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crushedbyhyperbole · 4 months

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Whiskey on the Tongue

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You are the forbidden fruit Dean had always wanted to taste, and when you steal his whiskey the way you do, he is powerless to resist.

Words: 2.2k

A/N: This is my first ever Supernatural fic after having started watching the show just before Christmas. I know I'm late to the game but is it ever really too late to start loving a fandom? I've tried to make the reader generic in every way other than being cis-female, and Dean finding her hot.

It's been an absolute age since I wrote anything and probably longer since I posted anything here on Tumblr but I'm getting back into it now. Hopefully this finds its way to people in the Supernatural fandom who love a bit of Dean smut.

I hope you enjoy and, as always, I value your comments and feedback.

Warnings: Smut, explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mentions of people who have passed away, profanity as standard with pretty much everything I write.

*** Minors do not read or interact - 18+ content ***

Dean let his head fall back against the headboard, clenching his fists to try to distract himself from the deep ache in his left leg. It had been falling asleep for well over an hour now, but he didn’t want to move and disturb you.

The door to his room in the bunker was closed. Locked, in fact, though he did not remember doing it. You didn’t comment or so much as move when Sam brayed on the door and tried the handle, calling out for Dean to return his book. The very book that was in your hands right now.

“I need that book back, Dean.” Sam grumbled.

“Not now, Sammy!” Dean called back, hoping his little brother would just go away.

“I’m researching Nephilim to help Cas with the Kelly situation, Dean. It’s important.” Sam became more insistent.

“I said NOT NOW, SAM!” Dean hollered with a kind of finality that even Sam wouldn’t argue with.

Outside the door, Sam huffed and stalked away. Dean looked down to see you looking up at him from your position, lay on his bed. Your head was resting on his left calf, his leg bent with his foot tucked under his right knee. You had your knees up with your foot tapping along to his banging playlist, your jeans tight around your thighs and with your head tilted back he could see all the way down the deep V of your t-shirt.

He was going to hell. Straight there. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. And he probably deserved it.

He snapped his eyes up towards the ceiling but it was too late, he could feel himself stirring uncomfortably in his jeans. If Bobby was alive he would have skinned him raw just for having you in his room. Bobby was always protective of you, his niece. You were only a couple of years younger than Sam but Bobby had made himself very clear that you were off limits.

“If you touch one single hair on her body, I’ll make you regret the day your balls dropped. Do you hear me, boy?”

Bobby Singer. That man did not mince his words. And to this day, Dean had taken that threat as gospel. Even now that Bobby was up there with the Angels, that son of a bitch would find a way to keep his word.

You shifted, causing a painful twang to shoot up his leg. The reflexive grunt he failed to stifle made you look back up at him, giving him that glorious view again.

Dean decided he could die like this. If having a dead leg was a legitimate threat to his life, he would go out happy with the view of your rack in that lacy black bra he could see within the V-shaped window of that too-tight t-shirt.

He raised his eyes, once again to heaven, asking Bobby to forgive him or give him strength or something because – god help him – he wanted to take you right then and there.

It wasn’t unusual for you to seek him out after a case when you didn’t want to be alone, but you didn’t want to talk. You would just sit while he drank, reading or working on spells. You said he quieted the noise in your head. Hell, he wasn’t going to argue, you were a sight for sore eyes every time he came home. You were wicked hot and sexy in a non-slutty way. Not that slutty was bad. Dean liked slutty. But that wasn’t you, you were different.

A drink. That’s what was missing. Dean needed a damn drink, especially if you were going to torture him by laying on him all evening.

He reached over to his bedside unit, for the bottle he kept in there for special occasions. A bottle of twenty-five-year-old Speyside single malt that he liberated from the British Men of Letters on his last interaction with Ketch.

The pour made you stir again but it wasn’t until he raised the cut crystal tumbler to his lips did you move. Your hand came up and claimed the glass from underneath, twisting it as you sat up so as not to spill any.

