dean winchester who’s obsessed with boobs and sucking on them.
it all started as a sexual thing, another way to make the girls under him writhe with pleasure. he’d take their nipples between his fingers and twist them until long moans we’re dragged from their lips—anything to make them feel good, just so he can feel good in return, at least for a second.
but then it started transforming into something else. he’d fondle the soft mounds in his hands, brush his lips against the hard little points of them, and run his tongue all over them. he’d suckle softly, then a little more earnestly. a hint of teeth, soft suction sounds in his ears, the girl’s hands running through his hair.
oh, it felt good. for the first time, dean let himself indulge in selfish desires. he’d kiss down every girl’s throat and around her chest, spending more time than he probably should tending to her tits. sometimes girls loved it, sometimes they were indifferent to it. whatever it was, they were so blissed out by the end of the night that they didn’t seem to care about his weird fixation.
then you came into his life, and it became a whole other thing. he found his hand reaching for your breasts whenever he was sad, or hurt, or just angsty and in need of comfort. he’d lay his head on your chest and unconsciously mouth at the tender curves of you, lips sloppy over your shirt and fingers twitching against your flesh.
whenever you have sex—always so intimate, whether you’re going slow and deep or fast and hard, always with love shining in your eyes and your bodies fusing into one—he spends hours kissing your chest, leaving red and purple bruises all over it, your nipples sore and rosy by the time he’s done with you.
it’s always worse, when he’s gently thrusting into you and you’re petting his hair, pawing at his cheeks and murmuring soft words of reassurance, praise whispered in his ears and sweet-nothings pressed to his lips. he finds himself resting his forehead over your heart and blinking back stupid tears, his jaw working overtime as he suckles on you and lets the warmth of your adoration wash over him.
you even let him do it just for the sake of it, when he’s in one of his self-destructive streaks or when grief claws at his heart hard enough to weaken his body. the two of you lie in bed, limbs tangled and skin bare, and he leaves kisses over every inch of your body. his lips attach to your sweet and salty flesh and his tongue draws circles against it until he’s satiated and sleepy, leaving one last wet peck against your cheek before drifting off into dreams with his face hidden in the crook of your neck.
“good boy,” you whisper in his ear, dean whimpers drowsily, already half asleep. “get some rest, my angel. i got you.”
dean will never admit to having mommy issues, but you know.
you’re also pathetically into it, but that’ll stay between you and your search history.
dean winchester is pathetic. you weren’t clueless to that fact when you started dating him, but perhaps you were oblivious to the degree of his stupid submissive tendencies and how much of a horny little mutt he is.
your phone dinged at 3:46pm, the sound echoing off the walls in the bunker’s library. a text from dean. a video.
“hi, baby. i miss you,” he says and smiles into the camera, looking all pretty under the afternoon sun. “sammy and i’ve arrived. he’s back in the room… but i’m out here by the pool. it’s kinda empty… which is good… i suppose… cause look–”
he pans the camera down; he’s in a shirt and boxers, his swim shorts tugged halfway down his thighs. you see the clear outline of his bulge hidden beneath the dark fabric.
“thought about your pussy the whole drive here. i couldn’t help it. i’m just– i’m aching for her. need her smothering my face… or my cock, baby. jesus, i’m so– fuck!”
he rambles on, slowly stroking himself over his boxers. soft needy noises leave his lips—the sounds barely making it into the video. you can tell he’s trying to be quiet, wanting to be a good boy only for you and your ears.
it doesn’t take much for dean to cum, whimpering and whining the whole video until his seed shoots out the leg hole of his boxers and coats his meaty thigh with thick ropes.
“fuck– oh! shit!” he gasps out breathlessly.
dean palms himself a few more times, just slowly, to get the last few drops out of his softening cock. he pans the video back up to his face, which is now all rosy and glowing with slight embarrassment. “that was all for you, sweetheart. can’t wait to get home to you. i miss you already.”
summary: you call dean a "good boy" as a joke, but things heat up when you notice the hard-on it gave him.
content: sub!dean, dom!reader, use of "good boy", praise, smut, unprotected piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), strip tease, dirty talk, dean smells reader's panties, face riding, orgasm denial, whiny dean winchester, overstimulation if you squint, dean comes inside reader, cockwarming, sweet dean post-orgasm
word count: 2.1k
note: okay, i don't know where the fuck this came from. inspired by those tiktoks of girlfriends calling their boyfriends "good boy" as a joke. i am a switch!dean believer. give that man an order and he will follow it.
masterlist
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“That’s a good boy.”
