ê€ summary: dean winchester was supposed to just be keeping you company in a crappy motel room. one burger, a stolen kiss, and a ruined tube of lip gloss later⊠well, letâs just say the night turned into a very hands-on anniversary celebration.
⯠warnings: mdni!! explicit smut, oral (f & m receiving), praise kink, unprotected piv, a whole lot of making out, pre established relationship, minor food mention, bratty sub! dean undertones, reader is spoiled rotten, mutual desperation, swearing.
⯠notes: so.. beyond grateful for 1k followers guys!! yes, itâs official. you guys have no idea what this means to me <3 and hereâs a thank you, with a celebration theme at hand. đ hope you like it as much as i enjoyed writing it!!
deanâs late.
heâs always late. but itâs not like this is a real anniversary or anything. not like youâre keeping track. not like you have a calendar alert that went off at 6:23 pm. because thatâs the exact time he first kissed you behind that haunted bar in arizona, the one with the cursed juke box and the tequila that tasted like ass.
youâre not sentimental.
you just happen to remember things.
anyways, heâs late.
youâre in a motel, thereâs a pink robe tied tight around your waist and a tube of lip gloss glistening on the nightstand. youâre on the second coat. the glitterâs peachy. itâs subtle. dean loves it. which is exactly why youâre not letting him near your face tonight... not until you get a photo.
heâs always ruining your lip gloss. like itâs his full-time job.
you hear the impala pull in, obnoxious as ever. and your stomach does that annoying twist thing like youâre seventeen with a crush. you ignore it. you grab your phone. you pout in the mirror, checking the shine. your mascaraâs holding. hairâs cute. your little robe is short enough to be a threat to national security.
not that you care what dean thinks.
youâre just hot, generally.
The door creaks open.
âhey, sweetheart,â he calls, voice like warm. heâs juggling a greasy bag of food, two gas station sodas, and a mini bouquet of actual flowers. wildflowers. picked. with his hands.
âŠyou blink.
âwhat the hell is that?â
âbouquet,â he says like youâre slow.
âyeah, i see that. did you rob a meadow?âŠ.â
âi picked them,â he replies, setting everything down on the table like heâs not casually being the most romantic man alive.
you blink at the flowers as if theyâve insulted you.
dean fucking winchester is standing in the doorway with a full bag of greasy diner food in one hand and a crooked little fistful of wildflowers in the other, like itâs the most normal thing in the world. and now heâs trying to walk in here like he didnât make you wait forty-three minutes past when he said âiâm ten away.â
your eyes flick down to the bouquet. theyâre scraggly and half-wilted. a daisyâs hanging on for dear life.
âyou picked them?â you ask, skeptically.
dean shrugs. âyeah.â
âfrom where, the side of the freeway?â
âi picked them,â he repeats, with the same gruff, offended tone he uses when you ask if he wants a salad. âjesus.â
you hold back a laugh. you want to be annoyed, but you can already feel yourself cracking.
he shoves the flowers toward you with exactly zero grace and goes for setting the food down on the little table in the corner of the room. itâs one of those rickety wood-laminate ones thatâs probably seen more crime scenes than you have. the soda cups slosh. you watch him pull a cupcake box from the bottom of the bag like heâs unveiling some sacred artifact. your stomach flips. theyâre chocolate.
okay. so maybe youâre a little obsessed with him.
dean peeks up at you, like heâs trying to gauge your mood. you havenât said anything yet. youâre still holding the flowers. they smell like grass. and kind of like⊠engine oil?
âthis your weird way of saying happy anniversary?â you say finally, brows raised.
his mouth twitches like he wants to smile but knows better. âwhat anniversary?â
âoh my god.â you throw the flowers onto the bed and flop down dramatically. âyouâre a manchild.â
âi didnât say I forgot. i just didnât know which one you were pretending we celebrate this time.â
you glare at him from the bed.
he shrugs off his jacket and sits on the edge of the mattress, like heâs unbothered. âlast time it was our first salt-and-burn,â he says. âbefore that it was when I let you drive the car. and the time before that was, what? first time I didnât flirt with a waitress?â
âiâm a romantic person,â you snap. âyou should be grateful.â
he chuckles under his breath, looking down at the floor like heâs trying not to laugh too hard. âoh, Iâm grateful, alright.â
you roll onto your side to glare at him harder. âdean. itâs the first time you kissed me, idiot.â
he lifts his head. that smirk finally softens. ââŠbehind that gross bar in arizona?â
âyes.â
âthe one with the jukebox that kept playing bon jovi?â
âcorrect.â
âand that awful bartender who kept calling you sweetheart?â
âi was so close to stabbing him.â
dean huffs a laugh. âyou know i only kissed you to stop you from committing a felony, right?â
âyeah, right.. you kissed me because you were obsessed with me.â
he doesnât argue.
you sit up and grab the burger from the bag, unwrapping it like youâre mad even though youâre not. youâd been planning to act a little annoyed all night. that was part of the fun. deanâs late, you pout, he apologizes with food and a gift, and then, eventually, you let him kiss it better.
to your surprise, thereâs no teasing from his part. he just kind of⊠looks at you. and itâs weird, honestly, the way it happens sometimes, how he can go from smug and flirty and full of bullshit to just⊠that. like a switch flips. and suddenly youâre just sitting across from him in a shitty motel with a paper plate in your lap, and heâs looking at you like youâre the only good thing thatâs ever happened to him.
you take a slow bite of your burger, pretending not to notice.
dean doesnât say anything. he just chews his own food in silence for a while, his eyes dropping to your mouth every so often like heâs not trying to be obvious about it. and itâs not even in a sleazy way, itâs barely there. maybe he just likes watching you enjoy something.
the room hums with the kind of quiet that only happens when youâre comfortable. the TVâs playing some old cop show neither of you are really paying attention to, and youâre both barefoot. your knees keep bumping under the table, and Dean doesnât move his.
eventually, you swipe at your mouth with a napkin and set the burger down. âthat dinerâs never gonna get your order wrong, huh.â
ââcourse not,â he says. âguy at the counterâs scared of me.â
you smile. âso you bully them into remembering i donât like pickles?â
dean shrugs, eyes on his fries. âi just know what you like.â
you feel that. low, tight in your chest. something warm that you pretend is just the burger, not what he said.
dean doesnât push it. he just eats one more fry, then leans back against the headboard like heâs settling in for the night. one hand behind his head, the other fiddling absently with the hem of the blanket. he looks⊠relaxed.
and you suddenly feel very aware of your face. your lip gloss. the way your robeâs slipped slightly off your shoulder. you turn toward the mirror again and check your mouth. still glossy.
dean watches you from the bed.
âyouâre not gonna let it go, are you?â he asks.
you glance over your shoulder. âwhat?â
âthe lip gloss.â
âi just put it on,â you say, defensive. âItâs brand new. i havenât even taken a cute selfie yet.â
dean lifts an eyebrow. âyou really think Iâm gonna let that mouth go to waste?â
âwell, youâre gonna ruin it...â
âthatâs kinda the point.â
you shoot him a look.
he smiles. god, that smile. the one that starts a little crooked and ends with your heart somewhere around your knees.
you fold your arms. âno.â
dean pats the empty space on the bed next to him. âcome here.â
âno!!â
he tilts his head. âwhy not?â
âyouâll try to kiss meâŠâ
âiâll try very hard.â
you fight a smile. he knows it. you know it. the air between you starts to hum a little louder.
dean leans forward, elbows on his knees. âwhat if Iâm gonna be good?â he offers. âwhat if I just⊠hold you for a second? that allowed?â
you hesitate.
then, before you can think better of it, you pad over barefoot and drop next to him on the bed. you cross your legs and lean back, keeping some strategic space between your bodies. deanâs arm lands behind your shoulders like it always does, lazy and casual.
you let your head fall back against his shoulder.
âyouâre impossible,â you mutter.
âmm,â he says. âiâm being romantic.â
you snort. âyou forgot what today was.â
âi brought you flowers.â
âthey were dying.â
you laugh uncontrollably, until he turns to look at you, his mouth inches from your cheek. âstill pretty.â
dean stares at you like itâs the first time heâs ever really seen you. not the lip gloss or the robe or the way your lashes look in the lamplight, but the version of you that he gets when nobody else is around. the one who steals his fries and rolls her eyes and curls into his side like she was made to be there.
you blink. dean leans in, slow and soft and sure.
âyouâre gonna mess it up,â you whisper, even as your eyes flick to his mouth.
he doesnât say anything. just watches your face like he wants to mess it up, wants to leave his mark there and wear it around like proof.
you should say no again. push him off. finish your burger and get that selfie before itâs too late.
but then his hand slides up, fingertips brushing your jaw, and his lips ghost over the corner of your mouth like heâs asking for permission without words.
so, fuck, you let him kiss you.
and itâs slow. so slow. he wants to take his time ruining you. your lip gloss doesnât stand a chance. he kisses you like heâs been waiting all damn day for it.
his lips are a little chapped from the wind, but they fit against yours like he was made for this exact situation. he doesnât rush it. doesnât grope or grind or go straight for your throat like he does when heâs desperate.
his hand slides to your jaw, thumb brushing that spot just under your cheekbone, gentle enough that it makes your breath catch. you shift closer without thinking. his fingers skim down, tracing your neck, your collarbone, the open edge of your robe. he kisses you again, longer this time. messier. and when he pulls back just barely, heâs looking at your mouth like he wants to apologize and do it again at the same time.
your gloss is definitely ruined.
âoops,â he whispers, way too smug.
you open your mouth to say something back, maybe to slap him, maybe to pull him closer; but then he trails his fingertips down the slope of your throat and you completely forget what language is.
âyouâre so warm,â he murmurs, mouth brushing your jaw now, hand ghosting over the curve of your shoulder. âevery time. always runninâ hot.â
âdean-â
âiâm not even doing anything,â he says, smiling against your skin.
which is a big lie.
because his palm is sliding over your waist now, and youâre melting under it. youâre not even sure when he moved, when you ended up half in his lap, one leg tucked between his and your hand gripping the collar of his shirt like itâs the only thing tethering you to the earth.
âlet me hold you,â he says suddenly, low and serious.
you blink. âyou are.â
ânot like that.â
his hand glides down to your thigh, the edge of his fingers just barely brushing skin beneath your robe. he tugs gently, wordlessly, until you shift into his lap fully, your knees bracketing his hips, his back propped against the headboard. you hesitate for half a second.
then you settle.
and fuck, you shouldnât feel this safe.
not with a man like him. not in a room like this. not with the world you both live in.
but dean winchester has this way of wrapping his arms around you like the universe makes sense when youâre in them. his hands rest heavy on your hips, like heâs grounding himself with the feel of you. you press your forehead to his. your lips hover, close but not touching.
it doesnât take long.
one minute youâre in his lap, kissing slow and deep like youâve got nowhere else to be. and the next, deanâs got your robe pushed off your shoulders and his hands dragging down your back like heâs trying to memorize it. his palms are so warm. he touches you like youâre delicate, even though thereâs nothing tentative about it.
every movement is focused and so intentional.
he breaks the kiss only to look at you, his eyes flick down, soaking in every inch of you. he canât believe he gets to do this. heâs not sure whether to fall to his knees or take you apart where you sit.
then his hands start moving. gripping the backs of your thighs. and you donât even realize what heâs doing until he shifts you off his lap and lays you back on the bed like you weigh nothing.
he keeps looking at you. his hands trail up your calves, then your thighs. so slow you could scream. his fingers brush the insides. light strokes as if heâs teasing both of you.
âyouâre already shaking,â he murmurs.
you glance down at him, propped between your knees, his shirt rucked up, hair messy. and you donât even realize your breathâs gone uneven until he leans down and kisses the inside of your thigh.
âi havenât even touched you yet.â
your hands clench the sheets.
âdean.â
âyeah?â he kisses higher. hotter. the scratch of his stubble makes you shiver. âwhat is it, sweetheart?â
âi swear to god if you donât-â
âoh, youâre swearing to god now?â he grins, mouthing right beside the edge of your panties. âdidnât even do anything yet.â
your hips twitch.
dean lifts his head and smiles. that cocky, flushed smirk, equal parts brat and boyfriend, and then hooks his fingers under your panties.
âgonna take these off, alright?â
you nod, breathless. he kisses your knee before he does. like itâs a thank you. the panties go. youâre bare. and itâs like dean short-circuits for a second.
âfuck,â he says, voice suddenly low and wrecked. âyouâre so fuckinâ pretty down here.â
your cheeks burn.
he doesnât stop looking. doesnât stop talking.
âyou know that?â he murmurs, dragging his thumbs along the crease of your thighs. âhow perfect you are? fuck. i mean, look at you, baby.â
you squirm.
he kisses the inside of your thigh again. then higher. then higher. and then he flattens his tongue against you.
you gasp, sharply, hips jerking, but deanâs hands fly to your waist and hold you there, fingers tight, thumbs rubbing in soft circles to keep you grounded.
âthatâs it,â he whispers, already breathless. âgod, you taste good.â
your hands claw at the sheets, eyes fluttering closed as he starts moving, slow, lazy licks, savoring it. the tip of his nose nudges against you, and the groan that rumbles out of him is borderline obscene.
he moves deeper. tongue slipping down and back up, dragging tight against your clit before pulling off just to kiss it.
you nod frantically, whimpering when he locks eyes with you and moans right into your pussy. he could come undone just from this.
because heâs hard. you feel it in the air, his tension, the way his hips twitch sometimes, the quiet grunts he lets out when you moan too loud. heâs not touching himself. heâs not even thinking about relief. heâs too busy licking you like his life depends on it.
âwant you to come on my mouth,â he says, lifting his head for just a second. his lips are wet, voice raw. âwant it so bad, baby. let me have it.â
your thighs shake.
dean wraps his arms around them, burying his face like heâs drunk on you, groaning every time your hips roll or your fingers grab at his hair. he doesnât stop. he just keeps worshipping, gentle licks, sloppy kisses, thick praise whispered between each one.
âlook at you,â he groans, âlook how fuckinâ good you are. my sweet girl, my good girl, takinâ it so perfect.â
youâre gasping, soaked.
âdean- iâm-â
he hums against your clit. âi know. i got you.â
and you do. you come so hard your vision whites out. your thighs clench around his head, and he lets them, groaning, still licking, needing to make you fall apart all over again.
and when you finally pull away, chest heaving, skin burning, you look down at him and see it. lip gloss smeared across his chin. and the hardest goddamn bulge in his jeans youâve ever seen.
dean wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, panting a little. heâs still catching his breath when you sit up, face flushed, legs shaking, heart pounding out of rhythm. your thighs are sticky, and deanâs still on his knees between yours, looking like he just got hit by a truck.
you stare at him for maybe a second.
then you lunge.
you grab his shirt, yank him up by the collar, and crash your mouth onto his, tasting yourself, groaning into him, swallowing every stunned noise he makes. his hands shoot to your hips, steadying you instinctively.
âfuck,â he breathes, lips chasing yours. âyou okay?â
âshut up,â you whisper. âtake your pants off.â
dean blinks.
âwha-â
youâre already fumbling with the button, dragging the zipper down while he tries to remember how to speak. his mouth hangs open, his brain still lagging behind, like he canât quite believe whatâs happening.
âwait, sweetheart-â
âshhh,â you say, looking up at him through your lashes. âyouâve had your fun. now itâs my turn.â
dean curses under his breath, hips twitching as you tug his jeans down. you can see how hard he is, straining against his boxers, leaking already, the wet patch massive. you run your fingers along the edge of the waistband, deliberately slow.
dean exhales, itâs killing him. âfuck. youâre tryinâ to make me lose it.â
âkind of the point,â you mutter, tugging his boxers down and letting his cock spring free.
he groans.
and yeah, heâs big, thick and so pretty. red at the tip. already glistening. heâs been like this for you, suffering quietly, grinding into nothing while he ate you out like he was starving.
you lick your lips.
dean makes a sound, somewhere between a whimper and a prayer, and you swear you feel his cock twitch in your hand.
âoh my god,â you murmur. âyouâre throbbing.â
âiâve been hard since you sat in my lap,â he says, eyes fluttering shut. âyou gonna do something about it or just admire it all night?â
you smile. âyou look pretty when youâre desperate.â
âfuck.â
you donât waste time. you lean down, still between his thighs, and press a kiss to the base of his cock. one hand wraps around the shaft, stroking slowly, while your mouth works its way up, little kisses, light licks, until you reach the tip.
dean is silent. staring down at you with his mouth hanging open, his fingers digging into the sheets, so fucking gone.
then you take him into your mouth.
âshit-â
itâs not gentle. you want him to feel it, to know how much youâve been holding back. you sink down slow, tongue pressed to the underside, spit already dripping, your hand twisting at the base as you suck.
dean chokes on a groan. his hips buck once before he catches himself.
âbaby,â he pants. âjesus christ, you canât just- fuck-â
you hum around him. sink deeper.
he throws his head back, adamâs apple bobbing hard, one hand flying to your hair to anchor himself. but he doesnât force anything. just holds, like he needs to touch you or he might break.
you pull back with a wet pop, eyes glassy.
âdean.â
his eyes snap open.
âyouâre so hard itâs leaking,â you say, licking the tip slowly, dramatically, a threat.
he twitches again. âbecause of you. because i- god, baby, youâve got no fuckinâ idea what you do to me.â
you smirk and take him back in, this time deeper, sloppier, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing as you suck him like heâs your favorite dessert. you want him to feel every single second of it. you want him wrecked. whining. yours.
heâs cursing under his breath, moaning your name, hips flexing in tight little jerks he canât control. he keeps trying to be good, trying not to fuck up the rhythm, but you see the strain in his thighs, his abs tightening when you moan around him, the way his hand starts trembling in your hair.
âyouâre gonna make me, fuck, iâm not gonna last if you keepââ
you pull off for a second, spit trailing from your lips to his cock.
âagain, thatâs kind of the idea,â you whisper.
and then you go harder.
no teasing, no breaks. just the wet, messy pleasure. your throat works, your hands pump, and your mouth wraps tight around him like he was made for this.
he loses it.
âbaby, fuck- iâm coming, iâm-â
he groans so loud, his whole body jerking as he spills into your mouth, his hand fisting your hair, not pushing, just clinging. his thighs shake, hips stutter. heâs panting, moaning your name like itâs the only word he remembers.
you donât stop until heâs done twitching. you swallow. slowly. dean slumps back on the bed, wrecked. dazed. and when he finally opens his eyes, he looks at you like heâs in love. which, honestly, he is.
deanâs still panting, chest rising and falling fast, sweat darkening the edges of his hairline. his hands are still in your hair, his cock resting against his thigh, soft but not for long. you can see it, how his pupils are blown so wide thereâs barely any green left, the way his gaze drags over you like heâs trying to memorize every inch.
and then he moves.
one second heâs slouched back, dazed and ruined. the next, youâre flat on your back, your knees hooked over his arms, and dean is on top of you, mouth on yours before you can even breathe, kissing you deep, licking into you like heâs starved. you taste like him and yourself and it makes him groan, low and filthy.
âsweetheart,â he mutters against your lips, âyou just about killed me.â
you smile against his mouth, but itâs gone the second he grinds against you, heâs already hard again, the hot, heavy press of him throbbing against your soaked folds. your breath catches.
âjesus christ,â you whisper.
he smirks, kissing down your jaw, your neck, biting gently before soothing the spot with his tongue. âyeah, i know. but baby? youâve got no idea what you do to me. no idea how bad iâve been wantinâ this⊠wantinâ you.â
his hand slips between you, fingers sliding through the wetness he left earlier. he groans like just feeling you is enough to snap him in half.
âfuck. youâre dripping,â he breathes, and you swear you feel him twitch against your thigh. âthat for me?â
âyeah,â you manage, but it comes out more like a whimper.
âthatâs my girl,â he says, voice going low, and your stomach flips. âalways so fuckinâ good for me.â
he doesnât waste time. he lines himself up, dragging the thick head of his cock through your slick folds slowly, deliberately, just enough to make you gasp and squirm. heâs watching you the entire time, eyes half-lidded but locked on your face like heâs cataloging every twitch and sound.
and then, without warning, he sinks into you.
you both groan. loud.
âjesus-â he hisses, jaw clenched, eyes squeezing shut. âyouâre so tight, baby, so fuckinâ warm, oh my god.â
he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, and just stays there for a second. feeling you around him. youâre clinging to his shoulders, nails digging in, your legs already wrapping tight around his waist.
âdean-â
âshh,â he says softly, pressing his forehead to yours. âi got you. gonna take such good care of you.â
when he starts moving, itâs slow at first. deep, dragging thrusts that have you moaning with every roll of his hips. his hands grip your thighs, thumbs stroking over your skin, but thereâs nothing gentle in the way heâs looking at you. itâs pure hunger.
âlook at you,â he murmurs, picking up the pace just enough to make you gasp. âtaking me so well. you were made for me.â
your nails scrape down his back. âdean, god- you feel so good-â
âthatâs right, baby,â he growls, thrusts getting sharper. âsay my name. say it again.â
âdean, dean, fuck-â
âyeah? you like this? like me filling you up?â his voice is rough, ragged, his hips slamming into you now in quick, punishing thrusts. âthis pussyâs mine, sweetheart. always.â
youâre gasping, whining, pulling him closer, and heâs everywhere, his breath in your ear, his hands gripping you like you might disappear, his cock hitting deep enough to make your vision blur.
âgod, youâre so fuckinâ beautiful,â he says, and itâs almost reverent. âevery time you look at me, I swear I could lose my damn mind.â
he kisses you hard, thrusts never faltering, until youâre breaking the kiss just to breathe. youâre so close, every nerve alight, and dean feels it, he knows.
âthatâs it, baby. youâre right there. let go for me. come on my cock like the good girl you are.â
itâs the way he says it. low, commanding, but oh so full of love, that pushes you over the edge. youâre clenching around him, crying out, and deanâs right there with you, groaning your name like itâs a prayer, hips stuttering as he spills into you, filling you so deep you swear you feel it everywhere.
he collapses against you, breathing hard, his face buried in your neck. his weight feels grounding, and youâre still shaking when he presses a kiss to your skin.
ê€ summary: deanâs been flirting with you for months, trying every trick in the book to drop hints, but figures youâre either clueless or evil. he finally snaps and confesses like a complete emotional disaster. idiot(s) in love.
⯠warnings: one-sided pining thatâs actually two-sided but everyoneâs stupid, sorta oblivious! reader, dean winchester in love (scary), classic motel room emotional meltdown, miscommunication but make it sexy, sam doesnât even show up but heâs so tired of this.
⯠notes: hi again cuties!! fyi, i took a short mental health break.. i love writing fics where dean is literally going insane. now i need to go touch grass or kiss him violently. whichever comes first.
dean winchester had survived hellhounds, vampires, vengeful spirits, and two near-death burrito incidents, but nothing, and he meant nothing, couldâve prepared him for how stupidly, painfully, soul crushingly in love he was with you.
it was stupid. like, really stupid. you werenât even trying. youâd laugh at his dumb jokes. real laughter, like you hadnât just heard the same crap a hundred times, and youâd tilt your head and smile at him like he wasnât forgetting how to breathe.
âmorning,â you said one day, walking into the motel kitchen like you werenât single-handedly ruining his life.
dean stared at you. big eyes. soft smile. hair messy from sleep. you had two pop-tarts in your hand and offered him one like it was no big deal. like you didnât just rock his whole world on a tuesday morning.
âi saved the strawberry one for you,â you said, biting into the other one.
âyou, uh... saved it?â he asked, heart doing parkour.
âyeah,â you said casually, like it wasnât the most romantic gesture anyone had ever made. âi know you like the pink ones.â
he took it from you slowly, reverently, like youâd just handed him your heart or a wedding ring or the keys to your apartment in heaven.
he could hear sam snorting behind him.
âdonât,â dean muttered as he sat down, carefully unwrapping the pop-tart like it was fragile glass.
âyouâre embarrassing,â sam whispered from the other side of the table.
dean kicked him under it.
you were just⊠nice. thatâs what killed him the most. you were a hunter, sure, youâd seen the worst shit out there, but you still had this goodness to you. you said âbless youâ when he sneezed. you brought him water when he had a headache. one time, you tied his hair back when he had engine grease in his eyes, and he swore he saw the gates of heaven for a second.
but the worst part? you thought he was just being friendly.
dean âiâve been flirting with you since missouriâ winchester was being interpreted as âjust a pal.â
he helped you salt your room every night. gave you his shotgun when yours jammed. carried you to the car like a damn hero when you twisted your ankle. and what did you say?
âyouâre such a good friend, dean.â
he was so fucking sick from it.
you never thought twice about it, you were just like that. but dean? he was one look away from falling to his knees every time you smiled at him for too long. it wasnât cute anymore. it was actually getting kinda dangerous.
like, last night? you had the audacity to reach over during a movie and fix the collar of his flannel. just tugged on it real gently and said, âthere. lookinâ good, winchester.â oh, as if you werenât sending him into full cardiac arrest.
he blinked at you, totally dazed. âyou, uh⊠wanna do that again?â
âwhat, fix your collar?â
âno. just⊠yeah. that.â
you giggled and went back to your popcorn like it was nothing. he genuinely had to pause the movie and walk out to the car to scream into his hands for a full thirty seconds.
dean decided right then, enough was enough.
he was gonna make a move. no more fake-flirty shit. he was gonna say something. do something. shake it up. see if maybe you felt any of this too.
so he did. he started getting bold. subtle, sure, but still. he stopped pulling away when your hands brushed, let his fingers linger. heâd bump your hip when you were standing next to him, catch your eye during long drives and hold the stare for too long.
and then one night, as you both sat outside the motel after a long-ass hunt, him with a beer and you with a root beer bottle sweating in your palm, he leaned in just a little too close. close enough that you could feel his breath on your jaw. you didnât flinch, just smiled, eyes on the stars.
âyâknow,â he said, voice low. âi like this. you and me. nights like this.â
you grinned. âyeah, me too. feels like weâre in a movie or somethinâ.â
dean turned toward you, full body, arm draped across the back of the bench so it looked casual, but he was literally using it to inch closer to you.
he dropped his voice even lower. âif this was a movie, iâd probably kiss you right now.â
you snorted. snorted.
âyouâre such a dork,â you laughed, sipping your soda. âyou always say the corniest stuff.â
dean just blinked at you. you werenât even joking, were you? you thought he was playing around. he wasnât even sure what expression was on his face anymore. but he smiled through it. âyeah. guess I do.â
he wanted to crash the car into the nearest ditch. just a light crash. nothing fatal. just enough to knock some sense into you.
little did he know it would all start with a fight.
not a big one. just one of those dumb, hot motel arguments that always happened when you two were tired and hungry and road-tripping for way too long. he snapped at you over directions. of course his stupid ass decided it would be romantic to let you drive. you rolled your eyes. then he got real quiet. you knew something was bubbling under the surface.
