tw/warnings: smut, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, friends to lovers, desperate!Dean, unprotected p in v, face riding, oral sex (f receiving), cum eating, fingers in mouth (both), slight dirty talk.
You’d known Dean Winchester for what felt like forever.
Long before the hunting, before the endless motel rooms and sleepless nights on the road became your normal, there had been scraped knees, stolen snacks from gas stations, and summers spent trying to keep Sam and Dean out of trouble.
Growing up alongside the Winchester brothers meant learning early that Dean carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, even when he was just a kid pretending everything was fine.
And maybe that was why you’d offered him a back massage in the first place.
The hunt had been rough. Dean had spent most of the drive back hunched over the steering wheel of the Impala, insisting he was “fine” despite the stiffness in his movements and the occasional wince he thought nobody noticed. You noticed, of course. You always did.
What you hadn’t expected was just how much he needed it.
Seated on the edge of the motel bed, Dean let out a long breath as your hands worked at the knots buried deep in his shoulders. Years of fighting monsters, carrying weapons, and refusing to take care of himself had left his muscles impossibly tense.
The second you found a particularly stubborn knot near his shoulder blade, his head tipped back and a sound escaped him before he could stop it
“Ah, shit…” he groaned, eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah, that’s the spot. Mm….”
You paused for half a second, trying, and failing, not to laugh.
You sat here, kneading his shoulders as he groaned and moaned and squirmed. You chuckled, looking at the back of his head.
„stop making those sounds.” You chuckled.„somebody will think you’re getting the best head of your life.” you said, kneading his muscles.
Dean snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching as he fought a grin. He didn’t open his eyes, couldn’t risk breaking this moment.
“Oh, please,” he drawled, voice low and lazy from relief, „like I’d make noises that embarrassing for anything less than a damn miracle.”
He shifted slightly under your hands, not pulling away, just leaning into the pressure like a cat begging for scratches. Another knot gave way with a sharp pop and Dean exhaled through his nose like he’d been punched in the gut by pleasure.
“You’re evil,” he muttered, “doing this on purpose.”
Because you were right, those sounds? Pathetic. But you also knew exactly where every ache lived in him after years of hunting side by side. No one else touched him like this.
You couldn’t help it. Dean Winchester, the toughest son of a bitch you knew, melting under your fingers like warm butter? Pure gold.
Your thumbs pressed harder into the base of his neck, the spot that always made him tense up when he was stressed. And oh yeah, he definitely tensed.
Not from pain this time, but because it felt too good and he hated how obvious it was.
“Oh my god,” you cooed, “you’re purring.”
He wasn’t making any noise now, just breathing deep and slow like a man who’d finally stopped running for five seconds, but your teasing lit him up anyway.
Leaning down slightly so your hair fell over one shoulder, you blew gently on the back of his neck where sweat had started to glisten. Dean’s entire body jerked, like he’d been shocked by a live wire.
„Jesus!” he barked, head snapping forward as his hands flew up to swat blindly behind him like you were an attack spider. But there was no real anger, just flustered, wide-eyed panic.
He whipped around fast enough to glare at you over his shoulder, and wow. There you sat. Smirking like the devil itself with those big eyes full of mischief and victory.
“You’re insane,” he accused, voice cracking slightly. „Who does that?!”
The flush crawling up his neck betrayed him completely, the tips of ears turning red under messy dark hair.
You were absolutely, shamelessly enjoying yourself. That little gasp he’d made? The way his shoulders hitched like a startled animal?
Still smirking, you reached out and flicked the tip of his ear, just once, before leaning back with your arms crossed, looking far too pleased with yourself.
“You’re all tense,” you said innocently, “needed to cool you down.”
Like that made any sense. Like blowing on someone’s neck was a legitimate massage technique. You weren’t even trying to be believable, and that only made it funnier.
Dean’s ear stung, more from embarrassment than the flick, and he rubbed it instinctively, glaring at you like you had just committed a war crime.
“Cool me down?” he repeated, voice rising an octave. “You blew on my neck like I’m a damn bowl of soup!”
He opened his mouth to retort, maybe throw a pillow at you, but you were still sitting there looking so smug, arms crossed like some queen who’d just won the throne through pure teasing cruelty.
