One piece of advice that will change your life. DO NOT OVERSHARE YOUR GOOD NEWS, and you’ll notice this is true because think of the last time you shared something and it created a ripple in the room. Your good news shifted the energy. You sensed something. And it’s usually the ones closest to you. The friend that was desperate to find out about your new man, then smiled through you telling her how he spoilt you like crazy, and you SENSED something, but couldn’t put a finger to it. Or you overshared your wins and things suddenly collapsed out of nowhere. And here’s what actually happens, the demons living inside others get activated. They get jealous, they get envy and the more people you share with the more opposing energy you are up against, and that’s how something so pure as getting your dream job or client is now a spiritual battlefield. So how do you resolve this. You share only with people you absolutely trust, and in the right time. It might only be one friend, but the friend constantly failing in relationships will likely struggle with your engagement news, the friend financially at a loss will likely struggle to hear you secured six figure clients and its that subtle shift to be wary of. So take inventory of those moments in the past when you’ve noticed this shift, and know these are the people you protect your good news from like your life depends on it, because the sabbotage is real.
Another year, another Kinktober event! It’s been a while since I posted anything, but I wanted y’all to know that I’m working on fics and planning ahead as we speak. Very excited for this year’s challenge. We put together an awesome Kinktober and Fictober list over at @fanficwritersofthespnfandom. Please take a look at the information post and join more fun challenges in our Discord Server here.
As always, please read each warning beforehand and stay spooky.
LINKS: Supernatural Masterpost [𖤐] Fictober 2026 Masterpost [𖤐] Join the Hunt Taglist [𖤐] Request [𖤐] Ao3 [𖤐] Dividers by @cafekitsune [𖤐] Header by me
××──Day X──💕
PAIRING:
WORD COUNT:
SUMMARY:
READ HERE: Tumblr — Ao3
Want to be added to the taglist? Fill out this >FORM<
Want to be removed from the taglist? Send a DM
Not sure if you're on the taglist? Check here
𝒯AGS ⸝⸝ 𝓦ARNINGS ˖ 18+ smut no plot sub! Dean handjób blowjóbs flavored condóms cowgirl slight 69 orgásm denial
navigation ◞ rules ◞ dean winchester list 📨
Dean Winchester has a reputation to maintain; a whole macho image wrapped up...
Well, you know something about Dean that Dean barely admits to himself in the dark hours past three a.m. and it is that the man loves it when you take control; not in the performative "yeah, climb on, sweetheart" he offers like he's doing you a favor.
No, he comes apart at the seams when you're on top of him, when your hands pin his wrists, when your weight presses him down and your hips dictate the pace.
There's something in the way his green eyes go glassy and his mouth falls open, jaw slack, like every wall he's ever built comes crumbling down brick by brick.
Because you know.. he tries to play it cool about it, like he's the one running the show even when you're riding him so hard the headboard leaves dents in the drywall.
Oh, but you see him, all of him.
The vending machine outside Room 12 of the Pinecrest Motel buzzed and hummed as you were crouched in front of it, squinting at the panel of options when Dean strolled up behind with his arms crossed and a insufferable grin.
"Whatcha doing, sweetheart?"
"Looking for condoms." Plain and to the point.
"Bold of you to assume that machine has anything worth buying." He leaned over your shoulder, reading the labels. "Glow-in-the-dark? What are we, thirteen at a sleepover?"
"They have flavored ones too." You tapped the glass. "Strawberry. Chocolate. Grape."
"You know, back in '04, I tried the glow-in-the-dark ones, it looked like I was waving a lightsaber around in bed.."
"Dean." "What? It's romantic. Star Wars is romantic!"
You looked at the machine again. Strawberry, chocolate, grape, mint, orange, vanilla, banana, bubblegum — and glow-in-the-dark.
You pressed every single button and the machine clunked, dispensing its entire stock into the tray below.
You gathered the small foil packets into your hands, a whole rainbow of flavors stuffed into your jacket pockets, and smiled to yourself.