âyou gonna stay mad all night?â you asked eventually, dropping your bag on the motel bed and kicking off your boots. âitâs not like i crashed baby or something.â
dean didnât answer. just stood there, jaw tight, hands on his hips, staring at the wall like it had personally offended him.
you huffed. âjesus, dean. chill out.â
that did it.
he turned around so fast you flinched, not because you were scared, dean didnât scare you, but because his face looked wild. raw and flushed and just done with everything. âchill out?â he repeated, voice sharp. âchill out? you think this is me being mad about directions?â
you blinked. âuh. yeah? it kinda felt like-â
âiâm in love with you!â
the words dropped like a bomb. cut through the air so cleanly you honestly thought you misheard him.
you froze. âwhat?â
âi said Iâm in love with you, you fucking idiot,â he snapped, and this time his voice cracked, not from anger, but from the weight of it. the years, the months, the fucking hours heâd spent holding it in. âdo you even get what itâs been like for me? watching you walk around every damn day like weâre just buddies, like i donât wanna rip my own heart out every time you look at me like that?â
you stared at him, stunned.
âlike what?â you whispered.
âlike you donât know,â he growled, stepping closer. his hands were fists now, not angry ones, just ones that didnât know what to do with themselves. âlike you donât feel it too. you laugh when I flirt with you, like itâs a joke. you wear my damn shirts, sleep on my shoulder, hold my hand when youâre tired, and Iâm supposed to just⊠what, pretend itâs casual? just friendly?â
you opened your mouth. nothing came out.
dean shook his head, laughing bitterly. âiâve been trying, okay? iâve been trying to keep it cool. to let you come to me. but youâre either the most oblivious person Iâve ever met or youâre just cruel.â
âdean-â
âno,â he cut in, voice breaking again. âi canât do it anymore. iâm in love with you. real, scary, punch-me-in-the-face love. and i swear to god if you donât feel the same, iâm gonna lose my damn mind.â
and then you did the absolute worst thing imaginable.
you laughed.
deanâs face fell. he looked completely shattered. âare you kidding me?â
but you were already crossing the room, already putting your hand on his chest and shaking your head, grinning like an idiot.
âi know,â you said, breathless with laughter. âi know, dean. of course i know. youâre the most obvious man on planet earth.â he stared at you, completely stunned. you smiled. âi just didnât think you meant it. i thought that was just⊠you. being dean.â
he blinked. âi was being me. me is fucking in love with you.â
you laughed again, soft this time, and your fingers curled into the collar of his shirt.
âim in love with you too, dumbass.â
his mouth opened like he was about to say something, probably some sarcastic little remark, but you kissed him before he could. pulled him down by the shirt and smashed your mouth against his, and it wasnât gentle or careful or slow. It was sloppy, overdue, and desperate.
dean groaned, hands flying to your waist like instinct, pulling you in so tightly you could feel his heartbeat through his shirt. âyou have no idea how long iâve wanted to do that,â he muttered against your lips.
you kissed him again.
and again.
and again.
when you finally pulled back, dazed and smiling, his hands still on you like he was scared youâd vanish, he just stared at you. like he couldnât believe it was real.
âso,â you said, a little breathless. âstill mad about the directions?â
dean leaned in again, forehead resting on yours, his voice hoarse with relief. âyou could drive us into a lake right now and iâd thank you.â
ê€ summary: my take on the infamous NSFW alphabet where each letter represents a different aspect of sam's freaky, loving, and sometimes unexpected side in bed!!
⯠warnings: mdni!! extremely explicit content, mature themes, adult language, graphic sex details, explicit descriptions of intimacy, kinky stuff, too much masturbation going on, hair pulling, choking, body worship, switch! sam, light voyeurism, unhinged, highly detailed cock description.
⯠notes: thank you for the anon that brought you this post!!! this has been on my mind for way too long. if you missed it, hereâs the dean version of this post. iâm officially registering as a whore.
A = AFTERCARE..
sam is top-tier, elite, gold-star certified in aftercare. letâs be real. sam has a guilt complex the size of kansas, deep emotional intelligence (even when he tries to bottle it), and a lover boy heart under all that trauma. so after sex? heâs gentle as hell.
it doesnât matter if it was rough, slow, quick, emotional, or downright feral, heâs still checking in. heâs the type to brush your hair out of your face while your chest is still heaving. he cups your jaw and whispers, âyou okay, baby?â with that raspy, post-orgasm voice. he wonât stop touching you, but not particularly in a sexy way. like, lovey-dovey touches. his palm on your thigh. his fingers lacing with yours. that kinda thing.
samâs also super intuitive. if youâre the talky type after sex? heâs gonna lie there and listen to you ramble and giggle with you like youâre both drunk off each other. if you go quiet? heâll pull you to his chest and just breathe with you, run his fingers down your spine. let the silence feel safe.
lowkey, heâs a clean-up king too. grabs a towel, helps you wipe down, maybe even carries you to the bathroom if youâre too wobbly. you just KNOW heâs the kind to whisper âiâll be right back, donât moveâ before slipping out of bed to get you water or a snack.
and letâs not forget, heâs always gonna be overthinking. even if everything went perfectly, samâs still gonna be laying there like, was i too rough? did i make them feel good? do they still like me? so if you curl into him, praise him a little, you can feel his body relax as if you just unclenched every knot in his soul.
B = BODY PART..
samâs favorite part of himself? his hips.
this man is so unaware of how lethal he is until youâre under him, and suddenly that slow, deep roll of his hips becomes his favorite weapon. sam doesnât walk around thinking heâs sexy, but the second he sees the way you react to the way he fucks, the way you grab his waist, beg for more, whimper when he grinds deep and doesnât let up?
thatâs when it clicks.
and it turns into obsession. heâll hold your legs open and grind slow, steady, deep, not just to get himself off, but to feel you fall apart. it makes him feel powerful. like you were made for him and he was made to fit into you just right.
however, when it comes to you⊠your stomach.
soft or toned, flat or plush, heâs obsessed. the gentle curve of it. the way it twitches when he runs his fingers low. the way it stretches when you arch. heâll pull your shirt up just to kiss it. slide his palm over it slowly while youâre laying together. during sex, heâll rest his hand there, right under your ribs like heâs holding all of you together while he fucks you open.
and if youâre insecure about it, beware, samâs the guy who will not shut up about how beautiful you are. âdonât hide from me, baby,â heâll whisper, lips hot against your skin. âyou know how crazy you make me?â and then heâll show you. with his mouth, with his hands and most importantly, with his cock.
C = CUM..
okay, heâs is not some careless, casual spur-of-the-moment guy when it comes to this, nah. when sam finishes, itâs a whole experience. heâs in his feelings about it. his soul is involved.
where he likes to finish? samâs a deep finish kinda man. he wants to come inside. always. that doesnât mean he does every time (he respects boundaries 1000%) but heâs obsessed with the idea of being inside you while he fills you up. it does something to his brain. youâd feel his hips shudder and heâd bury himself all the way in, holding you still, letting out this low, broken groan.
if you let him? that whole âdripping out of youâ thing after? he stares at it. literally lays there between your legs and just watches it slowly spill out while you whine and try to close your thighs. heâll spread you open again and mutter something like, âgod, look at that⊠made you take all of it.â
how he cums? LOUD. sam does not cum quietly. all that control, all that restraint, gone. heâs whimpering, panting, moaning into your neck or your shoulder or your fucking mouth if youâre kissing when it happens. itâs deep, itâs needy, and itâs so goddamn personal.
also, i just have to mention his breeding kink. sorry. sorry but NOT sorry. that man does not casually cum in someone, he breeds. he fucks you like heâs trying to own you. doesnât even mean he wants babies, necessarily (though that fantasy might linger in his brain on bad days when he wants a life he thinks he doesnât deserve) but itâs the claiming. the act. the feeling of âi gave you everything i had.â that gets to him. hard.
D = DIRTY SECRET..
sam winchesterâs dirty secret? he fantasizes about being corrupted.
yeah, i said it. itâs not even about you being some evil little seductress or whatever, itâs about him not having to be good for once. he grew up being the âresponsible one,â the âgood son,â the guy who overthinks every moral choice. but in the dark, behind closed doors? he dreams of letting go. of someone dragging the sin out of him, teasing it out, making him beg for things heâd never say out loud.
in his head, itâs always messy. shameful. hot.
he pictures you tugging his hair while heâs on his knees. telling him he like being used. he does. he fucking does. he likes the idea of you riding him until heâs whimpering. scratching your nails down his chest while he stutters apologies for how fast he came. of you pulling him in by his dog tag or his belt loop and saying, âcâmon, sammy. be bad for me.â
heâll never admit this to you. ever. he plays it cool. maybe a little dominant, a little protective. but behind his eyes, heâs imagining what itâd feel like to lose it. to fall apart under you. to be the one whoâs teased, overstimmed, punished a little. he wants to feel like doesnât have to hold it together anymore.
and the dirtiest part of all? he touches himself to the thought of you ruining him. heâll come fast. embarrassingly fast. and then hate himself a little for how bad he wants it.
E = EXPERIENCE..
this is not a âyes or noâ question per say.
sam hasnât slept with as many people as dean, not even close. his number isnât low-low, but itâs definitely selective. heâs never been the one-night stand guy unless heâs in a full-on emotional spiral (see, post ruby, soulless sam era, or when heâs trying to shut his feelings down). he doesnât fuck just to fuck. thatâs never been his vibe. but when he does fuck?
he means it.
samâs got emotional experience. he listens to your body. he feels everything, and that makes him dangerous in bed, not âcause heâs reckless, but because heâs so focused. heâs a fast learner, a people pleaser, and painfully observant. you gasp a little louder when he sucks there? thatâs now in the rotation. your legs twitch when he angles his hips just right? he will not stop until youâre begging.
soo does he know what heâs doing? too fucking well. and he doesnât brag about it. doesnât have to. heâs experimental, but only if you are too. heâs not scared to try new things, wants to explore. communicates really well. that whole stanford brain? itâs in the bedroom too. he analyzes what makes you tick.
and donât even get me started on his stamina. that man can go multiple rounds and still have the audacity to ask, âyou okay to go again?â while your legs are shaking. long fingers, long tongue, long everything. and he uses all of it.
but what makes it even hotter? that little rookie edge that never fully goes away. heâs not cocky like dean, he gets flustered sometimes when you praise him. looks down at you with those big brown eyes like he canât believe youâre moaning his name like that. he still blushes if you say something filthy.
F = FAVORITE POSITION(S)..
1. MISSIONARY. BUT.. iâm talking feral missionary. letâs get this straight, sam loves eye contact. he wants to watch you fall apart, wants to see every flutter of your lashes, every little twitch of your mouth when you moan his name. heâs a romantic. a bit of a control freak. so missionary? when heâs deep inside you, his hands pinning your wrists into the mattress, sweat dripping down his neck, his forehead against yours while pounding into you? yeah. thatâs peak sam winchester.
that skin-on-skin closeness is everything to him. he loves the intimacy. loves the grip heâs got on you. loves that he can thrust slow or hard or hold you still and grind into you while you gasp like heâs in your lungs. he livesss for your reactions.
2. YOU ON TOP, FACING HIM (COWGIRL). again, sam likes seeing your body, your expressions, your hands on his chest. but, now youâre in control. you set the pace. and he LOVES that. heâll put his hands on your waist, let you ride him until heâs groaning through gritted teeth, whispering things like, âfuck, just like that⊠keep going, babyâŠâ
but if you get tired, he flips the script. grabs your hips, starts thrusting up into you while you whimper, overwhelmed. he lives for that whiny, fucked-out look you give him when he takes control back just enough.
3. FROM BEHIND, BUT.. make it emotional. this is like, on the bed, both of you half-naked, bodies tangled. heâs kneeling behind you, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your waist or rubbing slow circles over your clit. deep, controlled strokes while he leans in to kiss your shoulder, whisper in your ear, âyou feel so fucking good⊠you take me so well, sweetheart.â
if heâs feeling unhinged, heâll hold you by the throat and fuck into you like he needs it. but afterward? heâll press kisses down your spine like heâs sorry for ever letting go like that. because thatâs sam. gentle and a freak.
G = GOOFY..
sam is serious in the sheets⊠most of the time.
heâs focused, heâs got a fucking mission, to worship you, ruin you, and make you feel so good you forget your own name. especially if heâs in a soft or angsty headspace? he takes sex seriously. every moan, every stroke, every look feels like a fucking prayer.
BUTâŠ
he has a very chaotic goofy side that only comes out when heâs really comfortable with you. like if youâve been fucking for a while, thereâs trust, thereâs closeness, thereâs banter⊠THEN it starts.
to give out a few examples, heâll chuckle when your stomach growls mid-foreplay and be like, âwe shouldâve eaten firstâŠâ while still pulling your panties down, or heâll groan dramatically when he realizes he forgot a condom again like, âokay this is the fourth time this week, i swear iâm not doing it on purpose..â if you make a stupid joke while youâre on top of him, heâll laugh, but then thrust up suddenly and say, âstill funny?â with that smug fucking face.
and oh the post-nut giggles? oooh he gets them. not every time, but if it was extra messy or especially intense, heâll bury his face in your neck and laugh like, âjesus christ, what the hell did we just do.â itâs sweet. and itâs sexy as fuck.
H = HAIR..
letâs start with the obvious, yes, the carpet matches the damn drapes. brown. thick. yeah. heâs not fully shaved, heâs neatly groomed down there. enough that itâs never in the way, never too wild, but still super sam. you pull his pants down and youâre greeted with trimmed hair, a big cock, and the scent of his skin and itâs just so real. so raw. youâre instantly feral.
chest hair? OH MY GOD. YES. itâs there. itâs fine but itâs still enough to feel when youâre lying on him after sex. a little patch between his pecs, trailing down his stomach in a v-line of sin. that happy trailâą, it leads straight down and you follow it with your lips every time like itâs ritual.
facial hair? depends on the era, obviously. sometimes he shaves. sometimes heâs stubbly. but when heâs got that little beard scruff going on? oh yeah. you feel it burn your thighs when heâs going down on you. you feel it drag along your neck when he kisses your collarbone. you tell him not to shave and he listens. every time.
I = INTIMACY..
like i already said, sex with sam is emotionally based. and thatâs what makes it so intense. samâs the kind of lover where even if it starts rough, needy, desperate, somewhere in the middle of it always turns into something deeper on a personal level.
he looks at you like you hung the fucking moon.
when heâs inside you, itâs like the whole world disappears. nothing else matters except the way youâre holding onto him, moaning into his mouth, whispering his name like itâs the only word you remember. heâs so connected. he makes you feel like youâre the only person who has ever touched him.
kissing? always. he has to kiss you during sex. even if itâs messy, even if youâre turned away or on top, heâll find your lips. heâll guide your face to his with shaking fingers, panting against your mouth like he needs it more than air.
he says the sweetest things, too. especially when youâre not expecting it. it hits harder because he means every single fucking word.
and the thing is? he can rail you into the mattress and still make you feel like youâre the center of his universe. thatâs the duality. he holds your heart while he ruins your body. because for him, intimacy is everything. not some accidental side effect, itâs the whole reason heâs there.
J = JACK OFF..
first of all, how often? sam pretends he doesnât do it much. heâll act busy, always reading lore, training, being the worldâs biggest buzzkill, but behind closed doors, heâs so fucking down bad itâs unreal.
if heâs around you and canât have you? itâs a big (no pun intended) problem. heâll lock himself in the bunkerâs bathroom after seeing you walk around in one of his hoodies with no pants on, cheeks red, muttering to himself like, âfucking hell, get it together, sam.â
and then⊠yeah. the pants come off. fast.
when? at night. in the shower. when heâs on a hunt and misses you so bad he canât sleep. when you send him a voice message that wasnât even hot or something, but your voice alone has him rock fucking hard. and sometimes, middle of the day, unexpectedly. you laugh a certain way, bite your lip, literally anything. yeah. heâll be hard for hours and finally give in when heâs alone.
sometimes he leans back against the wall and imagines you straddling him, fingers digging into his shoulders while you whisper in his ear. other times he gets on his knees in the shower and pictures you standing over him, telling him what to do. either way, he finishes hard. with a groan he tries to muffle.
and afterward? heâs so ashamed. full hands-over-his-face, âgod, whatâs wrong with meâ energy. but it never stops him from doing it again the next night.
K = KINK(S)..
1. PRAISE KINK. sam needs to hear how good heâs making you feel. he craves that validation. âyouâre the only one who makes me feel like this.â heâll literally start panting harder, fucking deeper, the second you whimper that shit. he never grew up being told he was good enough. so in bed? it wrecks him. heâll mutter little broken replies too, all breathless, âyeah? i got you, baby⊠sâonly me, right?â (YES ITâS ONLY YOU SAMUEL.)
2. OVERSTIMULATION KINK. heâs lowkey addicted to watching you come over and over again. the first orgasm is just the beginning. heâll use his fingers, his tongue, his cock⊠and he doesnât stop until youâre shaking, pulling at him, whimpering that itâs âtoo much.â but heâs so sweet about it. he whispers, âyou can do it, baby⊠gimme one more. just one more.â and when you cry for him? thatâs when he praises you even more, calls you his good girl, pretty thing, perfect angel while he works you through it with those perfect fucking fingers.
3. LIGHT DARCYPHILIA. hear me out, if you ever cry during sex, (from the pleasure of it or from being so emotionally overwhelmed, mayhaps.) he goes into full teddy bear mode. whispers your name over and over. kisses your tears. tells you how beautiful you are, how you feel so good, how he has you. heâs never felt anything like that before, and it makes the orgasm hit harder. for both of you.
4. HAIR PULLING (ESPECIALLY HIS). if you tug his hair when youâre on top or while heâs between your legs, his hips will stutter. heâll let out this rough, low, âfuck- do that again.â and he loves to gently pull your hair too. mostly to make you look up at him while he fucks you. to get that eye contact heâs obsessed with, to see your face while he ruins you.
L = LOCATION..
1. HIS BED. this is his main HQ for sex. why? because itâs safe, private. cozy. he can take his time, strip you slowly, light a candle or two if heâs feeling it. the sheets are always warm. his pillow smells like him. thereâs usually a lore book or journal half-open on the nightstand that he shoves aside to pull you underneath him. heâll fuck you into the mattress like itâs the last time every single time.
2. THE IMPALA. he tries to not do this often because dean would literally murder him if he found out, but when youâre both desperate on a hunt, thereâs only one room available at a shitty motel and you donât wanna traumatize dean? yeah. that backseat becomes your whole universe. you straddle him, bouncing in his lap with your panties shoved to the side, and heâs gripping your hips like his life depends on it. one hand braced on the ceiling, the other shoved up your shirt, and heâs groaning your name like a prayer. everythingâs cramped and sweaty and messy and ughhh. yeah.
3. MOTEL ROOMS. you step into a cheap, flickering-light motel room and the second the door locks, sam turns into a different man. he doesnât care about taking it slow, he wants you. against the wall. on the desk. on that creaky-ass bed with the ugly blanket bunched up under your knees. he loves fucking you in front of the mirror there, too. one hand in your hair, the other on your waist while he watches you both move. and god forbid the showerâs working. thatâs where he gets especially filthy, pressing you to the wall, sucking water off your skin, fucking you under the spray until it runs cold.
4. LIBRARY TABLES IN THE BUNKER. youâre sitting in his lap. trying to âstudy.â his laptopâs open. his eyes are locked on your neck. and before you can even flip a page, his hand is sliding under your skirt. he eats you out on top of lore, bends you over old books, moans your name into the crook of your shoulder while he fills you from behind. youâre panting. heâs groaning. pages are fluttering off the desk. afterwards he marks the page and says, âweâll come back to that later.â
M = MOTIVATION..
1. YOUR VOICE. soft. whiny. teasing. sleepy. anything. you could just be reading off a menu, and heâll suddenly be thinking about your lips around his cock. you moan a little too loud during a stretch? âgoddamn itâŠâ heâs hard. and now he has to figure out how to not fuck you into the kitchen counter.
2. YOUR BRATTY BEHAVIOR. sam doesnât know how to handle it when you talk back. he just gives you that look. that âare you sure you wanna start this?â look. and the second you smirk or sass him again, youâre pinned to the mattress in 0.4 seconds with his hand on your throat and his voice in your ear, âyouâve got a mouth on you tonight, huh?â
3. NEEDING HIM. you curl into his lap and whimper âsammy, please?â he gets this overwhelmed, aching urgency to take care of you. to fuck you slow, kiss every part of you like heâs trying to fix something inside you. because what turns him on most isnât just sex. itâs that you trust him. that you want him. that youâre so fucking trusting with him and no one else gets that.
4. FEAR OF LOSING CONTROL. oh yeah. samâs biggest turn-on is that moment where he realizes he canât not have you. itâs psychological, a little dark. that feeling like, if he doesnât touch you, fuck you, hear you fall apart for him, he might lose his mind. itâs what makes the sex rougher, it makes him whisper âmine.â itâs what makes him finish so deep and so desperate that he canât even open his eyes for a second afterward.
N = NO..
anything non-consensual, degrading, or humiliating. even in roleplay, even in dirty talk, no means no. period. samâs not into anything that makes you feel small. heâs obsessed with you, babe. heâd never be able to look you in the eye after calling you names or slapping you across the face. he doesnât even like it when you say youâre not good enough.
also, public sex where you could actually get caught. heâll bend you over in a secluded spot, sure. heâll pull you into the backseat on a lonely road. but the second thereâs even a chance of someone seeing you? absolutely not. not even a little exhibitionism. not his thing. it makes him tense. heâs so protective, and the thought of you being exposed, humiliated, or seen like that by some random asshole makes his stomach twist. he wants your body to be just for him.
pet play, daddy kink, or calling you baby girl is a big no for him, too. itâs just not his language. it makes him feel weird. heâs not into calling himself âdaddy.â or calling you âbaby girl.â heâll call you baby, sweetheart, angel, his girl, but nothing that gives off weird power dynamic vibes. especially not the kind that messes with your innocence or infantilizes you. that shit makes him uncomfortable.
and meaningless sex. maybe he couldâve in his soulless era. maybe during some fucked-up grief spiral post jess or post ruby. but normally? if he doesnât care about you, heâs not hard. heâs not mentally or emotionally there. heâs an intimacy guy. he needs that trust.
O = ORAL..
letâs start with the only thing that matters, sam loves going down on you more than he loves himself. no exaggeration. that man lives between your thighs. you sit on his face and itâs like home sweet home. heâll literally moan into your pussy, his big hands gripping your thighs like theyâre sacred.
heâs slow at first, torturously slow. draws lazy circles with his tongue, looks up at you through those ridiculous lashes while you twitch. heâs obsessed. keeps his mouth on you the whole time, staring up at you with that ruined, messy face like he wants to see your soul leave your body.
and oh my god, he talks. you grind on his tongue and heâs saying shit like, âthatâs it⊠tastes so fucking good⊠look at you.â
he eats pussy like heâs starving. and when you cum, he doesnât back off. he locks you down and rides it out, tongue still working you while your legs shake around his shoulders and youâre whining his name like a prayer. if you push at his head, he growls, âuh-uh. one more. gimme one more.â
and yes, he jerks off to the memory of it later. one hand wrapped around his cock while he thinks about the way you screamed when he sucked on your clit. degenerate. oh my god who said that??âŠ
now letâs talk receiving.
he loves it. heâs just not needy about it, never ask for it, but the second your hand brushes his thigh, he spreads his legs a little wider, eyes locked on you like, are you sure? are you really gonna do this right now? and when you drop to your knees his head tips back. he moans like you just saved his life.
thereâs definitely a few times he accidentally finished faster than he wanted to and blushed for the rest of the day. but heâll make it up to you. oh baby. heâll drag you onto the bed and make you cum twice with his mouth before you can even breathe.
P = PACE..
his default pace is slow, sensual. he moves with full strokes, hips grinding slow, keeping his forehead against yours or his mouth on your neck. every thrust has weight has meaning. he needs to feel all of you, how your body grips him, how your breath catches when he rolls his hips just right, how your thighs tremble when he doesnât pull back all the way and instead just grinds into your spot again and again and again, âthat feel good, baby? yeah? thatâs it. let me take my time.â sam wants to witness you falling apart. he wants to be right there, eye-to-eye, panting into your mouth while you gasp and squirm under him.
but oh, when he gets desperateâŠ
it happens when heâs been holding back for too long. on a hunt, or when heâs been jealous, or if you tease him all day and act innocent. suddenly youâre bent over the desk, hands braced, and samâs behind you pounding into you so hard the books fall off the shelf. heâs gripping your hips, his voice tight, low, groaning things like, âthis what you wanted? hm? couldnât wait five minutes?â heâs not always vocal, but when the pace picks up, heâs feral. he curses, says your name like itâs the only word he knows. youâre not walking straight tomorrow if heâs in one of those moods.
Q = QUICKIE..
heâll pretend he doesnât like them. sam will act all rational, âiâd rather wait till weâre alone⊠i donât want to rush anything⊠itâs better when we have timeâŠâ but deep down??
that man is a fucking liar.
because when heâs hard, when heâs needy, when you press up against him in the hallway and whisper âfive minutes. please, sammy.â heâs already unzipping his jeans.
it doesnât happen super often. sam doesnât crave them as much, but when they do happen itâs because heâs so overwhelmed by you he canât think straight. when you wear something provocative, grind on him and stuff like that. suddenly heâs grabbing your hand, dragging you into the nearest room, locking the door like, âokay. bend over. now.â
how he feels after? lowkey guilty. but not for long. he wipes you down with his shirt sleeve and kisses your forehead like it was a sacred act. he always promises to make it up to you that night.
R = RISK..
public stuff / getting caught? like i said. NOPE. IMMEDIATE SHUTDOWN. sam is not into getting caught. he will risk your back being blown out in a gas station bathroom, sure, but he needs control.
but for example, fucking you with the bunker door unlocked while deanâs asleep down the hall? yes. that kind of âyou have to stay quietâ risk is alright. he gets off on the idea that heâs the only one who knows how ruined you look under him, itâs secret.
HOWEVER, THERES A FEW RISQUĂ THINGS HE WOULD DO, LIKE..
â letting you tie him up. (nervous at first, but goes feral once he trusts you. he begs so pretty.)
