i will not accept hate speech of any kind whether it is homophobia, racism, bullying or any kind of discrimination.
i won't write requests involving hate speech, incest, feces, piss, pedophilia, etc.
i only write fem!reader as that is what i'm most comfortable with.
who i write for rn: jack abbot, frank langdon, ilya rozanov, rick grimes, daryl dixon, dean winchester and sam winchester.
i do not own twd, supernatural, the pitt nor hr all ownership goes to the writers and producers of the shows, i do not own any of the characters/story lines that are written or included in these shows.
→ about me
my name is elba, but you can call me el ;)
I'm a twenty-one-year-old uni student from spain.
do not be fooled by this post's appearance, I actually like gore and angst and smut.
medical dramas and apocalyptic shows feed my soul. if you cannot find me I'm probably watching twd or supernatural or playing tlou :)
Hi there!! I love your writing so muchh!!! Anyways, I was wondering if you could do Dean x shy!Reader where reader like getting called a nerd? Like maybe at first she’s telling him about one of her interests and he calls her a nerd and he see that it does something to her. I’d like some soft smut, maybe reader doesn’t have much experience in bed, and is a little scared to try stuff with Dean. Sorry if that last part was a little confusing, and feel free to ignore this is you want!! 💖
♡⸝⸝ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒏'𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒅,
summary,, dean calls you a nerd by accident. he doesn't know how much that turns you on.
word count,, 1,862
pairing,, dean winchester x shy!reader (f)
tags/genre,, smut, soft smut, name-calling (gentle), missionary, p in v, inexperienced, shyness & vulnerability
i hope this is okay!! i kinda went ham with it 😆
You don’t mean to ramble.
It just happens.
Dean’s at the bunker table, boots propped up, beer dangling from his fingers while you sit cross-legged on one of the chairs, hands moving as you talk. You’d only meant to answer his question. One question. Now you’re explaining the entire myth arc of your favourite fantasy series like you’re defending a thesis.
"And the reason the sigil works," you say, leaning forward, "is because it’s based on old Sumerian binding magic, but the author twisted it so it draws from celestial energy instead of infernal—"
Dean blinks at you slowly.
You stop.
Heat creeps up your neck. "Sorry. I know that’s… a lot."
He lowers his beer, studying you like you’re the interesting one in the room. "Nah," he says easily. "I’m just impressed you remember all that."
You shrug, suddenly fascinated with the table. "It’s not that impressive. I just… like it."
There’s a beat of quiet. You can feel his eyes on you.
Then he smirks.
"You’re such a nerd."
It’s playful. Light. Teasing.
But the word hits you somewhere low and electric.
You freeze.
Dean notices immediately.
Your fingers curl into your sleeves. Your throat feels dry. "I—" You laugh softly, nervous. "Yeah. I guess I am."
He tilts his head.
Your reaction isn’t embarrassment exactly. It’s something softer. Shyer. The way your lashes dip. The way your knees press together unconsciously.
Dean’s expression shifts. He leans forward, boots hitting the floor with a dull thud.
"Oh," he says quietly.
Your heart stutters. "Oh?"
He studies you like he’s putting together a puzzle. His voice drops low. Warm. "You liked that."
Your pulse jumps so hard you feel it in your fingertips. "I—no."
He arches a brow. "No?"
You swallow. You’ve never been good at this. Flirting feels like walking on thin ice. You’re always half afraid it’ll crack.
"I just—" You twist your hands together. "It’s… fine."
Dean stands.
He doesn’t crowd you. Doesn’t loom. He just steps closer until you can smell leather and soap and something that’s just him.
"You don’t have to pretend," he murmurs.
Your breath turns shallow.
He reaches out slowly—giving you time to move away—but you don’t. His knuckles brush your chin, tilting your face up just enough that you have to look at him.
"You’re a nerd," he repeats, softer this time.
Your lips part before you can stop them.
There it is again—that flicker in your stomach. That warmth pooling low. It’s humiliating how much you feel from one word.
Dean’s eyes darken, not predatory or smug. Curious. Almost tender.
"Hey," he says gently. "You’re okay."
"I know," you whisper.
"Do you?"
You nod, but it’s small.
He studies you for another long second, then lets his hand fall. Not pulling away entirely. Just enough space to breathe.
"You ever had someone call you that like it was a compliment?" he asks.
You shake your head.
"Yeah. Figured."
His jaw tightens slightly, like he doesn’t love that answer. You shrug, trying to brush it off. "It’s just a word."
"Yeah," he says. "But the way you reacted? That wasn’t just a word."
Your face burns.
Dean steps closer again, slower this time. His hand settles at your waist, light. Testing. You stiffen for half a second before forcing yourself to relax.
