#professor dean

[castielsfics]

after midnight by winglesss 12k E sleeping with a guy started out as an experiment to prove something to sam but dean realizes he’s found something else entirely in cas

[mummybear]

Teach You A Lesson

This Is Day 20 Of Roleplay May

Words: 5081

Warnings: Smut, Dom Dean, Bratty Sub Reader, Teacher/Student, Blowjob (Face fucking), Spanking With Cane, Choking, Hair Pulling, Dirty Talk, Name Calling, Sir Kink, Swearing. Think That’s It.

Characters: Professor Dean, Student Reader, Reader’s Best Friend Poppy.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Detention with hot substitute teacher, Mr Winchester, sees him trying to teach you a lesson.

A/N: Sorry my beautiful followers :) this is another late addition, I’m a little behind! But they are all still coming don’t worry! It’s safe to say I couldn’t have done this one anywhere near as well without my amazing Beta, Bee @negans-lucille-tblr​ She’s been a really massive help and I loves her :P 

Anyway, I really hope you guys enjoy this and it was worth the wait! ;)

Last night had been freaking exhausting, you had stayed up late with your study group studying for a final exam, an exam that you were frankly wishing you could ignore forever. You sigh as you take your seat in class, luckily it was still free, even though you were late. Although you were clearly earlier than your teacher, judging by everyone chatting and the lack of someone shouting at the front of the room. Looking up at the board at the front of the class you could just about read the words that were scrawled across it.

‘Substitute teacher today, running late. Please wait.’

Sighing in annoyance at the words as if they were the reason for all of your problems. The last thing you needed was some substitute teacher who knew fuck all about the class. To top it off you’d been really needing to speak to your permanent teacher today, evidently she had other things to attend to today, so you were just gonna have to suck it up and wait.

You were nodding off slightly at your desk when your best friend elbowed you, quickly getting your attention. “Wake your fucking ass up and look at that.” Poppy hissed, nodding at the direction of the front of the class.

With a big yawn you sit up in your chair a little and stretch, your arms pausing on the way down at the sight in front of you. You had a substitute alright, but you weren’t aware that the class required a substitute for a model. Your arms immediately drop back to the table when his eyes find yours from across the classroom. He doesn’t say anything, merely smirks at you and looks away, writing his name on the board and yet your eyes are locked on him unable to look away. 

Twenty minutes into the lesson and you're on the edge of your seat, watching and listening to every word that’s formed with those perfect plump lips of his. 

“You’re staring and drooling,” Poppy laughs, pulling your attention away from the substitute for the first time since he’d walked into the room.

You can’t help but laugh when you look at her. “I’m admiring the view.” you reason with her, which apparently she finds really funny. 

“Oh you’re more than admiring.” She mocks you playfully. 

“Can you blame me! Besides, I’m hardly the only one.” Your defence seems self-evident when one of the girls half moans beside you, when he bends over to grab something. 

“I mean come on Pop, you could bounce a quarter off of that thing,” you groan shifting in your seat.

“Oh no arguments from me.” she grins, then you notice her face drop and she starts blushing hard moving away from her.

Before you can ask her what’s going on Mr Winchester is standing by your desk, making you jump when his large slaps hard against the table top.

“Glad that I’ve finally got your attention. Were you planning on paying attention at some point this afternoon?” he asks a little sarcastically, cocking his eyebrow at you.

“I don’t...I wasn’t…” clearing your throat you lick your lips, hoping to stop your stuttering voice as you look up into those green eyes. You almost moan at the way he’s looking down at you, but you manage to hold it back long enough to get your words out. 

“Yes sir. I’m sorry.” You swallow the lump in your throat when he smirks.

“Good. Well I’ll see you in detention after school and we’ll go over it again. Until you manage to grasp the concept of listening. Am I clear?” 

You hear hushed laughter around the room but all you can do is blush and nod. “Yes Sir. I’ll do better.” Your voice is so quiet you barely recognise it, with a swift nod he walks away, back to the front of the class.

Without turning around you know that Poppy is smiling. “What are you smiling at exactly?” You grumble, not taking your eyes off of the front of the class.

“How wet are you right now?” 

“Oh, fuck you.” you laugh, knowing that she knows you a little too well at this point and that she didn’t really need to fucking ask that question.

The end of class bell rings and you pack up your stuff, it takes you a little longer than usual for some reason. Maybe it’s the fact that your panties are still a little uncomfortable from earlier. 

“Don’t be late sweetheart. Or there will be an extra punishment.” Mr Winchester warns you as you attempt to slip from the room unnoticed.

The deep gravel of his voice makes you pause at the door and turn back to look at him.

“I won’t be sir.” you reply quickly with a small smile, yet there’s that part of you that wonders about what punishment he’s talking about. Especially with that mischievous glint that’s in his eyes. 

“What kind of punishment are we talking about though, Mr Winchester?” you ask curiously, the curve of your smile turns into a smirk as you take several steps back into the room.

Mr Winchester folds his arms across his broad chest, leaning back against his desk. Not even trying to hide the way that his eyes wander over your bare legs and your curves, before they finally move back up to your face. You’re standing in front of him before you can rethink your actions.

You’re standing straight and yet Mr Winchester practically towers over you. Biting your lip when the look on his face changes from playful to dangerous, sparking something inside you that you hadn’t felt in a very long time. 

“Don’t push your luck sweetheart. Girls like you need a firm hand and trust me, I know just how to deal with you.” The way he says that makes you shiver and take a step back. Looking up at him through your lashes as his tongue swipes across his pink lips. “Now, get moving, before you’re late to your next class.” 

