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Sweet Seals For You, Always
ellievsbear
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Discoholic 🪩
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will byers stan first human second
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
if i look back, i am lost
Monterey Bay Aquarium
tannertan36
Mike Driver
KIROKAZE
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Not today Justin
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RMH
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@velvetwinchester
𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨!
natasha - 23 - she/her - gemini
interests - supernatural, the boys, jensen ackles, jared padalecki, marvel, film, writing, taylor swift, sabrina carpenter. writing for - supernatural characters, soldier boy, jackles characters.
mostly nsfw! | 18+ only | minors dni/dnf!
masterlist | guidelines | about me | requests open! | ୨ৎ
© velvetwinchester est. 2026. please do not steal, rewrite or repost any of my work without permission. do not feed my work to ai.
sleepy boy — dean winchester.
cw: smut, handjob, submissive!dean, dom/sub dynamics, somnophilia, edging, orgasm denial & control, begging, slight cock torture, cum eating 18+
submissive!dean x fem!reader ⋮ wc: 2.2k
the motel bed creaked softly as you shifted your weight, seeking the warmth of your boyfriend sleeping soundly behind you. a small gasp escaped your mouth as you backed into him, feeling a sudden hard line pressing up against your ass. you tensed, hesitating for a moment in your sleepy daze before shuffling further back into it.
dean’s breath caught in his throat, a whimpery sound vibrating into your ear. a surge of excitement shot through you, headed straight between your thighs at the sound, a heartbeat growing against the gusset of your underwear.
Sam winchester side profile appreciation
x fem reader ୨୧ ִ ࣪ ⋆ dean winchester taking the strap like a good boy
character featured. dean winchester.ᐟ + sub.ᐟ dean rating: mature.ᐟ
The smirk, the swagger, the leather jacket, the “I’m fine” that means absolutely nothing. He’s spent his whole life being the strong one, the protector, the one who takes care of everyone else. So when you take charge? When you put him down? He short-circuits. Immediately.
requesting rules. masterlist.
⋆｡ ˚ mouth like that ²⁵
lowdown ☆ soldier boy spends the ride home pretending he’s not jealous. he lasts approximately three minutes after the van doors open. ride or die ☆ soldier boy x reader ( f ) miles ☆ 4821 ride style ☆ smut !! danger on the trail ☆ explicit sex, rough wall sex, blowjob, possessive behavior, hand over mouth, bruised knuckles, jealousy, soldier boy being demanding, unsafe levels of tension in a crowded safehouse
liv's log ☆ took us +55k words but we're finally going at it!!
𐚁 .ᐟ masterlist ☆ join the taglist ☆ listen to the playlist ☆ support my work ᢉ𐭩
the safehouse is loud before the van doors finish closing.
not the sharp, ugly kind of noise that follows somebody stumbling in with blood down their face or butcher dragging a new disaster over the threshold and calling it useful. this is different. relieved. restless. too many voices moving at once because the mission actually went well and nobody quite trusts that yet.
frenchie is talking before his shoes touch the floor, holding the black electroshock device up between two fingers with the pride of a man returning from war. “she performed beautifully,” he announces.
I actually need dick from dean winchester rn 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 please ughhh I'm actually crawling on the floor and meowing like a cat, need him to stuff me full 😂😂😂 in heat rn😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂
Sigh do you think Sam Winchester sucks the strap?
sam winchester absolutely sucks the strap. he does everything for the strap. he fingers himself for the strap. he douches for the strap. he LOVES the strap. he worships the strap like it’s actually a dick even though its not. bless his little heart
dom dean here!
ꜱᴜʙ!ᴅᴇᴀɴ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ who may seem confident and cocky in public, turns to a mess beneath you when you sit on his face, cunt soaked with arousal and his own saliva. he whimpers as he laps at your pussy desperately, fingers leaving imprints in the soft flesh of your thighs with how tight he was gripping you, teary green eyes fixated on your face as you degrade him and use his face like a fuck toy, your hands almost pulling strands out with how hard you tug at it.
ꜱᴜʙ!ᴅᴇᴀɴ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ who will have you sit on his lap, back snug against his chest, as he snaps his hips into your ass, his arms wrapped tight around your waist and his face fitted in the crook of your neck. there’s a large dark stain where the tip of his cock is tented against the fabric of his boxers, sure to crust after he was done chasing his third orgasm without even being inside of your tight cunt yet.
ꜱᴜʙ!ᴅᴇᴀɴ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ who can’t remember his own name as you ride him with purpose, hands tied to the bedposts with handcuffs, your panties stuffed in his mouth to deafen his pathetic whines (although wasn’t succeeding very well) and toes curling into the bedsheets. he had fucked you stupid plenty of times, always mocking you and smirking, but now, with your hands around his throat and belittling words being spat at him, he knew exactly how you felt. and, god, if he didn’t love it.