â phone sex in the middle of a hunt. (voice all low and strained while he jerks off in a motel bathroom.)
â letting you suck him off while heâs on the phone with someone. (pretty self explanatory.)
S = STAMINA..
first round energy?? foreplay for a solid 20 minutes minimum. fingering you slow, teasing kisses down your body, tongue between your thighs until youâre a sobbing mess and heâs still calm as hell, like, âone more before i even touch you, yeah?â
then when he finally slides in, itâs slow. he doesnât like to rush. he doesnât even care if he finishes right away, his entire goal is to make you cum at least twice before he even thinks about pulling out.
but when he gets close, he lasts. like⊠too long. youâre still on round one, shaking, nails clawed into his back, and heâs still going with sweat dripping off his jaw and his voice all raspy like, âalmost there, baby⊠just hold on for me a little longer.â like no. sir. i canât. i physically cannot take any more. and yet you do, because he holds you through every stroke and tells you how good you are the entire time.
multiple rounds?? YES. ABSOLUTELY. CONSISTENTLY. heâll go two rounds minimum on a regular night. if youâre both worked up or heâs been gone for a while⊠three, okay, four.
his recovery time is quick, too. manâs metabolism is on crack. give him 10-15 minutes and a sip of water and heâs ready again, hard against your thigh while he kisses your shoulder and whispers âcan i?â all it takes is a praise session. a little pillow talk about how fucking perfect you are. and heâs back in action.
T = TOYS..
YES. sam owns toys. he just keeps them very private. hidden in a locked drawer in his bunker room, tucked under layers of boring-ass lore books, so dean never even thinks about touching it. he doesnât have a million flashy things. his collection is intentional. a little sleek, intimidating. and all designed to make you scream.
on you? oh babe. thatâs his favorite. he uses toys like a study tool. heâs learning your body from scratch.
like, a vibrating bullet while he fucks you? he watches your face while he turns it higher. moans softly when your back arches. heâll hold it against your clit and stay buried inside you, whispering, âcome on, baby. let it go. iâve got you.â he does not move until youâve cum twice. he livess for how soaked it makes you.
on himself? he doesnât usually need them⊠but for you?? heâll do anything.
you ask him to try a cock ring? he nods, already flushed. you want to ride him while controlling the vibrator against his dick? heâs breathless, trying not to bust instantly just from how filthy it looks. and handcuffs?? donât even get him started. you cuff him up one time, sit on his face, and heâll be ruined for the rest of his life.
U = UNFAIR..
first of all, heâll spend hours making you squirm just because he loves seeing that pretty little tension in your jaw. you whimper, he smirks. you roll your hips toward him, he backs away. and when you pout and beg, âyouâre so cute when youâre needy, baby.â AND THEN DOESNâT EVEN TOUCH YOU.
thinking about physical teasing, heâs a literal terrorist. heâll touch everywhere but where you need. kiss your thighs. suck your neck. drag his fingers up your stomach and stop right before your clit, just to hear you whimper.
one of his favorite moves is holding the base of his cock, rubbing the tip through your folds for what feels like forever, grinning at how messy and needy you get. AUGHGGSGG.
V = VOLUME..
sam is a moaner⊠the first time you go down on him? he gasps, whimpers, whines. his hand tangles in your hair and heâs trying so hard to hold it together, but that first swirl of your tongue? he chokes out a guttural âfuck, babyâŠâ and it just keeps going from there.
he doesnât even realize heâs doing it. he gets so wrapped up in the moment, so into you, that his brain just shuts off and all thatâs left is raw sound.
OH AND when he goes down on you? he moans into your pussy like itâs his job. every single one of his desperate little grunts are just as much for your pleasure as his own. he gets off on your sounds. groans louder the louder you get.
however, sam is the loudest when he cums. if itâs one of those long, slow, emotional kind of finishes, heâll whimper. full-on, breathless, high-pitched whimpers. and he collapses on top of you, still murmuring, âso fucking good⊠jesus⊠i love you so muchâŠâ
W = WILD CARD..
sam has a very specific, deeply repressed kink for being caught jerking off. AND LISTEN. he doesnât want to want it. it goes against everything he thinks he is. but somewhere in the deep dark crevices of that messed-up stanford dropout brain of his, thereâs a wire that got twisted. a part of him that lives for the shame of it.
he has a whole-ass fantasy of you walking in on him. not in a hot, âoops babe caught youâ way. no!!! he wants it messy. he wants to be red-faced, panting, fist wrapped tight around his cock, back hunched, completely wrecked, sweaty hair sticking to his face and his mouth hanging open like a desperate animal.
and then the door creaks. and youâre standing there. watching. âoh my god, sam?â he freezes, hands still. âfuck, i thought you were asleep, shit-â he scrambles for a blanket but itâs too late. youâve already seen everything. and instead of looking disgusted, you tilt your head and give him a look. and thatâs it. thatâs the fantasy. that look you give him. that sick little thrill that comes with being caught with his guard down, not in control. it makes him cum so hard he blacks out.
realistically? heâd NEVER bring it up. too mortified. too wholesome on the surface. he WANTS to be humiliated, but only by you. donât be fooled though. heâs still your good boy. even when heâs trembling with guilt and cum all over his hand.
X = X-RAY..
YOU better listen carefully because im about to get real fucking specific out here.
letâs not even lie about it, this man is hung. âwhy is that shit still growing??â kind of way.
soft? itâs still intimidating. you accidentally brush his thigh and think itâs a wallet or a knife but no, maâam. itâs the holy weapon. hard? youâre staring at it like, âokay. thatâs gonna hurt. and i want it to.â
weâre talking like 8.5 inches BUT HE FUCKS LIKE ITâS TWELVE. because he knows how to use it. it curves just slightly up and hits your g-spot like heâs got a goddamn degree in it. a little too wide to comfortably deepthroat without tears but you still do it like a patriot!!
when it comes to girth, this is where heâs unreasonable. thick. like genuinely. your hand doesnât close all the way around it and the first time he slides in.
â tip? pink. a little swollen when heâs worked up.
â shaft? a couple veins, nothing too crazy, but one nasty one that runs up the underside and THROBS when heâs close.
â curve? slight, upward, aka DESTROYER OF WORLDS.
â balls? big. warm. hang low when heâs relaxed. heâll literally grunt if you play with them too long like an old man getting up from a recliner.
oh, and i imagine heâs got that silky skin but steel underneath kind of vibe. when you jerk him off, itâs smooth as hell but you can feel how rock hard he is. sometimes when heâs super turned on, it jumps in your hand. it literally twitches just from the sight of you.
overall vibe check? (âŠyes im doing this.) that dick has the audacity to look polite and wholesome and then ruin your cervix like itâs personal. it didnât ask for permission, it gave a gentle kiss and then wrecked your shit for hours. the kind of cock that ends friendships, starts wars, and has you sitting there the next morning with shaky legs and a religious awakening.
Y = YEARNING..
i feel like i may be repeating myself, (thatâs what i get for caring way too much just to write one paragraph for each headcanon.) samâs sex drive is pretty high, but itâs rooted in emotion. when he loves you, heâs in it, he wants you all. the. time. in ways that go way beyond just âiâm hornyâ and straight into âi need to be inside you to feel like a person again.â
itâs the longing that kills him. he could go days without touching you and still be craving you like heâs starving. just seeing you laugh across the bunker, feeling your hand brush his thigh under the table? heâs hard, aching. he has to excuse himself to the hallway to take a few deep breaths.
heâs SO emotionally attached to sex. he jerks off just thinking about your moans. not your tits. not even the way you ride him. just the sound you make when you whimper his name. i gotta drive that point home.
Z = ZZZ..
it depends on the type of sex.
if itâs a full-blown, body-shaking, filthy, 3 round, âiâm gonna wreck youâ session? that man is out like a fucking light. he rolls over, panting like he just ran 15 miles, wraps one massive arm around your waist, and just⊠collapses.
if itâs slow and emotional? he stays awake a little longer. just to soak it in. youâre all pressed against his chest, sticky and glowing, and heâs whispering shit like, âthat was everything.â he strokes your hair while you fall asleep first. he tucks the blanket around your shoulders and passes out with his mouth slightly open against your hair. probably drooling a little. would lick it up ngl.
but if youâre not okay? shaky? sensitive? just need aftercare?? sam will stay up all night. no matter what. cleans you up real gentle, makes sure youâre warm, gets you water, and pulls you into his chest.
ê€ summary: youâre a sharp-tongued hunter with a secret⊠one that makes you the monsterâs perfect target. when things get tense, sam figures it out⊠and decides itâs time to solve the problem himself. very thoroughly.
⯠warnings: mdni!! explicit content, virgin! reader, soft dom! sam, p in v, oral sex (fem! receiving), emotional intimacy, consent focused, aftercare so sweet youâll rot, mentions of fear/paranoia tied to virginity, dean walking in and mentally combusting, so slight voyeurism.
⯠notes: the bitch is back at it again!! also?? what the fuck is up with me writing so many virginity plots specifically for sam winchester. idk. guess.
you werenât new to creepy towns, god knows youâd seen more than your share of cornfield nightmares and rusted playgrounds. but the second the impala rolled through the cracked welcome sign, something about the place just felt wrong. it wasnât the broken sidewalks or the way the trees seemed too still, it was the air. stale. held breath kind of wrong.
ââwelcome to morrow creek. population 1,206.ââ you squinted out the window, voice flat with disdain. âcute.â
dean snorted from the driverâs seat, tapping the steering wheel with a finger. he was already bored. âbet they sell nasty homemade jam.â
âthree women,â sam muttered from the passenger seat, flipping through the thick folder of clippings in his lap. âall under twenty-five. found dead in bed, no forced entry, no signs of struggle, uh, local cops think itâs a carbon monoxide leak. but each of âem..â he paused, glancing back at you. âthey were all virgins.â
the word dropped heavy between the seats, even though dean chuckled like it was just another day at the office. âso.. weâve got a purity-sucking monster. awesome. whatâs next, a ghost nun with mommy issues?â
you leaned your head against the cold window, lips quirking into a smirk that felt a little too tight. âwell, good thing none of us fit the bill, right?..â
dean laughed under his breath, but you felt samâs eyes flick back to you, too quick to mean nothing. you didnât meet his gaze. instead, you stared hard at the road and let your smile fade.
the motel was standard horror-flick material, though. the three of you tossed your bags into one of the two-bed rooms and you immediately claimed the lumpy couch in the corner before the brothers could bicker about it.
âiâll take the death trap,â you said, dropping your bag with a thud. âiâve had worse.â
dean smirked, eyeing the couch like it owed him money. âsuit yourself, sweetheart. hope you like springs in your spine.â
sam didnât say anything, just watched you with an unreadable expression he got when he was thinking too hard. âyou sure?â he asked after a beat. his voice wasnât pushy, it was gentle, as if he wasnât asking about the couch at all.
you raised an eyebrow, already pulling out the iron blade you kept tucked beneath your jacket. âdonât worry about me, sammy. iâm not exactly delicate.â
that earned the tiniest smile from him, but his eyes didnât let go of yours right away. you turned your back before it could linger.
the three of you spent the afternoon digging through the townâs pathetic excuse for a library. sam and dean did their usual tag-team, sam sweet-talking the clerk for access to records, dean bitching about how much dust was on the damn files. you tucked yourself into a quiet corner and started scribbling connections, your fingers stained with ink and that familiar buzz of adrenaline humming under your skin.
you were good at this. better than good. youâd learned from the best, but you had your own rhythm now, your own gut instincts that whispered before the lore caught up.
you leaned over the table and tapped your notebook with the back of your pen. âlook at the dates. all three deaths were on the waxing crescent. always between midnight and 3 a.m., always in their homes. no signs of entry. that means itâs either incorporeal, or itâs being let in.â
dean leaned over your shoulder, and you caught the faint scent of his cologne. âdamn,â he muttered, lips close enough to your ear to make your skin prickle. âyouâre getting scary good at this.â
âiâve been scary good,â you replied coolly, not looking at him.
you could feel sam watching you again, from behind the half-wall of old encyclopedias. you could feel he was trying to peel something back. you didnât give him the chance.
by the time night crawled in, the motel felt colder than it shouldâve. dean was lounging on his bed with a beer, flipping channels, while sam meticulously salted the windows and doors, making sure every corner was sealed. you added your own touch, drawing sigils on the mirror with charcoal, tucking your blade under your pillow, double checking the line of salt at the threshold until it looked right. you told yourself it was just muscle memory. that you werenât nervous.
but you were. not because of the hunt.
because of you.
because the second Sam said the v-word earlier, your body went cold. not because you were ashamed, or insecure, or anything stupid like that. you just hadnât wanted them to know. you hadnât wanted them to realize you were the kind of girl this monster wanted. pure, untouched. youâd spent years building yourself into something sharp and untouchable. and now, something out there could sniff it out like blood in the water.
you cracked open a beer and forced yourself to take a long sip, masking the shake in your hands with practiced ease. then you stood. âiâm beat. gonna crash early.â
dean waved you off with a lazy salute. âsweet dreams, killer.â
sam said nothing. just watched you walk out like he already knew something you didnât want him to.
your motel room was just a few doors down, but it felt like another planet once you locked yourself inside. you did what you always did. you locked the door, salted the windows, tested your knife grip, triple-checked the lines on the floor. but your chest still felt tight. your palms were damp. your skin felt⊠exposed.
you werenât scared of dying. that had stopped being your biggest fear a long time ago. what made your stomach twist was the idea that you might get chosen. that this thing might sniff you out, and suddenly sam and dean would know. theyâd look at you differently. pity you, protect you.
and you didnât want to be protected. you wanted to be seen as dangerous.
but right now? sitting alone in a dark motel room, knees pulled up to your chest as you stared at the door like it might explode inward, you felt like prey.
a knock broke the silence. your head snapped up.
âhey⊠itâs me.â samâs voice was low through the door, almost gentle. he already knew not to scare you more than you were.
you hesitated, heart hammering. âwhat the hell, sam?â
âi saw that expression when you left,â he said. âyou okay?â
the words caught in your throat. you didnât know how to lie to him right now. there was a long pause. thank fuck he didnât push.
you stood slowly, crossed the room on quiet feet, and undid the lock. your hand trembled just slightly on the doorknob before you opened it.
ââŠcome in.â
sam stepped inside slowly. honestly, he wasnât sure youâd actually let him. his eyes scanned the room, your over-prepared salt lines, the open blade on the nightstand, the half-drunk beer. then they found you again. that same look.
and that, somehow, felt even worse.
he stood in the middle of your motel room like he didnât want to make the first move.
âyou gonna say something?â you asked, voice quiet but sharp. defensive. if he touched the wrong nerve, you might shatter or explode. you werenât sure which.
samâs gaze softened a little, but it didnât lose focus. âdid you really come in here just to sleep?â
you turned away, busying yourself by pretending to adjust the salt line by the window. âwhat the hell does that mean?â
âyouâre scared,â he said, blunt now. ânot of the hunt, or the monster. of being its target. and I think you already know why.â
you felt your pulse in your throat, your fingers twitching at your sides. âso what? you gonna tell dean? put me on some kinda leash? lock me in the car like a liability?â
he was behind you before you even heard his steps, his voice brushed close to your neck. âno. iâm not gonna tell him anything. iâm not here to judge you. iâm here becauseâŠâ he paused, like he needed to find the exact words. âbecause if you are what this thingâs looking for, that means youâre in danger. and iâm not letting anything happen to you.â
you turned to face him, and suddenly he was close, his chest nearly brushing yours, his hand ghosting over the air between you. âyou donât get it,â you said quietly. âyou donât know what itâs like⊠walking around with this stupid secret. being the only one in the room who hasnât-.. who is-..â
âa fuckinâ virgin?â sam finished for you, gently but without hesitation. âyeah, i got that part.â
your cheeks burned, but you didnât look away. ââŠyou think it makes me weak, donât you?â
âno,â he said, voice low and certain. âi think it makes you brave as hell for coming out here and hunting with us anyway. for pretending like it doesnât matter when i can tell itâs tearing you apart inside.â
you felt something split wide open in your chest. a dam cracking. you were so tired of holding it in. of hiding behind sharp jokes and harder walls.
âi didnât plan on staying that way forever,â you murmured. âit just⊠didnât happen. didnât feel right. not yet.â
samâs thumb brushed your jaw. âand now?â
you swallowed. looked up at him through your lashes. ânow i feel like a goddamn target. like itâs this thing hanging over me and, sam, i hate it. i hate being afraid.â
his lips hovered close to yours, voice a whisper against your skin. âthen let me help.â
you stared at him. âyou donât have to-â
âi want to.â
there was no hesitation in his eyes. no lust-fueled pressure. he leaned in, mouth catching yours in a kiss that was patient but deep, like heâd been holding it back for too long. you melted against him before you could even think, hands grabbing the front of his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring you.
his tongue brushed yours and the groan he let out was filthy, like the taste of you knocked the breath out of him. âyou taste so fucking sweet,â he muttered against your lips. âbeen wondering what itâd feel like to kiss that mouth since you first mouthed off at me.â
you pulled back slightly, breathless. âthat was, like⊠day three.â
sam smiled, hand sliding down to the curve of your hip. âyeah. iâm patient.â
you tugged his shirt off, finally getting your hands on all that muscle he kept hidden under layers. his stomach taut under your fingers as he stepped you back toward the bed.
âyou sure about this?â he asked one last time, voice rough but gentle.
you nodded. âi donât want it to be fear that takes it away from me. i want you.â
that did something to him. suddenly he was all over you, mouth on your neck, hands gripping your thighs as he lifted you onto the bed like you weighed nothing. he kissed down your body like a promise. every touch was careful and intentional, but so hungry. and when he finally pushed your thighs apart and knelt between them, he looked up at you like he was about to ruin you.
âiâm gonna make this good for you,â he murmured, voice so deep it made your toes curl. âso good you forget why you were scared at all. so good it wonât matter that you waited this long.â
you barely managed to gasp before his mouth was on you. hot, skilled, tongue licking long deliberate strokes on your pussy. he was memorizing every single sound you made. you clawed at the sheets, moaning his name like a prayer, and he just held you open with those strong hands, eating you out. heâd literally die if you pulled away.
and when you finally came, shaking and gasping, he kissed back up your body, slow and sweet. âiâve got you,â he whispered, brushing his lips over your jaw. âlet me take care of the rest.â
sam moved over you like heâd been dreaming about it. until now, until your back was arched against the bed and his body was finally settled between your thighs, all warmth with pressure and want. the motel room around you felt like it didnât matter. the only thing real was him.
âyou good?â he asked again, voice wrecked and whisper-rough, his fingers brushing your cheek while his other hand slowly guided his cock along your folds, teasing. not out of cruelty, but to give you time to breathe.
you nodded, but your voice cracked a little when you said, âyeah. i want it.â
he kissed you again, slower this time, like he was trying to calm your heartbeat with his mouth. âgonna go real slow,â he murmured, forehead pressed to yours. âyou tell me if you want me to stop. you say the word, and i back off. no questions.â
âi wonât,â you whispered, hips already lifting to meet him. âi want you, sam. just you.â
the first push was gentle. he went slow, careful, watching your face the entire time, not even trying to hide how hard he was breathing. you were tight, hot, the stretch just on the edge of too much, and the feeling of him filling you had your eyes rolling back almost instantly.
âoh my god,â you gasped, fingers gripping his shoulders. âsam..â
âi know, baby. i know.â his voice was tight, controlled, but he was barely holding back a growl. âyou feel-fuck-you feel perfect.â
he paused once he was buried inside, letting you adjust, kissing your neck and running one hand slowly up your thigh like it would help you relax. âbreathe,â he whispered. âyouâre doinâ so fuckinâ good.â
you were trembling, half from nerves, half from the feeling of him, all of him, seated so deep inside you, stretching you open in a way that felt devastating and intimate all at once. you didnât even realize tears were brimming at your lashes until sam kissed one off your cheek. âyou okay?â he murmured, thumb brushing under your eye again.
âiâm perfect,â you whispered. âjust, holy fuck, donât stop.â
his hips pulled back slowly, and when he pushed in again, it was smoother. still deliberate, but deeper, more rhythmic, trying to find his pace with you, tuning his body to yours. you wrapped your legs around his waist and let your head fall back, moaning shamelessly as he started fucking you in deep, slow strokes that made your breath hitch every time he bottomed out.
âthatâs it,â he grunted, forehead still pressed to yours, sweat beading at his temple. âtaking me so fuckinâ well, baby⊠iâve got you. just let go.â
you couldnât think. couldnât speak. the way he was moving slow, his name kept falling from your lips in a quiet chant, the only word you could seem to remember.
samâs hand slid between your bodies, thumb pressing soft circles into your clit. you gasped, body jolting, and he smiled against your neck. âthat feel good, sweetheart?â he whispered. âyou like when i touch you like this?â
âyesyes, please, donât stop-â your voice broke again as pleasure started coiling hot and heavy in your belly. âiâm gonna, sam..â
âiâve got you,â he said again, voice so loving it hurt. âyou can let go. youâre safe.â
you came around him hard, clenching so tightly around his cock that he had to bite his lip to keep it together. your whole body tensed, then collapsed under him as you shook and gasped through it, and he held you like you were something precious, whispering through every twitch.
âthatâs it, thatâs my girl⊠fuck, baby, youâre so beautiful like thisâŠâ
he kept moving, chasing his own high now, breath stuttering as he fucked into you deeper, a little faster, but never rough. his face was buried in your neck, hand gripping your thigh, and when he came, it was with a full-body groan. he buried himself to the hilt, hips stuttering, panting like heâd just run a marathon.
and then⊠silence.
heavy breathing. the weight of him on top of you, solid and real and safe. you ran your fingers through his hair, and he let out the softest sound, content, like he didnât want to move.
he stayed draped over you, his hand still curled around your waist like he needed to keep you close in case you disappeared. you felt wrecked, in the best way.
after a while, sam leaned up on his elbow, pushing the sweaty hair off your forehead, looking down at you like you were made of fucking starlight. âyou still okay?â he whispered, and his voice was so gentle, so low and fond, it made your throat get tight.
âmhm,â you mumbled, already half-asleep, still spread out and naked beneath him. âi think you fixed me.â
sam chuckled, brushing his lips over your temple. âiâm a healer now?â
âliterally,â you sighed. âvirginity demon who?â
he kissed your jaw. âoh, the spirit is banished, alright. world saved.â
you rolled into him, lazy grin pulling at your lips. âone orgasm at a time.â
ââŠone?â
you blinked up at him, then immediately burst out laughing as he smirked like the smug bastard he was. âokay, chill, sam,â you groaned. âmy bodyâs not even functioning yet.â
âiâll give you thirty minutes,â he muttered, pulling you into his chest, tucking the blanket around both of you like you werenât still sticky and sweaty and fucked dumb.
âiâm gonna fall asleep like this,â you whispered, fingers drawing little shapes on his bare chest.
âgood. you should.â his voice was all honey again. âyouâre safe with me.â
and that was the last thing you heard before you drifted off, wrapped in samâs arms, thoroughly wrecked and absolutely ruined for anyone who wasnât a 6â4â soft-spoken demon hunter who fucked like he was trying to put your soul back together.
it felt nice finally falling asleep. your legs were tangled with samâs, your head tucked under his chin, and his hand was still splayed across your ass like it belonged there. which, to be fair, it did. the room was still warm with sex and body heat and whatever leftover cologne he wore that now lived in your hair.
until the door slammed open like it was kicked by a cop.
âyou have got to be kidding me.â
you screamed. sam jolted awake with military precision, reaching for the knife on the nightstand in one motion while covering you with his body in the next.
and standing in the doorway, framed by shitty motel light and holding a crumpled paper bag full of snacks, was dean winchester.
mouth open. face full of regret.
you just stared at each other.
ââŠdude,â sam said groggily, arm still around you like he didnât have his whole ass out under the sheet. âwhat the fuck.â
dean blinked again. ânah.â
he turned around immediately. stared at the wall. took a deep breath.
âoh, no, no no no, this is not happening. this is not how I start my fuckinâ morning. i got beef jerky and a coke and now I have to go pour bleach in my brain because my little brother decided to go all lust in the dust with you.â
you groaned, flopping onto your back and dragging the sheet over your head like a corpse. âplease kill me. please kill me now.â
âdonât tempt me.â dean yelled, still facing the wall with his arms out like he was trying to keep a crime scene untouched. âi trusted you! you were the normal one! you sat next to me during stakeouts! you made fun of him with me! what the hell?!â
âi donât think Iâve ever made fun of sam with you-â you started to say, but dean spun around dramatically, index finger raised like a furious little league coach.
âdonât lie to me now, sex goblin! i saw what i saw, and i canât ever go back from that!â
sam had the audacity to rub his eyes and mumble, âyou couldâve knocked, dude.â
âoh, donât you start,â dean snapped, pacing now. âiâve heard you. i knew you were in here. i was trying to be respectful. i thought, âhey, they probably just fell asleep watching TV, maybe theyâre sharing the room, maybe samâs just being weird and overprotective, maybe she had a nightmare..â BUT NO.â
he spun to face you both again, looking personally betrayed.
âyâall were out here doing the monster mash and i walked in ten seconds too late to stop my retinas from dissolving.â
you peeked out from under the covers. âwe didnât mean for you to find out this way.â
âoh really?â dean scoffed. âhow were you planning to tell me? group text? powerpoint? smoke signals from your fucking bedroom?!â
sam sighed. âdean-â
âno. no âdean.â i need castiel to erase the last ten minutes of my life.â
he turned back toward the door, paused dramatically, and looked over his shoulder with the most betrayed face known to man.
âi hope you know,â he said solemnly, âthat i will never sit on that bed again.â
ê€ summary: a few drinks in and youâre just tipsy enough to tease dean a little too much. he notices. and when you get back to the hotel? he makes sure you remember exactly who owns you.
⯠warnings: mdni!! explicit content, dom! dean, rough sex, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, light choking, heavyy dumbification, name-calling (slut, good girl, etc.), spit in mouth, creampie, messy messy messy, dean is a certified munchâą.
⯠notes: bitch idk what came over me i wrote this with my hand down my pants iâm not even kidding. girl i need help. this fic should not exist but here it is.
the door had barely slammed shut behind you when dean was on you like a man unhinged. you barely had time to let out a gasp before his hands were everywhere, gripping your hips, dragging you backwards, practically throwing you onto the edge of the hotel bed.