He notices that too.
"You nervous?" he asks quietly.
"A little."
"Of me?"
You hesitate.
"Not of you," you admit. "Just… of this."
His thumb brushes small circles against your side, absent-minded. Comforting.
"You don’t have to be scared," he says. "I’m not gonna push you anywhere you don’t wanna go."
Your chest tightens. That’s the thing. You do want to go somewhere. You just don’t know how far you can handle.
"I don’t have a lot of… experience," you confess, barely audible.
Dean’s expression doesn’t change in the way you fear. No teasing. No surprise.
"Okay," he says simply.
You blink. "Okay?"
He smiles softly. "That’s not a problem."
You search his face for mockery and find none. Just patience.
"I don’t really know what I’m doing," you add, because honesty feels safer than pretending.
Dean huffs a quiet laugh. "Sweetheart, nobody knows what they’re doing. They just act confident."
You huff out a nervous breath.
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your cheek. The touch makes you shiver.
"You liked being called a nerd," he says again, almost thoughtful.
Your lips press together.
"Yeah," you admit.
His smile deepens.
"Good," he murmurs. "Because I think it’s kinda hot."
Your knees nearly give out.
He steadies you without making a show of it, hands warm at your hips.
"You get all passionate," he continues softly. "Eyes light up. You forget to be shy for a minute." His thumb traces the edge of your sweater. "That’s my favourite part."
Your lips meet his, tentative at first. You’re stiff for a heartbeat, unsure where to put your hands, how much pressure is right. He notices immediately and adjusts, keeping the kiss soft. Unhurried. Letting you set the pace.
You let him pull your sweater over your head, suddenly self-conscious in just your bra. But the way he looks at you? Like you're something precious? It quiets the anxious voice in your head.
"Beautiful," he says again, and you believe him.
His hands are warm on your bare skin as he guides you backward. Your lower back hits the edge of the bunker table—the same one where he'd been sitting with his boots propped up earlier. He reaches behind you with one arm, sweeping books and papers aside without breaking eye contact. They scatter across the floor with soft thuds, but neither of you care.
He kisses you again, slow and sweet, as his fingers work the clasp of your bra. It falls away and he pauses, giving you a moment. When you don't pull away, he cups your breasts gently, thumbs brushing over your nipples with feather-light touches.
"Dean," you breathe, not sure what you're asking for.
"I've got you," he promises. "We'll go slow."
His hands grip your waist carefully and he lifts you onto the table. The wood is cool against your thighs as he steps between your legs. He kisses down your neck, your collarbone, before pressing soft kisses to the curve of your breast. When he takes one nipple into his mouth, the warmth makes you gasp softly, fingers finding his hair. He's gentle and attentive, watching your reactions.
His hand slides down your stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans. He pauses, looking up at you.
"Still okay?"
"Yes," you manage, though your heart is racing. "Please."
He unbuttons your jeans slowly, giving you time to change your mind. You lift your hips to help him slide them off along with your underwear, and suddenly you're completely bare on the table. The vulnerability makes your breath catch, but the way he touches you reverently, carefully, makes you feel safe.
"So beautiful," he murmurs, fingers trailing up your inner thigh, giving you time to adjust.
When he touches you between your legs, you gasp at the newness of it. You're already wet, and he makes a soft sound of appreciation. His fingers explore gently, carefully, finding your clit and circling it with tender pressure.
"Dean—" Your voice is shaky.
"Just feel it, sweetheart. Tell me what feels good."
He works you slowly, paying attention to every small sound you make, every shift of your body. When he slides one finger inside you, he goes carefully, watching your face. The stretch is new, and he holds still, letting you adjust.
"Okay?" he asks softly.
You nod, and he begins to move, gentle and patient. When he adds a second finger, he goes even slower, his thumb still circling your clit with soft touches. The pleasure builds gradually, a warm glow spreading through you.
"I think... I think I need you," you manage to say, feeling brave.
"You sure?" He kisses you softly. "There's no rush."
"I'm sure."
He withdraws his hand carefully and stands, unbuttoning his jeans. Your breath catches at the sight of him—his cock hard and thick, and suddenly the reality of what's about to happen makes your heart pound. He retrieves a condom from his wallet, rolling it on with practiced ease before returning to you. He pulls you closer to the edge of the table, positioning himself between your thighs. One hand braces on the table beside your hip while the other guides himself to your entrance.
"You tell me if anything hurts, okay? We'll go as slow as you need."
You nod, trying to breathe steadily.
He lines himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. Slowly—so slowly—he begins to push inside. The stretch is intense, unfamiliar, and you grip his shoulders.
"Breathe," he murmurs, holding completely still. "Just breathe, sweetheart."