Dean nearly dropped the plate you had asked for.
“What?” He asked, looking at you bug-eyed. You bit back a teasing smile.
“I said, you’re a good boy.” You said, purring the last two words. It was out of character for you to speak like this, especially to him. You were his best friend, yes, but the most you had done was tell him a certain shirt looked hot on him. Now, you were watching him squirm under your intense gaze.
“Why-,” Dean started, but cleared his throat when his voice cracked halfway through, “uhm, why am I a,” he hesitated, “good boy?” He finished through gritted teeth.
“You did what I asked.” You shrugged and took the plate from him. In all honesty, you had only said the words because of some social media post that had caught your eye earlier that day. It was supposed to be something small, make him laugh at you, but now you were wondering if you should’ve just scrolled past it.
You looked back at Dean and narrowed your eyes at him. He was still staring at you.
“What?” You asked when he didn’t say anything. Was he mad at you?
“Nothing.” Dean replied, but it came far too quickly to be natural. You flickered your eyes across his face. He was avoiding eye contact. You caught a glimpse of his blown pupils and his cheeks flushed pink. A realization crossed your mind.
“Did you like that?” You asked, stepping toward him. His eyes fell to your hands, tracking them when they moved to place the plate on the counter. You ran your tongue over your teeth before smirking at him. “You like being a good boy?”
You placed a hand on his chest and swore you could feel his heart pounding. You flicked your eyes to his face.
“Do you like being my good boy?” You asked, a sultry tone falling over you. You felt him tense up. You trailed your fingertips down his chest. His breathing quickened when your hand landed on the bulge in his jeans. “I think you do.”
Dean swallowed down the shame he felt. He was supposed to be the big, bad hunter, not this. He squeezed his eyes shut when you leaned in to kiss his neck.
“You like being told what to do, baby?” You purred. A small moan fell from him before he could bite it back. You pulled away and Dean’s eyes shot open.
“Follow me.” You ordered, voice lilting softly. You turned on your heel and began to walk to your room. When you didn’t hear footsteps behind you, you wondered if you had messed up. Maybe he was uncomfortable, not turned on.
You had almost started to crawl under your bed to die from embarrassment when your ears caught the fall of his socked feet on the floorboards. You turned to face him.
“Get on the bed.” You pointed to where you wanted him. Your voice wavered slightly. You weren’t used to this, giving orders. It was… nice.
Dean sat in the spot and looked up at you. You bit your lip and walked closer until you were standing in between his legs. His hands flew to the backs of your thighs and pushed you so you were straddling his lap. Oh, Dean wasn’t completely powerless after all. You pushed your hips down into his.
“Do you wanna fuck me, De? Wanna feel me squeeze around your cock when I come?” You breathed into his ear and bit down on his earlobe just enough to pull a noise from him. His hands gripped your ass.
“Yes.” Dean breathed out. You licked your lips and kissed him. He kissed you back hungrily.
You pushed his chest, causing him to fall back onto the bed. Your fingers made quick work of unbuttoning his flannel. You ran your nails down his exposed chest. It didn’t leave any scratches, but it did make Dean groan.
“Are you gonna be a good boy and let me take what I need?” You asked. Dean nodded. You smiled and he could see the flash of desire in your eyes. You bent down and licked up his abs. If you were going to do this, you would take full advantage of it.
“Mmm, nice and hard for me?” You hummed out when your clit brushed against his bulge through your leggings.
“Yes,” Dean hissed in pleasure, “all for you.”
You rolled your hips down again and moaned theatrically. Sure, it felt good, but you liked the way he reacted to your noises more than the actual pressure. Just as you had hoped, Dean squeezed your ass again.
You stood from him and raised an eyebrow when he whined in protest. Who knew Dean Winchester was so needy? Oh right, you did.
You stripped for him. It was all for his pleasure. You were just having fun making him feel good. Your arms pulled your shirt up slowly, hands kneading your breasts through the fabric before exposing them to him. His mouth was practically watering at the sight.
