Authors note: I was thinking about Dean so I decided to make this! (Not proof read!)
Warnings: mentions of sex, Deans penis size, mentions of sex positions, hooking up mentioned, talks about kinks (not so much),
Dean LOVES when you take control during sex, especially when you ride him. It’s a little kink he has, when you grab his chain, oh god he’s at your mercy. He also LOVES when your tits bounce up and down. He’s such a tit guy but he also loves your ass.
When he eats you out and you grab onto his hair he gets so turned on, especially when your moaning his name so loud the other people in the off campus house hear, the second you guys are done and took a breather, he walks out of the room loud and proud, he knows everyone heard him and his girl, he gets so cocky about it as everyone looks at him looking like a disaster.
Deans favorite positions are definitely missonary, 69, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl. He loves missionary because he can kiss and actually make love to you. He loves making eye contact to make sure you doing okay, even if he’s a frat boy he still very much cares about your well being during sex or anything. He loves 69 because he loves getting head from you and he gives you head as well, Dean loves oral it’s his favorite thing to receive and give. He loves cowgirl because of the way he’s just there whimpering and begging for more and that your in control, he loves when women control him, it’s his favorite thing. He loves reverse cowgirl because he can look at your ass, also because your top (once again).
Deans penis is a above average, it’s about 7 inches maybe 7.3. When it’s soft it’s about 5 inches (he’s a shower) every girl at briar uni knows he’s packing something. He sometimes goes commando, not too often, Maybe like 1 once a week, but maybe it’s just because he wasn’t in the mood to throw them on or he didn’t do his laundry.
Even though Dean is cocky, rude, charming, he’s still very much nice, sweet and kind, especially during sex or when he actually settles down with someone. He probably even has a rule where he has to make you cum during sex no matter what, he very much thinks females need to cum every sex session because he’s a gentleman. He knows all about trust, communication, consent, protection, privacy, etc. He is the type of guy to say “yes ma’am” whenever you ask him for something
Dean definitely has some kinks, such as bondage, orgasm control, impact play, roleplay, submission, dominance, breeding, (I don’t know much about a lot of kinks so sorry!!)
Summary: From enemies to lovers, your story unfolds through the positions you somehow always ended up in behind closed doors.
Classification: Smut +18 | enemies to lovers, various Kamasutra positions (with linked visuals), rough raw hate-sex, dirty talk, praise, biting, nipple play/groping, manhandling, mild anal fingering, creampies, fingering, ass smacking and love confessions during sex
Word count: 4,5k
Divider by me ;)
When Dean hated wanting you, the sex was pure fire and punishment. Every encounter was a battlefield where he fucked out his frustration by using his strength and cocky dominance to remind you exactly who was in control…
The standing carry or column (Alternate pick: Victory): Dean chose this because it let him pin you completely, using his hockey-built strength to hold you up like you weighed nothing, forcing you to rely on him while he controlled every brutal thrust. It was intimate in the worst way for enemies, your faces were inches apart so he could watch your reluctant pleasure and sneer at it and your back often scraped the wall as he fucked out his frustration. It showcased his power and your vulnerability, turning sex into a battle he always won.
The locker room after practice was empty except for the two of you, tension crackling like ozone before a storm. Dean’s eyes burned with loathing as he shoved you against the cold tiled wall, his massive hands gripping your ass and hoisting you up effortlessly. Your legs locked around his waist out of pure instinct, dress shoved up and panties ripped aside.
“Still mouthing off?” he growled, voice venomous as his thick cock already nudged your soaked entrance as he slammed home in one vicious stroke, burying himself to the hilt while your back arched against the unforgiving surface. The stretch was brutal, perfect, his hips snapping up with punishing force that made your tits bounce and your nails dig into his broad, sweat-slick shoulders.
Every deep, grinding thrust lifted you higher, his pubic bone grinding against your clit and his breath hot on your neck as he bit down hard enough to mark. “Take it, you fucking tease. This is what you get for driving me insane.”
Your walls clenched around his relentless length, juices dripping down his balls as he fucked you harder while the muscles in his arms and thighs flexed like steel cables, holding you suspended and impaled while your moans echoed off the tiles. He didn’t let you look away, forcing eye contact as he chased his release, pounding until you shattered around him with a scream, his own growl following as he flooded you, still hating every second he wanted more.
The pretzel dip: This position let him stay close enough to glare and taunt you while hitting angles that made you hate how good it felt. It was controlled dominance without full surrender of position, perfect for hate sex where he wanted to watch your face twist in unwanted ecstasy and whisper filthy insults.