You do, and gradually your body adjusts to the feeling. He sinks a little deeper, then pauses again, giving you time. It takes several long moments before he's fully inside you, and the fullness is overwhelming in a way that makes your eyes sting.
"You okay?" His voice is strained with the effort of holding still.
"Yeah," you whisper. "You can... you can move."
He does, pulling out slowly before sliding back in with careful, gentle movements. The friction is strange at first, then gradually becomes something warmer, something that makes you sigh softly. He sets a tender rhythm, each movement deliberate and unhurried. His eyes never leave yours, and the connection makes you feel safe, cared for.
"You're doing so good," he breathes. "So perfect."
Your hands slide down his back, feeling his muscles flex with each careful thrust. The pleasure builds slowly, a gentle warmth spreading through you. When he shifts his angle slightly, it feels even better, and you make a soft sound.
"There?" he asks gently, and you nod.
He reaches between your bodies, fingers finding your clit with the same tender touches as before. The combination of sensations—him moving inside you, and his fingers working gently—makes the warmth build into something more.
Your thighs start to tremble slightly, pleasure building in soft waves.
"Dean, I think—"
"I've got you," he murmurs. "Just let it happen, sweetheart. I've got you."
His words, his gentle touch, the feeling of him moving carefully inside you—it all comes together. Your climax rolls through you in gentle waves, making you tighten around him with a soft cry. He groans quietly, his rhythm faltering as he follows you over the edge, pulsing inside you.
He leans forward carefully, both hands braced on the table on either side of you, both of you breathing hard. After a moment, he withdraws slowly, mindful of your sensitivity, and disposes of the condom before helping you sit up. He pulls you against his chest, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
"You okay?" he asks softly. "How do you feel?"
You nod against his skin, feeling safe and cared for. "More than okay." You laugh softly. "That was... thank you for being so gentle."
He smiles, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. "Always. You were perfect."
smut's fun. have you ever read soul crushing, heart aching, head throbbing comfort that makes your eyes burn out of your head to the point where you just have to crawl into a ball because your inner child feels so safe? haha... yeah smuts fun.
hii! i was wondering if i could request a Dean Winchester x reader with an established relationship, and i had this prompt in my head [could possibly be used as future inspo's for you fics too if you'd like :>]
basically, the relationship between them is pretty new, like only a month or two new, and reader has claustrophobia, but never told him or Sam.
and for a case, they have to go into an elevator, which is fine, and reader seems to do a good job at pretending it doesnt freak them out that they're in a convined space (elevator is pretty tiny, even for elevator standarts)
but then it suddenly stays still, and gets stuck bc of electrical issues.
so now they're stuck in an elevator for who knows how long, and reader tries their best to stay calm, but Dean knows better and now that the elevator is staying still he notices the microexpressions, the panic, the fear.
and its just super fluffy with him helping reader deal with it untill the elevator is back on track
thanks! and have a great day!
i lovee all your requests sm, especially bc they challenge me to write new things <33 i rlly like how this turned out so i hope u do to !
dean winchester / claustrophobic!reader
a/n: i have no personal experience with claustrophobia but i researched it as much as i could. however sorry if it still sounds unrealistic !
"can we even fit in there?" dean asked dubiously, clearly unimpressed at the elevator that stood before you. "i mean, this has gotta be a health hazard, man, cause what is this?" he banged the doors as he stepped inside.
"it's fine, dean, stop being dramatic." you rolled your eyes, trying to fight the wave of panic (or was that vomit?) rising up inside you.
not letting yourself think about it any further, you stepped in after dean. at first, you thought it was just your claustrophobia whispering how this elevator looked like a death trap. but then your (wonderful, by the way) boyfriend dean had pointed it out himself, and wasn't that just awesome?
you weren't irritated at him, but at the situation itself. you and dean had only been dating for a month, and definitely hadn't reached the 'divulge your deepest fears and secrets to each other' stage.
you could tell dean about your claustrophobia now, but what else was there to do? the stairs in this building had been destroyed by the vampires you knew nested on the top floor.
in conclusion, the elevator was the only way.
determined, you punched the button to the 17th floor. this was fine.
dean prattled on about the job. something about 4 vampires, killing 3 residents until the others had to evacuate...
suddenly, the elevator groaned to a stop, on the 10th floor. you hit the buttons again. god, it had been going so well.
"what happened?" you asked. the lights began to flicker. "is there a ghost here, too?"
both of you scanned the area as best as you could, having to shuffle around awkwardly to look at the whole area.
"nah," dean finally said. "probably just electrical issues."
you sighed. "it's gonna be humiliating calling sam to rescue us."