You turned your back to him. Your fingers hooked around the waistband of your leggings and you worked them down your legs. You were a little clumsy pulling them off your feet, but Dean didn’t see to mind. The only thing between him and your throbbing core were the lacy green panties. You thanked past-you for choosing the pair, knowing the color matched his eyes almost perfectly. You shuffled them off and let them hang from your finger, dangling them in front of Dean’s face.
He leaned his head forward just enough to stick his nose into the wet patch, moaning at the idea that he had anything to do with this. You licked your lips again and dropped the underwear to the ground. Dean opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off with another push. He fell back to the bed and you crawled on top of him.
“Have a taste, baby.” You encouraged, positioning yourself over his face. Dean blew out a breath to steady himself. You moaned softly at the pressure, hands resting on his where they held your thighs. You almost demanded he do something to pleasure you, but the words were forgotten when his tongue stuck out and licked up your slit. Your breath hitched in your lungs when he pulled you down, putting all your weight on his face.
His nose nudged at your clit while he ate away, his hunger for you tearing through any restraint he had left. You buckled over in pleasure when he groaned into you, the vibration tearing through your pussy.
“Don’t stop,” you practically begged, forgetting for a moment that you were the one in control. You felt his tongue push into your hole. It didn’t go too deep, but between the muscle inside of you, his nose nudging on your clit, and his lips moving against you, it was becoming too much. You whined out his name when your climax came, grinding down on his face.
You were feeling pretty good right now, but you wanted more. You clambered off of him and turned to sit just above his head. His lips were swollen and he was smiling like an idiot, but you figured he wasn’t too pussydrunk to listen to you.
“Take your jeans off.” You demanded. You were surprised at the strength in your voice, the bossiness you thought you only had when you were angry shining through. You watched him do as you told, mouth slightly parted when his dick sprang up and hit his stomach. His eyes trailed to you and he waited for the next order, fists balling up to keep from grabbing at you.
You tore your eyes from his length to blink up at him.
“Come fuck me.” You said simply, but it was like they were Dean’s trigger words. He launched himself at you, dragging your body to the edge of the bed. Caught up in the moment, he pushed into you without a condom. That would be tomorrow’s problem. Now, you were only worried about how many times he could get you to come.
“So tight,” Dean moaned, thrusting his hips into you. Your eyes fluttered to the ceiling.
“S’all for you, Dean.” You managed to get out. “All for my good boy.” You were making a point of using that until he told you to stop, not that it would be any time soon. The name made him choke out a breath and increase his pace.
“Ah!” You seethed when his hip bone bumped against your clit continually, back arching up. You grabbed his face in your hand and squeezed his cheeks together before kissing him.
“You’re fucking me so good, baby.” You moaned out. You felt his hips stutter for a moment. He needed help, the praise was getting to him. You managed to flip him over. He was now on his back and you were on top of him. You don’t know where the strength had come from.
You lifted your hips before slamming them back down. The tip of his cock sponged against your g-spot and you sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods above for giving Dean that slight curve. You cried out when his thumb rubbed into your clit, Dean returning the noise when you clenched around him.
“You’re such a good boy, listen to everything I say,” you babbled, rubbing your hands over your breasts. You rolled your eyes back, the words meant for Dean somehow increasing your own pleasure.
“Gonna come,” Dean warned you, swallowing when your eyes shot open. He watched a crazed look cross your face.
“No!” You bit out. You sucked in a breath while you continued to ride him. “You don’t come until I say you can.”
Dean choked on his protests. His head flung back in both concentration and ecstasy. Fuck, he wanted to come but you holding him back was making it so much better. You panted out short breaths, almost hyperventilating. You reached a hand down to squeeze his balls, smiling menacingly when he gripped the sheets on the bed. It’s not like you enjoyed seeing him in pain, but knowing that you held so much control over him had a flurry of ideas flooding through you.
“Can I come?” Dean whined. You were close, oh so close, to another orgasm, but not quite there yet.
“N-no.” You stuttered out, eyes closing again to keep up your stamina. You honestly didn’t know you had it in you to move like this, with this much energy. You chalked it up to the new experience. If you had known it felt this good to be in power you would have done it a long time ago. Then again, maybe it was just from being with Dean.
