Can't stop thinking of that episode where dean kind of just turned into a dog
Like imagine petting him as a joke and then him being really into it and being hella embarrassed at first especially because it's in front of sam and later when they're alone it maybe turning horny with us taking the lead after he initiates it😩
Idfk I need to be put down😓
omg bro i think about this ALL THE FREAKING TIME
no cuz imagine being at the shelter, and you’re petting all the puppies because they’re just so freaking cute, aren’t you? the prettiest boy ever. Dean watches from a corner, his arms crossed and his lips threatening to press into a pout. it’s stupid, he’s always known you have a soft spot for cute, furry things, but right now it’s driving him insane.
as your voice goes higher and you start to rub a german shepherd’s belly, something in dean’s chest snarls. you should be scratching his belly, calling him a good boy, telling him he’s the prettiest.
the thoughts are so shameful that his cheeks flush bright red, his eyes dropping and his frown deepening.
“oh, you gotta be kidding me,” sam scoffs, making you turn around to look at the brothers.
you immediately catch the dejected look on dean’s face, how his eyes inevitably end up drifting to your hand on the doggy’s belly, how there’s a glint of yearning in his eyes that matches all the other animalistic desires the potion has brought up.
“what happened, baby?” you get up from where you were kneeling, approaching dean. you can almost see his tail starting to wag at the attention. “you got a little jealous?”
“shut up.” your boyfriend rolls his eyes, but it’s weak, his heart barely in it.
“there’s nothing to be jealous about, cutie.” you keep your high voice, the same one you use with the puppies. dean’s eyes widen, his phantom puppy ears perking up. “you’re still my favorite boy.”
“you can’t fucking—oh my god, don’t do that.” dean sputters.
“do what, baby boy?”
“that fucking voice thing, it’s—just don’t.”
sam groans in the background, you ignore them both and walk closer. your fingers find dean’s hair, scratching at his scalp and biting back a giggle at the way it almost makes his tongue loll out.
“but you’re my good boy, aren’t you? yes you are.” your grin is so big that your cheeks hurt, dean blinks like he’s not sure if he should be scared or horny. “the prettiest freakin’ puppy, such a sweet boy. my darling angel. you’re so adorable, aren’t you?”
“okay,” sam raises his hands, making a straight line out of the shelter. “you’re gross, i’m getting the fuck out of here.”
you laugh, your other hand moving to cup dean’s cheek. he just stands there, almost hypnotized, a little whiny noise leaving his throat when you start peppering kisses all over his face.
that’s when the girl working at the front door of the shelter comes in, and you have to flee the place before she starts asking questions.
dean is restless for the whole drive, his leg bouncing and his fingers drumming around the wheel. he’s barely killed the engine when he’s dragging you out of the backseat, only giving sammy a grunted “see ya tomorrow” before tugging you inside your motel room.
you want to tease him about being desperate, but suddenly you’re being pushed onto the bed and your oversized puppy of a boyfriend is crawling on top of you. it’s not smooth or suave, he just jumps you like a bone and starts to eat your face.
that’s the only way to accurately describe it. because he licks into your mouth, all teeth and tongue and pure neediness, until spit is running down your chin and he’s humping your thigh. his movements are reckless, driven by pure instinct. he moans and whimpers against you, sucking on your tongue and tugging at your shirt like it personally offended him.
“off. please, off.” a string of spit connects your lips as he leans back.
his eyes are wide and blurry, his pupils dilated as he takes in the image of you under him. your answer seems to come too late, he gets too impatient. so he licks a line up your neck, all the way to your chin, collecting all the spit there just to shove his tongue back down your throat.
it’s gross, you should be disgusted. you’ve never been hornier in your life.
“hold on, puppy.” you push him down onto the mattress, straddling his hips and pining them down, halting his humping.
he lets out a pitiful cry, you laugh, he whines again.
“god, you’re just so freaking cute,” you whisper, cupping his face with one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips are set on a pretty pout that you can kiss.
“baby.” his hips try to move again, a little more erratic. “please, i want you. please, please—“
he almost sounds at the edge of tears, you wanna chew him up.
“i know, darling, i know.” you pat his cheek condescendingly, his dick twitches under you. “but you’re gonna be good for me and wait, right? you can do that?”
“i don’t—please.”
“i got you, baby boy.” you pull off your shirt, sliding your denim shorts off and cupping him through his jeans. his moan is so high the whole motel probably heard him. good, they should know. “i know what you need, let me take care of you.”
you end up riding him until his eyes roll back on his head and he almost blacks out, filling you up all nice and warm and is it you, or did he just cum a lot more than usual? it feels like it fucking reaches your belly, spilling down your thighs and coating his cock.
then dean flips you around and cleans you up with his tongue, sucking his own release from your cunt with long, languid licks. he hums like he’s eating a five-course meal, his phantom tail wagging incessantly and his teeth leaving bruises all over your legs and torso. he ends up buckling his hips against the sheets, his red, pretty cock bobbing against his hip and weeping, begging for some friction.
you let him fuck your mouth then, until he’s buried deep in your throat and you can hear him blabbering about how good you feel and how much he loves you. he cums all over your tongue and face, some even dripping down your tits.
you cuddle for a long time after that, with dean still on top of you, kissing and chewing every bit of bare skin he can reach. he nuzzles against you and melts when you scratch the top of his head and whimpers when you praise him. you try being a little mean instead, it only makes it worse. he ends up working himself up again and his poor dick fills back up just hours after. you playfully scold him for it, it doesn’t help.
the motel sheets end up so disgustingly dirty by dawn that you might as well burn them, just to save the poor maid from having to even see them.
the effect of the potion fades somewhere between the fifth nap dean takes on your chest, and you might just have to figure out how to convince him to take it again some day.
wow that was a lot more than i expected to write, i’m definitely expanding on this more one day. anyway, just a reminder that dean is spiritually a doberman and that im the leader of the dog!dean cult. we meet every friday<3
