfway started with him, you’d stick around just to ogle the eye candy.

“Am I just a sack of meat to you, princess?” Dean mutters when you tell him as much.

You bite back your smile, and shrug. “Maybe. You gonna do something about it?”

He fixes you with an almost awestruck stare, before chuckling and shaking his head.

“You’re trying to get me killed.”

“No, I’m not-“

“Yeah, you are. I pop a boner now, your old man is gonna rip my head off.”

“So don’t pop a boner, dumbass-“

Your words fall off in a tiny squeak, as Dean grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into a deep, long kiss.

It’s far from the first time you kissed. That had been a night only a week after you’d moved back home—a long, torturous week of staring at massive biceps and imagine them wrapped around your neck, or beating yourself up in the sheets as you got off to the idea of Dean and his stupid, cocky smirk—when he’d been staying over so his house could get gassed for bugs or something. You’d smiled at him too sweetly. All his touches had lingered too long. You’d gone downstairs to get some water, and ended up on top of him on the couch.

You still haven’t slept together. Every time you get close, fucking something has to happen, and you stop.

But you’ve kissed so much you think your lips are molded to shape his.

You immediately turn to slack putty, in Dean’s arms. Kissing him back with frantic passion, leaning over his chest and moaning openly into his mouth. Your fingers find their way to his belt, then lower. Dean tips your head back further to deepen this kiss, and you paw at his bugle with a tiny whimper.

He hums, squeezing the back of your neck. “Behave.”

“Don’t want to.” You breathe out, and he chuckles.

“I know.” Dean pulls back, kissing one corner of your mouth, then the other. “You need some motivation, baby?”

You nod, fixing him with your best, doe-eyed stare. It’s the one that always makes him cave, even when he says he knows he shouldn’t.

But you both know you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t be doing any of this. There’s a long list of reason that starts with your father’s best friend and ends with massive age gap that could be followed to prevent all of this. But you both seem to get a little blind, when you look at each other. Suddenly you can’t read and Dean—a man who’s all self-control and smooth, cool collection—stumbles over his feet like a highschooler.

He says that’s how he knew this was worth it. That you do things to him that no one else ever has. You blush and giggle and press your face into the crook of his neck, and for a little while you both forget the whole world. Sometimes you whisper that he does things to you as well. You’ve never wanted to wrap around someone like this and never let go.

And that overrides all logic and reason. It doesn’t matter what kind of rules there are. You want to break all of them, just to be closer to him for a few moments longer.

“You play nice tonight.” Dean whispers in your ear, tracing lazily up and down your spine. “Then I’ll help you sneak out. Back to my place.”

“Your place?” You sound a lot more pathetic than you want to be. You really don’t know how to help it.

“Mhm. And you know what’s at my place that ain’t here?”

You shake your head, and Dean kisses the tip of your nose. It scrunches up, and his eyes shine with adoration. You’re never going to get sick of him looking at you like that. Like you’re the only thing in the world.

“Peace and quiet.” He mutters. “Just you, me, and nothing else.”

Your eyes widen, as you realize what he means. “Oh- Okay.”

“Okay?”

There’s a hint of worry in his voice. Like he needs to be sure you really mean it, even when you’re slack and folded into his arms, digging your nails into his biceps like you’re trying to leave a mark.

You nod frantically, and his shoulders relax.

“Okay.” He mutters, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You smile at him, and his throat bobs. “Behave.”

“I always behave.” You tease, and Dean snorts.

“Yeah. Alright.”

“I do. I’m very well trained.”

He chuckles, kissing you light and soft. You push up on your toes, trying to chase a little more, and Dean lets you. He always lets you.

“Don’t think you’re the one on the leash, sweetheart.” He mutters against your lips, and you giggle.

“Dogs train their owners sometimes. With feeding habits and walk schedules.”

“Hm.” He leans back, a smile twitching on his lips. “Is this feedin’, or walkin’?”

 And this is your favorite expression on his handsome face. The one where you can tell that he’s really trying to be annoyed with you, but can’t stop himself from enjoying your company. From looking at you like he wants to just lock the door and pin you to the bed until you’re giggling and beaming all the time. You’d be all for that plan, if your father wasn’t probably waiting downstairs, wondering why Dean’s running late-

Shit. Right. Your father.

“Actually.” You kiss over his beard, curling your fingers in the collar of his shirt. “I think it’s fetch.”

Dean snorts, and ducks down to kiss you again. You push him lightly back, and he stumbles like he’s been shot.

“Out the window.” You say sternly, pointing at the roof.

Dean groans, running a hand over his face. “C’mon, one more-“

“No.”

“But-“

“Behave.” You mock, and he scowls.

“Son of a bitch.” He grumbles under his breath. He’s making a face like a toddler who just got his favorite toy truck confiscated for bad behavior. It’s rather adorable. “Gonna be the death of me, woman. Can’t believe I’m so in love with a fuckin’ brat.”

“Aw, you love me?”

You say it like it doesn’t still make your heart skip to hear it. Dean sighs like he let slip some grand secret, instead of something that he’s told you countless times in dark corners and in booths of bars.

He looks at the window. He’s back to pouting again.

“It’s gonna hurt my knees.” He whines, and you laugh, closing the space between you once more.

“Tough shit, Winchester. Should’ve tried to keep it in your pants.”

“But you make it so hard-“

“I know.”

That earns you a glare, and you giggle again.

You’re both so very bad at this. Dean should already be downstairs. You shouldn’t be goading him into saying longer, but you can’t help it at all. This is your favorite kind of teasing. The one where you end up folded under him with his pretty lips wrapped around your nipples and thick fingers stuffing up your pussy and toying with your clit until you’re whining his name.

Dean’s looking at you like that’s exactly what he wants to do with you. You’re smiling at him like you’re begging for it, and neither of you ever back down from the challenge.

Then your father calls your name from downstairs. And it’s like a bucket of ice water is poured over both your heads.

“Dean’s runnin’ late!” He shouts. “You should go get your Chinese now!”

You sigh, and Dean grimaces. The urgency doesn’t stop him from grabbing your face between his hands, and kissing you one last time.

“Tonight.” He mumbles like an oath. “Just you and me.”

You hum. “Only if I behave, right?”

“Sure. Only if you behave.”

And he says it like that because you both know perfectly well that it doesn’t matter how you behave. You could sit on his lap or rub your foot on his crotch under the table, and he’s still going to open the door when you sneak over. If anything, the question is just how big a price do you want to pay tonight. How far are you willing to push him, how greatly do you want him to snap once you’re alone.

You think you want him to lose it. He’s always extra pretty when he looks like he’s about to cry from frustration, and he’s never hotter than when there’s that dangerous gleam in his eyes that reminds you he could toss you around like a sack of potatoes.

God, it sounds nice though. Being Dean’s sack of potatoes.

He sneaks out the window, and flips you off after you laugh at him for groaning the whole time. He has to sneak down the block to get his car, and you won’t be here when he arrives. You have to go get your Chinese.

But after that, all bets are off.

Dean is worse at this than you are. The sneaking around.

You get stupid and nervous when your dad is around and Dean is hiding. You told me wasn’t your best moment, but it also wasn’t that far from your worst. And you know your dad. You know that he’s not really going to question most things he tells you, because even your more obvious excuses aren’t that suspicious.

But Dean’s a fucking dumbass.

He’s your dumbass. Your old, grumpy idiot who’s some kind of genius with a wrench and a circuit board and an engine, but who stares at the crossword puzzles you do and mutters that all those letters look fake. He could find his way home if you dropped him in the middle of the woods—you call him your pigeon, and he doesn’t think that’s half as funny as you do—but he also thinks that Michaelangelo is the Ninja Turtle and needs your help writing emails. One time you asked him when he’d last gone to the doctor, and he said some time in ’07. You’d smacked him upside the head and dragged him by the nape of his neck.

Later that week, he’d been grumbling to your dad about how the doc was making him cut back on steak. His cholesterol had been through the roof. He’d protested and bitched, but you’d grabbed his jaw and snapped that if he died, you were going to leave him.

So now he’s down to only two burgers a week, and you’re very proud of him.

Which is what he’d told your dad.

Not the you part—he wasn’t that stupid—but the doctor part. And how he’d been bargained down to two burgers in exchange for other things.

Blowjobs. You might not have fucked yet, but you’d done most everything else, and you’d talked him down from a three burger a week deal with the promise of blowjobs.

Which he’d told your dad.

Because he’s an idiot.

“You’re datin’ someone?” Your dad had said in surprise, and Dean had frozen.

On the couch, you’d rolled your eyes. God, he was so lucky you loved him to death.

“I- I- Uh-“

“Why didn’t you tell me? You coulda brought her over, I wanna meet the lady who finally got you to settle.” Your dad had snorted, his voice dropping so that you probably weren’t supposed to hear it. “Hell, if she gives good enough head for you to drop burgers, I gotta meet her.”

You’d felt sick. When you’d glanced over your shoulder, Dean had looked sick.

His eyes had flitted to yours in panic. You’d given him a tight, prompting look, and his throat had bobbed.

“She, uh- She’s real busy-“

“I got time.”

“Right. Good.” Dean had looked trapped. This was the only time you saw him really stumble over his words. When it came to you.

It would be sweet, if he wasn’t a few wrong words from getting shot in the head.

“She, uh- She’s just- You know- Women-“

“Where’s she work.” Your dad had asked casually.

Dean had gone pallid. “The… Place.”

“Place?”

“Bookshop.”

“Oh.” Your father had called your name, and Dean had looked seconds from passing out. “You know any ladies at the bookshop Dean’s age?”

You’d hummed, pretending to examine your nails. “Um… Maybe Matilda.”

Matilda is the lovely old woman who you share all your shifts with. She has five cats, two grandchildren she loves more than her dolt of a son, and knows that you and Dean are dating because she caught you making out in the nonfiction section a month ago.

Dean had glared at you, and you’d just smiled back. The fuck was I supposed to say? You’d tell him later. There’s only four of us, and two are high schoolers.

He’d gotten out of the bookshop jam by saying that she worked at a different place. Your father had bought the lie, but never dropped it. He never drops any of Dean’s slip ups.

Because every time you’ve almost been caught, it’s been Dean’s fault. There was the time your bra got found in the Impala, and when Dean’s brother knew about you before you were formally introduced, and when you’d been on a date and your dad had walked into the bar. You’d shoved Dean under the table, and the fucking dumbass had decided to kiss your thighs the whole time he was down there. You’d kill him if you didn’t love him. But you also think he’d kill himself if he ever really pissed you off.

But now your dad thinks Dean’s sneaking around with some lady from out of town, and you go to bars by yourself when you said you were going out with friends. And he’s a nice, nosy man, so he hasn’t let go of either fact at all.

“How’s your girl, Winchester?” He asks Dean over dinner, and Dean grunts.

“Good. Pissin’ me off, but good.”

You stick your tongue out at him behind your dad’s back. He’s just grumpy about the couch thing.

Your dad had gone to check on the grill, and you’d put your feet in Dean’s lap. He’d grabbed your ankles and hissed for you to behave. You’d smiled at him and moved them, before immediately crawling over him. You’d had a hand resting right against his crotch, and another grabbing at his chest. You’d kissed his cheeks and neck while he just grabbed your waist for balance.

“’M so wet, De.” You’d whispered, sucking a kiss right under his jaw. “Need you so bad.”

He’d made a strangled, almost pained sound. His cock had twitched under your hand, and you’d pressed down harder.

Dean’s fingers had flexed on your waist. You’d dropped your weight onto his thigh, grinding down and moaning against his skin.

You think, if your dad hadn’t come back the next second, he would’ve flipped you over and ripped off your skirt. But you’d heard the door open, and pulled easily away. Dean hadn’t been able to stand up for five minutes. You’d giggled and run your fingers through this hair, before following your dad out on to the porch.

So he’s a little mad at you.

You hope he stays mad at you. He always kisses you like an animal, when he’s a little pissed. Then he presses your face between your breasts and mumbles about how it’s not fair that he can’t stay mad at you, and it’s a better feeling than any high in the world.

Your goal for the night might be driving him so up the wall that when he finally fucks you, he rearranges your guts in his name.

It’s not going to be that difficult to do.

“What’d she do to piss you off?” Your dad asks, and Dean makes a face.

“Nothin’. Just- She gets mouthy.” He’s still glaring at you. You pretend not to see it. “And she likes to push my fuckin’ buttons.”

“You’re fun to rile up, buddy.” Your dad shrugs, totally oblivious to you and Dean eye fucking across the room. “Just take a deep breath and tell her she’s making you mad.”

Dean snorts. “Trust me. I think she knows.”

You beam at him and flutter your lashes. His eyes narrow, his grip on the counter going white knuckled.

He is fun to rile up. You hope he never works on that.

“You know who I saw at the store today?” You dad asks you, and you hum, poking at your chow mein.

“Who?”

“Gordon.”

“Oh, shit.” You look up. “How’s he doing?”

“Alright. Think he’s livin’ at home too. Surprised you didn’t know.”

“Well, we don’t talk that much anymore-“

“He asked about you.” Your dad shrugs casually. Too casually.

You know where this is going.

“Gave me his new number, to pass onto you. Said he missed you, all four years-“

“Dad.” You sigh, giving him a flat look.

He raises his hands. “I’m not sayin’ anything-“

“Yes, you are.”

“Well- Nothin’ that we gotta read into, but you two were always so close-“

“Dad-“

“Who the fuck is Gordon.” Dean grunts, and you flush.

He looks pissed. And not you just flashed him and he’s got a boner at the table pissed.

Really pissed. Like he wants to bite someone’s head off, but hasn’t figured out who yet.

It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

“He’s- He’s just my childhood friend-“

“Childhood best friend.” Your dad corrects, and you’re going to fucking kill him and then yourself. “They were little bandits together, we all thought they’d end up datin’, but I guess they both got sidetracked.”

“We didn’t get sidetracked.” You mutter, staring at your plate.

You can feel Dean’s gaze burning into you. It’s almost impossible to look him in the eyes.

“We just- It was never like that-“

“Didn’t he take you to prom?”

“As friends-“

“You didn’t come home ‘till the morning-“

Something cracks, and you and your dad both fall silent.

Dean’s broken his mug. With his hands. One hand.

Oh, God.

You’re worried that if you stand up, there’s going to be a slick stain on your chair.

“You alright, buddy?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” Dean stares at you, nostrils flaring. “You gonna call the boy?”

Boy. Not man, boy. And he says it so mockingly, it makes you feel buzzy and faint.

“No.” You try to sound normal, but you’re sure it comes out pathetic and dazed. “I- Um- We never-“ You glance nervously at your dad, and clear your throat. “Gordon actually ditched me for Anna, on prom night. That was- It was why we stopped talking.”

“Oh.” Your dad makes a sour face. “Well, I always knew he was gonna be bad news eventually. You deserve better, kiddo, and if I see him again I’ll give him a piece of my mind- I’m sure Dean will too.”

And you have to agree with that.

Dean looks like he’s about to go and smash Gordon’s head against the curb. Your dad keeps rambling about Gordon and kids not knowing what they want and how both he and Dean will make sure you never settle for less than you deserve. Dean keeps staring at you, and you’re sure that part is true as well.

Dean’s not going to let you settle for anything less than what you deserve at all. If he can help it, he’s never going to allow you to settle, period.

You really hope he knows, that it’s him and nothing else. Never anything else. Whatever confusing feelings you had eventually developed for Gordon had vanished when you were a teenager. You’d barely had a college boyfriend—more like a few loose options you’d kicked to the curb once you decided they’d lead to pallid and sickly futures—and no one in your life has ever made you care about a relationship the way Dean does.

And you really worry sometimes, that he doesn’t understand that. You try to remind him, but the age gap hangs over your heads like a sword of Damocles. He’s said before that there has to be better boys for you. Boys your age.

You don’t want a boy your age. You want a man.

You want Dean.

And from the look of him, you’re not sure he’d be able to stomach you with anyone else.

“I’m not going to call Gordon.”

Dean looks up from the sink. You’d followed him into the bathroom while your dad cleaned the grill, desperate to make sure he understood. You like him a little grumpy and mocking. It makes everything in your chest feel wrong, when he really seems upset.

“Alright.” Is all he mutters, grabbing a towel to dry his hands.

“Dean-“

“What?”

He gives you a challenging look. You swallow, and lean back against the door.

“I love you.”