A beat passed. Then another.
And despite himself… despite everything… Dean felt the corner of his lips twitch again. And oh, you were relentless.
The way Dean’s face twisted, half outrage, half helpless amusement, sent you straight into victory mode. You leaned forward again, propping your elbows on your knees.
“Aw,” you cooed, “are you blushing? Oh my god. You’re totally blushing.”
You didn’t wait for a denial, because you knew there’d be one coming in three… two…
“No I’m not!” Dean snapped instantly, “It’s hot in here! The AC broken!”
Without missing a beat, you reached out and booped his nose with one finger. And that broke it, absolutely and utterly broke it. One second you were smug. The next you were airborne.
Dean moved fast, faster than anyone who’d just been melting like a stress ball had any right to. In one fluid motion, he twisted and lunged, catching you off-guard as his arms wrapped around your waist.
“You’re dead,” he growled playfully before tackling you backward onto the motel bed with a soft thud.
The springs creaked under you as you tumbled across the saggy mattress, blankets flying everywhere. Dean wasn’t trying to hurt you, and in seconds he had both of your wrists trapped above your heads with one large hand while the other hovered near your ribs like a threat.
His face hovered over yours, dark eyes glinting with mischief and revenge-laced glee.
You let out a squeal, actual, undignified, high-pitched, and immediately started squirming like a trapped squirrel.
“Dean! No! No!” you shrieked between breathless giggles, “I take it back—I take everything back!”
But your protest was utterly useless. The second his fingers brushed your side with the lightest tickle, just one feathery poke near your ribs, your entire body convulsed in laughter.
Your legs kicked. Your head thrashed against the pillow. Tears pricked at the corners of those big eyes as you laughed harder than you had in months.
Oh, he saw this for exactly what it was. Payback served cold and fast. So he did it again. And again.
Dean grinned like a wolf who’d just cornered the last rabbit in the woods, wide, wicked, and utterly delighted.
Every giggle you let out fueled him. Every flail of your legs? Music. The way your face scrunched up with laughter, tears actually forming at the corners of you eyes?
“Ohhh no,” he teased, voice low and mocking, “you don’t get to take it back now.”
He attacked again, fingers darting rapidly over both sides of your stomach this time, not rough but relentless, a quick three-tap combo right where he knew you were the weakest from years of teasing each other as kids.
The world spun as Dean kept tickling you, his weight shifting naturally between your legs to keep himself balanced on the narrow motel bed. The mattress dipped under him, and suddenly he was… there.
You didn’t notice at first, not through the haze of laughter that had stolen all coherent thoughts. Your body was too busy convulsing with joy, stomach aching from laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe.
But then, A shift. Warmth pressed against your thighs.
His jeans brushed against soft fabric of your pants and something about it sent a jolt through the chaos in your brain. Your giggles faltered for half a second.
The laughter didn’t stop entirely, just hiccuped, stuttering like a broken record. For that split second, your breath stopped. The warmth between your legs wasn’t just Dean’s weight, it was Dean. Close.
Your hands were still pinned above your head by one of his large ones, but now… you could feel it, the heat of him through both layers of clothes, the faint pressure as he pressed further between your legs.
You hadn't planned this. Hadn't thought about him being over you, like this, not even when they'd been teasing each other all night. And suddenly? The room felt smaller. The air thicker.
Dean was still grinning, his breath coming a little faster than usual.
He looked down at you for the first time since tackling you onto the bed. The laughter had died in your eyes, replaced by that quiet intensity you got when you were thinking too hard about nothing.
His voice dropped without meaning to, softer now, almost tender beneath its usual gruffness.
“Hey,” he murmured, “you okay?”
The teasing edge was gone. Just Dean. Concerned and suddenly aware of how close you were, your faces just inches apart, your bodies aligned in a way that wasn’t funny anymore.
Your breath caught as you finally registered the hard press between your thighs. Not aggressive, not demanding… just there. Unavoidable.
Dean had always been broad-shouldered and built like a tank, but right now? The evidence of his body’s reaction was undeniable beneath the worn denim of his jeans. A slow heat crawled up your neck, not embarrassment exactly. Something warmer. Sharper.
