Keep Me Warm (And Touched)
Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist
Read on A03!
Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, tooth-rotting fluff, pre-established relationship, smut (fingering, oral f!receiving, p in v, creampie, body worship)
Summary/Warnings: Your body has changed. Dean still loves it all the same.
Author's Note: I love projecting. Same universe as the other Dean fam fics, but can be read in isolation. Enjoy!
Word Count: 6.9k
You never went out much to begin with. The world is loud, you’re paranoid, and you’d usually spend the whole night at the bar draping yourself over Dean anyway. It had been a claim to your own territory, and reminder to him to claim his.
He’d never minded. His arm would wrap around our waist, lips brushing over your brow every few moments, and his thumb would rub circles on your hips as you buried your face in his side. When the night ended with you laughing at every other word out of his mouth and Dean’s hands wandering to bare skin, he’d drive you back to the bunker with fingers trailing up your thigh. You’d either drag him out of the car to your room, or just give up and strip right there in the Impala.
There were a few other incidents Sam had given you the talk about—the three sitting on him while he drove incidents, the blowjob incidents, and the stairs incident—as if you were nothing but reckless teenagers.
“Dean doesn’t keep condoms in the glove compartment anymore,” he’d scolded you both, and you’d taken the wrong message, looking to Dean with a lovestruck, happy smile.
“You don’t?”
“Course I don’t.” He’d grumbled, kissing the tip of your nose and squeezing his hand on your hip. “You’re my girl, I don’t need to worry about some random chick trying to knock me up.”
You’d giggled as he kissed you fully, climbing onto his lap to deepen it. His hands had moved to tangle in your hair, his groan deep and vibrating in your chest, and you’d started to grind down onto him because he loved you, you were his girl, and he didn’t do casual sex anymore because it was all with you-
“You guys don’t use protection?” Sam had sounded like he was having a panic attack, and Dean had pulled back with a sigh.
“We use protection, Sammy, but we’re clean and she’s on the pill. Not that big a deal.” He’d looked back to you with a wiggle of his brows. “‘Less you’re trying to baby trap me, sweetheart.”
“Of course I’m trying to baby trap you.” You’d rolled your eyes, still smiling at him like an idiot. “I’m a gold digger, I thought you knew that.”
“I did.” He’d let out a dramatic breath. “I was just hoping you could love me for me one day.”
“Nope.” You’d dropped your brow to his. “All I’m in this for is your burgers and fifty identical flannels.”
Dean had leaned past you, giving Sam a smug, winning grin. “She likes my burgers.”
Sam had just made a bitch face, and shaken his head. “You guys are really gross. Please use protection, and try to make it to your own room.”
You and Dean had dismissed him, on both fronts. You’d ended up stumbling into one of the spare rooms, Dean’s hand already sliding under your dress, his shirt and belt long forgotten in the hall. The spare room hadn’t had any condoms. You’d both waved it off, and gotten down to the point of going out in the first place.
Dean pinning you to the bed, his mouth wandering and biting over your nipples, his cock driving so deep into you that everything just seemed to be made of light.
Sam lost the battle, that night, much like most other nights.
But he’d won the war.
Turned out that not using protection did indeed lead to consequences. Namely, pregnancy. And a beautiful baby girl that you’re pretty sure Sam loves more than he loves you and Dean.
He’d volunteered to watch Charlie, while you and Dean went out. But then there had been a salt and burn Garth needed him for—people tried to call Dean out for cases less, after the baby—and it had ended up just being you and Eileen. And it had been fun. Different than before, but fun.
You’d gotten hit on a lot, without Dean there to glare at anyone who tried to take you from his side. Eileen had somehow gotten less random men trying to take her home, without a ring on her finger. And you’d turned them all down the same way. You’re here with your friend, and you’ve got a family back home.
A few of them had taken it worse than others.
One of them had called you a baby-bloated bitch.
You’d just stared at him, a high ringing noise in your ears, and Eileen had dealt with the situation appropriately.
Punching him square in the face.
And it hadn’t ruin the night. The bartended had overheard the insult, and the man had gotten kicked out. Eileen had dragged you over to darts, to try and distract you. It might have worked, if the man hadn’t aimed and hit at a small, wired nerve that you’ve been trying so fucking hard to ignore.