The motel room door had barely clicked shut behind you before Dean's mouth found yours. Sam was out — gone on a solo salt-and-burn three states over, which meant the two of you had the room to yourselves for once. No careful quiet or stifling sounds into the pillows, it's just you and Dean and the whole night stretching ahead.
You kissed him back, fingers curling into the front of his flannel, tugging him closer. His lips were everything you loved; soft but insistent, slightly chapped from the dry air, tasting faintly of the cheap diner coffee he'd been nursing all evening.
By the time you made it to the bed, clothes were gone— shed between the entrance and the mattress in a trail.
His skin was warm under your hands, shoulders flexing as he pushed you to the edge of the bed, but you pushed back, flipping him onto his back with a firm hand on the chest for him to be the one laying on bed.
"My turn tonight," you murmured against his mouth.
He exhaled a laugh. "M' not complaining."
His cock is half-hard beneath you, pressed against your inner thigh, and you can feel the heat of him, the weight. You grind down once, just barely, he groans into your mouth, his fingers tightening on your hips.
"Fuck, sweets—"
"Patience," you murmur against his lips.
You kissed him again, your tongue sliding against his, and began working the way down. His jaw, the spot below his ear, the tendon in his neck, the hollow of his throat.
Lower. His collarbone. Much lower. His chest, where you dragged your lips, feeling his heartbeat kick up under your mouth.
Lower still.
You dragged your mouth down his stomach, following the trail of hair below his navel, and settled between his thighs.
His cock lay against the thigh, half-hard, and brushed your lips over it, a ghost of contact, before reaching for the nightstand.
Dean propped himself up on his elbows, watching with hazy curiosity as you pulled out the entire stash of condoms you'd bought from the vending machine.
Strawberry, chocolate, grape, mint, orange, vanilla, banana, bubblegum— all of them fanned out on the sheets like a goddamn sampler platter.
"What the hell are you doing with those?"
"Tasting flight," you said cheerfully. "Like wine tasters!"
He passed his hand over your hair and smiled. "You're out of your mind."
"And you're going to love it. Lie back."
He opens his mouth, probably to argue, but you wrap your hand around the base of his cock and squeeze, whatever he was going to say dies in a groan and drops back against the pillow.
"Aww aren't you a good guy?"
"Shut up," he mutters as his hips jerk in your grip, giving him away.
You tear open the strawberry wrapper first. The latex is pink and thin and smells faintly of artificial fruit as you roll it down his length, smoothing it over him with such deliberate slowness you think Dean might tell you to fuck off.
He's fully hard now, the condom stretched tight, and you look up at him through your lashes before leaning in.
Your lips wrap around the tip, sucking gently at first; the tongue swirls over the flavored surface, tasting the fake sweetness mixed with the warmth of his own skin beneath.
Bit by bit you take him deeper, bobbing the head, hollowing the cheeks to create that tight suction he loves. His cock throbs in your mouth, growing even more rigid as you work him with wet, slurping sounds that fill the quiet room.
"Fuck— fuck, that's—" His voice cracks, hands fisting in the sheets.
You hum around him, a low vibration, and his abs clench like someone has zapped him with a live wire.
But then you pull off, letting him feel every inch of the release, and press a kiss to the tip. His cock bobs against his stomach, the pink latex slick with your spit.
"Strawberry," you announce, licking your lips. "Solid seven out of ten! A little synthetic, but pleasant overall."
"You're reviewing them?"
"Obviouslyyy. How else are we going to make a decision for next time?"
You were already reaching for the chocolate one and rolling it down him.
This time you start with your hand, stroking him, thumb pressing over the head in a circular motion that makes his hips buck just to lean in and press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the tip, the tongue flicking out to taste.
The chocolate flavor is richer, pretty believable, and take your time, licking a long stripe up the underside before swallowing him halfway.
"Jesus... keep doing that— you're amazing love.."
You did keep doing that, for a moment of course, just to pull off in the end.