“Where’s yours?”

The cheeky glint in your eye had him pursing his lips in mild annoyance.

“Don’t pout.” You lifted the glass, turning it until the mark left by his lips touched yours and you sipped, looking him straight in the eye.

Dean’s jaw went slack. The glisten of the whiskey on your lips and the satisfied hum you made when you swallowed – he swallowed unconsciously when you did – made his mouth go dry. He had never seen you like this.

You moved to kneel on the bed and walked your way slowly closer, giving his leg a tap; an instruction to move it aside. He did, causing pins and needles to infest his nerves like ants swarming on a log to escape a flood.

Knelt between his spread legs, you brought the glass to your lips again, sipping at the amber liquid. You leaned in.

Dean watched you, breathing shallow, attention rapt. You hadn’t so much as touched him, yet every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire in the best possible way. The closer you got the shallower he breathed until he was almost holding his breath, looking down his nose at how close your lips were. His eyelashes looked to flutter against his cheeks just as yours did when you brushed your whiskey dappled lips against his.

He refused to lick where you had been. He couldn’t. As soon as he tasted, he would pounce, and…

“Don’t.” He croaked out when you moved to lay your lips on him once more.

You looked confused but at least you didn’t look hurt. He couldn’t bear it if you looked hurt because of him.

“Bobby…” Was all he could say through his constricting throat.

You smiled then, full of amusement, lips brushing against his, you whispered “he’ll understand.”

Dean tried not to respond to you but you coaxed his lips apart and teased your tongue to meet his, short circuiting his brain. The taste of the scotch and the sweetness of your mouth made him groan. He had fantasised about having you for years, but never did he think it would be you seducing him.

His hands on your hips guided you roughly to straddle him, the bulge in his jeans pushing up against you as you settled. He took the glass from your hands and downed the contents, his eyes on yours as he dropped the glass carelessly on the bedside unit.

Your lips met his again but this time you devoured each other, tongues stroking together, moans stifled by each other’s mouths. He trailed his hands up your body, dragging your t-shirt along with them. Finally, he could see what he had been having glimpses of this whole evening. Plush breasts cupped in scant lace that was completely impractical for a hunt, Dean realised, like you had meant to come here like this. You had intended this from the beginning.

He tore at the lace, dragging it under your breasts to free them, shoulder straps slipped down. Pawing at them like he had never touched a tittie before, all he wanted to do was suck and nip and nibble.

Your breathy sigh was divine, and the moan that followed was filthy. You cupped the back of his head as he took your nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, pressing him further, asking for more.

While he worked on your breasts you undid his belt and fly, reaching into the front of his shorts to release him from the awkward angle at which he was trapped. You stroked him, firm but slow, feeling him for the first time. You had always wondered what he had going on down there that every woman he had ever been with would come back for more at the drop of a hat. You weren’t disappointed.

Dean lifted his hips, you thought to allow you to push his jeans down but instead he flipped you, making you squeal. Once under him, he ravished your breasts anew, pinching one nipple hard while licking and sucking the other. Soon you were a mewling mess, hips writhing, begging for something he hadn’t given you yet. Excited that he had taken control away from you, you watched him sit up and yank your jeans down, lifting your legs until they were bare. Your knickers followed and he spread your legs without preamble, lowering himself between your thighs until his hair and eyes were all you could see above your mound.

“Jesus Christ of Nazareth!”

You groaned as he suckled against your sensitive spot. Fuck, he was good with his tongue. Everything about him was good except his image. Bad boy Dean Winchester. He was every woman’s wet dream. He had been your wet dream since you were seventeen. But now you were plenty old enough and finally getting what you wanted.

Bobby had told you to stay away from him when you were a kid. Dean had a reputation as a ladies man even then, but he respected your uncle Bobby enough to keep his distance… until now.