âdonât fucking move,â he growled, sinking to his knees between your legs, yanking your skirt up so fast the fabric damn near tore. âi knew you were acting up for a reason. all needy ân squirmy in the damn car. you shouldâve told me you were this wet, sweetheart.â
before you could say a word, his mouth was on your cunt. dean fucking devoured you like you were the only thing keeping him alive. his tongue worked deep, curling and dragging inside you like he was licking into the core of your soul, while his nose pressed tight against your clit, giving you no room to breathe.
âoh my god, de-â
your voice cracked into a high, wrecked whine, legs trembling, back arching off the bed, but he just growled, shaking his head slightly while he sucked at your clit until your vision went white. the sounds were obscene, slurping like he wanted everyone on the floor to hear just how messy he could get for you.
âkeep your legs open,â he grunted into you, voice muffled by your pussy. âwanna feel you cum on my tongue. right fuckinâ now.â
you came so hard it was embarrassing. thighs clamped around his head, moaning so loud you swore the damn windows rattled. but dean didnât stop. he wouldnât stop.
he dragged your limp body further up the bed like you weighed nothing, and before you could even catch a breath, he was on top of you, cock already out and rock hard, brushing against your overstimulated pussy.
âyou thought i was done?â he rasped, eyes burning into yours. ânah, baby. youâre gonna take all of it.â
and he shoved inside, one brutal thrust, balls deep, stretching you open until you cried. he didnât give you time to adjust. every inch of you shook as he pounded into you like he hated you.
his hand came up to your throat, gripping just enough to make your head spin, while his hips snapped forward in ruthless, punishing strokes that left no space between your bodies. you were wrecked, babbling nonsense, mouth open but no sound coming out.
âthatâs it,â he groaned. âfuckinâ take it. you love this, donât you? my good little girl, so tight, so fuckinâ wet for me.â
his other hand snaked under your knee, pinning your leg up high, and the new angle had his cock hitting deep, right against that sweet spot that made you scream.
he was using you now, chasing his own high. dripping sweat onto your chest, panting through gritted teeth as your pussy clenched around him like a vice. âfucking hell,â he growled, slamming into you harder. âthis pussyâs mine. say it. say it, sweetheart.â
âm-mine.. no, yours! itâs yours, de, i swear-!â
âdamn right it is.â
and then he spit in your mouth, without warning. it was so degrading, and your whole body shivered with how nasty it made you feel. he kissed you right after, tongue deep, like he couldnât get enough of your taste mixed with his.
âiâm gonna cum so deep you feel it tomorrow morning,â he hissed into your ear. âmaybe Iâll fuck you again at breakfast, bend you over that goddamn minibar while youâre still wearing my shirt.â
his thrusts turned sloppy. desperate. he bit your shoulder, your neck, your jaw. marking you like he wanted the whole world to know who you belonged to. and when he came? oh, baby, he roared.
pressed in all the way, cock twitching as he filled you up, hips grinding in slow circles to make sure not a drop slipped out, buried so deep you swore you could feel it in your stomach, rutting through every spasm like he wanted to mark your womb with his name.
when he finally pulled out, he looked down at your used, twitching body with the dirtiest fucking smirk.
âdrunk little slut,â he whispered, dragging two fingers through the mess between your thighs. âletâs see how many more times i can make you cry tonight.â
ê€ summary: itâs your first time with sam. heâs nervous, youâre nervous, but you love each other so much it hurts. itâs slow, itâs soft, heâs hard (oops), and everything he does is full of love.
⯠warnings: mdni!! explicit content, lowkey sub! sam, honestly pretty realistic first time, me thinks, emotional intimacy, desperate praise, sam winchester fucking whimpers, body worship, extreme softboy behavior, p in v, samâs big⊠yeah. just that.
⯠notes: idk what happened but i blacked out and suddenly sam winchester was soft and hard at the same time. this is very much written with stanford sam in mind. (sorry jess!! love you!! and so do ceilings!! ËËàŠË)
It was quiet in the bedroom, the kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a blanket. The only light came from the little lamp on the dresser, casting soft amber glows against the walls, and Samâs shadow moved across it as he came back from the bathroom, freshly showered, wearing a worn gray t-shirt and sweatpants that hung just a little low on his hips.
He looked at you with that warm, boyish smile, the one that always made your chest ache. The kind that said I love you, even when he hadnât said it out loud yet that day.
âYou comfy?â he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you, brushing his fingers lightly over your ankle.
You nodded, stretching a little under the blanket. âI am now.â
He chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. âGood.â
You watched him for a moment. The way his hair curled slightly behind his ears. The curve of his lips. His handsâ big, careful, resting gently on your leg like he didnât want to startle you. Youâd been together for a while now, but something about tonight felt different. Softer. Slower. Like everything had paused just so you could feel it more.
You reached for him, and he came willingly, laying down beside you, head resting on his arm, his body warm against yours. He smelled like cedarwood and fresh air, like comfort and safety and everything good.
âI missed you today,â you whispered, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw.
âI missed you too,â he said, turning his face slightly to kiss your palm. âAll day. Kept thinkinâ about you.â
Your heart fluttered.
He looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. Like he could see straight through you and still wanted to hold every piece.
His hand found your waist, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt, but not moving further. Just resting there. His thumb stroked over the fabric, slow and soft.
âCan I hold you like this for a while?â he asked gently.
You nodded, cheeks warm.
He pulled you in, wrapping his arms around you completely, your face tucked under his chin, your legs tangled together. His hands moved slowâ one at your lower back, the other cradling the back of your head like you were something fragile. He didnât try anything else. He just held you.
âI love the way you feel in my arms,â he whispered after a moment, lips brushing your hair. âLike Iâm right where Iâm supposed to be.â
You sighed into his chest, your body melting into his. It wasnât about heat or urgency. It was about being seen. About being wanted in the gentlest way.
He tilted your chin up, just a little, and kissed youâ slow and sweet. Not deep, not rushed. Just enough to make your lips part and your breath catch.
His breath hitched the second your hips shifted under him, your thighs parting a little wider as he nestled between them. He was already hard, and god, you could feel it, the thick press of him against your core, even through the thin layer of fabric still between you.
âSorry,â Sam whispered, his voice wrecked with need, his forehead pressing into your shoulder. âI didnât mean to⊠itâs justâŠâ
You reached up and cupped his cheek, heart thudding in your chest, âI want you to,â you said softly. âI want all of you.â
He shivered like the words physically hit him. His eyes fluttered shut, his hand brushing your cheek like he needed to ground himself.
âIâve never wanted anything more,â he whispered. âBut I just⊠I need to go slow. Youâre so important to me.â
You nodded, lifting your hips toward him in a silent invitation, and thatâs when he let out the softest, neediest little moan youâd ever heard from him, like he was trying so hard to hold back but couldnât help the way his body was reacting.
He pulled back just enough to slide off his boxers, and when you looked down and saw him, your breath caught. Thick. Heavy. Hard in a way that made your thighs tremble just from imagining how itâd feel.
Sam blushed, actually blushed, cheeks pink, eyes darting away for a second like he was embarrassed.
âI-itâs okay if itâs too much,â he said gently, rubbing your side. âIâll stop if you want. I justââ his breath caught again, âI wanna make love to you. Not just rush through it.â
Your hands slid down his stomach, slow, and wrapped around the base of him, and he groaned, hips jerking forward just slightly.
âYouâre perfect,â you whispered. âPlease, Sam⊠just go slow like you said.â
He kissed you again, deeper this time, body pressing down against yours, as you quickly disregarded your shorts and panties. You could feel the head of him slipping through your folds, dragging through the slickness that had built between your thighs, and he gasped against your lips.
âYouâre so warm,â he breathed. âSo wet for me⊠I canât believe I get to do this with you.â
When he finally pushed in, slowly, carefully, you felt the stretch immediately. He was thick, filling you inch by inch, and he kept stopping to make sure you were okay, brushing your hair back, whispering little praises.
âYouâre doing so good, sweetheart,â he murmured. âJust a little more, almost thereâŠâ
He was trembling above you by the time he was all the way in, buried deep and still, his arms locked on either side of your head.
âY-you feel so good,â he said, voice shaking. âIâve never⊠itâs never felt like this.â
You clung to him, your body trying to adjust, and when he finally started to move, just barely rocking his hips, shallow little thrusts, it already felt like too much.
So slow. So deep. So full.
You gasped, eyes fluttering shut, and Sam kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your mouth. âIs that okay?â he asked between kisses, his voice rough but still so gentle. âIâm not hurting you, right?â
You shook your head, breathless. âNoâfeels so good, Sam.â
He let out this soft, desperate sound, hips rolling harder, deeper, grinding into you just enough to make your back arch and your fingers clutch at his shoulders.
âIâm sorryâIâm trying to go slow,â he mumbled against your skin, âbut youâre just so tight⊠and warm⊠and Iâm already so close, babyâŠâ
His words made you clench around him, and he felt it, his whole body jolting, breath stuttering.
âOhâjust like that,â he gasped. âD-donât move too muchâI wonât lastâŠâ
His rhythm stuttered, hips grinding in deep, his forehead pressed to yours as he whimpered your name.
âIâm gonnaâoh GodâIâm gonna come already,â he whispered, voice broken. âYouâre too perfect. Youâre everythingâŠâ
And when he finally let go, it was messy. His whole body trembled, cock pulsing deep inside you as he filled you completely, his mouth never leaving yours. He moaned your name, soft and needy, like he was falling apart right there in your arms.
Afterward, he stayed buried inside you, breathing hard, fingers still brushing your cheek.
âI didnât mean to finish that fast,â he mumbled, blushing. âYou just⊠you felt like heaven.â
You smiled, pulling him closer. âIt was perfect.â
ê€ summary: after giving birth, you are utterly exhausted but safe in deanâs arms, whoâs the proudest, most supportive dad ever. through the haze of sleepless nights and overwhelming love, dean proves heâs got both your and babyâs back.
⯠warnings: mentions of childbirth and exhaustion (no graphic medical details, but some emotional rawness), emotional vulnerability & tearful moments, slow-building parenthood fluff, hints of postpartum struggle, focus on comfort, love, and care.
⯠notes: hi loves!! so please tell me im not the only one thatâs borderline obsessed with kali uchis?? ilysmih is my favorite song on her recent album!! anywayzz hope this gives you all the warm fuzzies.
You donât even remember falling asleep. Just the weight of everything crashing down once the room quieted, the pressure behind your eyes, the way your chest felt like it had been split open and filled with something too big to hold. There were voices. Nurses, footsteps, maybe even soft crying, and then nothing.
Then warmth.
Not the kind that blankets you, but the kind that feels alive. A palm brushing your forehead, calloused but careful. Fingers threading through your messy hair like you were something fragile. Thatâs what woke you. That, and his voice.
âHey, mama.â
Deanâs voice wasnât loud, it was barely there. Like if he spoke too hard, the moment would shatter. His eyes were red, but he wasnât trying to hide it. He stood at the edge of the bed, hands shoved into his jacket pockets like he didnât know what to do with them, eyes locked on the tiny bundle resting on your chest.
He looked at you like heâd been struck. Like heâd seen a ghost and fallen in love with it.
âYouâ baby, you did it.â
You blinked slow, trying to pull yourself up on your elbows, but your body protested instantly. Everything ached. Your muscles, your head, even your teeth. Dean noticed immediately, rushing to your side and pressing a hand to your shoulder, shaking his head.
âNo, donâtâ donât move. I got you. Just rest. Just breathe.â
And then he reached down; gently, reverently, and picked up the baby. Like it was holy. His hands were big around them, careful, sure. His breath caught in his throat the second he had them cradled against his chest.
âOh my god,â he whispered. âOh my god, look at you.â
There was a beat. The kind of silence that means everything. And then he laughed, low and breathless and a little broken. The kind of laugh you let out when youâre looking at something you never thought youâd get to hold.
âYou made this,â he whispered, glancing at you like you were the moon. âYou made this, sweetheart. Jesus.â
The baby made this tiny, sleepy noise, and Deanâs whole body curled in around them. Like instinct. Like it was the only thing his body knew how to do anymore. He sat on the edge of your bed, eyes wide and heart in his throat, and rocked the baby with a rhythm that was too natural to be learned.
âI didnât even know it was possible to love something this fast,â he said, voice cracking. âDidnât know it could hit like this.â
You were so tired. Every blink felt like it might be the last before sleep pulled you under again. But you didnât want to miss a second. Not this. Not him.
Dean looked over at you, tears sliding down his cheeks like they didnât even belong to him. âYouâre the strongest person Iâve ever met,â he said. âYouâre so fuckinâ brave. I donât know how I got this lucky, but I swear to God Iâm gonna spend the rest of my life making sure you know.â
He leaned over, kissed your temple. His lips stayed there for a while. Breathing you in. Like he needed proof this was real. Like if he let go, he might wake up in the Impala in some cheap motel parking lot, and this would all disappear.
Then he whispered something to the baby. Too quiet to catch. Just soft enough that you knew it was sacred.
When he sat back again, he started humming. Some old rock ballad you couldnât place through the fog in your brain. He rocked the baby like it was muscle memory, smiling down like heâd just been given the world wrapped in hospital blankets.
âIâm your dad,â he told them, chuckling to himself. âIâm your dad, holy shit.â he looked back at you again, eyes soft, âAnd youâre their mama. The love of my life. My girl.â
And maybe it was the exhaustion, or the hormones, or the rawness of it all, but you cried. Quietly. Just tears slipping out the sides of your eyes while you laid there, overwhelmed and in love and full of something you couldnât name.
Dean didnât panic. Didnât freak. He just reached for your hand and kissed it like heâd do it a million times more. âSleep, sweetheart,â he murmured. âWe got you. Me and this little beanâ weâre on night shift.â
You let your eyes fall shut, finally.
And the last thing you heard before sleep took you under was Dean Winchester singing your baby to sleep with a voice meant for backroads and lullabies.
The next morning feels like a dream dipped in gold. Youâre not even sure what time it is. Could be noon, could be 4 AM, but you wake up to the sound of a soft knock, the rustle of flannel, and a babyâs breathy coo. Everything hurts less. Or maybe it still hurts, but it doesnât matter anymore. Not with the way Dean looks standing by the window, sunlight catching the edge of his jaw, holding your baby like he was made to.
Heâs swaying again. Same slow rhythm. Same whisper-singing under his breath like heâs telling secrets only the two of them get to hear. The babyâs nestled against his chest, all tucked into a blanket that he probably rewrapped five times to get perfect. He looks down at them like heâs memorizing everything; the tiny lashes, the soft fists, the weird little way their nose scrunches when they yawn. And then he sees you.
âHey, sleepy girl,â he says, voice soft like syrup. âWe missed you.â
You blink at him, hazy and warm, and he crosses the room like he canât stand being that far from you. He leans down and kisses your forehead like itâs instinct, like heâd do it every hour on the hour if you let him. Heâs so gentle when he sits beside you, so proud it hurts to look at him.
âShe smiled,â he whispers like itâs breaking news. âI mean, probably gas or something, but still. She smiled. And sheâs got your nose. Totally. Itâs not up for debate.â
Your heart folds in on itself. You let him pass the baby to you, watching the way his hands linger for a second longer than they need to. He doesnât want to let go. You donât blame him.
And then, chaos, but the tiniest version of it. A nurse walks in with discharge forms. Youâre cleared. Youâre going home.
Deanâs whole face lights up like a Christmas tree. âWe get to take her with us?â he asks, like she might still belong to the hospital. The nurse laughs. âSheâs yours, dad.â
Dad.
That word hits him hard. You see it, the way he swallows it down, the way it echoes in his chest like thunder. He helps you dress, one hand always hovering at your back, as if the world might hurt you if he lets you go for a second.
And when itâs time to buckle the baby into the car seat, he hovers like heâs defusing a bomb. Arms crossed, pacing, muttering to himself. âToo tight? Is it too tight? Is her neck gonna snap? Holy shit, is this thing even safe?â
You have to gently lay a hand on his arm to stop him from spiraling. âDean. Sheâs fine. You did good.â
He still insists on sitting in the backseat the whole drive home, one hand on the babyâs chest, the other gripping the side of the car seat like he could shield her from gravity itself. Youâre drivingâ donât ask how that happened, and he keeps glancing at you through the mirror like youâre some kind of divine miracle.
âYou sure youâre okay?â he asks every two minutes. âYou need water? Food? A blanket? Jesus, I shouldâve packed a cooler.â
Home is a safehouse two towns over. A small one. Quiet. Warm wood floors, soft lamps, the faint smell of sage and dust. Dean spent a week prepping it before the due date. Baby clothes folded into drawers, bottles lined up on the counter, a rocking chair in the corner that creaks with love.
He carries the baby in like sheâs made of glass. Youâre close behind, a little wobbly, but smiling. And the second you walk through the door, Dean exhales like heâs been holding his breath since the hospital.
âWe did it,â he says. His voice cracks again. âWe fuckinâ did it.â
You collapse on the couch, baby in your arms, body tired and soul full. Dean disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a peanut butter sandwich cut into triangles. âBest I could do,â he shrugs, and sits beside you like heâs been waiting his whole life to do exactly this.
Youâre both quiet for a while. The babyâs breathing softens. The room is golden with early evening light. Dean reaches over and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. âYouâre my whole world, yâknow that?â he murmurs. âBoth of you. Thatâs it. Thatâs the whole thing.â
And then, when the baby makes that tiny little noise again; that sleepy, airy half-laugh that sounds like sheâs dreaming something sweetâ Dean just loses it. Tears. No warning. Just full-on tears sliding down his cheeks as he laughs softly and presses a kiss to your temple.
âI didnât know love could feel like this,â he says, voice thick. âI didnât know I could feel like this. But Iâm never going back.â
You nod, eyes full. Youâre never going back either.
You look down at your babyâ your baby, and you still canât believe it. That theyâre real. That they came from you. That you carried them, made space in your body, let your bones shift and stretch just to bring them here.
And now theyâre here. Tiny and perfect and loud in the most beautiful way.
Youâre not the same. You know that. Youâre not just you anymore. Youâre someoneâs home now. Youâre the arms theyâll fall asleep in. The voice theyâll search for in a crowd. The one whoâll know every cry, every little sigh, every look on their face before they even learn how to talk.
Itâs terrifying. And holy. And so gentle it makes your hands shake.
You think about the way Dean looked at you in the hospital. How he still looks at you, like youâre the sun. The way he calls you mama now, like itâs always belonged to you. Like itâs more than just a title, itâs sacred. He doesnât say it casually. He says it like itâs a promise.
There are moments, especially in the quiet, where you just hold your baby against your chest and cry. Not because youâre sad. But because itâs all too big. Because your love doesnât have words big enough. Because youâll never be able to explain itâ but youâll spend your life showing it.
This is what love is. What itâs meant to be. Loud and soft all at once. A song only the three of you know.
You kiss the top of your babyâs head and whisper, âI love you so much it hurts.â
ê€ summary: dean comes home wrecked after a rough hunt. heâs exhausted, and barely holding it together; until you drop to your knees and remind him exactly who he belongs to. basically, desperate fucking in a shitty motel room.
⯠warnings: mdni!! explicit smut, soft dom! dean, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, praise kink, like, actually so much praise itâs embarrassing, mutual desperation, floor sex, deanâs very unrealistic stamina, creampie, this fic is 50% sex and 50% feelings, aftercare included bc weâre not animals.
⯠notes: i wrote this while kicking my feet in the air like a deranged housewife. i am unwell. may we all have a dean winchester to stuff us full and kiss us slow after. (ïœĄ- .âą)
You hear his boots long before he opens the motel door.
The low, dragging thump of them, heavy like his bodyâs barely holding together. The hunt had gone bad; not fatal, but messy. Too many vamps. Too much blood. Dean didnât call. Didnât text. You waited by the window for hours, pacing in his shirt, heart in your throat, praying.
And now heâs here.
He kicks the door shut behind him and leans against it like itâs the only thing keeping him upright. Heâs a mess, mud on his jeans, dried blood across his temple, knuckles cracked open and dripping. That forest green shirt you like so much is torn across the chest, and his mouth is set in this brutal, tired line.
But when he sees youâ bare legs, wide eyes, that old tee of his riding too high on your thighs, his whole body softens. Just a little.
âHey, sweetheart,â he says low, like heâs afraid to say it too loud and scare you off. âDidnât mean to scare you.â
You cross the room without thinking, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face to his chest. Heâs solid and warm and alive, and you can finally breathe again.
âI thought you wereââ you start, but he cuts you off with a kiss to your hair.
âI know,â he whispers. âIâm here.â
He leans back just enough to look at you, thumb brushing under your eye like he knows youâve been crying. Then his gaze drops. To your mouth, to the way your hands are already sliding under his shirt, touching him like heâs precious.
And heâs so damn tired, but the way you look at him? Like heâs still your hero, even bloody and broken? He canât help it. He starts to get hard right there.
âYou wanna take care of me, baby?â His voice is lower now, rougher, like itâs dragging over gravel. âThat what you need?â
You donât answer. You just sink to your knees in front of him, hands already tugging at his belt, slow and deliberate.
âOhh, fuck,â he groans, his head falling back for just a second. âKnew youâd do this. Knew youâd be waiting, fuckinâ angel on her knees, huh?â
You free him from his jeans, and heâs already half-hard, thick and heavy in your hand. The sight of it makes your mouth water. You pump him once, twice, slow and gentle, before leaning in and licking a long stripe from base to tip.
Dean shudders, one big hand finding the back of your head. Not to push. Just to feel. âJesus, sweetheart. You got no idea what you do to me..â
You take him in slowly, letting the weight of him fill your mouth, your jaw going slack as he hits the back of your throat. His hips twitch forward, like his bodyâs reacting before he can even think.
âGod, your mouth. Your fuckinâ mouthâs made for me,â he groans, jaw tight. âSo fuckinâ warm. So good.â
You hum around him, sucking deep and wet, letting drool spill down your chin just to hear him swear again. Your fingers dig into his thighs for balance as he gets harder, thicker on your tongue, his breathing going rough.
âYouâre my fuckinâ dream, yâknow that?â he pants, voice cracked with emotion. âLittle thing like you⊠taking me this deep? Pretty eyes, pretty lips, just for me.â
You moan softly, and the vibration makes him snap, his hand tightening in your hair as his thighs tense. Heâs fighting not to fuck your mouth right there, and you can feel it in the way his hips rock forward once, then again.
âShitâshit, baby, Iâm not gonna last if you keepââ
You donât let up. You look up at him through your lashes, cheeks hollowing as you swallow him deep, spit pooling down your chin, dripping onto your chest.
âOh, fuck, thatâs itâ fuck, mâgonna cumâ shit, babyâ fuckinâ take itââ He groans so deep it rattles in his chest, and then heâs spilling down your throat, his hand gripping your hair like itâs the only thing anchoring him to earth. You swallow every drop, not breaking eye contact once.
You pull off with a soft pop, licking your lips, eyes glassy with affection and spit and heat. Dean sinks to his knees in front of you.
âCâmere,â he breathes, pulling you into his lap, cupping your face like youâre something holy. He kisses you like a man starved, tongue tasting himself on you, moaning into your mouth like he wants to crawl inside you and stay there.
âNeed you, baby,â he mutters against your lips. âNeed you on me. Right now.â
You donât even hesitate, you straddle him right there on the motel carpet, your knees bracketing his hips, tugging that ruined green button-up off his shoulders. He winces when it drags over a healing cut, but he doesnât stop kissing you. He canât. He mouths at your lips, your jaw, your throat like heâll die if he doesnât taste every inch of you.
âYou sure?â you whisper, your breath hitching as you grind your hips against the bulge growing again beneath your soaked panties.
His hands slide up your bare thighs, settling on your waist. âSweetheart, I havenât felt right since I left this room. All I want⊠all I fucking want is you.â
You reach down, push your panties down low, and lift your hips just enough to line him up. Youâre already so wet, aching and open for him.
âGo slow, baby,â he breathes, eyes locked on your face. âWanna feel every fuckinâ second.â You sink down onto himâ inch by inch, and it knocks the wind out of both of you.
Deanâs head falls back with a guttural groan. âJesus Christ, you feel unreal.â
Your hands settle on his shoulders as you start to move, slow and gentle, rolling your hips in tight circles. He fills you so perfectly itâs obscene, thick and deep and hot inside you, dragging against every sweet spot like his body was made to live in yours.
His eyes flutter open, and he looks wrecked. Pink in the cheeks, chest heaving, lips parted like heâs been starved of air.
âYouâre killinâ me, baby,â he moans, hands roaming up your spine, down to your hips, holding you like youâre the only thing tethering him to this earth. âSo fuckinâ tight, so good, just⊠yours, Iâm yours, okay?â
You ride him slow, not chasing anything, just feeling. Just being. Your forehead brushes his. Heâs breathing like heâs about to cry. And maybe you are too.
âYou love me?â you whisper.
His arms wrap fully around you, dragging you closer, fucking deep into you even from under. âLove you so much,â he growls. âBeen in love with you since the second you looked at me like I wasnât broken.â
You bury your face in his neck as you keep grinding on him, your body trembling with how full you feel. âYouâre not broken,â you whisper.
He groans, desperate, in awe of you. âGonna cum inside you,â he pants, voice shaking. âFill you up, sweetheart. Gonna stay buried right here, keep you stuffed with me. You want that?â
You nod into his shoulder, kissing his throat. âWant it so bad.â
He holds you tight and thrusts up hard, once, twice, and you moan into his ear as he spills inside you, hot and thick and endless. His arms lock around you as he comes, hips twitching, burying his face in your shoulder like he canât handle it.
âFuckfuckfuck, I love youâ love you, baby, fuckââ
When itâs over, you stay just like that. Breathing hard, still joined, your chests heaving against each other. He doesnât let go. Instead, he leans back against the wall and pulls you with him, cradling you in his arms like something fragile.
You both stay on the motel floor for a while, his cum leaking out of you slowly, your thighs still shaking, his hand rubbing lazy circles on your lower back.
Deanâs arms wrap you tighter as you both slump against the grimy motel wall, the world outside fading into nothing. His chest rises and falls with slow, heavy breaths, your heartbeat pounding in your ears, steady against his.
He presses a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, his lips warm and rough like heâs memorizing every part of you. âYou okay, baby?â His voice is low, husky, filled with something that sounds like relief and awe all tangled up.
You nod, resting your head against his collarbone, listening to the steady thump of his heart under your ear. âYeah. Iâm good. With you.â
He lets out this soft grunt, like a laugh mixed with a sigh. âDamn right you are.â His fingers ghost along your spine, tracing lazy patterns that send shivers down your skin.
For a minute, you just sit there, tangled up in each other, the silence between you filled with quiet warmth. Then Dean pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, those green eyes, glossy and soft.
