𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓉.
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : dean winchester x fem!reader.
𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬 & 𝐜.𝐰 : ❝ dean being a freak. aka dean winchester not being a pussy and eating pu- ❞ ⫶ +18 MDNI. explicit. oral sex (f receiving), nasty makeout, boner, nudity, an unhealthy amount of mentions of the words sweat, tongue, and spit. absurdly long. i think that's it. + english is not my first languageee be kind, please.
You swear Dean has a thing for the smell of your sweat. For the scent of your skin after it turns filthy and sticky.
Or whatever is it that he sees in you after you're both back from a hunt, sweaty and blood-splattered, because there hasn't been a single time where he hasn't dropped everything in the moment he steps a foot inside the motel room, shut it behind the both of you, leaving you to deal with his desperate hands.
This time, try as you might, it couldn't be any different.
It's been a hectic night. Your body is sore. You can't twist your wrist to a certain angle, and you feel like your hips are about to detach from your sacral vertebrae.
But Dean's already moved behind you.
His big, strong, and roughed up hands, the same ones he uses to kill so ruthlessly, land on your waist, squeezing greedily. Then they slide down to get to your hips, wielding them in the same way he aims his shotgun.
Difference is he won't feel any guilt after using you.
"I love it when you're warm like this," He mumbles against the damp skin of the side of your neck, mouth creeping up and opening to lap his tongue all over that spot behind your ear. "makes me wanna fuck whatever I can find of you first."
You hum, breathless and easily brought down, that pleasant tingling sensation already simmering under your skin.
He knows how you like to be talked to. Knows the way his voice is prone to stir something in your lower belly.
You're not even fighting him—not when his hands are easing themselves under your t-shirt—, but you know you've already lost.
Flesh has needs, and that is all that you are. Flesh and achy bones. Supple, and weak, as your head's growing hot and light around him and the effects of his spit mingling with your transpiration.
"Dean–" You huff, the words you were planning on saying sneaking out of your brain and rolling under the king sized bed when he cups your breasts over your bra, squeezing as if he were feeling them for the first time.
He sighs over the sound you make, low and pathetic, letting his fingers gather the droplets trickling down your cleavage, and takes them to his mouth to lick it off.
It makes you shiver.
You try to persevere, fruitlessly.
"Dean, let me at least take a shower first." You attempt to complain, again, but it's only halfhearted.
Your shirt goes off smoothly and lands on the probably dirty rug, and the little fight you still had in you leaves your body the moment he turns you around to crash his lips against your, his tongue breaking into your mouth. It's brutal and it's mellow and it already has your panties drenched.
He grabs you by the face before you can trip back with the force of his need, the heels of his hands kneading softly into your cheeks.
"Don't wanna." He breathes against your teeth, still kissing you. It's messy, his spit smearing over the corners of your mouth.
"I wanna eat you out just like this." As if he's already imagining the taste of you lying on his tongue, one of his hand comes down to eagerly pull the button of your jeans open. Dean doesn't lose any more time before he's making his way inside your panties, finding you sticky and so, so warm.
"God, I'm gonna devour this pussy. Gonna take care of her so good. My pussy."
He's getting dizzy. You're so worked up you're sure the brush of his fingers over your swollen clit could make you come.
"God, I've barely even touched you." He breathes out with a long, slow stroke up and down, awed at the way you're already dripping for him.
Dean doesn't give you any time to reply when he brings you down onto the bed with him, his clothed crotch pushing against your half-bared sex.
You moan. He can't hold it anymore.
With the initiative of a man on a mission and the languor of someone who has all the time in the world, Dean yanks the denim down your legs, struggling briefly with your boots, but he succeeds, letting them lay along with your shirt on the sketchy carpet.
The room is not cold, but you still bristle.
When you're only in your underwear and Dean can take a close-up of the soaked cotton of your panties, he sighs like he's been given nourishment after starving for forever.
And when you think he's about to relieve the ache between your legs, he leans down to lick soft stripes from your mound to your belly button, dawdling around instead of finishing what he started.