Dean dipped two fingers inside, creating pressure in exactly the right spot. You gasped and gripped his hair as your pleasure began to crest, tugging on it for dear life. He looked up at you then, to see your eyes closed against the intensity of it, neck and face flushed red with your oncoming orgasm. When it came, the pulsing of your core was his sign to slow down. He left off his suckling and stroked you through the pleasure, watching you all the while. You were a beautiful mess.

“That’s my girl.” He praised you in that deep rough tone you adored, helping prolong your climax until you took his hand away yourself. “Are you ready for me?”

You nodded, allowing him to lift your knees up and stroke the weeping tip of his cock over your swollen clit.

From the front pocket of the jeans he still wore, he pulled a foil packet with Trojan embossed on it. He was swift with its application, aiming his tip just so.

When he slid home, your eyes rolled back and you reached to grip his forearms. It was something Dean would never get tired of seeing but it felt that much different with you. You were the forbidden thing he had always wanted but could never have. Even now he didn’t know whether he would come to regret this. God, he hoped not.

Balls deep in you, he leaned forward to kiss you, wrapping your legs around his hips. His instinct was to fold you in half and pound the living shit out of you, but you were already overwhelmed and he wanted to make this soft for you.

“Tell me what you need.” He spoke softly as he nuzzled your neck.

“Just you, like this.” You sighed. Who knew Dean Winchester was a considerate lover.

His slow, measured thrusts brought you closer to the edge, your core fluttering each time, he could feel it. It surprised him how quickly is climax built at this pace, but the added connection you both shared seemed to turn him on. He would never give up Busty Asian Babe porn but he could get used to this with you.

You didn’t close your eyes against the pleasure this time, you watched him come undone above you, gasping as his orgasm made his legs and arms shake, muscles clenched tight to keep his weight from collapsing on you. When he swelled you dug your fingers into his hips to pull him deeper with each stroke, and when he spilled you also came, eyes fluttering shut finally.

Dean knelt up, slipping the rubber off as soon as he was clear of you and, tying a knot in the end, tossed it in the direction of the trash can.

“Shot.” You said with a smile as the sticky bundle went straight in the can.

He quirked and eyebrow and give you a slightly smug lopsided smirk that said: What can I say? I don’t miss.

When you moved to sit, he stopped you.

“Here, lemme get that.”

“Thanks.”

He stripped his t-shirt off and used it to clean up the wetness between your legs. Though none of it was his, it would still dribble when you moved. Afterwards he tucked it under your ass and flopped down on the bed at your side, moving his arm behind your head so you could rest it on his chest. You were both content. Both had goofy grins on your faces. Both disbelieving that you had finally gotten what you wanted.

A loud knock at the door started you.

“Are you done?” Sam said. “I need that book.”

“NO!” You and Dean shouted back in unison, laughing afterwards.

“Bobby’s gonna kill you.” Sam called back through the door.

“I KNOW!” Dean yelled gruffly, pulling you closer.

There might be a time in the future where the ghost of Bobby Singer came to make him regret the day his balls dropped and, if it happened, Dean would be happy to see him again. In the meantime, you and he could work on a whole bunch of reasons to make the cranky old bastard come down from up high for a visit.

Dean pulled the sheets over both of your heads, nibbling at your neck until you moaned his name. Aside from the roar of Baby’s engine, he had found his new favourite sound.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #dean winchester fic #cloudy's writing #my first spn fic

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clairenatural · 7 months

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okay but you see sam has ALSO fallen for dean's act. sam also believes dean to be the macho, daddy's soldier, beer boobs cars guy he presents himself as. this is why sam makes fun of dean whenever he even lightly steps out of that mold and thinks it's harmless banter instead of attacking an insecurity. it's why he laughs when john talks down to dean in the early seasons and it's why he seems surprised when dean is more comfortable with himself in the later seasons. it's why he just scoffs but doesn't push it when dean puts up a front and refuses to talk about his emotions and just accepts whatever excuse he makes at face value. it's why he offers dean a strip club to make him feel better when cas dies. and this isn't his fault!! dean has spent a very long time perfecting this image in front of everyone and ESPECIALLY to sam because along with it comes safety and security and stability and the only person. who has consistently been able to see through it. is castiel