"tell me about it." dean rolled his eyes, even as he dialed his brother's number. "yeah, sammy, [name] and i got into a bit of a situation... no, dumbass, we're not dying-"
you forced a laugh at the boy's banter, even as the walls seemed to be closing in on you. breathe in and out, you chanted internally.
"-if you could just come get us..." dean glanced at you, pausing in surprise for a second. "hey, sammy, i gotta go, just get here as quick as you can, would ya?" he hung up, tucking his phone back into his pocket. you were too focused on keeping your emotions in check to notice dean had become alerted to your subtle panic, and was now giving you his full attention.
"you okay, [name]?" he asked.
you forced a teasing grin. "fine, just wishing i had some fresh air to get away from your stink."
"that's a smooth evasion if i've ever heard one, but it ain't gonna work on me, hot stuff." he wiped away a miniscule bead of sweat from your forehead. "literally."
you closed your eyes. he had clocked you - no point in keeping up the act now, even if it was embarrassing.
"can i touch you?"
you nodded. he put an arm around your shoulder, his other hand lightly grasping yours. he guided it to his chest where his heart was. "you feel my heartbeat?"
you murmured an affirmation.
"alright, it quickened a bit there, but that's the effect you have on me." he winked. "how fast is it? does it match the.. what was it, bpm, of any song?"
you shook your head at him in confusion. "what?"
"answer the question, [name]." he rolled his eyes, flushing slightly.
you furrowed your brow as you thought. "wanted dead or alive, bon jovi?"
he smirked. "awh, that's awesome. now you get to bear witness to my rendition of it."
that alone was so unexpected it startled a laugh out of you. "excuse me?"
he began swaying, jostling you in the process. "you heard me. i'm a cowboy, on a steel horse i riiide." he spun around, although it was more of an awkward twirl. "i'm wantedddd..." he held out both hands to you, tugging you close when you took them. "dead or aliiiveeee!"
you snorted loudly at his attempt to hold the last note, and yelped in surprise when the elevator lurched back into movement. dean's hug tightened, steadying you.
"i must be one hell of a singer if that was all it took to get the elevator sorted," he remarked, looking hilariously proud of himself.
"that's one way to put it." your previous panic and embarrassment had dissipated, leaving only gratitude for your boyfriend. "thanks."
he kissed you briefly. "no problem. but can you imagine the look on sammy's face when he gets here and we don't need help anymore? ha, imagine that!"
WORD COUNT : 4.2kA/N : title from a song by the darkness. this fills the square amnesia for my @jacklesversebingo card. I’m sorry yall, I like cliffhangers 😔 (but there’s a part two coming, yay!)
You don’t remember ever waking up to a more warm and pleasant morning.
Usually, you woke up after sleeping however many hours you could have, and always felt like it wasn’t enough. Your eyes burned with sleepiness, your body felt heavy with fatigue, and your mind was clouded with the darkness of unconsciousness.
Not this morning.
You felt light and warm, like the vapour of your too-hot shower. Your bed was soft and your sheets smelled of sweet and flowery fabric softener.
You opened your eyes to a room blanketed in complete darkness. There was not a window in sight for sunlight to slither into and your stomach sank slightly when you realised that you didn’t know where you were. Or how you got to where you were now.
Your nakedness beneath soft, thin sheets made you feel vulnerable. You pulled the sheets up your body and started to get out of bed, only for the sheets to catch on something. No, on someone. A man who groaned gravelly and slightly tugged the sheets away from you.
Your eyes widened, your blood went cold with fear, and your body became hot with adrenaline. You froze as you thought of what to do and looked around to see if you could make any shapes while the darkness smothered you.
“Come back to bed, sweetheart,” he pleaded lazily, his voice thick with sleep making your skin prickle. He gave the blanket a lazy tug to encourage you, but you ignored him. You didn’t know him, the audacity. You simply released the blanket and blindly made your way around the room for clothes that you must have left somewhere.
You heard him sigh tiredly, the blankets rustled when he shifted, and the room lit up with the quiet click of a lamp’s switch and you yelped when you saw him, equally naked, in the bed. He sat up in alarm and looked around, before just staring at you in confusion.
His hair was a mess and he looked tired… but hot. His arms were thick and strong. His shoulders were broad and a familiar tattoo rested above his heart, beneath his collarbone. He wasn’t ripped like someone who was obsessed with going to the gym and dieting. He was so damn fine. The thin blankets came lower down his hips when he sat up inquisitively. His stomach became taut and you could see the faint lines of his abs. At least you slept with someone hot and not some creep. Well… he could still be a creep.
“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” He moved the blankets from his hips, subsequently flashing you his dick, when he began to get up and make his way to you.
