A/N: gonna write a Sam version and a Dean version next because honestly, I doubt I can write a threesome.
âWhat, we can't all three share a bedâŚâ he laughed before taking the far left side.
âFine.â You challenged laying in the middle of the bed beckoning for Sam to join you. Which he reluctantly did soon enough. The three of you laid on your backs not touching or well trying not to. âDean, can I please just get another room?â You pleaded rolling over to face him.
âLast night you were asking if we thought you were pretty babyâŚwhy you nervous now?â Dean smirked at you, turning to face you as well. Blood rushed to your cheeks and you quickly made your way to the bathroom locking the door. âReally DeanâŚâ Sam scolded before making his way over to the bathroom door.
âHey pretty girl, can I come in?â Sam gently knocked. He heard the lock click and made his way inside. You were sitting on the counter with your knees pressed to your chest and head down. âI already apologized for thatâŚI thought we were past itâ you whispered looking up at Sam tears pricking the corners of your eyes.
âI know baby girl, I'm sorry he is being a dickâŚI will go get another room if you want.â Sam sat beside you putting his arm around your shoulder. Then an idea hit youâŚtwo can play at that game. âSammy, do you want to help me with something?â An evil smile lit up your face.
The plan was in place, you would walk out of the bathroom and act like you were just fine sleeping between the brothers but you would only talk to Sam, Dean was getting the silent treatment. As you walked out of the bathroom Dean started apologizing he really looked like he felt guilty but the plan was in place. âI'm going for a swim Sammy, call me when you get a lead.â You said stripping down to your underwear and bra before walking out of the room.
âHey, waitâŚwhatâŚâ Dean's thoughts died on his lips. He turned to Sam âshe didn't even accept my apologyâŚâ he frowned. Sam just shrugged and got his laptop out to start looking into leads. Dean looked out the window at you swimming laps, feeling bad he decided to join you. He pulled his pants down and his shirt off before marching out to the pool.
âHey princessâŚIm sorryâŚâ he started sitting on the edge of the pool near where you were floating. âI will get you as many rooms as you wantâŚplease just talk to me.â You looked him up and down and damn if he didn't make you drool a little shirtless and pleading for your forgiveness. âFineâŚget in here and hug me Winchesterâ you said standing up and holding your arms out.
He jumped in and wrapped you in his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist and put your head on his shoulder. He backed up to the side of the pool and just held you. âNow that we are back on speaking terms, want to tell me why you really got so drunk last night?â His voice rumbled through his chest and you could feel it in yours as he spoke.
âI thought it would help me do something and it did not.â You spoke softly, enjoying his embrace. âReally guys?!...â Sam crossed his arms âwhy am I the only one working?â He pulled his bitch face. âJoin us thenâŚâ you giggled, swimming away from Dean toward the steps. He saw that glint of mischief in your eyes and know what was about to happen.
âNooooâŚno...heyâŚno..â Sam started backing away from you and your grabby wet hands. âC'mon SammyâŚDon'tcha want to hug meâ you pouted before darting towards him and hugging his waist. He looked down at you and smirked before jumping in the deep end with you still attached to his waist. He came up for air with you wrapped around him still.
âHeyâ Sam shook his hair out of his eyes and they met yours âHeyâ you smiled back. Dean cleared his throat having made his way to the deep end with you both. You floated backwards so your head was on Dean's shoulder and your feet were on Sam's âwe should probably get to work huh?â You sighed looking up at the beautiful sky.
The boys both agreed and the three of you made your way back to the room. Sam got first shower since all his clothes were wet. You could feel Dean's eyes on you. âTake a picture, it will last longer,â you joked before turning to look at him. âMaybe I willâŚâ he stood reaching for his phone on the table. You pulled the towel you had wrapped around you tighter and blushed.
Thankfully Sam exited the bathroom before Dean could close in on you. âMy turn!â You and Dean exclaimed in unison. In order to avoid another argument Sam suggested rock paper scissors. You threw rock, Dean threw scissors. You had recalled Sam saying Dean always picks scissors first.
You made your way into the bathroom and turned the shower on lukewarm just the way you liked it. While you were in the shower your mind drifted to how their bodies felt against yours in the pool. You ran a hand down your body finding your core already wet. You whispered a hoarse âffuckkâ while circling your sensitive clit. You pictured their hands exploring your body and kissing you all over.
You threw your head back and sped up your motions feeling the coil in your abdomen start to feel tight. âSam, Dean, ohh fucckâ you moaned a little louder than you meant to as you came. Hopefully they didn't hear that you thought to yourself as you finished getting cleaned up. You got dressed and left the bathroom acting like nothing happened.
Dean rushed into the bathroom without a word. Sam was at his computer jaw tense leg bouncing. So they must have heardâŚat least they were being cool about it. You sauntered over to Sam and wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind âhey Sammyâ you practically purred in his ear breath hot against his neck.
âHey pretty girlâ , his words going straight to your core. He spun the chair around and patted his lap for you to sit. You obeyed and straddled his waist. âYou have been quite the tease lately baby girlâ he searched your eyes for a sign he should stop. When he found none his hands captured your waist.
You looked down at him biting your bottom lip. His hand left your waist just long enough for his thumb to pull your lip away from your teeth shaking his head no. âGetting some mixed signals here princess, is it me or Dean that you want?â He inquired, tilting his head almost innocently. âB..bothâ you stuttered, looking away and to the ground.
You saw Dean's feet and raked your eyes up his body. âThink you can handle that sweetheart?â he asked with a smirk. You just nodded silently, eyes flicking between them looking for any hints of how they were feeling. âWhadya think SammyâŚthink she can handle us both?â He asked eyes running up and down your body.
âI think we should make her choose,â Sam smirked at you. You wanted to bite your lip again but instead you pouted and started to get off Sam but his hands held you tighter against his lap. âUh uh pretty girl you are staying right here until you decideâŚWho fucks you firstâ Sam growled in your ear.
They both looked at you like you were prey, and honestly, you were here for it. You could feel how wet you were already. You decided onâŚ..
â°.á tags: breeding kink. unprotected sex. coming inside. sam winchester is a horndog. 18+ mentions of an angsty ending
â°.á A/N: took me a good few minutes to whip up, whatevers
"Show 'er a bit of spine." Dean jokes, a small smile on his face.
"Hell no. She'd die from a hellhound before she saw my asscheeks."
Sam groans as his big, beautiful curved dick (mmmh) slams into your soft walls, soft and pliableâstretchable, along with his hips. Your hole is stretched tight around his cock, the cock that's sliding in 'n out with slick smeared everywhereâonly making the slide effortless with the greedy suck of your cunt.
The tingle that felt like heaven on earth started in your cunt, but who would you be to resist the spread of the stellar feeling, pulsing and releasing all over your body that was Sam's and Sam's only.
You're moaning like you're in a porn film, lights and all the works, but except, Sam's dick is just that good. Your eyes are rolling back, hair sticking to your flushed face, as he continues the unrelentless thrusts that sent shocks through you on each drag of his meaty, thick cock against your walls, hitting that spot deeeeep inside of you that made the drag so easy and slick, mmmh.
"Uh, uh, mmm, deeper, f-fuck, pound m-me," you choke out through the thick tears of pleasure, so, stellar, thick and fucking good.
"Baby," Sam breathes out, tone ragged, low, and oh so sexy. "Goin' as fast as I can."
"Ohâah."
Sam wishes you could see your face right now. It's fuckin' sexy, pure, unfiltered bliss that you would see on porno mags and erotic ads, and all he wants to do was fill you up with his babies.
Think, the kid a mix of him and you, maybe two, how you would get so beautiful an' soft and round because of himâbecause he bred you. The way to describe it? A primal urge that came from early humans.
His hips are still slamming into yours with a obscenely loud squelch, bubbles and heaps of wetness, the proud, milky white ring around his cock...
"Sam..." you say, with no exact reason, just to feel the silky sound of his name to roll off your tongue. "Feels, so, uh, good."
"That's right..." he coos. "'ts supposed to, baby."
The pressure in his stomach, everywhere, tingling, zapping, jolting like a facility of electricity spreads through his body.
"Mm, 'boutta..."
"Inside! Pleaseeee."
God, he always wants a fuckin' girl who begs. He lets out a long, drawn-out moan as he buries himself as deep as he could inside you, the rippling squeeze of your walls giving him an indicator of how deep he was (hint: very, very, ugh, deep), the warm tug in him spreading like butter on hot toast, so, warm, and...
His eyes rolled back into his head as he let out a long and (un)sexy moan, (shush, he'd watched porn before) drawn out, low, and mmh, feeling himself spill inside you in pulses as the warmth spreads. Spurt, by hot spurt.
Your legs spasm as you feel the cum deep inside youâsomething that you would never forget, as the spread of it made your insides warm, as he slid out with a wet pop.
tw: smut, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy (without getting pregnant duh), sub dean
it all started with your birth control pills; as soon as you made the choice to take them, the moment you told him you swore he almost fell on his knees to thank you properly!
and even if he denies it, nine out of ten times you two fuck (which the ocassion happens everyday) you do matting press, because he loves seeing your swollen little cunt filled with his hot liquid, most importantly, his sperm, his future babies.
does he even plan to have kids? he doesn't know. do you? he doesn't know either, but he likes to fantasize the moment his semen in all over your walls; seeing you pregnant with his child? the man gets rock hard for even thinking about it!
and dean, opposite to what the most thinks, it's sooo pathetic during sex. sure, sometimes he gets all bossy, but mostly he's the one getting bossed around.
no kidding, if you're riding him, or jerking him off, or blowing him off, he becomes such a moaning mess! dean tries to hide it at first, obviously, but as time goes by he just can't hold it back.
he literally begs you to let him finish inside of you, and the stupidness that the feeling of his manhood being deep, deep inside of your gummy walls brings to him makes him the loudest man in history.
apart from the begging, he would call you stupid nicknames (sometimes they make you laugh) and whine about you treating him poorly, such a drama queen...
âsugar... please, love, please, let me come, im beggin' youâ dean says, his right hand soothing your back as you ride him slowly, the other one cupping your left boob.
â dean, quiet, you're such a babyâ you say, rolling your hips.
â sweetheart cmmon... I'll be good to you â a moan interrupts him â I'll do anythin' you want baby, I.. I swear.. just let me... let me come inside darlin'â a moan interrupts him yet again, he rolls his eyes to the back.
you get tired of the begging (not really, he just looks really cute and it makes you feel bad), so you choose to finally make him come, fastening your rhythm.
and if anybody asked him, he would say he sees stars everytime you get to that final thrust, making your bodies look like a damn milk factory.
âthat's it, you were sooo good fo' me deanâ you caress his hair, your hips still kissing each other. you got closer to him, now being chest to chest, so you could kiss his lips. the feeling of his cock stretching your pussy just on the right spots drives you crazy.
as you pull out, you can hear him whine, because again, drama queen, duhhh!
he looks almost dissapointed that you won't get pregnant. not this time at least. his hot liquid that 5 seconds ago was still inside of you, mixed with your own, now coming out to find its way to the (now dirty) sheets.
you climb a little, sitting now on his abdomen. â love, what's wrong â you ask, your head slightly inclined to the left.
âwanted to stay inside of you...â dean says, his hands that were both once in your lower back, now are caressing your belly, where in his fucked-up mind, your baby it's in there. and if the lighting wouldn't be so bad, you could see a tear peeking out of his eye.
warnings: nsfw!! phone/voice kink, orgasm denial, lots of dirty talk, phone sex, hints of sexting, and praise.
synopsis: dean is away in another state, on a hunt with sam. it's only been roughly a day since he left, but you need him right now! giving into your needs, you send him a risquĂŠ picture. little did you know, that would change your night forever. (dean is dating reader btw)
The night stretches long and restless around you. Youâve been flipping through your phone for the past hour and a half, lost in old messages. Flipping through them, you find foggy videos of better nights than this one. Nights where Dean had your face slammed down in your sheets, voice low behind the camera, hips driving into you while his hands roamed around your body like he couldnât live without touching you.
You continue searching, before hovering your finger on one. The cover of the video was you, on your knees, lips parted with Deanâs cum all over your face. Another video; shaky, and dark, but the faint image of Dean under you was clear, as the sound of his tongue lapping up your wet cunt echoed through your quiet room.
Although usually filling to watch at night; tonight, they arenât enough. They donât scratch the itch, not this time. Not with Dean gone three states away, chasing some ghoul in a half-dead town, sleeping in shitty motels and eating gas station food. You already tried playing with yourself, making yourself orgasm maybe twice, but you needed more. You needed Dean.
Whining out, you kick off the blanket. Laying back on the bed, your fingers dance along the lace of your panties, teasing the damp fabric as your squirm with need. They were Deanâs favorite ones, a dark navy pair. The camera captures you splayed out, your nipples on full display with Deanâs worn flannel falling off your shoulders. With a breathy sigh, you slip your fingers beneath the lace. Your arousal could be seen with the camera, shining underneath the lace and on your inner thighs. The pale moonlight filtering through the windows made it barely visible, but enough for him to realize how needy you were.
A coy smile plays at the corners of your mouth as you snap the photo. Quickly flipping over on your stomach, you open the messages app with haste. Clicking on Dean's profile and pulling up the photo, you click send. No comments along with it, just an image, an invitation.
You donât even have time to second guess it before a read receipt appears.
Then, three dots show up.
Then they stop.
Before showing up again.
Dean - Are you fuckinâ serious right now?
You bite your lip, before heâs typing again.
Dean - Iâm gone for one damn day and youâre already like this?
Jesus Christ, sweetheart
And youâre touching yourself in my shirt?
You donât wait this time, you respond back with shaky hands.
You - Iâm sorryyyy
I miss you so much
I didnât mean to be bad, I just need you right now
Dean - Fuck
You are bad
Look at you, so needy you couldnât wait two fucking days
Your thighs clench.
You - Iâm so wet itâs starting to hurt
I need you so bad, baby
Please donât be mad
There was a long pause. Your stomach knots. Heâs gonna scold you. Punish you when he gets home. But-
Dean - Mad?
Sweetheart, Iâm sitting in the dark trying not to jerk off with Sammy passed out four feet away from me.
Iâm this close to losing it, and itâs all because my girl couldnât keep her hands off that pretty pussy when Iâm gone.
Thereâs a longer pause now. Stillness. The kind of quiet that echoes.
Your fingers are still resting against your soaked panties, legs starting to tremble slightly from the tension youâve been holding back. You stare at the screen, heart hammering. You donât breathe.
Your phone lights up, Deanâs calling you.
You swipe to answer before the first ring finishes. Thereâs silence at first-just the sound of your own shaky breathing and the low hum of something on Deanâs end. Then-
â..You got any idea what youâve done to me?â His voice is quiet but tense. Itâs like itâs straining through clenched teeth. âIâm lyinâ here in the dark, tryinâ to keep my fuckinâ noise down while Sammyâs over there snoring.. and my cock is so hard it hurts.â
A pause, before a low, strained laugh meets your ear. âAnd all I can see, is that picture. My girl, wearinâ my shirt, with her legs spread.â You donât dare make a sound. âI should be mad,â he mutters. You hear a quiet rustle- sheets? Maybe his zipper? âBut you look so goddamn pathetic in that photo, sweetheart. So needy. Like youâd do anything just to hear my voice? Is that right?â
Dean groans- quiet, cut off, like he bit it back behind his fist. He straightens out, before his voice drops an octave. âTell me, sweetheart. You want to touch yourself?â
You inhale sharply, too loudly. And he hears it. But, he lets the silence stretch. Itâs cruel, intentional.
âPut the phone on the pillow, lay back, and keep your mouth shut unless I ask you a question. You want me? My help? Youâre gonna earn it.â
You listen, quickly putting your phone on speaker and down on the pillow. You lean back, staring up at the ceiling, hardly daring to breathe.
âGood girl,â Deanâs voice rumbles from the speaker, after hearing you move around. You feel his words reverberate through you.
âNow, I want you to slip your hand inside those pretty panties. Nice and slow.â His command sends a shiver down your spine. Without hesitation, you allow your fingers to creep beneath the lace once again. A soft gasp escapes your lips at the contact.
âThatâs it, sweetheart. Feel how wet you are for me?â You nod, before realizing he canât see you. âYes,â you whisper, voice barely audible.
You hear his breathing quicken on the other side of the line, âKeep going, I want you to tease yourself. Play around your clit, donât you dare touch it directly yet.â
You obey, again, tracing teasing patterns around the sensitive bundle of nerves. Slowly, a knot coils in your core, your hips starting to buck upwards into your touch. âFuck, I can hear you,â Dean groans softly. âI can hear your fingers sliding around your pussy.. youâre dripping, arenât you?â
âYes,â you manage to choke out, cheeks flushing with embarrassment and desire.
âI bet if I was there, I could slide my cock right into your pussy. No warning, no prep. Just bury myself fucking balls deep.â Your breath hitches as you hear the subtle rhythmic sound of flesh meeting flesh from his side. The knowledge that Dean is stroking himself to the image of you touching yourself sends a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you.
His words paint a vivid picture in your mind. Your pussy clenches around nothing, aching to be filled. âPlease,â you whimper.
âGo on sweetheart, rub your pretty pussy. Nice and hard for me, show me how much you need me.â He pants quietly, the sound of his hand moving faster on his cock now more audible.
Spurred on by his encouragement, you obey eagerly, your fingers finding your aching clit and circling it firmly. A load moan escapes your lips at the needed stimulation, your back arching.
âMmm, yeah just like that. Fuck, I wish I was there to see you. To watch you play with your needy fucking pussy,â he groans, his breathing growing heavier and more erratic. The obscene sound of his hand pumping his shaft fills your ear, as if he was holding the phone right next to his dick.
Your other hand comes up to squeeze and knead your breast, pinching the peak of your nipple. You imagine him watching you, jerking off to the sight of you touching yourself so shamelessly.
âAhhh fuckkk, Iâmm gonna cum, Dean-ie!â you whimper desperately, feeling your climax building.
âNo,â Dean denies firmly, his voice tight with restraint. âNot yet, baby. You donât get to cum until I say so.â
You whine in protest, your hips bucking up into your hand as you try to chase your release. âPlease, I need.. I need it,â you beg, voice high and needy.
âPatience, sweetheart. Youâll cum when I fucking tell you to,â he growls his own pleasure evident in the way heâs panting into the phone. âFuck yourself on your fingers. Imagine itâs mine. Feel how deep Iâd go, curling them just to hit that spot you like,â His voice echoes through your ears as he guides you. You let out a choked moan, plunging two fingers knuckle-deep into your aching cunt. Your velvety walls clench greedily around the intrusion, drawing your digits in deeper. You imagine itâs Deanâs hand, his thick fingers claiming your pussy.
âThatâs my good girl, taking me so well,â he praises, his own breathing growing even more harsher as he listens to your sounds. âDonât forget about your clit. Rub her just like I would. Show me how much you need my touch, baby.â Obediently, you bring your other hand down, rubbing your throbbing clit in tight, desperate circles. Each flick of your fingertip sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, pushing you closer to the brink of ecstasy. You picture Dean above you, his intense gaze fixed between your spread thighs, exactly how he does when he's there with you.
Dean groans, the sound of his hand growing more desperate. Your fingers plunge in and out of your dripping sex, rubbing your clit wildly. Youâre so close, teetering on the very edge of climax. âCan I please cum, now?â You whimper, trying your best to hold back as you await his answer.
âF-fuck, y-yeah. Cum for me ba-by. Let me hear you fall apart.â Dean manages to grit out, his own pleasure nearing itâs peak. Your walls clamp down viciously around your fingers as your climax crashes through you like a tidal wave. A strangled cry tears from your throat, your back arching as ecstasy whites out your mind. Release gushes out, coating your hand and dripping down onto the sheets below.
At the same instant, Dean lets out a guttural groan, quickly smothered by what sounds like his hand pressed tightly against his face. His cock pulses and throbs in his grip as thick ropes of cum fall from the tip, painting his lower stomach with his release.
After a few moments of silence, Deanâs voice cuts through it, sighing before he begins. âI love you so much, sweetheart.â His words bring a blissful smile to your face, heart fluttering in your chest like a teenager in love.
âI love you too, Dean. More than anything,â you reply softly.
âIâll be home tomorrow, okay? Canât wait to hold you in my arms again. I'll make this up to you when I see you."
warnings: nsfw!! phone/voice kink, orgasm denial, lots of dirty talk, phone sex, hints of sexting, and praise.
synopsis: dean is away in another state, on a hunt with sam. it's only been roughly a day since he left, but you need him right now! giving into your needs, you send him a risquĂŠ picture. little did you know, that would change your night forever. (dean is dating reader btw)
The night stretches long and restless around you. Youâve been flipping through your phone for the past hour and a half, lost in old messages. Flipping through them, you find foggy videos of better nights than this one. Nights where Dean had your face slammed down in your sheets, voice low behind the camera, hips driving into you while his hands roamed around your body like he couldnât live without touching you.
You continue searching, before hovering your finger on one. The cover of the video was you, on your knees, lips parted with Deanâs cum all over your face. Another video; shaky, and dark, but the faint image of Dean under you was clear, as the sound of his tongue lapping up your wet cunt echoed through your quiet room.
Although usually filling to watch at night; tonight, they arenât enough. They donât scratch the itch, not this time. Not with Dean gone three states away, chasing some ghoul in a half-dead town, sleeping in shitty motels and eating gas station food. You already tried playing with yourself, making yourself orgasm maybe twice, but you needed more. You needed Dean.
Whining out, you kick off the blanket. Laying back on the bed, your fingers dance along the lace of your panties, teasing the damp fabric as your squirm with need. They were Deanâs favorite ones, a dark navy pair. The camera captures you splayed out, your nipples on full display with Deanâs worn flannel falling off your shoulders. With a breathy sigh, you slip your fingers beneath the lace. Your arousal could be seen with the camera, shining underneath the lace and on your inner thighs. The pale moonlight filtering through the windows made it barely visible, but enough for him to realize how needy you were.
A coy smile plays at the corners of your mouth as you snap the photo. Quickly flipping over on your stomach, you open the messages app with haste. Clicking on Dean's profile and pulling up the photo, you click send. No comments along with it, just an image, an invitation.
You donât even have time to second guess it before a read receipt appears.
Then, three dots show up.
Then they stop.
Before showing up again.
Dean - Are you fuckinâ serious right now?
You bite your lip, before heâs typing again.
Dean - Iâm gone for one damn day and youâre already like this?
Jesus Christ, sweetheart
And youâre touching yourself in my shirt?
You donât wait this time, you respond back with shaky hands.
You - Iâm sorryyyy
I miss you so much
I didnât mean to be bad, I just need you right now
Dean - Fuck
You are bad
Look at you, so needy you couldnât wait two fucking days
Your thighs clench.
You - Iâm so wet itâs starting to hurt
I need you so bad, baby
Please donât be mad
There was a long pause. Your stomach knots. Heâs gonna scold you. Punish you when he gets home. But-
Dean - Mad?
Sweetheart, Iâm sitting in the dark trying not to jerk off with Sammy passed out four feet away from me.
Iâm this close to losing it, and itâs all because my girl couldnât keep her hands off that pretty pussy when Iâm gone.
Thereâs a longer pause now. Stillness. The kind of quiet that echoes.
Your fingers are still resting against your soaked panties, legs starting to tremble slightly from the tension youâve been holding back. You stare at the screen, heart hammering. You donât breathe.
Your phone lights up, Deanâs calling you.
You swipe to answer before the first ring finishes. Thereâs silence at first-just the sound of your own shaky breathing and the low hum of something on Deanâs end. Then-
â..You got any idea what youâve done to me?â His voice is quiet but tense. Itâs like itâs straining through clenched teeth. âIâm lyinâ here in the dark, tryinâ to keep my fuckinâ noise down while Sammyâs over there snoring.. and my cock is so hard it hurts.â
A pause, before a low, strained laugh meets your ear. âAnd all I can see, is that picture. My girl, wearinâ my shirt, with her legs spread.â You donât dare make a sound. âI should be mad,â he mutters. You hear a quiet rustle- sheets? Maybe his zipper? âBut you look so goddamn pathetic in that photo, sweetheart. So needy. Like youâd do anything just to hear my voice? Is that right?â
Dean groans- quiet, cut off, like he bit it back behind his fist. He straightens out, before his voice drops an octave. âTell me, sweetheart. You want to touch yourself?â
You inhale sharply, too loudly. And he hears it. But, he lets the silence stretch. Itâs cruel, intentional.
âPut the phone on the pillow, lay back, and keep your mouth shut unless I ask you a question. You want me? My help? Youâre gonna earn it.â
You listen, quickly putting your phone on speaker and down on the pillow. You lean back, staring up at the ceiling, hardly daring to breathe.
âGood girl,â Deanâs voice rumbles from the speaker, after hearing you move around. You feel his words reverberate through you.
âNow, I want you to slip your hand inside those pretty panties. Nice and slow.â His command sends a shiver down your spine. Without hesitation, you allow your fingers to creep beneath the lace once again. A soft gasp escapes your lips at the contact.
âThatâs it, sweetheart. Feel how wet you are for me?â You nod, before realizing he canât see you. âYes,â you whisper, voice barely audible.
You hear his breathing quicken on the other side of the line, âKeep going, I want you to tease yourself. Play around your clit, donât you dare touch it directly yet.â
You obey, again, tracing teasing patterns around the sensitive bundle of nerves. Slowly, a knot coils in your core, your hips starting to buck upwards into your touch. âFuck, I can hear you,â Dean groans softly. âI can hear your fingers sliding around your pussy.. youâre dripping, arenât you?â
âYes,â you manage to choke out, cheeks flushing with embarrassment and desire.
âI bet if I was there, I could slide my cock right into your pussy. No warning, no prep. Just bury myself fucking balls deep.â Your breath hitches as you hear the subtle rhythmic sound of flesh meeting flesh from his side. The knowledge that Dean is stroking himself to the image of you touching yourself sends a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you.
His words paint a vivid picture in your mind. Your pussy clenches around nothing, aching to be filled. âPlease,â you whimper.
âGo on sweetheart, rub your pretty pussy. Nice and hard for me, show me how much you need me.â He pants quietly, the sound of his hand moving faster on his cock now more audible.
Spurred on by his encouragement, you obey eagerly, your fingers finding your aching clit and circling it firmly. A load moan escapes your lips at the needed stimulation, your back arching.
âMmm, yeah just like that. Fuck, I wish I was there to see you. To watch you play with your needy fucking pussy,â he groans, his breathing growing heavier and more erratic. The obscene sound of his hand pumping his shaft fills your ear, as if he was holding the phone right next to his dick.
Your other hand comes up to squeeze and knead your breast, pinching the peak of your nipple. You imagine him watching you, jerking off to the sight of you touching yourself so shamelessly.
âAhhh fuckkk, Iâmm gonna cum, Dean-ie!â you whimper desperately, feeling your climax building.
âNo,â Dean denies firmly, his voice tight with restraint. âNot yet, baby. You donât get to cum until I say so.â
You whine in protest, your hips bucking up into your hand as you try to chase your release. âPlease, I need.. I need it,â you beg, voice high and needy.
âPatience, sweetheart. Youâll cum when I fucking tell you to,â he growls his own pleasure evident in the way heâs panting into the phone. âFuck yourself on your fingers. Imagine itâs mine. Feel how deep Iâd go, curling them just to hit that spot you like,â His voice echoes through your ears as he guides you. You let out a choked moan, plunging two fingers knuckle-deep into your aching cunt. Your velvety walls clench greedily around the intrusion, drawing your digits in deeper. You imagine itâs Deanâs hand, his thick fingers claiming your pussy.