His breath hitches, his hand tightening around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. âYouâre my whole world, sweetheart. When youâre with me, nothing else matters.â
You press your lips to his, slow and tender, tasting him, still warm, still yours. The kiss lingers, full of promises and comfort, and when you pull away, Deanâs forehead rests against yours again.
âI wanna hold you all night,â he whispers. âTell you how much I love you till you fall asleep. Let you know youâre safe. Let you know youâre never alone.â
You sigh, heart swelling. âI want that too.â
Deanâs fingers trail down your arm, his touch feather-light but grounding. He moves so carefully, like youâre the most precious thing heâs ever held. His thumb strokes your cheek, wiping away a stray tear you didnât even realize had fallen.
âDonât ever forget, baby,â he says, voice breaking just a little. âIâm not going anywhere.â
You bury your face in his neck, breathing in the scent of leather, sweat, and something soft, âI donât forget.â
Minutes stretch, but time doesnât matter here. Just Deanâs hands in your hair, his whispered love, your steady breathing against his chest.
Eventually, he presses a kiss to your hairline, then pulls a threadbare blanket from the bedspread behind you. Wrapping you both up like a cocoon, he holds you close, humming low and soothing.
âSleep if you want. Iâm right here.â
You close your eyes, feeling his heartbeat slow, matching yours. Safe, warm, and loved.
ê€ summary: stoner! dean is all sleepy kisses and joints rolled just for you. heâs clingy in the best way, and swears youâre his soulmate every time the stars come out.
⯠warnings: mdni!! explicit content, 420 we ball, kissing, cuddling, weed naps, clingy stoner bf, movie nights & vibes, lap sitting, food cravings, soft!dean, praise, sleepy makeouts, forehead kisses, domestic fluff, himbo behavior, space talk & soulmate shit, high and in love.
⯠notes: this has been living in my head rent free for weeks. also if he ever passed me a blunt iâd simply fall in love on sight. anyway enjoy my delulu. reblogs = forehead kiss from him <3
HE LOVES GETTING YOU HIGH.. he rolls for you, lights it, puts it to your lips, and watches you with those hazy green eyes like youâre his favorite movie.
HIS MUNCHIES ARE CHAOTIC.. this man will literally eat a grilled cheese with pie inside it. he also thinks cool ranch doritos and peanut butter are âa bomb combo.â youâre stuck enabling him.
HE GETS REAL CUDDLY.. dean + weed = clingy lil baby. heâs got his arms wrapped around you, face buried in your neck, mumbling stuff like âyou smell like heaven, yâknow that?â in a raspy voice thatâs half-asleep.
HAS A RANDOM URGE TO TEACH YOU POOL.. halfway through heâs not even holding the cue stick right anymore. âokay, okay, now bend over. no not like that- wait, yes, exactly like that.â then he forgets what the lesson was.
STONER MOVIE NIGHTS ARE SACRED.. you two binge pineapple express, half baked, and dazed and confused on rotation. he always quotes matthew mcconaugheyâs âalright, alright, alrightâ and then says you make him feel that way. ugh.
HE MAKES HIS OWN EDIBLES AND THEYâRE.. WEIRDY GOOD?.. dean will make weed brownies but then heâs like âwhat if we did a thc bacon mac n cheese?â and youâre like âpls noâ and next thing you know youâre drooling on his chest 20 minutes later after one bite.
DEAN GETS THE GIGGLES SO BAD.. belly laughing over nothing. youâll say âpass the lighterâ and heâs crying like âyo you sounded british for a sec.â he thinks you are the funniest person alive when heâs high.
NOT THAT MUCH FOR BIG TALK WHEN HEâS HIGH, BUT HEâLL ALWAYS FIND WAYS TO SHOW LOVE.. like making you your favorite drink, lighting candles, or just sitting beside you in silence, holding your hand.
SURPRISINGLY GOOD AT READING YOUR MOODS WHILE HEâS HIGH.. if youâre quiet and anxious, heâs your silent rock, just holding you close. if youâre a little overwhelmed, heâll softly remind you to breathe and maybe put on some chill tunes.
âWEED NAPSâ TOGETHER ARE A FULL ON RITUAL.. heâll get you both stupid high, pull you into his chest, kiss your forehead, and knock out mid-sentence. you wake up and heâs snoring softly with a dumb lil smile and his hand still on your thigh.
TRIES TO TEACH YOU HOW TO ROLL A JOINT, BUT ENDS UP GIGGLING LIKE A CHILD.. heâs all, âokay, babe, lemme show you, this is high level skill,â and then drops the weed all over the table and starts giggling like âshit⊠ignore that, i got it.â
TALKS TO HIS JOINTS LIKE THEYâRE FRIENDS.. âalright little guy, letâs do this.â lights up âyouâre burninâ nice, buddy. real proud of you.â ur just staring like ??? and heâs chillinâ like itâs normal.
SMOKES OUT OF STUPID STUFF.. âyou think I can turn this apple into a bowl?â he does it. successfully. and grins like he just won the super bowl. âmacgyver ainât got SHIT on me, baby.â
GETS EMOTIONAL OVER LITTLE THINGS.. seeing you laugh or watching you tuck your hair behind your ear, heâs totally smitten and might get a little teary eyed, whispering âiâm the luckiest man alive.â
HIS STONED KISSES? LOTS OF EMâ.. he leans in real lazy, eyes half lidded, pupils blown, and just melts into your mouth like heâs never been fed before. you pull back for air and he chases your lips like, ânuh-uh. more.â
GETS HIGH BEFORE DOING CHORES AND TURNS IT INTO A CONCERT.. vacuuming in just a flannel (unbuttoned), doing the dishes while singing into a spatula, shaking his hips with a joint hanginâ from his lips. youâre just sitting there, blushing and dying.
GETS WAY INTO ASMR WHEN STONED.. whispers into your ear like a pro, âbabe, you hear that? thatâs the sound of love.â then he makes weird mouth noises and youâre dying. (again).
SAID âI COULD TOTALLY BE A STRIPPERâ ONCE.. put on âponyâ by ginuwine, tried to do a sexy dance, tripped over a sock, and fell into the laundry basket. you almost passed out laughing. heâs still proud of himself. âtell me i wasnât kinda hot tho.â
STILL MANAGES TO BE THE MOST ATTRACTIVE HUMAN ALIVE.. even with red eyes, messy hair, and a dorito stuck to his hoodie, heâs somehow radiating sex appeal. he winks at you and youâre just like, ugh, fine, letâs make out.
TRIES TO INITIATE MAKEOUTS AND ENDS UP MAULING YOU.. started with a forehead kiss. then a peck. then a soft little âhey prettyâŠâ and BOOM now youâre straddling him, shirtless, and heâs breathless whispering âgod, iâm so high and youâre so hot.â
âCAN WE HAVE SEX IN THE BUNKER LIBRARY?â.. deadass high and suddenly asking the most degenerate stuff. âi just think itâd be hot, like, you bent over the table, surrounded by old books. kinda academic. slutty much?â
LOVES PULLING YOUR UNDERWEAR TO THE SIDE, NOT OFF.. something about the laziness of it drives him wild. heâs like, âi ainât wasting time, sweetheart. i want it now.â
LIKES TO MAKE YOU RIDE HIM WHILE HIGH.. sprawled out on the couch, joint still smoldering in the ashtray, hands on your hips like heâs watching a movie. âmm, just like that, baby. show me how pretty you are.â
LAZY, SENSUAL STROKES TOO!!.. heâs not pounding you into oblivion. heâs rolling his hips, slow, deep, mumbling âyou feel too good⊠canât stopâŠâ itâs sloppy. sweaty. sooo vocal. just full-blown âfuuuuck, baby- uhhh, yeahâŠâ
GOES DOWN ON YOU LIKE ITâS A RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE.. high dean is locked in. hair pushed back, gripping your thighs like youâll float away. will not stop until youâre shaking. and when youâre done? âyou taste like heaven. i need another hit.â
PUTS HIS FINGERS IN YOUR MOUTH WHILE HEâS FUCKING YOU.. heâs like, âsuck, baby. just like that. god, i love those lips.â and then keeps thrusting harder every time your tongue swirls around.
HIGH DEAN GETS DISTRACTED BY HIS OWN DIRTY TALK.. mid sentence, he pauses, laughs, and goes, âwait⊠did i just say that out loud? fuck, Iâm high as hell.â
LOVES IT WHEN YOU TAKE CONTROL.. dean loves it when you tug his hair or bite his lip, he gets that glint in his eye like âyeah, show me what you got, baby.â but then he always wins with a growl and a kiss that steals your breath.
AFTERWARDS, YOU CUDDLE AND HEâS STILL KINDA HORNY.. hands back on your ass, mumbling half asleep, âround three in like.. fifteen minutes. just lemme nap inside you.â
ê€ summary: dean might slay monsters, but his heart belongs to his little one. basically just dean being the most loving, overprotective dad ever. teaching his kid everything he knows and pretending heâs totally not tearing up about it.ââââââââââââââââ
⯠warnings: pure fluff, cuteness overload, you might need tissues, too much dad! dean for your heart to handle, this post is not responsible for any unintentional squealing or melting, i MIGHT make this a series, uncontrollable awws guaranteed.
⯠notes: so, in case you didnât know, iâm officially in my âdad! dean makes me weakâ era, and iâm not sorry about it. if youâre reading this and youâre like, âwhy does my heart hurt in the best way right now?â then welcome to the club. we all fam. â(á”áá”)â
DEAN WANTS TO GIVE THEM THE CHILDHOOD HE NEVER HAD.. so he overcompensates. birthday parties. christmas mornings that look like a hallmark movie. camping trips. home videos. he keeps everything. âi just want them to know theyâre loved. always.â
HE HATES MISSING MILESTONES.. if heâs on a hunt and misses a first word or first step? heâll MAKE cas rewind time or beg sam for a cursed object to see it. heâd call you in tears like âbabe, whatâd they say? was it âdadaâ? please tell me it was âdada.ââ
HE BUILDS THEM A BUNKER-LEVEL PILLOW FORT.. rainy day? you better believe that living room becomes a war zone of blankets, snacks, and flashlight tag. âno demons in this fort, soldier. only snuggles.â
HE TEACHES THEM HOW TO RESPECT PEOPLE.. manners. loyalty. standing up for others. âyou protect the people you love. always. no matter what.â dean raises the kind of kids that other parents admire!!
BUT HE SUCKS AT DISCIPLE WHEN THEY CRY.. one look at those watery eyes and heâs DONE. âaw câmon, donât do that to me, sweetheart⊠i wasnât even that mad.â ends up cuddling them on the couch whispering âdaddyâs not mad, just worried.â
ALWAYS TUCKS A NOTE IN THEIR LUNCHBOX.. i know it may a be a bit unbelievable for him, but stay with me now, little post-its with stuff like âbe brave today, champ!â or âlove you more than pie. almost.â you find the notes years later, kept in a shoebox.
DEAN HAS A WEIRD OBSESSION WITH CAR SEATS NOW.. he installed that thing like it was a bomb. double-checks it every single time. âmy kidâs not going anywhere unless itâs safely strapped into baby.â
HAS ZERO CHILL WHEN THEYâRE SICK.. one cough and heâs pacing like a war general. blankets, soup, forehead kisses. âyou okay, bug? you want daddy to beat up the virus?â
HE KEEPS BABY PICTURES OF THE KIDS IN HIS WALLET.. and he shows them to literally anyone he knows, âthatâs my little kiddo in their first flannel. got that same âhandsomeâ face.â with a stupid grin on his face.
HE CRIES AT DANCE RECITALS AND LITTLE LEAGUE GAMES.. tries to hide it behind his sunglasses, but you can see the sniffles. âthatâs my kid out there. did you see that spin??â oh my gosh, heâs such a softie.
HIS RINGTONE IS THEIR LAUGH.. he recorded it one afternoon when they were giggling at his fart jokes. itâs been his ringtone ever since and he refuses to change it. âbest sound in the damn world.â
CARRIES THEIR ART IN EVERYWHERE.. you open the impalaâs glove box and thereâs a crayon drawing of dean with a giant smile labeled âmy hero.â he pretends to be chill about it but heâs totally cried over it in the garage.
HE TEACHES THEM TO SAY âNOâ EARLY.. âi donât care how small you are. if someone makes you uncomfortable? you say ânoâ loud. clear. mean it. and if they donât back off, tell daddy. iâll handle it.â
BABY-PROOFING THE BUNKER TURNS INTO A WHOLE MISSION.. sam walks in and deanâs like âiâve sealed every electrical outlet, covered all corners, and enchanted the nursery against monsters. what have you done today, uncle sam?â
HE STARTS CARRYING DIAPERS AND WIPES IN HIS WEAPONS DUFFEL.. multitasking king!! thereâs holy water, salt rounds, and a pastel blue binky. he pulls it out like âdonât judge me, iâm prepared.â
TEACHES THEM HOW TO SHOOT WITH NERF GUNS FIRST.. you come home and find the house COVERED in foam bullets. heâs in full camo, kids are giggling like maniacs, and all you can think about is whoâs gonna clean this mess up??
WHEN THEY GET HURT, HE BLAMES HIMSELF.. they fall off a bike? scrape a knee? dean acts like the sky is falling. âi shouldâve been there. i shouldâve caught âem.â and you literally have to literally hold his face and be like âtheyâre okay, babe. youâre a great dad.â
HE STARTS READING PARENTING BOOKS IN SECRET.. you catch him late at night with what to expect the first year under a flashlight like itâs a case file. âdonât look at me like that, woman. i just wanna be prepared. babies donât come with manuals, this is the closest thing.â
HE LETS THEM PAINT HIS NAILS AND DOESNâT WASH IT OFF FOR DAYS.. heâs out on a hunt with chipped sparkly polish and when samâs like âwhat the hellâs on your hands?â deanâs all, âmy daughterâs masterpiece. you got a problem with that?â
DEANâS SECRETLY TERRIFIED HEâS GONNA MESS THEM UP.. sometimes he stares at them sleeping and whispers, âyou deserve better than i ever had, kid. iâll never let anything happen to you.â and then he crawls into bed and pulls you close because youâre the only thing that calms that storm.
HE GETS JEALOUS WHEN THEY CLING TO YOU TOO MUCH.. playfully, but still. âcâmon, they were on your hip all day. dad needs cuddles too!â he pouts until the kid crawls into his lap and heâs smug like âthatâs right, dadâs the favorite now.â
ALWAYS MAKES TIME FOR ONE-ON-ONE DATES.. heâll take each kid out individually for a milkshake or a trip to the arcade and call it âdad-and-me time.â he says itâs for them, but itâs really for him, too.
WRITES THEM LETTERS âJUST IN CASEâ.. stored in the bunker. one for every birthday. every milestone. âif something ever happens to me⊠i want them to know i was there. i loved âem every second.â
WHEN YOUâRE ALL SNUGGLED UP IN BED, HE HOLDS THE BABY AND WHISPERS TO YOU.. âwe really did it, huh? we made this little one. and Iâm not goinâ anywhere, sweetheart. ever.â
ê€ summary: dean takes you on a âproper dateâ which apparently involves fire, sugar, and him trying to one-up you in marshmallow roasting.
⯠warnings: fluff, banter, marshmallow chaos, sticky kisses, fire safety violations, dean being competitive over sâmores, reader nearly burning the forest down (affectionate), pre-established relationship, idiots in love.
⯠notes: this is just soft chaos and sweet nothings by the fire. deanâs a menace. you love him anyway. thank you for reading, I hope this made you smile!
youâre halfway convinced this is just an excuse for dean to play with fire and eat chocolate, but youâre not mad about it.
the Impalaâs parked near this little clearing he found off a back road, far enough from town that itâs quiet except for the crickets and the occasional owl that hoots like itâs judging you. heâs got a fire going like itâs second nature, and youâre sitting on a worn blanket, legs stretched out in front of you, hoodie zipped halfway up, and deanâs flannel draped over your shoulders because âyou always steal it anyway, might as well make it official.â
heâs crouched in front of the fire now, focused as if heâs defusing a bomb, turning a marshmallow slowly over the flames. his tongue is poking out a little in concentration and itâs so unnecessarily cute, youâre kind of obsessed.
âyouâre taking this very seriously,â you note, eyebrows raised.
dean doesnât even look at you. âsweetheart, if weâre doinâ this, weâre doinâ it right. no charred marshmallow here. i have standards.â
you lean back on your hands, grinning. âokay, gordon ramsay. impress me.â
âoh, i will.â
a minute later, heâs stacking the marshmallow between graham crackers with a square of chocolate thatâs already melting in the fireâs heat. he finishes and holds it out to you like itâs a priceless gift. âfor you, mâlady.â
you snort, âi feel so honored.â as you take a dramatic bite, your eyes widen. âoh my gosh. this is amazing.â
dean puffs his chest looking exactly like a smug golden retriever. âtold ya. ten outta ten.â
âokay, my turn,â you say, already grabbing your stick. âletâs see if I can live up to your high-class marshmallow standards.â
you try to mimic what he did, but yours catches on fire almost immediately, burning. a tiny marshmallow torch, you might say.
âwhoaâ oh my godââ you start flailing the stick around hoping you can put it out by waving. deanâs already laughing, grabbing the stick from your hand and blowing on it dramatically until the flames die.
âyou were supposed to toast it, not summon satan,â he teases, dropping the blackened marshmallow into the grass.
âi panicked!â you cry, laughing so hard your stomach hurts. âit escalated fast!â
deanâs grinning at you, full dimples, all bright eyes. he brushes his fingers through your hair quickly, like he just canât help touching you. âyouâre dangerous with a sugar stick, babe.â
you stick your tongue out at him. âyou still love me.â
he smirks. âthatâs true. but Iâm making your sâmores from now on. for safety reasons.â
you roll your eyes, but let him build another one for you anyway. this time, you feed it to him, smearing chocolate on his lip on purpose just so you can lean in and kiss it off, giggling against his mouth.
he licks his lips afterwards, and then like heâs in heaven, flops back onto the blanket. âyouâre killinâ me, woman.â
you crawl over and lay beside him, resting your head on his chest while he steals another marshmallow straight from the bag and pops it into his mouth. he offers you one too. not roasted, just plain and pillowy, and you take it with a happy little hum.
the stars are crazy bright, the fireâs still crackling, and deanâs arm curls around you like he was made to fit there.
and sure, your fingers are sticky, your hoodie smells like smoke, you totally burned that marshmallow and thereâs chocolate on your jeans, but itâs still the best night ever.
ê€ summary: general shy dating hc again!! spoiler; sam is the softest, most patient boyfriend ever. he understands your awkwardness, your shyness, your nervousness, all of it, and he loves you for it.
⯠warnings: lots of cuteness, emotional moments/support, comfort!! soft boy affection overload, sam being the gentlest giant to ever giant, safe relationship energy that might make you cry, pre-established relationship.
⯠notes: on the request of the sweet @everythingisaspectrum!! sorry this took so long (â„ïčâ„) for anyone worried on the taglist who signed on just for dean, just hit me up and ill make sure to not tag you on any other characters. plus the taglist got an update!!
HE DOES GROCERY SHOPPING IF YOUâRE TOO STRESSED.. but not in a âugh, fine Iâll goâ way. no, this man is walking out the door with a list you scribbled and texting you stuff like âdo you want the strawberry yogurt or the peach? i forgot which oneâs your favorite :(â
HAND-HOLDING IS HIS FAVORITE THING EVER.. he knows youâre shy about PDA, so he never forces it, but when you do reach for his hand, oh, he cherishes it. heâll squeeze your fingers gently, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, completely focused on you.
LOVES HEARING YOU TALK ABOUT THE THINGS YOU LOVE.. even if youâre shy, when you finally start opening up about something youâre passionate about, sam is so happy. heâll listen intently, nodding along, asking questions, just completely mesmerized by how cute you look when you get excited.
SAM READS TO YOU.. out loud. youâre laying in bed, curled up under a blanket, and heâs got a book in one hand, your hand in the other. he has the most soothing voice ever and every few lines heâll glance over at you with the softest smile like, âstill with me, sweetheart?â
LOVES IT WHEN YOU GET SLEEPY AND CLINGY.. if you ever get too tired to keep up your usual shyness and just snuggle into him, sam is in heaven. heâll wrap you up in his arms, stroking your hair, whispering, âyou can fall asleep, sweetheart. iâm not going anywhere.â
HE KEEPS A LITTLE MENTAL LIST OF THINGS THAT MAKE YOU ANXIOUS.. crowds, loud places, random new people. he notices and makes plans around it. if youâre ever somewhere you donât like, heâll quietly lean over and whisper, âwant to head out, babe?â and if you nod? heâs already guiding you out like a prince in plaid.
HE LEGIT BRAGS ABOUT YOU IN PRIVATE.. if heâs talking to dean or someone he trusts, he gets this dreamy little smile and is like, âsheâs shy, yeah⊠but sheâs got the biggest heart. smartest girl iâve ever met.â heâs so down BAD.
WHEN YOUâRE OVERWHELMED, HE GIVES YOU HIS HOODIE.. and i mean, immediately. youâre not even asking, he just sees you getting overwhelmed and wordlessly tugs it off, wraps it around you, and kisses your hair. now you smell like him and feel safe.
SAM IS OBSESSED WITH YOUR VOICE WHEN YOU TALK JUST TO HIM.. you might be quiet around others, but when itâs just the two of you? when youâre cuddling and whispering things only he gets to hear? he treasures it. heâll literally say, âi love your voice. itâs so peaceful.â
HE NOTICES EVERY TINY CHANGE IN YOUR MOOD.. you donât even have to say anything; he can just tell. heâll come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, rest his chin on your shoulder and softly ask, âwhatâs going on in that pretty little head of yours?â
HE HAS A BABY VOICE, JUST FOR YOU.. not like silly baby talk, but that extra affectionate tone that only comes out when heâs holding you close or waking you up in the morning. âcâmon, sweetheart⊠time to get up. i made your tea.â like PLEASE heâs your emotional support giant.
HEâS SO GENTLE WHEN YOUâRE UPSET.. if somethingâs bothering you, heâll never push you to talk, but heâll always make sure you know heâs there. heâll rub slow circles on your back, murmur soothing words, and just be there until youâre ready to open up.
SAM LOVES WHEN YOU PLAY WITH HIS HAIR.. youâre shy about touching him, but the first time you nervously threaded your fingers through his hair, sam melted. he closed his eyes, leaned into your touch, and let out the softest sigh. now he begs for it. âcâmere, baby. Just for a minute.â
YOU HAVE A SAFE WORD FOR SOCIAL EXITS.. sam came up with it. like if youâre somewhere thatâs draining you, all you have to do is say the word (maybe something dumb and cute like âmoose tracksâ) and heâll immediately get you out, no questions.
HE WRITES YOU NOTES.. little sticky notes with stuff like âdrink water today, babe <3â or âi miss you, even if youâre just in the next roomâ and sticks them where youâll find them. your journal, your laptop, the fridge, your pillow, everywhere.
HE FINDS YOUR AWKWARDNESS SO HOT.. when you try to be flirty but your voice shakes, or you avoid eye contact after saying something bold? sam is grinning so hard. heâll bite his lip and softly say, âthat was really cute. keep going.â and youâre immediately done for.
IF YOU CRY, HEâS IN FULL ON SOFT MODE.. no panic, no âdonât cryâ BS. he just holds you close, rocks you gently, and says stuff like, âlet it out, sweetheart. iâm right here. iâm not going anywhere.â literal human comfort blanket.
HE NEEDS A KISS BEFORE BED.. even if itâs just a shy little peck. and if youâre being all bashful and hiding your face under the covers, heâll laugh softly and coax you out with kisses to your hands. âdonât hide that pretty face, baby.â
HE BUYS YOU BOOKS THAT REMIND HIM OF YOU.. the titles are always something cheesy like âquiet is beautifulâ or just some cheesy romance novel with a blushing heroine. he always scribbles a note inside like âsaw this and thought of you. youâre my favorite.â
HE LIVES FOR THE LATE NIGHT CONVOS.. youâre in bed, half-asleep, and you whisper something like âdo you think the stars look different in heaven?â and this man is suddenly wide awake and in full philosophical mode, holding you and telling you what he thinks while stroking your arm.
HE TOTALLY PICKS UP ON YOUR SOCIAL ANXIETY AND SUBTLY HELPS YOU OUT.. if youâre in a conversation and get flustered, sam will gently step in without making it obvious. heâll steer the conversation smoothly so you donât feel pressured to talk too much, all while giving you reassuring little touches, like a hand on your back.
SAM OFFERS YOU HIS JACKET WITHOUT YOU ASKING.. cold? you get the jacket. nervous? you get the jacket. just existing in the world? guess what, youâre getting the damn jacket. itâs like a hug from him, and you know he gets a little weak seeing you wrapped up in it.
HE NEVER LETS YOU DOUBT HOW MUCH HE WANTS YOU.. youâre quiet and might have moments of thinking youâre too awkward or not enough. sam sees it immediately and pulls you into the warmest hug, whispering, âyouâre everything iâve ever wanted, sweetheart. donât ever think youâre not.â
ADORES THE WAY YOU TUCK YOURSELF INTO HIS SIDE.. like a little shy koala. if you ever burrow into him, face in his chest, holding onto his flannel? heâs DONE. heâll just wrap you up and murmur, âgod, i love you so much.â
ê€ summary: general dating headcanons for my shy, sensitive girls! conclusion? youâre his awkward little sweetheart; he sees you, he gets you, and heâll spend every damn day proving how much he loves you.
⯠warnings: fluffy, teasing, very mildly suggestive content, protective! dean, emotional moments, pre-established relationship, sweeter than sugar, major cuteness overload.
⯠notes: had sm fun writing this! hope you enjoy these soft moments as much as I enjoyed writing them! let me know what you think, and feel free to request more if you want to see more! (Ë¶Ë á” Ë˶)
DEAN TALKS FOR YOU WHEN YOUâRE TOO SHY.. ordering food? asking for directions? you just quietly nudge him, and he immediately understands. but if he sees you trying to be brave, he wonât jump in. just stands next to you, hand resting on your back, whispering, âyou got this, baby.â
DEAN LOVES TEASING YOU.. like, heâs constantly making little comments just to see you get all flustered. heâll lean in real close and murmur, âwhatchaâ blushinâ for, sweetheart?â with that damn smirk. and when you hide your face? oh, heâs chuckling and pulling your hands away.
YOU STRUGGLE WITH EYE CONTACT, AND HE ALWAYS FINDS IT ADORABLE.. sometimes heâll tilt your chin up with two fingers and say, âcâmon, lemme see those pretty eyes,â all gentle but firm. other times, heâll playfully move his head into your line of sight when you try to look away.