You were tangled on his couch after another screaming match, clothes half-torn off. Dean flipped you onto your side, slotting behind you but facing you and yanking one of your legs high over his hip so he could sink into your dripping pussy in a single shuddering thrust.
“Look at you,” he snarled, gaze locked on yours and chiseled face mere inches away as he rolled his hips in deep, grinding circles.
The angle let him drag against your front wall with devastating precision, his thick cock stretching you wide while his hand gripped your thigh hard enough to bruise. Sweat slicked your bodies as he fucked you with slow, powerful strokes that built unbearable pressure.
He bit your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth. “Hate how wet you get for me, don’t you? This pussy doesn’t lie.” Your fingers clawed at his sides, pulling him closer despite yourself as the friction on your clit from his grinding pelvis drove you wild. He kept the pace torturous, until you were sobbing his name and coming hard, pulsing around him.
Only then did he let go, slamming deep and filling you with rope after rope of cum, still glaring like he wished he could hate you more.
Spread eagle (Alternates: Deck chair and eagle): It was a pure power move. Dean loved manhandling you, folding your body to expose you completely and fuck you like he owned your pleasure, punishing you with overwhelming sensation.
In the dim light of his bedroom, Dean lifted you like a ragdoll after you’d pushed every button.
He knelt on the bed, hooking your legs over his shoulders and folding you nearly in half, your ankles by your ears as he drove his massive cock into your aching pussy.
The position left you helpless and completely open, every inch of his thick length slamming home with force that made stars burst behind your eyes.
“This what you wanted, princess? Me ruining this greedy little hole?” His voice was rough with contempt and lust, hips pistoning relentlessly, balls slapping wetly against your ass.
Your juices coated his shaft, dripping everywhere as he hit spots so deep you swore you felt him in your throat. His hands pinned your thighs, muscles bulging and sweat dripping from his golden hair onto your heaving breasts.
He watched your face the whole time, drinking in your broken moans and the way your eyes rolled back, using the leverage to fuck you harder, faster, until your orgasm ripped through you like lightning, walls milking him desperately. He followed with a guttural groan, pumping you full until cum leaked out around his still-thrusting cock.
The wheelbarrow: Dean picked this in the height of his hatred because it was deeply humiliating and physically demanding, forcing you into a vulnerable, exposed position where your ass was up, pussy on full display and your arms trembling from holding yourself up. It showcased his athletic strength as he could manhandle you effortlessly while denying easy emotional connection through eye contact.
Every thrust felt like a conquest, your body completely at his mercy, turning the encounter into a power play that fed his frustration and dominance. He loved watching your legs shake, your back arch and your juices drip down your thighs while he mocked how much you craved the man you claimed to despise.
The argument had spilled from the kitchen into his bedroom, words turning to shoves before turning to clothes being yanked off in furious need. Dean’s eyes blazed with pure contempt as he spun you around and bent you forward over the edge of his king-sized bed, your palms slamming down onto the mattress for balance.
He grabbed your thighs just above the knees, hoisting your legs up high and wide so your feet left the ground entirely, your body forming a sharp downward angle with your upper half braced on trembling arms.
Your dripping pussy was completely exposed and elevated for him, ass presented like an offering.
“Fuck, look at this greedy cunt,” he growled, voice dripping with sarcasm and heat, his thick, veined cock slapping against your slick folds teasingly. “Hate me so much but you’re soaked for my dick every goddamn time.”
Without warning, he yanked your legs back toward him and drove forward, spearing every thick inch into your tight pussy in one brutal stroke. The position let him hit impossibly deep, his cock dragging along your front wall with devastating precision as he started pounding.
Your tits swung heavily beneath you, nipples hard and aching, while your arms burned from holding position. Dean’s hips snapped forward with athletic thrusts, his balls slapping wetly against your clit, the wet squelching sounds turning obscene in the room.
He kept your legs spread unfairly wide, muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he used your body like a toy, pulling you back onto his cock with every forward drive as sweat dripped from his golden-blond hair onto your back.
“That’s it…take every inch, you filthy little liar,” he taunted between grunts, one hand sliding down to smack your ass sharply. Your walls fluttered and clenched around his relentless girth, pleasure-pain shooting through you as the angle ground his cockhead right against that spongy spot inside.
Your moans turned into broken cries, juices gushing down your thighs and onto the sheets or floor.
Dean’s pace grew feral, slamming into you harder, grip bruising on your thighs as he watched your body jolt and quake. Your orgasm crashed over you suddenly, pussy spasming wildly around him, vision whiting out as you screamed. He followed with raspy moans, yanking you back one final time and burying himself to the hilt, flooding your convulsing cunt with thick, hot spurts of cum that overflowed and dripped down your folds.