âThatâs my good girl, taking me so well,â he praises, his own breathing growing even more harsher as he listens to your sounds. âDonât forget about your clit. Rub her just like I would. Show me how much you need my touch, baby.â Obediently, you bring your other hand down, rubbing your throbbing clit in tight, desperate circles. Each flick of your fingertip sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, pushing you closer to the brink of ecstasy. You picture Dean above you, his intense gaze fixed between your spread thighs, exactly how he does when he's there with you.
Dean groans, the sound of his hand growing more desperate. Your fingers plunge in and out of your dripping sex, rubbing your clit wildly. Youâre so close, teetering on the very edge of climax. âCan I please cum, now?â You whimper, trying your best to hold back as you await his answer.
âF-fuck, y-yeah. Cum for me ba-by. Let me hear you fall apart.â Dean manages to grit out, his own pleasure nearing itâs peak. Your walls clamp down viciously around your fingers as your climax crashes through you like a tidal wave. A strangled cry tears from your throat, your back arching as ecstasy whites out your mind. Release gushes out, coating your hand and dripping down onto the sheets below.
At the same instant, Dean lets out a guttural groan, quickly smothered by what sounds like his hand pressed tightly against his face. His cock pulses and throbs in his grip as thick ropes of cum fall from the tip, painting his lower stomach with his release.
After a few moments of silence, Deanâs voice cuts through it, sighing before he begins. âI love you so much, sweetheart.â His words bring a blissful smile to your face, heart fluttering in your chest like a teenager in love.
âI love you too, Dean. More than anything,â you reply softly.
âIâll be home tomorrow, okay? Canât wait to hold you in my arms again. I'll make this up to you when I see you."
Summary "Mr. Winchester" walks in on his sons going to town on you.
CWs threesome, foursome, voyeurism, p in v, fingering, oral (m receiving)
This thing between Sam, Dean and you has been going on for weeks, and sometimes Sam still wants to pinch himself.
A part of him is screaming that this is too good to be true. That sooner or later something is gonna happen that will make this all go up in flames. That his relationship not just to you but also to his brother will be destroyed beyond repair. Good things don't just happen to Sam Winchester. He's always known that.
Other things Sam knows to be absolutely true: he came the first time he watched you come. In fact, he can pretty much get off just from watching you squirm, hearing you pant and moan. He's always liked that - every girlfriend he's ever had was pretty happy about that part, the part where Sam just loves making them come over and over in any way.Â
But he's never been down as bad as with you. Maybe because you're so confident in taking pleasure, chasing it. It's like an all-you-can-eat buffet for him when he's been starving.Â
Most days since you moved in, Sam wakes with your hand already in his PJ bottoms, pumping his cock. It's how he goes to sleep at night too - with your sounds and tastes and sensations still on his tongue. He holds you close as you both drift off. He keeps waiting for you to get over him or get bored or whatever. But it doesn't happen.
Then that night happened. When you came back from using the bathroom the night you first met Dean and John, after having the most awkward family dinner in human history, something had gotten into you. You pretty much ravished Sam, were on him immediately, so wet as to be dripping.
Sam started suggesting that you wanted his father and brother to hear you and him fuck, and saw the effect it had on you. When he said that maybe you wanted them to have a go at you too, you came, harder and louder than ever before.
Sometimes Sam wonders if he should feel weird about the whole thing. If he should feel threatened by that. But he simply doesn't. He knows you're his. Another thing he knows for sure: you love him, and he loves you.
There wasnât one specific moment where the two of you decided that you wanted to get caught. It was a crescendo of both of you leaning more and more into that fantasy. Dean and John are always out a lot, so Sam and you often have the house to yourself. So most of the time there wasnât a real risk.Â
Sam would kneel on the couch between your legs and eat you out for hours, until the fabric under you is drenched. More than once youâve sunken to your knees somewhere where anyone could walk in at any point, taken him into your mouth while looking up at him with half closed eyes. It never happened. Until it did.
Maybe Sam always knew that Dean would end up being involved at some point. Like, really involved. He assumed heâd be into it, but he didnât know how much he was until you were riding Dean, Samâs cock muffling your sounds. It wasnât until he saw how hard you came with both of them inside you that Sam realized this was what had always been the end goal. He remembers the giddy feeling in his chest now, at seeing all that pleasure in you, how happy you were afterwards.
So, yes, the weeks since have been like some sort of amazing fever dream that just wonât end. Dean was shy in the beginning, about the mechanics of it all, and it warms Samâs heart to see how much more confident he seems to feel. You and he tease each other, and he gets to hold you, kiss you before and after, but when youâre not in the moment, the two of you act just like good friends. And Dean doesn't seem to mind. Sam isnât super shocked that Dean is happy with not having the responsibilities of actually being in the relationship. Itâs kind of who he is.
Itâs a lazy Saturday afternoon when the next thing happens. The thing that Sam knows youâve been thinking about, but neither of you has really addressed. The thing heâs not sure how to feel about until it happens.
Because Sam and Dean are close, closer maybe than any other two people in the world. It just sort of makes sense for Dean to be there. Itâs not like this is the first time theyâve intimately shared space. Never the same woman, not even Rachel, Samâs prom date, because she didnât even let him get to third base, but Sam has spent more than one night being kept up by Dean getting laid in his immediate vicinity. Heâs been there for many of his brotherâs sexual misadventures.
So when he enters you, sliding in perfectly smoothly because of how wet his brother has made you, that just makes sense. Or when you take him in deeper because Dean is fucking you faster, because youâre being rocked back and forth between the two, making sinful sounds, moaning their names around Samâs dick - nothing feels wrong about that. It all feels perfectly right.
On this particular afternoon, youâre on your back. The three of you are in Deanâs room today and youâre spread open, two of Samâs fingers pressed into you, his knuckles glistening with your wetness and Deanâs on your other side, as youâre just sticking out your tongue, running it over the underside of his balls. Itâs a scenario that feels as natural as breathing at this point.
Samâs pretty sure that what happens happens only because all of you are in Deanâs room. His father wouldnât barge into Samâs room the way he does Deanâs. Not because John doesnât think he has the right to, but because Sam gives him more grief over it, and sometimes he just doesnât want to deal with that. Itâs also because itâs now your room as well, and John at least has the decency to respect that.
Thatâs the other thing - Sam isnât dumb. Heâs seen the way his father looks at you. The long, lingering stares with his beer bottle halfway raised to his mouth. The way his face goes all soft when he watches you make dinner or make Sam and Dean laugh or when you call him âMr. Winchesterâ again. Has seen the way he flexes his fist when Sam kisses you in front of him.
And when you talked about being walked in on, or about the other Winchester men getting a turn at ruining you, you talked about Dean and John. Sam hasnât forgotten that. Heâs simply tabled the thought.
They hear John exactly three seconds before he opens the door. He calls something out to Dean about his car keys, his truck not starting and Deanâs fingers freeze where theyâre rolling one of your nipples between them and Samâs fingers freeze too while heâs thrusting them into you. Only you donât stop. It could just be that youâre not as conditioned to freeze at the sound of Johnâs voice, but Sam knows you better than that at this point.
The door flies open, and your lips are still on Deanâs balls. At least for consistency, John freezes too. His mouth is opened to say something else when he stops dead just inside the room, eyes glued to the scene in front of him.
At last, you move your lips off Dean, but itâs only to push yourself up on your elbows, tits and hard nipples on perfect display. Sam watches you raise your eyebrows at John and it thrills him to no end, makes him stare at you in awe. Heâs pretty sure thereâs nothing in the world youâre afraid of. He thinks he loves you more in that moment than he ever has, despite the fact that his heart is beating so hard he can hear it in his ears.
âWhat the fuckâŚâ John mumbles, but then his eyes go to your chest and he licks his lips.Â
âHey, Mr. Winchester,â you say then, your tone perfectly striking a balance between porn starlet and thatâs what you get for not knocking. Sam wants to grab your face and kiss it.Â
Sam sees the confusion on his fatherâs face and he can honestly say thatâs probably the first time anyoneâs ever seen John Winchester lost for words. Sam blinks in surprise when he feels you nudge him with your knee and youâre looking at him when he turns.
âKeep going, baby,â you say, the words accompanied by a cheeky little lip bite. âI was close.â
Sam feels the corners of his mouth twitch. Could he? Could he just keep going? He looks down at where his fingers are just outside of your pussy, then looks back at your face. Your pupils are so big as to almost hide all the color of your irises. Youâre into this. Youâre into the thought of John being there.
Sam pushes his fingers into you again and you drop your head back, moan. Youâre warm and tight and wet and Sam pulls his fingers out, stroking them across your front wall when he does. You gasp a little, eyes falling shut. So Sam keeps going. Because what the hell else is he gonna do?
Samâs not looking at Dean or John, is concentrating only on you, but he can hear their heavy breathing, the only other sounds in the room except for your moans and the wet sounds of him finger-fucking you. He keeps going, watches you climb the hill of pleasure, all the little signs that tell him youâre getting closer. Itâs the most sensual display.Â
You start moaning loudly, rolling your hips, drop a little lower, the back of your head now resting against Deanâs chest. He still seems frozen but Sam canât even think about that as he feels you clench down on him, so desperate to be filled more, making his cock twitch and fill, reminding him heâs up for the task. But he wants you to come first, because he loves how strung out you look when he fucks you right after youâve come.
Which is what you do - legs pulled up, chest heaving, high-pitched whimpers that let Sam know itâs an intense one leaving you. You press yourself down against his hand, even though thereâs nothing more he can give you, heâs up to his knuckles and then you slump back, still grinding yourself against him, catching your breath.
He pulls his fingers from you, intent on simply wiping them on the sheet below, but you donât let him go far. You grab his wrist, bring his hand up to your face and the next second youâre wrapping your lips around him, sucking your juices off of him. Sam groans low in his throat, but just as Dean raises his hands, suddenly freed from his stupor, cups your breasts, thereâs another sound.
Itâs another groan, and it comes from John. You must notice too because you blink your eyes open, lids low, and turn your head to look at him again.
Sam sees your eyes roam John's body and then stop at what is clearly a growing bulge in his jeans. A small smile twitches on your lips and then you turn back to Sam, look into his eyes.
He could say no. He could cut this all off here. Youâd definitely be disappointed, but heâs pretty sure you wouldnât hold it against him - itâs a lot to ask, after all. Sam knows that, you know it, Dean knows it. The question is if John knows it too. Only one way to find out, Sam thinks. Because he wants to give you this. Wants to see you turned inside out from everything he's given you.Â
So he nods slowly. Your eyes widen, and Sam likes that, likes that you maybe sort of expected him to stop there, let that be it. That he can still surprise you like that. Then the biggest smile spreads on your face as you give a small nod back.
You push yourself up, feet landing on the ground and then you stand. Youâre naked and Sam sees Johnâs eyes roam over you, taking in everything from your soft skin to your glistening thighs to your flushed chest. His throat contracts as he swallows.
You step close to him, and then land your hand on his chest. It travels up, slowly, all the way to his face. Johnâs not exactly clean-shaven but heâs been more groomed for a while now. Sam wonders if heâs trying to look younger.
âYou should really grow this out,â you say in a low, sultry voice, fingertips scratching over Johnâs stubble. âI think it would look really sexy.â John takes a sharp breath through his nose.
âIâve been trying to get your boys to let theirs grow too,â you say, fingers moving to Johnâs neck while he looks down at you like heâs about ready to tear you apart, especially when you lean in a little for what you say next. âI like the way it feels when theyâre⌠down there.â
John clenches his jaw, and Sam has to give it to his father. He would have already grabbed you and pushed himself inside of you. Your hand wanders lower again, over the row of buttons of Johnâs shirt and then your fingers are catching on the buckle of his belt.
âI wonder if you look the same as them,â you just say, and then Johnâs hand shoots up, wrapping around your wrist.
âIs this some kind of game?â he presses out through gritted teeth. Paranoid idiot, Sam thinks. He canât ever believe it when something good happens. He swallows when he realizes the similarity to himself.
âNo games,â you say, your second hand going up and cupping Johnâs crotch, at which he takes another sharp breath. âI promise.â
John waits one more second, then lets go of your wrist. Itâs all the encouragement you need. You open his belt and then his jeans, practiced and fast, and then you go down to your knees. You lick your lips as you take John out of his pants. You stick your tongue out then, give it a cursory lick which makes Johnâs breathing shudder.
You donât waste any time. You wrap your lips around the head of Johnâs cock, begin slowly bobbing back and forth. Sam knows the feeling exactly - how wet your mouth is, how soft your lips. That moan that leaves you right then, low in your throat, he knows what the vibrations of it feel like traveling through him. He feels his own cock twitch, throws a careful look at Dean. Heâs been deadly quiet, but he is watching with the same rapt attention. Fuck it, Sam thinks, all or nothing. His hand wanders down his body and he gives himself a few tugs. No shame or horror comes after, so he keeps going, especially when your mouth makes a pornographic wet sound.Â
Johnâs eyes have fallen shut, and just then his hand goes to the back of your head, fingers twisting into your hair. Youâre using one hand to stroke him at the same time, pulling all that pleasure from him, and you donât stop the movement when you move your mouth off him, look up. John blinks his eyes open, looks down at you.
âYou taste so nice, Mr. Winchester,â you say, voice a little raw, and it makes Sam feel the good kind of dizzy. Maybe he should have you call him that, too, he thinks, before he almost laughs at himself. Maybe something for another time.Â
You run your tongue along John, keep stroking him, before looking up again.
âWonder if you would feel as nice inside me?â you ask, voice almost innocent, like youâre talking about the weather. It makes the whole thing that much more illicit.
âFuck,â John curses, low and breathless. He reaches down, grabs your shoulder and for a second Sam wonders if he should intervene, but then he sees John is spinning you around.
âOn all fours, sweetheart,â he pants and you immediately comply. âLet me see your sweet ass.âÂ
Youâre grinning and biting your lip and Sam almost shakes his head in wonder. At how youâve, once again, tided over the raging egos of all three men in this house. How you play them all like a fiddle and they donât even notice.
John gets down on his knees behind you, and suddenly he seems frantic, hurried almost. One hand is on your ass, squeezing it, while heâs stroking himself with the other. Then John leans in closer and he must press himself into you, because just then your eyes fall shut and your mouth open.
âOh fuck,â you moan as John makes a hissing sound. Sam canât blame him. Itâs how he felt when he entered you for the first time ever. He saw the look on Deanâs face, too. He couldnât explain it if somebody paid him good money to, but thereâs a before and after, and they are all in the after now.
John groans when heâs all the way seated inside of you, pushes against you as if testing and a joyful gasp leaves you. Sam tightens his grip where heâs stroking himself slowly. Heâs pretty sure he can see out of the corner of his eye that Dean is doing the same.Â
Johnâs hand snakes up your back, reveling in the feeling of your skin, until he finds your shoulder. Once heâs got a good hold on you, he pulls out a little before slamming himself back into you.
The sound you make is one of the best ones Sam has ever heard. It kind of sounds like youâve hurt your tailbone, but itâs ecstatic. John pulls out again, then pushes himself into you again and then heâs found a rhythm.
Itâs deep and hard and might worry Sam if he didnât know thatâs exactly what you like. Thereâs a loud slapping noise of skin meeting skin every time John thrusts into you and your whimpering isnât dying down. You have your eyes closed and eyebrows drawn up, more uncontrolled sounds leaving you.
âSo thick,â you pant out, apparently not able to form a full sentence. John pulls you back, making himself crash into you even harder, breathing hard, face in a snarl.
âThink Iâm the only one in this house who doesnât get a taste?â he grunts, also only half making sense. âThink you could keep this sweet, little pussy from me?â
You might have answered but exactly in that moment, your body begins shaking, trembling, as John fucks you into an intense orgasm. Youâre gasping and whining, the climax long. Itâs all Sam can take.Â
He stands, walks over to you and gets on his knees in front of you. Heâs pretty sure John throws him an angry look, but he doesnât care. You must notice the movement because you open your eyes, just barely able to blink them open and Samâs just barely assumed the position when one of the hands holding you up immediately goes to his cock, begins stroking him.
Deanâs the last to join, and if Sam had any part of his brain left that was able to think, he wouldnât be surprised at that. Following Samâs lead but not wanting to get into the way of John are his two major motivators. He kneels next to Sam and you lower your head, take his cock into your mouth where heâs offering it to you.
Itâs uncoordinated and messy, but seeing you like this, so utterly ravished and unleashed - Samâs never felt anything like it. Heâs pretty sure this is what itâs like for people who have crazy religious experiences. Heâs seeing the light or whatever. All words are lost on him.
John groans loudly as his head goes up, eyes squeezed shut, movement of his hips stuttering and it takes Sam a moment to understand he just came inside you. His head drops forward again, eyes still closed.
Sam could come in your hand or move your chin so he can come in your mouth. Itâs not where he wants it, though.Â
A surprised yelp leaves you when he wraps an arm around you, pulls you towards him, off Johnâs and Deanâs cocks.
âSamââ his father growls, warning, but Sam doesnât care. Johnâs not the one who gets to call the shots here - you and Sam are, and heâs pretty sure heâs gonna die if he isnât inside of you within the next seconds.
He wants to get you to the bed, make you more comfortable, but itâs simply not an option right then. So he maneuvers you on your back, slots between your legs immediately. Your hands shoots between your bodies at the same time Samâs does, but youâre quicker despite your fucked-out state. You find him, hard and leaking, lead him to your entrance. All Sam has to do is push forwards his hips.
He does, and then heâs in heaven. You cry out, and Sam leans down on his elbows, kisses you hard. At the same time he starts snapping his hips, pistoning against you. You moan loudly, wrap your arms around him, fingernails digging into his shoulders.
âOh yes, baby,â you whine, your voice loud and clear in his head with how close your mouth is to his ear. Sam can feel his orgasm coming, can feel it creeping up his spine and as much as he wants nothing more than to fill you up with his come, heâs taken you high now and heâs not about to drop you.
So he changes his angle just a little, and it makes your head fall back, your neck stretch and only a second later, he feels the contractions, the squeezing, the almost painful bliss of feeling you come.Â
You cry out, unintelligible words leaving you and Sam can hear Dean groan behind him, curse as he probably shoots into his hand, as if itâs him that can feel you squeezing him, not his brother.Â
Thatâs the last thing Sam thinks. Because a second later, he thinks he nearly goes blind from how hard he comes. He shoots into you, spurts and spurts of it as his brain feels like itâs being rebooted.
He slumps forward, his body covering yours, as he pants like he just sprinted from one end of town to the other. Youâre running your hands over his back, gently, and itâs all he feels, all he ever wants to feel.Â
It feels like an eternity until he finally pushes himself up again. Heâs softening and when he moves far enough to slip out of you, he looks down to between your legs. His and Johnâs come is leaking out of you and you cup your pussy, wincing but only for a second.
âI am gonna be so sore tomorrow,â you say, and then a goofy little giggle leaves you. Samâs surprised when he sees Deanâs hand appear in his line of sight, holding a handful of tissues. Sam takes them, takes some to run along himself while he passes you the rest.
âWorth it though, huh?â Dean asks, tone cheeky and you grin up at him.
âDefinitely worth it,â you reply and Sam canât help the huff that escapes him.
All of you turn when you hear John move. Heâs just closing his belt, not looking at any of you. His face is grave and set.
âThis shouldnât have happened,â he says, voice low and raw. Donât do this, Sam thinks, feeling a twinge in his chest. Donât ruin this. Not this too.
âThis was a misunderstanding,â John says, still not looking at any of you. âItâs⌠this is justâŚâ
What? Sam thinks. Wrong? Perverted? Not normal? Maybe itâs not. But he doesnât care. He opens his mouth but, once again, youâre quicker.
âI was actually hoping we could do this again, Mr. Winchester,â you say, and everyone turns to you. âIt would be a real shame if this was a one-off.âÂ
John looks at you, his lips slightly moving. Samâs not sure what it is, but thereâs something on his fatherâs face heâs never seen before. To his surprise, itâs Dean who drags all of you out of the stalemate. He snorts, then chuckles and Sam turns to him.
âJustâŚâ Dean says, shaking his head. âMr. Winchester? I think weâre a little past the formalities at this point.â You chuckle too.Â
Sam looks back at his father. For a second, he thinks heâs gonna double down. But then John sighs, runs a hand over his face.
âI need a drink,â he says. You shrug, smiling at him.
âI need a shower,â you say, holding Johnâs gaze. âAnd then a drink.â John looks back at you, and thereâs that expression again. Soft, intimate. Open.
You break the eye contact and look up at Sam. His heart warms at it as you reach out your hand and he takes it, helps you stand. For a second, youâre unsteady on your legs so Sam slings his arms around you, holds you and you hug him back. He closes his eyes, hears John move, heavy boots leaving the room and then Dean is moving somewhere around you and him, mumbling something about grabbing a shower before you use up all the hot water.Â
Sam barely hears it. His face is pressed into your hair, because itâs the only way he can hide the grin building on his face.Â
Summary Dean doesn't handle his brother's girlfriend moving in well.
CWs sub!Dean, voyeurism, oral (f receiving), masturbation, p in v, threesome
Things have been bad. For weeks.
Dean's not doing well, having you around all the time now since you moved in with the Winchesters. It bothers him how you come out of the shower only wearing that silky blue bathrobe that's almost see-through when the light hits just right. Or when you do your stretching exercises in the yoga pants with the cut-outs. Or when you scold him for leaving his clothes lying around the entire house. That last one, especially, he can't get over. He started leaving his things out on purpose. So you'd do it more often.Â
He's been having a tough time focusing on anything, really, and sometimes he worries he's going to suffer from a circulatory collapse, with all of his blood rushing downstairs when he's too close to you for too long. It really has been hard.
Sure, he takes care of the raging boners you give him on a daily basis just from, well, being you. But it's getting more and more difficult to live off those scraps when you're so, so close. All the time.
It's the worst at night. When everything's quiet, and he hears you and Sam going at it like animals. During the day, he can just find something else to do. Get out of the house. But when he's lying in bed, eyes firmly pressed shut, and he hears that high-pitched moan that's seared into his brain by now, it drives him crazy. Once, on a Thursday night, he almost came without even touching himself, just from listening to the sounds you were making. You had a tiny little bite mark below your jaw the next morning, one that he only saw because he had to pick up the fork he dropped at breakfast when you bumped into him. He wondered what other marks your long-sleeved shirt was covering.
Somehow, having you living with the Winchesters is making things so much better and so much worse at the same time. The place has changed since then. It's livelier, lighter. You got a lamp shade for the living room, threw out all of the dusty rugs. Bought new decorative cushions for the sofa, which are hella cozy to nap on, even though Dean would never admit that to your face. And you got new sheets for the whole lot of them, saying something about wanting to set the old ones on fire. They're cozy as well, and they kinda smell like you. Somehow, most of the laundry does since you moved in.Â
When you all have dinner together, which seems to be happening more often than in the previous three years combined, the atmosphere is light. You laugh at Dean's jokes, even though you always keep close to Sammy. You ask him how his day went. You even get John to chat sometimes. About himself. About his youth. About Mary. That's the good part.
The bad part is that Dean can't seem to get you off his mind. That very first time he met you he had thought it was just the fascination of something new. His little brother's older college girlfriend. But it wasn't. The more he got to know you, the more infatuated he had become. And instead of imagining you at the sorority charity car wash he had started daydreaming of you doing mundane things. Making coffee in the morning. Reading a book. Stroking his hair. It's innocent though, he tells himself. He wouldn't want to snatch you away from his brother. Sam seems so happy since he met you.
When you're not around, because you have classes, or are out and about with your friends, the mood in the entire house changes. Everyone seems on edge, aching for you to come back, even John. For you to cool down the flames that easily burn too hot when left unattended.
Dean stopped looking at the weather girl on page 13 a while ago to take care of his needs. He doesn't need her anymore. The picture of you in his head is all he wants, and it's so much better than anything a nudie mag could provide.Â
Today, Dean sneaks off to the bathroom early in the morning, to go pee. He's gotta go whenever he gets the chance when he wakes up, because either his morning wood or the boner he's going to get when you and Sam start fucking might make it impossible at any given time. He quietly moves through the hall to go relieve himself, but then he notices that someone must've forgotten to turn off the light in the dining room. He moves over to the light switch, reaches out, and then he sees you.Â
Lying on your back, sprawled across the dinner table. Illuminated only by the low-hanging lamp. Naked. Well, not technically naked, because that damn silky bathrobe is still on your arms, under your back. But it's open, and the sight of your tits, chest heaving, nearly makes him lose his mind. He barely notices Sam's head bobbing back and forth between your legs, because the way you're writhing on that table is just everything he's been dreaming of.
Dean reminds himself not to hold his breath. It's a good thing he's so used to the adrenaline pumping through his veins from hunting. It makes him go into hyper-focus mode. His eyes roam over your skin. Soft, glowing. There's a birthmark on the side of your right butt cheek, one that he'd never have seen if it weren't for⌠well, this. Now he knows. And he'll never forget.Â
His gaze wanders up, over your stomach to your bellybutton and higher even. Your entire torso is moving up and down with how heavy you're breathing, and he just wants to run his tongue over you. All the way up to the valley of your breasts, he wants to know what it tastes like, what you taste like. Take a bite. Leave his mark on you. Right there, on the soft flesh beneath your collarbone.Â
His eyes trace the natural lines of your body, up your neck that is so beautifully stretched with how your head is tilted back. So inviting. He wants to kiss you there, make you giggle. He's seen Sam do that to you twice already. He wants that for himself. Wants to explore you with his mouth, learn every curve and dip.
Your lips look so beautiful, plush, parted, he just wants to run his thumb over them, let you taste him, too. And just above those beautiful, rosy cheeks are your eyes. Big. Colorful. Vivid. And, he can't believe he's only noticing it now, they're looking right at him.
His first instinct is to hide. But he instantly realizes there's no use, you're looking straight at him. So he just freezes and stands there, quietly staring at your nakedness. You tilt your head a little more to him, your gaze soft. For a second he's scared you'll jump up, cover yourself and start yelling at him. But you don't. You smile. And you bite your lower lip. All while firmly holding his gaze.
Then your eyes flutter shut and a soft little moan leaves you, Sam must've done something you very much appreciate down there, and Dean thinks about just using the moment to vanish. Maybe you're still a little drowsy, maybe you'll think you just imagined him standing there, watching you while his brother is having breakfast early. But he just can't. His legs won't budge, he's hypnotized by the way your tits are moving up and down.Â
You must be grinding yourself against Sam's face, because there's a tiny swaying motion to your body that's only explicable if you're doing something. He looks back at your face when your eyes open again. That's it, the moment for his escape has passed. And he's still standing there, mouth watering, pitching a tent.
He swallows. His eyes are glued to your lips, and then you speak. Not making any sound, but Dean has no trouble at all reading what you're saying off your lips.
Like what you see?
He blinks. His breathing is shallow, mouth dry. He must be dreaming. Wouldn't be the first time he dreamt something like this. He pinches himself in the arm, but he doesn't wake up. You're still lying there, watching him, and you look like you're waiting for him to answer. So he does. Nods.
Your smile widens. You like it. You fucking like being watched by him, in this vulnerable state, so close to being your most primal self. It makes Dean shiver. And then you speak again.
Touch yourself.
Dean's breath hitches. He's sure that's what you're mouthing. One hundred percent. He still hesitates.
For me. Please.
The way your lips move, silently, is so sensual, so pure and just the right amount of dirty at the same time. He's never seen anything like it. It compels him. And he knows he has to obey. He wants to. You're in control.
His hand finds its way into his boxers. His fingers close around his length, and he starts stroking himself immediately. He sees you inhale deeply, licking your lips as he follows your command. He can feel the muscles in his face twitching, his mouth drops open as he quickly feels release approaching. He'd be embarrassed by how quickly he's getting there if the whole situation wasn't so absurd.