Your body had changed. Everyone’s did, when they aged and had a baby. In the hunting community, that was seen as a miracle, because most people never got either. But you’re not that old. It was one of the reasons Dean noble dumbass Winchester had taken so long to ask you out.
He only got better, the older he got. Just a few nights ago, his head had been on your chest, and you’d run your fingers gently through his hair, smiling at every gray.
But you’re not Dean.
You’re you.
And you trust him with more than your life, but what if things have changed too much. Your lives aren’t sex marathons anymore. You have to use protection—you should’ve been in the first place, and Sam won’t stop gloating about it—because you love your daughter, but you’re a little worried Dean will give himself a heart attack if you’re pregnant while Charlie can barely even walk. Whenever you do go out, it’s to quieter dinners and movies. None of your low cut, barely-covering-your-ass dresses fit the same, anymore.
You’re not sure you could blame him, if he stopped wanting to lay his claim over you. If he still loved you, but didn’t want you. And because he loves you, he’d never say anything about it. Then it would turn into sour resentment for his needs not being met, and then he’d stop loving you, or he’d take more hunts not to look at you, and get himself killed and you’d be a widow with a baby, and you can’t really fucking breathe-
Eileen says your name softly, and the world had blurred. You hadn’t even realized.
“Do you want to go home?”
You nod weakly, taking a long, deep breath, and Eileen offers you a small smile.
“He was a dick.”
“I know.” You sign as you speak, trying to make your voice sound casual, even if Eileen can’t hear it. “I’m just tired.”
She knows you’re lying. You can see it on her face.
But she doesn’t push it. Eileen drives you home with the radio humming softly in the background, and you try to focus on your hands. The ring. Dean gave you the ring. You know he wouldn’t have if he didn’t mean it. And he says that you do this thing where you make it all big for no reason.
“Catastrophize.” You’d hummed, when he’d told you. “That’s the word you’re thinking of.”
“Yeah, that.” Dean had grinned, nipping at your lower lip. “Our baby is gonna be a genius.”
“Because I know one word?”
He’d nodded, slowly moving you onto your back, and somehow ended up with his head between your thighs.
You’d had a lot of sex, during the pregnancy. And you still have sex now.
But maybe he doesn’t want to. And he’s just afraid to tell you. And you’re going to find him jerking off to porn of younger, less damaged and fucked up women, and he’s going to tell you that you just don’t do it for him anymore-
You’re doing it again.
And Dean’s not jerking off, when you open the door to the bunker.
He’s lying on the floor, flat on his stomach, half asleep with his arms spread eagle. He’s holding a pile of coins in each upturned palm, and your daughter sitting on his back.
Not sitting. Crawling.
Grabbing a coin from one hand and crawling over Dean’s back, before going back to move another.
It might be one of the cutest things you’ve ever seen.
And it’s not smothering your anxieties, but it’s calming them. Dean’s not going to leave you. He’s lying on the cold floor just to entertain your baby. His head turns, when the door closes behind you, and he calls out your name.
He sounds exhausted. It is way later than Charlie is supposed to be up.
But you can’t be mad. It’s too good to be mad at, and you’re too tired to pretend.
“I’m home,” you call back, starting down the stairs, and Dean groan.
“Thank, god.” He mutters, dumping to coins on the floor and grabbing Charlie carefully as he rolls onto his back. “Mommy’s home.”
“Mama!” Charlie squeals, trying to push up to her feet, but she can’t really walk yet, and Dean has to keep his hold on her until you stop above them. “Mama, coins!”
She points to the floor, her perfect little face alight with joy—and no sleep—and you smile down at her.
She’s so happy. It never fails to amaze you, how this place is so haunted with people and things lost, but Charlie only ever sees the light that casts the shadows. You know it makes Dean cry sometimes, even if he pretends it doesn’t. It mostly just makes your heart seize for him.
This is what he deserves. A happy life. However he wants it.
And somehow, that’s with you.
“Coins, baby.” You lean down to pick her up, and her little fists catch on your hair in a second. “Did you break daddy?”
“She didn’t break me.” He grumbles, still flat on the floor as you stand back up. “Wouldn’t go down until you got home, sweetheart, that’s not my fault.”
“You could’ve called me-“
“Didn’t wanna ruin your night out.” He grabs your calf, pushing himself up slightly to kiss your ankle. “She’s fed and bathed, just needed mommy to get her bed. You have fun?”