“No, stop!” You shouted, covering your eyes before deciding to cover yourself instead. He instantly obeyed and froze on the spot, bewildered. “Cover your eyes,” you demanded exasperatedly.
“What? Why?” He asked, but he still covered his eyes with his hand. But who could blame you for quickly stealing a glance at his very pretty cock? “Did you start your period? You’re not due for another two weeks.” You blinked at him, astonished and disoriented.
“Uhhh, what? How do you even know that, dude?” You flushed with embarrassment.
“Dude?” He lowered his hand to give you an irritated look. The only reason you didn’t shout at him to look away was that he wasn’t staring at you like you were a piece of cake. “It’s way too early for jokes.” He shook his head at you and turned around to sift through the tall dresser behind him. Your eyes hesitantly dropped to his perky ass and you forced yourself to look away before he turned to you.
Forgive me. I am just human.
“Where’s my damned clothes?” You asked, leaning forward over the bed to drag the blanket towards yourself to cover up. He turned with a deadpan expression while he slipped his boxers up to his hips. But when you lifted your brows expectantly, he rolled his eyes at you and smiled sarcastically, flourishing his arms in front of the dresser.
He was kind enough to pull out a black shirt that looked like it was his, then pink women's underwear, and finally some colourfully striped socks. He handed them to you, but you backed away.
“No, I’m not wearing that,” you refused, looking disgustedly at the cotton underwear and the small socks.
“It’s yours,” he told you flatly.
“What do you mean it’s mine?”
He blinked at you boredly and dropped the clothes on the bed to cross his arms across his very sexy broad chest. “Alright. How long are you gonna keep this up?”
“I… uh, what?”
He smiled slowly and climbed up on the bed to get closer to you. Once he did, he reached for your waist and tugged you forward. Your heart thudded heavily in your chest and you clutched the blanket closer to your breasts. Even standing on his knees in the bed, he was taller than you.
“What game are you playin’ at, hmm?” He asked seductively, gently squeezing your side. Your lips parted slightly and your heart raced.
You studied his face, captivated by his beauty. The crinkles at the corner of his verdant eyes called to you when he smiled down at you. You could see he was doing the same. His eyes followed a path along your face until they landed on your lips. You couldn’t help following the same path on his own with your eyes. After letting your eyes drift across the curve of his freckled nose, the line of his jaw, and the attractive stubble, your eyes fell to his pillowy lips.
His hand moved to your jaw. He looked playful and your heart sped up the longer he admired you. His calloused hand gently slid up your jawline to tangle his fingers in your hair until finally, he dipped down and kissed you. His lips felt soft against your slightly-chapped lips, but he didn’t seem to mind.
His mouth moved lazily, yet expertly over yours. Your stomach fluttered and your breath hitched. As simple as it was, it felt amazing. His lips on yours sent waves of need and excitement through your body, electrifying your skin.
He clouded your mind with his kiss and your mouth slowly fell open. He cupped the back of your head in his hand and tilted his head, slowly becoming more firm and needy. Your hand released the sheet from your body and your hands found their way into his soft brown hair. He hummed lowly in appreciation and splayed his free hand across the bare skin of your back.
He carefully removed his hand from your hair, then you felt his hands move to the back of your thighs. He broke the kiss momentarily, his breath against your swollen lips made you dizzy as he hoisted you up. You clung to him, dazed and aroused, and he carefully dropped you into the bed again.
His knees parted your legs. You could feel your arousal dripping down as you were exposed to the room’s cool air. He almost instantly pressed his hips to your wet core. You could feel the warmth of his hard cock against your pulsing clit. You moaned softly and he gave you a charming smile that heated your cheeks in response.
He leaned down to kiss you again. This time, his tongue pushed past your lips. The warmth and wetness of his saliva moved against your tongue. He did it as if he’d done a thousand times to you—shamelessly, with craving.
His lips moved passionately, firmly against yours. His tongue brushed over yours needily, lovingly. He tasted you with hunger and pulled away with heavy breaths, ignoring the string of spit connecting your lips to his.
He leaned forward again, except this time—when you closed your eyes—you felt his lips brush against your cheeks. His warm breath tickled your neck and ear, so shivers trickled through your body.
You squirmed beneath him and wiggled your hips longingly.
“I’m gonna make you come so hard on my tongue, baby,” he whispered. You cursed softly. Your cunt clenched with excitement at the thought of him doing to your pussy, what he’d done to your mouth. You almost didn’t feel him press wet kisses down your neck until he sucked gently at your pulse.
He moved down your body slowly. Used his teeth, tongue, and lips on your flesh to hold you in his spell. He did it so precisely, fanning the embers to create a fire of desire that overwhelmed your body with lust.