You throw your arms up over your head, arching your back violently, writhing with pleasure. Another moan drops from your lips, betraying the intense pleasure you must be feeling. But you fight to keep your eyes open, focused on him, rubbing one out to the sight you're providing him with.
Dean comes when you do. He just shoots his load into his boxers, panting, but aware enough not to make a sound. It's taking everything out of him not to moan, but he knows he just can't. Even though this scene playing out right in front of his eyes is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.Â
You, blissfully sighing, breathing heavily, and that gorgeous little smile on your lips. It's better than it ever was in his imagination, and you're prettier like this than you've ever been. Cheeks flushed, eyes now finally fluttering shut.
Finally, Dean manages to snap out of his stupor. Looks down at the mess he made, wipes his hand off on his already stained boxers. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Sam's head moving up just in time to turn around and finally move out of sight. He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. To understand what just happened. And then he quickly and silently moves away from the dining room. He really should go pee now.
Dean skips breakfast. He takes the Impala's keys from the little bowl you make everyone keep their keys in and drives it a couple of streets down to an old lot next to a gas station. He gets out, walks a couple of steps, going in a circle. Stares at a cloud. Then he rolls up his sleeves, opens up the Impala's hood and gets to work. He's not entirely sure what he's looking for, but there's gotta be something he can fix. Right?
He spends at least an hour on the car, maybe two. It's a good distraction from the very vivid images of you, coming, that are playing on repeat in his head. But his mind keeps drifting back to the sounds you made, to your smile, to the way you ensorceled him to pleasure himself while you were staring at each other. You really cast your spell on him.Â
He's going to have to talk to you. But how would that even work? Just talk to you, now that he's seen you like this. Now that the two of you have shared that. Behind Sammy's back.
He finally slams the hood shut, wipes sweat off his forehead and grease off his fingers. He sits in the car for a couple of minutes, hand on the ignition, but lacking the courage to actually start it. Then he shakes himself out off it and drives back home.
When he comes back, the house is quiet. There's nobody home. One of your coats is still hanging on the rack, but he knows you like to take the padded one when it's windy like today. Dean sighs in relief. Not that it changes anything, but he gets a little more time to gather his thoughts.
He throws his jacket onto the sofa, kicks off his boots. You're going to give him shit for that later. Or are you? Will things still be the same when you get back from wherever you are? Or has he broken this precious little thing you have going on? The thought alone makes him nauseous.
He shuffles down the hall, right to his room. Throws the door shut behind him and flings himself on the bed. He stares at the ceiling, not really thinking, but trying to. To come up with a way out of this mess that's not going to hurt Sam. He lets his gaze roam. To the framed picture of the three of you that you got him, from the day you took the boys ice skating. Dean had landed on his rear more times than he could count, but he had gotten to hold your hand as you tried to teach him how to stay on his feet and all of you got hot cocoa spiked with rum afterwards. It was a good day. He likes the picture, it gives his room a much more⌠composed vibe. Then his gaze wanders over the door and he finally sees the note stuck to the inside of his door.
He immediately recognizes your handwriting. He jumps up, crosses the room in two strides and rips it off.
It's written on one of those purple sticky notes that you keep on the fridge, the ones you use to write down the grocery list or to leave cute little messages for your boyfriend sometimes. But this one, this one's addressed to him.Â
Dean. Meet me back here at 11 pm. xx
His heart starts racing. He just keeps staring at the note, as if somehow, if he stared long enough, it would change its meaning. You want to meet him. In the middle of the night. In his room.
And you're sending him kisses. You've never done that before. Well, you've never written him a note before. Except for the grocery list. It feels intimate. He likes it. It also feels wrong.
Dean swallows. What does this mean? Do you just want to talk? And keep it hidden from Sam? Or are youâŚÂ suggesting something? Are you trying to get him to do more of whatever this was?Â
He racks his brain. Do you know? That he's been listening to the sweet, sultry sounds you make when Sam gets to work on you? That he's been fantasizing about you non-stop? It sure looked like it this morning, like you knew exactly what was going on.Â
He shakes his head. Continues staring at the note. xx. You want him. And he's not sure that's something he could deny you.
Dean's on edge for the rest of the day. He spends most of the time outside. Lounges around at the diner with the brunette waitress that always lets him peek at her bra when she pours him coffee. Gets himself a second slice of blueberry pie. But nothing seems to be able to distract him, no matter how hard he tries.
He knows he's gonna have to go back home and face the music sometime. He is going to have to talk to you about this, and sooner rather than later. But he just doesn't know what he would say, if he could get the words out. Is he even sure what you're going to say? Is this really you telling him that you want him? That you want to fuck him? Or is he starting to confuse porn with reality again?
Sure. He's been fantasizing about you. About being the one who gets you to make all of those sultry sounds he's been hearing without cease. It's been your face he's been superimposing on the women he has had sex with ever since he laid eyes on you. But that was just it. Those were fantasies. This? This is really you. You, his little brother's girlfriend. Someone who's strictly off-limits.Â
He walks along the road to the house in the dark, kicking a soda can all the way up to the doorstep. At the door, he fidgets with his keys, trying to postpone the inevitable for as long as he can. Then he takes a deep breath, unlocks the door and goes in.
He's going to tell you. That you're the hottest little thing that has crossed his path in a while, and that he wants you, like, really wants you. That he wants you to have him. But that it's just not something that can ever happen. It's something he could never do to Sam. Because he knows how much Sam cares for you, how much you've already changed the lives of all the Winchesters, and that's something Dean can't ruin. Even if it means he's gotta put his happiness behind Sammy's.
He looks at the clock as he kicks his boots off. 11:17. He stares at the ceiling, mumbles an ejaculatory prayer and goes to his room.
When his hand lands on the door handle, he hears it. It's a quiet little sigh, but his ears have been trained to it. He can't believe it. Are you really in there, maybe even in his bed, touching yourself?
He should have just turned around and gone out again. Left you there. But his body is quicker than his brain, and his hand presses down on the handle, and then he's standing in his room.
There you are. On his bed, shirt pushed up a little so your belly is exposed. But the hand pressed firmly into your crotch isn't your own. It's Sam's.Â
You giggle as you see him, push Sam's hand away and you both straighten up. Dean's sure that the look of confusion on his face must be more than evident.
He looks at you, then at Sam, then back at you. Opens his mouth, furrows his brows, closes it again and tilts his head.
It's Sam who speaks first. He chuckles and asks Dean to sit. Without looking away from you, he pushes all of the clothes piled on the stool next to the door to the floor and sits. Then he buries his hands in the pockets of the jacket he forgot to take off.
Dean's cautious. Watches you and Sam. He's not sure what to make of this entire situation, but it seems like both of you are in a good mood. On the same page even. At least it doesn't look like Sam's going to punch him for, well, jerking off in front of his girlfriend.Â
âI thought you weren't coming,â you say, a look on your face that one could almost describe as hopeful. âThought I might have scared you off.â
Dean huffs. He's careful about the words he chooses.
âScared ain't the right word, sweetheart.â You and Sam exchange a glance that he's not sure how to interpret. Then Sam gives you a tiny nod and you clear your throat before you speak again.
âSo, DeanâŚâÂ
He watches you like a hawk as you speak. All of his senses are on alert, he doesn't want to miss a single cue that might give away what you're thinking. The first one he notices is a small twitch of your upper lip.
âI know you've been thinking of me. I see the way you look at me. And after this morningâŚâ Dean's eyes dart to his brother. But Sam's face is calm, relaxed even. He's got his hand low on your ass. Right where he saw that little mark this morning.
âWell, Sam and I thought, maybe you'd like to try the real thing.â
Dean's mouth drops open. He blinks at you. Somehow, he feels incredibly joyous and immensely confused at the same time.Â
âYou mean, you want us to hook up?â
Dean feels he might be gesticulating a little too wildly, but he can't stop himself.
You bite your lip as you slowly nod. So he was right. About you wanting to fuck him. He's just not entirely sure how Sam figures into this.Â
âIâŚâ Dean's thoughts are racing, and everything around him feels like it's been dipped in honey. Sticky. Like every action requires a tremendous amount of energy. He knows this is one of these moments that decide everything.Â
He looks at his brother. Tries to read him. But Sam still looks completely unbothered. Does this really mean what he thinks it does? That he'll get to have you, he'll finally be able to feel you like he's been craving for all those weeks, and with Sam's blessing?
â...and you're cool with that?â He asks his brother, just to make sure.
Sam tilts his head, scratches the back of his neck.Â
âWell, it kinda was my idea.â
Dean's eyebrows go up in surprise. Another twist he did not see coming. It must be evident to Sam that Dean is completely and utterly lost for words, because his brother starts to explain.
âWe've been⌠trying new things. And turns out, we both liked the idea of you being in the mix. Just listening, catching us at first. So we thought, why not take it to the next level?â
Dean can't believe what he's hearing. Have you been thinking about him all this time? Have you been using him for your pleasure and he didn't even realize it?
And then it hits him.
âIs that why you're so damn loud all the time?!â
You just giggle in response. And it makes Dean's heart skip a beat. Of course it is. He knows you can be quiet as a mouse if you want to. He saw it this morning. Damn. You really want this.
Dean shifts as you suddenly get up and start making your way toward him. When you reach him you extend your hand, and when he takes it you pull him up to you. He can already feel the growing hardness in his pants, and now that you're pressing yourself up against him, he's sure you can feel it too.
You stand on your tiptoes, one hand entangled with his fingers, the other on his chest. And you smell so damn good. As you look up at him your nose touches his jaw, you trace a line up to his ear. You let your cheek brush over his, and when your lips are close to his ear he hears you whisper, âis that a yes?â
His lips crash into you like a force of nature. Hot like a blaze, powerful like a storm, sweeping like the ocean. He grabs you with both hands, runs his fingers into your hair as he pulls you close. He needs to feel more of you. Touch more of you. Taste more of you.Â
He knew it. You're not shy. You take charge of your pleasure. Just as your tongue is demanding entry in his mouth. Your hands are already tearing at his jacket, trying to pull it down his shoulders along with the flannel he's wearing underneath, so he lets go of your head for a second to shrug it off.
Since he's not touching you anyway, he uses his free hands to start ripping at your clothes as well. He pulls your shirt up and over your head, revealing a crimson lace bra underneath. Your tits look so perky, his hand immediately goes to squeeze one of them as he throws your shirt to the floor. He realizes he's never imagined taking your clothes off before, in his mind that used to be just something you had to get through to get to the good stuff, but getting to peel one layer off you after another? That's fun, too. He can't wait to finally get to the last one.
His lips are back on yours as his hands find the buttons on your jeans. He can feel you grinning into the kiss, probably at how much he is rushing things, but it's okay. He has been waiting for this for so long. He just needs to feel you. And it's not like you're not into it.
When he's got your jeans loose enough, he just shoves his hands into them, desperately grabbing at your ass. Your skin is so soft and warm, it makes him furious he can't touch all of it at the same time. Then he starts shimmying the fabric down. He's got a goal to reach here.Â
He shuffles you backwards to the bed to make things easier, and then he sees a shadow moving out of the corner of his eye. Shit. Sam.
He got so caught up in the moment, reveling in your touch that he completely forgot about the circumstances of all of this. The fact that you're not only his brother's girlfriend, but also, that Sam is right there, in the room with you.
He throws his brother a nervous look, as if he's asking for permission when clearly he doesn't seem to be objecting to any of this. It still reassures him when Sam chuckles.
âDean, it's fine. Just enjoy it.â And Dean decides that's all the encouragement he needs. This is not a time to worry. This is a time to savor. And savor he will.
He hastily helps you down on the bed, pulls your pants off you as soon as your feet are in the air. Then he takes a moment to look at the tableau. Of course, your panties match the bra. And funnily enough, so do the sheets you picked out for Dean. You just look like you belong there, in his bed. What a coincidence.Â
He starts taking his shirt off, then his pants, and when he's finally in his boxers he crawls onto you. The way your eyes blink up at him has him forgetting everything around him. His head dips down, his lips going to your jaw, teeth nibbling their way down to your neck. When he reaches your pulse point and bites down a little harder, your entire body twitches under him, making him shiver.Â
You arch your body into him, giving him more access to your neck and Dean starts to double down. The trail of his lips over your body is wet and warm, his touch making your body quiver with lust. Those sounds he's been hearing through the walls for weeks? This time, it's him doing that to you. It's you responding to his touch. You being blind with lust from the way he's handling you.
His heart almost stops when he suddenly feels your hand on his boxers. He buries his face in the valley of your breasts, trying to stifle the low groan that's escaping him at your touch. When he moves his mouth to the side, finding one of your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra, you moan that sinfully high pitched moan he's been dreaming about, and up this close it's even more divine.
He nearly loses it then and there when you take him out of his boxers, your small fist closing around his length, the pressure so perfect it makes him want to curse. When you start pumping he has to stop what he's doing to take a moment to look at you. He's already breathing so heavily that he's worried he won't last long. And the way you're licking your lips, the way you're enjoying how you're making him feel⌠he needs to do something about it. He needs to be inside you. Right now.
Dean pushes himself up, skin already burning with the ghost of your touch. His hand snakes under your back, finding the clasp of your bra and pulling it off you in seconds like a magician. He calls the move the Copperfield for a reason. He's just as quick removing your panties, shimmies out of his boxers and without any of the cumbersome fabric left on either of you, he can finally dive in.
He looks you deep in the eyes as his fingers trace a line from your bellybutton, ghosting over your mound and finally finding your entrance. God, you're wet. Sam might have warmed you up a little before he came in, but this is on Dean. You're entire body pulses as he pushes two fingers in. It might just be a tiny wave slowly reclaiming the shore, but he knows the high tide is right around the corner. He's going to get you there.
Dean starts exploring your body with his fingers, mapping the points that make you shiver most. This is what he's good at. He's already got the pulse point in your neck, your breasts, obviously, and he's found another spot inside you that made you throw your head back in ecstasy.
He likes the way you whimper when he pulls his fingers from you, and he knows he's rushing things, but you're ready to take him. And if he plays his cards right, doesn't hog you the entire night, maybe there's a chance he'll get to do this again.
He's towering over you, his face so close to yours that he can feel your warm breath on his lips.
âHow do you want me?â
There's a sudden glow to your eyes, and within an instant you've got him turned around on his back.
He's lying there, his hands on your hips, so ready for you to be in charge. He can feel his cock already leaking as you tease him against your entrance. And then you sink down on him, slowly, your eyes fluttering shut. Your chest heaves, he can see you relishing every inch he's giving you. Dean knows that this is it. The thing that all the songs are written about, you're the kind of girl that makes men throw everything overboard, quit their jobs, sell their car, rob a bank. He'd do all of these things if it meant he could watch this face slowly twisting with pleasure forever.
When your eyes open again he's fully seated inside you and there's a delicious little burn on his chest from where your nails are digging into his skin. Your gaze is heavy on him, and he's not entirely sure what you're thinking, not until you turn around looking over your shoulder.Â
The movement makes Dean sink even deeper into your pussy, which is good because otherwise his ego might feel a little hurt that instead of looking at him you're now looking at Sam.
He pulls you firmly against him and starts thrusting up, making you gasp, your mouth dropping open as you look at your boyfriend. And then he suddenly gets it. He gets what this is about. He runs his hands over your body once more, pinches your nipples, commits the face you're making to his memory.
Then he takes your chin into his left hand and turns your face back to him.
âWhy don't you turn around, sweetheart?â
You think for a second, and then he sees a content smile spreading over your lips. You're quick as you get up and turn around, leaving Dean outside of you for only a couple of seconds, and then you're on him again. And while it's a shame that he can't see your pretty face in this position, your back is just as much of a sight to behold. He has to close his eyes and take a deep breath for a second as you wiggle left and right to get him perfectly seated again because the way your ass is looking against his abs is just sinful. He feels you steadying yourself on his knees, your back arching, looking like goddamn cello.Â
He hears you moan as you press yourself down on him, and then you start moving up and down. Dean holds his breath for the first couple of times that you're bouncing on his dick. The way he gets to watch you, to see him entering you over and over again is more than he could ever have dreamt of. His hands are firmly holding on to your ass, and it's the only thing grounding him, reminding him that he's an actual person with a physical body and not just a soul floating in paradise.
Nothing could ruin this moment, this peak of pleasure, not even your voice cracking as he hears you moaning his brother's name. Saying that you love him.
He sees Sam moving toward you at the same time as he feels you leaning forward. The new angle has him straining against your walls, but you keep your movement up, the stimulation so intense that he's scared he'll come any second now.
He can hear you gagging, moaning with pleasure as Sam shoves his dick down your throat, throwing you slightly off your rhythm. But you're quick to catch yourself again, and you violently clench around him as the sounds you're making with your mouth become filthier by the second.
It's like an out-of-body experience when he hears himself cursing, saying he's going to come, seconds before he pulls you flush against him, hips bucking up. He's not sure he's not marking up your skin with how hard he's holding onto you, but you seem to enjoy it every bit as much as he is, because the sound that's trying to leave your body through your full mouth is more than unambiguous. All of your body shivers, you whimper and tensen up, and when he hears Sam cussing as he grabs a fistful of your hair he knows that all three of you just came at the same time.
You don't immediately try to get up from his lap. You're still shaking, coming down from high, trying to catch your breath. But you sit up, core still wobbly, and Dean's right there to catch you as you let yourself fall back against his chest. You're still looking at Sam, your boyfriend, an impish grin on your rosy cheeks as he feels himself growing soft and finally slipping out of you.
Sam's kneeling in front of the bed now, his chin resting on his forearms between your legs. He's looking up at you like a puppy in love. Dean hears his brother saying something, you giggling in response.
Dean tilts his head down, pushes his nose into your hair and takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes. Shudders slightly.
Can you believe we're only one week away from October? The leaves are turning red, the air is getting cooler. There's rancid fuckin' everywhere. What? Did...did you guys hear that? Is that...? Oh, wow, okay. Uhm, guys, wait, this is only the announcement post. It hasn't started yet. Stop fucking!!
Okay, jeez. Close call. Let's try this again.
Welcome, officially, to my second Smutober/Kinktober (which I've now given a pretentious name):
I'm excited to be sharing 18 new fics with you this month! We got Sam and Dean gettin' busy in all kinds of ways! Straps! Cabins! Headsets! Many, many bodily fluids! A few special guests that aren't either of the brothers! Sub!Dean! So much sub!Dean!
I've decided, for my personal sanity and so as not to burn myself out, to not do the full month this year, as well as not to do a challenge for others to participate in. There will be one next month for fluffy fics however! So keep your little orbs peeled for that!
Each fic will contain its own content warnings. I've kept them all under 3k words (except one or two where I got carried away) so that if you want to keep up throughout the month, that should might maybe be possible.
I've created several series from the fics I wrote for last year's challenge, so if you like something - don't be shy, let me know! I love hearing your thoughts! There's a good chance I'll return to some of them if the muse tongue fucks kisses me.
Now without (even) further ado, here is the list!
List of Smutober 2025 fics
October 2 - Squirting (x Dean)
October 4 - Cockwarming (x Sam)
October 5 - Gender swap (x fem!Dean)
October 7 - Fuck or die (x Sam & Dean)
October 9 - Blindfolded (x Sam)
October 11 - Threesome (x Ruby x Meg)
October 12 - Phone sex (x Sam)
October 14 - Making out (x Sam & Dean)
October 16 - Erectile dysfunction (x Sam)
October 18 - Discipline (x Sam & Dean)
October 19 - Sexting (x Dean)
October 21 - Semi-public (x Sam)
October 23 - Strap-on (x Dean)
October 25 - Brat (x John)
October 26 - Consensual non-consent (x Dean)
October 28 - Masturbation (x Sam)
October 29 - Humiliation (x Dean)
October 30 - Biting (x Sam)
*All fics will be going up at 3 PM CET, so if that messes with the dates depending on what timezone you are in, I'm really sorry. I'm a dumb blonde with a smut rotted mind, bless.
**Psst, if you want to see my fics from last year, you can find the entire list here on AO3, or find my favorite ones which I've since uploaded to Tumblr here under the tag "sorry's kinktober 2024".
byi: this is smut, obviously. d.w x fem reader, oral sex, piv, porn without plot, multiple orgasms, praise with slight degradation, unsafe sex, starting a little light for day one.. not proofread
you had been teasing dean all day. just the little things like when you would drop something and bend over right in front of him in your jeans, the curve of your ass and the fabric tightening around your thighs. the blood rushed straight to his dick right then and there.
or when you were changing before a hunt and slipped your lounging shirt off in a way that made dean have to stop and stare. his arms snaked around your waist from behind, âbaby come on, letâs make sammy wait up just a minute?â he whispered into your ear. but you felt a little cheeky, and shook your head no, which was unusual for the two of you. ânot right now, we have a job to do.â dean looked at you in a way that was almost like you refused to play with a puppy.
and just about an hour ago when you took a trip to the bar, you leaned over the counter and flirted your way to a free drink with the bartender. giggling and tucking your hair behind your ear, eyes never leaving the manâs face. dean watched, he was usually okay with it because you both agreed free is free but today he just wasnât having it. you got your drink and finished it up dean pulled you out of the bar without warning.
and thatâs what got you hereâŚ
legs spread, deanâs hands holding them open, his grip tight on your thighs. his mouth sucking at your clit and tongue sliding between your folds as you cried out his name. heâs been doing this for too long and he hasnât allowed you to cum once. âdean! please- pleaseplease! fuck!â he tilted his head to look up at you, his mouth and chin glistening with your slick. âmhm, you wanna cum baby? yeah?â he cooed, and you nodded. your chest heaving up and down, trying to catch your breath. âthatâs too bad isnât it. yâ been teasing me all day, pretending you didnât know what you were doin.â
his head tilted back down as he licked a stripe up your pussy, gently sucking on your clit. âyou didnât want this?â he rasped out. you just whimpered in reply, you were so sensitive and ready to release at almost any touch. âspeak up baby, tell me you didnât want this.â but you both knew that you love this, you wanted this. âthatâs what i thought. dirty fuckinâ girl.â
deanâs mouth continued to work at your pussy til you couldnât take it anymore, were squirming and tears fell from your eyes. âdean fuckâ please! please.. iâll be good!â you said loudly. very glad dean decided to do this while sam was out. dean smiled against you, âokay baby. let go, you deserve it.â and at those very simple words you released. your juices soaking his face, the lewd noises of him licking you up filled the room. your legs shook and your body spasmed as you came down from your high.
âweâre not done.â he said roughly into your ear. he grabbed your jaw and his hands were rough against your soft skin, he pulled you into a kiss and you could taste yourself on his tongue. âcanât tease me all day and think i wonât be cumming too.â he mumbled as he gripped your thighs and pulled you close to his hips. you looked up at him with your fucked out expression, âyou can take it right honey?â and you just lazily nodded in reply.
he was only in his boxers but not for much longer, he pulled them down in a swift motion just enough for his cock to spring out. it slapped against his torso, you looked and it was throbbing and slick with his pre. you could already feel the heat pool in your tummy once again.
he gave himself a few strokes before sliding himself into you inch by inch. you gasped at the feeling, your brows furrowed and you let out a low moan as he bottomed out.
his movements were slow in the beginning, small thrusts that drove you crazy, you were still sensitive from the previous round and he just wanted to torture you. âfeel sâ good around my cock. n you look so pretty fucked out, pretty slut.â you moaned at the nickname and once he started speeding up the pace. he held your thighs, your legs up on his shoulders, and his hips snapping against your skin.
his hand moved down to rub at your sensitive clit, his finger circling around it. âdean! fuck!â you moaned out. the sensation of your already used pussy and him continuing to overstimulate you made you feel almost dizzy. your vision was white around the corner of your eyes, you could barely see dean in front of you. but you could feel him, and there was nothing better than this feeling.
deanâs pace got sloppier and faster, he could feel himself getting closer and so could you. âcan yâ give me one more baby? i know you can.â you nodded in reply. dean hit your sweet spot and you gasped, creaming around his cock. your vision went white and your eyes rolled into the back of your head, the overwhelming feeling washing over you.
he slowly pulled out of you as you came down from your high, his hand moving around his own cock and he came on your tummy. dean flopped down beside you, both of you attempting to catch your breath and collect yourselves.
âyâ all good baby?â he grabbed your waist, pulling you in closer. âmhm.. mâ just worn out.â you giggled, and he smiled. âletâs get you cleaned up.â
an: day one completed! i live pst btw if this is late for any of u! please lmk what you think ^_^ and stay tuned for day 2 luvvies.
The motel room is quiet except for the hum of the old AC unit and the sound of your breathing. Samâs already asleep in the other room, and Deanâs stretched out beside you on the too-small bed, still half-wired from the hunt. His body aches, muscles tight with adrenaline that hasnât faded yet, but his eyes are fixed on you.
Youâre curled against his chest, face relaxed in sleep, lips parted just enough to let out soft little breaths. One arm is draped over him, your thigh thrown carelessly across his hip like youâd been reaching for him even in your dreams. The sight makes something twist low in his gut, sharp and needy.
Dean swallows hard, dragging a hand over his face. He shouldnât. He knows he shouldnât. But the memory of your voiceâhalf-laughing, shy but sureâcomes back to him: âIf you need me and Iâm asleep⌠donât wait. I trust you.â
That trust is a weight and a gift, and tonight it burns in his chest.
âChrist, sweetheart,â he mutters under his breath, brushing his knuckles along your cheek. You stir faintly, sighing, but donât wake. His heart pounds harder.
Slowly, carefully, he shifts, easing your sleep shorts down over your hips. You move only enough to let him, pliant even in sleep. His breath catches as he palms himself through his boxers, already hard from just the thought of being inside you like this.
He presses a kiss to your bare shoulder, murmuring soft reassurance you wonât even hear: âItâs just me, baby. Just Dean.â
He fists his cock, stroking himself until heâs aching, then lines up at your entrance. He pushes in slowly, groaning at the slick heat of you, his forehead dropping against your neck. You whimper, shifting faintly, but your body accepts him, clenching around him in a way that makes his vision blur.
âShh,â he soothes, hand slipping over your mouth out of instinct, though you barely make a sound. He presses deeper, bottoming out with a shaky exhale. âGod, you feel so good.â
His pace is careful, unhurried, shallow thrusts that keep him buried in you, savoring the way your body responds even like this. Each little squeeze around him is a prayer, each sigh a hymn. You nuzzle against his chest unconsciously, and it nearly undoes him.
Dean buries his face against your hair, whispering between gritted teeth. âSweetest thing Iâve ever had. My girl. Always mine.â His hand strokes your hip slowly, grounding himself as much as you.
The pressure builds fast, too fast, the mix of guilt and reverence and raw need tightening every muscle in his body. He grinds into you, deep and slow, until his release rips through him with a groan muffled against your neck. He spills inside, holding you tight, grinding to press it deeper, not letting a drop escape.
He stays there, chest heaving, wrapped around you like a shield. For a long moment, the only sound is your steady breathing and his ragged gasps.
When he finally slips out, itâs with a soft wince at the loss of your warmth. He grabs a rag from his duffel, cleaning you up with the same careful hands that can break bones when he needs to. He pulls your shorts back up gently, tucks the blanket high around your shoulders.
Sliding back into bed, he pulls you flush against him, one arm draped heavy around your waist. He presses a kiss to your temple, whispering into your hair, more for himself than for you.
âMine. Always mine.â
And for the first time all night, Deanâs body eases. He falls asleep holding you close, the faintest smile ghosting his lips.
Dean Winchester x fem!Reader x Sam Winchester | WC: 2872
Prompt: Sex Pollen
Summary: Deanâs clumsiness should come with a warning label because now, he and Sam are both paying the price for his little accident. Lucky for them, the cure is hands-on, but thereâs a zero-percent chance that youâre getting out of this without breaking a sweat.