#charlie also a bit bc dean doesn't have to be desirable to her as a man or as a son #altho i would argue that she doesn't see through him he just doesn't perform as much for her. cas actively sees through it #this is why sam has never caught on to dean being queer also. btw. dean isn't closeted he's just never made a big deal of telling sam #you never really know your parents just the version of them they want you to see etc etc #anyway this is also why sam is thought to be More Sensitive in comparison #by people who have also fallen for the Act. i call this the General Audience Dean Act #because it was who he was SUPPOSED to be from kripke's pen until jensen went ummmmm no. he has trauma :) and forcibly gave him layers #this is also not samcrit btw i always need to clarify that #i am bad at sam studies but i think you could also write posts (and ppl have) about how dean doesn't truly know sam either #bc he has Little Baby Brother zoned him forever even though he is almost 40 by the end of s15

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caught-a-dragonfly · 11 months

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Red Alert

#when you can't write fic so you have to draw it ✌#dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #mary winchester #claire novak #spn art #spn fanart #this triptych absolutely took over my life 🥴#i hope it's legible #this is my first time really diving into red light like this #(and it does funny things to the eyes lol)#anyway enjoy this ensemblenatural piece <3

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sailorsally · 8 months

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What if one evening Dean found 'queering the map' while getting drunk to numb his pain of missing Cas and read some of the stories on there and then the next time missing Cas got unbearable he went back and one by one started adding his own lil snippets to the map, as if he was talking to Cas.

📍"This is the barn where we met for the first time (on this plane anyways). I stabbed you. You smiled at me. I knew nothing back then"

📍"I took you to this Den of Equity. In reality it was an excuse to spend the last night on earth with you."

📍"This is where I came up from purgatory, without you. Did you know I kept seeing you everywhere? Did you know I was thinking about coming back to find you?"

📍"We had some mean burgers here. Or rather I did. You ordered your usual - coffee, not to seem too suspicious. I don't know if you realized but you drank a sip or two that time. Little human things. It made me smile into my own cup. It made me hopeful"

📍"Once again you touched me to heal me and I thought to myself I could take any pain, even hell, if it meant I could feel your tender touch again"

📍"I buried your ashes here. There was a brook with a windmill nearby, a field full of forget-me-nots. As if I could ever forget you"

📍"There is a haunted house here. Or rather was (me and Sam took care of that) I killed myself here today. Briefly. But maybe I wanted it to stick this time."

📍"This phone booth is my favourite place in the whole wide world now. I still see you in its faint glow. So real, so solid, alive."

📍"You died here. After you told me I was the one thing you wanted and couldn't have. But you had me, sweetheart, you did, you do."

📍"Tomorrow we'll open a portal here. All the ingredients are gathered. The spells are ready. Tomorrow I'll get to kiss you for the first time."

#Actually I made myself cry while writing this post #spn #spn hcs #supernatural #queering the map #to write #dean winchester #destiel #castiel

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nyxiswrites1200 · 6 months

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🩵𝑺𝒂𝒎'𝒔 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍🩵

Sam Winchester x Fem!reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, Crushing, friends to lovers, pet names, Sexual tension, Mellow sexual thoughts, Size kink, p in v, nipple play, multiple rounds, oral sex, praise kink, aftercare

Mentions: She/her reader pronouns, Reader wears a skirt, Reader is implied to be shorter than Sam, Imagining early seasons Sam, Dean is present

"In a world of boys, he's a gentleman"

AN: uhh I know I died for like a month but supernatural brain rot is incoming. Sam girl for life <3 anyhow, happy holidays loves. This is so self-indulging, sorry babes.

