Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
β¦summary: dean kisses you while he's drunk, and then the world keeps spinning. all you want to do is figure out if he remembers, if he meant it, and if he feels what you do in return. but he's not making it easy, until he does.β¦
β¦warnings/tags: Dean Winchester x female!reader, no use of y/n, no description of reader, age gap (20s - 40s), angst, overprotective dean, older dean, pining, dean being a stupid, lovable dork, some plot to get to the smut (dry humping, dean's dirty talk, car sex, praise kink, soft!dom Dean, fingering, begging, handjobs, nipple play, pussy slapping, fingering, mating press sex, creampie, big dick dean, overstimulation, body worship, dumbification, light dacryphilia, finger sucking, squirting), love confessions, fluffβ¦
β¦wc: 11kβ¦
β¦author's note: every week i overtake myself for 'horniest thing i've ever made'. enjoy!β¦
You donβt know what happened. Youβre too afraid to ask.
You donβt want to live in a world where it gets taken back.
Dean isnβt acting like anything happened. Heβs not draping himself around you or acting like youβre not there at all. Thereβs no slobbering man at your feet, acting like the ground you walk on turns to gold, but youβre also not curled up on the curb because Dean wonβt look at you, and you canβt stand to be in room where he acts like youβre gum under his shoe.
Youβve always understood that as how this would go. How your little infatuation would end.Β
Either a miracle would hit like lightning, and Dean would return your feelings. Or heβd reject you, and never look you in the eyes again.
The data was leaning in favor of the former. Which is why youβve been so very careful not to reveal your feelings under any circumstances. Witches have gaped about your sheer willpower. Samβs made passing comments about never seeing someone who could fight demonic possession so well. Everyone around you seems to think youβre some kind of mind Titan, able to simply focus and drive off any monster or force that tries to take you over.
They donβt know that thereβs always on common factor. One thing that they try to force you to reveal, that makes you pry your mind back from their bare hands.
When you got possessed by a demon, Sam and Dean had you tied to a chair. Youβd still been able to see through your own eyes. Still been able to think, even if the demon had been using your internal monologue as a broadcast public radio, sharing every thought you had the mistake of thinking.
βAw.β Sheβd used your mouth, you voice, and it had sounded twisted in your brain. βSheβs worried about you two. Isnβt that adorable.β
Sam had frowned, shooting Dean a weary look. βIs there something we need to be worried about? Or-β Heβd said your name gently. βIf youβre worried we canβt take this demon, we can.β
βShe batting out of her league.β Dean had muttered, glaring down at the knife in his hands. βWeβve tangoed with the bosses and come out on top, sweetheart. No one needs to be worried but the bitch inside you.β
Whatever parts of your heart were still yoursβmost of it, as the demon had been able to sink her claws into everything but the organ that only played one, embarrassingly loud songβhad fluttered at his words. He hadnβt been looking at you since they realized you were possessed. Sam had been doing all the talking, asking questions and trying to figure out what the demon wanted, how long sheβd been in your brain. Dean had just sat on the edge of the mattress, fists curled on his knees, jaw clenched so tight you were worried about his teeth. If you were in control of yourself you wouldβve told him to stop doing that. It made his headaches worse, and you bought him gum specifically so he could chew on something when he got pissed.
He wouldβve smile to himself, shaking his head, and given you the look that always made your knees wobble. The one that had a silent affection behind it, that came with his hand grazing your lower back and teasing about how bossy you were.
Youβd think I was dying, way you talk about my health.
Iβm trying to avoid you dying, Dean-
Why? Happens to everyone eventually, and Iβm further down the line than I thought Iβd be-
Youβre not a dinosaur. Stop talking like Iβm putting you in a home, I just told you to drink some water.
If I drink some water, are you gonna stop circling me like a freakinβ shark?
I am not circling you like a shark-
Yeah, you are. You wanna take a bite outta me, sweetheart, I can see it.
Youβd always blink at him, your heart in your ears and your jaw slack. Heβd grin, drink his water slowly and dramatically, then boop the bottle on your nose and walk away. When youβd tell him to do something later, heβd roll his eyes and give you that look again.
That was how they figured out you were possessed. The demon had asked Dean to grab the artifact youβd been investigating, and when heβd whined that he wanted to go get pie, sheβd smiled and said that was fine, as long as Dean told her where the artifact was first.
You wouldβve told Dean that he could have his pie after he grabbed the artifact. You wouldβve stood in front of him with your arms crossed and glared until he got up with a groan and let you drag him exactly where you needed him to be. Thatβs what you and Dean did. He pretended to be annoyed by it, but you wouldnβt ask anything of him unless you really needed it. You got him the pie after, and he teased you about being wound up and needing to breathe for a second. Heβd feed you some of his pie like you were a baby, and youβd pretend to bite his fingers off.
But the demon had just bent for him. Dean had stared at her. And youβd know heβd seen it. Right through you, and to the ugly thing inside your body.
Ugly in a different way that you were. The demon was just cruel, but you were selfish.Β
Dean had told you not to go out alone, but you loved him and heβd been sitting so close. The love inside you had been threatening to pour out of you like a flood, and youβd needed to be anywhere but near him. The demon had found you while you were at the convenience store, buying Dean jerky. Youβd been too slow, and now you were a burden to him and Sam again. Dean had been forced to knock you out to tie up the demon, and Sam had to burn you with holy water. You could feel it, the burn and blistering of you skin. Youβd never tell them that, because the guilt would eat them alive.
Youβd never tell Dean. He was already angry with you for going out as it was. Youβre already more trouble than youβre worth, most of the time. Your worry hadnβt been for you.
Itβs for him. That this was going to be too much for him to deal with, having to hurt another person he cared about.
The demon had plucked that thought from your head, and curved your lips into a smirk.
βOh, sheβs not worried about herself, Deanie.β It had drawled. βI know you see her as a woman of steel, but our lovely girl is just so sweet on the insides here. Itβs like swimming through marshmallows. Sheβs just so perfectly worried about how this is going to effect you. Itβs all she can think about, the pathetic little slut.β
Deanβs eyes had narrowed. βDonβt fuckinβ talk about her like that-β
βIβll talk about her however I want.β The demon had purred. βSheβs my meat toy. But if you want to share with me, Winchester, Iβm sure she wouldnβt mind both of us inside of her. She-β
The demon had cut herself off. Dean had shot to his feet, looking ready to throw a punch. Sam had blocked him with an arm, and your body had started to convulse. The demon sputtering and choking on nothing as Dean shouted your name. Sam had let him get to you when it became clear this wasnβt the demon making a play, but you hadnβt needed the help.
Sheβd made her mistake already. Youβd been able to feel her next words, building on your own tongue. Sheβd been sneering in your brain about how Dean would hate you after she revealed the truth, and youβd grabbed her by the throat.
Youβd pushed her out of your body, no exorcism required. Sam and Dean had stared at you in awe for about a month after. Sam had even pulled you aside and lowly asked how you did it. Youβd told him you had no idea.
It wouldβve been insane, to say well, Samuel. It was the power of my love for your brother.Β Donβt tell him, or Iβll fucking kill you.
You wouldβve been serious about that threat, too. You never wanted Dean to know. If Sam had ever found out and told him, there wouldβve been a double murder suicide.
Which is why you donβt know what to do now.
Because Dean kissed you, and the world didnβt end.
Paradise didnβt come. Hell didnβt split through the Earth, and you didnβt have to go into hiding in Romaniaβyour backup plan if Dean had ever found out and it wasnβt Samβs fault.
The Earth had just kept spinning. Dean had gotten up the next morning and acted like nothing happened at all. Grumbling about his hangover and running a hand through his mussed hair. The same hand that had held the back of your neck last night, certain and possessive in his grip. Dean licked his lips, and youβd mirrored the motion, only able to think of that same tongue pressing into your mouth. β
Heβd kissed you like he knew what he wanted. Heβd tasted like whiskey and had a glazed expressionβas if he was looking at the world through glassβbut heβd kissed you. Heβd lifted you off the ground with the force of it. Heβd looked at you with blown out eyes, and been half-hard in his jeans, and begged you to come back to his room, and-
βYou alright?β Dean asks, and you blink at him.