You swallowed hard, heart suddenly hammering in a way that had nothing to do with laughter anymore. Then a smirk tugged at one corner of your mouth.
“Well,” you said softly, voice lower than usual, „someone’s definitely happy.”
The words were teasing, but careful this time. Testing. Dean froze. No dramatic gasp or sudden stiffening. Just… a quiet stillness, like the world had hit pause.
His cheeks darkened instantly but this time it wasn’t just flustered anger. This was embarrassment. The kind that comes when you’re caught red-handed and there’s no joking your way out of it.
He didn’t let go of your wrists right away. Couldn’t decide if he should pull back completely or… not.
“Shut up,” he muttered, but there was zero bite to it. His voice came out rougher than usual, low and thick with something unspoken.
You could see the exact moment his brain short-circuited, the way his green eyes flickered, the slight parting of his lips like he was about to say something but forgot how words worked.
Your smirk widened. Just a little. Not cruel but undeniably pleased with yourself for flustering him this badly.
“Dean,” you said again, slower this time, „are you… blushing?”
The question hung in the air between them, light and playful but loaded as hell. You shifted slightly beneath him, adjusting just enough that your thigh brushed against where he was already painfully hard.
His breath hitched and you felt it. Against your leg. Through the layers of fabric.
Dean Winchester, master hunter, fearless monster killer, unshakable force of nature… currently short-circuiting because a girl was looking at him like that, and teasing him about something he couldn’t exactly control right now.
“No,” he lied instantly, “I’m not blushing.”
He said it fast and immediately regretted how defensive it sounded. His ears were burning though, there was no hiding that. The tips were bright red.
The brush of your thigh against him, accidental or not, he didn’t care, sent a jolt straight through his nerves like static shock. Dean’s jaw clenched. Just slightly. A reflex to keep from doing something stupid. Like kissing you.
He still hadn't let go of your wrists, but his grip had loosened without him realizing it. The tension in his hand gone slack with distraction as all the blood in his body seemed to rush southward.
His eyes dropped for half a second, to your lips and then snapped back up like they’d betrayed him.
You watched him, every flicker of his expression, every tiny shift in his body, and your heart thumped harder with each second. This was Dean. The guy who never backed down from a fight, who smirked through blood and bruises like it was nothing.
And right now? He looked nervous.
The realization hit you like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, he actually cared what you thought. Right now. In this moment.
A slow warmth bloomed in your chest, not just attraction, but something softer underneath it all. Affection so deep it scared you sometimes.
“You’re really bad at hiding things,” You whispered, “you know that?”
Still smiling slightly, you tilted your head just a little, offering him an opening without words.
Dean swallowed hard, his throat dry, and then, suddenly, he wasn’t nervous anymore. He was Dean Winchester again, old, direct, no-nonsense.
He leaned down just a fraction closer, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips and narrowed his eyes slightly. Not angry. Challenging.
“You’re the one who started this,” he said quietly, “with all your stupid teasing and booping my nose like I’m some damn puppy.”
A beat passed. His voice dropped lower.
“And now you’re looking at me like that. Smiling all sweet… giving me that little head tilt…”
His free hand, the one not still loosely holding your wrist, lifted slowly toward your face.
The second his rough, calloused fingertips brushed your cheek, so gently it barely registered, your breath stopped.
Dean wasn’t graceful. He wasn’t poetic. But the way he touched you? Like you were something fragile and precious? It undid everything.
His thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone, slow and deliberate, before sliding into the soft hair near your temple.
The other hand finally released your wrist completely, freeing both of yours, but he didn’t pull away.
Instead, Dean leaned in even closer… so close now that their noses almost touched… and paused there. A silent question hung between them.
Your breath was shallow, your heart pounding so loud she swore he could hear it. The space between you crackled, charged with everything unsaid for years.
“Dean,” you murmured, voice low and sultry, laced with a confidence that surprised even yourself. “You’ve been looking at my mouth since I teased you.”
A pause. Your blue eyes flicked down to his lips, deliberately, and back up again.
“Kiss me.” Not a request. A command.
The second those words hit his ears, low, sure, and dripping with that kind of boldness he’d never heard from you before, Dean’s control snapped. No hesitation. No second-guessing.