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding, “I can’t wait to find out just how you deal with me, Sir.” 

Mr Winchester’s long fingers wrap around your wrist when your fingers brush over his chest. You both hear his next class coming down the hall, loud steps and voices approaching quickly. He leans in closer, “do as you’re told unless you want to be bent over my desk in front of my next class...” He releases you as soon as the door opens and you step back with a smirk, not missing the dangerous look that crosses across his face once more, making you feel slightly giddy. You turn away from him, making sure to put an extra swing in your hips when you walk away.

- 

 The bell for your final class rings and you leisurely pack away your things, making sure to take your time. When you finally leave the class you know that you’re already late to your detention and you can’t help but get excited about what Mr Winchester will have in store for you.

You spot him before you even get close to his classroom, the closer you get you can see that he looks pissed, but that only makes you bite back your smile.

“Get the fuck inside. Now!” he all but growls as soon as you’re close enough that nobody else can hear his low voice. “Oh sweetheart. You better wipe that smile off of your face right now.”

The door slams closed making you jump in anticipation, watching him lock it and pull down the blind on the door. You take the seat that he had set up for you at the front of the class. “Sorry i’m late Sir.” You smile cheekily, pushing up your tits as you lean forward against your arms on the desk.

Your belly rolls as he smirks at you, “no, you’re not. But you will be.” 

There’s that dangerous lilt to his voice that makes the throbbing between your legs return.

“Get up. I’ve got something to show you,” he demands quickly, walking over to his desk and opening a drawer.

Curiosity gets the better of you as you slip out from your table and walk over to his desk. He turns when you’re standing beside him, pulling out a long thin wooden cane. You feel yourself shift as your mouth goes dry, you look up and meet his eyes.

“Are you gonna spank me Sir?” You gasp feeling the cool wood move slowly up your thigh.

His free hand moves to grip your jaw and you can feel his thumb digging into the bone, which pulls a whimper from your lips. Humming low in his throat he leans in close so that his lips almost brush yours.

“I told you sweetheart. I know just what to do with you. You’re gonna be begging to be a good little girl for me by the time I'm done with you.” 

“I don’t beg,” you sass at him, quickly earning yourself a gentle warning tap of the cane against the backs of your thighs, which makes you bite into your lip trying to stop the noise from spilling past your lips. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He chuckles darkly and releases your jaw from his tight grip, tapping your cheek with the palm of his hand. “Well, that’s about to change. Bend over and do not make me ask twice.” 

You turn to face his desk feeling his body press close against your back. 

“Go fuck yourself.” you giggle pushing your ass back against him.

Growling he roughly presses between your shoulders and forces you against the desk. 

“Stop being a cheeky little bitch or I’m gonna get really angry. Now, pull that skirt up, I wanna watch your ass turn red.”

You reach down and grip the hem of your skirt, wiggling it up your legs slowly, barely moving. However, he doesn’t seem in the mood and roughly pulls it up your thighs and over your ass.

“You’re such a tease. Mr Winchester,” you moan, feeling the cane move slowly up your thigh with the lightest touch, just barely tickling your skin as it moves over the globes of your ass. 

“You’re one to fuckin’ talk. I’m just gettin’ started little one, so I suggest you start doing as you’re told.” he all demands as one of his big hands smooths over the skin of your ass cheeks and squeezes harshly. 

“I want you to count them out for me and if anything gets too much we're gonna have a word that you can use, a word which stops everything,” he explains, keeping his tone even and his voice quiet.

“Please don’t. I’ll be good.” You pout looking back at him, failing miserably to hide your smile.

He’s pressed against your back, lips pressed to your ear as he chuckles.

“Uh huh. Yeah, I’m not totally convinced, honestly sweetheart. So that’s gonna be a real big no. You’re getting this because you deserve it. You really are such a little smart ass” 

“Yeah, well I am smart and you’re real hot when you’re angry.” You wink back at him when he finally stands back up again.

“Yeah well, we’ll just see about that. Now, pick a word.”

"Okay fine, how about, tree?” you reply with an edge to your voice.

“Good girl, but hold the attitude. Use it if you need it. That’s what it’s for, you understand?” Mr Winchester asks you.

“Yes Sir. I’m ready,” you breathe out feeling the cockiness leave you for a moment. His thumbs hook into the sides of your panties and he pulls them down your legs. His lips gently press against your ass cheek, making you whimper at the contrast of his soft lips and the slight scratch of his stubble. At the same time he bends, he picks up the discarded panties and pushes them into his pants pocket.

“Has anyone ever done this to you before?” he asks, voice a little deeper than before.

“No Sir. Only with their hand but it wasn’t enough,” you explain wiggling your ass at him.

“Well, we’ll go slow this time. Just remember your word,” he reminds you firmly, “spread your legs for me. Show me what I’ve got to look forward to.” 

Your thighs are shaking in anticipation as you spread them, whimpering when you feel one of his fingers move through your already slick folds. He pulls back with a chuckle. A moan slips past your lips with the first measured and careful strike of the cane across both of your ass cheeks. “So wet already my little slut, and I've barely touched you. Don’t forget to count,” he teases you with that husky voice.

“Can’t you just fuck me Sir? You don’t need to punish me, don’t you wanna feel how tight my little pussy is?” you ask him teasingly.

“No. Now, stop being a brat and fuckin’ count,” he tells you, giving you a warning tap on your ass with his hand.

“One, Sir,” you moan, feeling the second hit sting a little harder, striking in almost the exact same place. But your lips remain shut and you just push back against him.