Gods, right at the edge! You could feel it in the way his cock swelled, the way his thighs went rigid— and you pulled fucking off, letting him go with a wet pop.
"Chocolate," you say, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Eight out of ten. Creamy, good depth of flavor!"
Dean made a sound that was between groan and whine. His cock twitched, angry and flushed beneath the latex. He was close— you could see it in the way his muscles kept clenching and how he was sweating.
You peeled the condom off and reached for grape. "Already close? But we're just starting!"
The third time you roll a condom on him and lower your mouth, Dean's hands shoot out, fingers threading into your hair, gripping hard.
He tries to push your head down, hips thrusting up, and for a moment you let him— let him fuck up into your mouth, the tart grape flavor coating your tongue as you deepthroat him.
Oh, but you know he needs some manners and you pull back, grabbing his wrists, his eyes are wild, desperate, pupils blown and swallowing that green you love.
"Ah-ah," you say. "Hands to yourself."
You reach for his belt, discarded on the bed, and pull it through the loops with a sharp snap of leather. Dean's eyes track the movement, and something shifts in his expression.
Well, Dean was probably more than turned on because he had his girl on top of him.
"Arms up."
He raises his arms above the head, and you loop the belt around his wrists, threading it through the slats of the headboard and buckling it tight. He tests the give— not much. His biceps flex, the tendons in his forearms standing out, but the belt holds.
"How's that?" you ask.
"Unfair," he rasps. "You're unfair."
You go back to grape without giving answer and Dean promises himself to fuck up your cunt once you're done with the nonsense.
You take him deep, gagging around his length, drool running down your chin, and his wrists yank against the belt, the leather creaking. His abs are trembling, his chest heaving, and when you feel him getting close— so fucking close once more— you pull off.
"Grape is a five out of ten. Mmm too sour, leaves a weird aftertaste."
"I hate you," Dean chokes out, his cock is leaking through the condom, hips still chasing your mouth.
Mint was next. The cool sensation hit your tongue and his cock simultaneously, making him jolt. You sucked him slow, lazy, one hand wrapped around the base while your mouth worked the top half. His thighs were trembling continuously now, is aconstant vibration, and every few seconds his hips would buck up involuntarily, chasing more friction.
"Please," he said, his voice had gone rough from the small groans and moans. "Please, I'm so close —"
"Mint is six out of ten. Refreshing, weirdly tingly.. like brushing your teeth."
"I swear to God —"
Orange. You rolled it on, stroked him twice with a tight grip, then licked a long stripe from base to tip. His head fell back, throat working, a broken sound escaping him.
"Orange. Two out of ten, plastic acidic. No notes."
Vanilla and bubblegum went and go,the same thing, suck, stroke, review. The guy was shaking constantly, wrists straining against the belt, knuckles white.
He was losing the ability to form sentences, and you had one more to go yet.
Banana.
You tore open the packet, rolled it on, and then, instead of going down on him like he expected, you swung your leg over his chest and settled your pussy right over his face.
Your underwear was still on, with damp silk pressed against your swollen pussy, feeling the heat of his breath through the fabric as you settled.
"What—" Dean started, and you pressed down, cutting him off.
"You want to come sooo badly," you said, reaching to wrap your hand around his cock, stroking him, feeling him twitch in your grip. "Then be good and eat me properly. Show me you deserve it."
He groaned against your cunt, nosed the fabric aside, tongue dragging through the slick, swollen folds, and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning.
He was sloppy with it — desperate, uncoordinated, licking into you like a man dying of thirst. His mouth found your clit and sucked, and you clenched your jaw, determined not to give him the satisfaction.
He was panting hot air against your folds, whimpering between strokes, his mouth working frantically while his hips fucked up into your hand.
You stroked him lazily, such mismatched rhythms; his tongue was frantic and begging, but your hand slow and controlled.