Tags/Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, sex pollen, double penetration, unprotected P in V sex, standing sex, no wincest, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like men
A/N: Iâm such a slut for sex pollen/sex spell fics. And for the Winchesters. Iâm a little surprised I havenât written this earlier on in my fanfic writing career.
Avery's Kinktober 2025 Masterlist
You had been halfway through prepping the counter-spell you had found in Bobbyâs journal when Dean leaned in too close, peering into the bowl in your hands.
âWhat the hell is this witchy soup?â he teased, nose wrinkling. And before you could answer, he rested his hand on the table in front of you, his elbow knocking over a vial that was perched at the edge. The shimmering, translucent powder burst into the air like smoke as the glass shattered against the ground, drifting throughout the room like a seductive cloud. While youâd had the sense to hold your breath, Sam, who was seated on the other side of the table, had gasped a half a second after the glass broke, and Dean, who had frantically reached for it as it fell, had inhaled sharply before coughing as he got a lungful of vialâs contents.
Your heart lurched as you watched both brothers freeze, the powder settling around them like glittering snow. The effects were immediate. Deanâs pupils dilated, his breathing growing shallow as he gripped the edge of the table. Samâs jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white as he pressed his palms flat against the wooden surface.
âShit,â you breathed, covering your mouth and nose with one hand and motioning for them to get out of the room with the other. âOkay, nobody panic.â But Dean was already moving, his green eyes dark and hungry as they fixed on you with an intensity that sent heat through your system despite the seriousness of the situation. Sam wasnât faring much better. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and when his gaze met yours, you could see the same desperate need reflected there.
When the three of you were safely out of the contaminated room, you leaned against the hallway wall, trying to think through your options while fighting the distraction of watching both men struggle with the effects coursing through their systems. Sam ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly as if the pain might ground him somehow.
âWhat was in that vial?â he managed, his voice strained and unnaturally deep.
âAphroditeâs Whisper,â you said. âItâs a powerful aphrodisiac. Bobbyâs journal says it can last up to twenty-four hours, butââ
âTwenty-four hours?â Deanâs laugh was rough, almost pained. âBaby, I donât think I can last twenty-four minutes like this.â His hands were trembling as he reached for you, stopping just short of grabbing your shoulders. âTell me thereâs an antidote.â
You swallowed hard, watching the way Deanâs shoulders tensed beneath his shirt and the way that Samâs breathing caught as he pressed himself flat against the opposite wall.
âThereâs⌠thereâs no traditional antidote,â you admitted, your voice just barely above a whisper. âBut there was a mention of⌠alternative methods of working it out of the system.â Samâs eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and when they opened again, the raw hunger there made your pulse quicken.
âWhat kind of alternate methods?â Sam asked even though you were confident he already knew what your answer would be. After all, Sam had read through Bobbyâs journal more thoroughly than you. You looked between them, heart hammering against your ribs. There was no doubt that you loved these men, but seeing them like this â pupils blown wide, chests heaving, hands clenching at their sides as they fought for control â it sent a rush of heat straight to your core.
âGive in to it and let your body run through it naturally. The more intense of an⌠outlet you give it, the quicker itâll work through your system.â The silence that followed was thick with tension, broken only by Deanâs sharp intake of breath and the sound of Samâs palm sliding down the wall as he tried to steady himself.
âSo what youâre saying isâŚâ Samâs voice was low and strained, âwe need toâŚâ
âYup,â you said, popping the âpâ sound and rolling your shoulders. âGood thing we didnât really have much on our agenda this evening, yeah?â
âYou sure about this sweetheart?â Deanâs voice was rough as he reached for you, his hand hovering just inches from your face. Even though he looked like he was right on the edge of excruciating discomfort, he was still a gentleman. Still giving you an out. You nodded and couldnât help but laugh a little despite yourself.
âOh, yeah, Iâm really the loser in this situation, huh? Both of my incredibly hot and sexy boyfriends just got dosed with lust dust from Hell and now they both wanna rail me until I canât walk. Real damn shame.â You gave a rueful sigh, feigning distress. Sam pushed himself off the wall, his massive frame seeming even larger than usual in the narrow hallway as he moved towards you with a predatory grace.
âIs that right?â Samâs voice was pure gravel as he closed the distance between you, pushing past Dean. His hazel eyes were almost completely black, pupils blown wide. You could feel the heat radiating from his body even before he reached you, his hand coming up to cup your jaw with surprising gentleness despite the tremor in his fingers.
Dean moved to your side, bracketing you between their broad frames. The scent of their cologne mixed with something earthier, more primal, filled your senses as Deanâs palm found the small of your back.
âYou have no idea what you do to us on a normal day,â Dean murmured against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. âThis is just dialing all of it up to eleven.â You felt your breath catch as Samâs thumb traced along your jawline, the simple touch sending electricity through your entire body. Had you inhaled some of the powder as well? Or had your body just been so finely tuned to respond to them? Either way, you werenât about to complain.
âBedroom,â you whispered, your voice coming out breathier than intended. âNow.â You didnât need to tell them twice. Deanâs hand pressed firmly against your back, guiding you down the hallway while Samâs fingers threaded through yours, his grip almost desperate. The short walk to your shared bedroom felt like an eternity, each step building the tension that crackled between the three of you.
The moment you crossed the threshold, Sam spun you around to face him, his mouth crashing against yours with an urgency that made your knees weak. His kiss was hungry, all-consuming, his hands holding the back of your head as he crowded you further into the room. Deanâs hands found your waist from behind, his fingers already working at the hem of your shirt and pulling it up and over your head as Samâs lips trailed down your throat. The cool air of the bedroom hit your skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning inside you as Deanâs chest pressed against your back, his own shirt already discarded somewhere behind you.
âGod, youâre so beautiful,â Sam breathed against your collarbone, his voice thick with need. His hands roamed your sides, memorizing every curve as if he hadnât touched you a thousand times before. But this felt different. More intense. More desperate. The aphrodisiac had stripped away their usual restraint, leaving raw desire in its wake. Deanâs mouth found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, sucking gently as he unclasped your bra.
âWeâre gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart,â he murmured. His promise sent a shiver through you. Samâs hands moved to the waistband of your jeans, his fingers fumbling with the button in his haste. You made quick work of the buttons of Samâs flannel, reaching down to help him with the stubborn button of your jeans when you were finished. Then, you turned around to face Dean, working on the button and zipper of his jeans while Sam pushed yours down your hips.
Deanâs jeans fell to the floor with a soft thud, his boxers quickly following after. Sam had already stripped completely, his tall frame looming behind you and his arousal evident against your back. Deanâs eyes raked over your nearly naked form, his hands reaching out to trace the curve of your hip.
âTell us what you want,â Sam whispered in your ear, his large hands sliding down your sides to hook into your underwear, tugging them down.
âWell I doubt youâre going to take turns,â you teased, stepping out of your underwear as they pooled at your feet.
âI think weâre way past taking turns,â Dean growled. âNeed you now.â Samâs hands slid around your waist from behind, his lips trailing kisses along your shoulder.
âWe both do.â
You felt yourself being lifted, Deanâs strong arms hoisting you up as your back pressed against Samâs chest. Samâs hands steadied you, his fingers splaying across your rib cage as Dean positioned himself between your legs. The feeling of being suspended between them, being entirely at their mercy, made your head spin with desire.
âLike this,â Dean said, his eyes locked with yours as Sam pressed against your back, the heat of their bodies enveloping you completely. âWant to watch you come apart while weâre both inside you.â A whimper escaped your lips at his words, your core clenching with need. âHold onto me.â You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, feeling the hard muscle beneath your fingertips as Sam adjusted his grip, his hands sliding down to the back of your thighs. Dean shifted, hooking his forearms beneath your knees and holding you open for him.
The anticipation built as you felt Deanâs hardness pressing against your entrance, his green eyes searching yours for permission even through the haze of the aphrodisiac. You nodded breathlessly, and he pushed into you slowly, stretching you in a way you were sure you were never going to get enough of.
âThatâs it, baby,â Dean groaned, his voice strained as he seated himself fully inside you. The angle had you completely open to him, every nerve ending on fire as you adjusted to the fullness. Behind you, Samâs breathing grew more ragged against your neck. His lips found your ear, voice a rough whisper.
âYou ready for me too?â The question sent another wave of heat through you, and you could only manage a desperate nod and a soft noise of acknowledgement. You heard the vague sound of the bedside drawer sliding open, and Samâs warmth was gone for half a breath before he returned, slick fingers gently pressing at your ass. The lube was cool, and you gasped slightly as Sam worked you open with careful, deliberate movements, his free hand steadying you against Deanâs chest. âBreathe for me,â Sam murmured. His preparation was thorough but urgent, and there was no hiding the urgency thrumming through him. When his fingers were replaced by the blunt pressure of his cock, you couldnât suppress the moan that escaped your lips.
âEasy, sweetheart.â Dean pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezed shut like it was physically paining him to keep still. âWeâve got you.â
Sam pushed forward slowly, and the sensation of being filled by both of them at once overwhelmed every other thought in your mind. Your breath caught in your throat as he sank into you inch by inch until he finally bottomed out, your body stretched to its limits between them.
âJesus,â Sam hissed through gritted teeth, his forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder. âSo tight.â
For a moment, neither of them moved, the room filled with only the sound of labored breathing as your body adjusted. Deanâs fingers dug into your thighs, his control visibly slipping as the Aphroditeâs Whisper coursed through his system. Samâs hands gripped your waist, holding you steady even as the entirety of his body practically trembled with need.
âYou okay?â Dean asked, his eyes searching yours with a hint of concern beneath the lust.
âNever better,â you managed, your voice barely recognizable to your own ears. âYou guys can move. Iâm good.â You shifted slightly, causing both men to groan in unison.
They started slowly but quickly found a rhythm that had your head falling back against Samâs shoulder. Dean pulled back before thrusting forward again while Sam matched his movements in perfect counterpoint. When one withdrew, the other pushed deeper, never leaving you fully empty and never giving you a moment to catch your breath.
The sensation was indescribably, every nerve ending in your body singing in unison as they moved within you. Your fingernails dug into Deanâs shoulders, leaving crescent marks on his skin as you gasped and clung to him. It didnât take long for their synchronized movements to grow more urgent. More desperate. The aphrodisiac drove them to a frenzied pace that had you gasping their names.
âFuck, you feel so good,â Dean groaned, his voice strained as his hips snapped up into yours. Behind you, Samâs breath was hot against your neck, one hand sliding around to cup your breast, his thumb circling your nipple in a way that made you arch back against him.
âSo perfect,â Sam muttered, his lips trailing along your shoulder. âTaking both of us so well.â Your body was on fire, caught between them as they worked you towards a release that felt as inevitable as it was overwhelming.
âI canâtââ you gasped, your words cutting off as Deanâs angle shifted slightly, hitting a spot deep inside you that completely fried your ability to form words. Your body tensed between them, every muscle coiling tight.
âThatâs it,â Dean encouraged, his voice rough and commanding. âLet go for us.â Samâs hand slid down from your breast to find your clit, his fingers working tight circles that had you crying out for them.
âCome on, pretty girl,â Samâs voice was absolute sin against your ear. âNeed to feel you fall apart.â
That was all it took. The coil of tension in your core snapped like a rubber band, and your orgasm crashed over you with an intensity that left you breathless and shaking. You clenched around both of them, drawing groans from their throats.
âFuck, yes,â Dean growled through gritted teeth, his movements becoming erratic. The feeling of you coming apart between them was plenty of encouragement. Sam came first, a low groan rumbling through his chest as he spilled inside you, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks. You gasped his name, feeling him pulse within you.
Dean followed moments later, his head falling forward to rest against your chest as he thrust deep one final time, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. For several long moments, the three of you stayed that way, chests heaving as you all came down from the high.
When they finally pulled out of you, your legs were shaking so badly that Sam had to carry you to the bed, gently laying you down on the rumpled sheets. You half expected exhaustion to take over, but as you glanced up at both men hovering over you, you got the very distinct feeling that you were going to learn what exhaustion really meant.
Deanâs pupils were still blown wide, his chest rising and falling heavily as he wet his lips. Samâs hands were already moving across your skin again, mapping the curves of your body with desperate reverence. The brief respite had clearly done nothing to quell the fire burning in their veins.
âHow are you feeling?â Sam asked, his voice still thick with need. His fingers traced along your thigh, and you could see the hunger still simmering behind his eyes.
âLike I might not survive the next twenty-three hours,â you replied with a breathless laugh. âBut, man, is it going to be a way to go.â Dean chuckled, but it sounded strained as he sat on your other side.
âYeah, well, weâre just getting started.â His eyes trailed down your body, lingering on the swell of your breasts. âWeâll try and go easy on you,â he said, though his hand was already sliding up your inner thigh. You gave him a knowing smile, your body still humming with aftershocks.
âSays the man who looks like heâs about to devour me whole.â Samâs responding laugh was low and dark as he stretched out beside you, propping himself up on one elbow.
âThatâs exactly what Iâm planning to do,â Dean confirmed, the corner of his mouth lifting into a predatory smirk that sent fresh heat through your system.
You were still catching your breath when Dean pulled you towards him, catching your lips in a surprisingly tender kiss despite the fire still evident in his eyes. His tongue slid against yours with deliberate patience that belied the urgency thrumming through him.
âRound two already?â you murmured against his lips.
âRound two of about five or six,â Dean answered, his hand sliding up your inner thigh with feather-light touches. âMaybe more.â
âDonât make promises you canât keep, Winchester.â You felt Samâs lips press to the back of your neck, his fingers trailing down your spine.
âPretty girl,â Samâs voice was a rumble against your ear. âWhen have we ever made a promise we couldnât keep?â You shuddered.
âNever.â
You didnât have to see their matching grins to feel them.
---
Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!
SUMMARY - you and dean decide to try something a little different but you quickly find neither of you are very good at it
WARNINGS - smut. piv. kinda public sex. lots and lots and lots of dirty talk. mentions of drugs.
WORD COUNT - 3.5k
â°â⤠Thereâs something about a rowdy dive bar in the middle of Nowhere, Random State No. 4 that really gets the blood pumping after a naff day researching at the local library. It was just after ten at night when Dean decided he was gonna get the lay of the year that nightâ8 minutes into the movie heâd illegally pirated specifically to keep himself from getting bored and leaving to drive about the streets until 3am.
Heâs gulping down his third beer 20 minutes later, a double whiskey neat lying ready for the taking by the hand not wrapped around the ice cold bottle. The music is a bunch of mumbling modern bullshit heâs never really taken a liking to, the lights dim but not enough to hide the scandalous going ons in the back right corner booth between two seriously coked out women. Dean sets the empty bottle down on the bar table, licking his teeth of the flavour, gaze lazing over the two women for a moment more before his green eyes flick to the door. A woman has just entered. Alone. Confident. Sexy as sin.
Youâre bored. Tired. And quite frankly, in need of some action. Even a kiss would suffice. Itâs nearing that feral time of the month again, you suppose.
Lips painted a dark glossy red, a half finished cigarette between them. You play with the ends of your hair as you sit down a couple seats away from Dean, unbeknownst. You order a double brandy and ginger ale, setting up a tab you know youâll be using tonight. A cloud of smoke is exhaled through your nose, scoping out the bar properly while you wait for your drink. The nic buzz courses through you in a short burst of exhilaration.
Your eyes skip over every face in the joint, some looking right back at you, lustful interest playing behind keen eyes, including Deanâs. In your peripheral, you notice heâs pretty nearby. Slowly, your gaze returns to him and yeah, thatâs a face that deserves to be between your thighs tonight. Hell, thatâs a face that deserves your face between his thighs. For a moment, youâre both just staring at each other, the haze of mixing blunt smoke in the air. But then the bartender sets your drink down in front of you and you break the eye contact to thank her, sipping almost innocently while his eyes burn holes in the side of your face.
You wait. A solid forty-three seconds before he finally gets up and sits beside you, presence warm and dark. Still, you keep your eyes on the dying embers of the cigarette between your fingers, lip gloss marks stained across the tip, a matching mark on the edge of the plastic cup of alcohol. You take a long gulp of it and you feel him watch your throat before he actually says anything.
âWhatâs a pretty thing like you doinâ in a dirty, no good place like this, hm?â he eventually utters, his own cup of whiskey swirling in his grasp.
The tip of your index finger plays around with the rim of your cup for a moment before you answer, eyes glancing over at him slyly. âThis is where you go if you wanna get up to dirty and no good things, isnât it?â you reply with a mischievous hum, taking another puff of your cig.
Dean hums, eyes on the way your lips wrap around the cig before dropping to that very generous shirt giving him all that cleavage for free and that goddamn orange push up bra beneath it. âThis is definitely the place for that, sweetheart.â
Finally, you turn your gaze to him, holding eye contact as you finish the rest of your drink in one long gulp. Your thumb catches a stray droplet, tongue immediately flicking out to taste it on your skin. He watches, gaze almost hungry. Heâs adjusting himself on his seat as you order yourself another drink. Dean insists he pays for it, smirk playing those pretty lips of his as he mutters something about being a gentlemanâlike heâs ever known gentlemanly behaviour to be in his personality bank.
His eyes are constantly on that bra peeking out beneath your shirt. Or more so, your tits.
âFuck, I hate you for wearing that goddamn bra,â he mutters under his breath, breaking character for a moment.
Your lips twitch up for a moment as you offer him a drag of your cigarette. He takes it wordlessly, inhaling deeply, not minding the lip gloss on it.
âYouâre not meant to know anything about this âgoddamnâ bra, Dean,â you murmur in reply, nudging up closer to him so to anyone on the outside it looks like two strangers flirting. In reality though, itâs two seriously horny 20 something year old hunters with a penchant for trying new things with each otherâhence the strangers role-play.
Dean scoffs at your words, not bothering to give you the cigarette back and instead finishing it. âHow am I meant to pretend Iâve not ever had my face buried in between those beautiful tits of yours, sweetheart?â
You only smirk, removing another blunt and light from your pocket as your next drink is set on the table between you both. âAinât that the mysterious fun of it all, baby?â
âMm, donât call me baby right now, wearingâ that bra where people can see it,â he grunts, glancing around instinctively, checking for any lingering eyes. âThatâs my fuckinâ bra.â
âIs it now?â you muse, a fresh wave of nic buzz washing over you. âI was under the impression I bought this bra for myself two years ago.â
âAnd what a great present it was fâme, sweetness,â he mutters, hand reaching for your thigh. You snatch his wrist swiftly.
âNo touching.â
He rolls his eyes, flexing his fingers as you let go. Swiftly, he flicks back to that fake curious stranger persona like he hadnât fucked you silly the past three nights in a row and was about to do so again in an hour. âYou come here alone then?â
Two men begin to raise their voices behind you both by the pool table but neither of you pay much mind to them, totally engrossed in each other. âWouldnât you like to know?â you hum, inhaling another drag and taking a long drink soon after. The mix of alcohol, nicotine, and Deanâs dirty gaze is dizzying and elating.
âI would,â he replies quickly, leaning closer. âI really fucking would, sweetheart.â His tongue darts out to lick his lips, eyes flicking up and down you again.
âNameâs not sweetheart, sweetheart,â you click your tongue, setting the plastic cup down with only dregs left in it. Your gaze drops to the whiskey in his grasp and the silver ring glinting on his middle finger. âYou gonna finish that?â
The corners of his lips twitch slightly, breaking character as the rowdy men behind you reach a crescendo of yells and accusations. One of the bartenders sighs irritably and stalks out from behind the bar to grab a bouncer. Still, itâs like the world doesnât exist.
âYou tryna leech off me already, sweetheart?â
You shrug mischievously. âWorth a try, ainât it?â
Dean only watches you for another moment before slowly bringing the drink to his lips and downing the rest of it in one go, expression relaxed and unphased from the taste as he sets the empty cup back on the table.
Your tongue rolls over the inside of your cheek, trying to hide an amused smirk. âYou got a name, stranger?â
He bites his lip to hide another smirk as he shifts to lean his elbow on the table. âMight wanna make a list of dirty names in your notes app, babe.â
A scoff escapes your glossed lips. âThat right?â you snort, fidgeting with a necklace resting on your collarbone. âYou talk a lot of cocky shit for a random guy in a dodgy bar in the middle of nowhere.â
His proud smile is dazzling. Beautiful some might say. You definitely would say that. Among a lot of other things that would make a nun faint. âOnly for sexy chicks like you, sweetness,â he replies smoothly, a bouncer having to separate the two drunk shouting men and escort them off the premises. A bunch of college kids overtake the pool table, making light fun of the almost bar fight.
âYou say that to all the sexy chicks you find in bars?â
âNope,â he grins, tapping his chest. âThis one was straight from the heart.â
You tilt your head, examining him for another moment. âYou got a room?â
âI got a car.â
You raise an amused eyebrow. âIs that the best you can do?â you muse. âIâm a very classy lady, you know.â
âMm, I bet you are.â
A laugh louder than both of you expect falls from your lips, unable to maintain nonchalantness for a second. âThat did not land the way you wanted it to.â
Dean only rolls his eyes, running a quick hand through his hair. âOh please, don't act like you werenât practically in tears the other day âcuz I didnât let you finish,â he scoffs, unable to stop himself from the retort and going totally off script.
The laughter quickly drops from your face as you hiss under your breath. âYouâre acting all cocky now in broad daylight like you donât beg for me when Iâm ridinâ you slow, baby.â
This forces a smirk onto his face, not even ashamed. âAlright,â he nods, his smirk turning predatory as he leans in to press his plush lips to your ear. His breath is warm and wet. âYou make a good point but trust me when I say thisâIâm gonna flirt with you for another hour, yeah? And then afterwards Iâm gonna take you to my car and Iâm gonna fuck you like youâre some slutty hookup in the backseat.â
When he pulls away, you look up at him with a pleased smile. âPromise?â
He hums in response, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His knuckles brush the side of your smooth face, memorising the feel.
A rowdy group of middle aged men have arrived at the bar a few seats away, harassing the bartenders and being a general nuisance. Dean takes this as his sign to stand from his stool, offering a teasing palm to you. The cuffs of his leather jacket brush the back of your hand as you accept his hand and slide off your seat. He guides you to a table near the back, a trail of smoke following you both from the lit blunt. He totally disregards the two women still going at it in the corner, his eyes all over you.
âSo,â he announces after you both sit down. The tableâs a little sticky and it smells strongly of hash but thatâs the charm of a place like this. âYou never answered my question on why youâre here tonight, sweetness.â
You raise an eyebrow, pausing for a moment to think of a flirty response. âLookingâ for a trouble thatâs worth it,â you decide to say, the words feeling cheesy and silly but feed the role-play well.
Deanâs grin widens. He likes that. âOh, I am so worth it,â he brags, assuming heâs the trouble. âYouâll be feelinâ me for months.â
âWhat makes you think I wonât forget about you in a week?â you hum, fingering your cigarette absentmindedly.
âYou wonât,â is all he replies.
Your tongue darts out to lick your lips before taking another drag. âDesperate and cocky,â you note.
He scoffs. âNah, I just know what I want.â
âAnd whatâs that?â
âThose sexy lips of yours wrapped around my cock,â he smiles like his words werenât totally vulgar and crude and disgusting and turned you the fuck on.
The table creaks as you lean forward, cleavage more visible from this angle and more importantly that bra he loves so much. âSounds messy,â you state almost blandly as though youâre not shifting desperately on the chair for any sort of friction. Your tongue kisses the back of your teeth, trying to keep your composure.
That forever smirk on his face deepens like he knows what youâre doingâhow youâre feeling. âI like my women messy.â
âOh, so Iâm yours now, huh?â
âSweetheart, you were mine the second you walked through that door.â
Your expression breaks for a moment and thereâs a split second where you think, fuck, Iâm about to lose this game and tap out because Jesus fucking Christ, this man makes me feral. But then you remember how irritating his gloating is and quickly collect yourself. You would win this. And then afterwards you could let him ravish you and whisper all sorts in your ear.
Dean licks his lips. âTell me to kiss you.â
You shake your head. âI barely know you,â you hum, finally leaning back in your chair with a soft smirk of your own.
His eyes narrow slightly but then he scoffs and smacks his lips lightly, pretending like he hasnât got the craziest boner throbbing beneath the fly of his jeans. âAlmost had you there.â
âDid you?â you hum, your legs brushing his beneath the table.
Thereâs a jolt and the table rocks. He hadnât expected the touch, the way your shoe teases up his calf while you bite your lip like youâre doing absolutely nothing. Christ, heâs never been harder. Itâs suddenly sweaty and hot and thick in the air. The background noise becomes altogether louder but more incoherent at the same time. Your foot caresses the inside of his thigh and he shudders, white-knuckling the edge of the table.
âGoddamnit,â he curses under his breath.
And the worst part about it is how disinterested you try to look. Still leaned back, cigarette balanced between your cherry lips as you pull out your phone to scroll, foot still nudging his inner thigh. One strap of your tank top slips from your shoulder. You donât bother fixing it.
But thereâs tells. The tiny ones anyone would notice if they looked at you close enough. The way your fingers tap your knee shakily. The way your thighs are pressed tightly together like youâre trying to curb the hurt.
And you are. Inside, youâre pulsing like hell. Hot and melted and borderline uncomfortable. Youâre so wet, it wouldn't even surprise you if you left evidence on the chair once Dean inevitably drags you out of there.
The ache swells below your belly button, seizing your insides, drowning all sensible thought. You finish your smoke and grab another, unable to stop because if you did, youâd end up jumping into his lap.
Every time you moved your foot to tease him, your jeans would shift just right and the delicious friction would send jolts up your spine. Heâd lick his lips again and fuck, a moan almost escapes you.
âYouâre hurtinâ me, baby,â he rasps out, adjusting himself like heâs in pain. Your foot finally drops. He lets out a soft gasp, palm pressing against the zip of jean as though trying to relieve himself. Itâs a sadistic cage, his cock begging to be released.
âYou want me to be sorry?â
âI want you on your knees sucking me off,â he lets out, accompanied by a pained laugh. His gaze flicks down to the hand loosely hanging between your knees, inching up your thighs. âHands on the table, baby. You ainât cheating. Youâre already grinding that fuckinâ chair like it owes you money.â
You smile lowâdangerous. âYouâve rubbed your dick like five times already.â
He shrugs. âItâs hungry for ya.â
âFor my mouth?â you hum. âDean, you wouldnât last sixty seconds if I got on my knees right now.â
He clicks his tongue. âThat supposed to be an insult to me or a compliment to yourself?â
âBoth,â you smile pleasantly. âI wouldn't mind as long as you make a mess all over my tongue.â
His hand slams down on the tableâpure instinct. Thereâs a primal need coursing though him and he genuinely canât take it anymore. âBaby, stop talking or Iâm gonna bend you over the hood of my car and fuck you so hard the shocks snap.â
âIâd let ya,â you muse, thighs rubbing together slow and delicious. âBut only if you crack first. Call it quits, babe.â
He squeezes his eyes shut, head in his hands trying desperately to compose himself. You lean further across the table, resting your chin in your hand and continuing to rub your thighs together. âFuck,â you mutter under your breath, feeling your panties sticking and your toes curling.
Dean hisses, his entire body trembling. His cock twitches at the little hums she makes.
Itâs not a shock when he breaks. Itâs not dramatic when he stands abruptly. Itâs not surprising when he grabs your wrist and yanks you out of your seat, the cigarette snub falling to the ground as he finally finally drags you out of that godforsaken bar.
He manoeuvres you in front of him, big hands curling around your biceps. His warm lips press into the shell of your ear. âYou win, baby.â
The night air is cool outside but not cold. Dean had conveniently parked Baby under a shadowy bridge down the street.