He held you there suspended for long moments afterward, breathing hard, before dropping your legs and stepping back with a mocking smirk, leaving you collapsed and leaking his release.
The bulldog (Alternate pick: the praying mantis): It was one of his favorite ways to put you in your place because it combined deep penetration with the humiliation of being bent over and exposed, while still letting him stay mostly upright and in total command. He loved the way it let him dominate your body completely, especially when his hatred mixed with dark curiosity and he pushed boundaries.
The fight had barely cooled when Dean shoved you toward the couch in the living room. He bent you over the seat, forcing your hands down onto the cushions so your ass was raised high and your upper body angled downward.
In one rough motion he kicked your legs wider apart and stepped between them, lining up his thick cock with your dripping pussy.
“This is what you get for pushing me,” he growled, slamming into you hard. This position gave him the perfect leverage by standing tall, hips snapping forward with brutal force while your upper body trembled. Every thrust drove deep, his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he fucked you like he was trying to punish the desire out of both of you.
Your loud and broken moans echoed through the room as he railed you mercilessly. At one point he slowed, still buried inside your pulsing cunt and pressed a thumb against your tight asshole, circling teasingly.
“Bet you’d let me take this too, wouldn’t you?” he taunted, voice dark and mocking, pushing just the tip of his thumb inside while he continued slow, deep strokes in your pussy. The dual sensation made your legs shake while he laughed low when you clenched hard around him, then pulled his thumb out and went back to pounding your soaked pussy with renewed aggression.
The angle let him hit that perfect spot relentlessly until your orgasm ripped through you, violent and overwhelming, walls spasming around his cock as you cried out loudly. Dean didn’t slow down, he kept fucking you through it, grip bruising on your back, until he finally buried himself to the hilt with a groan and came hard, flooding your clenching pussy with thick ropes of cum.
He stayed inside you for a long moment afterward, breathing heavily, one hand possessively stroking over the curve of your ass where his thumb had been.
“Next time I might not stop at just a hint,” he muttered, voice still rough with leftover hatred and lust.
When the hatred began turning tender and leaving space for reluctance, Dean’s touch started to betray him. The raw aggression that once defined every encounter slowly gave way to something deeper and moments where his hands softened, his thrusts grew more intentional and the fierce eye contact lingered. These three positions marked that change, the confusing middle ground where he was still fighting his feelings but could no longer hide them from you...
The London bridge: Dean found himself drawn to positions that forced a new kind of intimacy even as he tried to resist it. The London bridge became one of his conflicted favorites, an incredibly exposing position that demanded strength and trust from you while giving him the power, depth and breathtaking view he craved. He hated how vulnerable it made both of you, how it stripped away his ability to hide the softening in his touch or the way his eyes kept drifting to your face with something far more hot than lust.
The air in the bedroom felt heavier that night, thick with everything neither of you was ready to say. Dean guided you onto your back and slowly coaxed your body into position, his hands firm but careful as he helped lift your hips until you formed a high, trembling bridge, palms and soles planted on the mattress, back deeply arched, core tight and thighs spread wide for him.
He knelt between your legs, gripping your hips to steady your shaking frame, then dragged the thick head of his cock through your slick folds before pushing inside you in one long stroke. The stretch was intense, the angle letting him sink impossibly deep, pelvis pressing firmly against you with every thrust.
Your arms and legs burned from holding the elevated position, muscles quivering under the strain as Dean began to move. He fucked you with slow downward strokes, each one dragging his thick length along your front wall and grinding against your swollen clit as sweat beaded across your arched stomach and rolled down your ribs.
Dean’s hands explored your elevated body with growing reverence, one hand gripping your hip to control the rhythm and the other sliding up your torso to palm your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers while his eyes never left your face for long, drinking in every parted-lip gasp and fluttering eyelid.
He hated how right it felt. The sight of your body arched so beautifully for him, completely open and trusting despite everything, chipped away at the last of his defenses. He leaned forward slightly, changing the angle even more and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and neck.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he whispered roughly against your skin between thrusts, voice thick with reluctance and need. “I wasn’t supposed to need you like this.”
Your orgasm built in deep, rolling waves, the relentless pressure and perfect angle pushing you higher until you finally shattered. Your walls clenched hard around his cock, body shaking violently in the bridge position as you came with a broken cry of his name.
Dean groaned deeply, hips stuttering as he followed right behind you, burying himself to the hilt and flooding your pulsing cunt with long, thick pulses of cum. He held your arched body close through every aftershock, arms wrapped securely around your waist, forehead pressed to yours as your trembling limbs finally gave out and he gently lowered you back to the bed.