“Oh, you better keep counting. Or I'll give you twice as many.” 

“Oh fine. Spoilsport. Two,” you answer, not able to hide the shake in your voice when it’s quickly followed by another. “Fuck! Three!” You cry out as the sting of the cane hits you just under your ass cheeks.

“Such a filthy mouth,” he chuckles, another strike hitting you much harder than before.

“Fuck you! Four,” you whimper against the desk, feeling your fingers tighten against the wood. You gasp loudly when the next two come down in quick succession of each other.

“I swear if I have to tell you again, all you’re gonna get is a sore ass.” 

“So bossy,” you giggle, turning back to look at him and biting your lip.

“Do it,” he demands huskily.

“Fine. Five, six,” you grumble, pushing back towards him.

There’s another hit and you giggle hoping to wind him up, his hand grips your hip and holds you to the table as another one hits your skin.

“Seven.”

“You’re loving this aren’t you? Such a needy little slut, not so mouthy when you’re having your ass beat are you?” He laughs darkly, pushing the smoothness of the thin cane back and forth between your soaked folds. 

“No Sir, I just want it harder. If you can manage it.” You’re panting even with your snarky reply but you lift your head, just long enough to look over your shoulder and meet his darkened green eyes. Your laugh is quickly cut off by his voice.

“Oh yeah? Well, we can't have you enjoying it too much, can we?” he smirks. It's the filthiest smirk you’ve ever seen, sending a new wave of arousal through your body. This time you hear the cane move through the air before you feel it. When it hits your skin twice in a row you have to bite into your arm to stop the scream.

“Count. You wanna be a smart ass with me, you will fuckin’ learn,” he growls darkly. It turns out poking the bear may have been a bad idea but you couldn’t resist. Even now the throbbing between your thighs is stronger than the one beating across your ass. 

“Eight and nine,” you whimper, feeling your skin start to sweat.

“Better. One more, then we’ll see how good your gag reflex is my little slut, would you like that?” 

“Yes Sir,” you reply as seductively as you can at that moment.

“You want it here?” he chuckles when you push back into him, gently tapping against the lips of your soaked pussy with the cane, before he moves it down to the back of your thighs and taps again. “Or here?” He slowly moves back and forth between the two waiting for your answer.

“There Sir,” you moan when the cane moves back to your thighs.

“Such a shame, I’d love to watch you squirm when I spank that little pussy pink. Now say please.”

“Oh hell no,” you all but growl in reply, trying to get out from under his grip but he keeps you pinned to the table.

“I guess you just wanna go home then?”

“Fine. Please,” you snap back at him.

His words cause you to groan but that quickly turns into a scream of his name. Followed by, “ten!” 

Your body collapses against the desk and you hiss slightly as his hands smooth over your ass.

“You did so well baby girl, even if you were a mouthy little bitch. But fuck is that a sexy sight,” Dean praises you, pressing his lips to the sore throbbing skin of your ass. 

“So you did hear me say my name earlier this afternoon then?” He asks knowingly, pulling you up off the desk and turning you to face him.

“I tried to tell you I was listening,” you smile at him sickly sweet, hoping to get away with a little more than you might have otherwise. 

“Yeah well, forget it. From this point on you will call me Sir. Do you understand?” he demands firmly, you can’t help but blush with the way that he’s looking at you. Reminding you of a parent who’s disappointed with a child.

“What happens if I don’t?” you sass him, biting your lip when he steps closer, until he’s practically pressed up against you.

Grabbing your jaw the way he had earlier that day, his lips brush yours this time and you have to swallow the lump in your throat, feeling his grip tighten and his thumb dig into your bone once more.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he growls roughly crushing his lips against yours. 

You’re completely taken by the kiss, every movement of his lips and tongue is so demanding and perfect. You moan into his mouth, dragging your teeth over his plump bottom lip. Dean growls, making you giggle, but it’s quickly cut off when his tongue tangles with your own and his hand fists in the back of your hair. Tugging it hard, he pulls your lips away from his.

“Get on your knees and open up, let’s see how much of a cock slut you are.” 

“Yes Sir.” You grin up at him, wincing a little when his grip on your hair adjusts and he frees his cock from its tight confines. You help him pull the suit pants and boxers down his legs. When you’re finished you look up at him through your lashes, a smile tugging at your lips.

He taps his cock against your closed lips.

“Open. Now,” he growls his warning, narrowing darkened green eyes at you. You keep smiling as you part your lips and stick out your tongue. Kitten licking the tip and dragging your nails down the back of his thighs. You watch him grit his teeth and his grip tightens in your hair, making you whimper but you don’t give in.

“What’s wrong Sir? I thought you liked teasing, you changed your mind?” you pout, looking up at him as innocently as you can manage.

Dean’s free hand grips your jaw as he meets your eyes and squeezes roughly, “fuckin’ open. Now. Or you can go home and get yourself off,” he threatens, voice thick with annoyance and you can’t help but giggle behind closed lips.

Feeling the ache in your jaw paired with the threat of him not getting you off causes you to finally give in and open your mouth. Smirking down at you, Dean thrusts his hips forward roughly until his cock bumps against the back of your throat.

“Relax and breathe. You can do better than that, can’t you my little slut?” he mocks, pulling his cock almost all of the way out of your mouth before repeating his actions.

You try your best to relax your throat but he’s so thick it’s almost impossible for your gag reflex not to kick in. You grip his thick thighs tightly when you gag again, feeling the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Drool is leaking from the corners of your lips as you let him use your throat, doing your best to breathe through your nose. You cough and gasp for air when he pulls out of your mouth letting you breathe.