You donât even make it to the car before his lips are on you. Both of you are trembling like crazy, licking into each otherâs mouths, teeth clashing messily. You're both stumbling forwards and back across the sidewalk, your hands exploring every inch and his mostly squeezing your tits.
And when your back finally hits the side of the Impala, he doesnât even bother taking out the keys. Heâs grinding into you and you're gasping into his mouth, desperate little moans lodged in the back of your throat. Your fingers lace into his hair, gripping tight. Youâve never been so turned on in your life. Itâs tight and hot and uncomfortable and with each sloppy grind that edge gets so close you think you might actually cum your pants before heâs even touched you properly.
âFuck, baby, just give it to me,â you gasp into his mouth, hands shaking as you fumble with his belt buckle. His hips buck into your hands. He lets out a loud grunt, hand gripping the car behind you tightly while the other snakes down to unbutton your own jeans, fingers slipping down to search for that ruined fabric. A choked moan leaves you both.
âShit, youâre soaked as fuck,â he rasps, voice hoarse as his lips connect with your neck.
âNeed you,â you gasp, grinding down onto his fingers. âOh my god, I need you so fucking bad.â
Heâs panting into your neck, unable to do anything as you finally shove his jeans and boxers down just enough to squeeze his cock out, hand immediately wrapping around it the warm thickness of it. âAh- F-Fuck- D-Donât-Â Shit.â
You don't even care that you're in the streets right now. You donât even care when you shimmy your jeans and panties down to your knees so you can part your thighs enough for him to sink himself into you. Neither of you move when he finally gets inside of you, trembling like youâve just been dipped in an ice bath. His forehead hits your shoulder, panting like a fucking puppy with his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. Your nails dig into his biceps, biting down on your tongue to try curb that feeling of pleasure from tipping too early.
When he moves, itâs quickâsharp and snappy. The car creaks with every erratic thrust, moving slightly with you both. You try desperately to keep quiet but it feels so fucking good. âDonât stop,â you gasp, head thrown back. âOh god, please donât!â
âMânot, baby,â he gasps back, lips latching back onto your neck.
Neither of you last much longer. You clamp down on him pretty quickly, unable to stop the moan of ecstasy when you finally get that release. The tightness triggers his own orgasm and then you both cumâtogether. Violently.
Youâre out of breath when the high finally knocks you both on your asses.
âHoly shit,â you gasp, chest heaving as you fall limp against the carâs side, your thighs dripping. The reality of the cold outside air hits you like a wall and you shiver, feeling exposed. âWhat the hell was that?â
Deanâs face is still buried in your neck, his arms wrapping around you tightly. It takes a long moment for him to respond with words, his cock softening inside of you. âThat⌠we need to do that pretending shit more often, holy fuck.â
You let out a low laugh. âDean, ignoring the fact neither of us lasted thirty seconds there much less sixty, please pull out before someone walks by.â
He groans like itâs the hardest thing heâs ever had to think about doing.
âIâll suck you off in the backseat,â you offer and that snaps him out of his reverie. His head lifts from your neck to look at you, face flushed, hair a wild mess, and lips all red and shiny.
âPromise?â
âOnly if you return the favour.â
He grins widely. âDonât even gotta ask fâthat, sweetheart. I got you.â
casey's extra bit of thought ââ i think i cooked with this one, i'm ngl. this is the first time i've posted something on tumblr but this ain't my first rodeo so hopefully y'all like it
đŻđ you should see the things we do in my dreams || sam winchester x fem!reader đŻđ
âś warnings: pining, forced proximity/one bed trope, sexsomnia, friends to ???, grinding, oral sex (f receiving), munch!sam, is this exhibitionism?
âś summary: sam is harbouring a bit more than a major crush on you, and tonight you might just let him show you how important you really are to him.
âś word count: how long is a piece of string? 5.1k words apparently...
quick note: inspired by one of my fav fics ever by @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth (please go read it and their other work!!!) - genuinely think about it dailyâŚ
Road tripping is simultaneously your favourite and least favourite thing to do with the Winchester brothers.Â
When a hunt takes you far away from the bunker - where thereâs nothing but forest after forest or field after field, town after town, and stateline after stateline - you feel most at home when youâre on the road in the four walls of that sleek and purring black metal machine that etches memories onto your body like youâre a vinyl record. Blaring rock ânâ roll music (and the occasional pop tune, but Dean will deny it despite him tapping along on the steering wheel) down the highway, bickering on acceptable answers for a game of âI spyâ, and a never-ending mixture of sweet and savoury treats keeps the three of you going for hours. Sometimes, youâd wish the hunt would never end.
The sleeping arrangements, on the other hand, sometimes make you wish that God would come down and smite you himself.
If youâre lucky enough, the three of you secure two separate hotel rooms where everyone gets their own bed to sprawl out in.Â
On those other days where youâre not so lucky, though, the sight of only one set of keys dangling in Samâs hand and his tight-mouthed look as he leaves the reception makes you and Dean both groan and roll your eyes.
In this event, the brothers would both insist that a lady âeven one as rough as yourselfâ was never to take the floor and had to take one of the two beds, while they rock-paper-scissored each other on who took the couch (if that was even an option). Dean usually drew the short strawâŚ
Although you appreciated the comfort and warmth of a bed regardless of the groaning noises the old mattresses would make under the tiniest amount of weight, or how musty and thin the bedspread was, the squabbling and sardonic chivalrousness of the brothers really started to grind your gears. After a couple months of this set-up, and a few sore backs later, your frustration peaked and you snapped at how ridiculous and stubborn they were being.Â
Now, a single-motel-room-stay means you rotate between who you share one of the two beds with because youâre smaller than the two 6-foot giants to hunt with, and the easiest to sleep next to. Lucky you.
A road trip hunt with a Dean-bedshare means headphones or heavy sleeping pills are a must - that man snores like his life depends on it. Whilst youâll never be cold in a bed with that human radiator, he does also love to starfish, which means space is a bit of luxury. Â
Sam gets nervous when itâs his nights.Â
He knows this sleeping arrangement is less than optimal for you, especially when youâre with Sam because heâs just so big, and youâre just putting up with it because you care about both of them, but that doesnât mean he wonât make sure youâre as comfortable as you can possibly be.
When he knows itâs his rotation, Sam replicates the bed positioning in your room at the bunker by pushing the motel bed into the corner of the room furthest away from the door so that you can be against the wall, where you feel safest. A present (read: security blanket) from being a hunter for so many years.Â
So after Baby pulls into this cross-country huntâs motel carpark just before midnight, a late spring heat still simmering in the air, and Sam returns with only a single set of keys, he knows this week is going to be difficult - itâs his turn with you.Â
Samâs had a crush on you from the moment you fired a shotgun shell filled with salt past his head at a particularly nasty demon who had him in a chokehold one squeeze away from death. But heâs loved you since the night you cried into his shoulder after youâd lost an entire family to a Wendigo eight months ago. Heâd rubbed your back in soothing circles to calm you down, burying his nose into your hair and whispering itâs okay repeatedly. He could never turn back from that night.Â
The ceiling fan whirs quietly above, the wind current soft in the room. Sam is stripped down into a white singlet and black sleep shorts on the bedâs left side, the top sheet covering his legs as he lies with his back propped up by a pillow against the motel wall. The bedside table lamp to Samâs left colours his body in a faint yellow and orange so that he can read while he waits for you.
Heâs moved the bed already, now tucked under a large window where silvery clouds glow outside in the sky.Â
He tries to act nonchalant when you open the bathroom door and step out into the shared room, a light baggy shirt sitting half-off your shoulder that finishes just above where your sleep shorts end. He tries not to gawk at your exposed thighs, hunching his shoulders and dipping his head down to stare at the book in his hands to distract himself.Â
The bottom of the bed dips on its right side by the wall as you sit to watch the crappy soap opera on the TV. Sam slightly lowers his book to peek at you as you mindlessly plait your hair at the edge of the bed. He admires how soft you look. If he had the guts, heâd crawl behind you, kiss your shoulder, and do your hair himself. Heâs watched you enough times to know how to do it, but most importantly, how you like it done.
Deanâs already called it a night. His snores not quite drowned out by the TV.
âDo you want me to keep the TV on?â, you call to Sam as you tie off your plait, still facing the TV.
âUh, no,â he replies softly, ânot unless you need it to fall asleep?â
âNo, Iâll be okay.â You half turn your body to smile at him, before putting out your hand for Sam to pass you the remote. His heart stammers as you make eye contact.
Samâs noticed you only really have the TV on during the night when youâre sharing a bed with Dean. Heâs not quite sure what that means, yet.
He rests his book on his lap to grab the remote and leans forward to hand it to you. He thinks about spreading his fingers across the remote so that your fingers graze his as you take it, but decides against this. The TV clicks off.
Sam watches as you climb up the bed and pulls the sheet back for you to hop under. Although you make him nervous, he wishes he could do this every night.
You settle in the bed - Sam bookmarking his current page and placing it on the bedside table before turning the lamp off. He shuffles down the bed and rolls onto his right shoulder so that heâs facing you at eye level.Â
You both stare at each other, silently and serenely. Your face is laying against your pillow, the top of your right hand resting in your left palm just under your jaw. Moonlight caresses the right side of your body and Sam thinks youâre glowing; angelic. He worries youâll hear his heart beat thundering in his chest if you listen into the mattress carefully enough.Â
A couple inches separate your bodies - perhaps three-hands-wide. Itâs an acceptable amount of space for two close friends, but that boundary could easily and quickly be crossed. A small shift forward by your hands, your legs, or your face is all it would take.Â
A particularly loud snore leaves Deanâs chest, making both of you quietly giggle.
âGod, heâs so loudâ, Sam groans.
âI know. I think he could take on a lawn mower with that snoreâ, you chuckle.
âMaybe even a Boeing 747.â You snort at that. Samâs heart leaps at making you laugh.
You both chat for a bit about the day, as well as life in general - a key element to your routine when sharing a bed with Sam. Every feature of your face is lit so sweetly. He can see how your nose scrunches and your eyelashes flutter when you passionately talk about something you like. Sam knows that when you fall asleep later, heâll sneakily admire your face in its unguarded state, with the soft beautiful noises that fall from your lips when youâre deep in sleep. He thinks that might be his favourite view.
âGoodnight, Sammy.â You smile softly at him.
Sam returns your comment, his voice dropping to a whisper as he says your name.
You nestle in the bed to get yourself comfortable for sleep, before closing your eyes. A small sigh leaves your nose.Â
Sam looks down at the blanketed curve of your waist. It moves gently with the rise and fall of your quiet breaths. You were so close to him that he could reach out and touch you if he wanted to. He really wanted to.
With his index finger, Sam traces the dips of your body along the mattress in the small space between you both. His eyes close briefly as he imagines how youâd feel against his fingertips. He does sort of know how it would feel, though - heâs grabbed your arm and your waist when youâve slipped in front of him; heâs held your hand when heâs pulled you up onto a wall youâre too short to climb; and heâs felt you shoulder to shoulder and back to chest when hiding from some monster hunting you. Sam just wishes he could touch you in a way other than a friend does⌠Like a lover wouldâŚ
His eyes drift open and they return to your face. When they reach your eyes, he realises youâre staring right back at him. He freezes.Â
âHi,â you whisper sweetly, shifting your head a little, âcanât sleep?â
Samâs not sure how to react. Heâs like a deer caught in the headlights. How long have you been awake? Did you notice him looking at you? Could you see that it was a look of more than a friend? Of someone who longed badly to reach out and touch you?Â
He shakes his head timidly against his pillow at your question. Sam is suddenly aware of the heat from your body. He himself feels like a nuclear bomb about to self-destruct. âI think itâs the heat.â
You hum. âIâd offer to turn up the fan, but I think it only has one speed.â
Thereâs a beat of silence. âHow about we take the sheet off, Sammy?â
The way you say his name makes his stomach flip. He doesnât have time to react as you sit up on your left arm and lean over him to rip the sheet off, your breasts pressing briefly across his chest. Samâs nostrils flare and he takes a big swallow, his throat bobbing noticeably. He tries to stifle a groan and not think about it.Â
When you lie back down, youâre closer to Sam than before. Maybe one-and-a-half-hands-wide separate you now. âThat better?â, you ask.
âYeah,â he breathes. God, youâre so close to him. He can smell the faint remains of your perfume from the day. It sends a rush through his body and warms his chest.Â
Sam notices your eyes glide over his face, stopping for a moment on his lips. A gentle smile appears on your face, then your eyes return to his. Sam feels his cheeks redden, his breathing quickening and lips parting. He canât tell if he wants you to keep looking at him like that or if he wants to bury his face in the sheets.Â
You shuffle a few centimetres closer, your lips also parting. Your eyes are locked with his. âGood.âYou reach out and squeeze his left bicep. He tenses, waiting for your soft, warm hand to return to your side. But it doesnât. It just sits there on his skin. His eyes snap down to look at your small hand on him. He takes a shallow, shaky breath and looks back at you.
He swears he sees a glint in your eyes, something with a suffocating heat simmering behind it, that is asking him to touch you. He tries to pass it off as a trick of the moonlight, but then your hand starts to rub tenderly up and down his arm. Youâve never touched him like this before. Itâs simultaneously calming yet maddening. It ignites the nerves under his skin with each slide.Â
You both sit in silence for a minute.
But Samâs mind is racing. Is this really happening? He hears your breathing speed up. Do you actually want me the way I want you? Your hand pauses on his arm. Keeping touching me. He sees you looking at your hand, beginning to move it back to your side. No. Donât take your hand away, please.
Sam swallows again, thinks fuck it, and finally gets the courage to touch you. He tries to be slow and tender, but he moves too fast, grabbing your wrist hanging midair between your bodies. It makes you take a sharp inhale at the sudden contact.
He goes to speak, but words fail him. Jesus, fuck. He blinks a little stupidly, adjusting his grip to be softer, then slides his hand up your arm to your elbow. He briefly stops, inhales, then moves his hand to rest down on your waist.Â
Heâll hit his head agonist a wall if he lets this moment pass.Â
Samâs hand falls on the band of your sleep shorts, a small section of your skin is exposed where your shirt has ridden up. He echoes your movements on his arm ever so slowly. You let out a small sigh. Or was it a little moan? His hand flexes.Â
Your legs move first, finding his knees to press yours against; followed by your hips, so close that he knows a roll of yours or his hips would cross that boundary of friendship forever; your chest, maybe a finger apart; and then your face. Â
You tilt your head up slightly, your nose brushing his. Your lips are so close to his that your next breath out ghosts his mouth. He can smell your toothpaste, now. A growing heat blooms in his groin.Â
That beat of silence returns, but this time itâs different. Itâs heavier. Samâs ears burn - a mixture of love, need, admiration, and hunger. Another beat passes. The low whirring of the ceiling fan blows the electric current running between both of you.
You lift your hand to cup the left side of Samâs face. Your thumb strokes once against his jaw. His eyelids flutter. Samâs fighting the urge so hard to not just grab your hair and smash your face into his.Â
âI dream about you touching me, Sammyâ. The words fall so effortlessly from your mouth Sam thinks he misheard you. Then you lean in.
A very quiet whimper escapes his throat as your lips carefully meet his. Itâs warm, sweet, fearful, relieving.Â
Fuck.
Sam can feel you humming faintly against his lips. Fuck fuck.Â
Your fingers, stilled on his face, slide to the back of his head to bury themselves in his soft brown hair. At first, they curl gently, tenderly rubbing his head. Then you tug - not hard - just enough to bring him in deeper to the kiss, to tell him you want more. Samâs eyes roll to the back of his head.Â
âSammy,â you breathe against his lips, eyes hooded. His hand on your waist is heavier. His touch turns to a grip. He can feel the goosebumps rising on your skin.
The gap between your bodies closes as you roll your hips into him, he groans into your mouth, his brow scrunching. Sam canât ignore your breasts pressed against his chest, now. And you canât ignore his thick and hard cock nudging your core.Â
Both you and Sam have clearly forgotten about Dean in the next bed over, snoring lightly. Or maybe neither of you care. But who can blame you, you have more pressing matters at hand.
Your hand is still buried in Samâs hair, tugging more frantically now. Samâs right arm moves from underneath him to grab the side of your neck, pulling you in impossibly closer. He can feel your pulse thudding in his hand. Itâs as quick as his deafening his ears.Â
This is it, Sam thinks. Donât fuck it up. Â
Samâs nerves dissipate for a second as he rolls on top of you. The kiss changes. The sweetness and uncertainty still lingers, but itâs shifting into something more messy, more sure, more desperate. His legs bracket yours; his left pressed firm between your thighs and his right on the outer side of your left.Â
Your left hand replaces your right in his hair as you move it to Samâs shoulder, clutching at his flexing muscles as Samâs left hand starts kneading the flesh of your waist. His thumb is rubbing deeply into the side of your navel.
He doesnât ever want to stop touching you.
Both of you are panting into each otherâs mouths. Each kiss is searing, your teeth nipping his lips. Your bodies meet with every roll, stroking the fire blazing between you. When Sam delivers a particularly deep grind into your hips and core that makes you gasp, your back arches. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip in the next kiss.
Sam pulls back, just a little, his forehand dropping to yours. Your chests are both heaving. âYou are so beautiful.â
It makes you roll your eyes, grinning, âShut up and keep kissing me.â He smiles and leans back in.Â
This is not the time to say âI love you.â He decides to show you, though, by doing the next closet thing to it.
He inhales. âCan IâŚcan I keep going?â, he sheepishly asks against your lips, beginning to slide his left hand down to the side of your hip, pausing, then down to the top of your thigh thatâs just covered by your shorts. Your panting fans his face.
âPlease.â Your mouth moves down to his neck, biting and leaving hot open-mouthed kisses along his damp skin. âTake whatever you want from me.â His breath stutters, eyes darkening. Thereâs no uncertainty, now. Itâs all primal.Â
Sam grabs your jaw with his right hand, pulling you back up into a long, deep, and passionate kiss. Then his mouth begins to trail down your body.Â
He feels feverish. You want him. You want him.Â
The way youâre laying in front of him, eyes sparkling with dilated pupils, smiling at him like you love him. Could you love him? God, he doesnât know what to think. Or how to. He just knows what he wants.Â
âI want to make you feel good,â he groans your name into your clothed sternum. He hears your breath hitch, breasts rising to bump his face. Mental note: come back here afterwards.Â
Sam moves to kneel between your legs and continues kissing down your torso, âIâve thought about how youâd look under meâ, he hums on your right rib set, both hands now positioned at the top of your thighbones gripping the flesh, âhow soft youâd be â, he lifts up a section of your shirt, making your breathing quick and shallow, âhow youâd feel against meâ, he bites and sucks at this newly exposed spot to the right of your navel, âhow youâd sound if I got to touch you like this.â A low moan falls from your mouth, head lulling backwards into the pillow, hips rolling into his face. He huffs, smirking.Â
Samâs face pauses at your lower waist; his nose is sitting against your shortâs waistband and his mouth ghosts the middle space below your hips. His jaw clenches, closing his eyes briefly as his breath stutters again. Two thin layers separate him from where he so desperately wants to be. Fuck, heâs wanted to do this to you - for you - for what seems like an eternity. He pushes his forehead down into you slightly to centre himself. Donât cum yet donât cum yet.Â
You call his name at his lack of movement. Itâs so needy. It makes him salivate.Â
âSorry, sweetheart,â he whispers. Heâs never called you that. At least not while youâre awake. You donât seem to tense or flinch, so he thinks itâs okay. He hopes he can call you it again tomorrow.
Samâs hands slide back up along the outside of your thighs to your waistband, making you shiver. His fingertips rest on your waistband and he looks up at you, dark and hooded eyes boring into yours; heâs giving you one last chance to back out. You smile softly at him and lift your hips eagerly so that he can ease your shorts down.
He swallows, and gently guides your sleep shorts down your hips, then your thighs, your calves, and then your feet.Â
Just one thin layer now.Â
Sam can already see your arousal soaking through your underwear. Oh fuck. A wrecked groan rumbles in his chest, his hips rolling into the mattress.Â
God, the sight of you. Maybe he should just bury his face in your pussy now, underwear still clinging to you, and make you cum like that. He doesnât want to tease you like that tonight, though. Maybe next time.
His hands, planted on your thigh bones, grip the newfound flesh. You feel just as soft and warm as he had imagined. Goosebumps from your skin prickle under his palm and fingers. His cock twitches against his sleep shorts, and the restriction makes him muffle another groan.Â
âChrist,â he purrs, kissing the top left corner of your underwear, âlook how wet you are,â he moves to kiss the right side.Â
You sigh breathlessly, reaching for Samâs left hand to caress it, âItâs all for you, Sammy.â He hums in satisfaction at your words.Â
Okay, okay, he thinks to himself. Focus, Sam.Â
Both hands grab the elastic of your underwear to roll down your body. The scent of your arousal hits him almost instantly and he parts his mouth, panting. His nostrils flare - you smell so sweet. Itâs enough to thicken the fire blazing inside him, especially his cock. Drool is pooling in his mouth.Â
Sam can hear you above him, whining slightly at the air change near your core. Sounding just as desperate for this as he is.Â
He moves both his right index and middle fingers along your mound, mesmerised at the way your body shudders and hips buck at his touch. He pauses just above your clit before shakily running his fingers through your folds, down to your opening. A sharp gasp falls from your mouth and your brows scrunch, back arching away from the mattress.
Fucking hell you feel like heaven itself. The heat and wetness from your folds makes Sam lose awareness of his surroundings for a second. All his senses are focused on you. He feels like heâs on fire; blood pulsing hotly through his veins, each breath rushing through his chest like a dry wind sparking embers.
He pulls his fingers away, eliciting an instinctive whimper from you, your hips lifting off the bed.
Sam stares at his fingers, dumbstruck - he was glistening with your arousal in the moon light. He brings his fingers to his lips with a shaky exhale before putting them in his mouth. A low and broken moan escapes his chest as he sucks them, his tongue swirling his fingers, eyes fluttering shut like he was tasting and committing to memory something seraphic. It makes him want to cum right there.Â
âIâm gonna make a mess,â Sam moans your name hoarsely, his voice laced with both awe and heated reverence. âYou taste so fucking good.â
Your chest is rising and falling rapidly with each second that passes with Samâs face sitting right by your heat. Your eyes are locked with his, pupils blown wide out. Your mouth is gaping in desperation. He feels feral. Hungry.
Sam guides your legs to sit over his shoulders. Both of you shuffle slightly to get comfortable - he wants you both to be here for a long time.Â
His hands move to hold both your thighs so that they rest against his face. He drops his eyes from yours to stare at your core - arousal glistening across your folds and dripping down onto the mattress - and it stirs something possessive in him.
Sam lowers his head to your slit and breathes you in, nose brushing your slick warmth as he exhales a groan so low and guttural it rattles through your bones.Â
Heâs changed his mind. This was definitely his new favourite view.Â
He starts slow, careful - Sam kisses the soft part of the inside of your left thigh, echoing on your right, before the tip of his tongue enters your sweet slit and slides down.
Dear God. The taste and scent of your core floods his mouth and nostrils. Your left hand flies from the side of you to cover your mouth, eyelids fluttering. You both whimper needily at the sensations; you into your hot palm and Sam into your heat.
But when he licks a long wet stripe from the bottom of your folds to your clit so slowly that your hips buck and a pornographic moan shatters from your lungs, Sammy canât help himself.
You were just so responsive to him.Â
He does it again. Slow, thick, dragging. His tongue flattens and moves down and up the length of your folds, collecting everything - spit, slick, and heat. He groans, deep and rough, as he buries his face further into you like heâs starving.
Sam extends his tongue to lap at you, kitten licking and slurping at your slit, encouraging you to give him more of your slick wetness. Your body twitches at every roll of his tongue, every suck of his mouth. Samâs eyes roll to the back of his head, his brows scrunching and curving in sheer desire, indulgence, and love.
He couldnât see anything else outside of you. You were fisting the sheets, hips twisting and legs flexing.
âGod, yes, Sammy, right there, right there, Sammy, fuck.â You cry quietly, grinding down against his face, âYouâre so good, youâre doing so good, Sammy, donât stop, please donât stopâŚâ
Sam ruts into the bed like an animal, fucking himself against the mattress. He can feel his rock hard cock pulsing and leaking with precum.
âKeep talking,âhe begs weakly, voice muffled against your core, spit and arousal dripping down his chin, âTell meâŚtell me how good it feels. I need to know Iâm making you feel good, sweetheart, please.â
Fuck he hopes youâll let him do this again.Â
Samâs tempo increases as his tongue begins circling your clit, lightly sucking it to draw you deeper into his mouth. His nose is pressed firmly into you - he wants to suffocate on you.
Loose curls fall onto Samâs forehead, dampened by a mixture of his sweat and your sweet arousal coating his face as you grind into him and he buries himself in you.Â
Neither of you can stop moaning.
His fingers are gripped hotly and tightly on the flesh of your soft thighs. He means to be gentle but heâs too desperate for you, and he knows there will be purple bruises there in the morning. Heâll kiss them tomorrow to say sorry if you let him.
Samâs head moves with every roll and turn of your hips so that his mouth stays attached to your clit and folds. Listening to your breathing and feeling how your body moves, heâs learning that you really like when he licks the left side of your folds and rub his nose on your clit. Your mouth falls slack when he does that.Â
He kisses sloppily and hungrily up and down your heat, wetness smeared across his face and nose. His tongue slips down to your entrance to work inside you. A sharp, high-pitched moan falls from your lips. If you sound like this when heâs eating you out, he canât wait to hear you when you cum.
âSammy, Iâm-Iâm gonnaâŚâ you breathe out, too flushed from the building pleasure to finish your sentence. He feels your body tense and moans at your movements. You were going to fall apart in front of him. God, he was about to do it. He was about to make you cum. He shoves his face further into your heat.Â
âPlease, sweetheart,âhe growls against you, vibrating through your wetness, âplease cum for me.â
Your back arches off the bed, hands fisting Samâs hair in pure ecstasy. âSamâŚâ you moan, uncontrollably, body shuddering. You take a loud inhale, mouth wide open andâŚ.
A hot wet flush spurts around Samâs groin, jerking him awake.
âFuck!â He swears quietly to himself.
His hips roll once, then still. Heâs panting harshly as his eyes fly open. Itâs pitch black. He canât see anything. He pauses for a beat while his eyes adjust to the darkness. He can hear the ceiling fan still whirring above.
Did I just have a fucking wet dream?Â
Yes. Yes he did.
Sam groans quietly to himself, scrunching his brow in embarrassment and disappointment in himself.
That was stupid, Sam, stupid, he bullies himself.Â
Sam lifts himself onto his forearms, sweat dripping down his body onto the bed. When did I fall asleep? He turns his head to the left towards the window - to you - to see if you were awake, or even there. You are.
He can just see how your lips are parted slightly, nostrils moving lightly as you inhale and exhale soft breaths. Youâre still asleep.
Jesus Christ.
The sheet is still covering both of you, but youâre curled towards him in a foetal position. Your right arm is outstretched, hand resting sweetly next to his pillow. It must have been quite close to his faceâŚ
Sam carefully slides his right leg out from under the covers and onto the floor first, then his other leg, as he gets out of the bed slowly so he doesnât disturb you. God knows this would be the absolute worst time for you to wake up and see him like this.Â
The moving air current from the fan hits him like a winterâs gale, making him shiver.Â
He wobbles past Deanâs bed, who is deep in sleep and (of course) starfished across the mattress. Reaching for the bathroom door, Sam grabs the handle and turns it cautiously to open the door. He flails briefly for the bathroom light switch, finding it, then softly clicks the door shut behind him before turning it on.