HEâS RIDICULOUSLY PROTECTIVE.. because in his eyes, youâre just this soft little thing and the world is way too rough for you. if anyone so much as looks at you funny, deanâs throwing an arm around you and giving them the scariest glare. âyou got a problem?â
DEAN SECRETLY LOVES THAT YOU GET NERVOUS AROUND HIM.. heâll catch you fumbling with your words and just grin, all cocky. âdamn, sweetheart, do i make you that nervous?â but the moment you get overwhelmed, he softens up and reassures you, âhey, take your time, baby. i ainât goinâ anywhere.â
EATS UP YOUR AWKWARD ATTEMPTS AT FLIRTING.. if you ever try to compliment him, youâll probably stammer through it, and dean just grins. âaw, sweetheart, that was adorable. you tryinâ to flirt with me?â if you get flustered and deny it, he just chuckles and tugs you close. âitâs workinâ, baby. big time.â
HEâS OBSESSED WITH YOUR LITTLE MANNERISMS.. like the way you fidget with your sleeves, or how you get shy when you compliment him. if you stammer out a âyou look really nice today,â heâll lean in all smug and go, âyeah? that so?â just to watch you get all flustered.
DEAN IS YOUR ULTIMATE COMFORT PERSON.. if you ever get anxious, heâll pull you into a bear hug, rubbing slow circles on your back while murmuring, âdeep breaths, sweetheart. i gotcha.â if youâre too overwhelmed to talk, heâs totally okay with just holding you in silence.
HE ABSOLUTELY MELTS WHEN YOU INITIATE AFFECTION.. since youâre shy, you donât do it often, but when you finally work up the courage to kiss his cheek or reach for his hand? heâs grinning like an idiot, heart skipping a beat. âdamn, sweetheart, you tryinâ to kill me?â
DEANâS A PHYSICAL TOUCH MENACE, SO YOU JUST HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT.. heâll sling an arm around your shoulders, pull you onto his lap outta nowhere, or nuzzle his face into your neck because he can. if you squeak or squirm, thatâs just a bonus for him.
HEâS PATIENT WITH YOUR AWKWARDNESS.. if youâre struggling to put feelings into words, he wonât rush you. if you get too nervous in social situations, heâll subtly shield you from attention. he gets that you need time, and heâs more than willing to give it to you.
JEALOUS, BUT NOT IN AN AGGRESSIVE WAY.. if some guy gets too close, dean just slides in between you two and goes, âhey, buddy, sheâs with me.â but if youâre just naturally awkward around other people you donât know that much, heâll tease you later, âdamn, sweetheart, youâre nervous around everyone but me, huh? guess I really am special.â
CONSTANTLY REASSURING YOU THAT YOUâRE PERFECT JUST THE WAY YOU ARE.. whenever you second-guess yourself, whether itâs about your awkwardness, how you look, or anything else, heâs there, reminding you how amazing you are. âyouâre perfect, sweetheart. donât ever think otherwise. i love you exactly how you are.â
SOFT FOR YOU IN WAYS NO ONE ELSE GETS TO SEE.. to everyone else, heâs all bravado and sarcasm. but for you? heâs tucking you in, brushing your hair behind your ear, whispering, âyou okay, baby?â when he sees you retreat into yourself. heâs your safe space, and he loves being that for you.
GOD HELP YOU WHEN HE FLIRTS.. he thrives on making you blush. heâll say something suggestive just to watch your brain short-circuit, then kiss your forehead and go, ârelax, sweetheart, just messinâ with ya.â (heâs not. he loves seeing you flustered.)
HE LEARNS HOW TO READ YOU LIKE A BOOK.. you donât always say when youâre uncomfortable, but he knows. the second he sees you shifting awkwardly, playing with your sleeves, or avoiding eye contact? heâs immediately stepping in, guiding you out of the situation, pulling you close, or giving you a reassuring squeeze. âsâjust us, sweetheart. youâre okay.â
HE ADORES HOW POLITE YOU ARE.. like, you always say âthank youâ when he does literally anything. opens a door, passes you something, even when he kills a monster like, âthank you for saving me, de..â and he just snickers, ruffling your hair, âsweetheart, itâs kinda my job, yâknow?â but he secretly melts every time.
HE GIVES YOU SMALL BUT SWEET SURPRISES.. dean isnât big on grand gestures, but heâll randomly pick up flowers for you after a hunt or get you something cute that reminded him of you. âjust thought youâd like it, sweetheart.â
HAND-HOLDING IS KEY.. at first, youâre too shy to reach for his hand, so he starts sneaking little touches, his pinky brushing against yours, his fingers ghosting over the back of your hand. and when you finally take his hand one day? oh, this man smirks and squeezes tight. âtook ya long enough, sweetheart.â
CUDDLES ARE MANDATORY.. if youâre shy about initiating them, thatâs fine; because dean has zero hesitation. if youâre sitting next to him? heâs pulling you into his lap. if youâre lying down? heâs throwing an arm around you. and if you get all stiff and awkward, he just chuckles, ârelax, sweetheart. I ainât lettinâ go.â
ABSOLUTELY LOSES IT WHEN YOU GET JEALOUS.. you wouldnât dare say anything outright, but dean notices. the way you suddenly go quiet, the little pout on your lips. oh, heâs loving every second. heâll lean down and whisper, âaww, sweetheart, you jealous?â with the biggest grin. if when you deny it, he just laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. âsâokay, baby, you got nothinâ to worry about. iâm all yours.â
LOVES WHEN YOU CLING TO HIM.. when you grab onto his jacket or press up against his side in public, heâs thrilled. this man walks around like your personal bodyguard, keeping a hand on your waist, making sure everyone sees that youâre his.
WHEN YOUâRE SHY ABOUT BEING PHYSICAL, HEâS PATIENT.. at first, youâre not totally comfortable with PDA, so he makes sure to read the room. but once you start leaning into him, dean gets SO excited. heâll kiss your forehead and be like, âiâm the luckiest guy alive.â
HE MAKES YOU FEEL SAFE LIKE NO ONE ELSE EVER HAS.. the world is loud and overwhelming sometimes, but with dean? Itâs different. you know that as long as heâs around, youâre okay. and he makes sure you never forget that. âainât nobody touchinâ you while iâm here, sweetheart.â
ê€ summary: my take on the infamous NSFW alphabet where each letter represents a different aspect of deanâs passionate, playful, and sometimes possessive side!
⯠warnings: mdni!! explicit content, mature themes, adult language, graphic sexual content, explicit descriptions of intimacy, kinky stuff, possessiveness, lowkey fluffy, sub! dean at times, but mostly dom! dean.
⯠notes: hereâs the template i used!! (slightly tweaked it) tbh i love writing headcanons sm im thinking of posting them more often. let me know if you liked this format!! at SOME points i lost the plot and wrote a whole ass fic.. but hey. this is my first time.
A = AFTERCARE..
after a night of passion, deanâs first instinct is always to make sure youâre okay. heâs extremely gentle, tender, almost like heâs still in awe of you. heâll pull you close, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, running his fingers through your hair as he mutters soft words of reassurance. even in the aftermath of something intense, he needs you to know youâre safe, that youâre everything to him. heâs not rly about that âwham-bamâ stuff. heâll get you a glass of water, make sure youâre comfortable, and maybe even wrap you in a blanket while he quietly watches over you, his thumb tracing circles on your skin as you both catch your breath.
heâs the type to make it feel like youâre the only thing that matters in the world, and even though heâs usually tough and rugged, with you, heâs all heart. itâs about comfort, care, and making sure you feel cherished. itâs his way of showing that the connection doesnât end after the heat of the moment; it only deepens.
B = BODY PART..
deanâs hands, theyâre his favorite body part, and not just because theyâre strong or capable. no, itâs the way they feel when theyâre touching you, when theyâre pulling you closer, slipping under the fabric of your clothes, and tracing the softest parts of your skin. when itâs just the two of you, alone in that quiet space, his hands will roam over your body with purpose. heâs all about the slow burn, his fingertips brushing across your neck, making your breath hitch as he dips lower to the curve of your waist. heâll take his time, working you up, feeling every inch of you as if heâs memorizing you, ensuring youâre completely in his control.
as for his favorite part of you? dean canât stop thinking about your thighs. when youâre alone, heâll have you straddling him, your legs wrapped around his waist as he slowly moves against you, feeling the heat building between you two. your thighs are soft, but firm, the perfect balance of strength and vulnerability, and when you press them together, itâs like a promise of something hotter. his hands will travel down, gripping your thighs, pulling you closer until he can feel every inch of you moving against him. heâs obsessed with the way your body reacts to him; your thighs pressing tightly against his sides as you rock against him, your breath shaky, your skin heated under his touch. heâs rough when he wants to be, but in those moments, when itâs just the two of you, heâll make sure everything is slow, deliberate. each kiss, each touch, each movement a way of savoring you.
C = CUM..
his favorite spot to cum is definitely inside of you.. not just for the convenience of making less of a mess. it just feels way more personal. when dean finally hits that point, itâs like everything just snaps. his hands are gripping your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you down on him. heâs moving deep, hard, every thrust bringing him closer to the edge. he can feel himself losing control as his body trembles, and when he finally releases, itâs rough and intense. you can feel it, that pulse deep inside you, as heâs coming undone, his grip tightening, his body jerking with each wave.
heâs not shy about it either.. heâll tell you how good it feels, how he canât stop because youâre just too good to let go of. and when heâs done, thereâs no shame, heâs all over you, holding you close, whispering how amazing you are, not wanting to let you go even for a second. deanâs the type to make sure youâre completely satisfied, whether thatâs with kisses, gentle touches, or reminding you how much you mean to him, even after that intense release.
heâll want to stay inside you for just a little longer, feeling that connection, letting everything settle between the two of you. itâs about the way heâs completely consumed by you that gets him in the moment, how every touch and every moan is for you, how your body makes him lose control in the best way.
deanâs all about giving too. when heâs going down on you, lips brushing along your neck, his hands guiding you as he kisses down your body, he knows exactly what heâs doing. his eyes are on you the whole time. he loves watching the way your body reacts to his touch, how your breath hitches as he moves lower.
when he finally gets to your thighs, heâll take his time, teasing with his tongue, pressing soft kisses against your skin, before finally kissing that sensitive spot. heâll take his time with you, making you feel like youâre the most important thing in the world. his tongue moves with purpose, driving you crazy, circling and flicking just the right way, making sure youâre feeling every bit of pleasure.
âfuck, you taste so good,â heâll growl, barely able to hold back as he keeps moving, pushing you closer to the edge. he wonât stop until youâre breathless, trembling underneath him. heâll make sure you hit that release, his lips and tongue working together, guiding you to that explosive moment. and when your body spasms from that climax, heâs right there, feeling it with you, never stopping, never pulling away.
when deanâs on the receiving end, you better believe heâs not quiet about it. when you start to make your way down his body, his breath catches in his chest, a low groan escaping him. his eyes are on you, heat in his gaze, as his hands rest in your hair, but heâs letting you take your time. he loves the anticipation, the slow build-up as you tease him, running your hands along his thighs, giving him just enough to drive him wild.
âcâmon, baby, donât make me wait,â heâll tell you, voice hoarse, his patience wearing thin as you hover just above him. but he loves the feeling of you taking control, how your mouth makes him lose himself in you. when you finally take him into your mouth, heâs lost. his head falls back, a moan slipping from his lips as he tries to hold it together. you know how to move, how to make him feel like heâs in heaven, your tongue working its magic as you make him see stars.
deanâs not the kind to just lay back, best believe. his hips start to move with the rhythm, not in a desperate way, but in sync with your movements. his hands will grip your hair, gently guiding you, wanting to feel all of it. when you take him deep, he canât help but let out a low curse under his breath, his body shuddering with pleasure. âfuck, that feels so good,â heâll mutter, completely lost in the sensation of you giving him everything. ughhsgghs.
D = DIRTY SECRET..
deanâs dirty secret? Itâs not something he just tells you about. itâs something he keeps tucked away, buried deep beneath the tough guy act. but you start to realize it when youâre alone, when itâs just the two of you in the quiet of a motel room, the world outside forgotten.
deanâs secret is that he loves when you take control, when you push him to his limits and make him beg for it. most people would never guess it. hell, dean barely acknowledges it himself, but you see the way he looks at you sometimes, like heâs waiting for you to take the reins. itâs the way his voice goes low and rough when he whispers your name, the way his body stiffens in anticipation when you shift on top of him, taking charge. itâs the way he fights it, but you know that heâs completely fucking powerless when you take control.
heâs defo not used to it. deanâs the one whoâs always in charge, the one with the power in every situation. but with you? heâs different. he loves being dominated by you. he loves it when you pin him down, when you whisper dirty things in his ear that make his heart race. he loves when you donât let him speak, when you kiss him so hard he can barely breathe, all while you keep him trapped beneath you.
but the thing is, he doesnât want to admit it, not to you, and especially not to anyone else. itâs his dirty little secret, the thing thatâs so out of character for him. heâs too proud to openly admit that sometimes he craves to be the one whoâs helpless to your touch. but deep down, he knows youâve got him wrapped around your finger, and it drives him wild that he canât stop wanting it.
E = EXPERIENCE..
deanâs very experienced. this manâs been around the block a few times, we know that. heâs been in all kinds of situations, with all types of people, and letâs just say, he knows exactly what heâs doing. but his experience isnât just about the physical stuff and knowing how to make you feel good. he knows lots about reading people, knowing how to make them feel wanted and understood. heâs learned what works, what doesnât, and how to please a partner in ways that make them melt.
he knows how to take his time, how to build that tension, and when to slow things down. heâs got that natural rhythm thatâs just right, making sure youâre comfortable, but also giving you exactly what you need when it comes to your desires. and when it comes to giving or receiving, heâs all about the details; the gentle touches, the teasing, the deep, intense moments. thereâs no awkwardness with him. he knows when to press, when to pull back, and when to take things to the next level.
but donât get it twisted, heâs not cocky about it. his experience comes from years of both hunting and dealing with personal stuff, and thereâs something about his confidence that makes him so good at pleasing. heâs been around enough to know how to handle things, but with you, itâs not just about getting off. he wants to make sure youâre satisfied, emotionally and physically. heâs all in when it comes to giving you a good time, even if he keeps it cool on the outside.
of course, thereâs a soft spot when it comes to you. because with the way dean feels for you, heâd want to make sure everything is perfect. all that experience? Itâs used in service of you, babe, making you feel like youâre the only person who matters. and trust me, when heâs focused on you, heâs a damn expert at making you feel amazing.
so sweethearts, yes, dean knows what heâs doing. heâs got the experience to back it up, and he uses it to keep you hooked, wanting more every single time. <3
F = FAVORITE POSITION..
itâs definitely the one where heâs in full control, making sure youâre completely at his mercy, but letâs be real, he likes mixing it up depending on how the nightâs going. his go-to? probably doggy style, hands down.
when heâs got you in that position, he gets to see everything.. every little movement you make, every expression that crosses your face. it drives him wild knowing heâs the one causing it. heâll grip your hips, pulling you back into him as he takes his time, slow and deep. the way your body reacts under him? Itâs like pure music to his ears, and that view? It drives him insane. He loves feeling you clench around him, knowing that every thrust makes you feel it even more.
but thatâs not all!! deanâs also big on missionary when heâs feeling extra connected. he likes to look you in the eye, making sure youâre completely focused on him, feeling every inch of the connection. he loves that intimate, powerful rhythm where he can feel your heart racing beneath his, his hands tracing your curves as he moves inside you cuz thatâs when things get real intense.
and when he wants to switch it up, he doesnât mind getting a little rough with you, flipping you over, having you straddle him or him taking you from behind while youâre bent over a surface. whatever drives the mood. the chemistry between you two? it makes him want to explore every possible position, and heâs down to try new things, especially when it means making sure youâre both satisfied.
at the end of the day, deanâs favorite position is the one that makes you feel like youâre his, but itâs not about being possessive. itâs about connection, mostly. a sweet balance of passion and control. and dear god, heâs got plenty of ways to show it.
G = GOOFY..
dean can definitely get a little goofy in the moment, esp when he feels comfortable with you. itâs like he knows he can let his guard down and just be himself. while heâs definitely the type to take charge and keep things intense, heâs got that playful side that comes out in the heat of the moment.
sometimes, when things get heated and youâre both in the middle of it, heâll throw in a cheeky comment just to make you laugh. he might tease you with a quick âiâve been waiting for this all day,â or a smug little smirk while youâre on top of him, making sure heâs enjoying every second. his confidence lets him crack those playful jokes because he knows heâs got you hooked; and he loves seeing you blush when he gets a little too cheeky.
dean can also get a little goofy in the way he teases you physically. light, playful taps on your ass, or that sexy growl he uses when heâs trying to rile you up. heâs got a natural way of mixing humor and passion that keeps you on your toes. he might even act like heâs serious at first, but then that mischievous grin pops out, showing you heâs not taking things too seriously.
the way heâll whisper something ridiculously sweet in your ear, only to follow it up with something teasing, like âwhoâs the lucky one now?â he can switch between being intense and ridiculously charming in a second, making you laugh one moment, then melt the next.
but when itâs time to get serious, dean knows how to flip the switch. If things get more intimate or passionate, that goofy side fades into the background, and heâs all about the connection. but even then, youâll catch those little glimpses of humor, the way he looks at you with that playful glint in his eye, showing heâs not completely lost in the moment, heâs just enjoying it with you.
so, yeah, while heâs definitely got that serious energy, deanâs no stranger to being goofy when the mood strikes. and honestly? itâs part of the fun. it keeps the vibe light, playful, and even more intimate. that mix of humor and intensity makes the connection between you two even hotter.
H = HAIR..
âŠnow, when it comes to down there, oh yeah, dean keeps himself trimmed. heâs not the type to go completely bald, but he definitely takes care of business. he keeps things neat, a little shorter, so everythingâs clean and ready to go when itâs time for action. itâs just the right amount of scruff, leaving enough to tease, but nothing over the top. deanâs whole schtick is about being practical, but heâs also aware of how much it adds to the vibe. he knows exactly what works for him and what makes his partner want more.
as for you, being completely honest, he wants to feel the texture when his lips press against your skin, that slight pull of hair beneath his lips as he moves lower. the perfect amount; not too much, not too little. when he feels the light trim and the soft brush of it against his fingers or mouth, it drives him wild. he might tease you about it when heâs between your legs, maybe give a little chuckle before running his fingers through the soft, trimmed hair, and whispering âgod, you know this is exactly how I like itâ as he looks up at you, hungry eyes burning with desire.
if youâre the type who prefers to keep things smooth, thatâs good too. because when deanâs down there, heâs all about pleasure, and heâll take his time, loving every inch of you. but give him just a hint of natural, and thatâs his weakness. heâll get lost in the feeling of your skin, fingers grazing over every curve, savoring the way the hair feels when itâs just enough to give him that little extra something. it drives him crazy when you arch your back, a slight gasp escaping your lips, all because heâs finding that sweet spot. he just loves savoring the experience of you more than just the action itself.
so dean doesnât have that much of a opinion abt it, itâs about what turns him on, and youâre turning him on anyway. whether you like a clean smooth look or a little natural fuzz, heâs just as obsessed with how you feel about it. but if youâre asking him, that little hint of trim? itâs justt the right level of perfection to make him lose control.
I = INTIMACY..
dean might have that gruff exterior, but when it comes to intimacy? heâs got a side to him that will absolutely melt you. when you two are wrapped up in each other, itâs like the world disappears.
heâs the type who canât help but stare at you with that softness in his eyes when heâs touching you; gently running his hands up your arms, tracing your jaw, just taking you in like he canât believe youâre actually there with him. thereâs this feeling he gives off, like heâs not just having sex, but connecting with you on a level that means so much more than just the physical release. heâs a completely present partner.
when heâs inside you, itâs like heâs not in a rush, savoring every inch of the moment. thereâs no slamming or pushing for a fast release. deanâs always making sure youâre feeling every single second of him. whether itâs kissing you deeply, whispering sweet things in your ear, or taking the time to gently stroke your body while heâs inside you, itâs about showing you just how much you mean to him in that moment.
dean doesnât need to say a word to make you feel loved. his hands, the way he looks at you, the way he moves, his words, it all speaks louder than anything he could say. his kisses are deep, passionate, but with that soft, tender edge that shows he cares. every caress is deliberate, every movement intentional.
when he pulls you close after, heâll hold you in his arms like youâre his world, his heartbeat steady against yours, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on your skin. heâs always checking in with you, making sure youâre okay, both physically and emotionally. Itâs the romantic side of him that you rarely get to see, but when itâs just you and him? thatâs when he shows you all the affection and love heâs been hiding under his tough exterior.
intimacy with dean is a beautiful mix of gentle passion and heart-stopping moments. heâll bring you closer, make you feel desired in ways you didnât even know you needed, and leave you breathless with every second of it. but itâs never just about the sex. itâs about him connecting with you, body and soul, and making you feel like youâre the most important thing in his world.
J = JACK OFF..
deanâs a man of many talents, and when heâs alone? heâs not shy about taking care of his own needs. letâs be real the manâs got a lot of built-up tension, and he knows how to relieve it.
deanâs not a guy who needs to jerk off all the time, but if heâs been going through a stretch where heâs missing you or hasnât been able to see you in a while, heâs definitely going to be indulging a little more frequently. if heâs on the road, and heâs away from you for a few days, you can bet that heâs getting in at least a few sessions, or when things have been tense between the two of you, heâs not going to forget about how much he wants you.
and heâs about thinking of you, all the time. when heâs missing you, or when heâs worked up after seeing you earlier, maybe after a steamy, flirtatious interaction.
when heâs in the mood, dean doesnât rush it. heâs got a deliberate rhythm as he strokes himself, thinking about you. heâs imagining your body beneath his, your moans in his ear, your hands gripping his back as he takes you deeper. heâll bite his lip, letting his thoughts of you fuel the fire, and if heâs really worked up, he might even mumble your name, like itâs a prayer that makes him hit that spot just right.
dean knows exactly how to handle himself. his hand moves with just the right pressure, and his breaths get quicker, heavier, as his thoughts go straight to you. how you feel, how you look when youâre under him. he might even get a little rougher with himself when heâs thinking of you taking control or teasing him.
but when heâs about to come itâs like his brain switches to those intimate moments with you, the way your body shudders beneath his touch, how you look when youâre lost in pleasure. heâll let out a groan as he finally releases, knowing exactly how much he wants you, how needy heâs gotten for you. and afterward? you can bet heâs not ashamed. heâs used to getting his hands dirty, but heâll always clean up and shake it off like itâs just part of the job.
so yeah, dean gets off on his own, but itâs always with you in mind, a little fantasy to keep the fire burning when youâre not around.
K = KINK..
deanâs a man whoâs lived through a lot, and heâs had his fair share of experiences, both good and bad. so, when it comes to his kinks, heâs definitely someone who knows what he likes, and heâs open to a bit of variety.
POWER PLAY.. he likes to be in control, especially when things get heated. he loves the way you melt under his touch, how your body responds to him taking charge. whether itâs gently pushing you down on the bed or pinning you against the wall, dean gets a thrill out of seeing you submit to him. but it comes from a place of mutual control. heâll let you take the reins when it suits, but only when heâs good and ready for it.
BITING.. dean is soo into the idea of claiming you. heâs not afraid to bite, nip, or mark you with hickeys. itâs about showing everyone that youâre his. he wants to leave his mark on your body, something that says, âyeah, you belong to meâ, but itâs also a sign that youâre his desire.
ROLEPLAY.. honestly? i think deanâs got a thing for slipping into different characters. sometimes itâs a hunting situation, sometimes itâs something a little more dangerous. he loves the idea of playing a different version of himself, or making you act out a scenario where heâs your protector, your savior, your everything. the idea of pretending youâre strangers or something forbidden really gets him going, and heâll do whatever it takes to bring that fantasy to life.
IMPACT PLAY.. oh, he loves a little spanking. heâll get rough, but in a way that keeps the pleasure high. he might not do it every time, but when he does, he knows exactly where to land his hand, just enough to make you gasp in surprise, followed by a whimper of need.
TEASING & DENIAL.. deanâs great at this. he loves making you wait, teasing you with a kiss, a touch, and just enough attention to leave you desperate. heâll get you so close to the edge, but then he pulls back, just to make you ache for more. Itâs a power play, sure, but itâs also about making you feel like youâre at his mercy.
DIRTY TALK.. deanâs mouth might be full of jokes and sarcasm, but when itâs just you two, his dirty talk can be downright filthy. heâll whisper the dirtiest things in your ear, telling you exactly what he wants to do to you, making sure you know how much he needs you. that low growl of his? yeah, youâre done for.
BONDAGE.. deanâs not afraid of a little bondage. heâs into tying you up in the heat of the moment, making you submit completely to him. whether itâs just a simple tie or something more elaborate, he loves the visual and the control it gives him. the way youâre completely at his mercy. itâs a massive turn-on for him. dean will tie you up just enough to keep you restrained, but not so tight youâre uncomfortable, making sure youâre both safe and, well, fully into it.
MORNING SEX.. dean loves the feeling of waking up next to you. thereâs something about the vulnerability of early mornings that makes him want to make love to you before the world even has a chance to wake up. heâs gentle at first, but it doesnât take long before things heat up, and heâs got you pressed against him, rutting into you, his hands roaming over your body. thereâs something so intimate and raw about the way he makes you feel in the morning, like youâre his whole world, and he canât wait any longer to be inside you.
PUBLIC/RISKY SEX.. thereâs a bit of a thrill in doing it in places where you shouldnât. maybe itâs a quickie in the back of the impala when youâre on the road, or sneaking around while samâs off doing his own thing, dean loves the danger of possibly getting caught. the risk makes everything hotter. the adrenaline rush of having to keep quiet, of needing to be fast, but also wanting to drag it out as long as possible? it makes his blood pump harder, and he knows itâs just as much a turn-on for you as it is for him.
L = LOCATION..
letâs be honest. deanâs not picky, but he definitely has his favorites. this man is always on the road, always moving, so heâs got to get creative when it comes to where he gets down to business.
THE IMPALA.. this oneâs a classic. the backseat, the hood, hell, even the front seat if things get desperate. baby is deanâs home, and thereâs something about having you in his space that makes it all the more intimate. the windows fogging up, the leather creaking under your bodies, the absolute risk of getting caught, he lives for it. plus, he loves having you ride him in the driverâs seat, gripping the steering wheel behind your back, knowing damn well heâll never be able to sit there again without thinking of you.