“Fuck you look good on your knees, such a good mouth when it’s stuffed full.” Dean groans, wiping the spit on your chin away with his thumb. “Surprised you’re not begging to have that little pussy filled yet.” 

“I told you Sir, I don’t beg.” you remind him with a cocky smirk on your lips. 

Dean hauls you up from the floor by your hair and pushes you back against the desk behind you. He lifts you until you're sitting on the surface. You can’t help but wince as the sting from the cane's whips shoots across your skin but Dean continues stepping between your legs.

“You sure baby girl? You sure you don’t want my big thick cock stretching out that tight little cunt?” He asks with a smirk, tugging you towards the edge of the desk so that his cock is pressed against your soaking wet heat.

“Oh, I want it, Mr Winchester. I’m just not gonna beg for it.” 

You smile reaching up and pulling his tie free from his jumper and wrapping it around your hand. 

He pulls his hips back and moves a hand between you both, pushing two fingers inside your tight wet pussy easily. Cocking his eyebrow he smirks, curling his fingers as he starts to move them inside you and his thumb brushes over your clit, back and forth teasingly. He chuckles when a moan is forced from your lips and you roll your hips down into his hand.

“So, is that still a no? If my fingers feel that good, just imagine how good my cock would feel,” he challenges you, licking his lips when you let out another deep moan and your free hand moves from the desk to grip his wrist, feeling it tense as he twists it, his muscles flexing as his hand moves.

“F-Fuck you!” you gasp, squeezing your eyes closed when he speeds up the movements of his fingers.

“Now that’s not very nice, is it little girl? You’re gonna beg for my cock or you don’t get to come.” The grip you have on his tie tightens as you buck your hips against his hand, chasing your release but you keep your lips tightly shut. However, before you can get there Dean removes his fingers and pushes them between his lips, leaving you a whimpering mess on the desk, slick soaking your inner thighs and you groan feeling your orgasm ebb away. 

“I’ve got all night, so either you can keep pushin’ me or you can do as you’re fuckin’ told.” 

You grumble something under your breath and Dean smirks, getting his lips closer to yours and then suddenly he turns his head, pressing his lips to your ear.

“Say it again.” He practically purrs, dragging his teeth over your earlobe and wrapping his hand around your throat. It just rests there, the pressure practically non-existent, but God does it feel good.

“I already said it once, Dean. I’m not saying it again,” you grumble, meeting his dark green eyes when he moves his head to look at you again.

“What did you just call me?” he growls deep in his chest, fingers tightening around your throat.

“You fuckin’ heard me,” you say, biting back your smile when his other hand wraps in the back of your hair and he pulls harshly.

“Maybe I should just use your throat again, get myself off and let you sort yourself out. What do you think slut? It’s your last chance to do as you’re told.”  

“Fine. Fuck me, please!” you practically shout.

“You can do better than that.” He seems to think for a moment before a smirk stretches across his perfect lips. “I want you to say, I’m such a needy little cock slut, pretty please will you fuck me Sir.” He laughs, seeing the annoyance cross your face when he releases your throat and wraps his hand around his aching cock and starts pumping it in his fist.

His cock nudges your entrance, just the swollen head of it slipping in and out repeatedly as he bites into his lip, teasing you mercilessly until you start to feel your orgasm getting closer…  Then he stops,  waiting for it to go away completely before he starts all over again. Your heart is racing in your chest and you can hear your blood pumping in your ears. You meet his eyes again and yet another moan is ripped from your chest. Your voice is shaking when you finally speak. 

“I’m such a needy little cock slut. Pretty please will you fuck me,  Sir?”

Your mouth drops open when he snaps his hips, thrusting forward roughly, burying his cock inside you to the hilt so that his balls are pressed against your ass.

“See. That wasn’t so hard was it? All you had to do was admit you wanted this tight little cunt filled with my cock,” he mocks you, pulling you into another demanding kiss as he picks up a punishing rhythm. The kiss is messy and nowhere near as controlled as your first, it’s all teeth and tongues. Then you feel it, sparking in the pit of your stomach like a blazing fire and heat is prickling across your skin. “You gonna come all over my cock my little slut?” Dean grunts feeling your walls flutter around him as your pussy spasms with every snap of his hips.

“Fucking God. Yes! Yes! Please Sir, faster,” you beg, desperate for the release you’re right on the edge of.

“Fuck! Such a good girl. Go on, you can do it. Show me those pretty eyes when you come baby. Look at me.” He moans his demand as you start to thrust against him matching his pace the best you can to chase your release.

Your entire body arches against him when your orgasm hits, all you can hear are your own moans and Dean’s grunting as he pushes through your release.

He doesn’t give you time to come down from your orgasm before he turns you over and presses you down into the desk. Pulling your hips up he pushes back inside you with ease, groaning when your walls stretch and clench around him again. His fingers start to dig bruisingly into your hips but it all feels so damn good. 

You sit up, resting your hands against the desk, moaning loudly when one of his hands fists in your hair and he smacks your still red ass with his hand, pulling a whine from your lips as it stings that much harder.

“Come on, Sir, you can do better than that. Wanna feel you inside me for days, fuck me like you mean it,” you taunt him, feeling him respond immediately, the snap of his hips somehow getting harder and faster. The echo of your ass bouncing off of his hips sounds loudly around the room, coupled with your moans and whimpers, mixing with his growls, grunts and groans. “You gonna fill me up Sir?” 