Sam leans against the door, back pressed firm against the cold wooden frame and head repeatedly hitting it faintly.Â
dean winchester x bestfriend!reader
â summary: unable to sleep from the cold, dean promises to keep you warm, one way or another, like the gentleman he is, but the cold happens to extract much more from both of you than anticipated.
â content warnings: sexual tension, intimacy, emotional vulnerability, dangerously sexy and adorable dean winchester
â word count: 2.8k â genre: fluff / suggestive
â author's note: the mutual pining is strong with this one! i love love love how this turned out, and i hope you guys do too!
p.s., sorry for not writing recently, i've been sick and so so busy. take this post as my sincerest apology!
the motel room fostered a chill that no amount of blankets or thick layers could chase away. the shoddy heater beneath the window with the edges frosted over sputtered out dust when it breathed, and occasionally death-rattled when it tried to kick into any temperature above sixty seven degrees.
even through the drawn blackout curtains, a thin gap revealed the parking lot. dim lighting from lamp posts and the flickering lantern hung beside the front door revealed the rock salt scattered over the asphalt and the sheer layer of ice glazing the main road that ran through the town.
the ice storm pressed hard against the walls. sometimes, the patter of freezing rain on the roof would jolt you awake, ripping a small gasp from your throatâbecause, when you weren't entirely stripped with exhaustion, every other noise would wake youâand you would instinctively reach for the knife on the nightstand.
but now, the rain ceded, and silence pressed you harder than the cold did.
"god, 's freezin' in here," you managed to whisper through your clenched jaw as you tugged the covers impossibly closer. even through your old hoodieâwhich used to belong to someone whose name you don't bother to rememberâyou could feel goosebumps prickling your arms. your hands, cupped over your mouth as you blow warm air into them, were numb and pale.
oh, the things you wouldn't do to stay decently warm.
"well, the offer still stands," dean's voice resounded from the other creaky motel mattress, the smug grin ghosting over his lips practically audible, "you could always warm up with me."
a light scoff scratched your throat as you kept your back faced to him. "you're gross."
"that's not what i meant," he enunciated the 't,' and you graciously decided to let him continue. "just thought that we would keep each other warmâbody heat."
you paused. "still sounds perverted coming from you, of all people."
he scoffed. "really?"
"yeah. and 'm not comin' over there. i can't even feel my legs anymore." the last sentence was only half of a joke as you cringed, tightening your jaw again as you locked your hands into prayer before desperately rubbing them together.
a breath of a laugh escaped dean's chest. a beat of a moment passed before anyone pierced the silence again.
dean caved first, a groan rumbling from his chest that made you stir. you heard him slide off the mattress, the box spring wailing, as he crossed the short distance between you two. you propped yourself onto your forearms, lips parted as you rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand, watching.
before you could begin to protest, he nudged you gently, hand on your shoulder, his eyes droopy and blinking slow as he mumbled a quick, quiet "move over." not demanding, just effortless.
so, of course you shuffle over, using all your remaining stamina. the cold once harboring in the absent spot is harsh against your skin, like teeth grating down your spine. the hair on your arms stood up, and a sound of defiance left you.
dean settles in haphazardly, bumping into you with equal amounts of blindness that was perfectly dean winchester. you grunted and shot daggers over your shoulder, eyes raking him over as he adjusted. but as he did, you instantly recognized howâ
"god, you're so warm," you gushed quietly, tentatively inching closer while leaving a thin gap between you. he felt like sitting in front of a crackling fireplace, and your eyes fluttered shut as the heat began to embrace you, chasing your goosebumps away.
"and you're freezing," dean remarked, chest rumbling with chuckle that shook the bed, "c'mere." with that, dean manhandled you, pulling you closer by your midsection and taut against him. you hissed through your teeth at his touch: his fingers were freezing, but he quickly retracted them once your bodies were pressed together.
you were close enough that the tip of your nose grazed dean's cheek and the soft material of your sweatpants glided across his when your legs brushed. the only thing you were unsure of was where to put your handsâusually, they lay in front of your face, but that wasn't an option now. instead, you tucked one hand into the pocket of your hoodie, and the other tucked beneath your head.
then, another thought at the forefront of your mind: this was the most intimate you two had ever been together, besides those moments where you stitched each other up after a hunt, or sat side-by-side in a diner booth and dean would courteously let you steal his bacon or sausage from his plateâsomething he'd never allow for anybody else.
so, yeah. maybe you did have the slightest, tiniest, smudge of a crush on your best friendâjust a little. nothing serious... right?
dean shifted ever so slightly, resting his chin atop your head, essentially escorting your face into the crook of his neck, warming your nose and lips effortlessly.
you didn't mind the proximity as much as you thought you'd might. instead, you liked it better this way. maybe dean did know a thing or two about stayingâ
"you warmin' up yet, sweetheart?" his deep, gentle voice makes your skull rattle in your head and your heart thrust against your ribcage like a wild animal. you sucked in a quick breath, effectively inhaling the scent of amber and leather, as you ushered out a response, trying not to focus on how good he smells, or how his muscles seem perfectly carved out for you to slot into.
"a bit," you breathed, "are you?" wordlessly, you shuffled closer, seeking more insulation and comfort. he responded with the same kindness, his hand on your waist tugging you nearer like you weighed nothing.
"warmer than i was when you left me cold and alone," he teased, and you could literally feel the small smile sprawl on his lips as it pressed into your hair. you mentally rolled your eyes, and dean must've sensed it because a light chortle made his whole body tremble.
his voice probed again, "think we'll survive the night?"
"maybe," you tiredly murmured, and a weary breath escaped dean's lips.
"we'll be just fine," he assured, his hand comfortingly running up and down the canyon of your back.
despite how much exhaustion clung to you like a second skin, the cold still rattled you awake. your mind raced, one thought after the other, and your muscles ached for a good night's rest and a swig of whisky to speed up the process. the idea of how vulnerable you were being with dean wasn't helping, either.
but you told yourself it was strictly for survival. wasn't it? it's why when you asked dean if you could start invading his spaceâbut not those exact wordsâhe answered with "i said i'd keep you warm, didn't i?" in his smooth tone. it's why you two were currently chest-to-chest with your legs intertwined. it's why, when you eventually rolled back over, dean's chest was flush with your back and his arm lazily hung over your waistâfor warmth, of course.
but none of those excuses soothed your mind.
"dean?" you started, your voice a question and breath that tread the air lightly. he hummed in acknowledgement, slightly shifting in place. it was a sleepy hmmm?, yet it held no immediate signs of falling asleep, so you continued.
"thank you."
another short hum. "you don't gotta thank me."
"but i should."
dean's hand loosely laying over your stomach twitched. his knuckles gently brushed the midriff where your hoodie rode up. his fingers were electrifyingly cold, but you didn't push them away. instead, they grazed against your skin in soothing, slow caresses that made your eyes flutter shut and shock your nerves.
"'m just doin' what any decent guy would, sweetheart." dean mumbled against the shell of your ear, a chill tracing your spine from the timbre in his voice. you swallowed, hard, and you felt immobilized in a way that wasn't half bad. instead, you sucked in a long, shaky breath as your mind simultaneously short-circuited and rambled on.
"no... no decent guy would do this for someone." your voice was just below a whisper, but the room was quiet enough that it echoed off the bare walls. "'s much more than bein' decent."
and you only know this because dean was so much more than a decent guy. he was your hunting partner that patched you up when you were bloodied and half-indecent. he was your best friend that ate junk food with you in the impala when nobody was looking. if you were in the bathroom, he'd order your food for you because he had your favorite meals memorized by heart. he was the person you were honest to and spoke your mind with. he was the man who'd carry you to bed if you fell asleep in an uncomfortable chair. he was the one who tucked your hair behind your ear and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead afterward.
"so what am i, then?" his voice matched yours: whispering, like it was a secret just between you two.
"you're..." you paused. how could you articulate that? the feeling deep in your gut, the knowledge lodged in your mind with no equal translation in any spoken language? and how could you confess something like that to one of the closest people you have left?
"you're... you, y'know? 's what makes you special, dean. you're..." and you can't find a better substitute for the word that falls from your lips next, "perfect."
dean's breathing hitched in his chest, and so did yours. you braced yourself, waiting for... what? something. anything. regardless, you could hear your heart faintly throb in your ears as you counted the seconds of uninterrupted silence. one... two... three... four...
"say that again," dean pleaded, voice hoarse, his plush lips still pressed against your ear before drifting and dragging across your neck.
dean could smell your shampoo that made your hair shiny and soft, the scent of cheap vanilla-sandalwood perfume that he loved wafting from your pulse points, and couldn't hurdle over the addicting fact that it was all you. right beside him. not some girl in a magazine or at a bar that he assumed he'd end up with. you. your words echoed in his mind, over and over, consuming his thoughts.
perfect.
his calloused fingers continued their journey along the stretch of your stomach, the tips of them skimming your skin with feather-light touch, riding your sweater higher up. his breath was warm and his voice made you stiffen, "i need to hear you say that again. please..."
you were stunned, hesitant to move your lips or even subtly shift in place. somehow, you found the courage to flip over and face him, your faces just inches apart as your breath intermingled. your eyes immediately found hisâwide, intimate, dark. dean wasted no time sneaking his hand back onto your waist. you sucked in a shaky breath and your tongue darted out to wet your lips, heart thundering in your chest like a million drums.
"you're perfect, dean. so damn perâ"
before you could even finish, dean's lips were on yours. it was gentle: his plush lips desperate to meet yours in a warm greeting. a quiet squeal of surprise died in the back of your throat, but this time, your body didn't freeze or hesitate. you kissed him back with the same rawness, something hot blooming in your stomach.
your body instinctively pressed against the wall that was dean, your hand eagerly finding the side of his face and angling him just right to slot his lips perfectly between yours. a low growl pulled from dean's throat that spurred you on, enticing you to tangle your other hand in his hair, tugging him impossibly closer. dean did the same, instead fisting your hair and tangling his fingers in your locks, eliciting a purr. his other hand went to your lower back, shifting and bumping your hips against his, closing any room between you.
the first kiss was tender, a desperate plea of affirmation and invitation. dean's lips were so soft and waxy like lip balm, making yours just glide against him. then the kiss got messier, full of teeth carefully nipping and saliva pooling as dean's tongue sought out yours in a way that made you press your thighs together and made your brain foggy.
dean rolled you over, your back pressed into the mattress, his body hovering over yours. your lips separated for a second, but when they reconnected? dean's mouth moved feverishly, heatedly, in a way you liked more than you'd admitâif your unabashed moan went unnoticed. his hands went to your waist, grounding you and bruising in the process. your hands found his shoulders, claiming purchase there as your nails dug crescents into his skin.
"de-dean,"
"need youâ" he gasped, head spinning on his shoulders. his hips involuntarily bucked into yours, drawing out a soft huff from your mouth that drove him feral as his fingers tightened their hold on you. he pulled away slightly, a shudder wracking through him, and a deep breath inflating his chest as he murmured, "christ, sweetheart."
you paused, a thin string of spit connecting your lips snapping as you hesitantly pulled away, gazing up at him warily. your eyes traced over each memorized freckle, mole, and scar littering his face and neck, your brows vaguely pulling together. "was it too much? 'm sorry, iâ"
"no, no. not that, 's just..." he trailed off, swallowing as his eyes flickered to capture yours. you felt like slipping into a black voidâhot and embarrassed. you swallowed hard as you anticipated what he was going to say next, waiting for him to dismiss your presence, your touch, or even a flicker of your gaze.
but he didn't.
because dean's more than decent.
dean's the one you come to for everything. he's the one who hugs you tighter, who brushes your hair and braids it when you give him your pouty eyes, who brews you a cup of coffee in the morning and adds the exact amount of sweetener that you like. he calls you when you're running late just to make sure you're okay.
"just thinkin'..."
"about?" you probe, your voice faltering. a shy, pink blush creeps over your cheeks as you bite the inside of your cheek, your hands relaxing and palms massaging his shoulders ever-so-gently. his gaze is strong. too strong, like he can see every imperfection in your face.
but then there was a shift in the air, a change of energy, when he answered. "you." his admission is barely above a whisper. you blinked at him, mind muddled as you waited for him to spell it out. a soft huff came out of his nose as his swollen lips parted open.
"you just... i can't stop thinkin' about you. ever." his breath hitches in your chest, and you're pretty sure you died awhile ago.
"you're so good to me, so... beautiful, and helluva partner..."
okay, so you were dreaming. surely, this was all your mind's twisted, sick work. but the pulse in your ears? the taste of cinnamon that lingered on your lips that wasn't there earlier?
your mind took a moment to catch up, but your hands were already there, reaching to cup his face in your palms, feeling the smooth skin and rigid jaw in your hands like delicate porcelain. you caught your bottom lip between your teeth as you shamelessly stared at his big, pretty eyes that watched you like you were mans last gift to earth.
and dean? his face was softening, his stomach churning as he came to the realization of what this was: a confession. he was so damn smitten, and the way you watched him only fanned the flames of yearning more than ever. his eyes traced your features one last time before his head dipped down, lips hovering over yours.
"i love you," then, just a beat of a second later,"'m so in love with you. have been since i first met you."
you felt your heart lurch into your throat at his words. you opened your mouth, but nothing came out, besides the soft crackle of your voice and an airy "de." but you did manage to do one thing:
"i love you, too. i think i always have,"
the second that left your lips, dean pressed his lips back against yours. it was feverish, heated, as much as it was passionate and an admission of want. his hands, calloused and scarred, slipped under your sweater, spanning across the broad plane of bare skin. you shivered at his touch, a light moan falling from your lips that dean opportunistically stole away from you.
"sorry, sweetheart," he mumbled, tongue running across your lip, mouth everywhere: pressing hot kisses to your jaw, muffled grunts against your neck that made you impatiently claw at his head of hair.
"'m gonna keep you warm, i promise."
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đŻđ testing times || sam winchester x fem!reader đŻđ
âś warnings: HEAVY smut (18+), dirty talking, slight dom!sam, unprotected p in v (cloak the joker before you poke her), exhibitionism if you squint, established relationship, fluffy ending
âś summary: a never-ending week long hunt and a shared motel room with the winchester brothers makes you test poor sam's self-control, but you might not be in as much control as you think...
âś word count: 3.4k (i'm so sorry, this was meant to be short)
Samâs left hand flew to cover your mouth as his tip hit that deep spot that made your insides go hot and gooey. His hand was sweaty against your mouth as he tried to stifle your moans with each deep thrust of his hips.
Normally, the younger Winchester brother would take care of you in a bed cushioned by soft pillows and blankets, where youâd be warm, alone, and allowed (read: encouraged) to make as much noise as you both wanted. That was his favourite setting. But you were a week into a hunt with no end in sight, and youâd been particularly needy (and mean) today, teasing Sam by grazing your hand across his chest and biceps, bending over in front of him a lot, and saying his name in a particular way that you knew got him hard and just as desperate as you were.
Sam, usually the king of self-restraint, finally cracked when you announced later that night that you were going outside to get your phone charger and walked past the brothers seated at the little wooden table in the two bedroom motel room - Sam typing away on the computer and Dean busily reading a book the size of an encyclopedia on possible monsters that could remove the bones from a body without cutting the skin. Youâd leant down to kiss Sam on the cheek (so that Dean wouldnât hear a thing) and whispered in his ear about the wet dream youâd had last night where you could feel his cock pulsing deep in your throat as you sucked him off on your knees in the bunker library.
Heâd stiffened as soon as he heard you walking towards him, attempting to brace for whichever way you were about to torment him, but nothing couldâve prepared him for the absolute filth that came from your mouth while his brother was seated only across the table. When you had leant down and whispered in Samâs ear, his jaw and cock twitched with a sharp breath intake. Smirking at his noticeable reaction, you promptly walked away with a little swing in your hips and out the door. Samâs eyes darted to his brother to see if heâd heard your dirty mouth, but Dean seemed too absorbed in the book in front of him, tapping the pen he held in his left hand back and forth while his tongue poked slightly out.
Sam waited a beat after the door clicked shut before accidentally closing the laptop a little too hard, getting up (while trying to cover his obvious hard-on), and walking out after you. He stormed towards the Impala as you grabbed the cold car door handle to open the backseat and reach in for your charger. Before you could even fully open it, Sam reached you and slammed the door shut, spinning you around so that you were facing him.
âSammyâŚâ you drawled, giving him your best puppy eyes as he pressed you firm against the door, making sure you knew damn well how hard he was. His left hand was pushed against the doorframe by your shoulder and his right hand grabbed your waist, kneading the flesh on your hip. His brow was firmly locked as he stared darkly into your face. He was so close that his cologne filled your nose and throat, a heated mixture of cypress and grapevine that went straight to your core. You wanted to lick him.
âSammy,â you repeated with a head tilt, âare you okay?â You snaked your hands around the back of his neck, running your fingers through his hair. It was really soft. âYou look like somethingâs bothering you.â A tug on the hair at the nape of his neck made his face falter and jaw clench - you couldnât hide your growing smirk at his reaction. Sam regained some semblance of self-control and stared at you like he was thinking something over, which he was - he was debating whether he should risk just bending you over the hood of the Impala and railing you with your ankles above your head where anyone could walk out and see you both. But Sam was mostly a gentleman, so without so much as a word, he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the back of the motel where neither passing car headlights from the road nor the motelâs streetlights reached.
His hot hands firmly guided your hips into the wall, your skin prickling at the sensation as your head bumped into the cold bricks. You shivered as he stood flush against you, both of you breathing heavily and quickly. Heated breaths floated in the small space between the two of you, moonlit in the cold winter night. You looked up at Sam, feeling a little nervous after seeing the look in his eyes. Maybe you had pushed him a little too far this timeâŚ
He chuckled gruffly as he said your name, âI feel like I could eat you right now.â Heat rushed to your face as his forearm moved to rest by the right side of your face, his other hand resuming the kneading of the flesh on your hips. You felt a gush fall from your insides and instinctively rolled your hips into him. Sam closed his eyes and groaned at the movement. âYou,â he dipped his face and ghosted his lips over your neck, âare such a fucking tease.â His breath was hot against your skin, making you squirm. You let out a shaky breath and gripped the front of his hoodie, squeezing your legs together to relieve the heat glowing between your thighs. His closeness and scent made your head spin.
A whine escaped your chest as Sam moved his left hand to grab the side of your jaw and bite your neck. âI have no idea what youâre talking about, Sammy,â you responded with what little confidence you had left. Sam laughed meanly against your neck, pressing his right knee in between your legs and pinning them apart. Your hips bucked at his roughness, your head rolling upwards to the night sky. âDonât try to act clueless now, babyâ. His right hand lifted your shirt slightly, his touch burning across your bare skin as he began slowly trailing across your hips to your navel, before moving even slower down to your heat. âIâm giving you exactly what you wanted.â
His fingertips unbuttoned your jeans and pulled down the zipper. Your breathing hitched at the metal sound. âTell me Iâm wrong.â You could feel his fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear, the cold temperature hitting your core and making your fingertips tingle. Samâs face moved steadily away from your neck to gaze at your face, pulling your jaw down from the sky to look at him. âYou talked a lot of game today.â His tone was silky but his pupils were blown wide, thumb dragging against your bottom lip. âLetâs see if you can play.â
You were so fucked.
When Sam finally kissed you, you almost started sobbing. The kiss was deep, hungry, and messy - his lips warm but bruising and rough against yours. Hands were desperately grabbing at clothing and skin. You both moaned at the otherâs touch after the long buildup of the day. His knees moved to cage you as his tongue pushed into your mouth; it was hot, heavy, dominating, and frustrated. He tasted like mint and warm brown sugar.
Gasps reverberated off the motelâs brick wall, neither of you wanting to breathe unless it was the air from the otherâs lungs. Samâs hips rolled into your arched body, his hard cock pressing deep into your barely clothed core through his jeans, pulling broken whimpers from both of you. You felt like you were ascending to some place higher than heaven, Samâs pulsing body the only thing capable of keeping you grounded. Your hands pushed back on his waist, making him groan at the loss of contact between your lips - a string of saliva between your mouths - as you began dropping to your knees. He lunged at you, grabbing your wrists before your knees touched the grassy earth and pulling you back up. Your wrists were pinned firmly against your chest by his left hand and he tutted. âAs much as I want my cock down your throat, sweetheart, we can act out your dream when we get home. Right now, though,â he looked down hungrily at your heat, âI need to be inside you.â
You were panting when Samâs gaze returned to your face. His eyes were practically black - he looked possessed, the whites of his eyes shining ever so slightly like a halo. His right hand returned to the waistband of your underwear, jeans still sitting open on your hips. Your hands twitched, hips bucking into him as his index and middle fingers ghosted your clit, dragging slowly down to your entrance. âGod, youâre so wet,â he crooned, his forehead rested against yours. Your jaw went slack as he touched you through your soaked underwear, his fingers rubbing up and down your slit so calculatedly it made your knees buckle. âSammyâŚâ you moaned, staring up at him with desperate and glassy eyes, and he leant down to cover your mouth with his.
He slipped his two long fingers past your underwear and into your heat, eliciting a pornographic cry from your chest Sam stifled with his tongue. He chuckled at your reaction - you were always so receptive for him and it made him feel like a king (and extremely bricked). He kissed you deeper, getting off on the sensation of your dripping heat clenching around his fingers. He gave you two blissful thrusts of his fingers before quickly withdrawing them, making you whine and your eyebrows scrunch at his movement.
âThatâs mean,â you warned breathlessly. Your arms were still pinned tight to your chest, and you were starting to feel a little powerless. Sam only made this worse when he brought his fingers glistening with your slick up to his mouth, pausing to make sure you were watching him, and sucked them clean. Your eyes went wide, a small pathetic sound left your lips at his action. âYouâre lucky Iâm letting you have my cock after the way you behaved today,â he drawled cruelly. âMaking me have to palm myself after youâŚâ Sam squeezed his brow and eyes shut, groaning and rocking his hips into the air at the memory of your relentless teasing during the day. He saw your smugness when he opened his eyes and cursed. âAnyway,â he continued hoarsely, his right hand sliding up and down the curve of your waist, âyouâre telling me you donât want my cock buried in your guts right now?â The smirk instantly fell from your face at his words. He saw it. âMmm, thatâs what I thought, sweetheart.â
He released your arms from your chest as his hands flew to grip and guide your jaw in a passionate and sloppy kiss. You both rolled your hips into each other before his hands feverishly grabbed at your jeans to pull them down. Your now freed hands moved just as desperately to unbutton his jeans and drag down his boxers.
Kissing down to suck on his slacking jaw, you briefly palmed his cock with one hand and cupped his balls with the other through his underwear to tease him, wanting to feel him throb and make him whimper (which he did). He whined your name in a warning before you pulled down his boxers to let them pool at his ankles with his jeans. Sam was quite the sight to see - his thick and slightly angled cock pulsed with each inhale, precum dripped sweetly from his rounded tip. The white full-moon in the night sky made it shine and sent heat straight to your gut.
You shimmied out of your baggy jeans and quickly removed your drenched underwear. When you stood back up, he again pressed you flush to the brick wall, fisting his cock in his right hand before running it through your slick folds. Both of you groaned. Panting and feeling like your body was about to ignite, you turned around and pushed out your ass. Sam smirked at the scene, âSo thatâs how you want this to go?â His body moved to shape perfectly to yours, his left hand falling to your hip while his right traced a soft circle on the nape of your neck. You gave him a sly smile over your right shoulder before turning your head to kiss him.
âYes, please.â You hummed sweetly.
âAnything for you.â
When Samâs cock slid inside you, you both moaned explicitly into each otherâs mouths. âOh, sweetheartâŚâ he groaned hotly next to your ear. You couldnât speak. Couldnât think or move. All you could do was let out a strangled sound of pleasure and neediness. You knew exactly how pathetic you sounded, but you couldnât care less. You were exactly where you wanted to be - pinned to Samâs muscular chest radiating heat, gasping on the tips of your toes with his cock buried deep in your heat, and his hips pressed roughly against your ass. His hungry thrusts into your core started a couple seconds after he bottomed out, grunting in your ear about how soft and warm you were and how pretty you sounded. His movements were sharp, a little punishing to tell you he was the one in control (was he really, though?). Drool dribbled from your mouth down your jaw, every roll of Samâs hips raising another broken whimper out of you. Sam wasnât any quieter.
He licked a stripe from your collarbone up to your ear, making you pulse around his cock. He felt it.
So that was how you ended up in this rather compromising position. Your forearms were pressed against the cold bricks, your head dipped between your arms like you were deep in prayer, possibly asking for forgiveness from the man absolutely drilling into you from behind. Your mind was completely numb from pure pleasure and bliss, tears burning hot in your eyes. Samâs cock hit that gooey spot again, making you moan so loud despite his hand still gripping your mouth that your throat hurt and your eyes rolled so far back into your skull you saw stars. âShhhhh, babyâ, he groaned in your ear as he kept thrusting, âIâll have to stop if you keep moaning like thatâ. But you and Sam both knew he wouldnât stop. Not until you were clenching around his cock, cumming hard and sweetly.
Your head felt so high you couldnât respond. Each stroke was more heated, more desperate, more feral than the last. Your legs were shaking violently with every slam of Samâs forceful hips as he continued to fuck you, your legs threatening to give way. He was so warm, so consuming behind you. Your skin was tingling with Samâs heavy grunting as he leaned into you, resting his forehead on your shoulder and pressing his chest firmly into your back. You felt a searing heat sparking in your core, the coil begging to snap. Sam could feel your breathing quicken against his hand. âYou close?â, he groaned your name lowly in your ear, âYeah you are.â
You try to moan Samâs name as tears start to burn down your cheeks, but heâd fucked all the air out of your lungs. All you could do was lift your head and let it roll back onto Sam. He moved his hand to the side of your mouth to let you take a quick small breath. âGo on babyâ, he grunted as his hand returned to cover your mouth, his thrusts quickening as you both feel your orgasm about to ruin you, âcum for me.â
Your body seized as you came, screaming into his hand, a hot gush pouring from deep within you as you clenched around Samâs cock. âGood girlâ. You could hear from his voice he was smirking so fucking proudly. âThatâs my good girl.â
You were so fucked out, heat spreading through your body to your fingertips as you started to go limp. Sam moved his left arm from your mouth, confident you would no longer alert the motel neighbours to your activities, to hug the front of your shoulders close to him. His thrusts became erratic as your orgasm quelled, and one particular falter of his hips told you he was about to cum. Sam was trying so hard to muffle his moans by biting your shoulder, but they kept slipping past and escaping into the dark night. âPlease, Sammy,â you whined, âplease cum inside me.â Samâs forehead and eyes squeezed shut as he stilled, a lewd sound ripping from his chest with his cock twitching as he came deep and desperate inside you. The white hot liquid made your insides sticky as he rode out his high with a couple slow grinds. Both of you stood there when he finished his movements, panting hotly into the cold air as you both tried to regain your breathing. He kissed the right side of your neck sweetly, his left hand rubbing your shoulder gently.
âI love youâ, you and Sam whisper in sync. Both of you laughed before Sam groans quietly and you wince at the sensation of your insides clenching around his semi-hard cock still buried in your core. He took a deep breath, âIâm gonna pull out, okay?â He quickly kissed your right cheek as he slowly left your warmth.
He took a few steps back, pulling out a couple tissues from his front pocket. You turn around and look at him, your eyes narrowing. âI promise theyâre clean,â he says, showing the plastic packaging for your approval. You nod and he bends down to your heat to carefully swipe away your collective mess. Once he finishes, Sam pulls up his jeans and quickly scans around for a bin - half-walking, half-sprinting to it once he spots it to dispose of the dirty tissues before returning to you as you button up your jeans.