“Yeah.” You sigh, looking to Charlie. If you look at Dean, he’ll see you’re lying.
And Charlie’s already half-asleep in your arms, tugging softly at your hair and yawning when you press a kiss to her head.
“You wanna go to bed, Charlie?”
“Mama go to bed.” She mumbles, and you smile.
“Can you say goodnight to daddy?”
Charlie makes a garbled sound, cut off by another yawn, and Dean squeezes your ankle.
“Night, Charlie.” He says your name, and you glance down to find him looking at you with that expression. The one with low hunger in his eyes, and a smirk that’s going to be the death of you. “Can you tell mama she looks pretty?”
“You look pretty, mama.” Charlie presses her face into your neck, and you give Dean a flat look, kicking his side lightly.
“Kiss ass.”
“Yep.” He nods, still grinning. “After she’s down, can I see what’s under the dress?”
“You know what’s under the dress, Winchester-“
“I forgot. Wanna see it again.”
He gives you the charming, roguish smirk that got you into this situation in the first place, and you sigh.
The moment from the bar won’t stop replaying in your head.
But Dean’s looking at you like he wants you, and rubbing his hand up and down your leg.
You can’t keep thinking about it. You’ll spiral again.
“Let me get her to bed first.” You mumble, and Dean nods, kissing your shin before releasing you and flopping back down on the floor. “You need help getting-“
“Nah. Go put the goblin to bed, I’m not that old yet.”
You giggle, poking him one last time with your foot before walking away. Charlie’s already half out in your arms, so it’s that be hard to get her down. You just have to turn on the baby monitor and cam—she’s been in her own room for almost two months, but Dean has it guarded better than Fort Knox—and tuck her in carefully on her back.
“Mama.” She mumbles, reaching for you, and pause, leaning back over the crib.
“Charlie, baby, wha-“
“Wolfie.”
You nod, scanning around the room before finding her little stuffed wolf lying on the floor.
“Here, honey.” You trace your fingers over her soft cheeks, and she hums, squeezing it tight to her chest. “You have fun with daddy tonight?”
She nods, yawning again before she answers. “Watched ruh roh.”
You smile. Scooby doo. “Was that your idea, or daddy’s?”
“Me.” She mumbles. “Daddy miss you.”
You press your lips together—tears stinging at your eyes—as she yawns again, eyes fluttering closed, and almost jump out of your skin when you feel Dean’s arms wrap around you.
“Fuck-“
“Sorry.” He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. “Just me, sweetheart-“
“I know.” You whack his forearm, and he just grins against your skin. “You missed me?”
Your voice is more nervous than you want it to be. You can’t really fucking help it.
“Course I missed you, baby.” He sucks on a soft spot on your throat, and you swallow you moan. “But I didn’t tell Charlie that. She’s just smart, like her mama.”
He nips at your skin, and you lean your head back on his shoulder. He’s holding you. He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t mean it.
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Winchester.” You mutter, catching his hand before it can wander under your dress.
Dean just laughs again. “I don’t know, I think it’s getting me everywhere Mrs. Winchester.”
You roll your eyes, letting Dean start to herd you out of the nursery. You can’t respond. You don’t really trust yourself to say anything at all, when Dean’s mouth is still attached to you, but the words are echoing and bouncing around your brain.
“I’m a lucky son of bitch, sweetheart.” He mutters, and you just hum, glancing back to check that Charlie is really down. “Got a smart kid, house, hot wife. Good fuckin’ apple pie life.”
He kicks the door to your room closed, pulling away from you just to turn up the baby monitor. You shift awkwardly in the center of the room as he does, trying not to focus on how cold you feel without him around you. If he leaves you, it will be like this all the time. And Charlie won’t have her dad to watch cartoons with, and she’ll miss him so much-
“You look fucking gorgeous,” Dean’s voice has dropped impossibly low, and you blink at him as he starts to walk you back to the bed. “Missed you all night, baby. Felt like a dog, waiting for you to come home.”