“Please, baby, please.” Dean begged, voice going up an octave when you rolled your hips down. You ignored him. He wouldn’t allow the release until you gave him the magic word.
You looked down at him again. Your chest warmed to see Dean reduced down to this whiny, needy mess underneath you. You wondered if any other girl had done this for him, if he had ever let them take control. You liked to imagine that you were the first, that you would be the thing that Dean would remember every time he was able to be submissive.
The thought made your knees buckle and you keeled over, forehead on Dean’s chest. You tried to lift your hips up again, but it was more of you grinding down onto him.
“Now.” You gasped. Dean made a strangled noise and you felt the warmth of his cum bloom into you. You breathed into his skin and swore you could see stars as your own release flooded into you. You closed your eyes to focus on it, your eyelashes butterflying against his abs.
Dean’s arms wrapped around you to tousle you to the side. He was still inside of you, his dick now soft. You were curled up against him, body wore out. You couldn’t remember a time when you had come so hard.
“We have to do that again.” You mumbled. Dean was able to find the energy -- from where, you didn’t know -- to chuckle. He stroked your hair, fingers tangle in between the strands.
“Later.” He answered, breathing in the scent of your hair. Your skin was tacky with sweat, and you were sure there would be many, many questions that needed to be answered tomorrow, but for now, you fell asleep in his arms, his dick still stretching you out.
dean’s hands gripped the soft skin of your hips as he groaned softly beneath you. his head fell back against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut and mouth falling open as more breathy moans escaped his lips.
you look down at him with a devilish grin, rocking your hips again, slow, teasing. you could feel him twitching inside of you, desperate for a release you refused to give him. not yet.
“please, baby…” dean panted out, his voice thick with need. he squeezed your hips tighter, trying to quicken your movements. “let me come, please…”
“not yet, dean. be patient.” you cooed teasingly, brushing a finger gently down his cheek. dean whined softly from the touch and you felt his hips twitch, so desperate to just fuck up into you.
you laughed lowly, continuing the slow rolls of your hips as dean whimpered and begged softly, cock twitching inside of you, getting needier and needier by the second. you were enjoying this, and you weren’t going to stop anytime soon.
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : sub!camboy!dean winchester x gn!dom!reader.
𝐜.𝐰 : +18 MDNI. degradation. submission. dirty-talk. choking. dean tied up. cumming in pants. cum eating. ♬ .ᐟ
The leather bites into Dean's already bruised skin of his neck, choking him a way that has him both grunting for air and leaking inside his jeans.
Your voice, like a spiked bat wrapped in gauze, travels around the room like it's about to bite him if he stops rutting his hips upwards against your boot that's stomped down against his crotch.
"For someone as pretty as you, it's such a shame you're so fucking pathetic," There's no mercy or a single hint of affection behind your words, and they make him whine again, swallowed by the harsh material of the army green bag you shoved his head into just before you hit "REC" on the handycam propped up about a meter away from him.
He looks lovely like this, you think. Wanton and miserable, drooling through the jute and starting to wet a patch through the front of his pants.
Your boot leaves his crotch and you step away to pace around him slowly, still holding him on a tight leash you've made out of his own belt.
"D'you not think you're pathetic?" The length of the black leather belt gets slowly reduced as you wrap it around your leather-gloved hand, leaning down behind him to murmur into his ear.
One harsh tug from it and he's whining. "Yes! " Dean mutters out a cry, his hips canting upwards, desperate for the feeling of the sole of your boot against his confined cock again. "Y-yes, I'm pathetic—"
You've had him in this position for about half an hour now, granting and taking release away from him through the zipper, not even needing to untuck him from his boxers to have him practically sobbing for you.
Again; pathetic.
But, you can imagine that beautiful, needy expression on him face, those puckered lips and jade teary eyes staring up at you like he's just found out you're God and he's not surprised at all because you already give him everything he needs to survive, and it only makes sense.
And, oh, it's a beautiful sight. Even now—specially now—that three, almost four, of his five senses have been snatched away from him. He's completely reliant on you.
You decide if he cums tonight in front of the camera.