Even then, he stayed hovering over you, breathing you in, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin like he couldn’t bear to break the connection.
Scissor: This builds slow, simmering pleasure that lets emotions bubble up naturally. The intertwined legs create closeness without full face-to-face dominance, allowing Dean to hide some vulnerability at first while the grinding rhythm draws out tender touches and reluctant affection. It’s perfect for the transition phase where hate is fading into complicated longing.
The room was quiet except for shared breathing as Dean pulled you down onto the bed beside him. You faced each other on your sides, legs scissored together so one of yours draped over his hip while his slid between yours. He moved closer, aligning his hard cock with your entrance and pushing in slowly, the position allowing a tight, intimate fit.
“Come here,” he murmured, voice lower and rougher than usual, one arm wrapping around your waist to pull your bodies flush. The grinding started slowly, rocking hips that dragged his thick length in and out in shallow-to-deep slides, your clit rubbing against the base of his shaft with every movement.
With your legs intertwined tightly, you could feel the flex of his thigh muscles against yours. His free hand roamed your body, tracing your curves with surprising gentleness, thumb brushing over your nipple before cupping your breast. Sweat beaded between your pressed bodies as the pace gradually intensified and the wet glide of his cock inside you built delicious friction.
Dean leaned in to capture your lips in a deep, hungry kiss, tongue stroking yours in time with the roll of his hips. “You feel too good…too right,” he breathed against your mouth between kisses.
The slow burn turned molten as your orgasm rolled through you in long pulses, pussy clenching rhythmically around him as pleasure dragged a moan from your throat. He followed right after, groaning into your neck as he spilled deep inside you, arms tightening possessively while the feelings he’d been fighting settled deeper into his chest.
The counterblow: It was an intensely intimate position that left very little room for emotional distance. The way your bodies locked together, the constant eye contact and the slow, grinding rhythm made it almost impossible for him to maintain the cold walls he had once hidden behind. He hated how vulnerable it made him feel, how easily his hands softened on your skin and how his usual cocky smirk kept slipping away.
The soft lamplight cast long shadows across the room as Dean guided you to the sturdy armchair in the corner. He sat you down on the edge of the seat, encouraging you to lean back and grip the sides of the chair for support. You spread your legs wide, feet dangling, as he stepped between your thighs.
He planted his palms firmly on the chair’s edges right beside your hands, caging you in with his arms as his legs spread wide so the seat was completely between them. You hooked your shins over his firm ass, pulling him closer.
Dean’s thick cock nudged against your soaked entrance and with a slow, controlled thrust he sank deep inside you, stretching your walls until he was buried to the hilt. The angle was exquisite, deep, intimate and perfectly aligned for intense pleasure, your faces close enough to share a breath.
Dean’s eyes locked onto yours with burning intensity as he began to move, rolling his hips in grinding strokes. Each thrust pushed deep into your core, the position allowing him to hit that sensitive spot inside you with every motion while his pelvis rubbed firmly against your clit. His strong arms flexed on either side of you, muscles taut from holding himself in position.
One of his hands occasionally left the chair to caress your thigh or brush across your breast, thumb circling your nipple with surprising gentleness.
The pleasure built steadily as he kept the rhythm deep and rhythmic, grinding into you rather than rushing. You could feel every inch of him, the way your bodies connected so completely in this chair-bound embrace.
“Look at me,” he whispered hoarsely, refusing to break eye contact even as his breathing grew ragged. You watched the cocky mask slip away, replaced by raw emotion and reluctant vulnerability. He shouldn’t crave you that fucking much yet his body told a different story, his thrusts remained powerful but tender, each grind measured as if he was savoring every second of your shared pleasure. He leaned down to kiss you deeply, tongue stroking yours while he continued those devastating rolls of his hips.
Your orgasm built in long spasms. The constant deep pressure, the friction on your clit and the intense eye contact pushed you higher and higher until you finally shattered. Your walls clamped down hard around his thick cock, pulsing rhythmically as pleasure tore through you. You cried out his name, thighs tightening around his waist, body trembling in the chair while he groaned deeply, burying himself as far as possible.
His hips stuttered as thick, hot spurts of cum flooded your clenching heat and he stayed inside you long after, arms braced on the chair, forehead pressed to yours while breathing you in. His hand gently stroked your thigh as the aftershocks faded, eyes still locked on yours with a softness he could no longer deny. In that moment, wrapped in the Counterblow’s intimate hold, the last barriers around his heart cracked even further.
