Title: Mischief Managed pt. 2
Series: Part 1 here
Summary part 2: You’re both caught out, but it doesn’t stop Dean going for round two a couple hours later, creating a bed of desire in the midst of all the chaos.
Words: 4′496 (oops?)
Warnings: Panic attack, Language, smut (smutty smut SMUT y’all. this is your warning)
Characters: Dean x Reader, mentions of Sam Winchester, Crowley, Rowena.
Mun note: As requested, part 2! I didn’t intend on this being more than a one shot but as I sat and mulled over it, I thought, why the hell not? Let’s deepen the plot and the filth. Feedback always welcome! I only proof read once so apologies for mistakes. If you wanna be tagged, shoot me a message.
You and Dean cleaned up, helped each other redress in the midst of your lusty kisses. You groped him at every opportunity as he did you, creating a solid echo of chuckles and giggles.
You wished you never had to leave this state of euphoria. You wished you weren’t in the middle of a war-zone. All you wanted to do was have him close to you. Safe, secure, whole. “You uh, you needa wipe those cheeks,” Dean chuckled, smugly.
You frowned and bowed down to look in the wing mirror of Baby. “Winchester,” you scorned, trying to rub away the mascara stained tears that were etched on your cheeks.
“What?” Dean retorted, one hand suddenly hiking up your skirt an the other, cupping your still wet core from behind. You gasped, staying bent over with one hand on the window of the car and the other reaching back to grab his.
“Don’t what me,” you puffed out a breath. You were spent, still wet, still shaky, but, as always, full of lust - could you ever not crave this man?
Dean took a handful of your hair and jerked you up straight, his hot breath against the right side of your neck. “I’m keeping these,” he dangled your soaked panties in-front of you before tucking them safely away in the back of his jeans pocket.
Once he released your hair, you turned towards him, breath still uneven, legs still weak, trying to appear like he hadn’t just took your world and rocked it. But you both knew he did. He always did.
“We can’t go back without the beer,” you reminded him as he hooked an arm around your waist. Nothing needed to be spoken aloud, but he was clearly aiding your steps so your legs didn’t have chance to give way beneath you.
“Sam said there was plenty in the fridge,” he looked down at you with a glimmering smirk. “And when we insisted, well- my brother is many things, Y/N, but he ain’t dumb.” He chuckled, implying Sam knew you two had ran off for privacy.
Your cheeks blushed fiercely and you could only laugh in response. You were quite shy in general. Dean forced the darkest, dirtiest, kinkiest and most vulnerable parts of you to the surface - but they were reserved for him. For him only. Anyone else baring witness to those sides of you made you shuffle and cringe.
“He won’t tease, he ain’t the type,” Dean said, like he was reassuring you after catching the pink in your cheeks. He pulled you closer to his side with the arm he had wrapped around you, pressing a kiss to your temple.
You halted him in his tracks, in your tracks, just around the corner from where you were all seated half hour ago. “Dean...” You looked up at him, your voice a mere whisper.
The small vulnerability in your voice managed to breach his forever strong, solider type face - enough to cast a wash of distinct worry across it. His hands came up to cup beneath your jaw, the pads of his thumbs working on delivering a soothing stroke across the lines of it. “Hey,” he whispered.
You opened the eyes you hadn’t noticed you’d closed. His touch did soothe you, it soothed you through everything. Any danger, any fear, any war, any thing, he was your safe space. Always. “What is it?” He asked.
Your hands lifted up, almost feebly, grasping so gently against his wrists as a wet few tears pooled in your eyes. “Nothing.”
“Nothing,” you repeated, voice quiet and almost sad, yet, so calm. “It’s-” you stopped, letting go and stepping away from him. “Should I feel guilty? For- for feeling okay? For- what we just did? The world is hangin’ by a thread, the Devil is loose, we have a witch chained up, the King of Hell, helping... We- I- We don’t- I mean, sometimes- I just- jus’, I can’t- I don’t know how to- to feel and,” you stopped, having lost all of the free air in your lungs.
On the verge of a panic attack, you hunched forward. The only thing stopping you from falling to the floor was Deans solid grip on your arms, pulling you up, keeping you straight. “Y/N, hey. Hey. Listen,” Dean spoke in a tone that was both commanding and soft.
His grip on your arms was the only thing holding you upright and it was sure to leave behind bruises. Your senses were so suddenly shot, logical thought? What was that? It had been catapulted from you. You were panicking. Thinking. You couldn’t breathe.