The first time you’d said it had been all romantic and dumb in the rain. It had fumbled from your lips like a prayer, and he’d kissed you until your legs gave out. Even now, months later, it has the safe effect. Dean’s shoulders slump, and his eyes soften. Everything in him softens. Just for you.

“I love you too, princess-“

“No.” You whisper, pressing your lips in a tight line. “I really love you.”

Dean frowns. “Yeah, I know-“

“Dean.” You push off the door, your eyes locked onto his. “I love you.”

No one else, is what you tell him with your eyes. Just you. Always just you.

Dean blinks, his gaze raking over your body, then darting to the door. He rasps your name, because he knows you too well. He knows that glint in your eyes, he knows the sweet smile playing on your lips. He tells you all the time, that it almost gives him a heart attack. You close the distance in small, cautious steps. Dean clears his throat, looking almost desperate for you to take mercy.

You won’t. You need him to understand.

“Sweetheart, you can’t-“

“Yes I can.” You sink to your knees, and Dean grabs a fistful of your hair.

Your drag your hands over his thighs, and his swallows hard, a vein in his brow ticking as he tries to keep still.

“Come on.” He rasps. “This ain’t behaving.”

You shrug, slowly undoing his belt buckle. “Oops.”

Dean’s chest heaves, and a small groan rumbles in his chest as you kiss his crotch. You watch him under hooded lashes, pulling down his pants and taking his underwear with them.

He’s already hard. Thick in your hand and weeping from his slit, the angry red of his cock demanding your attention, even as he tries to talk you out of it.

“Baby, you- You don’t gotta-“

“But I want to.” You murmur, slowly pumping his cock with a light grip.

Dean grunts, bucking into your hand. His head is tossed back, his eyes squeezed shut, his breath coming out in pants. You stop stroking him, and he immediately looks back down.

“What’re you-“

“Can I?” You press your cheek into his thigh, letting your warm breath fan over his balls. “Please?”

You pout, just to be sure he knows. Dean never likes making you do this. He always whines on and on about how it should be about you, not him. He says he gets off just fine tasting you and making you cum on his fingers. You’re still trying to make him understand that just the thought of him fucking your face like a toy ruins your underwear.

You’ll be sure to show him after.

Dean stares down at you, gripping the bathroom sink and petting the top of your head. He lets out a ragged breath, closes his eyes, then drags them back open. You think he might be checking that you’re still there.

You’re about to suck his soul out of his cock. He’s not going to get rid of you that easy.

“You sure?” He mutters, and you nod eagerly.

“Please.”

A feral sound rumbles from his throat. His dick twitches, and he gives the tiniest nod. 

“Is that-“

“Go for it.” A smile ghosts his lips. “Show me what you’ve got, baby.”

You give him a flat look. He knows damn well, what you’ve got. And you can see him smirking, opening his mouth to say something cocky and smug about you biting off more than you can chew.

You don’t give him the chance, before you’re wrapping your mouth around his head and swirling your tongue.

Dean groans, his blunt nails scraping against your head as his whole body tenses. You hum around him and repeat the motion, again, and then one more time for good measure.

“Jesus-“ He chokes out your name. “Warn a guy- I- Wasn’t fuckin’ ready-“

You smile, pushing further down. You suck lightly, taking his base into your hand and pumping it in time with your mouth. Dean makes a sinful, deep noise that comes straight from your dreams. He croaks out your name, bowing his head and tugging on your hair as his cock pulses in your mouth.

“Baby- Fuck-“

You take your free hand and grab his balls, slowly massaging them as your mouth picks up the pace. Dean’s looking down at you like you fell from Heaven, right onto your knees for him, and him alone.

“You’re a fuckin’ brat, you know that? Just- Lookin’ at me and- Shiiit-“

He’s losing composer. It’s what you live for. The way his eyes roll back and he starts to shallowly thrust between your lips, letting drool slip down your chin and pre-cum leak over your tongue.

“Mouth was made for me.” He grits out, his teeth bared and voice tight. “Pretty little slut, know you love this shit. You’re wet, aren’t you. Drippin’ all over the floor for me.”

You moan in agreement, and Dean slams his hips forward. His cock bruises the back of your throat and you have to relax your jaw to stop yourself from gagging. Dean tenses, his voice raw and strained.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m sorry-“

You’re not having any of that.

Dean cuts himself off with another guttural sound as you push yourself forward. Your nose brushes his abdomen, your jaw unhinged to take all of him, and it’s still not enough. You stick out your tongue, flicking the underside of his cock as you squeeze his balls.

“Son of a bitch- You-“

You suck, letting your throat squeeze around the head of him. He makes another, feral sound, and tugs at your hair.

“Baby, shit- You’re so fuckin’ warm, and- You gotta get off or-“

He almost whimpers as you pull back, sliding off his cock with a pop and stroking it as you leave an open-mouth kiss on the swollen head. Dean’s fingers flex, and you know he wants to shove you back down.

You give him a soft smile, kissing down his shaft, then over his balls. You suck there for a second, still jerking his cock in your free hand, and he finally snaps. Pulling you back by your hair and giving you a wrecked, hopeless look. He’s trying to use his listen to me voice, but he seems to know it’s a lost cause. You’ve got him exactly where you want him.

He says your name like a prayer, and you open your mouth. Stick out you tongue, fixing him with a challenging glare.

Dean swallows. “You sure- Fuck-“

You flick your tongue over his head, squeezing the base of his dick tight.

Dean shakes his head, looking up like he’s praying.

“Gonna be the death of me.” He mutters, and you know you’ve won.

You keen as Dean’s grip on your hair tightens. He shoves you right down his cock, pushing against the back of your throat before yanking you back. You moan around him, your eyes watering from the overwhelming taste and force. You’re barely more than a cocksleeve for his pleasure, and that’s exactly what you wanted.

Dean barely able to think outside of where he’s fucking your mouth, making broken and worshipful sounds, calling your name with every thrust.

“Fuck, baby- Takin’ it so good, love you like this, choking on my cock. Look so pretty for me, wish I could take a picture- Fuuuckkkk-“

He tosses his head back, still watching his cock pump between your lips. He gets transfixed and babbles, coming apart above you as you just keep smiling and taking it.

“Pretty girl,” he grits out. “My pretty fuckin’ slut, sucking dick like a damn vacuum- Crying for me, baby girl, you need this cock that bad-“

You mewl in agreement, dizzy from the praise. You do need his cock that bad. If the thoughts weren’t being fucked from your head, you whimper that no one fucks your mouth like he does. No one makes you feel so holy and used all at the same time. You’re so wet you feel it every time you shift, so wet you’re worried he’s going to be able to smell it. But you love this. The taste and weight of him, and how no one gets it but you.

It’s almost pornographic, the way he’s taking your mouth. Your lips shine with spit and pre-cum, tears pour down your cheeks as his thrusts become jagged sharp, and sweat shines on Dean’s thighs as you keep working his balls. They’re getting tight and heavy in your hands. He’s about to loose it.

“Baby-“ He taps your cheek, words pushed out between moans. “Baby, I- I’m gonna-“

You sink your nails into his thigh. You’ve never failed to swallow before, and you’re not starting now.

Dean hisses out your name, but doesn’t stop. You moan around him, sucking as hard as you can to shove him over the edge.

He cums hard, shooting thick ropes of release down your throat. You unhinge your jaw, and manage to get most of it. But he always lets out so much, and a fair amount ends up smeared with your tears and dripping down his legs.

You pull slowly back, and start to lick up what you weren’t able to get on your first try. Dean hisses, sensitive from the orgasm, and strokes his hand through your hair. His gaze is fixed on where some had dripped down to your tits. You have a feeling that if you were really, truly in private, he’d shove his face into your chest and clean you up himself.

“You are-“ He lets out a broken laugh, as you smile up at him. “Something else.”

“You’ve told me.” You tease, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“Too proud of it.” He grumbles. “Like you want to be over my knee later.”

You shrug, eyes sparkling. Dean’s jaw ticks.

His thumb swipes over your cheek, where a little bit of the cum is still stained.

“Open.” He mutters, and you obey.

He presses his thumb between your swollen lips, and you take it with a happy hum. Dean groans, watching you suckle his release of his finger. You flutter your lashes at him. He pulls out, smearing spit over your cheek.

“I’m goin’ in an hour.” His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard it. It sends an excited, electric thrill between your legs. “You better follow, or I’m comin’ here and fucking you in your daddy’s house.”

You nod like a bobblehead, unable to even find the words. Dean laughs and pulls you to your feet, kissing you harshly. It’s messy and open, possessive in a way you’d never found hot before you had him.

Other boys being possessive had seemed like they thought of you as a nice little toy they threw a tantrum over having to share. With anyone, even your friends.

Dean being possessive makes you feel priceless. Treasured. He’s yours, and he doesn’t want you to forget it. You can do whatever the hell you want, just so long as you remember that he’s yours.

Your dad is calling for you again. Dean slips out of the bathroom first—he doesn’t have cum and drool to clean off his face—but not before kissing your cheek and slapping your ass.

He says you’re going to be the death of him, but he’s bouncing around like he’s ten years younger. You’re the one who needs to clutch the railing as she walks downstairs. He didn’t even fuck you and it’s hard to walk from the throb between your legs.

You’d been right. You’d completely destroyed your underwear, turning it to just a soaked scrap of lace.

And Dean might have you begging at his feet, but you don’t roll over that easy. You pulled off your panties before you left the bathroom. You keep them bundled in your fist while Dean talks to your dad for the last hour, sitting on the counter with your legs crossed. When it’s time for him to go, he wanders over to give a perfectly innocent goodnight.

His eyes are gleaming, as he drawls see you around, kid.

Kid.

He knows you hate it when he calls you kid. And suddenly, you don’t feel bad anymore.

“Night, grandpa.” You say lightly, and Dean laughs, but it’s rougher than before. You can see it in his eyes, the way he’s planning out every single way he’s going to make you pay for that.

Then you stick out your hand, and he blinks. There’s a confused, cautious shadow over his face as he takes your hand and shakes it. You cover it with your fist, and slip your panties into his grip.

Dean pulls back with a frown, looks down, and coughs so loud he staggers. You bite your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. Your father looks up from the sink with a worried face.

“You alright, Dean?”

“Yeah, uh- Yeah.” He stares at you, working his jaw. His words are pushed through his teeth, and you can see his cock, already straining through his jeans again.

His closes his fist around your panties, and shoves them into his pockets. Your dad asks him something else, but you don’t hear it. You’re fully fixed on Dean. On the dangerous promise in his eyes.  

You’re in trouble.

Good.

Dean lives more than twenty minutes away, but you make the drive in fifteen.

You’re desperate, and past denying it. You’ve got the hottest man alive waiting for you and finally about to fuck you, anyone else would be breaking traffic laws as well.

It wasn’t hard to sneak past your father, especially because you failed to sneak past him. You got downstairs and found him watching TV. You’d thought he was in bed, and the blood had drained from your face.

“Dad, uh- You’re-“

“Just watchin’ Jeopardy.” He’d said, not looking away from the screen. “You going to Dean’s?”

You’d tripped over nothing, and choked on the air.

“I- I don’t- I’m not- What-“

“Don’t insult me, kiddo.” He twists, giving you a flat look. “I ain’t blind and stupid. He had a hard on the whole night.”

“Um-“ You fidget with your fingers, unsure if you should run or just drop dead. “That’s- Maybe he was texting his girlfriend-“

“He never texts his girlfriend. He just texts you.”

You open your mouth, then close it. You’re dead. Dean’s dead. Your dad is going to kill him and you’re never even going to get to have sex, and that’s such a huge bummer because you’re just going to sit at his grave forever, and turn into a tree like some old myth, and then your dad is going have no one to talk to sports about. Everyone is losing in this scenario. It’s awful.

“Was it his fault?” You say, because it’s all you can think of. “That you realized?”

Your dad snorts. “Oh, yeah. I had suspensions-“

“Suspicions-“

“I caught you on a date.” He says your name dryly. “You said you were there alone, but his car was in the lot. He said he was datin’ a girl who worked in a bookshop. You’d been wearing his shirt to bed.”

Your mouth falls open, your cheeks burning.

“Oops.”

“Yeah. Oops.” Your dad sighs, turning back to the TV. “Realized when he let me call you on his phone. Dumbass opened the message thread for me and everything.”

Oh. Oh no.

Again, there wasn’t much outside of sex that you and Dean hadn’t done. Which, tragically, included sexting.

A lot of sexting.

Photos of you in lingerie and dick pics and voice memos and a lot of videos, and you’re going to throw up-

“You- You didn’t-“

“Saw more of Dean than I ever wanted to.” Your dad mutters, making a face like he’s also going to be sick. “Was about to punch him for sending that shit to you, but there was a voice memo with it. Listened for about ten seconds, almost got sick, realized it was at least mutual.”

You cringe. You remember that voice memo and photo, just as well as you remember your dad calling you on Dean’s phone because his was dead. You’d thought he sounded weird. You wished you hadn’t been so right.

“I’m so sorry-“

“He treat you well?”

You blink. You almost don’t understand the question.

“Of- Of course he does.”

“Hm.” Your dad frowns at the TV. “He gonna marry you?”

“Dad-“

“I’m just sayin’.” He shrugs. “If he’s puttin’ us all through this, he better hope he doesn’t break your heart. You know I was in the military.”

You almost laugh. “He was in the military-“

“I was ranked higher.”

“Dean was a marine-“

“You think I couldn’t kick his ass?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “I think you don’t have to, because he won’t break my heart.”

For a second, you just stare at each other. Then your father huffs, and slumps back into the couch.

“Good.” He waves a hand. “Have fun.”

You nod, then go still.

Have fun.

That’s… Approval.

Your dad knows about you and Dean, and he—begrudgingly, but that’s the best you can hope for—approves.

So that should be the first thing you tell Dean when you get through the door. That you don’t have to keep hiding. You’re rehearsing breaking the news your whole drive over, mumbling the speech under your breath when you knock on the door.

But then Dean opens it, and suddenly there’s only one important thing in the world.

Greetings are forgotten, as Dean wraps an arm around your waist and drags you into his chest. You whimper as his mouth slams over yours, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him further down.

“Haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you since I left.” Dean groans, pulling your jacket off with scrambling hands. “Got in the car and wanted to turn around, sneak back through the window like a fuckin’ teenager- Jesus, you don’t know what you do to me-“

You surge up on your toes, throwing your arms around his shoulder and kissing him until you’re breathless and swaying.

“I- I know.” You whisper. “God, Dean, I know-“

He makes one of those deep, hungry, rumbling sounds, spinning you both around so he can kick the door close. You stumble closer, pressing him back against the wall as your pull his upper lip between your kiss. Dean grunts and crashed forward, grabbing your face between his hands and pressing back.

“Needy.” He mutters between open mouth kisses. “Needy fuckin’ girl, can’t even let me take a breath, can you?”

You tip you head back, your words breathy and high as Dean starts to kiss over your neck.

“You- You kissed me first.”

Dean hums, nipping at your throat. He’s dragging his hands down your sides, slipping one under your shirt to caress your spine while the other gropes at your ass.

“I did, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.” You mumble, lost in the heat of his mouth. He’s sucking on a sensitive pulse point, letting his tongue flick over the skin, and he knows what that does to you. “De- Dean-“

“Guess I’m the one who couldn’t wait.” He says, but it’s mostly to himself. “Been dreamin’ of this for so long, sweetheart. You here.” He kisses further down, pulling down your shirt to get access to the top of your chest. “’Bout to be in my bed.” He bunches up the fabric of your shirt, and only his arm around you is keeping you upright. “’Bout to be on my cock.”

He hisses the last words before rushing back up into a starved, sloppy kiss. He rips off your shirt in the same second, before smoothly unclipping your bra. You gasp as the cold air hits your nipples, nails scratching at Dean’s neck.

“Shit- Dean-“

“I’ve got you.” He scoops you into his arms, kissing your cheek.

“Do you-“ You swallow at his flat, amused look. “Sorry.”

His lips twitch, and he doesn’t break your gaze as he walks down the hall. “You know, you always get mouthy when you’re horny.”

You scowl. “I do not-“

“You do-“

“No, I-“

Dean cranes his neck, capturing your lips in a slow, lazy kiss. You respond in a second with a light tug of his hair, eliciting another pleased, low rumble from his chest.

He pulls back, and you chase him. Getting one more, quicker kiss that he melts into within a second.