After you started dating, your encounters no longer carried the frustration you'd once taken out on each other, nor the irritation born from constantly denying what was right in front of you. Those feelings were suspended between what had once been, what no longer was and the uncertainty of everything that still lay ahead…
Reverse cowgirl (Variation with Dean seated or reclined): Once you were officially together, Dean thrived in this position because it let him be fully in control while indulging his playful, cocky side. He could watch your body move, grip your hips possessively, deliver affectionate smacks or caresses and pull you back for kisses or whispered dirty praise.
The apartment was filled with laughter and lingering kisses as you both tumbled into bed after a night out. Dean, still buzzing with that post-win confidence from his hockey game, pulled you on top of him as he reclined against the headboard.
“C’mere, baby,” he said with a wicked, charming grin, eyes sparkling with affection and heat. He helped position you in reverse, your back to his chest, straddling his lap so his thick, hard cock nestled against your soaked folds. With strong hands on your hips, he guided you down, sinking you onto every impressive inch in one smooth, controlled glide.
A low groan rumbled from his chest. “Fuck, that’s my girl…taking me so perfectly.”
You started to move, rolling your hips and bouncing but Dean quickly took over with playful dominance, his fingers digging into your waist as he lifted and pulled you back onto him with each thrust from below.
The position let him hit deep, his cock dragging along your g-spot with every upward snap while your clit ground against him. One of his hands or sometimes both, slid up your spine, then around to cup and knead your breasts, pinching your nipples just right as he chuckled breathlessly.
“Look at you riding me like you own it…” His voice was teasing yet warm, full of pride.
He planted open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and the back of your neck, occasionally tugging you backward so he could capture your lips in a messy, affectionate kiss over your shoulder.
Sweat glistened on both your bodies as the pace built, his thighs and core driving up into you with confident, rhythmic strokes that made your tits bounce and your moans fill the room.
He often smacked your ass playfully, then soothed the sting with a gentle rub, whispering filthy praise, “So fucking beautiful… my perfect girl, so wet and tight for me.”
The pleasure coiled tighter, your walls fluttering around his thick length as you rocked harder and Dean’s hand slipped between your legs, fingers circling your clit with expert precision while he kept thrusting deep.
“Come for me, baby…let me feel you,” he urged, voice husky with love and lust.
Your orgasm hit hard, pulsing around him as you cried out, body shaking in his lap. With a deep, satisfied groan, Dean followed, wrapping both arms around your waist to hold you down fully as he came, pumping you full of hot cum while murmuring against your skin, “I’ve got you…all mine.” He kept you there afterward, still buried inside, pressing lazy kisses along your spine and whispering playful endearments, completely at ease in the possessive, affectionate afterglow.
This final position was the one that led to his love confession. It had been building for months, waiting for something to tip the scales and force the truth past the walls he'd spent so long keeping up. It wasn't the moment he would've chosen, nor the way he'd rehearsed it a hundred times in his head, but there was never any predicting what would finally make the façade crumble…
The prone bone: This was the position where everything finally broke open. Prone bone allowed Dean to surround you completely with his chest to your back, arms caging you in, his body blanketing yours in a way that felt incredibly vulnerable yet deeply trusting. It was raw, emotional and left no room for hiding emotionally. As the pleasure built, so did the overwhelming love he could no longer contain.
The room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. Dean had been kissing you for what felt like hours, before he gently turned you onto your stomach. You stretched out flat on the bed, heart racing as he settled over you, covering your body with his own, his muscular chest pressed flush against your back, strong arms braced on either side of you.
His golden hair brushed your shoulder as he kissed the nape of your neck and you felt the thick head of his cock nudge against your entrance and with one slow push, he sank deep inside you.
The stretch was intense, the angle allowing him to fill you completely as a soft moan escaped your lips once he bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass.
Dean stayed buried inside you for a long moment, simply breathing with you, then he began to move in slow and deep rolling thrusts that dragged his thick cock along every sensitive inch inside you.
His body blanketed yours completely, warm skin against warm skin, sweat slowly building between you and one of his hands slid under your chest to cup your breast, while the other intertwined with your fingers on the sheets. Every thrust was measured yet loving, grinding deep while pressing you harder into the mattress in the most trusting, intimate way.
“You feel so perfect and warm,” he whispered against your ear, voice thick with emotion. His lips brushed the side of your neck, then your shoulder, placing open-mouthed kisses wherever he could reach.
You could feel his heartbeat against your back as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity of the connection. Dean’s breathing grew heavier but he kept the pace unhurried, savoring every second.
“I’ve never trusted anyone the way I trust you,” he murmured, voice cracking slightly. “Never loved anyone like this.”
The pleasure built in deep, powerful waves as every slow grind of his hips, every kiss against your skin and whispered words pushed you closer to the edge. When your orgasm finally hit, it washed over you like a long, intense and all-consuming tide.