His lips brushed against your nipple and your heart lurched. Heat pooled between your legs, followed by a warm wetness that you somehow knew would boost his ego.
“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” he whispered against your breast before gently sinking his teeth around your nipple. His fingers pinched the other. How he expected you to respond was unclear as he teased your sensitive skin with his expert tongue and strummed at your flesh like a professional guitarist.
“How did I end up here?” You replied quietly, carding your fingers through his short hair. He chuckled softly at your response, moved on from one breast to the other. His saliva on your abandoned nipple enhanced the coldness of the room, causing your skin to tingle.
His laugh was a whole other thing. Hot and deep. Everything about him seemed to be that way. Hot and deep.
His hand sneaked down to your ribs, your stomach, and stayed there. Warm, heavy, huge, and calloused. One hell of a man. You bet he could choke you with one hand.
You moaned softly at the thought and squeezed his sides with your thighs in attempts to alleviate your desire. It was futile, but you had a feeling that’s how he wanted you. He smirked against your breast, you could feel the stretch of a smile on his sinful lips, and he finally moved on.
“You’re so desperate today, aren’t ya?” Amusement seeped into his voice, but there was nothing amusing about the way his hand finally moved between your legs. He slid his middle finger through your folds, slowly teasing your clit with ghostly touches. “Always so wet, baby, fuck,” he moaned against your hipbone.
“Please,” you whined, clutching his hair tighter. He sucked a lavender mark on your hips and slid his lips down to your pelvis.
“Yeah?” He teased with a smirk. You loosened your grip on his hair, just slightly. His green eyes sparkled up at you, but all you could really focus on was his finger turning to two fingers that quickly dipped into your entrance to gather your excessive slick. “Fuck.” Oh, God. No one should sound so hot saying that word, but your stomach seemed to flip excitedly when it sounded so pleased. “Look at that, sweetheart. You’re soaked, it’s gonna be so easy for me to fuck you.”
“Jesus Christ,” you whispered, your toes curled with excitement.
He parted your folds with his fingers and lowered himself to level his mouth with your dripping cunt. His warm breath on your wet heat made you squirm and your legs shamelessly opened wider for him. The Pied Piper of sex.
His eyes fluttered shut when he kissed your clit. You don’t think anyone’s ever done that to you before. To be fair, you can’t remember much and you don’t know if it’s because of his intoxicating sensuality or because of something much more serious. Quite frankly, you didn’t care as he continued to kiss you down to your clenching entrance with hums of appreciation vibrating through your desperate core.
“Please,” you laughed breathily, weakly attempting to pull his face closer between your legs. He perked up even more at that, and flicked his tongue against your clit, perfectly striking a nerve like a chord that resonated through your entire body and made you quiver.
He flattened his tongue from your aching pussy to your clit, slowly and loudly savouring the taste of your arousal on his tongue. He did it over and over before settling for lapping at your entrance where your arousal puddled. His moans were husky and praising.
You gently weaved your fingers through his hair and panted heavily. His nose nudged at your pulsing clit and his tongue pushed into your fluttering pussy.
“Fuck, please,” you whimpered, tightening your grip on the hair at the top of his head. He hummed against your core and roughly licked his way up to your clit. Quick flicks of his tongue on your clit made you writhe with pleasure. Curses slipped from your lips and all you could think about was the sensation of how wet your pussy was with his spit and how close to coming you were again.
You felt one of his fingers slowly push inside your cunt. He worked you open carefully with one thick finger plunged deep inside you and simultaneously began to suck on your clit. Your body became tense; you were right on the edge of your orgasm, but he moved away from your aching cunt to quickly kiss his way up your flushed body, to reach your lips.
“I wanna come,” you pleaded quietly, staring profoundly into his greedy eyes.
He chuckled playfully at you and slowly pushed a second finger inside you. His breath fanned over your lips and you traced the slick of your pussy on his smug mouth with your eyes. He stroked your walls slowly, skilfully pressing the pads of his fingers into the sensitive depths of your cunt. You clamped down in desperation for him to press over and over into your g-spot, but he wasn’t merciful. He wanted you to feel the length of his fingers moving deeply inside you.
“Say my name,” he murmured against your lips. You squeezed his hips with your knees as you squirmed restlessly. Again, he made you delirious with pleasure after a request so you could do anything but properly think. He angled his fingers into that delicious spot inside you, but the buildup of your climax was as torturously slow as the stroke of his fingers.
“Your name?” You gasped mindlessly, closing your eyes to focus on feeling him being in all the right places. His lips brushed against yours, ignited your body like a spark to hot-wire a car. His thumb pressed gently into your clit and he slowly drew circles.