“You do.” He rasps, nipping at your nose. “You turn into a real brat.”

You glare, ready to snap something that would only prove his point. But Dean grins, and suddenly you’re being dumped down onto his bed. You yelp at the sudden movement, wiggling and holding him tight enough to strange. Dean grunts, falling forward and barely managing to brace himself over you as you both crash down to the mattress.

“Jesus-“ He mutters your name, and you shove his shoulders.

“You surprised me-“

“You almost killed me-“

“Oh, you’re fine-“

“I’m old, that coulda broken my knees-“

“Shut up.”

You grab his face, pressing up for another stumbling, frantic series of kisses. You’ve kissed Dean pretty much everywhere—on his body and geographically—but this is always your favorite place. On his pretty mouth, under him in his bed. There’s nothing around you that isn’t Dean, and it’s intoxicating. The pine and spice scent of him, the heat of his body, the fact that he just lay here by himself sometimes. Thinking of you, the same way you think of him.

Dean wraps his arms around you, pulling you up off the mattress. You hook your leg over his waist, flipping you both over so you’re straddling his lap and kissing him everywhere you can reach. You grind down onto his sweats, and he moans shamelessly, his fingers digging into your hips.

“You- You’re not wearing your fucking panties-“

“I gave them to you.” You mumble, pressing your ass down against his thickness. The fabric scrapes against your bare pussy, offering perfect friction, and you start to hump him like you’re in heat.

 Dean drags his hand up your spine, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you up his chest. He lets you keep working yourself down on his bulge for a few seconds longer, moaning into your mouth as you tease him.

“Dirty, dirty girl.” He scolds, the mocking tone in his voice just spurring you on.

He knows you love it. That’s why he likes it.

“Walkin’ around in just a skirt.” He dips a hand under your skirt, palming at your bare ass cheeks. “Should’ve folded you over the couch to see it. Pretty fuckin’ pussy, bet it’s already nice and wet for me.”’e

He reaches further down, and you gasp as his fingers brush your cunt. He’s right. Of course he is. Dean might know your body better than you do.

“Shit- Dean-“

“Shhh.” He splits two fingers, rubbing them over the outer lips of your pussy before pinching them together.

You whine, trying to hump up into his hand, but he splays his palm on your lower back and presses you back down.

“Behave.” He grunts. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For me to fuck you how I want?”

He squeezes harder, his thumb grazing over your clit. Your whole body tremors, and you press your face into the crook of Dean’s neck.

“Ye- Yes.” You pant. “But- You’re not fucking me- You’re just- Oooh-“

He flicks his thumb this time, and it’s like a tiny electric shock. You don’t know how he always does this. It doesn’t matter if he’s got his hand between your legs or your pussy right on his face, he plays it like an instrument. It would make you scream if it didn’t feel so good.

“Well,” Dean muses, dragging his thumb in slow torturous circles as he starts to rub your pussy again. “I told you to behave earlier. And did you?”e

You shake your head, almost so overwhelmed from the attention on your core that you forget how to speak. “N- No.”

“That’s right. So I’m gonna fuck you,” he pulls his hand away for a second, landing a sharp slap on your ass before pushing it  back. “When you remember how to be a good girl.”

You whimper, but don’t argue. This is what you’d asked for, with all the teasing.

You’d just thought he’d give it to you rough. That’s what behave usually meant. An invitation for you to test the line, if you wanted him to pin your on his mouth and make you cum under you were begging him to stop. Once it meant lying over his lap while he fingered and spanked you, and you’d cum so hard you saw stars.

But that’s not what this is.

You’re melted over Dean’s chest, and he’s being lazy and mean. He keeps playing with your pussy like it’s a cute little toy. Just brushing it and rubbing your clit with barely any pressure.

“Mo- More.” You plead. “I need more-“

You almost sob, as he pushes one finger just into your entrance before taking it away. You hug him so tight you think it must hurt, but he doesn’t even grunt.

“Look at that.” He coos in your ear, smearing a little bit of your arousal on your thigh. “You’re making a mess on me, baby. Just from a little bit of touchin’.”

“Was- Was not a little bit-“

“Wasn’t much.” Dean muses, landing a sharp slap on your swollen pussy. “But it never takes much to get my girl wet, does it.”

You shake your head, tears pricking at your eyes again. You’d beg if you had the words, but right now you’re just trying to hold on.

“Everything makes you so horny.” Dean drawls, going back to rubbing his big, warm hand over your pussy. “Remember when we got ice cream? Had to fuck you in my car, ‘cause you couldn’t even wait to get to the damn house.”

“You- You were- You were wearing a really nice shirt-“

“Sure, princess. It was the shirt.”

“It was-“

Dean slaps your pussy again, and your words fall into a whine.

“You ashamed of the truth, princess?” He teases, right in your ear. “How you really wanted me to stuff you up, fuck you and fill you like the cumslut that you are?”

You keen, and you can’t stop yourself from humping his hand again. This time, Dean lets you. He knows you need it.

“That’s right, baby girl. I know you like that.” He bites your ear, and you wiggle your ass right onto his fingers, trying to force one or two inside you. “I remember how I came on your thighs. You almost got me to put it in that day. One more of those pretty pleases and I woulda caved.”

“De- Deeaan-“

“Kept those panties too. I got a whole drawer for them, just for when I miss you.” He kisses the side of your head. “And I always fuckin’ miss you.”

The tears start to flow, half from the debaucherous sweetness of Dean’s words, and half from desperation. If you don’t cum right now, you’re going to explode.

And you’re close. You’re so close. Your pussy is clenching around nothing, but you’ve gotten the tips of Dean’s fingers to press onto your clit, and the sensitive little button is going to be enough to get you over the edge. He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls it up, forcing you to meet his eyes as you work down onto his fingers. You sob in desperation, lips quivering and tits bouncing. Dean groans, pushing up to kiss you as hard as he can. And you’re so close.

Then the asshole stops.

He pulls his hand away, slaps your pussy, and stops.

You make a strangled, broken sound of defeat, and Dean just chuckles. He makes you both sit up, massaging your ass and kissing away your tears.

“Nice try.” He smiles, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “You think you earned bein’ able to cum?”

“Ye- Yes.” You pout hopefully, and Dean chuckles.

“Aw, sweetheart. You ain’t even mouthy anymore.”  

You swallow. “I- I can be-“

“Jesus.” Dean laughs, and that pools right in you tummy, the embarrassment stoking an already raging fire. 

Dean’s rubbing your sides, kissing all over your shoulders as breasts as you just try to breathe. You earned this. You really did. But god, it’s a perfect torture. He’s just kissing and touching you, in a way that would almost be innocent if you weren’t soaked wearing just a skirt and leaving a stain on his jeans. 

“’M sorry.” You breathe out, wrapping your arms around Dean’s head.

He hums, taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Your eyes flutter, and it’s hard to stay focused. He’s so warm, his tongue dragging in little circles. You swallow, your voice getting higher as he starts to suck.

“I- I’m sorry I teased you, De- I- Pleaseeee-“

Dean moves away, grabbing your jaw and holding it back for him to inspect. You give him your best, pleading expression and pray it breaks him.

He taps your lips with his thumb. “Open.”

You obey in a second, and Dean’s lips twitch. He leans down, and spits right into your open mouth.

He’s done this before. It practically makes you gush every time. And it doesn’t help that he’s wrapped all around you, watching you with such teasing affection as you take it so easily. You swallow, and blink up at him with a fucked out, dazed expression.

“Good girl.” He mutters, and you beam up at him. “Yeah, I know. You like bein’ a good girl.”

God, you do. And from Dean’s lips, the words feel like a rush of adrenaline.

“But you’re not gonna learn, are you?” He drawls. “Gonna keep me on my toes, running around trying to find places to fuck you that won’t get us arrested.”

“Maybe,” you whisper. “But you like me like that.”

That makes him laugh again, before he pulls you into a shockingly sweet, slow kiss.

“Damn right I do,” he mutters, before pulling back way. “Alright. Up.”

You blink at him. “Huh.”

“Stand up.” He nods to the foot of the bed. “Take off your skirt, ‘n come back.”

“But- You’re- You’re still-“

“Trust me, sweetheart.” Dean kisses the tip of your nose. “If I keep these pants on longer, Little Dean is gonna suffocate. I’ll take care of it.”

You giggle softly, and obey the command. The air feels cold, without Dean there folded over you. It’s just further motivation for you to push down your skirt and wait for his next request.

And you’ve been naked in front of Dean before. Many times, to varying degrees. But you’ve never done it like this.

Just… Bare. Wearing nothing and standing for him to see so clearly, as he pulls off his jeans and shirt then settles at the headboard. He’s taken his cock in his hand, and started to stroke it slowly. Looking you up and down with a lazy grin. Your skin prickles with anticipation, and with anyone else you’d try to wrap your arms around your stomach or shrink back and hide. And the first time you tried that, he’d pinned your hands over your head and fingered you until you squirted.

So maybe you should try it.

“Don’t even think about it.” He growls, when you move. “Wanna see you, baby.”

You swallow, shifting on your feet. “You can see me.”

“Hell yeah, I can.”

Dean’s gaze is burning into you. And it’s the most impossibly sensual thing you’ve ever see, Dean’s massive cock in his hand. The way it twitches and jumps as he touches it, as he watches you. He grunts, his hand staring to beat harder, and you press your thighs tight together.

It’s just you, that’s making him all flushed and hard. You almost start to drool again, thinking about crawling down the mattress and taking him back in your mouth. How he’d probably let you, with how he’s got lidded eyes and making low, rough grunts.

It’s a powerful, beautiful feeling.

But unfortunately, not enough to stop you from scrambling forward the moment he stretches out a hand.

Dean laughs, spinning you around so your back is tucked into his chest. His hand that hand been on his cock hitches up your leg, and the other wraps around your stomach, his fingers grazing under your breast. You tip your head back against his shoulder, closing your eyes and getting lost in the feeling. Dean, wrapped so fully and completely around you, keeping you nice and warm in his massive arms.

“Look at you.” He kisses along your jaw, fingers dragging over your sensitive inner thigh. “Nice and stupid for me already. Ready to be a pretty doll and take this cock.”

“Need it.” You breathe out, grabbing his forearm. “Pleeease, Dean, I’ve been waiting so long-“

You moan as he parts the swollen lips of your pussy, letting his cock slip and rub between your folds.

“I know you have.” He mutters. “Been waitin’ longer. Almost lost my mind, knowin’ how tight and warm you were but not being able to fuck you. Fuck you right, fuck you properly, fuck you ‘till you ain’t ever gonna remember another mans name.”

“Just you.” You manage to whine out, pushing your hips up to get a little more friction. “Always just you, Dean, don’t want anyone else, never wanted anyone else- Fuuuck-“

He pushes inside. It’s slow and careful, deft fingers rubbing your clit to help you relax. It’s not like much help is needed, though. He’s so big you can’t close your fingers around him, but he slips into your cunt like a glove.

“Shit-“ Dean groans in your ear, lips hot and wet on your skin. “Greedy pussy swallowing me up, baby, knew you’d take me so good, take me perfect-“

He bottoms out, pressing against a gooey spot deep inside you body. Nobody’s ever really hit it before, let along split you open so well it gets a consistent, throbbing pressure. His tip kisses your cervix, his breathing ragged in your ear, and you both need a few seconds to adjust.

You turn your head, trying to chase his mouth, and find Dean already there. He kisses you slowly, open mouthed with his tongue mapping every inch of your mouth. His arms are fully wrapped around your stomach, and you cling to them like a seatbelt. You’re lightheaded in the best possible way. Dean hums against your lips, and the sound vibrates inside of you.

You mewl, tossing your head back and clenching down. Dean hisses, and pulls you further back into his chest.

“Son of a bitch, you can’t just-“

“Sorry.” You whine out, turning your face to hide in his neck. “Just- ‘S big, Dean. So big.”

Dean chuckles. It doesn’t help.

“Big, huh?”

“Don’t milk it.” You grumble, and he laughs fully.

“I don’t think I’m the one that’s gonna be doin’ the milking, princess.”

He thrusts up, and you whimper.

“Dean-“

“That’s right.” He repeats the shallow thrust, and your moan gets loud. “Sing for me, baby, show ‘em who owns this pussy.”

“Y- You.” You stutter out. Your head is empty. You don’t think you can fit Dean’s cock and thinking at the same time. “Dean- Deeean-“

He attaches his lips to your neck again, sucking and kissing as he pushes you further down on his cock.

But he stops thrusting. He just has you… sit there.

On him. So full you can barely breathe, every nerve in your body stimulated but being offered no relief.

“What- What’re you-“

“Wanna keep you’re here for a while.” He murmurs, his kisses slowing. Becoming lazy and over attentive again, without giving you what you really need. “Just like this. My perfect fuckin’ girl, look at you.”

He taps your clit, and you try to arch up into the touch, but his hold is too strong.

“Fuck- Dean-“

“Just a little bit, baby.” He coos, rubbing your clit with the very tip of his fingers. “Just hold it for me.”

And God, you try. You sit on Dean and let him tease and touch you however he wants. He drags circles around your clit until you’re panting and whining, then moves his attention back up to your nipples. Tweaking and rolling them between his fingers, kissing over your neck and shoulders as his cock twitches inside of you with every lewd moans of his name.

“You like that?” He murmurs, and you nod.

Then he stops it, kissing the sob out of your mouth and moving onto something else.

He’s done this to you before. Had you in his arms and teased you until you couldn’t take it, then let you cum. But he’s never done it while sheathed inside of you. It heightens everything, making it impossible to think outside of his hands and lips and cock. His thick cock, not pressing against your ass, but buried in your cunt and still hitting all those sensitive places.

You’re on fire, and Dean’s just letting you build and build and build up to an explosive pressure. There are spots dancing behind your eyes, when he starts rubbing your clit in fast, brutal circles, then stops just before you can fall over the edge. You claw at his arms, wrecked beyond words, sobbing and trying to get away and get him closer.

For a second, you make the mistake of bowing your head. Your eyes flutter open, and you get a full view of Dean’s cock settled inside you. His balls pressed right against your ass, the way he almost fit everything in, but there’s still a bit of his base that didn’t make it. It’s slick with your arousal, dripping right out of your pussy as you whimper.

“De- Deaaan-“ It’s all you’ve been moaning, for who knows how long.

You’re so overstimulated, time is starting to blur. Maybe it’s been an hour, maybe only five minutes. It feels like you’ve been here forever.

“Please- Please-“ You blubber, leaning back to look at him under tear-stained lashes, the words falling from swollen lips. “I- I’ll do anything, oooooh- Fuck-“

Dean gives a shallow thrust, and your whole body spasms. He’s watching under hooded, lust blown eyes. And if the starved, animalistic look in his eyes is any clue, if he doesn’t cave for your sake, he’s going to cave for his.

“You gonna be good for me?” He rasps, and you nod frantically.

“So good- Please-“

Dean kisses you again, but this time he shifts you in his arms. His arm wraps around your neck, pinning you fully to his chest in a headlock. Your eyes roll back, a dazed smile covering your face.

His movements are relaxed and controlled, but you can see the feral glint his eyes.

You won.

“Perfect fuckin’ pussy, making a mess all over this cock.” He grunts out, bending his knees so you’re fully folded into his lap. “Could die here, baby- Fuucckkk-“

He seems to lose his own voice, the second he starts thrusting up into you. A beautiful moan rumbles in your ears, and Dean presses his nose tight against the side of your head. You whimper, holding onto him tight, mostly to try and keep grounded.

Dean’s fucking into you at a rough, snapping pace, and this is what you’d expected, but it’s better than you could’ve dream. The feeling of every vein and inch of him being pushed though your cunt. The obscene sounds of his cock slamming into you cunt, his arm around you forcing your head back onto his shoulder, giving you a full glimpse of Dean as your pussy strangles and squeezes him.

He looks destroyed, panting broken praise in your ear as his lips droop and his mouth hangs open.

You push up a little, managing to get his attention with a whimper. He gives you a curious look, then understands in a second. His lips mold over yours, and you babble some cockdrunk nonsense against his mouth. You’re fully crying again, so lost in the pleasure that you can’t even find the shame to care. Dean’s drilling up, pushing every thought in your head away into a pleasurable haze.

He pulls your knees up higher, letting him hit even deeper than before. Each stoke is deep and rough, and you’d been worked up so well that your pussy is just weeping and taking him like you’re a fuckdoll. You feel like one, in the best possible way. Stuffed up and pounded with abandon, slicking Dean’s cock so that it drives right back into your like a toy.