You feel like nudging his head back down. You feel like whimpering.
And Dean knows, he knows. But, can you blame him? He just wants to put his mouth all over your body, scrub the blood clean off of you with his tongue, make sure he won't waste this.
Oh, don't you look at him like that.
"Can you be patient for me?" Dean whispers against your skin at the same time he reaches your bra, pushing it upwards and circling his tongue around your left nipple. You twitch, your back arching upwards.
No, you can't be patient after that.
He doesn't care.
Dean lies down on top of you, carefully not to squish you, and drives his lips all over your face.
You try to keep up, opening your mouth for another filthy kiss, but he only gives you that after he's licked the sweat off of your forehead. And when he's done, he gently guides your jaw open, "Open up f'me, baby." letting his spit slide down your tongue.
You just take it. Flushed cheeks and brain severed by the heat.
His crotch is starting to hurt, but he won't pull himself out until you've came first.
Dean may see the utter desperation in your eyes when he meets your gaze, because he starts kissing his way backwards, leaving a hand on one of your breasts, as he mumbles something along the lines of how he's gonna need another round to enjoy you properly.
You're not even sure if you're surviving this one.
When he's laying at the end of the bed, one arm stretched out to squeeze your right tit softly, the other circled heavily around your hips to stop you from squirming, his nose dives into the outline of your labia over your wet panties.
Your whole body shivers. You let out another one of those little whimpers through a clenched jaw.
It drives Dean into push his tongue flat over your clothed cunt, the tip of it digging right over your throbbing clit.
You're trying to be patient, you really are, but you feel like you're either about to burst into flames, or to melt and fuse with the bedspread under your sticky skin.
"You smell so good," Dean says against your puffy cunt. "taste even better." He's already tucking his tongue under the fabric.
You tense and relax at the same time, burning hot tickles crawling from your pussy to your limbs, your torso, making themselves comfortable under your eyelids, before finally sliding off to the back of your head.
His mouth wanders once more.
Dean ducks his head to kiss the tender skin of your thighs, the hand on your breast kneading the soft flesh.
"Can I bite you?" Dean mumbles with a mouthful of your skin, leaving a painfully hickey, and when you hiss, he still sinks hit teeth over the raw skin where your thighs rub together when you walk.
You try to scoot back out of instinct, even if your pussy is clenching around nothing because of it, but he holds you down with a strong arm and all the will he can compile.
He soothes the mark of his teeth with his own saliva, and goes head first for your groin, sticking his tongue in there as well, licking as much of you as he can find.
Just to see if you can have a moment of mercy, you prop yourself up on your elbows in the most pathetic way possible, looking down at how he's enthusiastically mouthing at your flesh.
You hope he's having fun, because all you're doing is suffering. "Dean, just– Come on–"
Unexpectedly nimbly, Dean's skillfull hand pulls your panties off in a swift motion. And finally he's got his face buried nose deep into your pussy. His pussy.
And of course you just give it to him, because the way he's ravishing you has knocked you back against the mattress like this was just between him and the heat between your thighs. Your hands don't take long flying to his hair.
Dean eats you out like it's going to be the last time, every time. He takes his time with it.
He's eager, but he's also thoughtful.
He doesn't relent, not until he's sure he's drawn every moan out of you. Even after that, he's contentedly lapping against your soreness, gathering every last drop that just came out of you.
His face is wet when he comes out for air. Your trembling thighs framing his beautiful face, hair sticking in different directions, the sliver of green that's been swallowed by his pupils still glimmering under the dim light of the motel room.
He looks like he's right where he wants to be.
"You can take another one, right?" He asks, a little breathless.
You just slump with a soft huff, knowing you'll surrender.
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : OH my god i'm terribly sorry, no pussy eating foreplay should take this long ☹️ anyway uhhh it started alright, and then i faltered before finally giving up. sigh. i don't love it. okay thank you bye.
divider by cursed-carmine.