ꜱᴜʙ!ᴅᴇᴀɴ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ who will sit on his knees and rut his leaking cock against your foot when you walk through the door, fingers clawing desperately at your jeans as if trying to tear them apart. he would never even think about taking them off himself without your permission, knowing he’d be in big trouble if he did. his drool would leave a damp stain on your jeans, needy whimpers of your name and pants rolling off his tongue with each grind of his hips. if he had a tail, it most definitely would be thumping against the floor erratically.
ꜱᴜʙ!ᴅᴇᴀɴ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ who just wants to be your good little boy and listen to your every word. if you tell him to strip, he’s standing with nothing on but pre-cum smeared on his cock. if you tell him to get on his knees, he’s digging his knees into the carpet and looking up at you with half-lidded eyes. if you call his name, he’s already beside you, eyes fixed on you as he awaited your next command.
ꜱᴜʙ!ᴅᴇᴀɴ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ who is just an attention whore in the body of a sexy man trying to seem cool.
More boyfriendsdad! Dean pls 😍
boyfriends dad dean… blows dust off book.
bfs dad! dean who buys you matching jewelry as a subtle way to ensure you know you’re always his. it’s typically something small, maybe a necklace charm for your birthday or a ring. he doesn’t wear his other half often but if he does it’s tucked in his pocket or hidden under his shirt.
when he fucks you, the necklace dangles in your face and gets tangled with yours. sometimes he has you suck on the pendant, lips wrapped around it as he buries himself deep inside you in the back of the impala, hidden away from the motel you’re staying in so no one sees. you can’t risk it.
dean smiles when he sees the silver charm in your mouth. pure silver, always. never the fake shit that turns your skin green. only the best for his girl.
“tastes good, yeah?” he laughs, hands firm against the leather seats. he rolls his hips up into you, cock pressing deep inside. the metal clangs against itself, your teeth digging into the flesh of it and grinding down at a particular thrust.
he grunts as his hand manages to find its way back to your face, thumbing your lip open gently and watching your tongue swirl. it turns him on so bad every single time you do it, whether it’s a ring around his finger or the glistening chain around his neck.
“keep doin’ that and you’re gonna make me cum, sweets.” he gasps, eyebrows furrowing and eyes squeezing shut. your arms find their way around his neck, dipping his head closer and swallowing him with your tongue. the charm is still in between your teeth. every long stroke of your tongue against his twists it around between your muscles.
dean moans into you, rutting his hips and cumming deep inside you. when he rips his mouth away from you, sweat dripping from his forehead to yours.
“jesus christ,” he exhales, pulling out and sitting back. he lifts you up into his lap. “where’d you learn that?” he murmurs, kissing your temple. you shrug, resting your head onto his shoulder. “dunno. thought you’d like it.”
Jensen Ackles as Russell Shaw | Tracker 3.22
what a beautiful day today
sigh, I wonder what jensen ackles is doing rn
only angels’ have wings
tw. trailer park princess! reader x soldier boy. alcohol use. pillow humping. age gap. reader is of age. southern aesthetic. icky ben! loss of virginity (r). p in v. cowgirl position. creampie. pet names (baby, honey, dolly, sweetheart.) sex under the influence. title from only angels have wings - nicole dollanganger.
the trailer park squatted at the edge of town like a stray dog too tired to bite. rust-buckled trailers leaned crooked beneath a bruised southern sky, porches sagging under ashtrays and dead plants and old men too drunk to remember what year it was. weeds swallowed fence posts whole, cicadas screamed loud enough to drown out the highway. every evening smelled like wet dirt, gasoline and somebody frying meat in reused grease.
dirty and sometimes too rough, but the only home you’ve ever known.
you lived in lot seventeen with your mama’s old floral curtains still hanging in the windows and a busted washing machine sitting permanently in the yard like lawn decor.
and three trailers down in lot twenty, lived ben.
nobody called him soldier boy around here. not unless they were stupid. to everyone he was just ben- the broad-shouldered veteran with mirrored aviators, cigarettes tucked into the sleeve of his white T-shirt and enough violence simmering under his skin to make stray dogs avoid his porch.
he’d arrived six months ago in a black pickup with new york plates and a duffel bag that looked heavy enough to carry bodies. folks whispered, said he killed a man in pure rage. said the government was after him. said he wasn’t right in the head.
you mostly noticed how lonely he looked.
sometimes late at night you’d see him sitting shirtless on his trailer steps under the jaundiced porchlight, smoke curling around him while old songs from before your time crackled from a radio inside. almost like he was waiting for something that would never come back.
one afternoon he caught you snooping out the window, your fingers gently folding the curtains back and he smiled. whistled and held up his lit joint like an offering, frowned when you cowered back inside with wild thoughts and a pillow between your legs, pink panty clad pussy grinding against the plush while thinking about him.
the first time he spoke to you, you nearly dropped your groceries.