βMe?β
βYeah, you.β His lips twitch. βYou look like you spent the night getting run over by a truck.β
You frown, and Dean pauses.
βIn a good way.β
βI look like I got run over by a truck in a good way?β
βUh- Yeah?β He smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. βI mean, Iβm not sayinβ you look bad. Youβre just all spacey and tired, and-β
He waves a hand at you sheepishly, and normally youβd keep pushing him for how exactly you could be run over by a truck in a good way.
But today, you can only look at his dumb, handsome face and think about how his stubble brushed over your skin. How your noses bumped, how heβd help you to his chest like you were a doll and he was a worried child that needed you.
βI didnβt sleep well last night.β You mutter, and Dean chuckles.
βMe neither.β
βYou got drunk.β You say, flat and low. βYou passed out.β
βYeah, but I had some dreams, and-β He cuts himself off, eyes widening and grip on his mug slipping. He catches it with a curse, and looks at you like heβs seeing a ghost.
You raise your brow, not letting any emotion onto your face. Dean clears his throat, eyes dropping for the briefest second to your lips.
βHey, uh-β He runs a hand through his hair, shifting nervously on his feet. βIf I did anything stupid while I was wasted, youβd tell me. Right?β
And maybe you should tell him. But he looks so worried, and you know, deep down.
He doesnβt really remember.Β Β
βYeah.β You breathe, offering him a tiny smile. βI would.β
Deanβs silent. He studies you for a second, then shakes his head with a laugh. βGood. βCause I get some, uh- Some crazy dreams.β
You pretend to laugh, but it echoes in the hollow of your chest until you feel sick. You have to excuse yourself to take a shower. To help you wake up, is what you tell Dean.
Really, you just sit on the floor and cry, letting your tears wash down the drain with the water. He doesnβt remember. He kissed you, and heβs chalking it up to a crazy dream.
You have to get over him. Itβs a punch in your gut, knocking wind and snot out of you, but itβs what you needed. Deanβs never going to see you like that. Heβs older, heβs a hero, he could have anyone he wanted and heβs not going to chose the bossy girl who watches cartoons with him and makes him do bar trivia with her, because heβs better than he thinks he is. Heβll find someone cooler and older. Someone who likes cars as much as he does, who can actually help him with the Impala instead of just sitting on the bench in the garage and bothering him. Someone who can cook as well as he does, and doesnβt make him try all the crazy soda flavors she sees.
Someone just as resolved and perfect as he is.
Not you.
You pick yourself up, and try to set a goal. Get over Dean.
The asshole doesnβt make it easy.
He makes it impossible.
βIβm gonna work on Baby this afternoon.β He says, and you hum. Youβre curled up on the couch with your laptop, and heβs been leaning over your shoulder for the past hour, watching whatever you put on the screen. You donβt understand why. Heβs got his own TV right in front of him, and he has to put his arm around your shoulders to comfortably be so close.
His fingers keep brushing the bare skin of your collarbone. His warmth is wrapped around you like a blanket, and itβs all impossible to deal with.
βI bought those snacks you like.β He adds, and you hum.
βOkay.β
βTheyβre gonna be with me. In the garage.β
Β βIβll come get them later.β
Deanβs face twitches. You look over to find him staring at you, nostrils flaring and nose slightly wrinkled.
βPut it in the freezer.β You manage to whisper, and he shakes his head.
βToo far. Gotta focus on work.β
βIβm going to distract you from work-β
βThatβs different.β He shrugs, and suddenly youβre being pulled to your feet.
βDean-β
βCβmon.β He moves you in front ofΒ him, and all but herds you out of the Dean Cave. βIβll even let you pick the music, alright?β
You canβt argue with him. Heβs too cute, and always has a command over your body youβve never been able to fight off. He doesnβt even know that if he asked you to walk over hot coals, youβd do it to reach his side. If he wanted to get away youβd drop everything and go with him. If he needed you to bring him the moon, youβd learn to grow taller enough to grab it in your hands, and shred yourself back down to stay at his side.
Thereβs no way you can get over him while being his friend. Being his friend alone is a trial thatβs slowly wearing you down. Enough that soon, you think, youβll just be crawling on your hands to lay at his feet. Itβs all youβre going to be able to muster. All youβre going to want to do.
You need to get away from him.
You canβt get away from him. Because if he asks you to do something with himβwhich he always doesβthereβs no way youβre going to be able to say no.
Which leaves one solution.
Avoid Dean.
Avoid him like heβs the plague.
You wake up in the morning, and touch your lips. Touch them like you can push the feeling of his kiss further into them. Like itβs a sugar that you could gather on your fingers and taste, a tattoo youβre trying to make sure is permanent. You do it every morning now, because itβs the last thing of Dean youβre allowing yourself to have.
If youβre careful, you donβt see him through the day. Youβre up before he is, you find a corner of the bunker to hide in, you go out, you stay on the move like youβre prey and Deanβs on a hunt. When you see Sam, he gives you an odd look. If youβre sloppy, and end up in the same room as Dean, you flee before he can say something. If he says something youβre going to crash right back into him. Heβs gravity. And you donβt have the strength to pull away twice.
But itβs not working.
You havenβt been alone with Dean for a week, and you just miss him. You feel like youβre trying to carve out a vital artery from your chest. It just hurts. It just makes your love spill all over you, now that thereβs nowhere for it to go. You watch something on your computer and hug yourself, because your body seems to think itβs missing a limb without Dean wrapped around you. You sneak out in the middle of the night to get food, and end up just staring at the pie and jerky and beer until youβre sick. Youβve started to hole up in your room with ice cream as if youβre going through a breakup.
Itβs pathetic. You look in the mirror and see a husk, with tear stained cheeks and sunken features. Youβre wearing one of his fucking shirts, but your skin burns every time you think about taking it off. Youβd think you were cursed, if you didnβt know this was just the feeling of love dying.
Not dying.
Youβre not strong enough to kill it.
This is the feeling of love being tortured.
Because youβre stupid and tired, you look up how to get over a crush. The internet says to list out all his faults, and logically you know Dean has those, but you canβt remember any right now. His teasing always makes you flush and giggle, his stupid jokes make everything feel lighter, you know he gets angry because he cares. You even miss the loud, sloppy way he chews. Youβd always been able to reach over the table and wipe sauce from his cheek, and heβd smile at you after, and you miss his smile. Youβd do anything to see it right now.
You scroll to the next step. Think about it logically. If theyβd even be a good match. You skip that one. Deanβs always been the one thing you donβt bother to think about logically. Something about him makes all the common sense in your head go down the drain. Which is the same issue the next stepβask yourself why you have a crush on themβfails as well. Of course you have a crush on Dean. You could list out every reason, but theyβd all just circle back to heβs Dean. And everything that he is demands that you love him.
Force yourself to move on, is the final step. Go out with someone else. Even if theyβre not your soulmate, it will help you realize there are plenty of other fish in the sea.
There are many other fish. The world is filled with men.
Thatβs part of the problem.
None of them are Dean Winchester.
But this is the most actionable step. The only one you can try to take, even if it doesnβt work. So you get cleaned up, put on a nice dress, and do your makeup a little bit like a slut. The goal of this is to get laid, through, and itβs not like anyone you know is going to see-
βWhere the hell are you going?β
You freeze, squeezing your eyes shut. Heβs up. Why the fuck is he up. βNowhere?β
βYouβre going nowhere.β Dean drawls. βAt eleven. Dressed likeβ¦ That.β
βMhm.β You turn slowly, trying to offer a winning smile.
He doesnβt look amused.
You havenβt seen him in person in a month. He kind of looksβ¦ awful.
Heβs still handsome. You donβt think heβs capable of being anything else but amazing and desirable. But his hair is longer than he usually lets it grow, and there are heavy bags under his eyes. His shoulders are hunched, thereβs a stain on his flannel, and when he rubs his jaw you can see grease stains on his hands. Β Β
βWere you in the garage?β You blurt, and he grunts.