His wrists, tender and becoming raw against the tight rope, have started aching where you've tied them behind his back to the chair. The makeshift shackles on his ankles a little heavy where they sit right atop his socked feet.
He's so hard it hurts. It only makes it better.
"You just need me to stroke this pretty, needy dick, hm?" You've leant your body forward to lay your free hand over the boner fighting it's way up against the front of his jeans, greeting you with a pleasant twitch, the glove squeaking quietly to the friction.
A cruel smirk quivers on your lips when he lets out a meek cry, his head falling backwards against your shoulder.
Whatever pitiful moan just came out of his mouth you're sure it was your name, too lost in the moment, all of his blood pooling between his thighs.
Poor thing can't think before speaking. Too dumb in the middle of the heat.
You give his clothed erection a light, quick slap, and his whole body locks in for a moment, almost as if he's about to break, but he holds it in like the big boy he is.
"Stupid, little thing can't even get hit without thinking about cumming." Your nose brushes against the spot where the shell of his ear is supposed to be under the hood. "That's what you want? You want me to bruise you up real good so you learn how to not make a fucking sound until I say so?"
Dean nods eagerly, but that'll be something for another time. Now you're more focused on the tremble his thighs with the way he's holding his orgasm back.
You grin so hard the apple of your cheeks push the plain black colombina mask on your face a little upwards.
"Say it." Your demand yanks his spine straight, trying to fight off the heat licking down his lower belly.
"Want you to beat me up," It sounds muffled and gagged from the lack of air, but he still manages through it. "Want you to fuck me up. Wanna come— Please, I need to cum—"
He's the prettiest when he begs like the slut you know he is. In this storage room that smells like mildew and the sweat he's grown from forty agonizingly long minutes of working him up.
"You don't want anything that I don't tell you to." You cut him off meanly.
Where your hand pretends to set a boundary right over his bulged lap, his brain, severed by the heat, sees the chance to relieve himself. But he won't, not yet. Not until you let him.
Believe it or not, he's very obedient when he knows the prize will be worth it.
"...Not yet," There's an almost sweet tilt to your voice as the heel of your hand aggravates his ache. "...Not yet, baby, don't you fucking dare." You just coo against the back of his head when he writhes weakly against the chair.
Then, you squeeze him, and he can't even apologize before he's exploding behind the seams.
He's a mess of "m'sorry"s and "fuck"s while the orgasm rattles though his pent up body. You don't chide or pinch him for it.
You just pull the zipper down, freeing him as he's still coming in thin ropes that stain his jeans and make your hand sticky with his release.
"You've been good," Your other hand lets go of the belt to loosen it a little bit and fold the hood upwards just enough to uncover his mouth, taking what you've cooped up on your fingers to his mouth.
Needless to say, he opens up for you and licks your wrapped fingers greedily.
He's not even embarrassed that he just came in his underwear. He's just happy that he gests you to manhandle him like this.
It makes you smile fondly at him, your body facing half away from the camera. "You did good, baby." Your lips hover over his, leaving a peck on the left corner of his mouth, and he sighs contently, lax and spent on his seat.
After he's came almost completely down from his high, you step away from him and towards the camera, turning it off.
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : heyyy... it could've been better, but i think i'm getting my spark back. i'm severely sleep deprived.
Why did I just have a sudden vision mid-meeting about Dean lying on his front in bed, looking at his phone or whatever, and his reader-girlfriend climbing over him, for cuddles initially, but then his lil peach ass gets in the way and she starts grinding against him from behind and he's really into it?
I need to be put down. Yes, those reports look great. She comes, btw, face pressed into Dean's neck, moaning loudly. Dean does too just from dry humping the bed, gets himself all messy. Yes, absolutely, end of quarter sounds great. Somebody please shoot me.
dean winchester that just can’t help but moan when you wrap your hand around his throat, cutting the airflow just enough to make him realize that he doesn’t have the power, this time. dean winchester that just can’t help but whine and whimper to you, for the feeling of your hands on his body; stroking his cock, tugging on his hair, slapping that pretty freckled face. dean winchester that just can’t help but cry out your name when you finally give him the permission to come, thick ropes of semen flowing from his pinkish tip, coating your fingers that you immediately push into his mouth and against his tongue while his teary eyes look up at you.