In one fluid motion, he closed the gap between you and crushed his mouth to yours. The kiss was hungry. His lips moved against yours hard but not rough, the kind of kiss that made your toes curl and your stomach flip at the same time.
One hand slid into your hair while the other cupped your jaw, tilting your head just right so he could deepen it further.
The kiss turned electric, messy, desperate, and perfect. Dean’s lips were warm and demanding against yours, his stubble grazing your skin just enough to send sparks down your spine.
You kissed him back just as fiercely, no hesitation now. Your fingers tangled in his hair instantly, soft strands slipping between them as you pulled him closer like you couldn’t get enough.
A quiet moan escaped you when he bit gently at your bottom lip and the sound made Dean growl low in his throat.
He shifted over you on the bed, his weight pressing down more deliberately now, not crushing but claiming space, one knee sliding between your legs.
The growl that rumbled from Dean’s chest was primal, raw, unfiltered, and it vibrated through your lips where they were still locked together.
He loved that sound you made. Loved it. And now he wanted to hear more. His knee pressed between your legs as his body settled fully over you, caging you in without pressure but leaving zero space for escape, not that you’d want any.
The heat of him surrounded you completely, broad shoulders blocking out the dim motel light, hard chest rising and falling fast against yours.
Your breath came in short, warm puffs against his lips between kisses, each one deeper than the last. And then you did something bold.
“God, Dean…” You whispered right before crashing your mouth back onto his, but this time with teeth and tongue and a hunger that surprised even you.
Then you shifted under him, grinding down slowly against his thigh where it pressed between your legs, a deliberate roll of your hips that sent fire straight through both of you.
The friction was electric through layers of fabric, soft cotton pants over denim jeans. Not enough contact to be satisfying, but just enough to make everything ache for more.
A low moan slipped out as you did it again, and again, and again.
Dean broke the kiss just enough to trail his lips down your jaw, rough stubble scraping deliciously against soft skin, before growling right into your ear.
“You’ve been driving me insane all night,” his voice was low, gravelly with desire, „teasing me… touching me… and now you’re grinding on my leg like that?”
He bit gently at your earlobe before whispering.
“Fuck. You wanna know how bad I want you? How long I’ve thought about doing this?”
His hand slid down further, gripping your hip hard as he ground back against the motion. A slow, deliberate rock of his thigh up between you.
The friction sent a jolt through you, electric, intoxicating, and Dean wasn’t done talking. Not even close.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered against your neck, voice thick with lust, “all this blonde hair… those eyes… and you kiss me like you own me.”
He sucked lightly on the sensitive spot just below your ear before adding in that same rough whisper,
“I’ve fantasized about this. About holding you down and kissing every inch of your skin until you scream my name.”
His teeth grazed over your collarbone as his hand slipped under the hem of your shirt, warm palm sliding up along your bare stomach.
Your breath came faster now, uneven, hot, as Dean’s hand slid higher under your shirt. The touch burned through you like wildfire.
“God,” You gasped, arching into his palm, “your hands feel so good… I’ve wanted you to touch me like this for years.”
You tilted your head back, baring more of your throat to him as you whispered, low and sultry.
“Kissing me? Yeah… but what else do you wanna do? Huh?”
“I bet you think about fucking me all the time.” you smiled.
Dean’s entire body went rigid for a split second, like someone had flipped a switch and turned him into pure instinct.
Your words hit him like a punch to the gut. Dirty. Direct. No games, no teasing, just raw honesty that made his blood boil in the best way.
A growl rumbled deep in his chest as he dragged his mouth back up to yours, kissing you hard again, hungrier this time, messier.
Then he broke away just enough to glare down at you with dark eyes full of heat and hunger before muttering.
His hand kept climbing under your shirt while the other gripped tight at your waist, and then suddenly, he rolled them both over so you were straddling him instead.
The sudden shift in position sent your heart leaping, now you were on top, straddling Dean’s hips while he lay beneath you, eyes blazing up at yours.
He looked good. So good. All that messy dark hair fanned out on the pillow, lips swollen from kissing, chest rising fast under his tight black t-shirt.
And the way he was looking at you? Like she was dessert and he’d been starving for weeks.