βMaybe.β
βBut-β His gaze is lidded, his features pale in a way that only happens when heβs awake for too long. βHave you slept?β
His brow furrows. βNapped.β
βFor how long.β
βLong enough.β
βThatβs not an answer-β
βWhere are you going.β He raises his voice over yours, and you swallow.
βOut.β
βOut where.β
You look down at your heels, fidgeting with the folds of your dress. βTo a bar.β
Dean doesnβt respond. You canβt bring yourself to look at him, but you think you might be leaning forward. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. You havenβt even been able to build up a flimsy wall against your feelings, and now theyβre all crashing through you like an asteroid, slamming through your world.
Heβs right there, and if you took a step forward youβd be able to touch him. Wipe the grease off his hands, pull off the flannel and order him to change into something clean. He needs a haircut, but you kind of like it longer. You could run your fingers through it, like this. Soothe the spots where itβs sticking out, help him wash it if heβd let you.
But you donβt think he will.
Because when you look up under your lashes, heβs staring at you with a pained, exhausted expression that makes you want to cry.
βYou goinβ to meet someone?β He finally says, and you shake your head.
βN- No.β
βWe got drinks here-β
βI know.β
He grunts. βItβs not safe for you to be out by yourself.β
βIβm bringing pepper spray.β You mumble. βAnd my gun.β
Deanβs silent for a long moment, and you think heβs going to give up and walk away. Everything will be easier, if he just leaves for you. It will splatter your heart all over the floor, but at least you wonβt have the weight of holding onto it anymore. At least it wonβt churn like something rotten, when a stranger who isnβt Dean lays his hands all over you.
But Dean doesnβt leave.
He takes a step forward, and suddenly the air is so hot itβs hard to breathe.
βIβm goinβ with you.β
Your head shoots up, eyes wide. βDean-β
βYou said youβre not meetinβ anyone.β He challenges, glaring down at you. βI need a drink. You come with me, or you donβt go at all.β
A scoff slips from your lips. βAnd how the fuck would you stop me-β
βIβd toss you over my shoulder and carry you back to your room.β
Oh.
He says it so casually. His voice a deep rumble as he stares at you. An ache demands attention between your thighs, and your cheeks burn as you laugh nervously, looking to the side.
Dean doesnβt even crack a grin.
So thereβs nothing you can do, but let him walk with you to the car. You try to get in the backseat, but Dean snaps his fingers and points at shotgun with a scowl.
βIβm not a fuckinβ taxi. You sit up here, or we walk.β
You flush, and silently slide into the front bench. Dean drops behind the wheel, his gaze fixed firmly ahead as he starts the engine. You forgot how dangerous being close to him is. Heβd grabbed his coat on the way out, tossing his dirty flannel to the side. He smells like leather and pine tree, and even across the bench you can feel the heat radiating from his body. He rolls up his sleeves, and you want to nuzzle close to him and have him put you in a headlock. His hand runs over his inner thigh, and you press your own together.
Youβre staring at him. You canβt help it.
Dean must feel it, because he shoots you a look from the corner of his eye. You look away, and hear him let out a heavy breath.
And the game begins. Dean pulls out of the garage, and youβre both perfectly silent, daring the other to break first. You stare out the window, stealing glances whenever you think you can get away with it. Sometimes Dean catches your eye, and you curl further into yourself, twisting away. Once, Dean opens his mouth. He closes it just as fast.
Youβve been driving for thirty minutes, when you realize heβs not taking you to a bar. Youβve passed three bars, and he didnβt even slow down to check them out. You grab all the thin courage you posses, rooted deep in your stomach and sticky with nerves, and drag it to the surface.
βDean, where are we-β
βYouβve been ignoring me.β He says, blatant and flat. βPast month. Donβt think I havenβt fuckinβ noticed.β
You swallow, pulling your knees to your chest. βI- I donβt-β
βDidnβt even say why.β He mutters, tapping his fingers on the wheel. βThought you were sick at first, but youβve been talkinβ to Sammy.β
βItβs-β
βAnd you run outta every room I walk into. Like I got cooties or something.β Heβs scowling at the road, and you feel like the smallest thing in the world. βDidnβt even bother to tell me why. Justβ¦ Fuckinβ vanished.β
Thereβs a lump in your throat, and unearned tears stinging at your eyes. He sounds broken, and itβs your fault. You and your stupid, useless love for him. βDean, itβs not like that-β
βSo whatβs it like, huh?β His words are harsh. You flinch back. βYou start acting like Iβm the goddamn devil and Iβm supposed to take your word that itβs just not like that? There ainβt anything for it to be like, sweetheart-β
βNo, I- I just-β You lean forward, then curl back. Youβd wanted to grab him. You donβt think youβre allowed. βI just needed- I needed-β
βSpace?β He spits the word like itβs poison. βGo on. Tell me you just needed space from me.β
βDean-β
βThe hell did I do to you?β He sneers. βI know I ainβt perfect, but I- I thought you- I was so fuckinβ careful, and you promised youβd tell me if I did something stupid.β
You frown, not fully understanding what he means. βDean, you- You didnβt do anything-β
βDonβt bullshit me!β He shouts, and you donβt think you can breathe anymore. βYou promised me, you said youβd tell me, and the goddamn least you coulda done was tell me what the fuck I did-β
βPlease- Please stop yelling.β You whisper, not even sure if heβs going to hear you.
But he does.
Dean cuts himself off with that clench of his jaw, and pulls over to the side of the road. You hug yourself tight, trying to shrink back into the seats. This is your fault. Heβs angry because of you, and you stupidity. Youβre barely a schoolgirl with a crush, and you let it hurt him, and thereβs no possible world where heβd ever want you now.
You hide your face in your knees. Tears burn on your cheeks, and when you try to take a deep breath, itβs ragged and aching.
Deanβs silent. The whole car is silent. Heβd turned off the radio, and the only sound hanging in the air is your sniffling. You think about climbing out of the car, but heβd just chase after you. Itβs started to rain, and you donβt want him to catch a cold.
You wrap your coat tighter around you. Your dress feels too tight on your skin. Feels wrong. You think youβre going to be sick. When you risk a look at Dean, heβs still holding the wheel with white knuckles. Staring at you with a pained expression, eyes even heavier than before.
He leans forward like heβs going to reach for you. Your breath hitches. He pulls back.
For a second, you just watch each other. You wipe your cheeks with your palm, and it feels like a raw, open wound.
Dean opens his mouth. Closes it, and looks back to the road like heβs searching for something.
βIβm- I didnβt mean to yell.β He mutters, voice hoarse. βI just- Iβm sorry.β
You nodβyou didnβt blame himΒ in the first placeβbut when he looks to you for a response, you canβt find one. Everything is lodged in your throat, behind a quiet confession youβve worked far too hard to shove down.
βIβll fix it.β Dean rasps, and you blink.
βWhat?β
βWhatever I did.β Heβs staring at you, his voice cracking. βWhatever pissed you off or- Or hurt you. Iβll work on it, alright? You donβt have to do anything, Iβll fix me, and then you can stay.β
βI- I can stay?β
He nods, squeezing his eyes shut. As if the words hurt to stay. βIf you canβt, I get it. I do. But you gotta give me a chance to set it right, before you give up. Just one chance, and if I screw it up a second time you can run off, but- One shot, itβs all I need. Donβt- Donβt leave.β His voice cracks, eyes shining in the dark. βPlease.β
You stare at him, mouth hanging open. He looks broken. Lone tears stain his cheeks, and heβs not even wiping them away. When you shake your headβjust trying to make sense of what he saidβhe cowers away like a kicked dog, and you split down the middle.
βI wasnβt going to leave, Dean.β Horror leaks through your voice. You couldnβt leave him if you tried. βIβd never leave you.β
He laughs dryly. βYeah, like I didnβt just fuckinβ catch you-β
βI was going to the bar.β
βWithout telling anyone?β
βNo, because I knew youβd try to do this!β You wave around you, and Deanβs throat bobs. βNo, I didnβt mean-β
βYou didnβt wanna see me.β He mutters, looking back to the wheel. ββS alright. I get it.β
He doesnβt. He really doesnβt. And you can see him trying to drag himself back together, still refusing to wipe his tears and breathing through his nose. Heβs just sitting there, hollow and angry, and he doesnβt understand.