MOTEL ROOMS.. deanâs been in hundreds of cheap, crappy motels, but when youâre there? they donât feel so bad. the shitty wallpaper, the questionable beds? none of it matters when youâre beneath him, moaning his name. the fact that you two donât stay in one place for too long, it makes every night feel urgent, needy, like he has to take full advantage of every second before youâre off hunting again. and letâs be real; he loves when you get loud, and in a motel, thereâs no one to stop you.
AGAINST THE WALL.. not necessarily a location, but dean loves pinning you against a wall. thereâs something about having you trapped between his body and the hard surface that drives him insane. he loves the way you cling to him, the way you have to hold on, and the power he feels when he has you right where he wants you.
SHOWERS.. deanâs a sucker for shower sex. he loves the intimacy of it. hot water, steam filling the air, the way your bodies slide against each other. heâll stand behind you, hands roaming everywhere, whispering filthy things in your ear as he helps you brace yourself against the tile. and after? he gets to wash you off, take his time kissing every inch of you, and maybe go for another round while youâre still warm and slippery. everybody wins.
HOOD OF BABY.. dean is a romantic at heart, even if he doesnât admit it. thereâs something about pulling off on a deserted road in the middle of the night, laying you out on the hood of the Impala, and having his way with you under the stars. knowing that in that moment, itâs just you and him against the world. plus, he loves the way the cool metal feels against your skin, the contrast between the chill of the night air and the heat of your bodies moving together.
M = MOTIVATION..
dean might act all cool and in control, but the second you push the right buttons? heâs donee for. so what gets him off the most?
CONFIDENCE.. thereâs nothing sexier to dean than watching you take charge. if you walk up to him, grab his collar, and whisper something dirty in his ear? immediate problem in his jeans. he loves knowing you want him just as much as he wants you. if you tease him, pulling back from a kiss too soon, giving him that look that says âcome and get meâ.. heâs going to get you.
but on the flip side? if youâre a little shy, a little hesitant, biting your lip like youâre unsure if you should make the first move? yeah. that also destroys him. he loves pulling that shyness out of you, making you let go of your inhibitions until youâre gasping his name. thatâs all the motivation he needs.
YOUR BODY.. dean lives for the little things; the curve of your hips when you walk past him, the soft skin of your thighs when he rests his hand on them, the way your neck tilts when you throw your head back laughing. itâs the casual, effortless sexiness you donât even realize you have. and if youâre wearing something that hugs your figure just right? heâs barely holding himself together.
YOUR VOICE.. deanâs a sucker for sounds. the way your breath hitches when he gets too close, that soft gasp when he drags his fingers down your spine, the way you moan when he finally gives you what you want. if you let out the smallest whimper? heâs done for. it strokes his ego and sets him on fire at the same time.
and if you talk dirty to him? ohhh, babe, he loses it. whisper something in his ear, tell him what you need from him, what you want him to do to you, heâs throwing you on the bed before you can finish your sentence.
SEEING YOU FRUSTRATED.. dean loves a good challenge. if youâre trying to stay in control but he keeps pushing you right to the edge, and you start getting desperate for him? thatâs it. thatâs the moment he snaps. he loves teasing you, making you beg, watching you squirm under his touch. the more you fight him on it, the harder it is for him to hold back.
YOU AFTER A HUNT/WORKOUT.. dean is an absolute animal for the way you look after any kind of physical activity. your hair a little messy, your skin flushed, your body all warm from exertion? it just makes him think about what youâd look like beneath him, all breathless and needy. and if youâre wearing something a little tight, maybe some sweat dripping down your chest? HES TRYING NOT TO CUM IN HIS PANTS.
N = NO..
dean might be down for a lot, but there are definitely things that cross the line for him. For one, heâs not into anything that makes you uncomfortable. if you so much as hesitate or seem unsure, itâs over. heâs always paying attention, making sure youâre into it just as much as he is, and if he ever got the feeling you werenât? heâd pull back immediately, no questions asked.
pain that goes beyond a little roughness is a hell no for him. heâll leave grip marks on your hips, occasional love bite, maybe even pin your wrists if youâre feeling particularly desperate, but hurting you? thatâs not even on the table. he might love making you squirm, but itâs never about making you feel bad. he needs to know youâre enjoying every second of it, even when heâs driving you crazy.
another hard no? anything that makes things impersonal. heâs not the type to treat sex like some casual transaction, when heâs with you, heâs with you. so anything that makes it feel detached, things like calling you degrading names in a way that isnât playful, acting like youâre just some random hookup, or taking the emotion out of it completely kills the mood for him. he needs that connection, that fire, that undeniable feeling that youâre his, and heâs yours.
and lastly? anything that risks losing control too much. dean can be dominant, sure, but heâs never going to push things to a point where it feels like heâs not himself. heâs got his demons (literally and figuratively) and he never wants to cross a line that makes either of you feel unsafe. the moment things stop being good for you, they stop being good for him, too. because at the end of the day heâs in it for you.
O = ORAL..
teased you guys a bit already in C, anyways! dean lives for oral, giving, receiving, all of it. heâs ridiculously good at it, too, because letâs be real, the man is competitive in everything he does. if heâs going down on you, itâs to wreck you, to leave you so overstimulated and shaking that you can barely remember your own name.
when deanâs between your thighs, heâs super dedicated. he takes his time, really enjoying it, like itâs his favorite meal. heâs got this cocky little smirk when he first gets down there, like he already knows heâs about to ruin you, and he loves hearing how fast he can pull those desperate little sounds out of you. heâs teasing, using his fingers, dragging his tongue in slow, deliberate movements, only to switch things up when you least expect it. and the eye contact is devastating. heâll look up at you with those green eyes, pupils blown wide, and if youâre gripping his hair, pulling him closer, moaning his name? thatâs it. he thrives on that, moaning into you just to watch you fall apart. and he will not stop until heâs got you trembling, gasping, completely lost in it.
as for receiving dean loves it, obviously, but what really gets him isnât just the feeling, itâs the way you do it. if youâre teasing him, dragging your nails down his stomach, taking your time just to watch him get frustrated? immediate weakness. heâs a sucker for eye contact, for feeling your lips around him while you look up at him with that innocent little gaze that he knows is anything but. and if you go slow at first, making him beg, gripping his thighs or holding his hips down when he tries to thrust heâs losing it. he loves when you make him work for it, when you edge him just a little, force him to ask for more. but the second you actually give in and let him have it, heâs loud, moaning your name, throwing his head back, gripping the sheets or your hair because it just feels too good. and when he finally canât take it anymore, heâs dragging you up to kiss you, growling something filthy about how good you are for him, and immediately flipping you over to return the favor.
P = PACE..
deanâs pace is everything. fast and rough when heâs desperate for you, slow and deep when he wants to savor it, but always intense no matter what. when heâs needy, been thinking about you all damn day and finally has you underneath him, thereâs no patience left. heâs pushing you up against the wall, knocking the breath out of you, gripping your hips hard as he pounds into you like heâs got something to prove. he loves hearing the way you gasp, the way your nails dig into his back, how you whimper his name like you canât take it, but he knows you can. he wants you to feel him in every inch of your body the next morning, to know that no one could ever touch you the way he does. his thrusts are deep, relentless, his fingers gripping the back of your neck as he growls in your ear, âthis what you wanted, sweetheart?â
but when he wants to take his time, thatâs a whole different kind of torture. he starts slow, just to watch you squirm, rolling his hips into you deliberately, dragging out every stroke, making you feel every inch of him. his hands are everywhere. on your waist, on your face, your thighs, gripping your wrists above your head just to keep you from pulling him in faster. he knows exactly what heâs doing, watching your face, drinking in every little gasp and moan, smirking when you whine for him to move faster. but he wonât. not yet. heâll tease you, whisper filthy promises in your ear, telling you exactly what heâs gonna do to you once youâre begging for it.
it doesnât matter if itâs fast or slow, rough or deep, when deanâs inside you, itâs always toe-curling, mind-numbing, earth-shattering. heâs not just fucking you; heâs taking you, owning every single sound you make, making damn sure you know who you belong to.
Q = QUICKIE..
he thrives on the thrill of them, the way you barely have time to think before heâs got you pressed up against the nearest surface, unbuckling his belt with that cocky little smirk. he loves that rushed, desperate feeling, where thereâs no time for slow teasing, no time to strip completely, just pure, raw need.
heâs the type to pull you into a supply closet at a dive bar, shove you up against the impala, or drag you into the motel bathroom while samâs in the other room, covering your mouth with his hand as he growls, âgotta keep quiet, sweetheart.â and even though itâs rushed, even though itâs all about getting off as fast as possible, he never half-asses it. his pace is still devastating, his hands still gripping you tight, making sure you feel every second of it. he gets off on the idea that you canât wait, that you need him now, just as badly as he needs you.
quickies happen a lot with him.. before hunts, after hunts, during hunts when the tension gets too high and he just has to do something about it. he doesnât care where, against the Impala with the doors barely shielding you from the outside world, in a bar bathroom, even in the backseat if you tease him too much on a long drive. hell, if you so much as look at him the right way, heâll pull you into the nearest empty space and take care of it right there.
but the best part is in the way he acts completely normal afterward, like he wasnât just wrecking you two minutes ago. heâll walk out of the room, running a hand through his hair, giving you that smirk while he adjusts his belt, acting like he didnât just ruin you in record time. and if sam or anyone else notices you looking thoroughly wrecked, dean just chuckles, winks at you, and mutters, âwhat? canât help it when my girl looks that good.â pervert.
R = RISK..
dean is definitely down to take risks. he thrives on a little danger, and when it comes to you, heâs got a filthy, adventurous side thatâs always looking for new ways to keep things interesting. he loves the thrill of getting caught, as we discussed, of doing something he shouldnât be doing, knowing that youâre both toeing the line of whatâs acceptable and whatâs downright reckless. heâs not gonna do anything that makes you uncomfortable, but if youâre game? heâs all in.
public stuff? big yes. iâm probably repeating sm stuff but heâs got a thing for taking you somewhere risky, against the Impala with nothing but the darkness to hide you, in a bar bathroom with music thumping outside, in the backseat while samâs off getting food. he lives for those moments where he has to slap a hand over your mouth, whispering in your ear, âbe good for me, sweetheart. donât wanna get caught, do we?â but you both know heâd get off on the idea of someone almost hearing.
as for trying new things? dean is curious, and if you suggest something, heâll at least consider it. so yeah, heâll push boundaries, heâll test limits, heâll get filthy, but heâll always pull back if you need him to. because for all the risks heâs willing to take, the one thing heâll never gamble with? you.
S = STAMINA..
dean has insane stamina. like, weâre talking borderline superhero levels of staying power. heâs not the type to just rush through it and call it a night, when heâs into you, heâs in it for the long haul. youâll see him go for multiple rounds, no problem. heâs the kind of guy whoâll keep going until youâre absolutely spent, and even then, he might give you a second wind. because dean? dean knows how to make it last.
after the first round, heâs not slowing down. in fact, he might get even more fired up, his confidence only growing as he sees you fall apart for him. and the thing is, he doesnât just go fast and hard and get off quick; heâs got control, so he can pace himself while still making sure youâre writhing under him. heâll adjust his rhythm, slow things down when you need it, build you back up, only to throw you back into the fire with his relentless pace.
if itâs been a long day, a stressful hunt, or just a case of too much tension between you two, he can go for hours. heâll go until youâre on the brink of exhaustion, making you beg for him to stop or giving you exactly what you want. but even after youâve had your fill, heâll still pull you in for more, teasing you about how perfect you are, how you look so fucked out beneath him. the way he looks at you, all sweaty and breathless, tells you heâs not done, not even close.
he loves the challenge, loves showing you just how much he can handle, and every round is another chance to make you shatter for him. so yeah, stamina? heâs got it in spades.
T = TOYS..
deanâs not opposed to using toys, but itâs not something he needs all the time. if heâs in the mood to experiment, heâs down, and he might surprise you by pulling something out of his bag. he doesnât have a collection or anything flashy, but heâs got a few items stashed away for when the moment feels right. maybe itâs a vibrating toy, something to use on you while heâs taking his time with your body, or maybe itâs a blindfold or a set of handcuffs something to heighten the sensation, and get you begging for more.
when it comes to using them on you, dean loves to take control. heâll slip a toy inside you while heâs kissing you, watching your face as the pleasure builds and he takes his time with you. he might tell you to keep quiet, to stay still, while he moves the toy slowly, getting you worked up while he strokes your skin. heâs into it, watching how you react, getting off on the way you squirm, the way you beg him for more.
if deanâs ever using a toy on himself? itâs probably just a quick solo thing when heâs away for a long stretch of time, maybe after a particularly stressful hunt. but honestly? he much prefers the real thing. toys are fun for when heâs feeling a little extra, but nothing compares to the way you feel wrapped around him. so, yeah, toys are in the picture occasionally, but theyâre more of a spicy bonus rather than a regular go-to.
U = UNFAIR..
dean is a master of teasing. itâs practically in his DNA. he loves to get you worked up, make you beg for him, and he absolutely thrives on the power he has over your body and your reactions. thereâs nothing he loves more than seeing you squirm, the way your breath catches when he drags his fingers over your skin just a little too slowly, the way your eyes roll back when he whispers something filthy in your ear. heâs got a wicked sense of humor, and teasing you? itâs his favorite game.
he knows exactly what drives you wild, what makes you ache for him and he will absolutely milk that. heâs totally aware of how badly you want him, how desperate you are for that release, and he loves keeping you on the edge, giving you just enough to keep you hooked but never quite enough to make you snap. he knows it drives you crazy, and thatâs exactly why he does it.
sometimes, when heâs in the mood to be a little extra sadistic, heâll barely touch you, just enough to make you itch for more, but never enough to actually give you what you need. heâll tease you with his hands, with his lips, maybe even with his words; telling you how good you look, how he canât wait to ruin you, only to pull back again, leaving you desperate for him.
itâs not that dean is being mean.. heâs just having fun, enjoying how you fall apart in his hands. and the best part for him is the moment you finally get that release, itâs worth every second of the teasing. when he finally lets you have it, itâs mind-blowing. and heâs got no problem doing it all over again, because teasing is just part of the fun for him.
V = VOLUME..
dean is definitely loud in the heat of the moment. heâs not the type to stay quiet, especially when things are getting heated. his moans, grunts, and low growls fill the room, getting deeper the more intense things get. heâs not shy about expressing how much heâs enjoying himself, and the sounds he makes are like fuel to the fire, only making you want him more. his voice gets rougher as he gets closer, the way he groans your name sounding almost desperate, like he canât get enough of you.
heâll growl when you move just the right way, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper when heâs trying to keep himself under control but failing miserably. when heâs on top of you, heâll grunt in time with his thrusts, his hands gripping the sheets or your skin, as if he needs something to ground him. when heâs kissing you, he canât help but moan into your mouth, the sounds deep and needy, telling you just how much he wants you.
and when you really hit the right spot? youâll hear him loud and clear. heâs not shy about letting you know how good it feels, and itâs a total turn-on to hear those ragged breaths, the way his voice cracks when he says, âgod, babe⊠youâre so tight.â he might even get more vocal as things go on, grumbling something filthy in your ear like, âyouâre making me lose control.â
in the heat of it all, deanâs volume is as much a part of the experience as everything else. his sounds only add to the intensity, making everything feel real, making every movement feel like it matters. and when itâs over? heâll probably be panting, chuckling, or murmuring how perfect you are, still trying to catch his breath from all the noise he made.
W = WILD CARD..
dean loves watching you. when it comes to it, dean is absolutely mesmerized by every little thing you do. it starts off slow. heâll catch you in moments when youâre unaware, when youâre just going about your day, and he canât help but let his gaze linger. maybe youâre getting dressed, stretching after a nap, or adjusting yourself on the couch, and heâll just stare, his eyes locked on you like heâs memorizing every curve, every movement. thereâs something about seeing you unaware, just being your natural, beautiful self, that drives him absolutely wild. He might not say anything, just look at you with this low, dark expression that makes you feel hot under his gaze.
he loves watching you when youâre aware, when you know exactly what heâs doing, and the tension between you two gets electric. he might make you stand in front of him, just so he can admire you, his eyes moving over your body, drinking you in. when heâs getting you undressed, heâll slow things down, taking his time to look at you, making sure you feel exposed and desired. every inch of your body is a masterpiece to him, and heâs all about seeing it, touching it, taking it in.
when youâre in bed together, heâll love when youâre on top, especially when youâre riding him or grinding down on him, because he can watch every movement you make, the way your body reacts to him. heâll watch the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the way your eyes flutter shut when heâs hitting the right spot. heâll groan under his breath, watching you move, maybe even whispering things like, âthatâs it, baby, just like that,â or âgod, you look so fucking good like this.â
for dean, the act of watching is an extension of the control he has. he loves to see you fall apart under his gaze, to see you lose yourself in the moment. itâs a form of foreplay in itself, a way for him to build tension, to draw things out before he finally gives you the release you crave. the more he watches, the more addicted he gets to the sight of you, and it becomes this unspoken dance, a game where heâs always a step ahead, enjoying how you react.
X = X-RAY..
deanâs confidence in this department is off the charts, and he knows heâs got something to be proud of. heâs not the type to brag, but when you catch a glimpse, you definitely donât miss it. heâs got a solid, nice size that makes you ache to touch him, with just the right amount of thickness and length to hit every right spot. he can make you shiver with anticipation just by pulling down his jeans, letting you see it all before he lets you touch, before he lets you do anything.
heâs big enough to make you take a deep breath, make you want to prepare yourself, but he knows how to use it, how to give you just the right amount of pressure, just the right angle. heâs more than willing to build you up, letting you take your time with him, watching you as you slowly trace your fingers down his length, his breath catching every time you get too close.
and alright, babe, letâs be real. deanâs got a size thatâs definitely above average. weâre talking about around 7 to 8 inches. heâs thick too, enough to stretch you just right and make you feel every inch of him, pushing all the right buttons. heâs got the perfect length and girth that makes every thrust feel deep, filling, and intense. when heâs inside you, you can feel it, and you canât help but gasp when he hits that spot that drives you wild.
but itâs not just about size. he knows how to work with what heâs got. heâs slow, deliberate, using every inch of himself to maximize the pleasure, to make you beg for more. heâs got that perfect balance of everything, and when you feel him, when you take him in, thereâs no mistaking that he knows exactly what to do with it.
Y = YEARNING..
deanâs sex drive is through the roof. this man is always hungry for you. whether heâs been working on a case all day or just had some time to himself, his need for you is almost constant. heâs got that deep, insatiable yearning, like he canât get enough of you. itâs not just physical, thereâs something emotional tied to it too. heâs always looking for that connection, that intimacy, and he craves the release you give him. he doesnât shy away from taking things to the next level whenever the moment feels right.
heâs the type to get touchy and needy, even in public. a lingering hand on your waist, a kiss on the back of your neck when no oneâs looking. dean will always find a way to sneak in his desire. but when it comes to the bedroom (or wherever you happen to be), heâs like a man possessed, eager to claim you and make sure you know just how much he wants you. heâll go for round after round if youâre both up for it, each time a little more intense than the last.
if youâve been apart for any amount of time, the moment youâre alone? itâs like a switch flips, and heâs all over you. heâll get you worked up in seconds, kissing you like he hasnât seen you in forever, his hands roaming all over, eager to feel you again. you wonât have to wait long before heâs all in, fully driven by that yearning to have you, to feel you, to make you feel as good as he does when heâs with you.
Z = ZZZ..
after everythingâs said and done, deanâs not the type to just crash immediately. but it doesnât take long. if youâve had an intense round of sex, heâll be exhausted, and itâs not uncommon for him to be a little out of breath, still feeling the high of it all. he might pull you close, his arm wrapped around you as you both try to catch your breath, and once the adrenaline fades, heâs pretty much out. deanâs a heavy sleeper, so after heâs satisfied, heâll be out like a light, snuggling you in his arms with a content, relaxed sigh.
heâs got a calming way about him after sex; almost like itâs his way of grounding himself. you can feel his body relax next to you, and itâs like he just melts into the bed, not really caring about the world outside. if youâre still awake, though, heâll lazily pull you into him, wanting to keep you close, maybe whispering something sweet or teasing you about how perfect you were, before his eyes start to flutter. and soon enough, youâll feel his breath even out as he drifts off into a deep sleep, his body completely satisfied and at rest.
ê€ summary: a lazy morning with dean turns downright sinful fast. filled with touches, soft laughter, and the kind of love that lingers long after⊠until sam walks in, coffee in hand, and instantly regrets his life choices.
⯠warnings: mdni!! explicit content, fluff & smut mix, oral sex (reader receiving), light swearing, unwanted coffee delivery, heavy doses of deanâs cocky charm, sam traumaâą (poor guy needs therapy), mild afterglow cuteness, a lot of giggling and awkward eye contact, motel room shenanigans.
⯠notes: LMAOO sam, mah poor sweet baby, did NOT sign up for this. â(ă _ <,, ) HE JUST WANTED TO BRING COFFEE..
mornings with dean were usually slow, lazy things filled with the scent of coffee lingering in the air. but today⊠today, dean was in a mood.
you felt it before you even opened your eyes. the warmth of his body pressed against your back, his stubble scratching as he nuzzled into your neck. then, his hand. wandering.
âmm,â you grumbled sleepily, trying to burrow deeper into the pillow. âdean, itâs too earlyâŠâ
âtoo early for what?â his voice was husky, thick with sleep, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. âfor me to touch my girl?â
his hand dragged lazily down your stomach, fingers skimming over your bare thigh. you shivered.
âyouâre insatiable,â you murmured, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips.
dean chuckled, his breath warm against your neck. ânah, just obsessed with you.â his hand slipped under the hem of his own t-shirt that youâd stolen to sleep in, fingertips teasing over your hip. âyou gonna stop me, sweetheart?â
you let out a contented sigh, tilting your head to give him more access as his lips trailed slow, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. âiâd be an idiot to stop you.â
âdamn right.â
and just like that, you were flipped onto your back, dean hovering over you, a cocky grin on his face. his green eyes sparkled with something both mischievous and downright sinful.
âyouâre unbelievable,â you huffed, running a hand through his messy hair.
dean leaned down, lips barely brushing over yours. âand you love it.â
yeah. yeah, you did.
his kiss was slow and deep. he had all the time in the world. his hands roamed, tracing every inch of you like he was committing it to memory.
dean was all over you, lips pressing slow, teasing kisses along your jaw, your neck, the dip between your collarbones. his weight caged you in, keeping you right where he wanted you, but his touch was gentle. worshipping.
âmmm, i could stay here all day,â he murmured, nipping at your skin just enough to make you squirm.
you tangled your fingers in his hair, sighing as he kissed his way down your chest. âwhoâs stopping you?â
dean chuckled, voice low and lazy. âsamâs gonna kill us if we donât hit the road soon.â
you grinned, dragging your nails lightly down his back. âthen maybe you should stop teasing and get to it, de.â
his eyes flicked up to yours, dark with amusement. âoh, sweetheart⊠you know better than to challenge me like that.â
before you could process his words, he was shifting lower, trailing his lips over your stomach, hands gripping your thighs as he settled between them. his smirk was downright sinful.
âdeanââ
âi got you, baby,â he murmured against your skin, his voice sending shivers down your spine.
and damn, did he.
he took his sweet time, teasing you with his mouth, his hands. dean wasnât in a hurry, that much was clear. he was enjoying taking you apart piece by piece, relishing in every little reaction he drew from you. every moan and shiver fueled his own hunger.
his lips found the soft skin of your inner thighs, and he sucked a mark there, his stubble leaving a delicious burn in the wake of his mouth. you bucked against him, but his grip on your hips was relentless, holding you down as he continued his slow, torturous path up your body.
âpatience, sweetheart,â he drawled, his gravelly voice sending heat pooling between your thighs. he nipped at your thigh, the sharp edge of his teeth just shy of pain, just enough to make your toes curl. âgotta enjoy my dessert first, right?â
"damn, you look good like this," he murmured, his voice a rough caress in the intimate space between you. his fingers flexed on your hips, like he was physically holding himself back. "so pretty, all spread out for me..."
he let his nose brush against you, inhaling deeply. âsmell so good too, baby. so sweet, just for me.â his lips curled into a wicked grin as he added, ânow, letâs see how you tasteâŠâ
without another word, he hooked a finger under the fabric, slowly pulling your panties down, past your hips, down your thighs, off your legs, and tossing them away. he took a moment to admire the view, licking his lips in anticipation.
âmm⊠so desperate for me already,â he murmured, and you could hear the smug satisfaction in his voice. âlook at you⊠all wet and needy, just for me.â
and then he was on you, his tongue parting your folds, and your brain short circuited. his name left your lips in a broken whimper as he coaxed pleasure from you with slow, measured strokes. heat coiled low in your belly, building with every movement, but he wasn't letting you reach that peak just yet. he was taking his time, like savoring a fine wine. every touch was calculated to keep you right at the edge, but not quite yet.
it was almost too much. the heat, the pressure, the way he knew just how to move to make you see stars. your hands found his hair, fingers tangling in the short locks as you gasped his name in a ragged moan.
he groaned against you at the sound of his name, his grip on your thighs tightening. âmmm, i like that,â he murmured, his voice sending vibrations through you that left your legs trembling. âsay it again, sweetheart.â
you obeyed reflexively, your voice a breathless whisper, âdean⊠dean, deanââ
he hummed in approval, the sound sending tremors through you. âthatâs it,â he growled, the scrape of his stubble deliciously pleasurable. âfuck, youâre beautiful like this.â
you felt like you were losing yourself in the sensations, your body writhing under his touch. dean seemed to know every sensitive spot, his mouth finding them and lavishing attention on each one, until you were mewling with desperation.
âdean, pleaseâŠâ you gasped, your fingers clenching more tightly in his hair. your body was trembling on the edge, needing his permission to fall apart.
âiâve got you, baby,â he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths. âjust let go. iâve got you.â
his words were like a command, sending you spiraling over the edge. a shudder rocked through you, leaving you wrecked beneath him. pleasure washed over you, hot and sweet, and you couldnât hold back the strangled cry that escaped your lips.
dean finally made his way back up your body, looking far too proud of himself. you were still catching your breath when he leaned in, lips brushing against yours.