Your walls clenched tightly around his cock as you moaned into the pillow, body trembling beneath his. Dean groaned deeply, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his thrusts became slightly deeper and more urgent, until he finally stilled and pressed as deep inside you as possible.
“I love you,” he whispered hoarsely, voice breaking with raw emotion as he came. “God, I love you so much.” Thick, hot pulses of cum filled you while he held you tightly, his entire body covering and protecting yours. He kept repeating the words softly against your skin, “I love you…I love you,” as the orgasms rolled through both of you, refusing to let go.
Some people measured the evolution of their relationship through photographs. You measured yours through the positions you'd found yourselves in, each one carrying a memory no camera could have captured and if one somehow had, it remained buried where no one else would ever find it…except for Dean whenever he needed a clearer visual to get the job done.
a/n: Comments, likes and reblogs really do mean the world and help more than you know! More stories will be added to the archive soon, so stay tuned for new content. Thank you so much for reading! 🤍
✮ Teasing Dean at a party = getting pounded in a bathroom !
you’ve been at this alllllllll night.
touching him, leaning too close for no reason, mouthing off just for the hell off. dean, rich fuck boy and now the most frustrated man at this party because of you.
dean’s jaw stayed tight. his eyes tracked you across the room like a predator sizing up prey – except you kept turning the tables, slipping out of reach, leaving him standing there with his drink going warm and his knuckles white around the plastic.
the fourth time you passed him, you let your hand brush his belt buckle, just barely. and you looked up, all innocence, and said:
“oops." followed with that innocent grin of yours.
something snapped in him.
he grabbed your wrist, not hard but firm, and pulled you into the narrow hallway leading to the bathrooms. the party thumped on behind you, but the corner was dimmer, the air thicker. he crowded you against the wall, one palm flat beside your head, the other still holding your wrist like he was keeping you from floating away.
“you think you’re real funny, don’t you?” his voice had dropped, roughened. the accent bled through stronger when he was pissed—or turned on. hard to tell which.
you licked your lips. “i think i’m hilarious.”
his laugh was short, breathless. “yeah? you think you can keep running that mouth all night?”
“i can keep running it wherever you want, di laurentis.”
that did it for his poor, half-dead patience.
he didn’t waste words. just hauled you into the bathroom, kicked the door shut, and locked it. the party noise went muffled, replaced by your heartbeat and the hum of the extractor fan. the tile was cold through your top as he pushed you back against the sink counter. his hands found your hips, gripped hard, and he pulled you against him so you could feel exactly what your teasing had done.
“see what you did?” he ground his hips forward. his cock pressed thick and hard through his jeans.
“this is your fault.”
you rolled your hips back, meeting him with a cheeky grin. “make me pay for it, then.”
he didn’t need a second invitation.
clothes flew off, fast. jeans chucked down, panties shoved aside, his cock springing free, the tip already slick. he didn’t bother building you up with fingers or tongue.
he just bent you over the sink, yanked your hips back, and pushed in without a warning.
you gasped, voice hitting a pitch that shocked you. he was big. stretching you wide, sinking deep in one smooth, merciless thrust.
that bold, teasing front you’d worn all night?
shredded.
instantly. your mouth fell open, your hands scrambling to hold onto the sink for support
“oh–fuck–dean-”
he pulled out halfway and drove back in, the slap of skin obscenely loud in the small room that it forced a flush on your cheeks.
“what was that?” he hadn’t even broken a sweat while his rhythm was already punishing. fast. deep. each impact punching a helpless noise out of you.
“you had so much shit to say out there. go on. mouth off.”
you couldn’t.
your thoughts had scattered like startled birds. all that remained was the stretch, the burn, the fullness of him splitting you open. your voice came out in fragments, broken off on every inhale.
“dean–please–please-“
“please what?” he drove deeper, hitting a spot that made your knees buckle. “use your words, princess. you were so good at them before.” he taunted, hands gripping your hips tighter.
you tried. and failed. all you had were moans—pitched and climbing higher with every stroke.
his breath was hot against your ear as he leaned over your back. “that’s it. that’s what i wanted to hear. you all broken on my cock.”
you moaned, frantic, babbling something that might have been yes and more and please all tangled together into one syllable. your walls were clenching around him, desperate and greedy. you were so wet you could hear it, the slick sounds mixing with his grunts and your wrecked breathing.
he pulled out again, this time all the way, and you whined – a desperate, embarrassing sound. you needed him back inside. needed him to finish what he started.
“shh.” dean turned you around, lifted you onto the counter, spread your legs wide. his cock was glistening with you, angry red, veins straining. he lined himself up, pressed just inside the entrance, and held there. “you want it?”