βYou kissed me.β
You say it without thinking, soft and weak. Dean goes rigid. He looks at you with bloodless, horrified features. You wrap your hand around your own throat, trying to hold yourself in one piece.
He shakes his head. Youβre going to throw up.
βNo, I- Iβd remember that-β
βYou were drunk.β You breathe. βI- I picked you up from the bar. And you kissed me.β
Dean looks like someone punched him in the face. Heβs pallid, looking around the car like thereβs a way out, fisting and unfisting his hands.
βThatβs- Thatβs why youβve been avoiding me.β He rasps, and you nod, fixing your gaze on his chest.
If you have to watch his face while he rejects you, thereβs a chance youβll just die.
Dean says your name, slow and broken, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Bracing for the knife about to be driven into your chest.
βIβm so fuckinβ sorry.β
That makes you look up. And itβs not rejection you find in Deanβs eyes.
Itβs guilt.
βI shouldnβt have kissed you, and- Being drunkβs no damn excuse.β
βDean-β
βIf you want nothing to do with me, I- I understand.β Heβs too lost in himself to hear you. βHell, Iβll move out so you can stick with Sammy. You wonβt have to deal with me anymore, youβre- Itβs not your fault-β
βDean-β
βI shouldnβt have forced you on that, my own- My own shit is mine to deal with, and you never gave me any kinda go and I damn well knew it- Iβm so fuckinβ sorry-β
βDean!β You shout, and he falls silent. Squeezes his jaw shut, gaze mournful and completely shattered.
Youβre not entirety sure whatβs happening. You say the only thing you can think.
βStop grinding your teeth.β
Dean blinks, but his jaw loosens. He mutters your name, and you shake your head. You donβt think you can stand another apology.
βI- Iβm not mad about you kissing me.β You whisper, and he snorts, empty and humorless.
βItβs not your job to make me feel better about hurting you, sweetheart-β
βYou didnβt hurt me.β You snap, and Dean stills completely.
He opens his mouth, but youβre faster. Flushing furiously and too tired to fight the words.
βI- I liked it.β You whisper. βA lot.β
Dean sits a little taller, words low and cautious. βYou didnβt tell me in the morning. Why wouldnβt you tell me, if-β
βYou were drunk. I- I thought-β You take a deep breath, face burning with shame. βI thought you didnβt mean it.β
βAh.β Heβs silent for a moment. βBut- Why the hell would you avoid me-β
βI kissed you back.β
βDid you mean it?β
His question feels like the barrel of a gun, loaded and pressed to your temple. You nod weakly. Dean lets out a sharp breath, drumming his fingers on the wheel.
βYou thought I didnβt mean it.β He finally echoes, and you nod again. βSo you just-β
βThat hurt.β Tears are falling again. Everything blurring except for Dean. βThatβs the part that hurt, Dean, I just- I had to try and move on. And the internet said thatβs how you do it.β
βThe internet?β
βYeah.β You mumble, and Dean huffs a low laugh.
βSweetheart, why the hell would you check the internet for advice-β
βNone of my ideas were working.β You hiss. βAnd I- I didnβt like avoiding you, it felt really bad-β
βYou didnβt have to avoid me, you coulda just told me-β
βAnd you wouldβve what, confessed your love and kissed me again-β
βYeah!β He shouts, throwing his hands in the air. βI wouldβve, if youβd just fuckinβ told me!β
Your heart stops, for a full second. You donβt think you heard him right. βWhat?β You whisper, and Dean sighs.
βI meant it, okay?β He mutters, looking up to the sky. As if he was praying. βEverything I do with you, I mean it.β
βAnd- And the love-β
βI mean that too.β He gives you a sad, tired smile. βI know I shouldnβt. God knows I tried not to, youβre- Youβre young and you got a future and Iβm just me-β
βI love you.β You blurt, and Deanβs jaw falls. βI love you just likeβ¦ you. And-β You bow your head shyly. He wonβt stop staring. βIf you- If you feel something too-β
Dean moves before you can think.
One second youβre rambling, trying to figure out how to say it. The nextΒ his lips are pressed against yours, kissing you like heβll die if he doesnβt. Like youβll die.
You grab his wrist when he cups your face, he turns you to deepen the kiss, and youβre both moving like youβre trying to breathe the other in. Your nails dig into his skin and he grunts, the sound vibrating against you. You roll onto your knees, moving over him without breaking the kiss, and he grabs you by the waist. Tight enough to bruise. To leave a mark.
Itβs just a kiss. A hungry, hot kiss thatβs making your head spin. Itβs better than anyone else touching you. Better than being fucked, just because itβs Dean.
He picks you up, pulling you into his lap forcing you to straddle. You grab his shoulders for balance, letting out a sharp breath, and Dean chuckles. Sucks your lower lip with a tiny smirk, rubbing your hips as your finger brush the back of his neck. You let out a shuddering breath, sinking fully against his chest. One of his massive hands drags up your spine, callouses and teasing fingers dancing over bare skin and you arch, chasing the fuzzy, addictive sensation of Deanβs hands.
Your core presses against his bulge. Heβs hard, twitching inside his jeans. You roll your hips once, unable to stop yourself, and Dean hisses against your lips.
βCareful.βΒ
You donβt want to be careful. You want to be ruined. You grind down again, kissing him while you move, and he groans.
βHey- Woah-β He wraps his arm fully around your waist and pins you down. Forcing the outline of his cock against the thin panties youβd worn to go out.
Thereβs not a single regret in your head. You can feel him better like this. The thick curve, almost pushed between your pussy lips. Your underwear is bunched up, offering extra pressure, but Dean is holding you down so hard thereβs not even space to wiggle. You almost whine, pouting at him under wet, fluttering lashes.
He just stares up at you like a man whoβs lived underground his whole life, finally seeing the stars. You drag your nails down his chest, trying to spur him into action, but he just keeps staring. He even laughs under his breath, like somethingβs fucking funny.
You scowl, but donβt even get to provoke him before heβs rising back up.
Dean brushes hair from your face, and kisses you slowly. Sweetly. A confusing, sharp contrast to how his erection is angled right against your heat. Your body doesnβt seem to know what to do with it, and just settles for going limp with overwhelmed, happily dizzy confusion. Dean chuckles again. If your body could listen to any whims but his right now, youβd punch him in the face.
βStop laughing.β You manage to grumble, but that just makes him laugh again. βDean-β
βSorry.β He grins against your lips, rubbing your hips in soothing circles. βYouβre just- Youβre unbelievable.β
βYouβre unbelievable-β
βYouβre the most beautiful thing Iβve ever fuckinβ seen.β He mutters, dragging his hand up your side. As if heβs marveling in just the shape of you. βNever thought Iβd get to have you like this, and- Look at you.β He draws back, whistling with a smug smirk. βThey should let people touch the art, baby. You get even prettier.β
Thereβs nothing coherent you have to respond to that. Your brain is mostly a confusing garble of Dean and touch and more.
He kisses just under your jaw, and you gasp. Your eyes flutter as your head lolls to the side, and Dean chuckles.
βYou-β You bite back a moan as he sucks on a pulse point. βYouβre pretty too.β
βHm.β He nips at the sensitive skin, before flicking his tongue against the hurt. βPretty, huh.β
You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck until heβs almost in a headlock. Dean doesnβt seem to mind, moving onto another, somehow more sensitive spot. You try to move against his clothed dick, your pussy starting to throb, but heβs holding you too tight. Dean hums against your skin, and you moan, right in his ear. It makes his cock jump, and you almost cry from the fleeting offer of friction.
βCome- Come on-β You whine, wiggling uselessly in his arms. βYouβre being an asshole- Dean-β
He pushes his lips back over yours, right as he grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes. It loosens his grip, letting your hips freely move against him, but youβre so pent up from making out that you canβt even work out what you want to do. Youβre grabbing at his shirt and kissing him with spit and teeth, and heβs barely giving you anything in return.