----

Sam Winchester is an awkward man. He's so respectful he doesn't know what to do with himself sometimes. But don't mistake his sweet attitude for a lack of attraction.

When you bend over to pick his book up off the floor for him, he notices your skirt sliding up your thighs. He quickly looks away as he runs a hand through the back of his messy brown hair.

Sam always opens the door of the Impala for you when you join him and Dean on road trips. He notices the way you let your hand brush over his arm as you help yourself into the car. Dean just lets out a small laugh as he climbs into the driver's seat.

Sam watches you saunter around the motel room in his shirt. Under the claim that 'it's just more comfortable'. He loves the way your figure is swallowed up by his larger clothes.

Sometimes it was almost degrading how respectful he was. In truth, you were trying to get his attention. To catch him peaking under your skirt, getting hard from seeing you in his shirt, or him finally being pushed over the edge by your 'discreet' affectionate touches. You swore you were gonna have to climb in his lap and say "fuck me" for him to actually do it.

In truth, Sam wasn't oblivious to what you wanted. Rather he was too kind to give it to you. He thought you were so precious that he needed to deny you. Sleeping with you would be too personal, too intimate and he wouldn't be able to let go of you after.

Dean let out a small laugh, Sam and him were alone in the hotel room while you went to go get dinner for the three. "What, Dean?" Sam asked in his partially sassy attitude as he read through his book. "Nothing nothing...it's just funny watching her pawn for you. Think you might be hurtin' her feelings." Dean smirked as he looked over at his little brother. Sam sighed in response, knowing he could only be talking about you. "I'm not that stupid, I know what she wants...I just..." he ran a hand through his hair "I don't think I should". "Sammy" Dean inquires "Look, she knows what we do. She hasn't gone running yet and she's perfectly human, there's nothing dangerous about that girl" he chuckles. "I know you're afraid because of what happened but...I think this might be something worth risking".

Sam let Dean's words simmer in his thoughts all night. For once he might actually agree with his older brother.

The next night you and Sam were alone. You finally spilled, being brutally honest. Sam watched with a bit of shock as you admitted how you'd be pawning for him. All your actions had a purpose and how bad you wanted to be his girlfriend. You almost wanted to cry with how emotionally overwhelmed this made you trying to explain yourself.

"Lovely, I'm sorry..." Sam stands as he cups your cheek and tilts your head up to meet his gaze. "I know you want me but I was being selfish because I know if I...indulge myself in you, I won't be able to let you go ever again." he explained, his voice was so gentle and his eyes reminded you of a puppy with the way he looked at you. "Maybe...I'm a little selfish too" you chime in "I just...I wanna be yours so bad that I don't really care what happens".

Those words alone tumbled the tension between both of you over the edge. Sam's kisses were soft then heated and needy. He had you pushed against the motel wall while both of you discarded your clothes. His larger figure covered you as he kissed you desperately. His hands engulfed your hips as he gripped them.

Once you two were on the bed, his hands fondled your breasts, teasing your nipples between his fingers. His chest pressed into your back as he kissed along your neck. You reached back to tangle a hand into his hair.

Sam was so sweet but he was a fucking god in bed. He knew exactly where to kiss, fondle, and tease. Nothing but deeply slurred words of "How does that feel?", "You okay?", "Taking me so well, lovely", and "Good girl...". You went three rounds with him...

He rubbed your clit and toyed with your nipples, leaving kisses and sucking up your neck. You came on his fingers, feeling him stretch you open. You wanted to watch his strong hands fuck into you so bad.

He nestled himself between your thighs. His tongue lapping up your first orgasm. You watched as you tugged on his hair, noticing the dominant look in his eyes. His hands gripping your thighs to keep them spread as you squirmed beneath him. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked on it until he fucked his tongue inside you while you came again.

Then finally he fills you with his cock, only after making sure you were okay. He had you stuffed to the brim, grunts and moans leaving him with each thrust. He pressed his forehead against yours as he kissed your cervix with the tip of his dick.