He looked down into you, his left hand returning to hold the side of your jaw tenderly as he leans down to kiss you. It was soft and sweet - you melt a little into him. âI should tease you like that more often,â you grin into the kiss and giggle, giving his ass a smack. He raises his eyebrows in a challenge, amused. âYou, sweetheartâ, he returns your smile, âare going to be the death of me.â
Snaking your arm around his to hold onto his bicep, you walk back together to the motel room. You lean into him and sigh, his arm feeling strong and warm against your tired body, and his cologne embracing you like a gentle wind. As much as youâd enjoyed the last however many minutes outside, you really couldnât wait for a hot shower, and to cuddle and fall asleep with Sam in a warm bed.
Sam, ever the gentleman (I did say he was mostly one) opened the shared motel room door and motioned for you to enter first. You beamed up at him and ducked under his arm, walking into the room a little like a baby giraffe taking its first steps. He followed in behind you and closed the door, kissing the top of your head and giving you a quick squeeze as you look towards Dean who was still deep in focus and showing no sign of noticing either of you entering the room. As Sam locks the door, Dean huffs and shuts the book in front of him with a thud, âYou two get that charger?â Both you and Sam stilled, unsure if you should be looking at Dean or away from him.
âUmmmâŚâ you started.
âItâs alright, love bunniesâ. Dean coos, pushing his chair back lazily and standing up with a stretch. He makes no eye contact as he grabs a towel hung near the heater and walks past the both of you towards the bathroom. âNext time you guys want some alone timeâ, he pauses in the bathroom doorway and looks back at you and Sam with a fake smile, his head tilting, âjust fucking tell me.â
Dean closes the door, the sound of the shower starting in the next room over. You and Sam turn to each other, both a little flushed from embarrassment, before grinning at each other.
DEANY BABY i'm so sorry. promise i'll make it up to you in the next fic.
let me know if this was not filthy enough, it's been a little too long since i last wrote and i too feel like a baby giraffe taking its first steps.
âŚRead on a03!âŚ
âŚMasterlist - Dean MasterlistâŚ
âŚpairing: Dean Winchester x female!readerâŚ
âŚsummary: Friends with benefits means no claim. Dean can do what he wants, and so can you. But you don't. And when you start to, it makes Dean have a realization.âŚ
âŚwarnings/tags: friends with benefits, jealousy, angst, pining, shameless smut (blowjobs, Dean Winchester eating pussy like a madman, oversitmulation, p in v sex), no use of y/nâŚ
âŚauthor's note: Request from an anon! Dean is a yearner in every life. Enjoy!âŚ
You watch the sunlight float in through the windows, and hold your breath.Â
If you donât breathe, maybe you can trick this moment into lasting forever.Â
Time suspends, in the air with the swirling dust of the motel and the quiet birdsong outside. Little trills and caws, as the light gets more golden, and you just pretend. These sheets are soft because theyâre yours. This morning is light because thereâs no pressure, pushing down on your chest. You heard the birds, and youâll hear them tomorrow, and theyâre all just singing for you.Â
Dean is lying next to you, mouth hanging open and arm haphazardly thrown over your waistâsuch a light touch, like he knows he doesnât have to pull that hard to get you back to himânot because of last night, but because this is just where he belongs.Â
If you fall asleep again, heâll be there when you wake up. If you press your face into his chest, youâll hear his heartbeat without wondering ifâfor only a secondâitâs ever belonged to you. If you reached out to touch his face, heâd lean into it, and your hand wouldnât get swatted away with a stern glare.Â
Youâve never been brave enough, to just reach out and touch him. Not when heâs quiet and vulnerable like this, and as strong as Dean isâa mountain of a man, unmoving and towering over everything, even Samâyou still feel like you could break him. That your fingers would trace over the wrong line of his face, and heâd dissolve under your hands. Itâs something about how peaceful he looks. How his skin is little golden in the morning, and his hair seems to look softer and his lips get swollen with sleep.Â
No armor made of sharp words or imposing presence. Not heat radiating from him like the sun, drawing youâand everyone else, but mostly youâin like moths. No anger, or sadness, or pain engraved onto ever deeper shadow of his handsome features.Â
Itâs just Dean, lain bare at your side, and not yours to see at all.Â
You roll over and blink at the ceiling, watching it slowly lighten, and Deanâs hand flexes on your hip. He drags you a little closer, with a low grunt, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Itâs nothing. Itâs never anything, when his lips press to your neck and his rough, deliberate fingers dip slightly under your shirt to trace your spine. This would have to be something different, for it to be something. Youâd have to not have rails up, to block yourself from toppling over and bursting into tears every time he gives you that look, and you know youâre not sleeping alone.Â
Itâs always just a look.Â
Thatâs how it started. Just one, strange look from Dean one night at a bar, and then suddenly he was kissing you in an alleyway and hiking your leg up to rub his hand over your core.Â
âYou know that wasnât-â Heâd sighed your name the next morning, as youâd sat on the couch with your knees curled to your chest. âCan you look at me?â
Youâd nodded, and turn with a plastered smile, so well-crafted and fucking delicate just one word would have shattered it like China. âYeah.â
âI donât do relationships.â Dean had muttered, watching you carefully from the bed. His shirt had still been off, and it had only felt a little cruel. âYou know that, right?â
âI know.â Shorter answers had been better. Safer. Made it sound like you really didnât care at all.Â
Dean had fallen for it. Heâd nodded slowly, and never once looked like he doubted a word slipping out of your mouth.Â
âGood. But, while I got you here,â heâd giving you the charming, rogue, wouldnât it be easy to fall in love with me, but donât try to drive down this one-way road, grin, and your fingers had curled into fists in your lap.Â
Where he couldnât see them.Â
âYouâre clean. Iâm clean. Weâre pretty fuckinâ good at that,â heâd jerked his head back to the bed. âIâm willing to jump back in, whenever you need something scratched. Long as you scratch me back, yâknow. Thatâs the classic deal.â
It was the classic deal.
But youâd watched enough movies to know that the other part of the classic dealâthe one Dean seemed to have been leaving out, because he doesnât watch chick flicks so he doesnât know they can be cautionary talesâwas that it never ends well. Someone falls in love, and someone breaks the otherâs heart.Â
Youâd lied to yourself. Youâd said it would be different, because you were already in love with Dean, and heâs broken your heart in a million silent ways before. Itâs always glued itself back together, even if your hands have end up with jagged cults that sting when you try to touch someone else.Â
Itâs not different.Â
Dean still doesnât know he breaks your heart, with every single look of him needing you, but not wanting you. With every flirty comment at a witness, or joke with Sam about beinâ a lone wolf, Sammy, Iâll settle down when Iâm dead.Â
Or worse, the way he wonât treat you like only a hookup when heâs buried inside of you or laying between your legs, but doesnât even acknowledge that this happens once you leave the bed.Â
Itâs why youâre not moving now.Â
Itâs why you have those rails up. Dean can keep breaking your heart all he wants. He doesnât get to take anything else.Â
You donât make flirting comments back anymore, when he teases you. You walk behind him now, so you donât have to feel his stare. You donât pull away when he drags you to his chest in his sleep, but you donât hug him either. Not even outside of the motel rooms.
âYou okay, sweetheart?â Heâd asked you last night, a few hours before the look, and youâd smiled at him.Â
âIâm always okay. I was born okay.â Youâd turned away from him, and the low light had been hiding the tears in your eyes. Your voice hadnât had the same kind of loyalty. âIâm great.â
Dean had made a motion like he was going to reach for you. A lurching step, his hands flying out and face drawn with worry. Youâd taken the smallest pace back.Â
That had been all it took to make him give up.Â
Thatâs always all it takes.Â
And you didnât stop time. Eventually you have to pee, and you climb out of bed without looking back. Stare at yourself in the mirror, at the hickeys on your neck, and wonder if Dean will even remember putting them there after you cover them up.
It doesnât matter. It never matters.Â
Youâre almost done with the caseâjust a salt and burnâand by tomorrow youâll be back at the bunker. Where you seem to transform from something Dean looks at, to something he files into the same category as his brother.Â
Still important to him.Â
Probably less sexual than his fucking car.Â
âMorning, sunshine.â Dean says when you come back out of the bathroom, and youâre not sure how he got up so fast. âHave a nice piss?â
âThe best.â You mutter, and he holds out a cup of coffee for you.
âYou ready to kick ghost ass so we can get the hell out of here?â
You take the coffee and just hum, shuffling over to the table. Dean doesnât push you. He never pushes you, when itâs about anything but safety.
That would imply he cares where you end up.Â
âI think I know what we gotta do.â He tells you over breakfast, and you hum, spinning your fork in your hands. âFound the grave, ran it by Sammy, he says itâs the guy weâre looking for. We can head there this evening, so we donât get caught grave digging again. Spend the day just camping so no one else gets whammied by this son of a bitch.â
âOkay.â You poke at your pancakes, and Dean says your name with a tight frown.Â
âAre you feeling alright?â
You sigh. âI told you, Dean, Iâm fine-â
âYouâre not acting fine.â He grunts, narrowing his eyes. âYou didnât accuse me of messing up the last grave we dug.â
âDo you want me to?â
âNo, I just-â His fingers tap quickly on the table, and he shakes his head. âNever mind.â
You donât mind. You let it wash over you, and you walk behind Dean back to the car. For most of the stakeout, you keep your eyes closed so you can only hear the music.Â
But there are moments of weakness.Â
There are always moments of weakness.Â
âI fucking hate these pretzels.â You grumble, poking at the bag, and Dean chuckles.Â
âYou bought those, sweetheart, you got no one to blame but yourself.â
âI didnât mean to buy them.â You shoot him a glare. âYou couldâve stopped me.â
âAnd how the hell would I have stopped you?â
âBy reminding me that I hate these pretzels-â
âI did remind you,â he drawls your name, giving you an amused look. âI said hey, whenever you get those you end up just throwing them at my face and stealing my shit, put them back, and you ignored me.â
âOh.â You flush. âShut up.â
âThat doesnât sound like sorry- Fuck-â
You laugh as one of the pretzels hit his cheek, and Dean groans.
âFine. Iâm never lettinâ you get those again. Iâll tackle you next time.â
âYouâll tackle me?â You raise your brows, and he nods, drumming arrhythmically on the wheel.Â
âIâll jump you, sweetheart, donât test me.â He pauses. âThatâs not a challenge.â
You grin at him. âIt sounds like a challenge. I think Iâd win anyway?â
He snorts. âYou think youâd win if I tackled you?â
âIâd get away.â You shrug. âIâm slippery, like a seal. You wouldnât be able to get a grip, then Iâd just wiggle away.â
Dean makes a low sound, shifting in his seat, and shakes his head. âYouâd just wiggle away, huh.â
âYep. You wouldnât even know what happened.â You pause. âOr Iâd kick you in the balls.â
âChrist.â He mutters, lips twitching in the dark. âYou know I love it when you talk dirty, baby.âÂ
Shit. âAll for you, Winchester.â You pop another shitty pretzel into your mouth, playing it off. âI know it turns you on when I threaten you.â
He chuckles. âI think I just like fuckinâ the sass out of you.â He shoots you one of those looks, and you can resist this. You just have to stop flirting back, to keep the guards up, to remind yourself that the sex means nothing.Â
To him.Â
Never to youâto you, itâs the closest youâre ever going to get to the stratosphere, the only kind of heaven youâll be allowed to seeâbut to Dean. It means nothing.Â
âAnd youâve really succeeded into that so far.â You mutter, making your voice a little more bitter, a little more spiked, than you can manage to actually feel.
Dean just shrugs. âTakes some time, sweetheart. You got a big mouth, canât fill it up all at once.âÂ
Thereâs a slight pause as you try to figure out how to stab him back without the blade turning on you, but Dean clears his throat and breaks it first.
âAnd Iâm not gonna tackle you. Iâll just go in myself. Get you what you want, keep you away from the pretzels.â
âDean, you donât know what Iâd want-â
âYeah, I do.â He waves you off with a small grin, and thereâs the weakness. You can survive the electric, when he flirts. You canât survive the warmth, waving in the air between you, reminding you that he really does care. He knows what youâd want, because youâre more to him than just one night but not enough to just lean over and kiss him right now.Â
âFine.â You wrinkle your nose at him, looking away before he somehow sees it on your face. How your stupid heart is breaking again. âThanks.â
âNo problem.â He shrugs. âTry and toss them into my mouth.â
âDean-â
âYouâre not eating them, gotta prevent food waste or whatever.â He bumps your shoulders together. âCâmon.â
You roll your eyes, but turn and start to toss them into his mouth. And it hurts, with every giggle and small joke. It hurts that he can do this with you when your knees are only casually bumping, but not when heâs whispering filth in your ear.Â
But thatâs why you have the rails up. This is Dean, your friend, who throws M&Ms into your mouth and listens to you when you start to ramble about something dumb, after the snacks run out. Who jokes and teases you and makes you stand guard while youâre grave digging, instead of letting you help.
âLatest report,â you call down to him. âThereâs a fox up here. Itâs my new best friend.â
âWhat?â He looks up at you, and you grin. âWhatâs it got that I donât?â
âA tail.â
âI can grow a tail.â He shovels out another thing of dirt, and you giggle.
âCan you catch me squirrels?â
âI dunno. Probably. That all I gotta do to be number one again?â
âOh, Dean.â You give him a teasing pout. âYou were never number one.â
He groans. âSamâs the one who messed up your laundry, sweetheart, donât forget that-â
âSamâs not number one either.â
âWell, who the hell am I losing to then?â
âThe concept of time.â You hum, looking back up the graveyard, and Dean snorts.
âYeah, yeah, alright-â
âAll these creepy dead people? Theyâre my best friends.â
âThis one tried to kill you,â he drawls your name, and you can hear his smile. It pulls on your own.Â
âWe have a complicated relationship. She tries to kill me, I try to kill her, but at the end of the day? Best friends.â
Dean laughs again, the sound echoing through the night and making it warmer, and thereâs no way to freeze time here.Â
No way to freeze it ever.Â
He hops out of the grave, lights the bitch up, and looks at you with bright eyes in the light of the fire. With all the shadows and light, itâs sort of like he really is just a comet that crashed out of the sky, and right into your side. Youâre blinking at him a little too slow, before he looks away.Â
âYou want to make marshmallows?â You say, trying to lighten the taut, painful and hungry feeling in your chest, and Deanâs grin almost knocks you off your feet and right into the fire.Â
The heat canât be that much worse than what youâre feeling right now.Â
âNot on the dead body, but we can get some in the car tomorrow.â He puts a hand on your back, and slowly starts to guide you away. âBet I can fit more in my mouth than you can.â
You scoff. âThatâs a stupid bet, your mouth is bigger.ââHell yeah, it is.â He winks at you, and you whack his chest. The lingering warmth of the fire hides your flush.Â
And even if it didnât, itâs not like he ever sees.Â
Dean makes you go get drinks, before you leave town. He always wants to get drinks. Youâre pretty sure itâs so he can draw that hard line back up, when he takes someone else, and you know that thereâs nothing for you to cling onto. No hope. No delusions that he loves you back. Just Dean, leaning on the bar and flirting with some redhead while you try to see how many shots you can get in before they cut you off. You know how this dance goes. Youâve done it a million time.Â
You pretend that you donât care, when nails trace on Deanâs forearm and he grins like he won the lottery. You get drunk enough that itâs all just a little numb. Dean disappears to the bathroom, you stare at the shelf behind the bar, and try to count how many bottles there are. Dean comes back with a lazy smile, and tells you itâs time to go.Â
And you do, because part of Dean having your heart means he gets to pull on it, and tug you wherever he wants.Â
Then you end up back at the bunker, the slate wipes clean, and you sit in a purgatory of waiting for the next case. For the next time the mountain is going to ask you to climb it, as if youâre more than an ant. For when the Sun is going to shine, and itâs only going to be for you. In the dead of night, where no one else can see, and itâll be gone in the morning.Â
This is all going to be gone in the morning.
âHey, doll. Drinkinâ all alone?âÂ
You glance up, and find a pretty, rough featured man grinning at you. Heâs got perfectly straight, shining white teeth, and messy hair. He looks like heâd been pulled out of one of those old black and white movies Dean likes. His hand is resting near your elbow, brushing lightly as he leans towards you, and thereâs no electricity. No little sparks that fly through you like lightning, the way that Deanâs touch does. This manâs lips pull into a smirk, and itâs not none of the charm Deanâs has. Thereâs a scar on his cheek, but it makes him look less heroicâlike Deanâand more like someone youâd regret ending up behind a closed door with.Â
Itâs not fair to be comparing him to Dean so much. He canât be blamed for not being the man you love, because no one ever comes close. And he doesnât have that snake-like glint in his eyes that always makes you cover your drink.Â
This wonât go anywhere.Â
At least while youâre looking at him, you wonât have to look at Dean and his redhead.Â
âI wasnât.â You smile at him, a little polished and polite. âBut I am now.â
âWell, only a fool is leavinâ something like you behind.â The man drawls, and you raise your brows.
âSomething?â
He doesnât skip a beat. âYouâre too gorgeous to be anything human, sweetheart. Thatâs all.â
You smile softly, looking back to your drink, and you can feel something prickling on the back of your neck. It feels like a wired, burning heat. The buzzing feeling you only get under Deanâs attention.
When you risk a quick look, out of the corner of your eyes, heâs staring at you. The redhead is draped over him, and his hand is on her waist, but heâs looking right at you.Â
Code red? You mouth to him with a small frownâhe and Sam have a bad habit of making out with monsters, so you had to develop a whole fucking plan for itâand his jaw just clenches.Â
Weirdo.Â
You look back to the man with another smile. If Deanâs not about to sleep with a vampire or something, you just donât want to see it.Â
âSmooth recovery.â You tell him, and the man lets out a low laugh, extending his hand.Â
âArcher. I never leave pretty girls at bars.â
You say your name, taking his hand. âAdmirable of you. Let me know if you find any.â
He laughed again. âYou got a mouth on you, huh?â
âSo Iâve been told.â You hum, and Archerâs grin grows.Â
âYou talk big when you play darts?â He leans in a little closer, and he mostly smells like booze and oddly sweet amber. âYou seem like the kinda girl that would be good at dart.â
âWell,â you smile at him. âWhy donât we find out if I am.â
Archer helps you up, and he really is nice enough. He doesnât get mad when you beat him at darts, but he also stands a little too close the whole time. He throws too much with his shoulder, and you donât think heâd be open to the feedback, so you just laugh softly at all his jokes. Theyâre not bad jokes, but they have an edge that might cut you if youâre not careful. Youâre already good at cutting into yourself with words. You donât need Archer to do it for you.Â
Thatâs one of the reasons you love Dean. All his jokes are so fucking stupid, and they feel like being wrapped in a hug or having the barbed wire around you softened into nothing.Â
You need to stop comparing him to Dean.Â
But itâs hard, when heâs right across the room. Still with his redhead, whoâs combing her fingers through his hair possessively, and pouting at him with honeyed words he canât seem to hear any better than you. She touches him like heâs hers.Â
Right now, he is. Maybe more than heâs ever yours.
But heâs still glowering at you. Itâs like a dagger, driving into your heart and making you a little dizzy.Â
You look away.Â
If he needs you, heâll come get you.Â
And he never does.Â
You spend the rest of the night drinking with Archer, trading sharp jokes like a sparring match and grinning in the hazy light of the bar. His hand rests on your hip while you choose a song from the jukebox. Sits next to you in a booth, thighs pressed together, and his shiny grin completely focused on you. It doesnât make you feel gooey and malleable, like Deanâs does. For a moment you think Archer at least gives you the hummingbird heartbeat that Dean doesâwhere your breath gets shallow and your hands get restless to touchâbut thatâs just Dean.Â
Still staring at you.Â
All fucking night.Â
âSo,â Archer drawls, and you refuse to look away from him. It takes more effort than when you stare at Dean. Itâs less magnetic.Â
You need to fucking stop.Â
âYouâre not from âround here, are you doll?â
You grin at him, playing with the straw in your glass. âYouâre just asking that now?â
âForgive me,â he places a hand over his heart. âWanted to make sure you werenât just a dream.â
âYeah, okay.â You laugh, shaking your head. âIâm not from here. Iâm passing through for work.â
âAh. Any chance you might pass through more than once?â
âDepends. Are you going to murder someone to make me come back?â
Archerâs brows raise. âMurder? What, you a fed?â
âNo. Iâm more of a⌠private investigator.â
âInteresting. You dazzle them out of all their secrets, doll?â He smirks at you, and you tense slightly.
âActually, Iâm the muscle.â You hum, just to test how he reacts.Â
Another laugh. It was a joke. You canât fault him for that.
Dean wouldâve laughed as well.
But Dean never wouldâve said you dazzle. He wouldâve chuckled and said something like private investigator? Like those mind-reader shows?Â
You wouldâve said, Yeah, but I donât need to read minds. People usually tell you everything by themselves.Â
Yeah? He wouldâve leaned in, holding your gaze. What am I telling you, sweetheart?
And you wouldâve flushed, and whispered. Youâll have to pay me first.
Dean wouldâve made a big show of grabbing a twenty out of his wallet and passing it to you. Wouldâve said something else like, probably should be worried you got me all figured out-.
Archer says your name, and you blink at him.Â
âHuh?â
âI was askinâ if you wanted to get out of here.â Archer grins at you, leaning in so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath. âI got a truck you can investigate, doll?â
You swallow. You canât.
Archer is nice.Â
Heâs not Dean.Â
âIâm sorry.â You give him a small smile, bracing for a possible fight. âI have to leave pretty early in the morning. I canât tonight.â
Archer shrugs it off. âAlright. I leave my number. But-â He hasnât leaned back. âPrice of it is one kiss.â
You let out a slow breath, and nod. Archer almost crashes into you, a little more rough and passionate than it feels like it needs to be. Thereâs a lot more teeth and spit than there needs to be. Itâs clumsy, and mostly him grabbing your jaw and you trying to breathe through your nose. Not the worst kiss of your life.
Nothing youâre going to remember in a week, no matter how Archer presses into you.Â
Dean snaps your name, and you pull back suddenly with wide eyes.Â
Heâs standing at your booth, his redhead nowhere in sight. Youâve never seen his jaw that tight before, and his arms are crossed over his chest the same way he headlocks a demon so Sam can exorcise it.Â
The same way heâs head locked you, when itâs dark outside and heâs shoving his hand between your thighs, keeping you pressed against him while you scream his name, overwhelmed with his fingers playing your pussy and his lips attached to your neck-Â
Not a helpful thought to be having right now.Â
âWhatâs up, man.â Archer grins at Dean lazily, wiping his mouth, and Deanâs nostrils flare.Â
âWe need to go.â He grunts your name, gaze fixed on yours, as if Archer isnât even there. âSam called. Might be a storm. Donât wanna drive Baby in the rain.â
You frownâhe drives Baby in the rain all the timeâbut donât call after him when he marches away.Â
âSorry.â You mumble to Archer. âHe takes his car really seriously.â
ââS alright. You want, you can call me if heâs an ass to you, and Iâll beat him up.â
Archer grins as he says that, sliding you the paper with his number, and you press your lips together. Deanâs never an ass to you. Heâs just frustrated about something, because thatâs how he acts when heâs about to snap, and trying to shove it down. You know him. You know whatever it is isnât your business, and he wonât take it out on you, but itâs best not to push him when heâs trying to push it down.Â
You wish, more than anything, that if you took his hand and asked him what was wrong, heâd tell you.Â
But he wonât. So you kiss Archerâs cheek, thank himâand murmur another apology when Dean barks your name from the doorâand walk away. You donât look back. Archerâs nice. You might end up back here in a few week, if you get lonely enough.Â
But right now, everything you love is in front of you.Â
Grumpy and silent, barely speaking in more than grunts, but in front of you.Â
Dean still opens the door for you. Still guides you through it with a hand on your lower, and helps you into the Impala before rounding the hood with a scowl. He turns on the engine a little more aggressively than he needs to, and grips the wheel with white knuckles, glowering out at the road. You want to reach over and rest your hand on his knee. Ask him whatâs wrong, if you can help.Â
Help by talking about it, or help by letting him fuck it out into you, until he collapsed with a groan of your name and his brow pressed to yours. Then he could say thatâs just what I needed sweetheart, thank you, and youâd say always, and heâd look at you like he was seeing you for the first time-
âThat guy looked like a discount cowboy.â Dean grunts, and you blink at him.Â
âWho?â
âThe dude you were with.â He wonât look away from the road. âLooked like someone pulled him right off the street.â
âOh.â You look down to your fingers. âHe was nice.â
âYeah, I bet he was.â
You frown. âWhatâs that supposed to mean-â
âYou gonna go back and see him?â Dean ignores your question, and youâre a little worried heâs going to break his own hand.
âMaybe. I donât know. I- He was nice.âÂ
Deanâs jaw ticks. âYou said that already.â
âYeah, well- He was.â You sink into your seat, glaring at your nails. âAnd he liked me.â
Dean laughs, cold and flat, and you scowl at him.
âWhy is that funny, Dean? Is it really that insane to you that someone might actually like me?â
âI never said that.â He snaps, and you roll your eyes.Â
âReally? Because it fucking sounds like you think him liking me is funny-â
âItâs not.â
âThe whyâd you laugh, Winchester?â Your heart feels like itâs ripping apart. Splintering and fracturing, all the glue that kept it together unraveling, and you donât know why this is the line. Deanâs been mad at you before, when you jumped in front of him during a hunt or made a choice he didnât agree with. But itâs how he fights with everyone he cares about.Â
This is different.Â
This is about nothing, and even if youâre not the source of his wrath, youâre the target. And you donât even get a grumble of Sam messed up or found out someone died. Heâs just pissed, and heâs being a dick, and youâre too tired to pretend it doesnât hurt.Â
He canât just laugh.Â
Itâs killing you faster than the indifference did.Â
âIs it hilarious to you?â You sneer, twisting to fully face him. âThe idea that someone could actually talk to me, and find me interesting, and want to see me again?â
âI never said that, sweetheart-â
âDonât sweetheart me, Dean. You canât fucking fathom that maybe someone would find me attractive-â
âI never said that.â He snaps your name, and some small part of you thatâs only there to please him cowers. âI just meant that discount cowboy isnât fuckinâ special for finding you attractive, alright. Donât matter how nice he is.â The words sound like theyâre physically hurting him. âHeâs not the only douchebag who likes you.â
You snort. âYeah, alright. I think you just donât want to lose your fucktoy.â
The car jerks slightly. âDonât fuckinâ say that.â
âWhy not?â You lean back into your seat, propping your knees on the dashboard. âOnce I find someone who actually likes me, which I will because apparently theyâre everywhere and just alluding me somehow, you lose your backup, Winchester. You canât wrap your head around a world without your plan B, if you strike out. You canât imagine that theyâd kiss me in public, instead of behind a door so nobody else has to see. That they wouldnât want to go around and fuck someone else while they kept me on standby.â
Deanâs words are pushed through his teeth. âOh, heâll fuck someone else, sweetheart. Donât worry about that.â
You gape at him, blood pounding in your ears. âWhat the fuck is your problem, Dean?â
âNothing.â He mutters, and you scoff.Â
âNothing.â You echo, tone filled with more venom than you thought you were capable of, and you could swear you see him flinch. âYou know, he did like me. He laughed at all my jokes, and he paid attention to me, and maybe I will go see him. Maybe weâll fall in love, and Iâll move out, and I can send you Christmas cards every year so you can see how much he actually fucking likes me-â
You cut yourself off with a noise of surprise, as Dean turns the car and slams on the breaks. Your stupid, traitorous hands fly to grab him, because heâs still the safest place in the world, even when heâs being a dick.Â
Dean stares out at the dark of the woods, breathing heavily. You slowly draw your hands away, and wrap your arms around your stomach. Too far. You pushed it too far.