“yeah.”
“you gonna be good?”
“yes, yes, yes-”
he pushed in again, and your head fell back against the mirror with a thud. the angle was deeper like this, hitting places that made your vision go white at the edges. your mouth stayed open, sounds spilling out unbidden, a litany of his name and swear words and half-formed pleas.
he watched you come apart with dark satisfaction. his thumb traced your lower lip, catching the whimper as it escaped.
“you talk too much,” he murmured. and then he shoved two fingers into your mouth.
not gentle. not teasing. a command.
your eyes went wide, but your jaw went slack, letting him in. your tongue curled around his knuckles, tasting salt and skin and the faint beer from his hands grabbing his beer bottle so tight it squeaked. he fucked your mouth with his fingers in time with his hips.
you couldn’t speak. only moan around him, wet and muffled, drool starting to slip down your chin.
“thaaat’s better.” he groaned, watching his fingers sink in and out of your lips.
“look at you. so pretty with something in your mouth. and your little cunt’s so tight, clamping down like it’s tryna milk me dry.”
you wanted to say something clever. but all that came was a desperate sound, your thighs trembling, your eyes watering.
he kept his fingers lodged deep, pressing down on your tongue, while he hammered into you from below. the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, coiling low in your belly, ready to snap. you tried to warn him, tried to say you were close, but with his fingers in your mouth it came out as garbled sounds.
a smirk crawled onto his face, blonde hair falling over his eyes.
“yeah, you gonna come? do it. come on my dick. make a mess.”
you came before he even finished the sentence.
your whole body clenched, your cunt squeezing him in rhythmic pulses, your back arching off the mirror. the scream came out as a gurgled cry around his fingers, tears spilling down your cheeks.
dean swore, low and guttural, and kept thrusting, chasing his own finish through the aftershocks of yours. he pulled his fingers out of your mouth just in time to let you gasp, and then he was coming, buried deep, hot pulses filling you, his forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged.
for a long moment, neither of you moved.
then he pulled back, just enough to look at you – ruined, drool-smeared, teary, cock-drunk and glossy-eyed.
“still think you’re funny?”
you tried to speak. all that came out was a hoarse whisper, throat sore from the shape of his fingers.
“..fuck off.”
he laughed, low and warm, and kissed your forehead.
Still thinking about Isaac "I hate my nephew" giving his coat to Tyler "I hate my uncle" Galpin and how the kid KEPT IT
THEY'RE AT DONOVAN'S HOUSE
HE HAS CLOTHES
HE DOESN'T NEED IT
BUT HE ACCEPTED IT ANYWAY
JUST BECAUSE IT WAS A KIND GESTURE
"Hey, when you're back and detransform you can put on my coat, it's specially cold today, I'm gonna leave it out here for you. I just don't want you to get sick, because it would waste my time, not for any other reasons..." (his ass is LYING)
LIKE— 😭
I might write a short fic about it, it's so sweet and such a telling detail
girls night in where each one of us do a powerpoint presentation of our fav top 10 isaac pics and we all squeal at every single picture. then we rewatch his scenes and eat isaac night cake
you've constantly been checking out your body in the mirror all day. you had felt as if you body didn't ever, look good enough. no matter what you ate, no matter what clothes you wore to make you shape look better, nothing seemed to work.
and it felt like you kept on seeing people with the body that you wanted almost everywhere, and all you could do was look and sigh. it had gotten so bad to the point where you didn't even wanna show your body period.
you had felt water gather up in your eye ducts, pile over your lower lid then tumble down your face. as you started at your figure for what felt like the thousandth time. you felt your girlfriends hand palm your lower stomach, and rubbing it in slow loving circles.
she pressed her lips close to the crook of your neck whispering "what's the matter mama?" "tell me what's wrong"
"I don't──" you hesitate before continuing "b, I just feel so unattractive. and I just feel like my body looks so bad, and there's nothing I can do about it." you cry out at tears uncontrollably fall down from your face.
"aw. my sweet baby." billie cooed, gently wiping the tears from your cheek with her thumbs before lowering herself onto the front of the bed.
"here. come sit." billie lowly ordered, patting the space in front of her on the bed. and in front of the bed sat the mirror. as you shortly followed behind her she wrapped her arms around the tops your shoulders.
"do you want me to make you feel better my love?" she questioned tilting the side of her head.
you nodded.
"alright, anything to make my gorgeous girl feel better."
she pressed her mouth to the shell of your ear whispering "look at yourself in the mirror my love"
you setting your eyes back onto your reflection. with billie's figure pressed right behind yours.
"very good." she praised trailing kisses down the side of your neck.
