Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, pre-established relationship, light fluff, lotta smut (fingering, blowjob, p in v), humor.
Summary/Warnings: A slow morning gets heated fast.
Author's Note: Request from @wizardluffy! I swear to god I got so close to only horny. But at the last moment. Feelings with the steel chair. Enjoy!
Word Count: 2.4k
It’s amazing this doesn’t happen more often, given who Dean is. A year ago, before you got to have this—Dean’s body sprawled over yours, his snoring right in your ear and face pressed into the crook of your neck—you would’ve imagined that it was a daily occurrence.
But Dean has a lot more self-control than people give him credit for. You’ll see him eyeing your ass when you’re wearing a skirt, but he’ll wait until you’re home to back you against a wall. He’ll kiss on your neck and whisper promises in your ear, but only when he’s sure no one’s looking. And you can try to get him to lose it at a bar—bending over the pool table and batting your eyelashes like a lovesick schoolgirl—but his face won’t even shift until the door to your bedroom closes, and he’s pouncing on you like a lion.
So this doesn’t happen that often. Not where he’s pressed right into your thighs and grinding slowly. Where he hasn’t somehow caught it in his sleep and moved you away.
Good.
These are your favorite types of mornings.
“Dean.” You whisper, wiggling slightly. “Dean.”
He grunts, and his arm around you tightens.
“Dean Winchester-“
“Shhhh,” his lips brush over the base of your throat, and a shiver runs up your spine. “‘m sleepin’.”
“You’re talking-“
“No, I’m not.” He shifts slightly, his dick pressing right against your core, and a small noise escapes your throat.
“Dean-“
He shakes his head. “Five more minutes.”
It’s a good thing he’s so adorable, because he’s clinging to you like an octopus and rutting mindless against you, completely oblivious to the heat building between your legs.
You let out a sigh—just a little too blissful to be only frustration—and run your fingers through his hair.
“Dean.” You roll your hips against him, and a soft hiss leaves his mouth. “You’ve got a bit of problem there, buddy.”
His eyes slowly open to meet yours, and a little bleary, but still dancing with amusement. “Did you just call me buddy, sweetheart?”
You grin at him. “Got your attention, didn’t it?”
“Ah.” Dean traces a hand slowly over your cheek before pressing a soft, almost teasing kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Babygirl, you always have my attention.”
You open your mouth, trying to pull up a smart retort from the back of your sleep-fogged brain, but Dean’s a little too fast. He nips at your lower lip while pulling the upper one into his teeth, and when you let out a breathy moan, sleep seems to vanish from his mind.
Dean rolls over you, pinning you fully between the mattress and his body, and all thoughts of smart comebacks are gone. It’s just Dean, all around you. His hand on your hips, slowing sliding under your shirt to palm at your breast as he kisses you with an open, lazy mouth. Two fingers roll at your nipple with a torturously slow pace, and you might be about to fly out of your skin, but it doesn’t matter, because Dean-
“Shit,” you mumble, your back arching slightly off the bed as he switches to your other breath. “Dean-“
“C’mon, sweetheart.” Dean’s grinning against you, his tongue tracing slowly over your lips between words. “’S what you wanted, isn’t it. To have my attention?”
“I- Oh.” His lips attach to your neck, and your eyes flutter slightly. “Dean-“
He hums against your skin, and his hand starts to glide back down. Over your stomach with a teasing squeeze of your ribs, kneading your hips and thighs, then-
You let out a long, loud moan as Dean starts to rub his thumb on your clit, grinding up to meet his hand, and he groans against your skin.
“So fuckin’ wet for me, baby.” He’s moving so slow. So slow and teasing, and his thumb is rolling around but never pressing down. “You this needy for me all night? Woke me up cause you needed me to take care of you?”
You gasp as he flicks against you once, and shake your head desperately. “No- That’s not-“
“C’mon,” He hums your name, rising back over your body with a grin. “It’s just me, sweetheart, you can tell me-“
“Dean, I-“ You take a stuttering breath as his finger pushes inside of you, squirming against his body. “Wanted to take care of you, De- Oh-“
You cut yourself off with a moan as he presses his thumb over your clit, starting to pump his finger so fucking slow, and Dean rises over you with a cocky grin.