Dean could only hold you so long but he used the strength he had to ensure you fell to the floor with no hurtful impact. “Y/N,” Dean’s voice rang in your ears, a loud, firm and familiar voice that pierced the cloud you’d bubbled around yourself.
“Yeah. Yes- I’m fine. I- I’m okay, it’s okay,” you spluttered, trying to reassure, to calm him, even though it was you who was practically choking.
“Y/N, listen to me. Hear me, right now. Hear me.” Dean’s voice bellowed, commanding you enough to snap your eyes up to his. “That’s it, Y/N,” he continued to stare at you, praising the fact you looked up to him.
“Hear. Me. Only me.” Dean’s voice lost its more angry edge, he was staring into your eyes and you, into his - you were helpless. “Dean,” you bubbled, shaking your head.
You didn’t know how to explain why you had suddenly felt so panicked and if it wasn’t for the gentleness and patience in his eyes, you would have panicked further. “That’s it, sweetheart. Shhh,” Dean cooed, his emerald green hues focused with such soft intent, it pulled you from your panic attack.
You breathed more evenly, clasping onto every inch of his shoulders as though you were worried he was to be taken from you. “I’m sorry.” You choked, your arms coming around his neck as you held him tight.
“Shh, shush. Y/N, I got you. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Dean held a firm but soothing voice as he scooped you from the floor, holding you against his chest.
“Listen to me, you got nothin’ to feel guilty for. Our lives suck nearly all the time. We fight ‘cos we gotta, ‘cos what other mugs are dumb enough to face what we do? So screw feelin’ guilty. We deserve these moments, hell, we’ve earned it. Alright?” Dean leaned back to look at you and you gave him a nod.
He had a point, if you two didn’t grab a hold of peace and happiness when it presented itself then you’d never feel either of those things again. “Okay. Yeah. I’m okay.” You breathed out, lifting on your toes to kiss his lips.
When you were ready, you re-entered the room to find Crowley and Rowena readying to leave. “Callin’ it?” Dean asked Sam, who gave a nod. “Yeah. We’re runnin’ on fumes, we can pick this back up tomorrow.” He answered.
Crowley jolted Rowena’s chains, tugging her near him so he could return them both to Hell quarters. Not before a confession though. “Correction. You’re running on fumes,” he looked to Sam and then pointed towards you and Dean. “They’re running on fumes because they used their energy entertaining each other.”
“Shut up,” Dean scolded. You just gave a small shrug. Sure, you were a little embarrassed but for the most part, you didn’t care. “And as for me, well, I need to go vomit after being subject to your telepathic conversation.” Crowley’s lips curled into a judgy smirk.
Your jaw fell open. Sam and Rowena looked at each other confused and Dean, well, Dean’s face twisted into fury. “Because that’s not creepy at all. Get outta here,” he grumbled. Just like that, Crowley and Rowena vanished.
“How mortifying,” you mumbled, looking up at Dean. Though, in spite of the blush on your face, you couldn’t help but snort out a laugh and hold your hands up in defeat.
“I’ma go shower and sleep,” you squeezed Dean’s arm and said goodnight to Sam before you disappeared off into your room. You imagined the boys would stand and talk for a while, they usually did. Bro to bro moments and such like. You washed away your sins, drying off and throwing one of Dean’s shirts on to sleep in.
Sometimes, he never made it to your room and you liked to be able to smell him on you. He was like a comfort blanket, you always felt safer, calmer even, when he was around or close by.
You were out like a light the second your head hit the pillow. It had been a long day, a longer night, you were exhausted. You didn’t hear Dean enter your room a couple hours later, skulking around in the dark as he threw his clothes off piece by piece.
He went to shower, the sound of the water stirred you in your sleep. A lazy head lifted up and squinted as you rolled over to put a lamp on for him. No intention of getting out of the bed, you just moved over enough so he could climb in once he was done.
You’d mostly dozed back off when he entered the room. His shirt had slipped up, exposing your bare rear to him in the soft lamp light. Dean was already semi-hard, having let his thoughts roam in the shower, the sight of you made his cock twitch.
A smirk crossed his lips as he carefully climbed onto the bed with the towel still around his waist. He bowed down and bit your ass, not harsh, but hard enough to nip and jolt you from your sleep.