“hey, dolly.”
you froze halfway up your porch steps, clutching a paper sack full of canned beans and bread. ben leaned against the railing of his trailer porch, beer bottle dangling from two fingers.
“ya’ got a second?”
you glanced around like maybe he meant somebody else but there was nobody else.
your cheeks went hot as you crossed the dirt path between the trailers slowly, flip-flops crunching over gravel. up close he smelled like old Spice and cigarette smoke and something metallic underneath. blood maybe. or motor oil.
ben looked you over in that lazy dangerous way older men did around town sometimes- except somehow meaner and softer all at once.
“you livin’ at seventeen, right?”
you nodded.
he tilted an empty beer bottle toward you.
“need a favor.”
you stomach fluttered nervously, what could ben possibly need from you?
“…what kind?”
“the gas station down the road. he reached into his pockets pulling out crumpled bills. “need’a beer.”
you blinked, boots nervously scuffing against the dusty road. “they won’t sell it to me…”
“sure they will.” he held the money out. “ya’ got one of those faces.”
“what’s that suppose to mean?”
“innocent, young. just flash em a bit a cleavage’ they’ll serve ya.” he said it like it amused him, no hesitation at how inappropriate his words may be.
mama always warned you about men like ben. men with charm sharpened into weapons. men who smiled like they’d already survived the electric chair once before. you should’ve said no. its inappropriate and illegal.
but you’d been lonely yourself for so long that sometimes loneliness made bad ideas feel holy.
so you took the money.
the corner store sat beside an abandoned car wash twenty minutes away on foot. neon faulty beer signs buzzed in the windows. old men crowded around scratch cards whistling when you walked past, cleavage on show just like ben had said.
you bought the cheapest six-pack they had and the cashier barely looked you in the eye. on the way back you didn’t pull your top back into place, you wanted ben to see what you did just for him.
“took your sweet time.” he called.
you held up the plastic bag. “they only had warm ones..”
“tragic.”
he stood and took the bag from your hand. his bruised knuckle velvet fingers brushed yours, eyes trailing down your body, lingering at your chest.
your heartbeat stumbled.
he pulled a beer free and cracked it open against the railing, liquid sputtering down his fingers.
“you want one?”
“I’m not really supposed to drink..”
he barked a laugh. “jesus, kid.” then he looked at you again, slower this time. “i aint’ gonna ask again.”
you should’ve walked home then. instead you made your way up his steps, boots clanking against the wood taking a seat next to ben.
ben laughed when you coughed after the first sip.
not a mean laugh. low and rough and surprised, like he hadn’t expected anything genuinely sweet all week.
“easy there, sweetheart.” he leaned back in the rusted lawn chair, boots kicked up on the porch railing. “beer ain’t’ supposed to be fought hand-to-hand.”
you wiped your mouth quickly, embarrassed. the can felt ice-cold in your hands, condensation dripping over your chipped polished nails.
“it tastes awful.”
the bitterness made your face scrunch up. ben smirked around his cigarette.
“jesus’ ya really never drank before?”
you shook your head.
“not even at parties?”
“i- i don’t really get invited places…”
the words slipped out before you meant them to. bens expression shifted into something- not pity but worse somehow. like he understood too well.
“you serious?”
you shrugged staring into the can. “people around here think I’m.. weird.”
“that’ so?”
“mama says I’m too soft.”
ben huffed smoke into the humid night air. “ya’ mama’s probably right.”
you glanced at him, fingers tight around the metal.
“but” he added, “ain’t the worst thing to be.”
the beer made everything warmer after a while. your cheeks tingled. your limbs felt floaty and loose, porchlight glowing syrupy gold around the edges.
ben watched you carefully.
“you okay?”
“mhmm..”
“ya’ sure?”
you giggled unexpectedly at the seriousness in his voice. “think my head’s fuzzy.”
“that’ll happen.”
he stood then, broad and imposing even in the dim light and crushed his cigarette beneath his boot.
“cmon’ dolly.”
you blinked up at him, “where?”
“inside. before mosquitoes carry you off.”
bens hand closed around your elbow as you stood before you could stumble. the touch sent a strange nervous flutter through your chest.
“tsk. ya’ lightweight.” he muttered.
“sorry..”
“s’ alright, sweetie.”
the rusted door of the double-wide groaned as ben pulled it open, the stale scent of cheap beer and unwashed denim washing out into the humid evening. the inside was dim, a single yellow lamp casting long shadows over a sagging couch, empty bottles scattered. He kicked the door shut behind you, the latch clicking loud in the sudden silence.
his eyes narrowed, hands still holding on your hips as you looked up at him nervously.