You swallow, your legs hitting the mattress and sending you tumbling back. Your breath hitches in a soft whine, and you can’t tell if it’s the start of tears or a needy plea for more. You certainly want more, with how he’s looking at you. All starvation, his shirt pulled over his head to reveal his broad chest. A little softer, after the baby, but still strong. He’s got better tits that you do now, and it sounds like heaven just to bury you face in his chest as he takes you however, he wants, but-
You don’t feel like something he’ll want. There are stretch marks on your hips. You’re overly sensitive lately, ready to go in about three seconds and unable to last more than ten minutes. You can never tell if you’re actually squirting, or just peeing. Your boobs are bigger than before, but they’re also heavier. Sag more, just like the skin of your thighs.
And Dean’s paused, scanning over you with a tight frown. He’s realizing it. That you’re not what he wants anymore. That you’re not the bouncy, tight woman he met when he got out of purgatory. You’re not good enough-
“Hey.” Dean mutters your name, taking your face between his hands. “What’s wrong.”
You shake your head weakly, and he sighs, kneeling down to hold your gaze.
“You’re thinkin’ so loud I can hear it, baby.” His free hand rubs slowly on your thigh, the fingers on your face wiping away tears than had started falling without your permission. “What happened.”
“Nothing.” You lean into his touch, wrapping your arms around your stomach. “‘M fine.”
He gives you a flat look. “Eileen gonna say the same thing, if I ask her?”
You glare at him, and he only raises his brows.
“C’mon, pretty girl.” His voice is gentle, even as his hands remain firm on your body. “Can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is.”
You let out a long, slow breath. You know him too well. He won’t drop it. “It’s stupid.”
“No, it’s not.”
“You don’t even know what it is-“
“I know it’s making you upset.” He shrugs. “That a hell of a lot more than enough. Tell me.”
You drop your brow down to his, squeezing your eyes shut as you force the words out. “I- I don’t know- It was just something dumb some asshole said-“
Dean tenses. “Someone said somethin’ to you-“
“Eileen already punched him.” You place your hand over his, opening your eyes to give him a pointed look. “No shooting people.”
“Wasn’t gonna shoot anyone.” He grumbles, you smile at him, and his eyes softening in a second. “What’d he say.”
“It’s really nothing-“
Dean says your name, his tone a little more firm than before, and you sigh.
“He was hitting on me. I told him I wasn’t interested, and- He called me a baby bloated bitch.”
Your voice drops off slightly at the end, gaze falling to your lap, and your words are strained in your throat. Dean isn’t saying anything. He’s gone completely still around you, grip on your tight, and you were right, he’s been looking for a reason and you just fucking handed it to him.
“I-“ You sniff, voice breaking. “I told you it was stupid, I’m sorry-“
“Eileen ID him?”
You blink up at Dean, and he’s not really looking at you. He’s got the glazed, murderous look in his eyes that’s usually limited to hunts.
“She’s got a good right hook,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Probably gave the douchebag a broken nose. He’ll need to go a hospital, get it checked-“
“Dean.” You whisper, voice still soft. “You said you wouldn’t shoot anyone-“
“That was before you told me what he said to you, sweetheart. He’s gonna be lucky if I just shoot him, talking to you like that-“
“Dean-“
“Making you fuckin’ sad and-“
“Dean.” Your voice breaks again, and he blinks at you, the angry fog clearing slightly from his eyes. “I don’t want you to shoot him, please, just- It’s not that big a deal-“
Tears start to fall again, a choked sob rising in your throat, and Dean’s eyes widen in what can only be horror.
“Son of a- Wait, baby, don’t-“ He grabs your face again, forcing your gaze on his. “I’m sorry, pretty girl, don’t cry-“
“I- I’m okay-“
“No, you’re-“ Dean cuts himself off, brow furrowing. “Fuck, sweetheart, you don’t believe him, right?”
You shrug, and Dean scowl might be enough to kill someone on its own.
He says your name, and his tone and attention together make you hiccup slightly.
“I- I’m not-“
“Sweetheart.” He grunts, and you sniff, grabbing his wrists to keep him against you. “I told you, I’m the luckiest man alive to get this with you.”
“But-“ You take a shaking breath. “You- You could have it with anyone-“
“I don’t want it with anyone.” He pulls one hand to his mouth, kissing your palm. “Just you. Doesn’t matter what some dick tells you, you’re perfect.”
“I- I’m not- I don’t look the same.“ You swallow, your tears starting to dry into only weak sounds. “You- If you want someone else-“
“Why the hell would I want someone else.” Dean sounds almost offended by the idea, his lip curling at the thought. “I got you, and you’re the best.”