βDean- Just-β You claw at his shirt. βOff, get it off-β
βThatβs not a very polite way to ask, sweetheart-β
βFuck you.β You breathe out, moaning when you get the thickest part of him to drag over your clit. βTake your shirt off, Dean, now-β
Β A strong hand wraps around your throat, pulling you back down into a mind numbing kiss. Youβre still fucking down onto his crotch, but their angle offers less pressure. You mightβve burst into tears, if it wasnβt for the magnitude of Deanβs attention. His hands all over your body, one fisted in your hair while the other started to map every inch of you he can reach.
βDe- Dean-β
βNot polite.β He mutters, kissing you between every word. βNot patient. What am I gonna do with you?β
Your heart stumbles, still a little bit bare from the fight and confused from the gentle way heβs suddenly touching you. No more grabbing or marking. Just soft, possessive but careful fingers, tracing your curves like heβs trying to memorize every inch.
βCan I tell you what Iβve wanted to do?β He rasps in your ear. βSince I first fuckinβ saw you?β
βYes.β You breath, trying to just feel him. His strength all around you, his voice rolling through your chest.
Deanβs words are deep and rough in your ear, and you cling to every one like gospel.
βIβve wanted to kiss you since before you even said your name. Wanted to fuck you when you stood in front of me and threatened to shoot if I didnβt back off and leave you be. Decided Iβd marry you when you called me a chicken butt βcause I told you to stay behind me. Then I thought I was insane, told myself I just needed to get laid. But I got laid. And you wanna know the only thing I could think about, the whole damn time?β
You nod, and Dean pulls back, dropping his brow tight against yours.
βYou.β He rasps. βClosed my eyes and saw you under me. Got kicked outta bed for calling your name, felt sick after βcause some stupid thing in my head kept telling me Iβd betrayed you. Then Sammy came and told me youβd be coming with us, and I knew I was a goner. If it wasnβt such a selfish freakinβ masochist I wouldβve told him that I didnβt want you around.β
Your lip wobbles. βYou didnβt want me-β
βI wanted you so much.β He grabs the back of your neck, the words a low growl. βDrove me out of my damn mind, how much I wanted you. Thought Iβd need to be put down, like one of those dogs that humps every damn thing it sees.β
βYou- You never-β
βWhat? Thought youβd be into something like me?β He laughs, and you frown.
You plant your hands, flat on his chest, and push up a little taller. Demanding he listen to every word you say.
βIβm into you.β You snap, and Deanβs sarcastic smile falters, slipping back into that awe. βDo you think thereβs something wrong with me?β
βNo.β He answers without thought. βYouβre perfect.β
Dean kisses you, slow and deliberate. Everything is suddenly controlled and delicate, like heβs weaving together a song.
You think youβre supposed to be the instrument. You donβt realize, though, until heβs already playing you as if youβre a toy.
Deanβs mouth trails down, leaving wet, open kisses over your neck and collarbone. The beard scrapes and tickles against you. You decide you like it. Heβs not allowed to shave later.
You shiver, moving your hands to rest on his stomach. His abdomen flexes under your fingers, and you start to grind back down onto his crotch. When you press further forward, you can get that perfect friction from before. The one you needed so bad you almost screamed. Dean nips at your throat and you pick up your pace.
He grunts, and lifts you up like you weigh nothing. You squirm like animal, even as he handles you well. Youβre moved backwards, your knees still knocked apart as Deanβs spreads his own legs. He pushes you back until your elbows are resting on the horn, and heat prickles over your skin when you realize the position heβs put you in.
Your barely clothed pussy, wet and on full display to Deanβs lust-blown expression. He traces over your inner thigh, teasing and teasing until youβre almost thrusting up to meet him.
βRemember what I said about patience?β He drawls, eyes sparkling on yours.
You just pant, making to grab his wrist and move it where you want. But heβs too strong, and you donβt even get a budge.
βI- Iβve been patient-β
Β βNah. Not enough. But,β he lifts up your skirt, exposing you further. βLook at her. Just begging for some attention.β
Dean presses a single knuckle against your pussy, running it up until it hits your clit, and your elbow slips. Babyβs horn startles you, making you almost scramble back over Dean, and he just laughs. Kisses you sweetly while you pant in his ear, even nipping under the lobe as you try to control your heartbeat.
βFuck- Fuck-β Your eyes roll back as you realize what happened.
Youβd trapped Deanβs hand between your bodies, and heβs taken full advantage of the situation. For every honeyed and light kiss he presses over your cheeks and lips, he rubs your pussy with light, deft touches. A graze of your clit, then his thumb teasing over your entrance. Itβs torture, the touches too light to do anything but make you feel insane, but youβre certain if you move away heβs just going to remove his hand altogether. Leaving you no other choice but to whimper, take it, and plead for mercy.
βMore- There-β You bury your face in Deanβs neck, when he rubs your clit back and forth in a frenzy, then simply moves away. βDean- I- I need to come, please, just, up- No-β
You tremble when he moves away again, humping against his hand. It doesnβt do anythingβheβs too good at thisβbut you donβt think you could stop if you wanted to.
βPlease, please, please-β
βYouβre real good at begging, sweetheart.β Dean kisses the side of your head, and you nod weakly. βYou think Iβm not give you what you need?β
βI- I donβt think youβre showing any signs of it.β You breathe, and he laughs.
βCanβt argue with that. But youβre kinda restricting my movements.β He splits his two fingers, placing them around your pussy lips and rubbing slowly up down. βAnd trust, Iβd love to play with your wet little pussy until you were coming all over my hand, but you started something on my pants. Think you should finish it.β
You lean back in slow confusion, and Dean nods between your bodies. You flush when you see it.
The faint dark spot, on his still hard crotch. You canβt look away from it.
Dean pulls your panties forward, then snaps them back against your pussy. Your hips jerk, wild eyes flying up to his, and he grins.
βKeep them on.β He smirks, dragging you back to sit on his crotch. βAnd take what you want.β
You nod breathlessly, grabbing the bench behind his head and starting to fuck down against Deanβs bulge. Youβre more deliberate than before, gaze locked onto Deanβs, knowing exactly where to move to get the best friction. Dean watches you as if youβre sent from Heaven, licking his lips and rubbing your ass. Heβs hiked up your skirt, giving him full access to whatever he wants. You expect handprints, maybe more teasing touches to keep you on the edge.
Instead, he grabs the back of your neck, and just watches you move on him. His mouth falls open, and when you lean a little down, he doesnβt hesitate to close the space.
Your speed picks up. The ruined fabric of your panties only adds to the friction, almost completely letting you feel the rough, tantalizing sensation of the denim. When you get your clit, itβs like being rolled between two pinched fingers, and you start to hump that one spot.
Dean groans, and when you catch against something, you realize youβre hitting the head of his cock.
You reach between your bodies, grabbing for something of him to hold onto, and find what has to be his balls. Theyβre big, heavy even when youβre not really holding them, and when you squeeze softly Deanβs whole body jerks.
βFuck- Son of a bitch, you canβt just-β Deanβs words turn into a long moan of your name, when you squeeze again.
You smile to yourself, riding him faster and faster. Deanβs eyes flutter, his fingers weaving into your hair. You throw your head back, and he chases. Starts to bite and suck on your neck again, pushing further and further up until you can no longer get a grip on his balls.
For a second, you try to push back, but Deanβs a solid wall of muscle. Youβre using all your energy to keep yourself moving against him, and every thought empties from your head as his lips travel down.
Dean rips the top of your dress open. You hadnβt been wearing a bra. It wouldβve ruined the outfit.
He has a clear, direct line to wrap his lips around your peeked nipple, and start to suck.
A loud, uncontrollable sound escapes your lips. You donβt know how he can be so good at that. His tongue flicks and swirls, teeth grazing against the bud, and all you can think of is what heβd do between your legs.
You movements are becoming shorter. More desperate. You press your breasts up, trying to demand more attention. Dean obliges, giving a harshsuckle before a series of kitten licks. He lazily kisses over the valley of your breasts, taking the neglected bud between his lips and sucking even harder than before.