“yknow why i invited you here, dont you smart girl?” he mumbled.
you nodded breathe heavy lingering with his.
“say it.”
“b-because you want me… and i want you..” you whispered.
“thats right. ya gonna’ let me pop that cherry right here on my couch.” he let go of your chin and stepped back, pussy fluttering at his words.
your hands shook as you fumbled with the buttons of your blouse from the excitement that ben could actually like someone like you. he watched patient as a cat, his eyes tracing every inch of skin you revealed- your collarbone, the curve of your breasts in their cotton bra, the trembling line of your belly as you pushed your shorts down your thighs. when you stood before him in nothing but panties and bra he let out a low whistle.
“sweet’ jesus.” he muttered, his hand moving to the front of his jeans, palming the obvious bulge straining the denim. “turn around let me see that peach.”
you obeyed turning slowly, your hands clasped behind your back. his palm landed flat on your bare hip then slid down, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass cheek. he squeezed hard enough to make you gasp
“perfect body, honey.” he breathed. “now get on the couch for me okay?”
you climbed onto the worn cushion, knees sinking into the ancient foam as you faced him. he unbuckled his belt with deliberate slowness, watching your tongue peeking out between your lips like a puppy to a bone. He didn’t bother pulling his jeans off- just shoved them down enough to free his cock. springing up thick and heavy, the head flushed with a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip.
“this is what’s gonna fill that tight little cunt.”. he said, wrapping his fist around the shaft, giving it a slow stroke.
“i-its big..” you mumbled innocently.
“thats okay honey, feel better snugged in that little hole.” he settled onto the couch, back against the armrest and pulled you onto his lap. your thighs straddled his hips, the rough denim of his jeans rasping against your sensitive inner thighs. his cock pressed against your belly hot and hard. he reached between you hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tore them off with one sharp tug.
“no need for those..” he grunted tossing them aside.
his hand slid down, fingers finding your pussy. they were rough and calloused, knowing exactly where to press. he circled your clit with his thumb, laughing as some of your juices sputtered onto his hand.
“look at you..” he murmured, his eyes dark and hungry. “so wet already. you were made for this weren’t you? made to take my cock.”
you whined deep in your throat, hands digging into his shoulders. “mmmf- mhm.”
he lined himself up, the fat head of his cock nudging your slick folds. you felt the pressure, the stretch and you braced yourself.
“ready, dolly? say ya want it.”
“i want it.” you whispered, voice trembling but sure.
he smiled and then he thrust up. the pain was sharp, a burning stretch that stole your breath. you whined out, your nails digging into his skin. he held your hips stilling you, letting you adjust.
“shh.. take it slow.” he said with a voice surprisingly gentle. “first time always hurts.”
you nodded tears pricking your eyes. he stayed still with just the tip buried inside you until you relaxed. then he slid deeper inch by inch until he was fully seated, his balls pressed against your ass.
“fuck- yeah..” he groaned, his eyes half-closed. “feel that? your so tight. so fuckin’ tight.”
he gave you a moment to breathe then he began to move—a slow deep grind that rocked your whole body. his hands found your hips, guiding you into a rhythm. up and down, your pussy gripping him sliding down his length. each stroke sent fresh waves of sensation through your core, the pain melting into a deep aching pleasure.
“thaaats it..” he encouraged. “ride me. show me what you got.”
you found your pace, your body moving instinctively, your breasts bouncing in front of his face. he leaned forward taking one nipple into his mouth sucking hard, his beard grazing the sensitive peak. you moaned with your hips moving faster, the friction building into something urgent desperate.
“i-im close i think..! you gasped though you barely understood what that meant.
“good job dolly- cream on my dick..”
his thumb found your clit again rubbing in tight circles and that was it. the orgasm crashed over you like a wave your whole body tensing, your pussy clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. he groaned his hips thrusting up chasing your pussy burying himself deep as he spilled inside you hot, thick filling you up.
you collapsed against his chest, breathless your skin slick with sweat. he wrapped an arm around you holding you there, his cock still twitching inside you.
“good job, honey. did so good just f’me.”.
“j-just for you ben..” you mumbled breathlessly and full, letting yourself sink into his warmth.
SAM WINCHESTER IN EVERY SPN EPISODE (68/327)
.𖥔݁˖⚠︎ big boy samᵎᵎ .𖥔˖ᐟ⋆。
imagine he’s reading you lore like a bedtime story to help you fall asleep…
plsplsplsplspls
i spent two hours crying about how beautiful jared padalecki is and i think that sums me up as a person