You moan, letting your eyes close and drowning in the impossibly good feeling. You can’t believe you waited this long. If Dean fucks like this, you might never get off his cock again.

“That’s it,” he squeezes your breast before moving those sinful fingers back down to play with your clit. “Takin’ me so perfect, baby girl, just gotta cum for me- Cum all over my dick, show me how much you love it- Come on-“

That’s really all it takes. Dean’s everywhere around you, his cock bullying into that gooey spot, and your orgasms hits you so hard you think you black out. The heat that had pooled in your stomach explodes and floods all your senses, pouring out of your pussy as your hips buck and you squirm in his grip.

Dean groans your name, and his thrusts get tighter. Faster and more brutal as he chases his own release. It prolongs your own orgasm, forcing it to drag out as you vision dances with spots.

Dean slams home, turning your head to find another, bruising kiss, and now you might be ascending. He’s cumming deep, deep into your pussy, and the sounds get better as he fucks it back into you. Everything in you is so full, you think you might be about to burst with light.

You get a soft kiss on your brow, as his grip loosens around your neck. When he finally settles and tries to pull away, you fumble to grab his wrist, fixing him with a pleading stare. You don’t ever want to be empty again.

“Gotta take care of you, baby.” Dean mutters, kissing the back of your hand. “We can do more later. When you’re talkin’.”

You roll your eyes, and he chuckles, booping your nose. You wrinkle it, and he kisses the angry pout off your lips.

“Silly girl.” He murmurs, and just like that you’re melting again. “Like I could live with myself if I didn’t fuck you again.”

You flush, and roll over to hide it in the sheets. Dean laughs, kissing the base of your spine and slapping your ass before fully standing up.

And you learn another difference between boys and men. All the douchebags you’ve slept with before rolled off of you and started smoking or talking about something unimportant.

Dean gets you water, and coaxes it down your throat. He draws a bath and carries you into it, but not before making sure you pee. He changes the sheets and gets you clean clothing and brings you a snack, smiling at you and kissing the top of your head every single time.

“You’re like a maid.” You mumble once you’re back in bed, curled into his chest.

He laughs, grinning down at you. “Only for my favorite girl.”

“I’m your favorite?”

“Don’t be a brat.” He gives you an amused look. “Don’t think you’d be able to handle another round, honey.”

You sigh dramatically, flopping fully onto his chest. You prop your chin up, watching him watch you. There’s that quiet, unending adoration again. You wish you could see it every second of every day, instead of sneaking out and-

Oh.

“Shit.” You sit up, and Dean grunts, grabbing your waist to keep you steady.

“What, what’s wrong-“

“I- Um- You can’t get mad.”

Dean says your name in a low warning, and you swallow.

“My- My dad- He, um-“

“Sweetheart-“

“He knows!” You blurt. “He’s known for a while, actually, and it’s- It’s actually your fault, you showed him that dick pic and voice memo you sent me-“

“I what-“

“You did it by accident! But you still did it, and-“

“Which one did he hear?” Dean demands, and you cringe.

“The one about- About tying me up.”

Dean goes pale. He groans, tipping his head back and grabbing onto you like he thinks someone’s going to rip you away.

“God fuckin’- I’m dead-“

“No!” You grab his face with a smile. “You’re not! He’s fine with it!”

Dean blinks. “He is?”

You nod. “He- Well, he wants to know when you’re going to marry me, but- Um-“ You laugh nervously. Dean’s older. You just had sex for the first time. He probably doesn’t want to think about that yet. “You know. He’s chill.”

“He’s chill.” Dean echoes.

“Mhm. Except for- The marriage thing.”

Dean hums. He’s relaxed again, dragging his palms in slow circles over your ass. His lips pull into that lazy, satisfied smirk. You flush just from the sight of it.

“What?”

“Nothin’.” He squeezes your waist. “Just tell him to give it a few months.”

“A- Give what-“

Dean raises his brows. Your mouth falls open.

“A few months-“

“I know what I want.” Dean shrugs. And you can see it. Him watching you so, so carefully.

And you smile.

Because you do to.

“Yeah?” You whisper, leaning down to hover your lips over his.

“Yeah.” He mutters. “That alright with you?”

You answer with a kiss, and Dean grunts, immediately rolling you over. And this sweet, slow moment feels like it’s going to last forever.

You hope—you pray—that it does.

✦End note: honestly this might be one of my favorite i hope you enjoyed it.✦

✦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3✦

✦Buy me a coffee!☕️ (and get early access!)✦

Tonight they were at some hunter reunion thing that Sam had instead they got to. He couldn’t really complain about going though, when you wore those jeans he likes and that top that shows off your tits.

But every guy in this place has their eyes all over you. He slid in close, fingers twisted in your belt loops, letting all these assholes know you're his girl.

Even if you didn’t know it yet.

“Sweetheart” Dean murmured low against your ear. “Wanna get outta here?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “De- don’t be rude. We gotta stay for a bit at least”

“Y’ look too damn good for this place, lemme take you to the fancy bar we passed earlier, hmm?” He didn’t care that he was begging. Maybe if the two of you spent some time outside of this life you’d give him a chance.

You stared at him for a long second. Searching his face for something. “You wanna show me off?”

He nodded quickly. Well he wants a lot more than that, but it’s a good start.

You turned towards him then, throwing your legs over his thigh. A hand pressed over his thundering heart. And then you leaned in close, breath dancing against his neck as you whispered, “Can do that here.”

You were wrapped around him the rest of the night. legs intertwined, fingers playing in his hair, with his shirt, with his jewelry.

He couldn’t fucking believe it. Sam couldn’t either by the way he kept looking at the two of you. It could almost be a dream.

Almost.

Except your lips never get closer than his cheek. Your fingers never dip lower than his chest. You never call him anything but his name.

He’s being greedy, he knows it. But he wants you to cross that line.

And maybe it’s just a little too public for you. You want the first time you finally kiss to be just the two of you. Which is perfectly fine, because Dean secretly wants that chick flick moment with you.

After a while Sam lets you two leave. Claiming he’s gonna play another round of pool. It’s bullshit but Dean is honestly grateful for the assist.

He throws his jacket over your shoulders as you stand to leave, another claiming now that you’re not intertwined in the booth. You give him a little giggle and drag him close by the belt loops, making his head go fuzzy.

His rose-colored bubble is shattered the second you’re in the Impala though.

You slip the jacket off you and give him a lopsided grin “So who were we trying to make jealous?”

He opens his mouth and closes it. Twice. Before his brain finally catches up to reality.

You were just putting on a show. For Dean’s sake. You didn’t mean any of it.

He names a hunter at random, someone they don’t talk to. “Did good sweetheart, y’ really looked like mine”

You didn’t see the hurt in his eyes though, you were busy fiddling with the music.

“So if it was real - what happens next?”

“Hmm?” He’s too stuck on ‘if it was real’ to hear the rest of your question.

“Cmon, don't be shy! What does a girls night include when she leaves with Cassanova Dean?”

“Lemme take y’ out and I’ll show ya”

You just hum a noncommittal response, once again distracted by the radio.

———

It’s another 2 weeks before Dean shoots his shot again.

Sam had opted out of the bar, giving Dean that look. The one that meant ‘don’t be an idiot’. As he claimed he was going to do research on the case.

And now Dean’s a few beers in, staring at you as you walk back to their table from the bathroom.

“So damn pretty sweetheart” he groans, as you take your seat. Callused hand coming up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You give him a little lopsided smile, “thanks De?”

He hates that it’s a question.

You let him draw your chair in closer as the night goes on. He continues to murmur praise at you. Praise turns to affection as he paws at you.

You don’t push away, but you don’t pull him close either. You don’t tease him, just quiet words of thanks and then continuing your conversation. Even as his hands work until the bottom of your shirt to rub circles on your soft skin.

When Dean can’t take it anymore, he pulls you into his lap. His need for you is made even more obvious by his hardness pushing into your lower back. His mouth finds the soft spot under your ear. Lavishing you with soft kisses.

“Please tell me y’ feel this too” he pleads softly

You definitely feel what he’s talking about. You chuckle softly and grind back against him. “I feel this De”

He groans softly into you. “Need you sweetheart”

“Okay” you murmur, throwing down cash for the bill. He follows you out, hand on your hip, hearts in his eyes.

—

You open the back door of the Impala for him and shove him inside.

Deans panting, green eyes wide and lust blown, as he watches you crawl in after him through his thick lashes.

“What…I uh” his head has fully gone fuzzy as his dreams are finally becoming reality.

You cupped his throbbing cock through his jeans, making his breath catch. “You said you needed my help with this”

A desperate whimper left his throat as he thrust up into your hand. His logical brain was arguing that wasn’t exactly what he meant, but then your nimble fingers found his zipper and he was lost in you touch.

You slowly worked his jeans and boxers down his legs. Taking the time to pull them all the way off.

He can’t do anything except watch you work, cock hard and dripping against his stomach.

When you finally come back up to him, Dean thinks your going to kiss him. He leans in, eyes closed. Pink full lips waiting for yours.

But you nip at his jaw instead. He’s not disappointed, not really. You’re touching him, loving him. He’s not going to be greedy and beg for a kiss.

You push him back, but Dean can’t even register the cold of the window once you start moving south. And when you push up his shirt to trail the line of hair down from his bellybutton with your tongue, a desperate moan leaves him.

“Fuck sweetheart. I- ” His words get caught in his throat when you suck the tip of him into your soft mouth.

You pull off with a pop, eyes wide looking up at him through your lashes. “Did you want me to stop?”

“Don’t stop. Please” Dean croaked out, voice tight with how much he needs this. Needs you.

You hum and continue your slow beautiful torture. His hands come up to feel you, twisting in your hair. Not to pull you closer, just to ground him. That you’re really here. Worshipping him in this soft beautiful way.

Your fingers stroke him slow and hard. Your tongue trails every inch, every vein. You swallow him back, til he’s buried in your throat. Bobbing slowly, purposely. Eyes occasionally flicking up to meet his lust blow eyes.

Dean can’t help the whimpers and groans that leave him. He tries to whisper soft praises, telling you how beautiful you are, how perfect you are. But his words get choked with his noises as you swallow him down.

He’s never been taken apart this way. This has to be what people mean by ‘making love’ he thinks. This feels like love. Devotion.

Then you hum around him, the vibration of your throat pulling him over the edge. He shudders and holds you close to him as you unravel him.

“Damn baby girl y’perfect” he groans once he’s caught his breath

—

Dean tries to pull you up into his arms but you haven’t released him yet. Continuing to leave little kisses and licks across his sensitive cock.

He can’t fully soften when you’re worshipping him like this. He’s half hard and panting, fingers gripping you tighter - unsure what he’s asking for.

When you drag your blunt nails against the inside of his thighs and push them wider, Dean can’t hold back the groan or the way his hips thrust up on their own.

You give his balls the same sweet attention you have been giving his cock. Kisses and licks and suckling them softly in your mouth. He rewards your affection with gasps and groans and his thick cock getting hard and ready for you again.

You hum happily around his balls at the sight, making him curse and twitch and leak precum.

You pull off with a pop, looking up at him though your lashes. “Wanna cum for me again?” You coo sweetly

“Wanna fuck you sweetheart” Dean pleads, voice low, wrecked

“Tsk tsk that’s not what I asked De” you chide with a playful smile

He gulps, eyes going even wider. “I…uh yeah. But dunno if I can sweetheart”

You ignore his hesitation and take him back into your soft mouth. Dean’s so sensitive after your early ministrations. So it’s not long before his balls tighten and he’s on the edge of coming for you again.

You must be able to tell, since your fingers leave his thighs and begin to fondle his balls.

Dean can’t help the way his hips jerk up, pushing him further down your throat. He’s opens his mouth to apologize but you tug on his balls just so, and press your thumb into that sensitive space right behind them. A broken half whine leaves his throat instead as he falls off that edge and cums down your throat.

He is an overstimulated ruined mess when you are finished drinking him down. Shaking, panting your name, a couple tears track down his cheek.

You take care of him like this too. You wrap him in your blanket off the floor. Wipe away the tears with your thumb and a soft kiss to his forehead. Having him drink water from one of the bottles you keep stashed in the car. And it’s all coated in a soft gossamer of your praise - “Did so good De, knew you could come again. “Careful now, small sips.” “I know it was a lot but you did so good” “The tears are expected don’t worry, happens when you get overstimulated.” “Breathe slow for me now” “You can sleep for a minute De, I’ll drive us back”

—

When Dean wakes up you're parked in front of the motel. Slowly working his jeans back on.

He isn’t sure what to say, brain still mush from the way you gently ruined him.

“Morning” you say with a smile, once you notice he’s awake.

“Fuck baby girl, I think you broke me” he croaks, voice raspy with sleep and sex

You laugh softly “Not broken, maybe just a little worn out”

He lifts his hips so you can slide his jeans back on. “Definitely” he agrees with a nod.

When you’ve got his shoes back on, and made him drink some more water, you open up the back door and crawl out to the Motel parking lot.

Dean follows you out on shaky legs. Which makes you smile.

“Can you make it back to your room or you want me to carry you?”

Dean’s surprised, of course. He isn’t going back to your room? He was already picturing you pressed against him all night. And waking you up tomorrow with his head between your thighs.

You don’t get it, of course, but you did catch his surprise. “What? You don’t think I can carry you?”

He doesn’t. But that’s besides the point.

“Stay with me tonight” he pleads, stepping closer to wrap his arms around your waist.

“Insatiable” you say with a smile

He shakes his head “Nah, just to sleep.”

Your head tilts as you look up at him, searching his face for the answer to an unasked question.

“Well I guess you can come sleep in my room if you want” you finally say

Dean’s heart hammers as he trails after you. Hearts in his eyes now that he is finally getting a night for just the two of you.

“what the fuck?” you whisper-yell and shove him back, conscious of the ungodly hour to be awake and your snoring roommate on the other side of the wall. “bucky — how did you get in?!”

bucky’s hand catches your wrist. he has a glazed look in his eyes, hazy and dark, like he’s neither here nor there.

“stole sam’s copy,” he rasps, flashing the key in his free hand before dropping it off the side of the bed. the clatter makes you wince. with a growl, you push on his chest to get him off the bed, but he’s as immovable as stone. bucky takes advantage of your closeness and kisses a line down your jaw, sending sparks up your body that your half-asleep mind struggles to keep up with. you tilt toward him instinctively before the previous week catches up to you.

“no,” you say, snapping to. “don’t, bucky. i told you, this is over.” you wrench yourself away from him, from the familiar heat radiating off his body.

the man has the audacity to pout.

“you didn’t mean it,” he mutters, tightening his grip on your wrist and slowly dragging you over to him. you plant your feet into the mattress, pulling at his hand to release you. it doesn’t work.

“yes, i did,” you seethe, your irritation growing the closer you get to him. “it was way out of line, even for you. you don’t get to call me a slut in front of everyone just for talking to another guy and expect me to let you fuck me after.”

he sighs, like he’s heard this a million times over and has now found it tedious. “come on, sweetheart, it wasn’t like that. it was just a bit of foreplay,” he hums, leaning in again. the anger comes in waves now, waking up your brain and adding to your strength, and you finally succeed in prying his fingers off.

only for him to snatch up your other wrist, quick as a flash. his reflexes take you by surprise, a squeak leaving your mouth, and bucky makes his move, one knee on the bed before his body’s hovering over yours, eliminating all opportunities to escape. your head meets the wall as you move with him, a dull thunk that you pray didn’t wake your roommate.

“fuck you,” you snap, scrambling to recover. “you took it too far, now get off me before i scream.”

bucky raises your wrist to his lips, kissing the fragile skin softly. your heartbeat quickens under his mouth when that strange look in his eyes grows darker.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs, “i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

the apology hits you like a truck, you can only stare at him.

“i’ve missed you,” he hums, nose nudging against your wrist. “missed this.”

your mouth hangs open. “that’s not — you can’t — i don’t care,” you sputter out.

“you’re mad at me,” he says. it isn’t a question.

“extremely,” you say, but your voice has lost most of its defiance already.

“more than usual.”

you huff. “yes. it was mean, bucky.”

“thought you liked me mean.” his lips work their way up your arm, toward the thin strap of your sleep tank, leaving a trail of fire after them. you fight against his grip, but it’s weak, half-assed.