“Wh-” you turned your head, eyes focusing on the boyish, lopsided grin sporting Dean’s face. “Mmm,” you whined in protest as you turned to face him. “That hurt,” you pouted sleepily to him.
He chuckled and pulled you closer to him, pressing a chaste kiss to your nose. “Liar,” he smiled, making you smile back. You dropped your head back down to the pillows, tracing your fingertips across his chest as he stayed propped on his side.
“I think the magic has wore off.” Dean commented, almost sadly. “Good,” you scoffed out a laugh and shook your head.
“Is it? I thought you said I didn’t need magic to make you feel good?” His tone had shifted into what almost sounded like a challenge. You peeled your eyes back open to find his own darkening with lust.
God dammit, those eyes. You groaned sleepily, a soft laugh escaping your lips. Clearly, it wasn’t sleep that was on his mind. “I did say that. Because you know it’s true. You don’t need to prove it,” you curled your lips up and lifted a brow at him.
“Mm, no, but- proving it is all the fun,” he swiped a lick across his lower lip as his hand slid up and down your thigh. He squeezed and rubbed, massaging your flesh as he dipped his head to capture your lips.
You sighed happily, returning the gentle press of his lips with your own. You were pulling around from your unconscious state, growing more aware of his hand teasing your skin and the fact his member was digging into your side through the towel.
You parted your lips, allowing Dean access enough to slip his tongue in your mouth. He kissed you like he needed you, his gentle touch turned into a harsh grip before it travelled up under your shirt.
He grinded his hips against your side, cupping your breast and squeezing. You arched your chest into his touch and pressed a hand against his shoulder, nudging him onto his back.
Hooking your leg over his waist, you turned over to straddle him, your heating core brushing against his covered member. A quiet growl sounded from the back of his throat, bringing a coy smile to your face.
Gripping the hem of your shirt, you lifted it up over your head and tossed it aside. The locks of your hair fell across your face, landing just above your breasts.
The look of adoration on Dean’s face made you blush. But you weren’t shy, not with him, not when he always made sure to let you know just how stunning he thought you were. He worshipped you, your body, your mind, every inch of your being and damn, if you didn’t give him the same respect.
Quite often you thought he must have been hand carved by God himself, it just wasn’t possible for a man to be so perfect otherwise. You leaned down, pressing your bare chest against his. You hand ran up his arm until you had your fingers interlocked.
Dean was all about touch, about feeling your way, being close, he had taught you how to caress. Your past lovers never cared for a build up, you’d never known anything other than a mildly pleasurable fuck until he came along.
It was safe to say, he’d ruined you for anyone else. It was probably just as well you never planned on leaving his side. Your hips rolled into his, forcing a jaggered breath out his mouth.
The prideful smile on your lips didn’t go un-noticed, he delivered a slap to your ass which made you yelp. “Tease,” he whispered, his hand squeezed your butt cheek as he rocked his hips up against yours.
You breathed out quietly, the friction aiding in the wetness that was gathering in your core, threatening to slip down your thighs. You tore his hand from your ass and reluctantly shuffled your hips down, your mouth leaving a wet trail of kisses and licks on his torso as you did so.
Dean’s chest began to rise and fall with the anticipation of where you were taking this. You could hear him breathe with relief when you undone his towel and freed his cock. It stood proud against his stomach, stiff and throbbing with the need for attention.
You cast your eyes up to him and had to resist a moan just at the sight. His hooded eyes glazed with lust, his plump lips parted as he breathed shallow breaths.
He propped up on his elbows, drinking in the sight of you until your tongue poked out to run a teasing stripe from the base of his member, up to his tip. His eyes fluttered and his hips jerked as a gentle hand tangled in the back of your hair.
You felt triumphant, it was a turn on in itself to see someone like him crumbling away under your touch. You lifted a hand to pump him slowly, guiding his tip towards your mouth.
You swirled your tongue around before enveloping him in your mouth. Dean hissed out his pleasure as he gritted his teeth. His grip stayed in your hair, but he didn’t push or pull, he liked to let you find your comfort zone first, forever the gentleman, he never wanted to hurt you.
Your teasing licks soon turned into you taking him back, inch by inch, up and down. You found a steady rhythm and that’s when he started to move his hips to meet you, soft little grunts and groans escaping him each time he hit the back of your throat.