“But-“
“You have any idea,” he drawls, pushing a little higher up on his knees. “How hot you are, all the damn time? It’s not fair, baby girl. Distracting.”
You shake your head, but Dean doesn’t stop, leaning in a little closer.
“Every single day, I don’t think you any get sexier. And you keep fuckin’ proving me wrong.”
“But- My- my body-“
“Perfect.” He says it firmly, hand wandering up your thigh, and you blink at him. He doesn’t understand.
“I- I cum in three seconds now, Dean-“
“I know.” His grin is almost predatory. “It’s fucking awesome.”
You flush, and Dean leans forward, brushing his lips lightly over yours.
“Lemme show you how perfect you are, sweet girl.” He dips his hand under your dress, thumb running over the damp spot on your underwear, and your breath hitches. “I always take care of you, right? Always make you feel good?”
“Yeah.” You mumble, reaching up to hold his face, shaking your head. “De, you don’t have to-“
“I want to.” His voice is almost a growl, and you feel sort of dizzy. “Would love to taste this pretty pussy, gets better every time. Can I, baby?” He kisses you deeply, right as he starts to rub slow circle around your clothed clit. “Please?”
His tone is a little taunting, and you don’t care. He knows what he’s doing. Knows that you’re already putty in his arms, that there’s no world that you don’t let him take what he wants. And he’s waiting for it. For you to give him the clear. Dean draws back with a smirk, holding your gaze as his thumb drags up and down your underwear, flicking when he reaches your clit.
“Words, sweetheart.” He hums, rubbing his free hand up and down your thigh. “You know I need words.”
You nod weakly. “Yes. I- Yes.”
“Yes to what?”
“You make me feel good.” You breathe out, reach up to grab his face as he hooks his fingers on your underwear, slowly starting to drag it down your legs. “You take care of me, Dean. Please- Please take care of me-“
Your words fall to a moan as he starts to kiss over your shoulder, abandoning your underwear around your ankles to tug your dress over your head.
“Whatever you want, beautiful.” He mutters, pinching and rolling a nipple between his finger, an almost feral grin overtaking his face as your mouth falls open. But you can feel it everywhere. His hand moving out from between your legs to hold you upright, as his mouth dives down to suck on your other nipple, never ceasing his movement on the first.
He kisses and sucks over your chest, all while squeezing at your tits, and it’s going to drive you out of your fucking mind. The ache between your legs is growing and growing, every flick of Dean’s tongue sending little lightning bolts through your body until you’re grinding onto the sheets, trying to chase some form of release as Dean builds you higher.
“Oh-“ You moan when he palms at your breast, starting to slowly kiss his way down your stomach. “Dean- More-“
“I know,” he mutters, lips pressed on your inner thigh as he speaks. “Just be patient, sweetheart, I got you.”
You try to roll your hips up, until his face, but he just keeps traveling down. Watching you under hooded eyes, as he makes his way past your knee and down your calf, finally helping you fully out of your underwear before shoving your legs apart.
“So wet.” His voice is deep, as he settles himself between your legs. That combined with his breath, ghosting over your pussy, almost makes you cum on its own. “Never seen such a needy pussy, sweetheart, you’re just achin’ for it, aren’t you.”
You whimper, nodding frantically, and Dean laughs, kissing on your inner thigh again. Sucking a tiny, possessive mark before soothing it with his tongue, amusement and starvation dancing in his eyes as your breathing grows shallow.
“Ready, baby girl?” He winks at you, pressing an almost chaste kiss over your clit. “Don’t hold back.”
You blink at him, not really understanding the order, but you don’t get time to question it. Dean dives into your pussy, starting to eat you out with just as much hungry fervor as the first time you found him between your legs, and you understand.
There’s a loud, desperate and lewd sound that tears out of you, when his tongue starts to plunge in and out of your cunt. Another, higher one follows—meant to be a gasp of his name—when he licks a firm stripe up your cunt, before diving back in. Everything in your is already on fire, it’s only a minute or so before you’re right on the edge.
But Dean said don’t hold back.
So when his stubble scratches your thighs and his tongue curls up inside of you, you let release crash through you like a wave. It’s blissful, making your toes curls and your thighs slam around Dean’s head, and you almost float back down.
Almost.
But he doesn’t stop.