When you came for a third time, he let you ride your high until he pulled out and finished on your stomach. A gentleman as always, not stuffing you with his cum on the first night. Even if you wouldn't have minded.

Sam carefully cleaned you up in the bath. Warm water envelops you both. He placed a soft kiss on your shoulder and gently rubbed your side as he cleaned you up. His actions are no longer lustful, this was just affectionate. "Did you enjoy yourself? Wasn't too much?" he asked softly, his expression back to looking like a puppy. "I'm fine, Sammy. It was perfect..." You smiled and kissed him softly.

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destiel-wings · 7 months

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does anyone know a fic like this???

#destiel fic #fic recs #casifer #fic recommendation #destiel #fic ideas #if not someone should write it #pls #deancas #dean x castiel

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nottsbabydoll · 16 days

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— ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ caught in the act ◞ dean winchester !

◟ ☆ ݁ ⋆ ꒱ dean covering you with his leather jacket whenever sam accidentally catches y’all in the front seat of the impala.￨female reader x dean winchester . mild language, smut smut smut, unprotected sex, creampie, riding, public sex?? kinda (you’re in a car but still) !

authors note, thought of this today and i needed to write something for it ugh

taglist, @heartsforvin @priestsgf @cosmicanakin @1-800-whitemanswhore @summerbells (lmk if you wanna be added!)

you’ve been waiting all week long to get some alone time with dean, you’ve held out urges and been on a good enough behavior, but between this case taking so long to finish along with sam bursting through yours and dean’s motel room unannounced you’ve been slowly loosing your mind,

the ache between your thighs only seemed to grow and grow the more time you’ve spent around him, and dean didn’t help that either, with his smug smirks and lingering touches, all of it combined caused you to develop somewhat of a raging attitude towards both winchester brothers,

poor sam did try to talk to you, but you blew him off pretty harshly, which in all fairness to him, he didn’t understand why you were so on edge, but nonetheless he pretty much chalked it up to it being that time of the month for you and didn’t bother mentioning it further,

meanwhile dean on the other hand was revealing in the torture, he loved watching the way your eyes would trail down his body whenever he was cleaning his weapons, or the way your thighs would clench whenever his hands would grip the steering wheel of his impala, he especially loved the subtle moans and whimpers you’d let out whenever his hand got dangerously close to your sopping cunt

and although he didn’t seem like it, dean was slowly going crazy as he hadn’t touched you in nearly a week. see from the moment you and dean had met, you’ve been each others release, first starting off as friends with benefits before slowly developing into a romantic relationship, but regardless of the title, the point is that ever since you’ve met, you’ve never spent more than a couple days without touching one another, so this week had been more than harsh on the both of you.

you’ve tried getting yourself off in the shower or whenever you were left alone in the hotel room for whatever reason, but you couldn’t seem to get close enough to the edge, and the suspense of your ongoing stop and go for your release was evidently tearing you apart, so the moment that the three of you had stopped in the middle of the night at a diner - you decided that right now you were going to do what you’ve been looking forward to all week long

as dean pulls up the gravel driveway on the dingy 24 hour diner, he sighs shoving the gear shift to park, sam shifts from his place in the backseat, rubbing his eyes and letting out a tired yawn as he sits up

“where are we?” he mumbles, dean places his arm over the seat and turns to speak but you quickly cut him off

“outside of utah.” although you tried to hide the annoyed and frustrated tone, it slipped through nonetheless, and sam’s eyes widened slightly and he raised his hands up in defense,

“jeez, sorry.” he huffs, “i have to pee,” he says, his voice now softer than before, as he tried not to further annoy you

letting out a heavy sigh you open your door and step out, the sway of your hips as you turn and bend down to shove your seat forward to give him room to get out makes dean bring his hand over his jeans, cupping his cock through the materiel as to adjust himself, meanwhile sam wastes absolutely no time in hopping out and quickly making his way towards the building

as soon as sam’s out of your way you shove the seat back in his original place and hop in with a huff, closing the door behind you. once you’re back in the car you lean back against the seat and bring your hand to run through your hair as you sigh,

“damn baby, did you really have to be so short with sammy?” he asked, his usual smirk playing on the corner of his perfectly plump lips as he spoke

you shrugged, “he’s just been bugging me.”