“not like that,” you mumble, cheeks flushed. bucky kisses across your chest, hips settling between your legs, other hand spanning your waist. the voice of rationality inside your head is screaming at you to put an end to this, to kick him out and tell him to never come back. you make one last effort to get him off of you, hips bucking, but all it does is grind your center directly on his, creating friction where heat is beginning to build and earning you a low groan.

he draws back, but leaves his hips pressed to yours. “i can be nice, too.”

your breath hitches, your brow furrows. “what do you…” you shake your head quickly, pushing on his shoulders. “no. i’m not in the mood — on account of how pissed i am at you.”

bucky stares down at you for a moment before his arms lock around you. your world flips upside down as he switches your positions suddenly, holding you steady on top of his growing bulge while he rests his back against the wall.

“take it out on me,” bucky says.

you blink at him. “i — huh?“

“use me. don’t hold back.”

his hands drag your hips across his. heat pools in your core as the zipper of his jeans catches your clit through your underwear. you let out a soft whimper, caught off guard yet again by this foreign version of him.

“bucky,” you start.

“be mean to me, like i was mean to you,” he breathes, kissing down your neck. “unless you actually liked being called a slut…” you can feel him smile into your throat when you make an indignant noise. you give everything you’ve got not to rise to his bait, but you can feel your temper sparking and spitting beneath the surface.

bucky pulls away, wearing a crooked grin and soft eyes, holding you with an even softer touch, and it’s absolutely unnerving, this side of him. you’re convinced he has to be either drunk or high or something—

his fingers glide over the skin of your leg and press on your bundle of nerves through your panties. your back arches, your thighs clench around his waist; he looks smug. it snaps something within you.

your hand comes down on his chest with a smack, right under his throat. your fingers hook around the neckline of his shirt while your other hand goes for his belt. bucky’s grin turns into a giddy smile. he helps you undo his pants, pushing them down with his briefs until his cock springs out, long and thick and leaking with anticipation. your body hums just from the sight of his length, like it’s been programmed to come alive when it’s near. he bites his lip, waiting.

you meet his eyes then, as the slick builds in your panties from his thumb swiping lazily up and down your folds. “never call me a slut in front of our friends again.”

there’s a pause as you size each other up. you’re a hot leaking mess and his dick twitches twice, but neither of you move yet. bucky’s gaze grows impossibly softer the longer the silence stretches on.

finally, he nods.

a small part of you preens at his obedience, however reluctant it was, but you tuck that feeling away to examine later. your body relaxes with a sigh of poorly concealed relief as you start wriggling out of your underwear, eager to feel him; bucky must feel the same because his hands come up to rip the fabric in two before it even reaches your knees. you gasp, but he’s already dragging you toward him, lining up his cock with your dripping pussy.

not wanting to relinquish your upper hand, you scratch at his skin with the hand at his neck, stopping him from pulling you down. he hisses but says nothing, fingers tightening on your hips as you slowly lower yourself onto his cock.

both of you exhale heavily when he slides in all the way, the tip of him reaching that tight notch inside of you on the first try. you moan, head thrown back, and bucky carves a sloppy path of kisses across your collarbone. you let yourself adjust as he continues to attack your skin, pulling at your top to expose a breast and immediately sucking the nipple into his mouth.

the heat spreads through you, hottest where your bodies meet. slowly, when the burning stretch of him has faded, you begin to rock your hips. bucky grips you tighter, hands following instead of guiding, letting you set the pace for once. the realization is like fire in your veins, adding to your desire but also fueling your need for control. fisting his shirt, you move faster on top of him, grinding deep before lifting up until just the head of his cock is tucked into your pussy; you come back down with a quick snap, hard and greedy and intentional in its violence, and bucky lets out a deep groan. you repeat the motions, basking in his unchecked noises, the sweet drag of him against your walls feeling like a victory.

your legs burn from the pace you’ve set, but the way he splits you in two is too addicting to give up on. short puffs of air escape his mouth each time your pussy swallows his cock, like he’s at the complete mercy of your will and has no other choice but to take it. his head falls back against the headboard, expression slack.

“you are a slut,” he breathes, fingers digging into your ass, eyes focused on your face, “but you’re my slut, aren’t you?”

your lips part—

bucky thrusts up into you suddenly, bringing your rhythm to a stop as you gasp at the feeling of his cock kissing your cervix. you see stars the same time you see red, but the aftertaste of his words is traitorously delicious. arousal spills from your pussy, soaking his cock and the coarse hairs at the base.

bucky chuckles softly, continuing to rock his hips up into you, his thumb coming back around to tease your clit. you cry out at the surge of pleasure wracking your body. you’re slowly losing your control.

“what?” he says when your tear-filled eyes narrow down at him. “you never said i couldn’t call you a slut when it’s just us.”

your nails scrape at his skin again, but bucky responds with a sharp smack to your ass. you yelp, arching into him, and bucky strips you of your shirt before you can make another sound; he licks and bites at the skin of your breasts, undoubtedly leaving marks that he’s not supposed to make, but that’s when he gives you another hard thrust, removing all protests from your head as he fucks you closer to your orgasm.

but you’re determined to win this war. you grab his hair and pull his face up, pressing a bruising kiss to his lips. he makes a small noise in the back of his throat, thrusts becoming uneven enough for you to press down into him, restarting your original pace, making him take it.

“i’m not your slut, bucky,” you whisper against his mouth, pulling at his hair so he looks at you. “you’re mine.”

bucky’s eyes widen; he opens his mouth to respond, but you nip at his lower lip, tugging on it until he hisses.

“fuck,” he cries out when you release him. his hands press into your skin, frustration evident in his hold, but you pick up speed, fucking him faster, harder, deeper, until his bruising grip is from him having to hang on to you. bucky begins to unravel before your eyes, sweat beading at his temples, jaw unhinged, chest heaving. the sight of him coming undone underneath you fills you with lustful pride, giving you a new sense of confidence. you want to push him further, the way he pushes you.

“only a slut sneaks into an apartment at two in the morning because they’re so desperate for someone,” you murmur in his ear.

bucky’s legs tense up beneath you, the telltale sign that he’s close. you smile.

“you couldn’t even go a week without being inside of me, barnes. i’d call that desperate.”

his hips follow yours, not to take over, but to get closer to his release.

“any chance you get, you’re pulling me into bed with you. it’s so painfully obvious, it’s pathetic.”

bucky actually whimpers, his lips brushing your neck. you lean back, holding his shirt like you’d hold a horse’s reins, and you hope the imagery isn’t missed by him, the degradation of it, as you continue to ride him at a brutal pace.

“i think you called me a slut because you can’t stand the fact that you’re the biggest slut for me,” you breathe, dropping your hand from his hair to caress his cheek. bucky’s head leans into your palm, spit pooling at the corner of his lips. there’s no blue left in his eyes, only dilated pupils, as he watches you fuck him.

“well guess what?” you say, smirking. “everyone could tell you only said it because you were jealous. everyone. and now they know what you really are. my slut.”

it’s the final nail in the coffin. bucky’s jaw drops, a long, low moan leaving him as his hips rock up into yours for a final time. you can feel him spill inside of you, warmth flooding your core. he’s so fucking pretty when he comes that for a moment, you forget why you’re angry with him in the first place, watching as his whole body shudders beneath you.

he somehow manages to keep his half-lidded eyes locked with yours while he rides out his orgasm, soft grunts escaping his mouth with every wave that crashes through him. the intensity of his stare is spine-tinglingly intimate and loaded with unsaid words.

it makes you rock into him quicker, your walls squeezing his twitching, still hard cock until it hits on a specific spot within you that you eagerly press down on. you come with a soft cry, limbs trembling and spine stretching as you reach your peak. for a moment, while the pleasure courses white-hot through your body, the only things tethering you to this earth are his fingers leaving indents in your ass.

the silence in the room during your comedowns is deafening. when your vision returns, you find bucky staring up at you, face impassive, eyes no longer soft.

“i wasn’t jealous.”

the corner of your lip twitches up. “sure.”

with a huff, bucky lifts you off of him, setting you aside unceremoniously so that he can stand. you can feel your combined releases dripping out of you onto your freshly-washed sheets, and something about that and the way he keeps his back to you as he tucks himself into his pants fills you with sudden and burning rage.

“seriously?” you snap. “you come over here and sweet talk me into letting you back into my bed and then end it like this? what, all because your pride’s a little hurt? because i called you out?”

“that’s what this is, right?” he mutters, broad back tense as he buckles his belt. “we use each other to get what we want. i got off, and you got your little power trip.”

you gape at him when he turns around, face set in stone.

“nothing’s changed. you made sure of that when you fucked me into the bed after telling me this is over,” he says, emotionless. “a little slutty, if you ask me.”

your mind whirls to keep up with his words, and you’re fighting a losing battle against the tears springing to your eyes. you look away from him quickly.

“get out,” you whisper. bucky stands like a statue next to your bed.

“are you…crying?”

“get out, barnes, i swear to god,” you hiss. he’s silent as he watches you for a moment longer, then bends over to pick up the keys discarded on the floor. “leave them,” you spit.

bucky steps back, hands up like he’s facing off against a wild animal. you’re sure you look like one, naked and crying and tangled in the sheets. after another beat, he’s at your door, casting one last look at you before saying, “house is empty tomorrow night…if you’re still mad.”

then he’s gone.

you collapse onto your bed, sobbing, pulling your sheets over your head and hiding yourself from the rest of the world. you feel like you’re drowning in a whirlpool of shame and hurt and anger. only this time, the anger is mostly directed at yourself. how did you let this get so twisted? how did he get so under your skin that his usual remarks started to cut deeper, leaving scars instead of brushing past you?

because bucky has always treated you like you’re nothing more than a dumping ground for his load. he holds you down a little too hard for a little too long and doesn’t care if it hurts. he doesn’t wait for you to come first, and he’s never heard of aftercare. and for reasons unknown, when this first started, that’s what you wanted. he is unapologetically a dick, and that’s who you willingly accepted into this dark, secret corner of your life.

and now it’s come back to bite you.

All he’s ever wanted was a family. People to love and that love him back.

He’ll take care of you. Be damn perfect for you. Cause he sure as shit ain’t letting you go.

Only then did it hit him as how far out of his depths his is. Hes never lived with a girlfriend for more than a weekend and he’s never dated a hunter, well for more than a night. And now he’s doing both. He hated seeing you get hurt on hunts before, but now? He’d burn the world down for you. Maybe they should quit. Would you like that? He can’t exactly buy a place in the suburbs, but there’s plenty of old hunter cabins. He could fix one up for you?

Before he could dive deeper into his self doubt, you whined in your sleep. His breath caught, are you in pain again? But then you mumbled “mine” again and your soft hands tried to pull at him.

He chuckled low, barely a breath, as he pulled you closer. He liked you needy. He knows exactly how to help you then.

Once you’ve settled back into deep sleep on his chest, he pulls out his phone determined to know everything about periods. And how to help you with yours.

And what he finds is very interesting.

There’s the stuff he expected: heat for the cramps, lots of hydrating, lots of rest.

There’s the stuff he didn’t really get: no caffeine but also that caffeine helps, no cheese or chocolate but also that’s all you’ll want, exercise helps a lot but he’s pretty sure you would shoot him if he told you to go work out.

But the best thing he found? That orgasms help, a lot. Especially with bad periods. Especially with painful cramps.

He ended up on some Reddit forum where people talked about how they help their girls with their periods. And damn if they don’t go into some explicit detail.

Dean’s cock is rock hard, squished in his jeans. But he doesn’t dare try and relieve the tension, not with the way you're pressed into his chest.

Eventually, he falls asleep around you. The lights are still mostly on. He’s still fully dressed. He’s still rock hard. Dreaming about making you feel better with his cock.

———

You jolt awake with a gasp, and are surprised to find Dean still leaning up against the headboard.

His eyes pop open a second after yours and those mesmerizing green eyes are warm with affection as they stare down at you.

“Mornin honey” he rasped, voice low and heavy with sleep. And it rumbles down your spine and low into your belly, heating you from the inside out.

“Hi” you whisper out, suddenly shy. You basically claimed each other last night, does that mean you’re like together now? You really fucking hope so, cause you’re pretty sure you can’t deny your feeling for him any longer.

His sinful full lips curl into a lazy smile as he leans down to press a kiss on your forehead. A soft sigh escapes you at his gentle touch and your fingers tighten in his flannel.

“How d’ ya feel?”

Right…he’s cuddling you because of your period. Because of your many freak outs. Maybe what he said last night was just to calm you down.

You puff out a frustrated sigh and flop to your back, turning out of his arms.

Dean shifts with you though, turning to lean over you. You’re practically nose to nose. You could lean up to kiss him with barely a stretch of your neck. But what if he rejects you? Cause you’re pretty sure that would actually kill you.

“You’re my girl now honey, don’t hide from me”

“Yeah?” It comes out as a whisper. A breath against his lips, and you can’t help but look at his. So close to yours.

“Yeah” he rasps back “ y’ called me yours yesterday. Can’t get rid of me now”

You close the distance with a kiss before you even think about it. Just a feather light dusting of your lips against his.

Dean groans against you. His hand finds your jaw and he just holds you still. Covering you in a blanket of gentle kisses.

He pulls back a second later and you can’t help the little whine that leaves your throat.

He chuckles, low and dark, and it rumbles down your spine, curling your toes. “ y’ can have s’more when you answer my question honey”

“What question?”

His lips twitch with a hint of a smile. “I was askin how you feel”

Oh. Duh. Shame and embarrassment swirls in you crowding out the lust that was burning low in your core. You wish you could curl under the blankets and hide but he’s got that massive hand curled around your jaw, holding you close.

“I dunno. I can’t really tell til I get up.”

“I read the second day is worse, is yours like that?” His voice is low, sweet like you’ve never heard before. The backs of your eyes are burning with unshed tears.

Fucking hormones.

You manage a weak nod, but when sadness fills Dean’s gaze you’re quick to add “but I’m really fine. You don’t have to stay here and baby me. There’s a case. Wait, where’s Sam?”

But then he brushes his thumb against your jaw like he did yesterday and your brain just melts to goo.

You blink up at him dumbly, watching this sexy man who is calling you his. Completely putty in his hands, you’re not even aware that he shut you up and quieted your panic with a brush of his thumb.

After a moment, Dean’s callused grasp slips lower to the hollow of your throat. Like his hand is your own personal necklace

“Shh sweetheart. ‘m gonna take care of you and you’re gonna let me. Sammy’s got the case. And he’ll sleep in Baby til another room opens up. Okay?”

Hot tears spill down your cheeks immediately. Dean fucking Winchester gave up a case for you. Gave up his beloved car (for a day at least) for you. He really does like you. God this just makes you like him even more. He’s so damn good.

“Shh pretty… save ya tears hmm? You can cry on my cock later if you’re good” His hand leaves your throat to brush away the tears. Gentle fingers hardly matching his dirty words

Your breath catches on a gasp. Tears immediately forgotten. “If I’m good?”

He chuckles low, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Wanna be good f’me?”

Fuck. Yes. You’d be so good for him. A desperate little whine left your throat. Before you remembered you can’t even play right now. God dammit fucking period. “Can’t. ‘M still bleeding”

“Ya know I was researchin periods and stuff and orgasms are supposed to help lots with your pain.”

Adoration courses through your body. A different softer deeper kind of warmth, from Dean doing research for you. He’s just so fucking good to you. And you’ve been kinda together for only like 8 hours, and you’ve been passed out for most of them.

But then his words click in. Dean doesn’t care that you’re bleeding. He wants you anyways. He wants to make you cum to help with the bleeding.

You don’t know whether to cry from how sweet he’s being or mount him. You swallow back your storm of emotions.

“Is that so? Seems like a scholarly article you found”

He snorts out a huff of a laugh, “was educational”

“And you’re volunteering to help me? Such a gentleman”

Dean lets outs a grumbling sort of sound. One that’s not quite a disagreement but not exactly a sound of assent. “ ’m gonna take care of ya, remember?” He says with a smirk, before it softens into a gentle smile. “ ’ve waited a damn long time for y’ sweetheart, and y’re finally mine. Can’t blame a guy for hopin he can cure ya with orgasms”

Your head and heart and pussy flutter with his confession. His possession. His gentle affection he must have been saving for you.