As soon as the words are out of your mouth he tugs harder on your hair, forcing you back against his chest and rips your shirt in half.

“You talk too fuckin’ much,” he grunts against your neck, cupping your bra clad breast in one of his big hands as his hips continue to slam into your ass. His free hand wraps around your throat and keeps you there, this time his fingers tighten and you can’t hold back the gasp.

“Come on slut, rub that little clit for me, make yourself come. Wanna feel that tight cunt squeeze me again,” he growls against your neck as he drags his teeth along the skin.

This time you do as he asks, wanting nothing more than to come all over the thick cock that’s buried deep inside you.

“So close, Sir. Gonna come all over your cock again,” you whine desperately, your fingers move quickly over the tightly wound bundle of nerves.

Then the hand cupping one of your tits wraps around your waist and you scream as fucks into you almost painfully, practically ripping the last orgasm from you. He’s not far behind, you feel his hips start to stutter as your thighs shake from the intense orgasm you had just endured. You're sure if he wasn’t holding you up you would be on the floor.

“Fuck. Y/N.” Dean growls when he finally falls over the edge and his own orgasm hits hard, he throws his head back with the final pumps of his hips and he fills you so deep, you can feel his release leaking from your abused cunt and down his cock.

Pulling his cock from your tight wet heat,Dean stumbles back with his arms around you, making you laugh when you both fall awkwardly into his desk chair. His ass just barely in the seat and yours on his thigh. You drop your head back against his shoulder with a lazy smile, seeing Dean return it as he presses a quick but firm kiss to your lips.

“Jesus, woman. That was something else.” Dean grins brushing the sweaty hair back from your forehead.

“It sure was, Sir.” you smirk, tucking his tie back inside his jumper.

“I think you can probably just call me Dean now.” His wink still manages to do things to you. As you stand to pull down your skirt, he follows you, pushing his softening cock back into his boxers and does his belt up.

“Okay well, are you working again tomorrow Dean?” 

“Hmm, yeah. I think I might just have to be. Why were you lookin’ for round two?” He asks knowingly, gripping your thigh roughly. 

“Because as it turns out you do have detention again tomorrow.”

“Guess I can get my panties back then huh?” 

“Possibly. I guess we’ll see if you’ve learnt your lesson and you can be a good girl.”

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[unforth]

🤔 Destiel as teachers/professors please and thank you! ❤

Day 1: 

To whomever uses this lectern during the 9:40 to 10:40 lecture period: I teach in this room from 8:30 to 9:30 and from 10:50 to 11:50, and I was hoping you’d not mind if I leave my things in this lectern cubby. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to ask you in person, but I’m across campus for a discussion group from 9:40 to 10:40. Thank you for your understanding. - Prof. Novak.

Hey, this is Winchester - that’s absolutely not a problem. Man, whoever did your schedule was a dick bag.

Day 3:

Thank you for accommodating my challenges. And yes, unfortunately, my department head is expressing his displeasure at my disputing one of his recently published papers. However, I will manage - the better with your cooperation. -Prof. Novak.

That’s Zach Adler, right? He’s got one hell of a reputation. Makes me so fucking glad that the history dept is way more laid back. -Winchester

Day 5:

Yes Adler is formidable but I have been in the religious studies field for 15 years and unfortunately, zealots are an unfortunate occupational hazard. By the way, I think you forgot your tie - is this yours? -Prof. Novak

Thank you thank you thank you I’ve been looking for this since Wednesday. -Winchester

Day 8:

Hey Novak thanks for finding my tie here’s a token of my appreciation. -Winchester

Day 10:

I’m unclear why you felt the simple nicety of returning your property necessitated a gift of home made pie, but I’m not unappreciative. Allow me to return the courtesy. -Prof. Novak

YOU MADE ME PIE? YOU MADE ME PIE! -Winchester

Day 12:

That pie was a religious experience. Novak you are the apotheosis of your field. -Dean Winchester.

Day 14:

I’m glad you enjoyed it! -Castiel Novak

So I was thinking...next time I forget something, it’d be way easier for you to get it back to me if you had my number. Dean Winchester, [phone].

Unknown Number (11:51 am): Thank you for providing me with a more expedient means of contacting you. This is my number.

Dean Winchester (12:02 pm): hey no worries it’s my pleasure. btw I got office hours right now and since Zach is a dick and your office is right next to his I thought maybe you’d rather eat on the fifth floor with me instead?

Castiel Novak (12:03 pm): That sounds excellent. I’m going to the cafeteria now, can I get you anything?

Dean Winchester (12:04 pm): Time for us to have an actual conversation instead of just trading notes on the lectern?

Castiel Novak (12:04 pm): I believe that can be arranged. And I will also bring you salad. Man cannot live on pie alone.

Dean Winchester (12:05 pm): Matthew 4:4. But hey, don’t knock it til you try me.

Dean Winchester (12:06 pm): Oh hell I mean me.

Dean Winchester (12:06 pm): fuck fuck fuck I mean don’t knock it til you try IT

Castiel Novak (12:07 pm): Don’t know, that sounded like a Freudian slip to me.

Dean Winchester (12:07 pm): It wasn’t I’m just an idiot I’m sorry please don’t file a 531.09

Castiel Novak (12:08 pm): Relax Dean. I’m not angry. I’d be happy to try...anything you have on offering. Take that whatever way you are most comfortable with.

Dean Winchester (12:09 pm): Oh thank god. See you soon?

Castiel Novak (12:10 pm): Trust me, God has nothing to do with it, and I most definitely look forward to seeing you soon.