“You wanted to take care of me?” He says your name, his finger slamming a little hard into your cunt, and you moan. “Wake me up just so you could what, give me a handjob?”
You’re just lucid enough to glare at him. You’re more creative than that. You love him more than that. And he’s talking like you were making a joke, like you taking care of him would be insane.
Dean’s slow from sleep. You know it’s the only reason you have an upper hand.
You’re still not going to waste it.
Right as he pushed the second finger inside of you—if he got to move it, you would have turned to a squirming puddle beneath him and lost all hope—you hook your leg over his waist, and throw all your weight up. It’s enough to catch him off guard. Enough for you to plant your hands on his chest and push him to the side, until you’re straddling his abdomen and grinning down at his wide-eyed expression.
“Hi,” you whisper, your lips hovering right over Dean’s, and his hands fly up to hold your waist.
“Christ.” He mutters, scanning over your smug expression. “That was really fucking hot, sweetheart.”
Something starts to glow in your chest. “Thank you.”
He hums, his hands tugging at the hem of your shirt. “Need this off, baby, wanna see you-“
“You see me all the time-“
Your words die with a squeak as Dean lands a light slap on your ass, and your fingers dig into his shoulder.
“Someone gets a smart when she’s on top.” He grins up at you, pulling your shirt a little higher. “Mines off too. ’S a democracy-“
“That’s not what democracy means.” You mumble. “And I’ll take my shirt off if you take your pants off.”
Dean laughs. “Easiest deal of my life.”
You roll your eyes as he tugs your shirt over your head, and his hands immediately moving to palm at your breasts. You pry them away with a kiss to Dean’s palm, but you still get a glower.
“What’re you-“
“I’m taking care of you, Dean.” You press his hands down to his chest, squeezing them once in a silent plea for him to stay down, and he obeys.
You still get a loud groan, though, when you wiggle down his stomach and settle between his legs, pulling his sweats down to free his thick, hard cock.
“This hard for me?” You grin up at him, slowly starting to stroke his shaft, and he glares at you.
“If you don’t start doin’ something, I’m coming down there-“
Dean cuts himself off with a grunt as you press a kiss to the head of him, your hand still pumping a slow as you can manage, and his hand shoots into your hair.
“Son of a bitch, sweetheart- You gotta-“ His head throws back as you swirl your tongue around him, his hips jerking up into your mouth. “Goddamnit-“
You pull away with a grin, and he tenses beneath you. “Relax, De-“
“I was relaxed.” He grumbles, his thumb moving to trace your cheekbone. “Was havin’ a really good dream about you, baby- And, fuck-“
He jerks up again, as you lick up from the base of his cock to the tip, and you giggle.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He groans your name, his hips bucking once more as you take him fully your moan, letting him bump against the back of your throat. “You’re a- Feels so fucking good-“
You glance at him under your eyelashes, and it’s a beautiful sight. Dean’s chest heaving as you bob up and down—letting your tongue press flat over his head and jerking him off before pressing back down and moaning as you choke on him—and his eyes squeezed tight as he tries to let you work.
And he really is trying. All you’re getting is the occasional rut when you swallow around him and a mumbled apology, but you know to relax your throat and prepare for him. It’s more than worth it for the way Dean’s loose below you, and the sounds that are rumbling out of his chest, and the way he’s somehow keeping control but still fisting your hair so tight you can feel a slight burn.
But he’s getting closer. And moaning. And hair is the price you have to pay for, Dean cumming down your throat, you’ll goddamn live-
“Shit,” Dean hisses your name through his teeth, his cock jumping slightly in your mouth. “Baby, I’m gonna-“
You moan around him, picking up your speed, and his hips slam up into your mouth with almost a growl rolling through his body.