“Oh” it’s comes out breathy, even to your ears “okay then”

“Mhmm. But now we’re gonna get up and you’re gonna eat something. And you’re gonna tell me how you’re feeling”

His sweet control makes everything you’re feeling even more intense. You desperately want to be good for him.

You slowly rolled away from him and climbed out of bed. Pain cinched low in your stomach the second you were sitting up, making your breath puff out in a harsh exhale.

Dean was pressed against your back a second later. Warm calloused hands ghosted over your waist, knees bracketing your hips. “Cramps?”

“Just a little twinge from sittin up” you murmured, leaning back to him. Words contradicting your action.

You were tempted to tuck back into his chest and lay back down, where the throbbing pain had finally eased. But you were determined to follow his command.

You gently pushed up to standing, his palms gliding across you as you broke contact. You held your breath with the first step, expecting the worst, but other than a general whole body achiness you felt okay.

You snatched your bag and went to the bathroom, only once you were washing your hands the cramps returned with force. Definitely stronger than yesterday.

You gasped and leaned forward, bracing on the sink. Unaware of the water still running, or of Dean opening the bathroom door behind you.

——

Dean coddled you the rest of the morning, and surprisingly you didn’t hate it. For anyone else you would have argued, fought back, clung to your independence. But Dean wasn’t treating you like you were incapable of taking care of yourself. He acted like he needed to help you.

And if you were being honest, you needed the help.

He helped you dress, when you couldn’t bend over without groaning in pain.

He even helped you put on your shoes before you could try to do it yourself.

He offered about a dozen times to go grab food and bring it back for you, but you were insistent that a walk would be good for you. And he walked slowly at your side, letting you clutch at his hand when a painful cramp hit. And then holding it gently in his, the whole rest of the way.

———

Dean didn’t realize how much everything would change now that you were his.

He wanted to carry you to the diner in his arms, sit you on his lap and hand feed you each bite.

He contained his urges, barely. But he couldn’t stop touching you.

He held your hand the whole way to the diner. He sat on the same side of the booth as you. Something he would have rolled his eyes at another couple for, but now he gets it. He needs to be pressed up against you.

And you don’t complain. No, you lean into him.

But each wince and gasp of pain is killing him. He needs to get you back in bed. Even if it’s just for a nap with a heating pad. He needs to do something to actually help.

Dean places an obscenely large to-go order when you two are almost finished, cause no way is he dragging you down the street again. And when it’s finally time to go, he lets you walk on your own until that first wince of pain.

He scoops you up in his arms, pressed chest to chest as your legs wrap around him on instinct. And when you let out a happy sigh of relief, he can finally take a deep breath again.

He carries you all the way back to bed, door kicked shut behind him. Food dropped unceremoniously on the table still covered in all the things he brought you yesterday.

He presses down into the mattress above you. Lips meeting in a gentle kiss, letting you decide what you want.

But when your lips part and your little pink tongue sneaks out to brush against his lips, his control starts to fray. He groans at your taste, maple syrup and salt and you.

Kisses turn desperate, tongues battle, teeth clash, bodies pressed against each other.

Dean’s cock throbs in his jeans, precum already seeping out, but he’s careful not to push you for more. Not when he’s waited so long for you. Not when you’re aching and in pain. But then you press your hips up against his and let out a desperate little whine, he can’t help but groan and grind down into you.

When you break apart to breathe, he licks and kisses across your jaw. Your neck. Your ear. Murmuring praises in between each one.

“so damn pretty sweetheart”

“ ’ve dreamed about this for years, ya know? Ever since I first met ya on that vamp hunt”

“ y’are even more perfect than I dreamed honey”

“Never fucking lettin ya go now”

“Mine”

Each praise, each kiss, and each lick makes your writhe and whine for him. And he can’t believe you're real.

“I wanna try” you breathe out when Dean licks across your collarbone. He stills, eyes darting up to yours, making sure you mean it.

Your cheeks flare a pretty pink under his gaze, and he can’t help but push you a little. “What’d ya wanna try honey?”

The pink deepens and you squirm just a little under him, but you answer anyways. A little whimper of “playing. to…to help with the pain” is all you can manage. And he knows he was right all along. You’re a little submissive, a little soft n sweet, and a little whiny desperate thing. God damn yall are gonna have some fun together.

He groans and kisses you. “I’ll be gentle with ya sweetheart. You just gotta let me love on ya and tell me if anything hurts.” Lips lock back on yours again, somewhere between a vow and a plea.

You pull back with a shy look, cheeks still pink. “You… you don’t think it’s gonna be gross? Or… too messy?”

He doesn’t give a damn about a mess. He almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it, but your shy little look stops him.

He sits back slightly, letting you see how serious he is. Eyes never leaving yours, even as he hooks his fingers in your waistband and pulls your soft sweats down. “Wouldn’t suggest this if I did. ‘Sides I’ve been covered head to toe in blood and guts from every piece of shit monster out there. No way is a little of my girl’s blood stopping me”

“Oh” you squeak out, eyes wide. Swallowing hard.

Dean gives you a lazy smirk and finally lets his eyes leave yours.

“Fuckin hell sweetheart” he chokes, voice heavy with lust. “You wearin my boxers?” His fingers trail along the black boxer briefs you stole from his bag

You nodded slow “I… I’m sorry my panties weren’t comfy and -“

Dean presses a big calloused palm over your mouth. “Hush, it’s hot.” He grinds his cock down over your pussy to emphasize his point.

——

Dean surrounds you. Overwhelms you in the best way. You can’t even keep your eyes open at the onslaught of sensation. Stubbled skin scrapes against your jaw. Delicious wet kisses across your throat. Massive callused hands pushed your shirt up, trailing across your skin. Your curves.

Gentle yet urgent.

You can’t help but whine under touch.

He chuckles low, rumbling against your chest. And you eyes flutter open to find him sprawled between your legs. Trailing kisses between your breasts. Green eyes dark with lust, looking up at you though full lashes. Those already full lips, even more sinful kiss bitten.

“Needy little thing hmm? ’ve barely gotten started”

His fingers drag up, each hand cupping your swollen aching breasts. And you moan into his touch. Its a heady combo of relief and pleasure.

Thumbs drag across your painfully hard nipples. Pushing your piercings through. Lightning shoots through your spine at the touch, curling your toes, and making your pussy gush. and for the first time in days the only thing you can focus on is Dean and the delicious pressure coiling low in your core.

“Deeee-“ you whimper out. Back arching to push your tits further into his hold.

He wraps his lips around a sensitive bud. Tongue playing with your piercing, moaning into your skin. Your fingers rake through his hair. Digging into his scalp, to keep him close.

He winds you up, switches breasts. Switches back. Til you’re a whiny whimpering mess under him. And you’re not even fully undressed yet.

“Deann” you beg “Dean, baby, baby pleaseee”

He barely unlatches from you to answer. “Hmm… what do ya need honey”

“To cummm” you whine. Pathetic and desperate.

He just chuckles low and licks at you some more. “Y’ not being very good f’me. I told you to let me love on ya. Lemme take my time hmm? Or y’ gonn make me punish y’ ?”

A pathetic keening sort of noise leaves you as you arch up into him. Because fuck that is so hot. You don’t know if you want to be good or want him to punish you. But you’re so sensitive and overstimulated you can’t do anything but take his slow worship.

Dean had you so worked up you forgot to be self conscious when he dragged his boxers off you and saw your blood stained thighs. And when he dragged out your tampon, you couldn’t help but buck your hips up into him.

“Awesome” he muttered, staring at your puffy aching bleeding cunt.

Stupid man. You rolled your eyes at him.

He used your moment of distraction to shove two thick fingers deep inside you. Making you arch and scream his name.

“Shhh…you’re being such a brat. When I’m just trying to take care of my girl.” Dean coos

Fuck you don’t know if you like him calling you a brat or his girl better. You gushed and clenched around those thick digits of his but he didn’t move them. Just stared at you with that teasing smirk.

“I’ll be good baby. So good for you De please” you babbled. Desperate for him.

“Yeah? Y’ mine. And I’m just trying to take my time making my girl feel good. Y’ gonna let me do that sweetheart?”

You nodded frantically, “yes yes yes!”

He twisted his fingers slightly, making you groan as they slowly dragged against your hypersensitive walls.

You orgasm was so fucking close. If he would do that again you’d probably shatter.

But it’s like he can read your mind, because he stilled his fingers and smirked down at you.

“Ya gonna roll your eyes at me again?”

“No no I’ll be good!” You gasped, pussy clenching around him. Hands coming up to dig into his shoulders.

It felt like hours that he loomed over you, watching you flutter around his fingers (It was probably a single minute) as you babbled about how you’d be good for him and begged him for more, desperately clutching at him.

He finally relented, with a curve of his fingers. Finding your G-spot immediately.

You moaned, thighs shaking, but he didn’t fuck you with his fingers.

No he leaves them pressed into the sensitive nerves, as your body goes haywire. Eyes closed, back arched, chest heaving, legs shaking. Teetering on the edge of your climax.

Dean leans over you, warm breath ghosting against your neck. Making your breath catch.

“Cum f’me honey” he purrs into your ear, as he pushes harder into that sensitive spongey spot.

Your mouth opens on a silent scream as you fall over the edge, your body shakes almost violently through the most powerful orgasm you've ever had.

He finally moved his fingers, gently fucking you through the aftershocks. Prolonging your pleasure as you soak his hand and drip a mess all over the bed.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous” he murmurs kissing your neck gently, as you try and catch your breath. Wiggling your hips in an attempt to get away because he is still thrusting those fingers into you.

“Nuhuh, y’ mine” he groans, sliding to lay next to you freeing up his other hand to hold your hips down.

He doesn’t move faster yet, but harder. His fingers slam inside you, grinding his hand over your clit. Each thrust making those rough fingers drag over your sensitive walls before pushing into your g-spot.

“Deaan” you moan breathing hard, hands coming to clutch at his arms. Nails digging in.

He doesn’t relent. Keeping a slow punishing pace.

The moan of his name turns into a chant. A prayer. As he slowly, methodically, builds you right back up to the edge.

When he licks up the shell of your ear, your orgasm surprises the both of you. You’re fluttering around his fingers, moaning his name, whole body arched up and tight.

Dean chuckles softly against your ear, “Damn honey y’ so sensitive. This just y’ period?”

“No” you gasp once you finally catch your breath, despite the thick fingers still inside you “You… you do this to me”

He groans and captures your lips with his. You are so overwhelmed by everything Dean, you can barely kiss him back.

He trails his lips down your throat, leaving his mark all over you. Making you whimper and twitch and bear down on his thick digits.

He pushes a third finger into you, stretching you out, and starting to slowly thrust his fingers in you again.

“Baby…baby please. Please. Please fuck me” you babble incoherently

“Give me another. Need my pretty girl to cum f’me again first”

It’s no time at all before he has you teetering on the edge. Dean plays your body like he’s done this a million times before. Your heart aches for a single second as you think about all the experience he has.

Then nips at your pulse point and murmurs “I can’t believe you’re finally mine”

And your body melts for him, turning into a whiney babbling shaking mess.

He presses the heel of his hand against your clit and you shatter violently. Squirting a mess all over the two of you.

“Oh there ya’ go” he coos softly “thats my good girl”

You whimper at the praise, “De- pleasee” to overstimulated to get out anything else

“I know honey, I know” he murmurs softly as he finishes undressing you like you are precious.

——

When he finally thrusts into you, he doesn’t ease his way in. He bottoms out in one thrust with a groan of your name. You shatter instantly at the sheer intensity of it all, biting his big muscled bicep as your sensitive pussy tries to milk him dry.

“Fuckkk honey” he grits out between his teeth “Y’ keep squeezin me like this n’ I’m gonna cum”

You can’t stop clenching and fluttering and whining into his thick arm. You're too drunk on Dean and his fat cock splitting you open.

He growls grinding his hips into you making you gasp and release his arm

He sits back on his heels, pulling you up by your hips leaving just your shoulders pressed into the mattress as he bullies your cervix. Each thrust slow. Hard. Claiming

Tears track down your cheeks. Back arching. Body clenched and shaking. You can’t speak. Moaning and gasping and whining at the onslaught of sensations.

He stares down at you with hearts in his eyes, mouth hanging open. Grunting and groaning. Fingers digging into the meat of your hips. Choking out praises as your pussy clutches around him.

Your orgasm is building powerfully with each slow thrust and sweet word.

Suddenly he yanks you up, continuing to thrust into you. One hand against your back, pressing you into him. The other tangles in your hair, pulling your head back just enough for Dean to kiss and nip at your jaw.

He licks up the shell of your ear, groaning. He growls low “mine”

The damn breaks. A scream trapped in your throat. Vision darkening. Body quivering as you pulse around him. Your cunt trying to milk his thick cock into coming with you.

Dean groans, thrusts becoming frantic as his own orgasm nears.

He pulls out just in time, shoving his fat cock between your bodies, as he shutters and coats you both in his warm sticky cum.

———

You’re not quite sure how he got you in the shower, your brain is still sufficiently fried.

You don’t need your brain, you decide, since Dean is wrapped around you under the warm water. He’s holding you up against him with an arm around your middle as he cleans you gently.

“Damn you’re perfect” he murmurs low into your hair. More a thought that slipped out that praise for you, but it melts you all the same.

You whine just a little, and he chuckles. “Y’ comin back t’ me, honey? Almost done. Will get back ‘n bed ‘n a sec, m’kay?”

———

“C’mon pretty girl. Y’ gotta drink a little for me” Dean mumbles into your shoulder between soft kisses.

You’re wrapped up in the clean bed with him now, wearing his shirt. And boxers. And he even helped you with a fresh tampon. Completely unfazed.

You follow his instructions as he coos at you. Until you can lay back down and nuzzle into his bare chest.

You place lazy kisses there. Fingers playing in his chest hair. “Thank you De” you whisper into him

“Y’ my girl sweetheart. ‘M gonna treat ya right. Don’t have t’ thank me” Deans voice is a quiet rumble in his chest. His fingers drawing circles on your back. Coaxing you to sleep

Your eyelids are heavy, quickly finding sleep under his spell. You’re awake just long enough to murmur lazily “Wanna thank you… so good to me…my good boy…Mine”

Dean places a soft kiss in your hair. “Yah’ honey. ‘M yours”

Cool leather sticks to your bare legs as you shift and turn and try and find anyway to get comfortable.

The backseat of the impala is usually your favorite place to nap, but you’ve been on the road for 7 hours. And there’s probably another 2 or 3 left until you get to the next hunt.

Worse, your period started last night. And this month is fucking brutal. You had your own motel room last night, so the boys didn’t know you spent the night on the nasty bathroom floor - alternating between purging your stomach and crying.

Fucking pitiful, but in the privacy of your own space you allowed yourself to be as sad and whiny as you wanted.

Now, you’ll suck it up.

Slow sips of Gatorade and bites of crackers are all you’ve had today. Dean would fucking kill you if you got sick all over his baby.

You so desperately, pathetically, wanted Dean to like you. So you’ll pretend to be fine. And you won't get sick back here.

The impala lurches over a patch of uneven asphalt and your breath catches in your throat as pain throbs with every bump. Your head, your back, your boobs, your uterus, hell even your knees hurt.

“You alright back there sweetheart?” Dean calls low, his voice rumbling right alongside his precious car.

“Fine” you call, a little breathier than intended. Waving a hand in the air at him to try and prove your weak statement

Dean hums at your response, so it seems he’s buying your lies for now.

It’ll be harder to get away with this out of the car. When they watch how little you can eat without getting sick, how stiff you’re sitting, how you can barely breathe without wincing. If you engage in conversation you might yell at them. Or cry.

You puff out a quiet breath and stare at the roof above you covered in that tan vinyl stuff that’s on the doors. Every inch is already ingrained in your brain but you stare anyway.

This car is more of a home than anywhere else has been in the last 10 years. And you’ve only been on the road with the Winchester’s for the last few months.

The thought slams into you unexpectedly and fat heavy tears roll down your cheeks before you can even process that you’re sad. And homesick. And lonely. And you wish you had a space of your own. A person of your own.

Fuck.

Swallowing back the tears you turn into the seat and wipe the evidence of your fragile state from your cheeks. Hiding from people closest to you.

But you can’t possibly have a heart to heart about the sacrifices of a hunter right now.

So, you listen to the two of them bicker over music and cases and worst motels they’ve stayed in. And eventually you drift back into a restless sleep.