You leaned down and kissed him again, slow this time but deep and searing. Your tongue slid against his, your hands ripping his shirt off of him over his head.
„i need you.” You breathed, pressing your hips onto his crotch.
The second your lips crashed back onto his, Dean let out a low groan as you tore his shirt off. The cool motel air hit his skin for just a second before your body pressed down on him again.
Your weight over him was perfect, warm and soft where it mattered, firm in all the right places. And when you ground against him? Jesus Christ.
His hands flew to your hips instantly, big palms gripping tight as he kissed back with everything he had. No teasing now. Just raw need.
He arched up into the kiss like he couldn’t get close enough, one hand sliding around to pull at the hem of your shirt this time, pulling it off.
„i’ve been thinking about this for way too long.” He breathed against your heated skin, his hands sliding up your ribcage.
You smiled, running your hands through his short hair as you could feel his cock twitching beneath you as he spoke, his hips pushing up.
„Yeah? How long?” You said quietly.
He breathed heavily, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra slowly, letting the lace fabric slide down you arms and onto his lap.
„Since you were nineteen.” He whispered, grabbing one of your breasts and slightly squeezing. „when i saw you… on your nineteenth birthday in that… damn pink dress.”
He swallowed, kissing your skin before his palms grabbed your waist, pushing you more onto his lap and keeping you grinding on him.
„…and all i could thing about in my awful, dirty, perverted head was pulling it up and burying myself so, so, so deep inside of you.” He panted, slightly reaching down to undo his pants.
You chuckled breathlessly, looking down at him and grabbing his hair, forcing his head back a bit.
„you’re a pervert.” You smiled, lifting yourself up so he could push his pants down easily. You looked down, and there he was. Big and beautiful, with a pink head and pre cum pearl dribbling at the slit.
He breathed heavily, looking up at you, before pushing you onto your back, crawling on top with his cock hanging between you two. The heat was almost radiating off of his body at this point.
„I am. I thought we knew that already.” He smiled, kissing down your chest and stomach. „i’m your pervert.”
His hands slid down your soft skin as he kissed down, rough fingers sliding on the warm silk of your flesh. A squeeze there, a caress there.
His fingers slid into the sides of your shorts and tugged them down harshly, before parting your legs with his palms.
He groaned at the very sight. This was all of his teenage fantasies before of his eyes, your puffy, pink pussy dripping wet right in front of his face.
„I imagined you a lot.” He smiled, pushing your legs open even wider. „I wanted to taste this sweet pussy for years.” He breathed, kissing your thighs, squeezing the plush.
You smiled, looking down at him and adjusting your hips slowly, feeling his warm, wet lips against your thighs.
„I want you to ride my face. Please?” He asked, looking up at you. His shoulders square and wide as his biceps wrapped around your calves, keeping you open.
Your heart almost skipped a beat or two. Riding his face? Good lord, this man was so hot it was unfair.
„Lay back.” You murmured.
And there was the overeager puppy again. He stumbled to his feet, shrugging his pants off entirely and now remaining blissfully naked like the day he was born.
He laid down on his back comfortably, hoisting you up to straddle his chest, before gently coaxing you forward, letting your thighs settle around his head.
„ohhh, fuck yes.” He groaned, immediately grabbing your hips and slamming you back down, his nose pressed against your clit as his mouth sucked your whole pussy into his mouth.
Your eyes shot open immediately and his tongue dragged a loud, strangled moan from your throat. You fell forward a bit, catching yourself on a wall.
You looked down, seeing his eyes closed as he worked his mouth between your legs. His hands held your thighs to keep them from closing on his face.
„you taste so good, fuck—„ he breathed between licks, his hands sliding to your hips, forcing you to move back and forth. „come on, don’t be shy now.”
His voice alone made your jaw go slack and open. Your eyes closed as your hips moved slowly, relishing the sounds of his moans and whimpers as he ate you out.
That’s an enthusiast, for sure.
And he knew what he was doing. The sounds he made, slurpy and disgusting, filled the room in seconds, followed by your moans and squirms.
„ah ah, don’t squirm away from me, pretty lady.” He smiled against you, rubbing his flat tongue on your clit, before sucking it into his mouth.