Setting his phone down, Dean smiled.

Oh, fuck yeah. I am in like Flynn...

(send me a ship and a trope/AU/kink and I will write a more-or-less three sentence ficlet!)

[imbiowaresbitch]

Wooing Professor Winchester

Square filled: older omega, younger alpha

Ship: destiel

Rating: explicit

Tags: alternate universe-university/college, alpha cas/omega dean, professor dean, t.a. castiel, explicit sexual content, mention of mpreg

Summary: T.A. Castiel has been in love with Professor Dean Winchester for years. It's time he did something about that.

Word count: 4354

Created for @spnabobingo

***

Cas closed the door behind the last of the students, the last of the office hours for the year, with a great sigh. There were the final papers to grade, the final exams to administer and grade, but then he was free. He eyed the professor at his desk. Free to act.

 

Professor Winchester was a gorgeous Omega at thirty, and Cas had lusted after him from the moment he first took a course taught by him six years prior. Now as his T.A. they had a professional relationship, but an unbalanced one. The young Alpha had had enough. He was twenty-four, not a child, and was done waiting to make his move.

 

Might as well start as things properly, he thought to himself and deftly turned the lock. No sense in having someone walk in while he was attempting to seduce the handsome Omega.

 

At the sudden click, Professor Winchester looked up. “All done for the day, Castiel?”

 

“Not yet, Mr. Winchester. There was something I wanted to ask you,” Cas began, rolling his eyes as he noted the Omega had already returned to his notes.

 

“Mmmm, I’m all ears.” The professor rolled his shoulders, wincing, and Cas felt as though he’d struck gold. He casually stepped behind the chair and began a brisk, professional massage, ignoring the swift, surprised intake of breath. “Castiel?”

 

“You seem tense. Thought I could help.” Cas continued the massage, working over iron-hard knots until Professor Winchester was melting under his hands. The Omega’s delicate fragrance mellowed, softened, and Cas fought back a low rumble of approval. Not yet.

 

He worked his fingers up the nape of the professor’s neck, a touch more lightly, and watched as his chin sank down to rest on his chest with a guttural moan that Cas’ imagination went wild. Professor Winchester rolled his head on his neck and removed his glasses, leaning into Cas’ touch. A soft, felt-more-than-heard purr sounded in the room, and Cas applied his nails gently to his superior’s hairline, teasing lightly as the purr intensified.

 

Then Professor Winchester sat up abruptly, dislodging Cas’ hands, the back of his neck flushing red with the force of his blush. “Castiel, I--”

 

“Don’t ask me to stop,” Cas interrupted, trailing his nails upward into his superior’s hair again. “Don’t push me away.”

***

Read it on AO3.

@malmuses @cr-noble-writes @cutelittlekittykorner @queenmaire19 @roobear68 @fpwoper @just-another-busyfangirl @currentlyfangirling99 @fangirlingtodeath513 @envydean @nickelkeep

[hitori-alouette]

Art for Lux Aeterna by thatpeculiarone

For the DeanCas Mini Bang, I had the pleasure of collaborating with @ilovetodreamx <3

The art was made using different mediums, including pencils, ink, watercolors, and Photoshop!

This fic is amazing! If you like ghosts, psychics and ancient gods, you should read it now! READ IT HERE!

You can also see the art on AO3 HERE!

[ellen-of-oz]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 17/17 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sarah Blake/Sam Winchester Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Mary Winchester, Sam Winchester, Sarah Blake (Supernatural), Michael (Supernatural), Aaron Bass, Dick Roman, Lisa Braeden, Bobby Singer, Jo Harvelle, Ellen Harvelle, Missouri Moseley, Linda Tran, Gabriel (Supernatural), Garth Fitzgerald IV, Bess Myers, Tessa (Supernatural), Benny Lafitte, Max Banes, Alicia Banes, Olivia Lowry, Charlie Bradbury, Becky Rosen, Supernatural (TV) Characters, Original Characters Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, School Reunion, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Everyone Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Engineer Dean, Astrophysicist Castiel (Supernatural), Stanford University, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexual Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Fluff, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Living Together, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words Series: Part 1 of Poets Summary:

Dean Winchester was happy to leave the pain of high school behind and move to California to be with his best friend, Cas Novak. Ten years later, the past is dredged up again when he receives an invitation to his high school reunion. He's reluctant to attend because, while he's been successful in many areas of his life, he's yet to settle down with a romantic partner. Cas offers to attend with him, and after they are mistaken for a couple multiple times, suggests that they could pretend to be a couple for the reunion. Dean is only too happy to agree. During their week in their hometown, a series of events pushes both Dean and Cas to closely examine the feelings they've pushed aside for years.

[saltnhalo]

Hello you talented fucker you! I'd like to request a mix of #13 and 'paint' as a prompt please. 😚 Thank yooooou!

“Who did this?”

Today is Castiel’s last art class with Professor Winchester.

It’s a relief to almost be done with his whole degree, but at the same time, he’s been dreading this one class for a number of reasons. Firstly, because this may well be the last time he ever sees the cute professor he’s been crushing on since almost the first day of his course, but secondly…

He’s taken a risk today, and it’s not one he’s sure will pay off.

Once he makes it to the art rooms, he carefully uncovers his canvas and sets it on an empty easel—right up the end of the row, where hopefully no-one will see it. No-one but Dean. Then he takes a seat with the rest of his classmates where, thankfully, all the canvases are turned away from them, a row of wood and white but no paint to be seen.