You kissed the tip of his cock through the condom, then poked at it with your finger, watching it bounce. Played with him. Tugged gently. Pressed your thumb against the sensitive underside while his hips jerked wildly.
"You're doing so well," you murmured, though you weren't sure he could hear you over his own desperate panting.
You kissed his cock again, lips lingering on the head, then gave him a long stroke that made his back arch off the mattress.
He was sobbing into your pussy, literally sobbing! Wet, muffled sounds of desperation as his tongue worked overtime, sliding through your folds, circling your clit, dipping inside you as better it could.
He was good at this, he was always good at this, and you could feel the pressure building low in your belly, heat coiling tighter with every pass of his mouth.
Your own arousal was dripping down, mixing with his spit, and the wet sounds of his mouth on you were almost as obscene as the sounds of your hand on his overstimulated cock.
You pulled off his face.
His face was slick with you, flushed red, eyes glazed and desperate. A broken sound left him between your name and a prayer.
"Banana," you said, breathless. "Eight out of ten. Bonus points for the amazing view you gave."
"Wait—" He gasped. "I was close.. was gonna make you—"
"I know." You swung your leg back over, settling between his thighs again.
The flavor was cloying, sickly sweet, and you scrunched your nose as you sucked.
God, you loved this. Loved the weight of him on your tongue, how he throbbed against the roof of your mouth, the sounds he couldn't stop making. You were a cock lover through and through, and Dean's was your absolute favorite.
You worked him with everything — mouth, both hands, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowed, taking him deep enough to gag and then pulling back to kiss the tip, then taking him deep again.
His whole body was rigid, every muscle locked, tears actual tears tracking down his temples into his hair."Please babe, please, I can't— I need—"
His face twisted with the agony of being denied eight times in a row. His wrists were raw from pulling against the belt, and his cock was so hard it looked painful, flushed deep red beneath the banana latex.
You reached up and untied the belt. His hands dropped immediately to your body as you took his cock in your hand— firm grip, steady strokes— and leaned down to kiss the tip through the condom one last time while working him.
"Cum for me," you said against the head of his cock, and that was all it took.
He came in about twelve seconds.
The sound he made was a wrecked, broken shout that bounced off the motel walls.
His cock pulsed in your hand, shooting thick ropes as you guide it keeping the stroking.
"That's it! Sooo good, Dean. You did so well."
He made a mess, the cum filling the condom, spilling over your fingers where the latex slipped, streaking his stomach. You kept your hand moving, milking him through the aftershocks until he whimpered and finally let go.
"You," he breathed into your hair, "are fucking crazy."
"Pfft you liked it."
You laughed against his skin, feeling the rapid hammer of his heart slowing beneath your cheek. His hand came up to rest on the small of your back, thumb tracing idle circles.
But you weren't done.
You pulled back from his chest, reaching over him to grab the last packet from the nightstand... The one you'd been saving.
The glow-in-the-dark one.
Dean cracked one eye open. "What is that?"
"Hold still."
His cock was soft, twitching feebly as you rolled the fluorescent-green condom down over him. In the dim light of the motel room, it started to glow faintly; a ghostly luminescence that made his dick look like it came out of a sci-fi movie.
"Mmhmm." You straddled his hips, your pussy still puffy and slick from his mouth pressing against his cock.
You ground down slowly, feeling him stir beneath you, the smooth latex sliding through your folds. His mess from earlier was still on his stomach, cooling against your thighs as you rocked against him.
"You didn't think we were done, did you?" You rolled your hips, grinding your clit against the length of him. He groaned, hands finding your waist, fingers digging in. "You've had your fun."
His cock was hardening again beneath the condom, filling out as you dragged your wet cunt over him. The glow-in-the-dark latex caught the light every time you moved, casting a faint green glow up between your bodies.
"After all," you said, reaching down to position him at your entrance, the tip pressing into you, "I haven't been properly fucked yet."
Dean's grip on your hips tightened, he looked up at you with reverence and desperation.
All that macho act was completely gone, replaced by pure want.