“Lift up your ass,” he growled out, making your eyes lift up to catch his gaze. And then you remembered, the big mirror right behind you on the table. You’d scoff or smile if you could, but you obeyed, lifting your rear in the air and parting your thighs, granting him an unholy view.
Dean bit his lip, his gaze on the mirror and you wiggled your ass to tease him, sure that now he could feel the little smile on your lips as they slid up and down his length. He chuckled low in his throat and looked back down at you. “Touch yourself for me?” His head tilted to the side.
His tone was commanding, but it was soft too, like he wanted you to know you had a choice. You loved that about him, he’d never make you feel uncomfortable.
He gave you little pushes, tested your limits in the sweetest way and if ever it was too much, he never made you feel embarrassed for saying no. In turn, it pretty much made you willing to do or try anything for him.
He always praised you for it too, which served as good ego fuel. You closed your eyes as you took him further down your throat and lifted a hand up to glide between your legs. You used two fingers to dip between your wet folds, sliding them up and down until your juices glistened in the dim light.
Dean growled, the pleasure from your mouth paired with the view in the mirror made his dick twitch. You moaned around his length, making him hiss and snap his hips up. The vibrations made it difficult for him to control himself, but the view was too good to miss.
Your fingers slid into your core and you manoeuvred your thumb to rub your clit, your eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. It took a few seconds, but you managed to set a pace for yourself, your fingers slid in time with the bobbing of your head.
You could feel yourself building, your body relaxed and as it did, you pushed his dick past the hilt of your throat, slowly, until your mouth had taken him all. “Fuck, baby-” he grunted, his eyes snapping down to look for himself.
You’d done it a couple times before, but you’d usually gag and Dean knew you weren’t entirely comfortable with it, that you had to feel calm and relaxed and in control. His reactions when you caught him off guard like that were always priceless, you slid your mouth back up, lifting your eyes to his. You did it again, slower this time, humming around him as you did.
The pleasure was intense and Dean was tugging gently at your hair until you released him with a small pop. He didn’t want to cum yet and he knew you’d make him if you carried on. The thought brought a smirk to your lips and you tweaked a brow at him.
His hand gripped your arm until he made you pull away from your self pleasure. He brought your fingers to his lips and engulfed them in his mouth, tasting you as his fiery hues stayed transfixed on yours.
Your smirk was gone, replaced by a look of unfiltered need. That was perhaps the hottest thing you’d ever witnessed. Dean lost his gentle edge as he pulled you up and pushed you to the side. Your back landed on the bed with a small thud and he wasted no time in hovering over you.
Like a lion stalking his prey, his hungry lips clashed with yours, biting down on your lower lip until you whimpered and he kissed it, as though to make it all better. “I’m gonna fuck you until you don’t know if you’re beggin’ for more or beggin’ me to stop.” He growled against your lips.
You moaned at the thought, giving him a silent nod as you licked your lips. He sat up, pushing behind your knees until your legs were over his shoulders. Dean lined himself up at your entrance, sliding in you slowly. He loved to see your face when he would first enter you, hear the breathy gasp that would emit from your lips.
And damn did you gasp, he was only half way when you felt full, the position of your legs making it so you could feel every single inch of his long shaft. He moved slowly, sliding in and out until your pussy could take all of him and then he paused, revelling in the feeling of your walls around him.
A devilish smirk crossed his lips as he turned his head, kissing your ankle almost adoringly. You weren’t fooled though, his dark eyes let you know you were in for something much less sweet and a lot more sinful.
Dean snapped his hips back just as fast as he snapped them forward, making you choke out a cry. He filled you up, stretched you out, made you shiver. As he began to thrust, his hands held you by the knees, keeping your legs over his shoulders.
You muttered a string of curses under your breath, hating that you couldn’t reach him well enough to get a grip on his arms. You settled for clasping the bed sheets. His angled hits caught your g-spot until your soft cries were moans that echoed through your room.
No care for the younger Winchester who was somewhere in the bunker, you were losing yourself to the pleasure the elder one was bringing you. Your eyes rolled and closed as you tried to meet his thrusts.
“Look at me,” he hissed out. Your eyes pinged open and you licked at your lips, trying and failing to catch the breath he was taking away. You struggled to focus, he could tell, it only made him go harder, pleased with his efforts to make you his.