When Professor Winchester walks in, with his wide smile and easygoing saunter and the green eyes that Cas could stare into for hours, his heart begins to beat double-time against his ribcage. His submission for this final assignment is risky, and it has every possibility of blowing up in his face, but he’s hoping against hope that it doesn’t.

“Morning, guys!” Dean says as he drops his bag onto his desk and leans back against it. His jeans are ripped and paint-splattered and when he grins at his students, it feels like his gaze lingers on Castiel for a fraction longer than everyone else. “How are we all today?”

He gets a variety of responses in turn, but Cas stays quiet—he’s not sure that he trusts himself to speak right now. He’s too nervous.

Today’s class is a short one. It’s mostly for everyone to submit their final assignments and ask any last-minute questions about the exam, and for Dean to wrap up the class. Before he dismisses them all for the last time, though, Dean takes a moment to check out all the different canvases that have been submitted.

The directions for this assignment had simply read: paint something beautiful.

Castiel’s breath sticks in his throat as Dean peruses each canvas. The class has fallen to quietly chatting with one another while their teacher takes a moment to look at their work, but not Castiel; his eyes are firmly on Dean.

He watches as Dean’s gaze flicks from one painting, to the next, to the next.

And then he gets to the end of the row, and his gaze falls on Castiel’s canvas.

For a few seconds, Dean just stares.

He stares, and then he reaches out to touch it.

“Who did this?” he asks, and when he lifts his gaze, it lands right on Castiel. There’s no way to discern the emotion in his eyes.

There’s also nowhere to hide.

“I did,” Cas says quietly, half-raising his hand. His classmates turn to look at him, but all he can feel is the burning intensity of Dean’s gaze. He swallows.

Dean looks back down at the canvas, running his fingertips lightly along the edge of it. “Cas, could you stay back for a few minutes?” He doesn’t lift his gaze from the painting. “Everyone else, you guys are free to go.”

His classmates stare at him as they pack their stuff up and leave, talking quietly amongst themselves. Castiel just sits on his chair and stares down at the ground. He feels almost as though he’s going to be sick—there’s no way to know what Dean is going to say to him, how he’s going to react to the painting.

Once the room has emptied out, Dean picks the canvas up off the easel and carries it over to where Castiel is sitting. He pulls up a chair opposite him and sits, the bottom of the canvas resting on his thighs.

For a few long moments, no one speaks. Dean just looks at the painting in his lap, and Cas wonders if it’s possible to have a stress-induced heart attack at the age of 22.

“So this is your ‘something beautiful’, huh?”

This time, when Dean looks up, there’s a smile curling his lips. He spins the canvas around on his thighs to face Castiel, who feels his cheeks heat up.

On the canvas, painted in strokes of acrylic with such care that it looks almost perfectly lifelike, is a single green eye.

It’s half-closed and looking away to the side, framed by thick, sweeping lashes. The side of the nose can be seen, painted in less detail, as can the faint dusting of freckles beneath, but the main focus and painstaking care of the painting is that single eye.

To someone who doesn’t know Dean, it would just look like an intricately detailed painting, but for anyone who does know the art professor… The likeness is unmistakable.

“Yes,” Castiel says, softly but clearly. He made this decision three nights ago, and he’s sticking with it now. “Those eyes have been distracting me for four years now. It was all I could think of when you gave us this assignment.”

Dean’s smile widens. “And this was your way of telling me that? Go big or go home?”

“You could say that, yes.” Dean seems to be taking all of this well, and it’s bolstering Cas’s confidence, but… it’s all for nothing if he can’t take this last step. He gathers up all his courage, takes a deep breath, then asks, “Did you want to get a drink with me sometime?”

Time feels like it stands still. Dean’s eyes widen slightly, but then—

Then he grins, slow and easy and warm. “Once all your finals are over and I’m not your teacher any more? I’d fucking love to get a drink with you, Cas.”

Castiel’s answering grin must be even wider than Dean’s. “Alright then, after finals. It’s a date.”

[hekate1308]

Brushes and Systems

A bit of destiel fluff. Enjoy!

Dean Winchester was not the most patient of men. Normally he would have claimed that looking after his niece was one of the few exceptions to that rule, but today, he had a headache, he had spent the last night grading papers, he’d had another fight with the dean over their budget, and all he wanted was to just lean back and relax for one second.

“Sally, come here – I told you to –“

“But Uncle Dean” she whined.

He sighed and kneeled down so that he could talk to the five-year-old at eye level. “Look, I know the playground is fun, but we said we would go get some ice cream, right?”

The allure of ice cream proved too much for her and she nodded.

He stood up. “There we go.”

She took his hand, so he figured they were alright.

And then a voice spoke up. “So that is how you get them to accept the rules of the system, is it? Bribery?”

He turned his head to see a – well, an admittedly pretty hot guy; only that he wasn’t wearing shoes, his shirt had seen better days and was splattered with paint all over, and Dean didn’t think he even knew what a comb was. “Since when is getting ice cream turning them into a part of the system?” he asked, perhaps more hotly than he intended – he couldn’t help it; no matter what “system” this guy believed in, Dean already knew what it entailed – some form of government control, most likely, the opinion that people should just do what they wanted at all times, and no sense of order whatsoever. He hadn’t worked his way up from his humble beginnings to be told that he was only a “part of the system”, as some of his students, who had tried such arguments on him in the past, well knew.

“Yes, well, but she wanted to keep playing – isn’t that right sweetie?” the man asked and Sally, to Dena’s relief, huffed and stood up straight. It failed to make her seem taller, but she was apparently satisfied as she replied firmly, “I am not your sweetie. Uncle Dean calls me buttercup now and then, and mommy and daddy have their own nicknames, but I am not your sweetie!”