You liked it, fuck, you loved how he had his mouth full of work and still talked. He was always fucking talking.
„there we go… good girl, good girl…” He panted, squeezing your ass and pulling it open, his tongue working faster and more smoothly.
You actively started to forget how to form sentences. Your head was thrown back, hips rocking back and forth on his face. Then you heard slick sounds through all of the haze.
You slowly looked over your shoulder, keeping the motions of your hips steady, seeing his big hand wrapped around his cock, his pointer finger lifted as he stroked.
You smiled, then looked back down at his face.
„you can’t keep yourself back, huh?” You smiled, leaning back a bit.
„I can’t.” He breathed, his eyes heavy lidded as he continued feasting between your legs. „you’re a goddess.” He said, dragging you back onto his face.
You chuckled and moaned, your back tensing and bowing slightly, and you forced yourself out of his grip, sliding off of his face and sitting on his thighs.
„Oh, come on.” He groaned, looking up at you. He looked pathetic, his cheeks flushed, hair messy and lips wet and sticky. His own saliva coated his chin and dripped down his neck.
You smiled, watching him sit back against the headboard of the cheap motel bed, his hands on your hips coaxing you with him.
„what? Disappointed?” You smiled, replacing his hand on his cock with your own, squeezing the firm flesh.
He groaned, his eyes fluttered closed. His jaw was set tight as they opened once again, focusing on your pretty face so close to his own. He loved this game too much.
„Very.” He said, his hands squeezing whatever he could. „wanted to make you cum so bad.”
You smiled, pressing your lips to his in a slow, steady kiss before pulling back a breath just to speak.
„i’d rather cum on your cock.” You murmured, looking down and then at his face, watching as his jaw clicked into place. Out of pure desperation.
His eyes were full of fire. You had never seen Dean in this state before, so unguarded and sensitive to everything. But god, you loved it more than you probably should have.
„I don’t have condoms on me.” He whispered, looking at you. You just tilted your head to the side.
„i don’t believe you.” You whispered. Your eyes slowly dragged down his body, looking at his glistening skin and tensed muscles.
„…then we will go without one.” You shrugged, already gently guiding him to your slick entrance, rubbing his thick head against it.
He choked out a throaty moan, his eyes squeezed shut. He was shaking, his fingers digging into the plush of your waist hard enough to leave marks tomorrow.
„I—„ He swallowed, blinking slowly to calm down. „i’ll knock you up.” He whispered, not even trying to hide how desperate he was to finish inside.
You looked at his eyes, seeing that he was insanely serious about this. A grin bloomed on your face, his desperation amusing to you.
„You’ll pull out.” You said.
His hands stopped you entirely from pushing yourself down onto him. No matter how much he ached to bury himself in that delicious, wet heat he had been dreaming about since he was twenty, he knew how this would end.
„no.” He whispered, looking down at your lips the whole time. „i won’t.”
Your lips pressed into a thin line, then parted as you licked them. He looked so fucking hot like this — so desperate and serious.
„You don’t understand.” He whispered, lifting him slightly and making his hard cock tilting slightly towards his stomach. „when i get inside, i’ll fuck until i can’t breathe. I’m serious.” He said.
You looked at him in silence for a moment, before grinning like a shitface.
„i’m playing with you. I’m on pills.” You smiled, pressing your lips to his in a messy, desperate kiss.
„Cum how much you wa—„ you tried to say, but he slammed himself inside and cut you off halfway through your sentence.
It made both of you groan in satisfaction. He was buried balls deep in your tight heat, and he felt like he was on top of the whole world.
„Feels good? Does my cock satisfy?” He whispered into your ear, rubbing your back slowly, his hips slightly, barely, pushing up.
You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. You just nodded, fingers digging into his biceps as your hips started moving on their own, dragging back and forth.
He smiled, delivering a soft smack to one of your ass cheeks, encouraging.
„That’s it.” He breathed, keeping you close with one arm and helping you move with the other one.
His cock had that delicious stretch to it, the one that kept you feeling full but not overwhelmed. He was big, really, and definitely had an idea what he was doing.
He met your hip rolls with small circles of his hips, his fingers running down your arms almost like feathers.