—

Eyes are heavy and stuck together when you wake. Probably from crying in your sleep, again.

Dean’s baby is cool and quiet around you. His low rumbling hum of “Enter Sandman” is muffled and it takes a slow minute for your brain to catch up to reality as you flip to your back.

Dean’s outside, pumping gas and continuing to hum Metallica. Sam is nowhere to be found.

The drivers door opens and Dean leans over the bench seat to look down at you. Piercing green eyes meet your as he asks, “Sweetheart…what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong…?” You question back, not understanding what he wants from you. Is he like testing you on the case?

He just stares for a second as your thoughts continue to spiral.

“With you” He finally clarifies.

“What’s wrong with me?” You push back, the sharpness in your tone betraying the hurt in your chest. But you don’t give him a second to answer before you snap back “Maybe it’s waking up to rude fucking questions, Asshole!”

Dean stares at you for a long second before he pushes up off the seat and gets out of the car.

The door shutting sounds like a gunshot in the silence and you let out a shaky sigh. You didn’t mean to snap at him when he was just checking in. Just being a decent human and you had to yell at him.

Fucking hormones.

The door at your feet opened and Dean crawled in before you could object. Pulling your feet to sit on his lap. You just stared at the man trying to figure out what the fuck in going on.

Dean and you were hunter friends, sure. But it’s not like you were that close. Not emotional breakdown in the back seat together, close. No, your relationship revolved around hunts, and dive bars, and small talk about nothing. He barked orders and you rolled your eyes but followed them anyway.

But you couldn’t help but feeling more. Dean and Sam have been the only consistent people in you life in a very very long time. Sam felt like a brother you never had or a best friend from a life forgotten. Dean, well Dean you adored. You needed him to like you. To be proud of you. And fuck if you didn’t want to get on you knees and promise to be good if he’ll let you make him cum.

But you didn’t let your daddy issues affect reality. Even if the way he touched your ankles and looked at you like that makes you want to cry and crawl in his lap.

“Do you want to keep yelling at me? Or do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You sighed loud and long, staring at the roof “Sorry. Hormones are making me a little crazy”

His whole body tensed up under your feet. “Uhh.. what does…are you…pregnant or something?”

You pulled yourself up, leaning against the door opposite him and snapped “Jesus! No! I’m on my period idiot”

“Oh…Oh! Shark Week. Yeah. Okay” Dean blinked at you

You just rolled your eyes at him. Men are stupid.

“You’ve been on the road with us for months and I haven’t seen you like…this… before”

“Yeah well… I ran out of birth control a week ago. So”

He swallowed, hard. “I think you’re gonna have to walk me through it a little more sweetheart. I haven’t exactly lived with a woman before.”

“You’ve dated.”

Dean scoffs and rubs at the back of his neck. “Not really the same thing”

Obviously. You get the protective asshole. They get off the clock Dean in their bed. You couldnt help but chuckle at him despite the twinge in your heart “didn’t pay attention to anything other than you didn’t need to use condoms?”

“I always use condoms sweetheart”

“Okay okay” you wave your hands in between y’all “I don’t actually need to know” mostly because if he keeps talking about his sex life you might actually throw up back here.

“So…” Dean prods “Now that you’re out of birth control you what? get periods and yell at me and sigh and groan in the car?”

“Yup”

“And…?”

God what does he want from you?!

“And I’m sorry I yelled at you? But maybe don’t ask people what’s wrong with them. It's rude.”

———————

Dean’s lip twitched with a hint of a smile. He liked this little bratty side of you. You were always so nice. So put together for everyone even when you hunt. But sometimes, just for him, you aren’t so nice. And fuck if he didn’t want to spank you for it.

But you were a friend. Sammy’s friend. And you were on the road with them. And more importantly you didn’t want him.

It didn’t stop him from fantasizing about it though. About you. He bet you’d be soft and sweet and beg for him while you cry pretty tears. And you’d taste like fucking sugar. Bet you’d promise to be oh so good and then you’d be a feral little brat desperate to be punished.

But he couldn’t have any of that.

Besides, you deserved so much better than him. You deserved someone who worshipped you, and let you be a damn princess.

He can’t exactly give you a life of luxury. Or hell even a life of peace. But he can get you ice cream or pasta or heating pads or whatever you need.

He’ll take care of you for as long as he can. That’s for damn sure.

Shit…he’s just been staring at you for a minute. “Not what I was asking for sweetheart. Tell me about your periods. About the birth control.”

Your head tilted and those big eyes blinked at him for a second. Damn you were fucking cute.

“Why?”

“…why?” Dean repeated slowly

“Yeah” you nodded your head, not giving him shit anymore just genuinely asking. “Why do you wanna know?”

Deans stomach twisted, you had no idea how important you are to him.

“We’re friends aren’t we? Besides, we're basically living together here sweetheart.”

You puff out a long sigh and roll your eyes at the ceiling like Dean won’t notice. Yeah… he likes your bratty side.

“Wellll yeah.. the birth control like stabilizes my hormones. Cause mine uh don’t exactly balance naturally. And it kinda sucks. So I’m hoping they have my brand at the pharmacy here.”

“Why does it suck?” He pushed, needing to know more. To know everything about you

“Usual woman stuff, mood swings, bad periods, blah, blah, blah”

“How can I help?” Dean rasped, desperate for a way to be close. To take care of you.

Your head tipped back in a laugh, exposing the pretty column of your throat. “I’m good, promise. Im not going to keep yelling at you. What happened to Sam?” You asked looking around

Dean signed letting you change the subject, “Motels down the street. Dropped him to get rooms”

————————

When you get to the motel you find out that Sam didn’t get rooms, he got one singular room.

It didn’t even have a couch. Just 2 queen beds, a nightstand, and a little table and chairs.

Fan - fucking - tastic

You wanted to scream. But you literally just promised Dean that your period and hormones wouldn’t be a problem for him.

A petulant sigh escaped you anyways. You didn’t even set your bag down, just hauled it with you towards the bathroom, calling “I’m taking a shower first” over your shoulder as you went.

The shower didn’t get near as hot as you would like, but the warm water still soothed a little bit. You scrubbed the blood stains off your thighs and out of your panties before the nausea returned with a vengeance.

You dried off slowly and slipped into the comfiest clothes you had. A baggy set of sweats you got at the men’s section of a Walmart years ago. The pants sat low off your hips and dragged on the floor. The sweatshirt was perfectly oversized too, not pulling on your curves and loose around the neck. And it was scattered with a few burn holes you little to fiddle with, that actually came from a camp fire and not a case. (You were camped out on a hunt for a wendgo)

When you killed as much time as you possibly can, you return to your sad little shared room of the night. Sam and Dean are huddled suspiciously close together. Talking about your period, obviously.

“Hungry sweetheart?” Dean crooned, dangling his keys. “ ‘s bar down the way, looks like they got good burger”

“Nope” you dropped onto the bed closest to you “you boys have fun though. Maybe bring me back some fries if you don’t find a hookup?”

Dean's jaw clenched as Sam rolled his eyes. “When do I ever?” He retorted with a scoff

“So prim Samuel”

Dean snorted a laugh. “I’ll bring you a burger too, y’ need more than fries.”

Your stomach flips and clenches. And that’s definitely just your body attacking your uterus. Not a reaction to Dean offering food, or the way he ignored the suggestion to get laid.

They were out the door a minute later, after you promised twice that you’d text them if you needed anything.

A lie of course, you wouldn’t bother them. But it got them out the door.

Not 10 minutes later you're back in the bathroom, losing a fight to keep down the crackers you ate in the car.

You peeled your sweatshirt off, the fabric rubbing wrong against your over sensitive nipples. Besides, cleaning blood out of clothes was enough work, if your sweatshirt was covered in sick no way were you cleaning it.

You were both shivering and sweating, from the cold dingy bathroom and the workout of trying to empty your already stomach. God, you felt pitiful and weak. Once again crying on a motel bathroom floor.

But not everyone can be a fucking Winchester, you’ve watched them save the whole damn world. And you can’t even get your body to function normally.

Rage at your body, and men in general, was enough fuel to end your hour long pity party and get your ass off the bathroom floor. You dragged yourself up with a groan before you saw your sweatshirt was still on the ground. It was staying there for now, if you bent over you’d end up on the floor again and you just got up. Besides - the boys shouldn’t be back for a bit. So it’s not like you’d scar them walking around topless, holding your swollen tits in place so they stop fucking bouncing.

Unfortunately - the universe, or the gods, or whoever, is out to get you today. Because when you look up, there’s Dean fucking Winchester. Sitting at the dinky table with a bunch of bags on the table, staring at your breasts.

You don’t really care about him seeing, it’s not like you’re modest. And you’ve got great tits if you do say so yourself. Full, pierced, and nipples the same shade of pink as your lips. Any other week you would be thrilled, and definitely tease him. But he’s been exceptionally weird today. And you just want a damn minute to yourself.

You opened your mouth to yell at him. Before you remembered your stupid promise. Letting out a sigh instead as you turned back to the bathroom to grab the forgotten sweatshirt. Groan successfully bitten back when pain spikes as you bend.

You emerge back into the motel room and Dean is still frozen, still staring, despite the sweatshirt now in his way.

“You’re staring”

Deans green eyes immediately snap up to yours. “Shit… ‘m sorry sweetheart… but I uh didn’t expect you to be… uh…topless”

“You were supposed to be out” you’re not yelling, but your tone is decidedly clipped. Annoyance bleeding into every word

“Y’always walk around like that when you’re alone?” His jade green eyes sparkling with mischief. Hes unfortunately still cute when he’s being annoying.

“Sometimes” you said shrugging.

“ and you’re pierced?” He’s back to staring at your tits through the sweatshirt

“Your observation skills are truly unmatched” you deadpanned “so what happened? Why you back early?”

That seems to snap him back to reality, as his eyes leave your chest to sweep over his collection of bags.

“ ‘m back to hang out with you, obviously. And I brought you stuff”

“Oookay” you drawled out, not understanding this at all. “What did Sam do now?”

Dean just grunted “Sammy’s fine. He was talking to some other nerds at the bar. Asking about the case.”

So he just abandoned his brother, on a hunt, to come back here?

Oh god he’s going to kick you out. The bleeding and hormones freaked him out. Or he thinks you’re a liability or something. Like you cant hunt anymore.

Fuck! You had to bite down on the inside of your lips to hold back the tears. This gorgeous asshole will not make you cry.

Dean sighed, “just check out what I brought ya, alright sweetheart?” He was already pulling stuff out of bags. Soon enough the table was covered with a burger and fries, all your favorite gas station snacks too, crackers, candies, chips, gatorade, cherry coke, even the instant noodles you like. Theres even boxes of tampons and pads, and a heating pad, even a box of midol.

The barely contained tears spill fast and hot down your cheeks. “What the fuck?!” You rasped out, halfway between a yell and a whisper

“I… I uh… dammit sweetheart ‘m just trying to help. Didn’t mean to make you cry”

You collapse into Deans lap, tucking your head into his neck.

His massive warm arms wrap around you immediately. One hand landing at your hip holding you close, the other pushed up the sweatshirt at the small of your back - callused fingers drawing soothing circles over your skin. “ ‘m sorry honey” he murmurs into your hair

When you can finally catch your breath and the collar of Deans flannel is soaked from your tears, you try to pull back from where you’ve pressed against him. Deans hands tighten around you instead.

You press a kiss to the stubbled skin at his neck. He stiffens slightly under you so you press another one in the same spot. “Thank you for all this De. I’m not upset. I’m just…surprised. And hormonal. Sorry for the crying” you mutter against him, lips sliding against stubbly skin with every word.

You never thought you’d get him this close, you can’t help but press another kiss this time against that perfectly chiseled jaw.

Dean puffs out a breath that flutters your hair. “So…” his Adam’s apple bobs on a hard swallow and you want to lean over and bite it. “You like what I got ya?”

Fuck yes. You like that he got you anything. You like that he’s a little unsure. You like it so much it makes you a little feral and you want to sink to your knees for him and prove how much you like it.

But then your stomach clenches hard, with a stabbing pain low. You’re half surprised there’s not a knife digging in right where your ovaries are. You hiss out a breath from the pain, and snatch the midol and Gatorade off the table. Swallowing back a few pills. “Very much De, thank you”

“Don’t have to thank me honey, but will ya eat some of this?”

“Later” you assented “not hungry”

He grumbled and settled you closer against him. “Don’t think y’ ‘ve eaten besides those crackers on the road. C’mon just a little f’ me?”

You puffed out a sigh, “Would if I could. If I can keep the midol down it’ll be a miracle.”

He cups your chin and tilts your head up to look at his warm green eyes. “You said you were good” he tuts “tell me how you’re really doing”

You worry your lip between your teeth, not 100% sold on opening up.

He doesn’t push, just waiting steady. Holding your chin.

You groan, “oookay fine…I’m not doing good. My periods are kinda brutal. I can’t stop throwing up. Everything hurts. I think I’m losing like gallons of blood. And the mood swings are clearly fucking with me.”

His thumb brushes against your jaw and you swear your brain just shut off. He asked you something, from the way he’s looking at you but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what it was.

“Huh?” You blink at him, trying to get your brain to restart.

Except he keeps brushing his callused thumb against your jaw, the rest of those big fingers holding your head in place. And the flannel is bunched up exposing those outrageous veiny forearms. And you can’t process anything that’s coming out of his pretty mouth.

“Okay I can’t hear a word you say when you touch me like that” you blurt out, maybe a little too loudly

His chuckle is deep and rumbling, fingers flexing slightly, before he pulls them back and wraps his arm back around you. “ ‘m gonna remember that for later, but I was askin for details sweetheart. How do y’ hurt”

You huff out a breath, annoyed he moved his hand to interrogate about what’s wrong with you, but you answer anyways. “Cramps of course, but it also feels like there’s a knife twisting in my ovaries. Back hurts like I just dug up a whole family of bones. And my tits are swollen and painful and sensitive. And that also makes my back hurt. My head throbs. My joints ache.

“But I’ll be fine,” you add quickly “its the mood swings and the nausea that make it bad anyways.”

You finally drag your eyes from his chest up to meet his, and those mesmerizing green eyes are heavy with sadness. “You should’ve told me. We could’ve stayed in that town, taken a couple days off.”

“What about the case?”

He scoffs “Assholes who were ganked , cheated on their wives, bullied grown men, stole from their employees pensions, and yelled at kids. Think they had it comin’. Besides Sammy can handle one case on his own.”

“What about you?”

“Me? Honey imma stay right here with you and rub your back, and hold your hair when you puke, and get you snacks. Besides - ya need someone to yell at and cry on.”

“But -“

He stood, still holding you in his arms, and cut off whatever you were going to say next. Dean places you gently in bed, like you’re made of something special.

He brings over the Gatorade and crackers and plugs in the heating pad, settling it low on your stomach. He tucks himself in beside you, leaning up on the headboard, as his fingers brush through your hair.

“Why are you doing all this?” You murmur lazily. Melting immediately into Deans comfort.

“I wanna take care of my girl” he rasps gently, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Your girl?” It comes out a little slurred, the sleep deprivation catching up quickly.

“Yeah sweetheart, my girl. If y’ll have me”

“M’kay” You turn into him, nuzzling into his flannel covered chest. “Mine” you murmur as you fall asleep in his arms

—————

Thank you for reading!!

Cool leather sticks to your bare legs as you shift and turn and try and find anyway to get comfortable.

The backseat of the impala is usually your favorite place to nap, but you’ve been on the road for 7 hours. And there’s probably another 2 or 3 left until you get to the next hunt.

Worse, your period started last night. And this month is fucking brutal. You had your own motel room last night, so the boys didn’t know you spent the night on the nasty bathroom floor - alternating between purging your stomach and crying.

Fucking pitiful, but in the privacy of your own space you allowed yourself to be as sad and whiny as you wanted.

Now, you’ll suck it up.

Slow sips of Gatorade and bites of crackers are all you’ve had today. Dean would fucking kill you if you got sick all over his baby.

You so desperately, pathetically, wanted Dean to like you. So you’ll pretend to be fine. And you won't get sick back here.

The impala lurches over a patch of uneven asphalt and your breath catches in your throat as pain throbs with every bump. Your head, your back, your boobs, your uterus, hell even your knees hurt.

“You alright back there sweetheart?” Dean calls low, his voice rumbling right alongside his precious car.