“Ah, you see, the system got to her already” Dean told the guy. “She has already accepted the nicknames bestowed on her. There’s no hope for her, now.” And he swept his niece up in his arms and away from very hot but sadly a bit cuckoo guys.

Dean didn’t think he’d see the man again. Which in some ways was a shame – he could have used some eye candy in his life – but on the other, well…

Still. He spent a week pointedly not thinking about him and then decided to go to the park during his lunch hour – to enjoy the sun there.

In fact, he would later remember that it had been the first day that week that he hadn’t thought about the guy, which at that time he would have called a good omen; but as he ate his sandwich and then leaned his head back to enjoy this beautiful day in the first week of May, he really didn’t think of anything at all.

That changed when he slowly became aware of something that sounded like a brush gliding across a canvas.

He opened his eyes to find the guy who had declared his niece to be a part of “they system” having actually put up a canvas close to him and now…

“Are you painting me?” he demanded. He was rather sure that people had to ask one’s permission before doing that.

“I am not doing any harm! The bench is a rather pretty subject, you see –“

The bench. He was actually going to use the damn bench as an excuse? Dean huffed. “Yes, well, I don’t see why you would want to paint a part of the system, so if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my responsibilities – you know, the thing you probably don’t care for.”

And he would have stormed off if the man hadn’t run after him, holding onto his canvas and all. “Wait!”

Dean really had no reason to stay. He had no reason to listen to the guy. He certainly had no reason whatsoever to stop walking.

Which was probably as good an explanation as any to why he did.

“I’m sorry” the man said, surprising him, “But I had just had a fight with my twin brother about how I should get a job and stop that artsy nonsense and I had probably smoked a little too much weed” – alright Dean could have gone without knowing someone had been high around his niece, but still – “And you are very beautiful.”

Alright that was not something that many people had told Dean. He knew that he looked good of course, and few pf those who had tried to get into his pants had ever been slow to point it out – hell, he had met his best friend when he’d told him he was “smoking hot” and “by the way, I do like to have a bit of fun in my car now and then” – but beautiful? He blushed. “Thanks?”

“I – I admire beauty, you know” the guy continued and Dean realized with startling clarity that he probably rarely, if ever, discussed such things with other people. “I just want others to see the world like I do, if only for a few moments.”

Man, that was both one of the most touching and one of the saddest things Dean had ever heard. “Wanna get coffee?” he heard himself say.

The man stared, then beamed.

Castiel – who soon became Cas – turned out to be a pretty nice guy underneath it all, once they got to talk. In the third coffee shop they had tried to enter, since the first two had firm policies about serving men who didn’t wear shoes.

“Anthropology? That’s not what I would have thought –“

“What did you think I teach? Economy? Law? For some reason, auto shop is also high on the list.”

“Really?”

Dean shrugged. “People – once they get to guessing… you know how it is.”

Cas tilted his head to the side and thought about it. “Not really. They never really guess when it comes to me; they just assume and treat me accordingly.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean bit his lip. He could have pointed out that perhaps Cas should try and tame his hair or get some clean clothes or at least shoes if he didn’t want people to assume, but didn’t.

“I am happy I was wrong about you, though” he said softly and Dean swallowed.

“About anthropology?”

Cas gently retouched his hand. “About… the other thing.”

Their eyes met.

And just like that, Dean knew he was a goner.

He registered with relief that Cas didn’t really smoke weed on a regular basis – only when he felt very upset, and they soon decided that it was far better if he called Dean when this was the case. Mostly because after he smoked, his colour scheme got all out of whack, and no one wanted to see a picture of Cthulhu as Cas imagined him in purple and neon green.

He was also a pretty good boyfriend – comforting Dean after a hard day, showing him his paintings, happily playing with Sally while making conversation with Sam and Eileen once Dean had decided it was high time he introduced him to his family, even if his brother and sister-in-law had stared at his bare feet for a bit.

Yes, Dean Winchester was in love. Who cared if his boyfriend regularly ran around in what could at best be called rags? They were happy.

It wasn’t that Dean was ashamed of his boyfriend. It wasn’t. It was just that – well he didn’t want his boss and BFF to think he’d just brought someone he’d found on the streets to their fundraise. So he only thought it prudent to warn Crowley as to what to expect.

“A painter? If I had known you for for the artistic types, darling…”

“I am sure the world is a lot poorer for being deprived of your attempt at stick figures” he said lightly.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t see any problem with that – he does know how to use a knife and fork, does he?”

Dean grinned. “I make no promises.”

“Well” Crowley drawled, “At least it will be entertaining.”

It was, if not for the reasons Crowley or Dean would have thought.

When he arrived at Cas’ place and his boyfriend opened the door, he couldn’t help but stare. “Dude – is that a suit?”

Cas had indeed donned a suit. It was perhaps not the best-fitting one, his hair was as wild as ever and tying his tie had probed too much of a challenge, but still – this was Cas looking more respectable, for lack of a better word, than Dean had ever seen him.

He shuffled his feet – he was even wearing black shoes – and looked anywhere but at Dean. “I thought – you know how I feel about – but this is your place of work – I wouldn’t want to reflect poorly on you.”

“Oh trust me, you don’t” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled him into a kiss. “Tell you what, though” he grinned, “Before your first exhibition, I am taking you to the tailor’s to get a proper suit.”

He did so six months later.

Two months afterwards, Cas showed him a picture of a ring he’d painted.

Dean’s answer came quickly.