You’re suffocating him, but he just squeezes his hold on you, and pulls yours pussy closer to his face. A second orgasm rockets you back up in a second, and when you grab at his hair—a little longer than usual, just enough to tangle your fingers between—and pull, he growls against you.
That’s a third one. And the world is starting to spin, with the pleasure. You grab one of your own tits, playing with your nipple as he just keeps going, and at this point, the hands massaging on your waist are the only things keeping you from falling backwards.
“Dean-“ You gasp, yanking at his hair again and shuddering when his groan vibrates between your legs. “Dean-“
He shoves your knees back apart and you whine, not sure if you’re trying to get closer to his mouth or further away.
“Dean, I- I can’t-“
You take a sharp breath as he bites at your clit, and Dean smirks, pulling back with a reverent, clouded gaze.
“You can.” He drawls, wiping his chin with two fingers. “Shit, you taste like fucking heaven.” He licks his fingers clean, holding your gaze, and you make a garbled noise of need. “Never gonna get enough, baby. Fuck-“
He crashes back over you, grabbing your face as he moves you back on the mattress. You can taste yourself, on his tongue, and it only makes you moan loud.
“Need more, baby. You’re gonna take more.”
You nod, a little dazed. If Dean says you can do something, you can do it. He’s rarely been wrong about that kind of stuff.
“There you go.” He mutters, kissing the space between your eyes as you relax below him. “Just take it, sweet girl. Doin’ so good for me.”
A soft sound leaves you at the praise, and Dean rises back up on his knees. He pulls his shirt over his head and sheds his own pants and underwear, before grabbing your ass and angling it up, hooking your knees over his shoulders. He splays one hand over your lower back, keeping you up, and your pussy is only inches from his lips once more. There’s a second where the position is uncomfortable, and you’re blinking up at him with a small frown.
Then Dean shoves two fingers deep into your cunt, latches his lips around your cunt, and you’re flying right out of your body.
There’s not a single nerve in your body that isn’t on fire. You’re bucking up into him as his tongue presses flat against you and he sucks, trying to wiggle away from every relentless thrust of his fingers, but it’s useless. You’re trapped against him, grabbing hopelessly at your sheets for some hope of grounding yourself, and trembling as another orgasm shakes your body. Dean picks up the speed, starting to leave quick, teasing licks on your clit, and every sound that escapes you is almost inhuman.
There’s nothing in your body but pleasure anymore, and the same repetitive song of Dean.
Your mouth falls open, as his teeth graze over you, and his fingers crook right on that deep, spongey spot inside of you. There’s a heat, building up in your core that’s molten and almost painful. When you tryin to warn him, it only comes out as a moan, and he doesn’t break for a second.
“I- I’m gonna-“ You reach up for him, and he just sucks harder, making fall back down. “Dean-“
He presses his fingers firmly up, still rubbing on your g-spot without relenting his assault on your clit, and the heat explodes. Rushes through your whole body as you spasm in his hold, your arms flying and high gasps of his name falling from your lips.
Something wet is running down your ass, and Dean’s face is shining when he finally lets you go. He doesn’t bother to clean it up, before he’s crawling back over you to give you a soft, gentle kiss.
“So close, baby.” He hums, stroking his hand gently through your hair. “Almost there. You want it all?”
It takes a second for your brain to catch up on what he means. You don’t know if you can take it all. But fuck, with how he’s looking at you, it would be nice to try.
“All.” You whisper, and Dean grins like he just won a prize.
“Good girl.” He kisses you again, then pulls back up.
You don’t have any strength left to fight him, as he flips you over and pulls your ass back into the air. You can only bury your face in the sheets, trying to focus on how they smell like Dean, and not sweat and cum. He kisses slowly up your spine, until you’re fully relaxed, legs spread in his lap for him to do as he pleases.
“You got no idea.” He growls from above you, rubbing your ass slowly before landing a firm slap. “Just how fuckin’ perfect you are.”
A moan is all you can answer with, and Dean chuckles, landing another sharp hit before dragging his fingers back up and down your pussy.
“When I met you, I thought there was never gonna be anyone better.” He drawls, this time spanking your pussy before tease his fingers over your soaked, fluttering entrance. “But I was wrong. Because every single freakin’ year, you just get more and more beautiful. Maybe I need to knock you up again, see if it’ll make you so perfect just the sight of you makes me cum in my pants, like a damn teenager.”