βOh- Oh my god.β You pull at the short, soft hair on the nape of his neck. He moans, mouth wet and warm wrapped around you. βYes, Dean- Oh- Oh fuck-β
Your eyes roll back in your head, the pressure in your lower tummy just needing a little more to snap. Youβre barely even humping him anymore, just thrashing around and trying to find the right position to get you there.
βI- I canβt-β You scratch Deanβs back, pressing your cheek to the side of his head as you almost sob. βDean, I need to cum, need to cum so fucking bad, Deeaan-β
His hand shoves between you, shoving one finger into your dripping pussy. Even with how wet you are thereβs a slight stretch, and itβs just the one finger. You slam down onto him, your clit getting plenty of attention against his jeans, and youβre getting lightheaded with the need to find release.
Dean finger crooks inside you. Right against your g-spot. He wiggles it, rubbing fast and firm. His tongue presses flat against your nipple, swirling as he moans, and your shriek with delight.
You cum, shaking and moaning right into Deanβs ear. His finger slowly fucks you through it, but the moment you make a broken sound of his name, his lips are back over yours to swallow it. You donβt think youβve ever cum that hard before. You can feel it all the way to the tips of your fingers, electric on your tongue as Dean kisses you.
Your pussy is clenching around his finger, and he grunts, angling his head to kiss you deeper. He pulls out slowly, rubbing your cunt until your wetness is smeared all over your thighs.
βThe back.β He grunts, words thick and strained. βGet in the back.β
You feel bubbly. Youβve never felt bubbly before. Thereβs a rough command in Deanβs words thatβs probably going to make you melt in a matter of minutes. But right now, you just giggle.
Dean leans back, looking at you like youβre insane.
βSweetheart.β He wipes the hair stuck to your brow, and you can feel the tension in his voice. Heβs trying to be patient. βWhatβre you laughing at?β
You shake your head, beaming as you press back over him. Dean grunts when you kiss him, but kisses back immediately.
βI just came on your pants.β You breathe.
He hums, leaning back to give you an exasperated look. βAnd thatβs funny?β
βLast week I was crying about how I was never going to hold your hand.β
βAh.β That makes him smile. He kisses your cheek, squeezing his hold on you. βWe can do that later.β He mutters. βAfter we get in the back.β
You hum, going back in to kiss him again. Dean gives you five seconds, before youβre being picked up like a sack of potatoes and tosses over the bench. You land with a squeal, scrambling up to your palms, and Dean laughs.
βWhat the fuck-β
βTold you.β He shrugs, pulling his shirt over his head. βBut donβt worry. Was counting on you not giving a damn what I told you to do.β
You gape at him. βI- I do what you tell me-β
βNo, you donβt.β
βWhat about when you told me to go grocery shopping, I did that-β
βYou got everything wrong.β He gives you an amused look, and you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest.
βYour list was confusing. And when I tried to call, you didnβt pick up.β
βList works for Sammy.β
βIβm not Sam, I need you to make a list for me-β
βI did make a list for you.β Dean crawls over the bench, grinning down at you. βAnd you still bought that fuckinβ turkey meat.β
You swallow, unable to stop yourself from drinking him in. Youβve seen him shirtless before, but itβs always been quick glimpses you forced yourself to look away from, or in the context of a wound. But this, here, the car is filled with steam from your fun before, thereβs only to golden halo of the streetlamp, and Dean is all yours to stare at, as much as you want.
His chest is broad, softer in some places than heβs probably been in his youth, but perfect. Youβre going to be completely smothered in him, you could shove your face between his pecs, feel his thick biceps wrap tight around you as he fucks you like youβve always dreamed. Heβs covered in jagged scars and freckles. You want to touch every single one.
βSam gave me twenty dollars not to get red meat.β You breathe.
Dean chuckles, pulling at his belt. βAnd you chose him over me?β
You meet his gaze again, sure you must look like a lost doe under all of him. Youβre not sure what to do with yourself at all. βYou didnβt giveΒ me twenty dollars.β
βAnd if I gave you twenty bucks?β He grins, pulling down his pants.
Thatβs your queue to say something smart. You canβt think anything smart.
Deanβs cock stands proud above you, and itβs pretty. Prettier than a porn cock, and those things look like theyβre plastic. Deanβs thick and veiny. Heβs well groomed, his balls heavier than they felt beforeβthey could fit in your mouth, and you might choke, but would that really be so badβand the tip of him nice and curved. Just the sight of him makes your pussy clench around nothing. Your legs spread wider.
Deanβs throat bobs, as he follows the movement. Heβs slowly stroking himself, and you watch his grip get white knuckled as you spread your legs wider.
You need to touch him. He touched you. Itβs only fair.
But you reach for him, and Dean catches your wrist. Pins your arm over your head, forcing him to lower down. He settles between your legs, giving you a stern look that makes your breath hitch.
βNo.β He chastises, and you pout.
βI wanna put you in my mouth.β
βYou- Jesus, woman.β He lets out a sharp breath, closing his eyes. βYou canβt freakinβ say that-β
βWhy not-β
βI ainβt as young as I used to be, alright?β
You frown. βI know that.β
He shakes his head. βNo, I mean-β He sighs, dropping his brow against yours.
You pull your hand carefully out of his hold, running your fingers through his hair. He lets out a low rumbling sound, almost like a purr, so you keep going. He makes nice sounds. Youβd like to collect all of them, and keep them in little jars on your shelf you can listen to whenever you want.
βI like the hair.β You say, soft and casual. Like his cock isnβt pressed right against your cunt. βAnd the beard?β
Dean huffs a low laugh. βYeah?β
βMhm. Makes you look your age.β
βI am my age-β
βIn a sexy way.β You blurt, and he sits up, brows raised.
βA sexy way?β
βYeah.β You nod, suddenly wanting to hide your face. βI mean, youβre- Youβre always sexy- Iβve always wanted to have sex with you, but- But I also think, if itβs- If youβre going to be kissing me all the time- Iβd like this-β
Dean shuts you up with a deep, open-mouthed kiss. You hum, thankful for the mercy, and shiver when you feel him peeling away the scraps of your underwear and dress. You donβt think youβre going to haver anything to ride home in.
Something to worry about later. When Deanβs not rubbing his dick against your pussy. The large head of his presses against your clit, Deanβs beard tickling your neck as he kisses everywhere his mouth can find, and you feel the pressure starting to build again.
βDeanβ¦β You mumble. βOh- Oh-β
He sucks on a hickey from before, and the previous orgasm had already made you more sensitive. Your back arches, forcing your swollen button to rub against his shaft, and your mouth falls open in a loud, lewd moan.
βEasy,β he mutters, dropping his weight. Forcing you back down. βTryinβ to tell you, sweetheart. Iβm barely fuckinβ holding it together, and if I blow before I get inside of you, Iβm gonna drive myself off a cliff.β
You giggle despite yourself, letting your body relax into his touch. You trust him, and the idea of him just having you is enough to make your pussy ache. βAw.β You turn, smiling at him. βYou care.β
He snorts. βYou always a brat? Or just when Iβm fuckinβ you.β
βDo you want the real answer to that?β
βHm.β Dean tilts his head, gaze raking over your body. Over every mark heβs left, to the point that youβre mostly a map of his hands and lips.
A smirk curve on his lips, and you feel one strong hand grab under your knee, moving it up to your chest. Putting you on full, naked display.
βNah.β He drawls. βI think Iβm good.β
The air is knocked from your lungs, as he presses forward. His cock slides slowly into you, filling the car with the hottest, wettest sound youβve ever heard. You grab his forearm, just trying to ground yourself, and he goes for your other knee.
Dean bends you in half under him, folding you into a pressed little ball. You can see yourself swallowing his cock. See every inch disappear into your pussy, every vein right before it bumps inside your gooey walls. Deanβs chest is heaving, his features open and slack.
βFuck.β He grunts. Reverent and as wrecked as you feel. βSon of a bitch, you fit me like a goddamn glove. Takinβ me like a champ, sweetheart, cβmon- Just a little more-β
He spits on where youβre meeting, on your clit, and you try to arch up. He grunts, pushing the last few inches fully in.