“God fuckin’- Alright-“ Before you can stop him, Dean sitting up, pulling you off with a grunt and hauling you into his chest. “That’s enough of that.”
You squeak, squirming against his hold, but it’s only building the heat in your core. Because there it is. There’s the snap in his control, as he rolls you onto your back and fixes you with a firm gaze that makes your grind up into him, and-
A high, breathy giggle leaves your lips, and Dean raises his brows.
“You proud of yourself, sweetheart?”
You nod, rolling your hips up so his cock slides against the mess between your thighs. “Very- mmm-“
Dean cuts you off with a long, slow kiss, and you moan down his throat as he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing just the head inside.
“Wanna cum in you,” he mutters your name against your lips. “Need to feel you, baby. Please lemme feel you-“
You nod, pushing back up into him for another, harsher kiss, and it’s all he needs.
Dean groans as he slides into you, his brow pressing right to yours with a groan.
“So tight,” he mutters, kissing all over your face as he lets you adjust. “Feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart-“
Another giggle escapes your throat, and it turns into a high gasp when Dean pulls almost all the way out, then slams back in.
“Not so smug now, are you sweetheart.”
You moan, scratching at his chest, and Dean just chuckles.
“I know, babygirl. I’ve got you. Gonna fuck you till you can’t fuckin’ walk.” Dean rolls his hips, bumping on that deepest spot inside of you, and you might be melting and blooming all at once. “Just gotta hold on, alright.”
“Oh- Okay-“ The word is barely out of your mouth before Dean starts to move, and it turns into a gasp that Dean swallows with a grin.
He doesn’t start hard. It’s only a torturous, taunting drag of his hips against yours for so long, until you’re scratching at his back and whining his name into his ear. Then Dean starts to push a little deeper, a little faster, and stars are dancing behind your eyes as he splits you open on his cock.
But it’s still so slow.
You don’t bother to beg. It rarely works anyway. And Dean knows how to work himself up, just by fucking into you like he has a million years and kissing you until both your lips are swollen.
Then he hits the deepest part inside of you, you clench around him and moan his name, and his control slips.
It’s like a switch, whenever it happens. Just like with your mouth on his cock, he grunts, and then all bets are off.
Dean starts to fuck into you like he’s an animal. His hips slamming down against yours and his mouth attacks everywhere he can possibly reach, fingers squeezing and pulling at the skin of your hips and thighs. You can barely get in a single whine or plea, your head dizzy and full of Dean, Dean, muscled and feral above you, still holding you so gently but bruising into your cunt until you’re fluttering and dripping around his cock-
You cum suddenly, with a high scream that Dean swallows, and he’s not far behind. His movement stutter—his tongue pushed down your mouth and your pussy clenching around him as you writhe below him—and a deep moan escapes him as he falls over the edge.
It’s mostly just color and warmth for you, as you float back down. Dean’s pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and flicking your clit—rocketing you right back up as he laughs, the asshole—but you don’t miss his soft murmur of love you, baby, before he pulls out.
He always says it there. After the control has snapped, right before he’s regained it, and when you’re so cockdrunk out you can only hum in return.
It’s sort of how you know he means it. He’s just as bare as you are, and he’s kissing your brow with a low promise of cleaning you up, and nobody else in the world gets to have this. Gets to make him lose total control or surrender it over, even if it’s just for a moment. You don’t doubt that Dean’s cleaned up most everyone he’s been with—a warm cloth between your legs, and a soft kiss on your inner thighs—but he stays with you. Dean crawls back over your body and snuggles into your chest, and only you get that.
His warmth, around you, whenever you want. Hip lips brushing your neck as you lay in each other’s warmth, neither of you in a rush to move until Sam starts slamming on the door.
Dean’s slack above you. And when his snoring starts up once more, you smile up at the ceiling.
You’ll stay here as long as you can. At his side, every single morning, as long as Dean lets you.
And if he lets you, you’re just going to let him keep sleeping. He’s earned it.
You be here when he wakes up, anyway.
End Note: Soft dean is very important to me. Dear God take all his suffering and give it to... God.
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