âyou awake now?â he teased.
you huffed, shoving his chest playfully. âcocky bastard.â
he grinned, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him so you were sprawled over his chest. his fingers traced lazy circles on your spine. âyou love that about me.â
you kissed his jaw, settling against him with a satisfied hum. âyeah, yeah.â
deanâs hand brushed over your hip as he leaned his forehead against yours, his voice a rough whisper. âyouâre incredible. fucking incredible.â
you giggled softly, lazily kissing him back. âi could say the same about you.â
dean smirked, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. he didnât move from his spot, content to just be with you.
the afterglow was perfect. you were all tangled up in each other, his hand tracing lazy circles on your bare back, his lips brushing over your temple. It was so safe, something neither of you got enough of.
until it wasnât.
because suddenly, the motel door swung open.
and there stood sam.
holding a few cups of coffee.
looking like heâd just witnessed a crime scene.
you were both still tangled in the sheets, deanâs body half over yours, your legs intertwined. you were both spent, breathing heavily, the evidence of your time together all too clear on the both of you.
sam blinked. his hand faltered with the coffee cup as he took in the scene. his big brother and his best friend, completely out of it, looking like theyâd been worn out.
âoh, come onââ samâs voice cracked as his eyes widened in horror.
you barely had time to yank the blanket up to cover yourself before dean, completely unbothered, grinned up at his brother. âmorninâ, sammy.â
sam made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, immediately slapping a hand over his eyes. âi knew this would happen one day. i knew it, and yet somehow, i wasnât prepared.â
dean chuckled, stretching lazily beneath you like he hadnât just traumatized his little brother. âcâmon, man, weâre all adults here.â
sam was frozen. his face was a mix of disgust and sheer confusion. he slowly took a sip of his coffee, looking as if he was trying to will himself into believing this wasnât his reality. âi swear to god, i just wanted to bring coffee.â
dean stretched lazily, like he didnât have a care in the world. âwell, you couldâve knocked, sammy. instead, youâre ruining my post-coital glow.â
samâs jaw dropped, his eyes darting between you and dean. âpost-coital glow? what is wrong with you two?â
dean only shrugged, completely unbothered. ânah, youâre right. shouldâve just locked the door. but hey, itâs not my fault you barged in at the wrong time, man.â
sam groaned, turning on his heel so fast you thought he might trip over himself. âi live with you two. i share motel rooms with you two. i just wanted to be nice for once and bring coffee! thatâs it! thatâs all I wanted!â
dean smirked, amused by the whole situation. with a lazy grin, he looked over at sam like it was the most normal thing in the world. âappreciate it, sammy.â
âi hate you.â
you were dying at this point, burying your face in deanâs chest to muffle your laughter. Dean just wrapped his arms around you, clearly enjoying this way too much.
sam groaned again, scrubbing a hand down his face. âiâm leaving. i need bleach. for my eyes and my brain.â
as he stormed out, dean just called after him, âyou sure you donât wanna stick around? we could use a referee!â
the door slammed.
you swatted deanâs chest, still laughing. âyou love torturing him, donât you?â
dean just grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. âbest part of my day.â
you, still in a fit of giggles, buried your face in deanâs chest, not sure whether to be mortified or entertained.
deanâs hand stroked your back soothingly as you calmed down. âi think we ruined him. and Iâm here for it.â
you snorted, playfully shoving him. âyouâre terrible.â
dean smirked, clearly so pleased with himself. âyou love it. just wait âtil he gets over his trauma and weâre on the road. then weâll talk.â
and with that, dean kissed your forehead, settling back into the sheets with you, as if the world hadnât just gone off the rails for both of you.
but sam? well, sam was gonna need some serious therapy.
ê€ summary: after a hunt, you slip into deanâs flannel, but when he sees you in it, the heat between you two ignites, and it quickly turns into something much more tempting.
⯠warnings: mdni!! smut, explicit content, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, steamy chemistry, oral sex, (both receiving) unprotected fun, fingering, heavy praise kink, use of pet names, light breeding kink, dirty talk, safe word check-in, long ass descriptions, porn with some plot? pre-established relationship, flannel fueled chaos, too much heatâ someone call the fire department.
⯠notes: hiya lovelies!! okay so.. this one gets spicy real fast. gawd i feel so shy about posting smut bahaha. but i tried my best. i need some tips (pun intended) though! i adore reading ur comments guys, seriously. thank you so much for the support! <3
the night had been long, the hunt brutal, but now, back in the bunker, the weight of exhaustion had settled into your bones. but there was one thing that made everything a little better⊠deanâs flannel, slung over the back of the couch. you didnât think twice before pulling it on, the soft fabric engulfing you, his scent instantly wrapping around you.
you had a second of peace, just standing there, breathing him in, when you heard the unmistakable sound of deanâs boots behind you. you turned slowly to see him standing in the doorway, eyes dark, smirk curling on his lips.
âreally?âŠâ his voice was thick with amusement, but there was a layer of something else beneath it, something hungry. âstealing my clothes now, huh?â
you shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest, the oversized flannel making you feel like you were drowning in it, but it felt damn good. âwhat? itâs comfy,â you said, teasing him, but the heat in your gaze was unmistakable.
deanâs eyes scanned you slowly, taking in every inch of the way the flannel hung off your body. he stepped forward, the air between you crackling with tension. âcomfy?â he repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm, but his eyes were anything but joking. âyou look fucking irresistible in it.â
you bit your lip, feeling the heat rush through your veins at his words. you could feel the tension building between you two.
âyou gonna keep stealing my shirts now, sweetheart?â dean said, his voice rough, low, sending shivers down your spine as his hand reached out to trail down your arm. âor do i get to make you forget about it?â
you swallowed hard, looking up at him. âwhy would you want to? i can tell your cock definitely likes it.â
dean smirked, and before you could blink, he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you in so close that you could feel the heat of his body against yours. his lips were on yours before you could even react, hard and demanding. his hands slid under the flannel, grazing your skin, his fingers burning a trail up your sides.
you gasped into the kiss when his hands slid lower, cupping you through the fabric of your jeans, the heat between you two growing unbearable. his mouth moved to your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses as his hands began to work the buttons of your jeans.
âdean,â you moaned softly, your hands pulling at his shirt, desperate for more contact, for more of him.
âdonât say my name like that,â he muttered against your skin, his breath ragged. âyou want me to fuck you right here, in my clothes, hm, baby?â
you felt your body tremble at the thought. his filthy words, the way he was looking at you like he couldnât wait to strip everything away, made you ache.
âplease,â you whispered, fingers tugging at his belt.
dean growled, his hands gripping your hips as he lifted you effortlessly, pushing you up against the nearby wall, your legs wrapping around his waist. his mouth claimed yours again, with an unrelenting pace.
his eyes darkened, lips brushing against yours, "you're so fucking perfect. you know that?"
you shivered at his words, the combination of his raw dominant tone and the sweetness of his compliments sending a rush of heat through your body.
"de.." you murmured, hands slipping beneath his shirt to explore the muscles of his back, skin burning with every touch. "i need you so bad, please,"
your touch sent a jolt of desire coursing through his veins, his breathing growing heavy as he ground against you, the hard length of him pressing against your hip, the friction driving him wild.
"you feel that?" he asked, his voice rough, "that's what you do to me, sweetheart."
you gasped softly, feeling the evidence of his arousal straining against his jeans, your body responding involuntarily, arching against him in search of more of that delicious friction.
"bed?" you managed, the word barely a whisper. "need you in a bed, not against a wall.."
the corners of his lips curled into a smirk at your desperate plea. he wanted you too, craved you like the air he breathed, but he loved teasing you, pushing you to the brink before giving in.
"not yet," he murmured, his grip on you unrelenting. "we're not finished here."
he dipped his head, his mouth trailing a path down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin, his hands roaming over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
you writhed under his touch, your body alive with sensation, every nerve ending singing. "dean, please," you whimpered, fingers clutching at his shoulders.
he savored the sound of your breathy pleas, relishing in the way you came undone beneath his touch. "i know, baby.. love hearing you beg for me like that," he whispered against your skin, his voice roughened by arousal. âenough of that, though. get on your fuckinâ knees.â
your knees almost gave way at the command, a sharp gasp slipping through your lips. "deâ," you protested weakly, but there was no real resistance, just a trembling anticipation.
"do as I say," he insisted, his grip unyielding as he guided you to the floor, your knees hitting the carpet with a soft thud. he stood above you, his eyes burning with intensity as you knelt before him, your face level with the obvious bulge in his jeans.
"take my belt off," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
your hands trembled as you reached for his leather belt, your fingertips brushing against the cool metal of the buckle. it took you a few attempts to undo it, your fingers clumsy with desire.
once the belt was undone, he caught your wrist, his grip firm as he guided your hand to the zipper of his jeans. "keep going, sweetheart."
your heart was hammering in your chest as you unzipped his jeans, the sound of the zipper loud in the otherwise silent room, your fingertips brushing against the fabric of his boxers.
"now... pull them down, slowly." his words were a command, a challenge, but beneath the dominance, there was an underlying tenderness, a hint of vulnerability that only showed itself in moments like these.
you obeyed, your hands reaching for the waistband of his jeans, fingers trembling with anticipation as you shimmied them down his hips. the material was rough against your hands, and the sound of denim sliding over his muscular thighs sent a shiver down your spine.
he stepped out of his jeans, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxers, the fabric strained by his arousal. he looked down at you, his eyes roving over your body, taking in the way you knelt before him, sweet and submissive, ready to do whatever he asked.
he reached down, cupping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. his thumb traced your lower lip, his touch tender despite the commanding tone of his voice.
"you trust me, sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes searching yours, a hint of vulnerability in his expression.
"yes," you whispered, the word escaping your lips without hesitation. you did trust him, implicitly. he had seen you at your most vulnerable, your darkest moments, and he had never once taken advantage of it. instead, he had been your pillar of strength, your protector, your safe harbor in the storm.
his thumb continued tracing your lip, a gentle smile curving his mouth at your response. "good girl," he murmured, the praise sending a jolt of desire through you, his approval filling you with warmth. ânow, open that pretty lilâ mouth for me.â
your heart skipped a beat, the simple command igniting a fire within you. without hesitation, you parted your lips, your eyes locked on his as you waited for his next command.
his thumb slipped past your parted lips, tracing the outline of your tongue. âsuck it,â he demanded, his voice low and sensual.
you obeyed without hesitation, your tongue swirling around his thumb as you sucked it into your mouth. the action was both submissive and rebellious, your eyes defiant even as you yielded to his command.
dean groaned, his eyes darkening as he watched you. "that's it," he said, his thumb withdrawing from your mouth with a wet pop. "look so good on your knees for me, baby."
he threaded his fingers into your hair, his grip firm as he angled your head to look up at him. his eyes bore into yours, his expression a mix of tenderness and dominance.
"you know what I want, don't you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
you nodded, a wordless affirmation that you understood exactly what he was asking for. your lips were parted, your breath coming in heavy pants, your body already trembling in anticipation.
he ran his hand over your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the rough command. "go on then, touch me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
your hand trembled as you reached for him, your palm sliding over the rough cotton of his boxers, feeling the heat and hardness beneath. your touch was tentative at first, but as you heard him draw in a sharp breath, your confidence began to grow.
his hand tensed in your hair as your touch grew bolder, your fingers tracing the outline of his arousal through the fabric. "mmm... that's it," he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure, "just like that, sweetheart."
your hand cupped him more firmly, massaging him through the fabric until he was practically vibrating with need. "f-fuck... you're so good for me, aren't you darling?"
your response was a strangled moan, your body responding to his praise like a flame to gasoline. you were on fire, consumed by a desperate need for him, the ache between your thighs growing with every passing moment. "please," you gasped, looking up at him, your lips parted, your cheeks flushed. "dean, please... i need you."
his jaw clenched at the view of you. It was a sight that never failed to get him going, his control almost at its limit. "yeah? you need me that bad, huh?" he teased, his fingers tangling more tightly in your hair.
you nodded, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. "yes," you breathed, your hand still massaging him through the fabric. "so bad, dean. i need you. please."
the desperate plea in your tone and the way you were touching him pushed him to the edge. he was already struggling to hold back, and the sight of you on your knees, begging for him, was almost too much.
"then take what you want," he commanded, his voice a hoarse rasp, "cmon, angel.. you know what to do."
without hesitation, you reached for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down with a swift motion, freeing him from the last barrier of fabric. you swallowed hard as you took him in, your hand wrapping around him, the weight and heat of him feeling like the missing piece to a puzzle you hadn't known was incomplete.
he let out a guttural groan as you touched him, your grip firm and sure, almost worshipful. "fuck.. just like that, sweetheart," he gasped, his eyes closing for a fraction of second before refocusing on you, watching your every move. "you know how to drive me crazy.."
the praise from him sent a shiver down your spine, your body arching towards his, your hand moving in a steady rhythm. you loved the way you could make him lose control, the way he looked at you now, completely undone by your touch.
"yeah, just like that.. just keep touching me, babe," he whispered, his hand tightening in your hair again, guiding your mouth towards him. "i need you, sweetheart. I need-"
you didn't hesitate, your tongue darting out to taste him, the saltiness of his skin making your head spin. he groaned, his breath hitching as he watched you, his grip on your hair becoming almost painful. "you're perfect.. so damn perfect..," he murmured, his words interspersed with ragged breaths. "just like that.. don't stop, sweetheart.. please don't stop.."
you quickened your pace, your tongue swirling and tasting, desperate to drive him over the edge. you wanted to give him everything he needed, to show him just how much you wanted him.
"oh, I'm close... keep goin.." he gasped, his hips canting forward automatically, seeking more of the pleasure you were giving him. "just a little bit more, sweetheart.. you're so good.. so perfect.. I'm gonna-"
you knew he was close, you could feel it in the way his body tensed, the way his breath came in ragged gasps. you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his gaze, and that was it.
his release was sudden, his body shaking with the intensity of it, a hoarse cry passing his lips. he held on to you tightly, the grip on your hair probably painful, but you didn't care. you loved seeing him lose control, the way his face showed every emotion, the way he let himself be vulnerable around you.
he panted heavily, his chest rising and falling, his eyes dark and satisfied as he looked down at you. "goddamn, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice still thick with arousal. âthink you- fuck, think you might need a reward for that, huh?â
a mixture of pride and exhaustion filled you as he spoke. you were trembling, your body almost as spent as his from the intensity of your actions. but the thought of a reward made your eyes gleam. "a-a reward?.." you asked, the word almost a purr.
he chuckled, the sound deep and rough. "yeah, sweetheart, a reward," he confirmed, his hand moving from your hair to your face, his thumb tracing the lines of your face. "you did so good.. you deserve something special."
his touch was gentle, tender even, a stark contrast to the dominating way he had been moments ago. it always surprised you how he could switch between the two, one moment being demanding, the next tender. but that was just who he was. a man of contrasts.
dean helped you up, steadying you on your shaky legs before leading you over to the bed. he sat you down on the edge, pulling you onto your back, your legs in between him. he held you close, his arms wrapping around you with a possessiveness that was both comforting and arousing.
he kissed you, slow and deep, his tongue moving against yours, tasting and exploring. it was a gentle, almost loving kind of kiss, one that belied the intensity of the moment. he pulled away after a few seconds, his gaze roaming over your body hungrily.
"i could ravish you right now," he murmured, his hand roaming over your body, "but I don't want to rush this.. i want to take my time with you, baby. i want to make you feel as good as you made me feel."
your breath hitched at his words, anticipation building in your chest. you knew he meant every word, and the thought of what was to come made your body tingle. "i want that too," you whispered, your hands coming up to toy with his hair. "i want you, dean. all of youâŠ"
He smiled at your words, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. "and you'll have me, sweetheart," he promised, his tone confident. "every part of me.. yours to do with as you please."
he leaned down, pressing a trail of kisses down your neck, his stubble scraping against your skin. each touch was slow and deliberate, as if he was mapping out every inch of you. his hand slid up your side, his fingers playing lightly at the hem of your shirt before tugging it up, slowly baring more of your flesh to him.
he pulled the shirt over your head, tossing it aside before leaning back to look at you. he took his time, his eyes roaming over your body, drinking in every detail. "so damn gorgeous," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "i never get tired of looking at you."
his hands began to wander again, exploring territory that was both familiar and exciting. he traced your collarbone, his thumb gently brushing over the sensitive area, before moving down to your breasts. his touch was light, teasing, his eyes fixated on your face to gauge your reaction.
you gasped as his thumb brushed over your nipples, the fabric of your bra the only barrier between you. he smirked, noticing your reaction, and did it again, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through you. "mmm... so sensitive already." he murmured, his voice low and teasing. he let his fingers go down your back, undoing your bra with skill.
your breathing hitched, your body arching involuntarily under his touch. his words, combined with the sensations he was eliciting in you, were almost too much to handle. "dean.. please.." you gasped, your body craving more of his touch, more of him.
he smirked at your plea, his hand tracing down over your stomach, stopping just above the waistband of your shorts. "what do you want, darlinâ? use your words," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
you swallowed hard, your mind fuzzy with desire. "more.." you managed to gasp out, your hips lifting slightly in a desperate attempt to get more of the contact you craved. "please, more.. I need more.."
he chuckled at your desperate tone, amused and turned on by the effect he had on you. "such a needy little girl, aren't you?" he murmured, his fingers still teasing at the edge of your shorts. "i love how impatient you get for me, sweetheart.. it's almost endearing."
he leaned down again, his mouth finding a sensitive spot on your neck, his teeth nipping gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. his hand was more demanding now, his fingers slipping down the fabric of your shorts, now dancing along the edge of your underwear.
your body was on fire, your skin overly sensitive to every touch and kiss. you whimpered, your thighs clenching as his hand continued to tease you. "please.. I can't take much more of this," you gasped, your hands gripping at the sheets beneath you.
"you can take it," he murmured, his mouth trailing down to your chest, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. "i know you can, sweetheart. and don't worry, you'll get everything you want in just a minute.. if you behave."
you knew exactly what he meant by behaving. you'd be obeying him tonight, and he was reminding you of that fact. you shivered beneath him, the anticipation building. "i'll be good," you promised, your voice almost a whine. "i'll be so good for you, just.. please, dean."
his hand moved lower, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear, teasing the sensitive flesh there. "fuck," he murmured, his eyes glued to your face. "so wet for me. You got that wet just by sucking my cock?.."
you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, the sound almost embarrassing in its neediness. "yes," you admitted, "just from that. Just from you."
he groaned in approval, his fingers moving gently over you. "that's it, sweetheart," he murmured, "that's my good girl. you're just full of surprises, aren't you?"
you nodded, your body shaking as his touch became more demanding. "iâi just wanted to make you feel good," you managed to gasp out, your hips lifting slightly in time with his movements.
"oh, you did," he murmured, his voice rough with arousal. "you made me feel so good, sweetheart. but now it's my turn to return the favor..."
his mouth moved down your body, his teeth scraping against your skin, his tongue trailing a wet path towards your thighs. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, a smirk on his lips. "you want me to take care of you, sweetheart? want me to taste you like you tasted me?"
you nodded fervently, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts. "yes," you gasped, the word almost a sob. "please, please, i need you, dean."
he chuckled, the sound low and dark. "that's what I wanted to hear," he murmured, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open before him. "just relax, princess. i'm gonna make you feel so damn good."
his tongue was hot on you, his touch firm and sure. he tasted and teased, his mouth working you into a frenzy. it was almost overwhelming, the way he knew all your sensitive spots, god, he knew exactly how to touch you to drive you wild. you writhed beneath him, his finger curled up in you.
"so damn sensitive.." he murmured, his mouth moving against you, his words sending vibrations through your body. "you're so fucking reactive to everything i do to you, sweetness.. i could do this all night, i could do this until you're a shaking, sobbing mess beneath me.. begging me for more..."
you were close, your body tensing, the coil inside you ready to snap. "dean-pleaseâ" you gasped, your back arching off the bed, "i'mâoh God, i'm so close-just-just a little bit moreâ"
his tongue flicked over you, his pace picking up, his fingers digging into your thighs. "that's it, sweetheart," he murmured, "cum for me. i want to hear you say my name, i want to feel you let go for me.."
and with his last words, you shattered, crying out his name as pleasure crested over you. you shook, your body arching, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. the intensity of it was mind numbing, the sensation washing over you.
he didn't stop, his mouth working you through it, prolonging the sensation. you moaned, your body trembling, your senses overwhelmed. It was too much, yet somehow not enough. you clutched at him, your hands running through his hair, needing something to ground you.
finally, he pulled away, his mouth trailing kisses up your body as he moved back up to your face. He looked at you, his eyes dark, his expression satisfied. "you're incredible, baby," he murmured, kissing you deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth.
you tasted yourself on his lips, the realization making you shiver. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, your body still humming with aftershocks of pleasure. "that was.. that was amazing," you managed to gasp out, your voice hoarse from screaming his name.
he smirked at that, his ego clearly boosted by your words. "damn right, it was," he said, pride evident in his tone. he ran a hand through your hair, his touch surprisingly tender. "and we're far from done."
your eyes widened at his words. far from done? you weren't sure you would be able to handle much more, but the heat in his gaze told you that you didn't have a choice. you swallowed hard, your body already responding to his touch.
he chuckled at your expression, his hand rubbing small circles on your thigh. "you look like a deer caught in headlights, sweetheart," he teased, his smirk growing. "don't worry, i'll take care of you. i just need you to do one thing for me."
you nodded, your body already responding to his command. "anything," you replied breathless.
he leaned in, his mouth close to your ear, his tone dropping. "beg for me, doll. i want you to beg me to fuck you."
your cheeks flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. "please," you whispered, your eyes meeting his. "please, dean, i need you toâ" you stopped, the words almost stuck in your throat.
he chuckled, his hand moving lower, his touch teasing. "come on, sweetheart, you can do better than that," he encouraged, his eyes dark and demanding. "i know you want it. i know you want me. just let yourself say it. beg for it."
you felt a thrill run through you, the combination of his words and his touch pushing you over the edge. "please," you whispered, "please dean, please- i need you. i need you inside me. i need you to take me, to make me yours. please, please, please justâjustâ" you couldn't finish, your words strangled by your own need
his lips crushed yours, silencing your words with a bruising kiss. "that's what I wanted to hear, pretty girl," he murmured against your mouth, "fucking hell, you know how to get me worked up."
he pulled back, his eyes roaming over your body, his expression hungry. "now, let's see how much more you can take."
with that, he steadied himself against you, slowly teasing his hard arousal against your wetness. you gasped, the sudden movement catching you off guard.
"you good, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice low. "color check."
you took a deep breath, your mind still fuzzy with desire. "green," you managed to gasp, your body begging for more.
he smiled, satisfied with your answer. "good girl," he said, his hands gripping your thighs, he lifted your legs up over his shoulders. "just relax, angel. I'm gonna take good care of you."
he leaned down, his mouth finding a sensitive spot on your neck. as he sucked and nipped at the skin there, slowly, agonizingly slow he pushed into you. your head fell back against the bed, a low moan escaping your lips.
you could feel every inch, your body stretching and adjusting to him. he filled you completely, the friction sending sparks of pleasure down your spine. you gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. "dean, please..," you whimpered.
"please what, sweetheart?" He murmured against your skin, his voice hoarse with need. "you know you have to use your words."
"move," you gasped, your body shaking with need. "please, just.. just move. I need you to move."
he chuckled, the sound a mix of amusement and arousal. "bossy, are we?" he teased. but there was a hint of satisfaction in his tone. he pulled back slightly, before slowly pushing back in. "like this, baby?"
you gasped, your back arching against the sheets. "yes," you managed to gasp, "just like that, yes. please, more."
he set a steady rhythm, his movements deep and sure. he knew exactly how to touch you, where to touch you, which spots made you shudder, which made you moan. his hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. "so damn tight," he groaned, his breath ragged. "you feel so fuckinâ amazing.â
his words, combined with the sensations he was eliciting, were almost too much. you were quickly unraveling beneath him, your body aflame with pleasure. you pulled him closer, your hands tangling in his hair, needing something to ground you.
"look at you, sweetheart," he murmured, his mouth finding your ear. "you're so damn perfect like this. all needy and desperate for me."
his words sent a thrill down your spine, his tone filled with hunger. you could feel him everywhere, his body pressed against yours, his scent surrounding you. It was all too much and not enough. "don't stop," you gasped, "don't-ah- don't stop, please, f-faster."
he groaned at your words, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. he was losing control, his grip on you tightening. "you feel so damn good," he gasped, his forehead resting on your shoulder. "i'm not gonna last much longer angel, you're driving me insane."
you were close, the coils inside you about to snap. you needed more, you needed it to last just a bit longer, even though you didn't know if you could take it. but dean knew what you needed, he was always so in sync with your body.
"cum for me one more time sweetheart," he murmured in your ear, his voice rough and commanding. "i want to feel you come all over me. i want to hear you say my name. just let go for me, my beautiful girl."
and with his words, you were lost, your body seizing as pleasure washed over you again. you gasped, your hands clutching at him, his name a strangled cry.
dean felt you tighten around him, and it was too much, he bit down on your shoulder, his own release hitting him like a wave. he shuddered, his body tensing, his fingers digging into your flesh. "fuck," he groaned, his voice hoarse. "sweetheart, you're gonna make me cum again, âgonna cum all in you.â
it was then you felt it. he slowed, stilling, his body shaking slightly. he looked at you, his expression a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion. "that.. that wasâŠ" he trailed off, his voice slightly raspy.
the room is still thick with heat, your body boneless against the mattress, breath coming in slow, uneven pulls. the last echoes of your moans still hang in the air, mixing with deanâs heavy exhales as he finally collapses beside you.
for a moment, neither of you move. his arm is still hooked around your waist, his grip loose now, but his fingers are still there, brushing over your skin like heâs making sure youâre real. like heâs not ready to let you go yet.
then, in that low, raspy voice that makes your stomach flip, he murmurs, âyou good, babe?â
you make a sound, half a hum, half a sigh, and barely manage to nod. that seems to be enough for him. he chuckles, voice still rough around the edges, and leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple. âyeah, i gotcha. just breathe for me, baby.â
his hands move without thinking, smoothing over your back, tracing lazy circles into your skin, as if mapping out every place he touched, every mark he left. when his fingers ghost over a spot he mightâve grabbed too hard, he tuts under his breath. âshit, hope I didnât go too hard on you.â his lips follow where his hands were, warm and soft against your shoulder. âmight owe you a damn back rub after that one.â
eventually, he grumbles and pulls away, just for a second to grab the water bottle from the nightstand. he presses it into your hand, watching you with that lazy, smitten smile as you take a few slow sips. âthere we go,â he murmurs, brushing a few damp strands of hair from your face.
and then, without another word, he tugs you against his chest, settling you into the warmth of his body like you belong there. like he needs you there.
his breath is warm against your hair as he mumbles, half-asleep already, âmânot moving. youâre stuck with me, sweetheart.â