„Look at you… i always knew you’d be such a good cowgirl.”
The words made your heart leap in your chest. You sat back and looked at him as he laid against the headboard, your lips close.
„Am I a good cowgirl?” You smiled.
The rythm changed as he started to slowly push up with each thrust, the motel bed cracking beneath every move they made.
Your hand slid to the side of his face, her thumb brushed his bottom lip, coaxing his beautiful, plump lips open.
Your thumb slowly slipped into his warm mouth. He sucked softly, his tongue wrapped around it gently. He smiled around it with it between his perfect teeth.
The sight turned you on even more, and you were certain you were dripping down his balls right now. The speed increased slightly, but barely.
„you’re so beautiful.” You breathed, sliding your thumb out and replacing it with two fingers, sliding them deep into his mouth, almost making him gag.
But he sucked, eager and happy to even be inside of you right now. One of his hands held your wrist as the second helped your body move on his lap.
Your eyes zeroed on his lips wrapped around your fingers, before you slipped them out and reached down to slowly, methodically circle your clit.
He smiled, following the path of your fingers down between your legs. He breathed out, laying his head back and just watching you bounce.
You smiled, looking down and continuing to touch yourself as you fucked yourself dumb on his dick. It was a damn sight, that’s for sure.
The heat was getting hotter and hotter with every bounce. He was already close, and so were you. You both already drove each other close before this, but fucking never could even touch anything before that.
„I’m close.” He groaned first, but you knew you were just as close. The movements sped up a bit, your hands on his shoulders, holding for dear life.
Your head threw back uncontrollably as the first wave of your orgasm hit. His fingers slipped between your legs and rubbed your clit, making it impossible not to shake even more.
The orgasm hit, and before you could even whine you felt the warmth and stickiness of him spill deep inside of you. It made you both tense and finish mutually, making you both slump back slightly.
You panted for a while, struggling to catch your breath. But before you could fully recover, you got thrown onto your back.
„Oh, now you can’t run.” He smiled, throwing your legs over his shoulders, your ankles right at his shoulders. He sealed his mouth with yours.
It punched a moan from you. He was literally folding you in half, his hands holding your legs at the knees, keeping you open and nice for him.
„you’re so tight after you come.” He whispered into your ear, pushing in as deep as he could, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix.
It made starts blow behind your eyes every time he bullied himself as deep as he could. Your hands clutched at his back, every thrust dragging a whine out of you.
„Dean—„ you gasped, back arching, already feeling close again. His hand slipped between you and circled your clit.
„oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—„ you whined, a groan sliding out of your mouth as he found every spot inside that made you squirm. And his fingers on your clit? Game over.
„I know, baby, I know, shh…” He whispered, his hand rubbing your head as he pressed his cheek to your temple, pushing himself as deep inside as he could.
He was using all of his strength, his muscles bulged and throat raw from groaning. His biceps bracketed your head, hips punching punishingly, but slowly.
„I- ca-n’t—„ You whined, actually feeling as if your nails were starting to draw blood on his back. And they were. A small droplet of blood dripped down his tanned skin.
He groaned in pain and pleasure, delivering some short, hollow thrusts before a couple of final ones, dragging all the way out before pushing all the way in, making you come again.
„There we go.” He smiled, slowly pulling your legs off of his shoulders, letting them drop down. He slowly pulled back, watching his cock slip out of you. He was half hard, slowly getting softer.
He rubbed your belly gently, pressing on it slightly and watching his cum drip down out of you. He smiled and gathered it with his fingers slowly, before bringing it to your lips.
„come on, open.” he whispered.
Your lips parted on command, and he shoved his fingers into your mouth. The salt and sweetness exploded on your tongue, tasting yourself and him mixed together.
„Good?” He asked, slowly rubbing your clit, prolonging the orgasm.
You breathed, your hips running away from his hand.
„yeah.” You smiled, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. „we’re definitely doing this again.”
He smiled and grabbed your waist, slightly adjusting himself, kissing you deeper.
„Yes, please.” He whispered
I kinda need him to put me in that damn mating press and fold me in half btw.
Also! Thanks for the activity on my page! almost 1k likes on that Clark Kent one! Insane!❤️❤️