“Fine” you call, a little breathier than intended. Waving a hand in the air at him to try and prove your weak statement

Dean hums at your response, so it seems he’s buying your lies for now.

It’ll be harder to get away with this out of the car. When they watch how little you can eat without getting sick, how stiff you’re sitting, how you can barely breathe without wincing. If you engage in conversation you might yell at them. Or cry.

You puff out a quiet breath and stare at the roof above you covered in that tan vinyl stuff that’s on the doors. Every inch is already ingrained in your brain but you stare anyway.

This car is more of a home than anywhere else has been in the last 10 years. And you’ve only been on the road with the Winchester’s for the last few months.

The thought slams into you unexpectedly and fat heavy tears roll down your cheeks before you can even process that you’re sad. And homesick. And lonely. And you wish you had a space of your own. A person of your own.

Fuck.

Swallowing back the tears you turn into the seat and wipe the evidence of your fragile state from your cheeks. Hiding from people closest to you.

But you can’t possibly have a heart to heart about the sacrifices of a hunter right now.

So, you listen to the two of them bicker over music and cases and worst motels they’ve stayed in. And eventually you drift back into a restless sleep.

—

Eyes are heavy and stuck together when you wake. Probably from crying in your sleep, again.

Dean’s baby is cool and quiet around you. His low rumbling hum of “Enter Sandman” is muffled and it takes a slow minute for your brain to catch up to reality as you flip to your back.

Dean’s outside, pumping gas and continuing to hum Metallica. Sam is nowhere to be found.

The drivers door opens and Dean leans over the bench seat to look down at you. Piercing green eyes meet your as he asks, “Sweetheart…what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong…?” You question back, not understanding what he wants from you. Is he like testing you on the case?

He just stares for a second as your thoughts continue to spiral.

“With you” He finally clarifies.

“What’s wrong with me?” You push back, the sharpness in your tone betraying the hurt in your chest. But you don’t give him a second to answer before you snap back “Maybe it’s waking up to rude fucking questions, Asshole!”

Dean stares at you for a long second before he pushes up off the seat and gets out of the car.

The door shutting sounds like a gunshot in the silence and you let out a shaky sigh. You didn’t mean to snap at him when he was just checking in. Just being a decent human and you had to yell at him.

Fucking hormones.

The door at your feet opened and Dean crawled in before you could object. Pulling your feet to sit on his lap. You just stared at the man trying to figure out what the fuck in going on.

Dean and you were hunter friends, sure. But it’s not like you were that close. Not emotional breakdown in the back seat together, close. No, your relationship revolved around hunts, and dive bars, and small talk about nothing. He barked orders and you rolled your eyes but followed them anyway.

But you couldn’t help but feeling more. Dean and Sam have been the only consistent people in you life in a very very long time. Sam felt like a brother you never had or a best friend from a life forgotten. Dean, well Dean you adored. You needed him to like you. To be proud of you. And fuck if you didn’t want to get on you knees and promise to be good if he’ll let you make him cum.

But you didn’t let your daddy issues affect reality. Even if the way he touched your ankles and looked at you like that makes you want to cry and crawl in his lap.

“Do you want to keep yelling at me? Or do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You sighed loud and long, staring at the roof “Sorry. Hormones are making me a little crazy”

His whole body tensed up under your feet. “Uhh.. what does…are you…pregnant or something?”

You pulled yourself up, leaning against the door opposite him and snapped “Jesus! No! I’m on my period idiot”

“Oh…Oh! Shark Week. Yeah. Okay” Dean blinked at you

You just rolled your eyes at him. Men are stupid.

“You’ve been on the road with us for months and I haven’t seen you like…this… before”

“Yeah well… I ran out of birth control a week ago. So”

He swallowed, hard. “I think you’re gonna have to walk me through it a little more sweetheart. I haven’t exactly lived with a woman before.”

“You’ve dated.”

Dean scoffs and rubs at the back of his neck. “Not really the same thing”

Obviously. You get the protective asshole. They get off the clock Dean in their bed. You couldnt help but chuckle at him despite the twinge in your heart “didn’t pay attention to anything other than you didn’t need to use condoms?”

“I always use condoms sweetheart”

“Okay okay” you wave your hands in between y’all “I don’t actually need to know” mostly because if he keeps talking about his sex life you might actually throw up back here.

“So…” Dean prods “Now that you’re out of birth control you what? get periods and yell at me and sigh and groan in the car?”

“Yup”

“And…?”

God what does he want from you?!

“And I’m sorry I yelled at you? But maybe don’t ask people what’s wrong with them. It's rude.”

———————

Dean’s lip twitched with a hint of a smile. He liked this little bratty side of you. You were always so nice. So put together for everyone even when you hunt. But sometimes, just for him, you aren’t so nice. And fuck if he didn’t want to spank you for it.

But you were a friend. Sammy’s friend. And you were on the road with them. And more importantly you didn’t want him.

It didn’t stop him from fantasizing about it though. About you. He bet you’d be soft and sweet and beg for him while you cry pretty tears. And you’d taste like fucking sugar. Bet you’d promise to be oh so good and then you’d be a feral little brat desperate to be punished.

But he couldn’t have any of that.

Besides, you deserved so much better than him. You deserved someone who worshipped you, and let you be a damn princess.

He can’t exactly give you a life of luxury. Or hell even a life of peace. But he can get you ice cream or pasta or heating pads or whatever you need.

He’ll take care of you for as long as he can. That’s for damn sure.

Shit…he’s just been staring at you for a minute. “Not what I was asking for sweetheart. Tell me about your periods. About the birth control.”

Your head tilted and those big eyes blinked at him for a second. Damn you were fucking cute.

“Why?”

“…why?” Dean repeated slowly

“Yeah” you nodded your head, not giving him shit anymore just genuinely asking. “Why do you wanna know?”

Deans stomach twisted, you had no idea how important you are to him.

“We’re friends aren’t we? Besides, we're basically living together here sweetheart.”

You puff out a long sigh and roll your eyes at the ceiling like Dean won’t notice. Yeah… he likes your bratty side.

“Wellll yeah.. the birth control like stabilizes my hormones. Cause mine uh don’t exactly balance naturally. And it kinda sucks. So I’m hoping they have my brand at the pharmacy here.”

“Why does it suck?” He pushed, needing to know more. To know everything about you

“Usual woman stuff, mood swings, bad periods, blah, blah, blah”

“How can I help?” Dean rasped, desperate for a way to be close. To take care of you.

Your head tipped back in a laugh, exposing the pretty column of your throat. “I’m good, promise. Im not going to keep yelling at you. What happened to Sam?” You asked looking around

Dean signed letting you change the subject, “Motels down the street. Dropped him to get rooms”

————————

When you get to the motel you find out that Sam didn’t get rooms, he got one singular room.

It didn’t even have a couch. Just 2 queen beds, a nightstand, and a little table and chairs.

Fan - fucking - tastic

You wanted to scream. But you literally just promised Dean that your period and hormones wouldn’t be a problem for him.

A petulant sigh escaped you anyways. You didn’t even set your bag down, just hauled it with you towards the bathroom, calling “I’m taking a shower first” over your shoulder as you went.

The shower didn’t get near as hot as you would like, but the warm water still soothed a little bit. You scrubbed the blood stains off your thighs and out of your panties before the nausea returned with a vengeance.

You dried off slowly and slipped into the comfiest clothes you had. A baggy set of sweats you got at the men’s section of a Walmart years ago. The pants sat low off your hips and dragged on the floor. The sweatshirt was perfectly oversized too, not pulling on your curves and loose around the neck. And it was scattered with a few burn holes you little to fiddle with, that actually came from a camp fire and not a case. (You were camped out on a hunt for a wendgo)

When you killed as much time as you possibly can, you return to your sad little shared room of the night. Sam and Dean are huddled suspiciously close together. Talking about your period, obviously.

“Hungry sweetheart?” Dean crooned, dangling his keys. “ ‘s bar down the way, looks like they got good burger”

“Nope” you dropped onto the bed closest to you “you boys have fun though. Maybe bring me back some fries if you don’t find a hookup?”

Dean's jaw clenched as Sam rolled his eyes. “When do I ever?” He retorted with a scoff

“So prim Samuel”

Dean snorted a laugh. “I’ll bring you a burger too, y’ need more than fries.”

Your stomach flips and clenches. And that’s definitely just your body attacking your uterus. Not a reaction to Dean offering food, or the way he ignored the suggestion to get laid.

They were out the door a minute later, after you promised twice that you’d text them if you needed anything.

A lie of course, you wouldn’t bother them. But it got them out the door.

Not 10 minutes later you're back in the bathroom, losing a fight to keep down the crackers you ate in the car.

You peeled your sweatshirt off, the fabric rubbing wrong against your over sensitive nipples. Besides, cleaning blood out of clothes was enough work, if your sweatshirt was covered in sick no way were you cleaning it.

You were both shivering and sweating, from the cold dingy bathroom and the workout of trying to empty your already stomach. God, you felt pitiful and weak. Once again crying on a motel bathroom floor.

But not everyone can be a fucking Winchester, you’ve watched them save the whole damn world. And you can’t even get your body to function normally.

Rage at your body, and men in general, was enough fuel to end your hour long pity party and get your ass off the bathroom floor. You dragged yourself up with a groan before you saw your sweatshirt was still on the ground. It was staying there for now, if you bent over you’d end up on the floor again and you just got up. Besides - the boys shouldn’t be back for a bit. So it’s not like you’d scar them walking around topless, holding your swollen tits in place so they stop fucking bouncing.

Unfortunately - the universe, or the gods, or whoever, is out to get you today. Because when you look up, there’s Dean fucking Winchester. Sitting at the dinky table with a bunch of bags on the table, staring at your breasts.

You don’t really care about him seeing, it’s not like you’re modest. And you’ve got great tits if you do say so yourself. Full, pierced, and nipples the same shade of pink as your lips. Any other week you would be thrilled, and definitely tease him. But he’s been exceptionally weird today. And you just want a damn minute to yourself.

You opened your mouth to yell at him. Before you remembered your stupid promise. Letting out a sigh instead as you turned back to the bathroom to grab the forgotten sweatshirt. Groan successfully bitten back when pain spikes as you bend.

You emerge back into the motel room and Dean is still frozen, still staring, despite the sweatshirt now in his way.

“You’re staring”

Deans green eyes immediately snap up to yours. “Shit… ‘m sorry sweetheart… but I uh didn’t expect you to be… uh…topless”

“You were supposed to be out” you’re not yelling, but your tone is decidedly clipped. Annoyance bleeding into every word

“Y’always walk around like that when you’re alone?” His jade green eyes sparkling with mischief. Hes unfortunately still cute when he’s being annoying.

“Sometimes” you said shrugging.

“ and you’re pierced?” He’s back to staring at your tits through the sweatshirt

“Your observation skills are truly unmatched” you deadpanned “so what happened? Why you back early?”

That seems to snap him back to reality, as his eyes leave your chest to sweep over his collection of bags.

“ ‘m back to hang out with you, obviously. And I brought you stuff”

“Oookay” you drawled out, not understanding this at all. “What did Sam do now?”

Dean just grunted “Sammy’s fine. He was talking to some other nerds at the bar. Asking about the case.”

So he just abandoned his brother, on a hunt, to come back here?

Oh god he’s going to kick you out. The bleeding and hormones freaked him out. Or he thinks you’re a liability or something. Like you cant hunt anymore.

Fuck! You had to bite down on the inside of your lips to hold back the tears. This gorgeous asshole will not make you cry.

Dean sighed, “just check out what I brought ya, alright sweetheart?” He was already pulling stuff out of bags. Soon enough the table was covered with a burger and fries, all your favorite gas station snacks too, crackers, candies, chips, gatorade, cherry coke, even the instant noodles you like. Theres even boxes of tampons and pads, and a heating pad, even a box of midol.

The barely contained tears spill fast and hot down your cheeks. “What the fuck?!” You rasped out, halfway between a yell and a whisper

“I… I uh… dammit sweetheart ‘m just trying to help. Didn’t mean to make you cry”

You collapse into Deans lap, tucking your head into his neck.

His massive warm arms wrap around you immediately. One hand landing at your hip holding you close, the other pushed up the sweatshirt at the small of your back - callused fingers drawing soothing circles over your skin. “ ‘m sorry honey” he murmurs into your hair

When you can finally catch your breath and the collar of Deans flannel is soaked from your tears, you try to pull back from where you’ve pressed against him. Deans hands tighten around you instead.

You press a kiss to the stubbled skin at his neck. He stiffens slightly under you so you press another one in the same spot. “Thank you for all this De. I’m not upset. I’m just…surprised. And hormonal. Sorry for the crying” you mutter against him, lips sliding against stubbly skin with every word.

You never thought you’d get him this close, you can’t help but press another kiss this time against that perfectly chiseled jaw.

Dean puffs out a breath that flutters your hair. “So…” his Adam’s apple bobs on a hard swallow and you want to lean over and bite it. “You like what I got ya?”

Fuck yes. You like that he got you anything. You like that he’s a little unsure. You like it so much it makes you a little feral and you want to sink to your knees for him and prove how much you like it.

But then your stomach clenches hard, with a stabbing pain low. You’re half surprised there’s not a knife digging in right where your ovaries are. You hiss out a breath from the pain, and snatch the midol and Gatorade off the table. Swallowing back a few pills. “Very much De, thank you”

“Don’t have to thank me honey, but will ya eat some of this?”

“Later” you assented “not hungry”

He grumbled and settled you closer against him. “Don’t think y’ ‘ve eaten besides those crackers on the road. C’mon just a little f’ me?”

You puffed out a sigh, “Would if I could. If I can keep the midol down it’ll be a miracle.”

He cups your chin and tilts your head up to look at his warm green eyes. “You said you were good” he tuts “tell me how you’re really doing”

You worry your lip between your teeth, not 100% sold on opening up.

He doesn’t push, just waiting steady. Holding your chin.

You groan, “oookay fine…I’m not doing good. My periods are kinda brutal. I can’t stop throwing up. Everything hurts. I think I’m losing like gallons of blood. And the mood swings are clearly fucking with me.”

His thumb brushes against your jaw and you swear your brain just shut off. He asked you something, from the way he’s looking at you but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what it was.

“Huh?” You blink at him, trying to get your brain to restart.

Except he keeps brushing his callused thumb against your jaw, the rest of those big fingers holding your head in place. And the flannel is bunched up exposing those outrageous veiny forearms. And you can’t process anything that’s coming out of his pretty mouth.

“Okay I can’t hear a word you say when you touch me like that” you blurt out, maybe a little too loudly

His chuckle is deep and rumbling, fingers flexing slightly, before he pulls them back and wraps his arm back around you. “ ‘m gonna remember that for later, but I was askin for details sweetheart. How do y’ hurt”

You huff out a breath, annoyed he moved his hand to interrogate about what’s wrong with you, but you answer anyways. “Cramps of course, but it also feels like there’s a knife twisting in my ovaries. Back hurts like I just dug up a whole family of bones. And my tits are swollen and painful and sensitive. And that also makes my back hurt. My head throbs. My joints ache.

“But I’ll be fine,” you add quickly “its the mood swings and the nausea that make it bad anyways.”

You finally drag your eyes from his chest up to meet his, and those mesmerizing green eyes are heavy with sadness. “You should’ve told me. We could’ve stayed in that town, taken a couple days off.”

“What about the case?”

He scoffs “Assholes who were ganked , cheated on their wives, bullied grown men, stole from their employees pensions, and yelled at kids. Think they had it comin’. Besides Sammy can handle one case on his own.”

“What about you?”

“Me? Honey imma stay right here with you and rub your back, and hold your hair when you puke, and get you snacks. Besides - ya need someone to yell at and cry on.”

“But -“

He stood, still holding you in his arms, and cut off whatever you were going to say next. Dean places you gently in bed, like you’re made of something special.

He brings over the Gatorade and crackers and plugs in the heating pad, settling it low on your stomach. He tucks himself in beside you, leaning up on the headboard, as his fingers brush through your hair.

“Why are you doing all this?” You murmur lazily. Melting immediately into Deans comfort.

“I wanna take care of my girl” he rasps gently, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Your girl?” It comes out a little slurred, the sleep deprivation catching up quickly.

“Yeah sweetheart, my girl. If y’ll have me”

“M’kay” You turn into him, nuzzling into his flannel covered chest. “Mine” you murmur as you fall asleep in his arms

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Thank you for reading!!