You throw your head back, trying to adjust to the feeling of being so full. He feels even bigger than he looked, and youβd forget to breathe if he didnβt wrap his hand around your ribcage, and squeeze gently.
βGood?β Deanβs voice cracks, and you can almost see his chest rippling with the restraint to hold still.
You nod, opening your mouth, then closing it when words fail you. Heβs just- Heβs so big and everywhere. Heβs pushed over your g-spot, and itβs making you feel like youβre being dragged through a pool of pleasure. Thereβs nothing else to think about.
Deanβs brow furrows. βBaby, I need you to talk to me-β
βGood.β You breathe out. βSo- So good, Deaaaan-β
You tug on his wrist, trying to bring him down to your level. He immediately understands, bending over for a kiss. You relax as his lips move against yours, pushing your hips a little up to take in more of him. You might be able to cum just like this. Impaled on Deanβs cock. Usually youβd need something more, but youβre hypersensitive, and itβs like he was made to be inside you.
You smile at him, when he pulls back up. He swallows, slowly reaching up to grab your jaw.
βIβm gonna move, alright?β
You hum, still smiling, and Dean takes in a slow breath.
βCan you keep lookinβ at me?β
You nod, and his lips twitch.
βYou really canβt talk right now, huh?β
Head shake. Deanβs eyes glint, and your mouth falls open as he thrusts. Once, harsh and short against your g-spot.
βSo fuckinβ cockdrunk you canβt speak.β He drawls, grinding slowly into your pussy. Still too shallow to be anything. Just working your g-spot until tears prick at your eyes. βYou think you can at least say my name, baby?β
βDeeean-β You mewl out, gasping as he finally gives a full, deep thrust. βDean- Dean-β
βThatβs it.β He grunts, pulling almost fully out before slamming back in. βThatβs my girl. Nice and dumb on this cock. Just letting it happen, arenβt you sweetheart.β
βMmmm.β Is all you can manage, but itβs Deanβs fault.
Heβs fucking you like a man possessed. Cock slipping in and out of your channel, drilling into your g-spot and cervix. You can see it, see the vein in his brow as he moans your name, see the mess forming around your pussy as you soak his dick.
βDean.β You babble, a strange, tight heat forming deep inside you. βDeaan, βs- βs big-β
βI know.β He coos. βI know, baby, but- Shit- Youβre takinβ it so well. Best thing Iβve ever fuckinβ felt-β
He grunts, balls slapping against your ass. His body is sticky and shining with sweat, and you canβt stop yourself from staring at how he moves as he fucks you. Each motion is so powerful, and thereβs an impossibly good, perverted feeling you get from watching where you meet, and-
βLook.β He grunts, tapping your chin with his thumb. βLook at me, sweetheart, come on-β
You blink up at him, and he groans, bending over as he slams inside.
You donβt think. Your mouth opens, and you take his thumb between your lips, sucking softly. Itβs nice to have something to do, when youβre too fucked out to even remember your own name.
And it does something to Dean. His thrusts stutter, and a deep, growling sound comes from his chest. You hum, blinking up at him from glossy eyes. He groans, chest heaving, and something snaps in his expression.
Dean fucks you so hard you could swear the car was shaking. His thumb pushes further between your lips, and you take it happily. You can feel the sensation between your legs building, a little different than your usual orgasm, but itβs good. Tingly and hot, almost like youβre being shot up with direct euphoria. Your lashes flutter, and you moan around Deanβs thumb as he starts to give sharp, abusing thrusts to your g-spot.
He bends like heβs trying to get his mouth on your pussy, only just remembering his body canβt move like that and pulling his hand away from your mouth. Youβre about to whine in frustration, but then Dean finds your clit.
He gives it tight, back and forth rubs that make your hips buck up. He uses his cock to bully them back down, rubbing even harder, and the sensation explodes like fireworks.Β
Β Itβs wet and messy, spilling out of your pussy with Dean still seated deep inside you. He moans, dropping over you as you milk his cock, dragging him into orgasm with you. Youβre shaking, cumming and cumming harder than you can keep up with. You can feel the releaseβyours or Deanβs, doesnβt really matterβsticking inside of you and dribbling down your ass.
Dean kisses you, and you barely manage to kiss him back. Youβre boneless and floaty again, your body so washed with pleasure you might be shaking from it. Like heβd struck you with lightning.
βYou did so good.β Dean murmurs, pulling slowly out. βThat was- Fuck, that was awesome.β
You smile in a dazed agreement, beaming up at him, and everything in Dean seems to soften. He presses a gentle kiss to your brow and pulls you upright, helping you settle in the bench before getting himself to work.
He tries to clean up the seats, but gives up fast and mumbles something about doing it back home. You were right in assuming your clothing was ruined, so Dean just gives you his shirt and wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you against him for the drive home.
When you pull in to the garage, he doesnβt give you a chance to try and walk. Youβre hauled into his arms like a princess and marched inside, Dean only pausing to wipe the back bench and stop a smell.
First stop is the bathroom. Then Dean offers to bring you to your bedβthe words weighted and reluctantβbut you shove your face into his neck and shake you head.
Dean. You need to be near Dean.
He carries you to his bed with a tall pride, and somehow manages to keep a hand on you as he changes into his own sweats. You cuddle into him, smiling when he presses a kiss to your brow.
βIf I forget this,β he murmurs. βRemind me in the morning.β
You laugh softly, voice quiet but returned. βIf you forget, Iβm going to kill you.β
βAnd I woulda earned that.β
βMh.β You curl further into his arms, andβunable to help itβwhisper. βDonβt forget.β
Dean kisses the top of your head, words a lullaby as you drift off to slip.
βNever. Iβm yours now, sweetheart. Like it or not.β
You like it.
You donβt think you could like it more if you tried. Β
β¦End note: deeply unfair that he isn't real. we gotta talk to someone about that.β¦
β¦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3β¦
β¦Buy me a coffee!βοΈ (and get early access!)β¦
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
Me at age 13, exhausted at school after staying up all night to read fanfic: I canβt wait until Iβm an adult and I can stay up reading without any consequences!
Me, an adult, exhausted at work after staying up all night reading fanfic: Fuck.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
Dean's been here for three weeks- it should've been a simple hunt, then Sam went and got the flu and suddenly it wasn't a simple hunt.
Three weeks ago he noticed you in the back pew.
Two weeks ago he noticed you at the front.
One week ago you didn't come.
And now you're sat beside him in the confession booth, twisting your hands together as you try to speak.
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."
Dean's not used to this. He's been dealing with petty confessionals since he arrived, old people admitting to gossiping and not praying enough.
But you're different. You're shy and bright eyed and innocent and fucking hot.
You're So. Fucking. Hot.
He felt it in an instant, the first time he saw you on that back row, his cheeks flushing slightly, his pants tightening as he stood at the pulpit and tried to recite the sermon Sam wrote for him. He struggled through, trying not to look at you, trying not to think about everything he wanted to do to you.
And now you're here. Next to him.
"It has been four weeks since my last confession."
And his pants are tightening all over again.
"Go ahead." He coughs slightly, trying to pull himself together.
"I- is Father Michael coming back anytime soon- I was really hoping to talk to him."
Dean leans back, letting a slow breath out his nose, "I'm sorry, he's on his pilgrimage for a few more weeks. I thought he'd be back by now, but I guess this town will be stuck with me for a while longer."
"It's only- I don't want to bother you with this-"
He smiles. He can barely see you through the confession screen, but he can see your chest rising and falling on every small breath, the innocent little church dress suddenly looking more scandalous in this low light.
"Please, there's nothing you can't say to me, I'm here to listen."
He sees you give a small nod, playing with the hem of your dress, "I- uh- I've been having indecent thoughts."
He swallows hard. This can't be happening. "Indecent, how?"
"They're... lustful."
Dean tightens his fist, trying to make himself seem put together, the hairs on his neck standing on end. Why is this so hard? Why do you have to look so cute?!