“Dean,” he whispered bewitchingly against your lips. You felt his arm press into the pillow beside your head and he tenderly brushed your hair away from your neck.
“Dean,” you moaned—begged, heart hammering in your chest at his tenderness. His response was instant, with his lips pressed against yours, numbing your mind once more, but a third finger slid into your pussy so you nearly toppled off the edge again. After a few thrusts that left you moaning wantonly against Dean’s mouth, his fingers disappeared from inside you. “God,” you cursed in irritation.
Soon, the entirety of his warmth was gone from your body. His bruising kiss left you breathless and thoughtless, but you managed to open your eyes to watch him lower his boxers with his thumb hooked at the stretchy waistband—leaving himself completely bare again.
Dean bit his lip as he stroked his cock with his fingers coated in your slick. He seemed more than happy to have you watch. And you were more than happy with staring at the girth and length of him in his hand. His cock was pretty, beautiful even—if you could even imagine. Throbbing. Leaking precum at the tip so your mouth watered for a lewd long moment. You bit your lip and wondered what he tasted like—hopefully as good as he looked, how he’d fuck your mouth if you asked him to.
The sight of him like this made your arousal skyrocket.
“What do you want, sweetheart?” He asked breathlessly, slowly making his way closer between your legs.
The thought of his cock stretching you out instantly drove you crazy.
Once he was close enough, he leaned over you again with his arm beside your head again. He slid his hot cock through your folds and your breath caught in your throat. He moaned softly. You tore your eyes from where he coated you in his precum repeatedly.
“I want you… inside me,” you replied bashfully, heat flared up to your ears and you squirmed involuntarily—desperate to be fucked as you ruined the sheets beneath you with your slick. But over and over he teased your clit with slippery circles of his tip that began to build your resolve. He wasn’t going to let you finish and you knew it.
“Which part of me?” Of course he’d do that.
You became frustrated quickly and remained quiet to think of your next move. Dean had taken you to a point where your confidence was merely pent up sexual frustration.
You sat up and climbed into his lap without a single thought. As shamelessly as he’d touched you, you gripped the base of his cock. His lips parted and his eyes widened in pleasant surprise when you took his chin between your fingers and kissed him hard. He gave you full control and released his dick so his hands could find your hips instead and pull you closer.
He felt heavy in your hand, the throb and heat of him made your grip tighten in anticipation. He moaned against your mouth when you slowly stroked up his silky skin, slick with his precum. You thumbed at the slit, smeared his excitement around the head of his cock, and sucked his bottom lip into your mouth.
Dean groaned softly and squeezed your hip. He slowly let himself lay on his back and pulled you down with your lips still locked in a breathy and covetous kiss. You twisted your hand upwards, faster, and emphasised the movement of your fingers beneath the head of his cock. He pulled away slightly with a gasp and found his place between your legs to run a teasing finger through your drenched folds.
“I’m gonna fuck you so hard… wanna bury myself inside of you,” he murmured against your lips.
“Oh, fuck,” you gasped instantly against his parted mouth, “yes.”
Dean kissed you hard and replaced your hand on his cock with his own again. He pulled away to catch his breath with you. Using his other hand, he brushed your hair out of the way and continued to pant for breath. He watched between your bodies, his throbbing cock in his hand, but you only watched him—curiously and longingly. He stroked himself slowly and he cursed under his breath when the tip finally breached the wet opening of your vagina.
Your breath hitched, but his name managed to slip out quietly. He hummed in satisfaction when you slowly lowered yourself on him. The delightful stretch of having him inside you weakened your knees and your pussy tightened around him. He thrusted upwards slowly, sliding his cock further into your wet heat, perfectly stroking your g-spot.
You pulled away a small distance and watched him become utterly enraptured. His freckled cheeks were tainted a deep red that spread up to the tips of his ears and down to his neck like a wildfire. He looked so fucking beautiful. His brows furrowed in concentration and his plush lips parted to release soft groans of pleasure that made your pussy throb around him greedily.
His eyes fluttered open and he leaned up slightly to reach your lips. He managed to land a small peck before you started lifting yourself up and down on his cock. A broken moan from him made you smile devilishly. He fell back into the mattress and squeezed your hips roughly.
“Dammit, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he praised breathily. You hummed softly and wrapped your hands around his wrists to guide his hands up to your breasts before bouncing on his lap faster, building a more steadfast rhythm.
“I love the way you feel, too,” you moaned softly, aroused at the sound of Dean’s cock entering your wet pussy and your skin hitting his when he was buried so deeply inside you the breath was nearly punched out of your lungs in surprise.