âIâm-â
âShut up.â He grunts, and you scowl.
âIâm trying to apologize to you, asshole-â
âSave it. Donât want it.âÂ
âI- You donât get to stop my apology-â
âYou donât- No.â He bows his head, fingers still clenched on the wheel. âYou didnât do anything, sweetheart. Just- Forget it.â
You stare at him. Forget it. He wants you to just fucking forget it, and you canât.Â
âDean.â You say, lowering your voice like youâre telling him a secret. âYou- Iâm sorry.â
âStop.â He looks up at you with a rough glare, voice hoarse. âDonât- I said you didnât do anything-â
âIt seems like I did.â You hold his gaze, refusing to let your voice falter. âConsidering you fucking shouted at me and pulled over.â
He blinks at you, then lets out a dry, humorless. âSo you want me to apologize? That all I gotta do, to make you drop it?â
âNo, I want you to tell me what I did.â
âYou didnât-â
âDonât lie to me, Dean.â You let out a long, slow breath. âJust- Please. We donât have to talk about feelings, but just say like, you forgot to get me a drink and weâll⌠pretend this never happened.â
Dean stares at you for a moment. âYou think Iâd get that pissed because you forgot to get me a drink?â
âNo.â You mumble, picking at your nails again. âThat was just an example.â
He keeps staring at you, tapping his fingers on the wheel again, and lets out a slow breath. âDo you really believe that?â
You frown. âNo, I told you, I was just thinking of something stupid and random, like a drink-â
âNo, not that.â He sighs, scanning over your face for something he canât seem to find. âYou think I donât actually like you? That youâre just my backup, that Iâm ashamed of you or something?â
âOh.â You flush, and suddenly you canât bear to look at him, but you canât figure out how to look away. âMaybe.â
âMaybe-âÂ
âI donât know, Dean, and- I donât know why thatâs important, itâs just- I was angry, I was just saying things-â
âBut you believe them.â He mutters. âFucktoy, sweetheart. Thatâs what you said.â
âI- Yeah.â You swallow. âThis isnât about me, Dean.â
He laughs dryly, looking out to the road with a shake of his head. âYeah. Itâs not about you.â
âDean-â
âItâs always about you,â he says your name, giving you a strange look. âEvery time, itâs- Goddamnit, itâs never not about you, and I didnât- I never thought that was something- Itâs always about you.â He says it again. He keeps saying it. Like mantra. âYou wanna know whatâs wrong, sweetheart. You really wanna know?â
You nod, not trusting your own voice, and his throat bobs.Â
âI didnât like it. Seeinâ you with him. Didnât like that you smiled at him. Didnât like how you were looking at him. Didnât like how he was touching you.â He glares out at the night, hands twitching slightly. âDidnât like it.â
Thereâs a long moment of silence, as his words sink into you, and you start to feel a little dizzy.
âYou- Dean-âÂ
âI know what it sounds like. But- I never once thought of you as plan B.â He turns back to you, eyes shining in the dark. âEver.â
You shake your head, voice barely more than a breath. âDean, you- You canât say that-â
âYou asked me what was wrong. Iâm telling you the truth-â
âThatâs not the truth-â
âYeah. It is. Like it or-â
âYou donât even let me have sex with you when weâre home, Dean!â You cut him off, voice rising quickly. âYou- You donât even look at me, youâve never once said anything, and if you did youâd have said something like- Weâve been doing this for nine months-â
âI didnât think about it until tonight, alright-â
âNo,â you shake your head, reaching for the door. âNo, you just didnât think you could lose me until tonight, then suddenly itâs always about me-â
âShit, no- Wait-â He grabs your arm, eyes filled with a strange kind of pain. âI didnât mean it like that, donât- I didnât know. It was always about you but I didnât let myself fuckinâ think about it, and I didnât think about how I canât lose you until I could see it, and I hated it, and- Just donât walk away,â he says your name, and it comes out low and desperate. âI know itâs fucked, sweetheart, but I didnât let you in my room âcause then it would be something real that I could lose, and turns out I can lose it anyway, and- Donât walk away. Donât.â
You blink at him, and let go of the handle. âYouâre such a fucking hypocrite, Dean Winchester.â
He lets out a low breath, drawing back his seat with that flat, empty amusement. âI donât think I am, sweetheart. Roadâs gotta go both ways for that.â
Itâs your turn to laugh, and he frowns at you.
âWhat.â
âNothing.âÂ
âNothing-â
âNo.â You shoot him a tight smile. âBut you see how annoying that is?â
He stares at you, then chuckles, leaning back in his seat. âAlright. Fair hit.â
âThank you.â You look down to your nails, then mumble. âIt goes both ways.â
âIt- What?âÂ
âWhy do you think I cared so much, about being your fucktoy?â
âUh-â He coughs. âObjectification?â
You laugh softly, and thereâs no fight left in you. âNo. I- I hate it.â You look up at him, letting the words spill out of you before you can stop them. âI hate it when you go home with other people. I hate it when you fuck me then pretend it didnât happen. I hate it when you break my heart and put it back together and never even think about what youâre doing.â
âI-â
âI hate it because itâs not fair.â You whisper, and he stares at you with a slack expression. âItâs not fair that I love you and I have to pretend that I donât.â
Dean rasps your name, and you give him a small, sad smile.
âBut I do love you, Dean. And I donât hate that.â
He swallows, then shakes his head. âNo, you donât.â
âYes, I do.â You lean forward, bracing your hand on his knee. âDo you love me?â
Dean stares at you, his hands flexing on the wheel again, and you donât look away. Donât take it back. Itâs too late for that, and you donât want to back. Not if youâre headed where you think you are.Â
âYou donât- Son of a bitch-â Dean looks away, shaking his head. âDonât just say that- You donât get what youâre doinâ, sweetheart.â
You just keep watching him, waiting, and he looks back to you with an expression like youâre physically hurting him, and something shifting in his eyes.
âSay it again.â He mutters, and you smile.
âI love you, Dean.â
He makes a low sound in his throat, and almost lunges for you. Wraps his hand around your neck and pulls you forward, grabbing your thigh and dragging it over his. Deanâs lips smash into yours with a brutal fervor, and your hands shoot to grab his shirt in an attempt to balance on his lap.Â
Dean wraps his arm fully around you, and balance isnât a problem anymore. Youâre pinned to his chest as he kisses you like he wasnât just kissing you last night, like heâs never going to kiss you again. Like heâs been starved of it, and canât do anything but devour you and hope it saves him. You wrap an arm around his neck as a small sound of need leaves your throat, and Dean grunts, deepening the kiss by pressing your head closer. It a rough, messy kiss, but itâs fucking wet and breathless and making your head spin because you donât ever want to pull away.Â
Your nails dig into his neck as he pulls you a little further forward, making your core press right against his crotch. Heâs pressing through his jeans and hard, and your mouth falls open in a wanting moan as you start to grind down on him. Just a little friction is all you need, and Dean is swallowing every sound, and with the jerk of his hips up when you bite on his lip, maybe heâll give you everything you want-
He grunts, and suddenly youâre being flipped over. Pinned down on the bench, Dean never once breaking the kiss. One of his hands shoots under your shirt to trace your sides, and it sends little shivers through you that make your back arch.Â
âDean-â You whisper, the sound falling into a broken moan when his hips drop over yours. âOh, god- You didnât-â His knee pushes up, right against your core, and you push out the words before you forget you were ever fighting at all. âWe were talking-â
âYeah, I know.â Dean kisses the corner of your mouth. âAnd I love you,â he mutters your name, lips wandering everywhere on your face. âLove so much it makes me fuckinâ sick, sweetheart. Made me want to rip off his arms then rip off mine for letting someone else-â He takes a ragged breath, pressing his brow against yours and searching your open face with hooded, shining eyes.Â
âDean, I-â
âNever think of anyone but you.â He rasps, leaning down to kiss you again, this time slower, with so much care it almost breaks your heart. âAnd Iâll keep tellinâ you, I swear. Never gonna be a question, youâre never gonna think I donât care, I-â He leans up, handsome features almost fallen in desperation. âWonât mess it up this time, baby, it can be whatever you want.â He reaches out, tracing his thumb over your cheeks. âI can be whatever you want.âÂ
âDean,â you whisper, reaching up to cup his face. âI just want you. Iâve only ever wanted you.â
You stare at each other, and youâre not entirely sure this isnât a dream. But Dean feels real, over you. Settled between your legs and hard and looking at you with obvious, plain adoration written on his face. Itâs a look youâve only ever seem limited to his eyes, in the dead of night.Â
But now itâs all you can see. And itâs every bit as beautiful as the rest of him.Â
Deanâs throat bobs, and he dives back down, pressing another, softer and passionate kiss to your lips. You hum happily into it, and his lips curve into a grin.Â
Then heâs gone.Â
Dean sits up, taking you with him, and moves you back into your own seat as he looks back to the wheel. You blink at him, so cold from the loss of him everywhere over you. Youâre about to open your mouth and plead for him to come back, or maybe just cry, when he grabs your thigh and squeezes.Â
âSorry, baby.â He mutters, glancing over his shoulder to the road. âWeâre not doinâ this here.â
âDoing-â Your mouth falls open as his hand moves up, letting two fingers press against your aching center. âOh.â
He smirks, rubbing his fingers back and forth with slow, teasing motions as he pulls back onto the road.
âDean.â You whisper, grabbing his wrist as it starts to feel unbearable. âWhy, I- We can do it in the car, I donât mind-â
âI mind.â He grunts, curling his fingers so his knuckles press against you. âYou think I donât wanna have you in my room, so weâre goinâ there.â
âBut thereâs still and hour-â
âSo sit still, baby.â He drawls, using the low taunting voice that follows you into most dreams. âYou can take what you want,â he rubs his knuckles, and you head falls back with a moan. âBut youâre cumming âleast three times once I get you in my bed. So play careful.â
You glare at him, squeezing his wrist like it can somehow teleport you back to the bunker, and Deanâs grin just widens.
âYou know how pretty you are, when youâre pissed at me?â
âShut up,â you mutter, dropping your face into his shoulder, and he laughs, kissing your brow.
âYes, maâam.â
Deanâs hand between your legs shiftsâeasily despite your hold on himâand suddenly his palms is pressed over your clit, his fingers crooking right over where he knows your entrance is. And you might have given him too much power, but thereâs no one else youâd rather have this effect on you. No one else would so stupidly obey your command with such a strange, smug pride on their face. Dean keeps humming along with the radio and lazily rubbing his fingers like this is just perfectly normal. A little boring, as if your cunt is just a toy for him to play with while he drives.Â
But you can see the evidence of his own desperation, pressing through his jeans. And when you press your thighs together, trapping his hand, he grunts and flexes his fingers. A moan slips through your lips and he grins with that same, smug pride, repeating the movement. The louder you moan, the more he looks like a child on Christmas.Â
And it canât be comfortable, how hard he is right now.Â
You can help with that.Â
You lean back, grabbing his arm and slowly dragging it away. Dean shoots you a curious look, butâper your earlier instructionsâdoesnât say anything. You give him an innocent, slightly pouting smile, and trace your hand up his thigh until youâre brushing against his cock through his jeans.
He coughs, grabbing your wrist. âWhatâre you doinâ.âÂ
Itâs not a question. He fucking knows, with how his ears are red and voice is low.
âNothing.â You hum, scooting a little close on the bench, and his throat bobs.Â
âYou donât gotta-â
âI want to.â You hum, brushing your lips over his neck. âPlease?â
âJesus.â He mutters, already sounding wrecked, and lets go of your wrist. âYeah, okay. Just- be careful, donât hit your head on the wheel or somethinâ-â
âYou thought I was talking about going down on you?â
He shoots you a slack, guilty look, and you giggle.
âDonât worry, I was.â You squeeze him over his jeans, and Dean lets out the loudest, longest moan of your name youâve ever heard. You could get addicted to that.Â
You kind of already have.Â
With slow, careful hands, you unzip his jeans. Dean lets out another guttural sound as you pull out his cock, rock hard and already weeping with pre-cum. You swipe your thumb over the angry head of him, then stroke him with a firm, dragging pace. A vein in his neck bulges, his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm as his grip on the wheel looking like heâs about to try and rip it from the car.Â
You squeeze the base of his cock, then lean down to swipe a tiny, kitten lick over the slit.Â
He makes that same, loud and desperate moan of your name, and you can feel his thick muscles fighting to not slam up into your mouth. You wrap your lips fully around him, swirling your tongue and sucking like heâs the best lollipop youâve ever had, and Dean makes a broken, pained sound that vibrates through you.Â
âSon of a bitch, baby.â His voice is loud and rough, sweeping straight through you like an electric fire. âGonna fuckinâ kill me- Christ-â
You start to bob your head up and down until heâs hitting the back of your throat, and wrap your hand around what you canât fit in your mouth. His cock is heavy on your tongue, and he keeps groaning your name, and you can feel your own arousal starting to drip down your thighs. Itâs too much heat for you to handle yourself, and this has always been the part where Dean takes over. But when you drag one of his hands down to grab your hair, he just holds it with a loose grip and keeps still below you.
You double your efforts, starting to grind against the air and moaning around him, and Dean chuckles.
âToo much, baby? You start somethinâ you canât finish?â
No. You can finish it. Deanâs hand is gliding away from your head to rub your back, and you can finish this yourself. You whine and moan around him, speeding up until youâre lightheaded, and youâre rewarded with the deepest, most desperate groan of your name yet.Â
You smile around him, using every broken noise from Deanâs chest as fuel, and keep fucking the air as you suck him off. You know what the sight is doing to him. His hand on your back is pressing and firm, his thighs are strained as you drive him right up to the edge, and heâs losing control faster and faster.Â
Dean ruts up into your mouth with a groan. âShit- Baby, you gotta- Iâm âbout to-â
You throw everything you have into him, moaning his name as he hits the back of your throat, and Deanâs hips slam up so fast you almost choke.
âFuck- Sorry, sweetheart-â
You shake your head, even as tears prick at your eyes, and donât stop.Â
Dean cums down your throat with an almost feral groan of your name, and the leash heâd been keeping on himself snaps. He fucks up into your mouth as he cums, and when you risk a look up at him under your lashes, he staring at you like youâve fallen from space. Hooded eyes and face painted with a hungry, insatiable kind of pleasure.Â
You swallow every bit of his release. You pull off of him with a pop, and barely get a chance to lick your lips before heâs dragging you up into a heavy, deep kiss.Â
Dean groans at the taste of himself on your lips. âLook at you, doing it all by yourself.â He drawls. âDirty girl, you get off sucking my cock, donât you baby?â
âYes.â You whisper, and Deanâs grin widens.
âYou wanna see what I get off on?â
You nod, mouth hanging slightly open, and Dean drags you into another, deep, heavy kiss.Â
âLemme show you, sweetheart. Câmon.âÂ
Youâre not sure exactly when Dean parked the car, but you know youâre back at the bunker. With Dean. And heâs not ignoring you this time.Â
He carries you bridal style inside, marching with long strides and only a shout of donât bother knockinâ to Sam. Youâve only ever seen this kind of determination in him during a hunt.Â
But heâs a man on a mission. And you have a feeling heâs not going to stop until you canât walk for a week.Â
Worse things have happened.
Dean kicks the door to his room closed, eyes flashing as he looks down at you, and he lowers you carefully down onto the bed.Â
You stare at him, mouth hanging open, and his mattress is so soft. The whole room smells like Dean, and heâs towering over you, tracing his hand gently over your face like heâs trying to memorize you with every touch.Â
âLie down, baby.â He mutters, and you nod crawling backwards until your head is settled on the pillows.Â
Dean groans, prowling slowly over you and dragging your knees apart.
âYouâre so fuckinâ gorgeous.â He mutters, playing with the hem of your bottoms and holding your gaze. âYou wanna know how often Iâve imagined you in here? Lyinâ down just like this, all ready for me, all mine?â
You shake your head, a little at a loss for words, and Dean smirks.
âEvery goddamn night.â He leans down, brushing his lips over yours. âThese sheets already know who you are, pretty girl. Theyâve heard me callinâ for you.â
This still feels like a dream. A hot, wet dream where Deanâs looking at you like youâre the only thing in the world.Â
âDean-â
He silences you with a deep, long kiss, and thereâs so much electricity buzzing through you, that alone almost sends you over the edge.Â
âI know, sweetheart.â He mutters, pressing another, sloppy kiss to your neck. âIâve gotcha. Arms up.â
You obey his low command, and Dean undresses you with a slow, taunting deliberation. His eyes are locked onto yours the entire time, as he drags your shirt over your head and unhooks your bra with a single hand. Calloused, warm fingers cup your breasts for a moment and his gaze drops, filled with a gentle awe as he rolls your nipple between his fingers.Â
âGod-â Your breath hitches, even as you roll your eyes. âDean, youâve seen them before-â
âYeah, but they never get any less hot.â He mutters, grinning at you and his hands travel lower.
âDork.â You mumble, and he just laughs.Â
âSave the dirty talk, sweetheart. Havenât even given you that first orgasm yet.â
You blink at himâyouâd forgotten that promiseâand before you can ask if heâs serious, Dean picks your legs up and pulls off your pants. Every word vanishes into a lustful daze as he kisses your ankle, then your knee, drawing a line with his mouth right up to your inner thighs.Â
He sucks a tiny, mark on the soft skin, keeping your hips angled up with hands on your ass, and you grab at the sheets as your need for him grows painful.Â
âI- More, Dean, more-â You gasp as he open mouth kisses your cunt over your panties, eyes locked onto you and almost glittering with lust.
âSo wet,â he teases, repeating the movement. âAlways so wet for me, baby girl, and just from thinkinâ about me wrecking this pretty pussy.â
Tears of need start to prick at your eyes. âDean please-â
âHereâs what gets me off, darling.â He almost growls, and thatâs new. Darling. Low and rough, like he adores you. âYou, lookinâ at me like you fucking love me. Like just this,â he kisses your inner thigh again, and you shudder. âIs enough. Is it enough, sweetheart?â
No. âI- I donât know-â
âYeah, you do.â He smirks at you. âItâs not, is it. You want me to wreck you. Fuckinâ ruin you, make you feel me for a week, show you who owns this pussy.â
âDean-â
âCause you own me,â he mutters your name, voice suddenly soft, breath warm over your ruined panties. âYou know that, baby. Just tell me what you want, and Iâll get it for you-â
âFuck me.â You almost scream, because any more teasing might kill you. âJust fuck me, Dean, please fuck me, please- Oh-â
He grabs your panties and your breath hitches as he rips them from your body in a single motion.Â
âGood girl, usinâ your words.â His thumb brushes over your clit, and you shudder below him. âTurn around.â
You blink at him, too dazed to register his words, and Dean doesnât wait for you to catch up. He grabs you and flips you onto your stomach, dragging your ass up so youâre fully exposed to him.Â
âJesus.â He mutters, dragging two fingers between the fold over your pussy. âJust for me, huh, baby.â
âYes.â You breathe out, twisting to try and look at him over your shoulder. âDean, donât tease-â
âIâm not teasing.â He winks at you. âJust admiring the view.â
You open your mouth to snap something back, and Dean shoves his face right into your cunt. You fall forwards at the overwhelming feeling of him, making out with your pussy like a man possessed. Swiping his tongue through your arousal, and dragging you back against him as he presses his tongue flat on your clit. You press your face into the mattress as you moan his name, fisting the sheets for some kind of anchor.Â
Dean groans against you, the sound reverberating against you and making your grind against his mouth. One of his hands squeeze on your ass as the other rubs up and down on your thigh. You feel his tongue drag around your clit and his arm wraps fully around you, forcing you to stay up as your knees go weak.Â
His free hand moves to your clit, rubbing furious, tight circles as his tongue refocuses onto fucking and eating you, and you feel a burning coil in your gut snap. You cum so hard the edge of your vision goes white, but Dean doesnât stop. He keeps going through your orgasm until you feel like youâre made lightning. Youâre arching into and away from his touch, trying to chase more while clawing at the sheets to try and get away from his unrelenting mouth.Â
âDean-â You whine, trying twist back around but pinned by his grip. âDean, too much- Canât take it-â
He pulls back so fast, leaving only one sloppy kiss against you before drawing fully up.Â
âYou can take it, baby girl.â He mutters, rubbing your thigh gently, and you shiver. âLook at me, darling.â
You twist your face, still pressed into the mattress, and heâs looking at you like youâre an angel. You donât feel like one. You mostly feel like a hot, needy mess thatâs devout to the wrong type of god.Â
âI can stop.â He says your name gently, still rubbing your thigh. âYou want me to stop?â
âNo.â You whisper quickly, and he smirks.
âYeah, thatâs what I thought.â His thumb presses over your clit again, and you whine, turning your face into the mattress as you roll your hips. âThatâs my girl.â
His girl. Your head spins around the words, trying to find the divet in them that will let you tear them apart. That means theyâre a lie, and this is really all a dream.Â
But itâs not. And Dean sounds like heâs saying those words like a vow.Â
He grabs your jaw, and gently turns your face for a deep kiss. You hum against his full, perfect lips, then gasp as his cock rubs between your dripping pussy lips.
Dean grins against you, even as a low sound rumbles through him. âRelax.â
You go slack, trusting his words more than almost anything, and Dean kisses your neck, pushing himself into you with one move.Â
âGood girl.â He starts to trail the kisses up spine, hands wandering over your body, touching and groping every bit of you he can reach. âSo fuckinâ tight, baby, every damn time, drives me crazy.â
He pulls almost fully out, grabbing your hips to keep you steady, and slams fully back into you.Â
A broken sound falls between your lips, and you shudder and clench around him. Thatâs all it fucking took, with all his teasing from before. Your face presses into the mattress as your toes curl and you start to feel limp, but Dean doesnât let you hide. His arm wraps around your stomach, hauling you up onto all fours as he starts to fuck into you with a rough, unforgiving pace.Â
âOne more, baby, you got one more.â He kneads at your hips, filling you up over and over, slamming over every sensitive spot inside of you. âSo tight, my pretty girl, fuckinâ- Hell yes-â
âDean- Dean-â You keep fluttering around him as he groans your name, unable to keep yourself up, and you canât remember any other words. âDean-â
He understands, not breaking pace as he pulls you up against his chest and grabs your throat. Kissing you with an open mouth and moans as the angle lets him hit deeper.Â
You grab his arm, staring at him with an open, adoring expression. Heâs always handsome, but itâs never sharper than when he lets go. Then when he envelops you with his everything, when you can feel him everywhere. You shake in his arms, lost in the taste of him and lewd sounds of sex filling his room.Â
You donât even see this one coming. Dean fingers find your clit again, right as his movement get staggered, and pleasure washes through you. It makes you float, so high that it feels like youâre never going to come down. It feels so good, you might be crying from how much it is, but then Dean kisses your cheeks. Mutters your name in your ear as you sink backwards into him, and ruts into your abused cunt as he falls over the edge with you.Â
You just smile a little stupidly at the air as Dean heaves behind you, leaning your head against his shoulder.Â
He lowers down onto his knees, keeping you pressed against him, and he looks just as wrecked as you feel. He kisses your cheek once, before turning you onto your back and lowering you back down to the mattress.Â
His mattress.Â
Youâre lying on Deanâs mattress, where heâs never let anyone else sleep before. Where he said it made this real.Â
And it is real. He really loves you.Â
When he tries to rise back upâprobably to do something stupid and romanticâyou find enough strength to grab him.Â
He looks down at you with raised brows, and you just keep smiling at him.Â
âWhatâs wrong, darling.â He mutters, and you giggle.Â
âNo. I just love you.â
His lips twitch, his voice still rough. Like he canât fully believe it either. âYeah?â
You nod eagerly, and Dean grins.Â
Time feels frozen. Just you and Dean, smiling at each other in the low light, his hands on your so careful, still trying not to break you.Â
You donât care if he does.Â
He knows just how to put you back together.Â
âŚEnd note: God he's such an idiot. I need him.âŚ
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so sorry to bother you if you arenât able to do this req but this is more of a thought I had
dean winchester x reader but heâs like the ultimate yearner, Iâm talking about hotel california type of yearning. reader isnât exactly a hunter but she does investigate paranormal activity.
Ö´ ࣪đ¤â ęł ŕšŕŁ â `hotel california, dean winchester ŕźâĄ
summary: you catch dean staring. again. playful banter ensues, and you can't help but feel something toward him.
word count: 709
pairing: dean winchester x reader
â§Â°. âŕźşâžđ¤ŕźťâ. °â§
The motel room remains quiet except for the sound of rustling paper and the faint hum of the overhead light.
Your bed is covered in newspaper clippings and photocopies, a whole city of notes spread out in a careful chaos. Dean stands there longer than he should, leaning on the doorframe like he just happened to stop by, but the truth is that heâs been watching you for five minutes already.
Youâre in your own world; pen in hand, eyes darting between articles and your lips move soundlessly as you piece together a theory. You look as if you belong here, wrapped up in words and patterns, chasing something most people would never bother to see.
Dean clears his throat, just to break the spell before he embarrasses himself.
âLooks like youâre either hunting a ghost, or auditioning for the role of Conspiracy Nut Weekly.â
âFunny,â you huff a small laugh, âand yet you think I havenât noticed you hovering near me when Iâm balls-deep in research.
His smirk sticks to his face. âHover? No, sweetheart, I donât hover. I observe.â He crosses the room before you can argue, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
You laugh softly, shaking your head. You go back to highlighing a section of text. Dean pretends heâs reading along, but heâs really just memorising the shape of your handwriting.
The way your fingers grip the pen. How you circle the pen when youâre trying to think of what to write next.
âSo,â he says after a moment of silence, âyou always dive this deep? Or am I just catching you on a good day?â
âThis is a good day,â you admit without looking up. âSometimes the trail runs cold. But this one?â You tap the page with your finger, excitement bleeding into your voice. âThis is a pattern. See? The deaths line up perfectly with these dates here. I think something biggerâs happening that everyone else has overlooked.â
Dean feels it like a punch in the chestâthe way you light up when you talk about it, because youâre not burned out like him. Thereâs still hope in your voice, belief in what youâre doing. And for some reason, it makes him want to protect it. Protect you.
He swallows hard. âYou ever think about leaving it to the professionals?â
You arch a brow, finally meeting his eyes. âLike you?â
âYeah. Like me.â He shrugs, trying for cocky, but it comes out a little softer than he meant. âYou keep digging into this stuff, youâre bound to attract trouble.â
You tilt your head, studying him. Itâs subtle, but he feels it. The way your gaze lingers, like maybe youâre trying to read him as carefully as you read your notes. âMaybe I already did,â you murmur.
The air goes thick between you. Dean forces a laugh, breaking eye contact, rubbing the back of his neck like he can shrug off the heat crawling up it. âGuess thatâs one way to put it.â
You let it go mercifully, and return to your papers. But when you reach across the bed for another folder, your knee brushes his. He doesnât move. He doesnât breathe.
You donât either. For a heartbeat, youâre both frozen there, knees touching in the middle of all your scattered evidence.
Thereâs a part of him that wants to close the distance. To sit shoulder to shoulder with you on that messy bed and let his hand brush yours, let himself sink into the warmth you donât even know you radiate. But Dean Winchester doesnât get to have soft things. He doesnât get to want. So he forces himself to stand back, watching, yearning, burning quietly in the corner of your light.
Dean finally stands, retreating a step like it costs him everything. âDonât stay up too late,â he mutters, voice rough. âGotta keep your strength up if youâre gonna keep playing Nancy Drew.â
âGoodnight, Dean,â you whisper. Thereâs something in your tone, something knowing, that makes his stomach flip.
He leaves before he can make a fool of himself, but later, lying awake in his own room, Dean swears he can still feel the ghost of your knee against his. And it keeps him up longer than any nightmare ever could.