You take his silence as a prompt to continue, "I think of... Men... A man... Touching me."
"You're thinking about sex?" Dean can't stop himself, he says it before he even realized what he's done.
You let out a small breath, caught off guard by his frank words, "I- yes- yes I am."
"Good sex?" He tries to smile, he feels like his cock might break through the fly of his pants.
You chuckle slightly, thankful for his tone, "Yes."
"Is this real sex or just- thoughts?" This isn't how a confession is supposed to go. Sam taught him how to do it right- Forgive me Father yadda yadda, I'm very sorry yadda yadda, I absolve you from your sins in the name of yadda yadda yadda. If he was honest with himself he'd say he was actually pretty good at them by this point. So he knows he's not supposed to be asking this many questions. But he can't help himself.
You smile, looking down at your dress, "Thoughts, Father. I've never..." You trail off, "This man- he wouldn't want me anyway."
"Who wouldn't want you? You're gorgeous." Dean knows he's fucked up as soon as he says it. That's definitely not part of the script.
You glance at him, you can probably see even less of him than he can see of you, but still, there's an outline there, "What?"
He looks away, "I- you're a god loving woman, surely any man would be lucky to court you."
"This man- he has other matters on his mind."
Dean holds back on another comment. Whatever man you're pining after in the middle of Fuckoff, Nowhere better start appreciating you quick.
You keep talking, "I just- I need forgiveness, Father. I've been trying not to think about- trying to stay pure- I need god to forgive me for these thoughts."
He just can't help himself, "It's just thoughts?"
"Father?" You're playing with the hem again.
"Just- thoughts? There's nothing more you need forgiveness for?"
There's a beat. Air thick. You look over at him, then down again, "I've- I've behaved immodestly."
He wets his lips, "You've touched yourself?"
You don't reply, but he sees you nod through the screen.
"You've avoided confession for three weeks- avoided telling me for three weeks- why?"
You don't look up, the moment draws on, then you speak again, quieter, "I- I've been thinking about... you."
Dean's dead. He's dead and he's in heaven and some angel has served you up on a silver platter because there's no other way he actually just heard what he thinks he heard.
You let out a meak sound, "I'm sorry, Father- I know it's sinful-"
Maybe it's chivalry - he can't leave here knowing a pretty girl's tearing herself apart because of something so natural.
Maybe he's just horny- his pants so tight, cock so hard, he's loosing blood to his brain.
Either way he can't help himself, "How can it be a sin to make yourself feel good, huh?"
You seem to take his words as a test, "The bible says-"
"You're not hurting anyone- you're certainly not hurting me- it's not a sin to...", he sighs, he's already pushed it too far, "Does it feel nice? Do you enjoy it?"
"Father, should we really be-"
Fuck. He wishes you'd stop calling him Father. It's scrambling his brain in a way he can't quite understand, "It's a simple question. Do you enjoy touching yourself?"
He hears you suck in a small gasping breath at his words. There's silence, then your quiet voice, "Yes."
"You use your fingers, I presume?"
You glance at him, there's really no reason to be asking this, surely you know that, but you answer anyway, even quieter than before, "Yes."
"And you touch your..." He's pretty sure there's no godly way to say sweet, innocent cunt so he trails off instead.
"Yes."
Dean's already going to hell- he's already gone to hell- this moment isn't going to shift any tides, what he does now really won't make a difference in the grand scheme of his life, "Do it now."
You don't say anything, but he sees you look up, staring at him through the screen, trying to understand what he just said.
"Touch yourself, here, for me. Let me hear you."
You don't argue, maybe it's what you've been waiting to hear, maybe it's what you've spent every night thinking about.
He hears you shifting, quietly. He tries to catch the light, seeing what you're doing- spreading your legs apart, hand moving between your thighs, head tilting backwards. He stops breathing, stops moving, desperate to hear any sound he can from you.
There it is, a tiny little whimper, fingers pushing into a soaked pussy, a gasp like you're holding back.
God he's gonna blow his fuckin' load. He palms his cock through his pants, looking for some kind of relief as he listens intently.
You moan- it's quiet and reserved, hidden, but he still hears it, still has to slam his head back against the booth to stop himself from cursing.
"F- Father please-"
He can't stop himself, he's standing before he knows what's happening, barrelling out of the flimsy wooden door with his cock aching and his forehead covered in sweat. He slams open your side of the confessional, his eyes glazed as he stares down at you.
Your legs are parted, dress pushed up your thighs, fingers hidden under your panties- biting down on your lip so hard Dean things you might draw blood. You react quickly to his presence, moving your hand and closing your thighs, trying to stutter out some excuse like this isn't exactly what he was asking for.
He sinks to his knees without a word, parts your legs like a man possessed. Your panties are soaked, he practically drools at the sight, so sweet and vulnerable and all for him.
He leans in, pulling your panties to the side and pressing his tongue to your slit in one move. You gasp, hand flying to grip his hair, hips bucking into him. Dean knows sin, this could never be a sin. You taste like heaven.
He pulls at your hips, tugging you into him so he can press his whole mouth against your pussy, pushing your thighs over his shoulders. His eyes flutter shut, the feeling too much for him, your arousal coating his cheeks and chin. His tongue finds your clit, circling it before he sucks it into his mouth, hearing you moan in response.
He pushes his tongue into you, one hand still on your hip, the other curling around your thigh, his fingers digging into you to keep you still. Your head rolls back, your ankles locking together behind his back as you pull him in closer.
He's so close his nose is rubbing against your clit as he laps at your cunt, your taste sending him into a frenzy, your thighs twitching as they rub against the stubble on his jaw.
"Father-" you gasp, gripping his hair tighter.
His cock twitches, he's gonna cum in his pants. He doesn't care, he's never felt this desperate for anything.
He pushes his tongue back into you, drags it out to suck on your clit. Your tiny gasps sound like a hymn, his fingers grasping at your flesh, his teeth grazing against your swollen pussy lips.
"Father- please- I'm going to-"
You don't even need to say it. He can feel your cunt clenching, your thighs shaking. You draw in a ragged breath as he moves over your clit. Your hips curve into him, your legs strained as you pull him in, your head rolling back in a loud moan you have no way to conceal.
Dean cums. He cums without a single touch as you topple over the edge, your orgasm twitching through you, your body on fire as he pushes you through it. He laps at you like a man starved, still letting you coat him, still grabbing at you like he can't let you go.
Your hips keep bucking, your breath still tight, your moaning still impossible to hide. He feels as your body starts to melt, relaxing back against the seat, twisting away as pleasure turns into sensitivity. He pulls back slightly, still slowly tasting you, his tongue softer.
He finally moves away, staring up at you, his eyes glossed, his face still wanting. You suck your lip into your mouth as you look down at him, silence pounding in both your ears. He reaches out, adjusting your panties to cover you back up- to stop himself from going in all over again.
You swallow hard, "F- forgive me Father-"
He moves back, jaw clenching. He can feel his own cum, wet against his groin, "Don't. Don't. You have nothing you need to be forgiven for."
"I tempted-"
"You didn't- I promise you, you didn't. I've wanted to do that from the moment I saw you."
You suck in a small breath, nodding as you stare at him, wide eyes.
He stands, he hopes you don't notice the patch on his pants, "You- you get going now."
You nod again, staying silent as you slip past him.
He almost lets you go without another word, but he can't stop himself, catching your wrist, "I expect to see you in church on Sunday."
βΎπ€βΎπ€βΎπ€βΎπ€βΎπ€
Part of the tarot series - 22 unrelated short stories exploring different Dean x Reader archetypes.
Just comment/message to let me know if you'd like a tag. Asked to tag: @pieolsen @bitchinwallaby @icedteabee @angel1withacigarette @lydia-caldwell-writes @eddiemunsonistheloml @bearymuchso @magic-sprinkled-daydreams @leysol @angrydragon90 @globetrotter28
βοΈ As always- I'd love to know your thoughts β€οΈ Comments are very much appreciated βοΈ
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
kiss your screen every time you see a typo or grammatical error in my fics because it means it's home grown and not some ai bullshit and im dead serious about this