You whine, and Dean rubs his knuckles over your swollen clit, before dragging them back down to your cunt.
“You know I just a semi, just when I think about you?” He won’t stop talking. You’re going to maybe cum from just his words. “I’d have to lose my damn mind to leave you, baby girl. If I ever try, shoot me, cause that ain’t me, that’s a fuckin’ shifter.”
He slaps your ass again, and you can feel your arousal sliding down your thighs.
“Dean.” You mumble, trying to twist around to pout at him. “Stop teasing-“
“Not teasing, sweet girl.” He rolls his thumb in circles around your clit, and you have to bury your face in the mattress when he hits your pussy again. “Just tryin’ to get you to see you how I see- Huh.”
You pause, the silence stretching on longer than you’d want. You’re ready to flip back over and question him, when he mutters your name, kissing the small of your back.
“Love you. So fuckin’ much.” His arm wraps back around your stomach. “Hold on.”
Dean hauls you back up against his chest, before turning you both around so he’s leaning on the headrest of his bed. Your mouth falls open as he sinks you onto his thick cock, eyes rolling back in your head at the feel of him bumping and pressing against every sensitive, abused and ruined place inside of you. One of his arms stays wrapped around you, keeping you tight against him as his hand rests on your abdomen, and the other wanders up your chest. He plays with your breasts before wrapping his hand around your neck, and forcing your attention forward.
Onto the mirror.
You freeze, avert your gaze, but Dean doesn’t loosen his hold, still kissing over and bare skin he can reach.
“Dean- Dean, the-“
“Yeah, I know.” He turns your face away briefly, to meet his eyes, and it almost knocks you out. How there’s nothing but devotion and adoration behind them. How he still looks at you like you’re the only real thing in the world. “You trust me?”
You don’t hesitate before you nod, and Dean smiles. Kisses you one time—long and deep, with his tongue down your throat and a deep rumble of pleasure from his chest—before thrusting suddenly up, and laughing at your noise of surprise.
“Still feel so fucking good,” he growls into your mouth, and you’re loose in his arms once more. “Squeezing my cock just right, fucking made for me.”
You can’t answer, and Dean thrusts up again, starting to set a slow, torturous pace. Dragging through your pussy until you’re alight with desire, the only sounds in the room the slapping of his balls on your ass and the wet noise of his cock, driving in and out of your pussy.
“My perfect girl, always takin’ me so well.” Dean squeezes lightly on your throat, emphasizing each worked with another thrust, and your nails dig into his forearm. “So cockdrunk you can’t even talk, baby? Can’t think anything about how fuckin’ good you feel?”
You nod feverishly, clenching around him, and Dean groans.
“Jesus- You’re something.” He says it like you’re everything, and you whimper, writhing in his arms. Dean pinches your clit, and you almost scream. “That’s right, sweet girl. Cum for me, soak my fuckin’ cock.”
Starlight and fireworks flash behind your eyes as you find your last, most powerful release, and Dean grabs your jaw, forcing your gaze back to the mirror.
And you can do nothing but watch, as you cum in his arms. It’s a portrait of some more than sin. Your skin flushed, lips swollen and mouth hanging open. Eyes lidded and glassy with pleasure, as Dean just keeps rutting up into you. You can see your pussy, gushing and squeezing around him, watch as his cock slides in and out. Glance up to see Dean himself, attacking your neck with kisses, then trail down your body to see every tiny mark he’s left littered over your skin. His hand covers your throat competently, and his hand on your clit is rubbing in a blur, and you shake as this orgasm crests into another.
Dean slams home with a roar of your name, and you can’t look away from where he’s buried deep inside of you, thrusting unevenly against your g-spot and rubbing your clit to keep you fluttering around him. Cum starts to run between where your bodies are connected, and you’ve never felt so fucking full in your life.
You look almost like art, with him. Like this. You feel holy, with how he’s holding you, how you look like some sort of ruined queen, sitting against Dean’s chest.
You feel like a goddess.
It’s all you can really feel, as you float back down. Dean. Inside you and around you, muttering low praise in your ear as you slump against him. Kissing over your neck in comfort, before slapping your clit and making your back arch. A high whine leaves your throat, and he chuckles at you squirm in his arms, grabbing your chin and angling it to meet his gaze.