“he’s been asleep this whole time.” dean laughed, and you threw your hands up, “okay, whatever!”

“you acting this way because you’re horny?” his words caught you off guard, definitely.

and as you turn to look at him, ready to tear him a new one for tasting you, your eyes softened as you take in his features, he looked so beautiful right here, his green eyes now dark and heavily clouded with lust, his freckles on full display as the rusty old street light shined down through his window and onto his face, and his lips, oh god his lips, so plump and soft looking, and before you could stop yourself you’re leaning over and pressing your lips to his harshly

dean’s initially caught off guard but manages to get situated pretty quickly, his hands moving to your waist and pulling you over and placing you on his lap, while yours glide up the sides of his face to his hair, your fingers tangling with the blonde roots, tugging and pulling on it softly

he felt so good, tasted so good, everything about him was intoxicating to you, he was like a drug and you were the addict, and you’ve been going through withdrawals all week

totally forgetting where you were for a second you pull back and cross your arms, fingers grasping onto the hems of your shirt, lifting it halfway before dean stopped you

“baby, we’re in public.” he breathes, his lips now covered in your smeared lipstick, and you just shrug, leaning forward some and placing your hand on his cheek

“i don’t care, i need you.” you whisper, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his neck, right below his ear, “please.” dean chuckled lowly, “alright, but we’ve gotta be quick,”

“sammy’s gonna be back any-” before he could finish his sentence your lips were back on his, this kiss was different from the previous one you’ve just shared, this one was sloppy, needy and desperate, you’re pouring your all into this kiss, every faded orgasm, every frustrating cockblock from sam, every single emotion you’ve been feeling.

dean lifts his hips softly, causing his growing hard on to brush against your aching clit, the action causing you to whimper softly against his lips.

dean pulls back, “sensitive?”

“shut up and fuck me already.” you whine, wiggling your hips against his softly, dean chuckled, his hands moving to undo the buttons on your blouse, while yours are working to undo the buckle on his belt and zipper on his dark wash jeans

once all the buttons are undone dean wastes no time in tearing the two pieces of fabric apart from each other and shoving them down your arms, tossing the thin fabric to the floorboard, his smirk falters for a moment as he realizes your lack of bra, with his belt now unbuckled and his zipper now pulled down you look up, a smirk of your own finding it’s way on your glossy lips, “like it?”

“like it?, i love it.” he mumbles, reaching his hands up to grab a fistful of the flesh, kneeling it in his warm hands whilst leaning forward, and burying his face in your cleavage, his lips circling around one of your nipples while his thumb rubs the other,

“fuck, let me ride you,” you begged, dean looked up, your boob falling from his lips in a ‘pop’ sound

“yeah?” he quirked, “yeah.”

dean leant back, bringing his hand to his mouth, he spit a glob of spit onto his finger tips and lowered them down to his throbbing cock, spreading it around, lubricting it for you

you place your hand on his shoulder and use the other to slide your panties to the side, dean brings his cock up and slaps it on your clit a few times causing your breath to hitch

using his shoulder as leverage you lean up and place yourself directly over his cock, he brings his free hand to your waist as you slowly slide down on him

dean moans softly as his cock stretches you — “fuck,” he heaved, “almost forgot how tight this pussy was.”

throwing your head back you whine softly, slowly you begin to grind your hips against his, creating some sort of friction for the both of you as you try to get used to his size again

dean brings his hands to your hips, helping to guide you as you grind against him, his head falls back against the head rest while you lean forward with him, arms wrapped securely around his shoulders, “feels so good,” you whisper, fingers tugging softly on the ends of his hair