"now strip for me." she lowly muttered bringing her hands to the sides of your waist.
without any hesitation you peeled your top off, and then came your sweatpants. then your panties.
"good girl." billie praised, running the her hands up the sides of your waist and onto your ribcage.
"aren't you so gorgeous?"
you nodded in response.
"do I have permission to touch you pretty girl?"
"yeah." you choke out, with a hoarse voice from crying a few minutes ago.
"very good." she growled. settling her eyes onto you're reflection her pupils dilated, but her irises were like clear light blue crystals, her stare was almost icy. like it could turn somebody to stone if they stared for long enough.
she had on some black shorts & a red tank top. her dark brown hair was tied back into a messy bun, hair slightly falling loose at the sides.
"now, here's what I want you to do." "I want you to keep your eyes on that mirror, while I ruin you?" "'kay pretty girl?"
"yes ma'am." you said in response.
"atta girl." she cooed softly into the shell of your ear, traveling her hands from your rib cage to the front of your chest. cupping the weight your breast, slowly squeezing them, lowering her thumbs to settle on your nipples.
"you're so beautiful my love."
"look at these perfect tits you have."she purred rubbing them in tight circles erupting a long drawn out moan from your throat. "that's it." "let it all out f'me" you clenched your eyes shut eyes for a few seconds before opening them and looking back into the reflection of you and your lover. she kissed your neck again.
"be a good girl and take my fingers, yeah?" she put her fingers up to your mouth signaling for you to open and suck them. so, you did just that. opening your mouth to take her fingers.
"yeah, just like that baby." she reassured, slipping her fingers into your slit, brushing your palms over your erect clit. "fuck, you're soaking wet for me, baby." she groaned against your neck groping your tits, and pumping at your folds.
your breath hitched slightly before she pumped her fingers in and out of you in a slow repeated motion. every time her palm brushed against your clit, your hips jerked forward with need & she earned yet another moan from you.
she slowly took her fingers out of your core and attached them to your clit. rubbing it in slow, delicious circles. her eyes settled on you with quiet intensity, her pale blue eyes, like shallow water, calm but hiding something sharp beneath the surface.
"look at how mesmerizing you are." "you look so pretty like this mama."
you saw yourself, spread out for your lover, her other hand wandering towards your tit, groping it again. "who's pussy is this?" she spoke through gritted teeth."t's your's billie fuck." you whimpered.
"so good f'me" she praised.
whilst her hands quickly ran over your erect clit several curses & moans poured from your lips like water. "look at that pretty pussy."
"you listen so well." she chuckles in your ear, a hand coming around to cup your breast, squeezing at the flesh and pinching your nipple. swiftly rubbing your clit side to side with the pads of her fingers.
"you like it when I fuck you like this? huh." "yeah you do" she growled against your ear.
you watched her hands go from your breasts to your necks gripping your neck not too hard & not to soft either. (wink wink) ;)
all you could do was moan in response as her fingers wildly edged your aching bundle of nerves.
"and just listen to those pretty noises you make f'me." "fuck"
"so sexy." she whispered, against your ear.
you rolled your hips in slow circles. riding against her fingers, hooking your right hand against the back of billies head and moaning over and over. until you felt a tight knot in your stomach.
"good girl—that's a good fucking girl" billie praised, her fingers pumping into you from behind. as you were positioned between her legs, you were backed against her chest, her breasts pressing to your back.
"billie──I-I think m'close."
"please, let it all out f'me."
you felt your eyes shut hard, your eyebrows furrowed as you felt a huge wave of pleasure wash over you, a wet water like liquid shot out from your core. "fuck baby." it got all over the place you even got a little on the mirror.
"oh my fucking god. give me all you got mama" "holy shit." billie responded in awe. not stopping her movements on your sensitive bundle of nerves, fucking you through the aftershocks. and making sure she got every single drop from your dripping pussy.
she hooked her fingers into your core and curled them to hit that one special spot that made you go wild, the filthy wet sound of your cunt squelching against billies fingers echoed the room.
"look at how sexy you are baby." "you're my gorgeous girl."
a/n:this was so hard to write for WHATTT. oml, anyways I really hope you liked it because i've this idea for I while I just didn't know how to make execute it the right way. I didn't think it'd be sexy enough. but yeah, I HOPE U ENJOYEDDD!!!!
me after writing allat:
TAGLIST➛@jusdolls @ilomilobabyy @cookispark @maybelu7 @bilsluvbird @emecstlk @mars245ix @etherealdiva69 @amoravelee @nessaxbills @engrvers @bunnyxslutt @wildflwrrz (comment if u wanna be added!)