“Dean,” you moaned, feeling the shake in your legs travelling throughout your body. You were close, chasing your freedom in the prison he’d trapped you in. Your knuckles turned white with your grip on the sheets, your moans turning into cries of pleasure. Your tone got significantly higher, more breathy, and just as you were about to explode, he stilled.
Your eyes refocused to look at him and the second you saw that smirk, you whimpered and dropped your head back against the pillows. “Deaaan,” you whined.
“Yeah, baby?” He chuckled as he started to move again, slower now, not enough to bring you your high. He was teasing you, or was this torture? It felt like a form of it, at least, even if it was the best kind of torture anyone could ask for.
“I hate you,” you whispered, bringing another laugh from his lips. “No you don’t.” Dean bit his lower lip as he curled an arm around your thigh, circling his thumb against your swollen clit. “You’re not going to cum until I say you can, ok?”
You looked at him with a needy nod. Anything. You just wanted him to pick up the pace. “Good girl,” he praised, giving you just what you wanted when he started moving faster.
God bless his stamina and self-control, you’d never known a man capable of lasting so long. Or for that matter, a man who wanted to chase your release as much as his own, maybe even a little bit more. He’d admitted on many occasions that he got off on watching you get off.
And again we go back to that word - perfect. His thrusts were untamed, wild in their strength and ability to hit every nerve and every spot you needed. You were crying out, squirming and rolling your hips as you started to tighten around him.
“Dean, please.” You whimpered, your hand grabbing his wrist as if to try and get him to stop teasing your clit. You didn’t want him to stop, of course, but if he wasn’t going to let you cum, you needed him to.
“Please?” He questioned, unrelenting in his thrusts and the circled motions he made against your throbbing bud. “Please can I cum? Please,” you moaned, your pussy tightening in protest as you tried to hold back.
"No.” His tone was firm. His eyes were serious, if it wasn’t for the satisfied curve in his lips you’d be a little shocked. A cry of sheer frustration turned into a growl as you threw your head back once more. “I can’t- I- I can’t hold on,” you pleaded with him.
Either he took mercy or he was now nearing his own edge, but he gave you a smirk and a nod. “Cum for me, baby.” His voice was low and seductive through his uneven breath. The snap of his hips continued and you breathed in relief.
It was mere seconds before your release crashed over you, blinding your vision as your pussy clenched around his cock. “Fuck, oh- oh fuck,” you almost sat up, pushing at his chest when he didn’t relent and you didn’t come down, but rather, remained stuck in your leg quivering high.
Your body squirmed and your toes curled, a sinful scream of his name tumbling from you as you squirted, cumming around his cock with such blinding pleasure, tears spilled from your eyes. “Fuck, Y/N,” Dean half moaned out, as impressed as he was prideful and turned on.
Seeing you thrashing, whimpering and moaning out your orgasms was too much, his thrusts grew lazy as he shot his load around your pulsating walls. “Fuck,” he hissed, groaning and pulling out, jerking the last few drops of cum onto your stomach.
You were both breathless, you more so, your body still in small fits of after shock spasms. Dean released your legs and rolled onto his side, smoothing a hand up your stomach until it was around your throat, forcing you into a choking, desperate kiss.
“You. Are. Perfect.” He hummed, releasing your lips as he smirked against them. He chucked darkly as he felt the shake deep rooted in your bones. Talk about smug. “Shut up.” You breathed out, giggling quietly as you looked up at him through your dazed eyes.
“No. I’m serious. You’re perfect.” He sounded so adamant, his eyes so full of love and desire, your breath hitched. “Okay?” His brow lifted with the curve of his lips. You just smiled, biting your lower lip as you nodded. “Okay.”
Dean was capable of making you believe anything, if he said you were perfect then hell, you’d take it. You watched him as he rolled over, grabbing the towel from beneath him.
He cleaned you up gently, the odd teasing chuckle erupting from his chest when he would touch your sensitive bud. Tossing the towel aside, he thought to clean that up in the morning. Dean pulled you into his chest, squeezing you tight.
You moaned into his skin and stretched out, finally calming down, you curled your body around his like a baby sloth. You moved away from the wet patch on the bed and tugged a blanket up to drape around the two of you.
“I hope Sam had his earbuds in,” Dean made the comment and you buried your head into the crook of his neck. “Oh god,” you whispered, only now remembering that he was in the bunker.
The both of you chuckled and relaxed into each other. Dean pressed kisses against your head as he tickled the back of your spine, lulling you both into slumber.
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