“You’re so unbelievably beautiful,” he continued to worship quietly, pinching almost painfully at your nipples, then teasingly brushed the pads of his thumbs over them—maybe soothingly. You moaned and leaned back with your hands on his thighs the closer you got to your orgasm.
One of Dean’s hands moved away from your breast to slowly slide down the front of your body. You watched him stare up at you, adoring you with his touch and lauding you in between groans and gasps of ecstasy. He squeezed your thigh encouragingly and cursed at the way you clenched your cunt around his sensitive cock.
You allowed yourself to close your eyes and let the pleasure of riding him saturate your mind and body. His hands moved along your body, praising without words when all he could do was groan and pant lewdly at your enthusiastic fucking.
He kneaded your breasts, squeezed your flesh, scratched gently at your skin. You were teeming with bliss and you were embarrassingly wet, but everything about him made you pathetically horny and he appeared to absolutely love every second of it.
Dean’s hand finally moved between your legs to find your clit and rub it continuously. His hips bucked upwards when you whined his name and clamped down on his cock as you orgasmed. Your body shook above him and he hummed low in his throat, partially amused, but mostly satisfied.
His thumb rubbed furiously at your clit—dilating the duration of your orgasm, intensifying it—and only stopped when you couldn’t handle it anymore. Your whimper and the way you weakly draped your body over his with your forehead pressed into his warm shoulder, stopped him.
You couldn’t process much after that, but soon your face was pressed into his pillow and your pussy was getting filled again with his cock. His fingers bruised your hips and you gasped out moans as your second orgasm began to build.
"Shit, you love it like this, don't you, sweetheart?" You were flustered by the soppy sound of your cunt every time he pounded into you from behind, but you were partially grateful that he was close to finishing. A perplexing, carnal part of you wanted him to keep ploughing into your pussy until you ached.
“Fuck, you’re such a good girl,” Dean praised gruffly. You only whimpered brokenly in response as he fucked you through the squelch and wetness of your second orgasm. Your toes curled with the unbelievable sensation that seized your body when you felt his cum fill you with warmth. His release slipped between your thighs in a mixture with yours and you cried his name as your walls pulsed around his throbbing cock.
Dean released you and your body sank completely into the soft mattress. He panted against your shoulder and murmured praises with his comforting hands sailing along your body.
Your mind slowly returned to the real world and the beat of your heart slowed to its normal rhythm. You were exhausted and you wanted to clean yourself up, but Dean had other plans for you: staying in bed and cuddling.
You willed yourself into getting up out of his bed. You sat up—his arm loosely around your waist—and became aware of the lack of windows and the wooden stake that rested at the far end of the little platform—a shelf really—he had above his bed next to a little fan.
“Um…” you trailed off, wiggling out of his arm to slide out of the messy bed.
“You’re seriously not gonna stay in bed?” He questioned you as you looked around, attempting to ignore the rest of your mixed release dripping from between your legs. You felt his fingers move between yours, then a sharp tug pulled you back in bed. Your legs were shaky so you ended up right back where he wanted you to be—in his embrace.
“Yeah,” you laughed awkwardly. You squirmed and wiggled until he finally released you, “I don’t know you and I need to… get back… somewhere, home.” He sat up on his side and stared at you blankly for a few seconds. No, he’s too beautiful.
You looked away and decided to pull “your” clothes from where he’d thrown it to get something to cover your body now that your post-orgasmic brain was becoming logical and self-conscious.
“Babe, drop it, we’ll play that game later,” he dismissed you with a cute snort. You groaned at him when he snagged his shirt from your hands. He slowly peppered kisses along your neck and shoulder and you were unable to fight him.
“Dean, I’m serious,” you tried weakly and gripped his hair to pull him away as gently as you could. You turned to look at him again and he backed off. “Look at me and tell me if I’m lying to you.” He rolled his eyes but held your gaze for a few moments as he contemplated you.
You saw the amusement on his handsome face but you continued to frown. The amusement faded into perplexity and concern.
sitting him down after he's had a long day, knees spread as far as they can go, still in a white dress shirt and trousers, not even bothering to take them off, just unbuckling his belt, pulling his zipper down, and pulling his cock out from his boxers
placing a hand around him, very softly, while looking up into his lust-blown green eyes, his head tilting back the second there's movement, a long drawn-out groan ripping its way through his throat
kissing the head of his cock, licking him lightly, as he whimpers so pathetically, and then diving straight down, taking all of him as he gasps out curses
taking him deep and swallowing around him as he gets louder, his hand shooting down, gripping and guiding, speeding up until he cums, maybe the fastest he's ever, because it just feels so fucking good
climbing up onto his lap while he's still panting, kissing him messily, as his cock starts to harden again, pulling away with a giggle, as he sighs and says, "how did i get so lucky?"