“Feel better?”
“Yeah.” You whisper, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Don’t.” He kisses you, open mouthed and lazy, and you reach up to curl your fingers on his cheek. “Love you, baby. Never gonna love you less because of your body. Which, to be real damn clear, is perfect.”
You hum against his lips. “Okay.”
He draws back with a small frown. “You believe me-“
“I believe you.” You whisper, giving him a soft smile. “I love you, too. So I’m thank you anyway.”
Dean grunts, pressing a small, softer kiss to the corner of your mouth before hauling you off his cock.
“C’mon, sweetheart.” He grunts, guiding you to your feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
You make a soft sound of agreement, mostly sitting in the warmth of Dean’s body around yours. After he pulls on his boxers his hands find your sides, and he steers you to the bathroom. The warmth of his chest, pressed to your back, and his mouth ghosting over the top of your head. He sits you on the toilet before shuffling over to the sink, and grabbing your toothbrush.
“I can’t brush on the toilet, De-“
“Just gettin’ it ready,” he mutters, setting is down on the counter before returning to stand above you.
He grabs your face between his hands as you pee, and you suddenly feel naked. The light is low, but not enough that he can’t see everything, and you’re peeing, and maybe this is what makes him walk away-
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” He mutters, thumb trailing over your lips, and the nerves fall peacefully back down. You open your mouth mindlessly, and Dean groans as your tongue flicks over the pad of his finger. “You’re aiming for round two, baby, aren’t you.”
You give him a sweet smile. “Maybe.”
His nostrils flare, hand gliding to the back of your neck, he leans down to give you a firm, hungry kiss.
“Charlie’s gonna be up too early.” He mutters, free hand wandering down to palm at your breasts. “But Sammy’ll be back, and he can take her out so we can do stuff to each other.”
You giggle, biting his lower lip. “Stuff?”
He nods, drawing back up with a wink. “I’m gonna do the thing.”
“Oh.” You flush, thighs pressing together at the glinting promise in his eyes. “Okay.”
Dean puffs out his chest slightly, flicking your nose before letting you focus on wiping. When you’re done, he helps you over to the sink—you can walk just fine, even with the soreness, but you think it makes him feel better, so you indulge it—and hangs around your body before you both return to the bedroom. You take the shirt Dean tosses you, as he pulls on his own sweatpants. But when you try to put on your underwear, he stops you. Scoops you up bridal style and tosses you down onto the bed with a wide grin, before prowling over your body.
“Dean-“ Your breath hitches, and he pulls his sweats and boxers down, starting to stroke his cock with a smug smirk. “You said we needed to sleep-“
“I know what I said,” he shrugs, leaning down to kiss your cheek, then whispering in your ear. “I’m not fucking you again, baby. Just want to feel you.”
You blink at him, and that would be two times in one night that you’re ignoring all the lessons learned about protection and it leading to tiny, perfect gremlins. But Dean’s looking at you like a man starved. And it makes you feel like you might just be the perfect thing he claims you are.
It doesn’t really matter if you are, though.
Just as long as Dean thinks so.
“What if Charlie-“
“I can get up for her,” he murmurs, peppering kisses over your neck, and you wrap your arms around his neck with a sigh.
“Okay.”
Dean pushes a little back up. “You don’t have to, sweetheart-“
You roll your hips up to meet him, and he cuts himself off with a grunt.
“Less talking.” You mutter, and he nods, running his hands slowly over your pussy as he settles over you.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Dean slides back inside of you, kissing you until everything feels soft, and you’re molded right into his body. His weight drops carefully over yours, with only a second of adjustment until you’re folded carefully into his arms and he’s kissing over your neck.
“Night, baby.” He mutters, and you hum, brushing your fingers through his hair.
“Good night.” You let your eyes flutter closed as Dean’s breath starts to even out, and sleep starts to pull you down with him.
The feeling of him pressed into you is mostly just a heavy comfort. It’s still consuming, but it’s right there with the exhaustion. Just peaceful. Dean fitting perfectly inside of you. Close. As connected as you can possibly be, with his breath warm over your skin and his hands resting possessively on your body.
He’s holding you like he’s never going to let go.
And if the sweet, light aftermath of the night, you know he never will.
End Note: Once again explaining that I need him in a way that's concerning to feminism.
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