“bounce on me,” he breathes, and with that you’re sitting up, using his shoulders to steady yourself as you bring your feet to the leather seats, planting them down

“don’t let me fall,” you giggle, breathlessly, “never.” he quips

lifting your hips you slowly fall back on him, doing this a few more times until you’ve found a steady rhythm, “so good baby,” he praises, his hands on your hips, helping to guiding your movements

dean urges you to move faster, “atta girl, just like that.” he groans, his head moving to fall back but you’re quick to catch his cheek, guiding his lips to yours

“kiss me,” you moan, lips brushing against his

dean complies almost immediately — his lips pressing firmly against yours, mixed with teeth and tongue, neither of you cared if you seemed desperate, because well you were, having been touch starved of one another for a full week

you feel as his hands slide up your hips towards your tits, squeezing them roughly, while yours are tangled in his hair, tugging and pulling relentlessly

he pulls away, lowering his head to watch in awe as his cock glides in and out of you with ease, “doing so, mm—fuckin’ good for me, angel,”

“shit, you’re so deep.” you whine, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you used every bit of strength you had to lift your hips then slam them back down on him

dean must’ve noticed as you tiring out since your movements became sloppier, since he brings both hands to your waist to lift you and guide you back down

your eyes roll back as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, as this new angle of his has his tip hitting that soft spot deep inside of you,

you’re brought closer to your high as his swollen tip continues to hit your g-spot relentlessly, and you can’t help but hold onto him for dear life,

“fuck,” you whine, arms wrapping around his shoulder as you lean forward, burying your face in his neck, “gonna cum, oh, i’m gonna cum,”

“yea?” he presses, while you just nod, “cum on my cock,” he breathes, “atta girl, come on.” he encourages, his hand going to grip a fistful of your ass

your legs start to shake against him and you cry out as your orgasm hits you, “that’s it,” he coos, his hand coming to rub against your hair, helping to calm you as your body shook whilst still guiding your hips down onto his,

you’re aching between your thighs now but you’re still so desperate for him, his cock twitches inside of you, signaling that he’s close, “fill me up,” you breathe, “cum in me, baby.”

“please,” you whimper, and that was the end of it for him, he stops your movements all together, holding you down as white spurts of hot cum shoot up into you as he lowers his head back against the seat, letting out a raspy groan, “fuck,”

you’re both breathing heavily as you try to bring yourselves down from your highs, leaning up some you bring your hand to his face, lifting his chin and leaning forward, kissing him softly, “did so good for me,” he whispered, his words muffled by your swollen lips

“did so fuckin’ good.” he repeated, “mm, i love you.”

“i love-”

suddenly the passenger side door swings open, a screeching sound from you follows and suddenly dean’s snapped out of his post orgasm haze and leans forward, still buried inside of you and grabs the first thing he can find,

his hands grasp his brown leather jacket and he moves to wrap it around you, attempting to shield you from his younger brothers eyes, you flushed with embarrassment just bury your face in his shoulder

“close the door!”

within seconds the passenger door slams shut, the impact of the slam causing the whole car to shake, leaning up your eyes lock with his

“no way that just happened.” you breathed, an embarrassed smile creeping up your face as you stare back at dean

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cosmicanakin · 1 month

Text

⎯ ⊱ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒!

Part 1 of Satiated Desire.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

Pairing. Dean Winchester x Female Reader.

Outline. Where you accidentally give Dean a hard on during a hunt.

Warning(s). Sexual tension, Strong Language, Sex innuendos, & Implied Smut.

Word Count. 207

Authors Note. He's been running on my mind all day and I needed to let my thoughts run wild. So enjoy — you'll definitely thank me later! 😉

The hunt had taken an unexpected turn, leaving you and Dean pressed up against each other, your back flush against his chest. You shifted slightly, trying to get a better vantage point, when you felt Dean’s grip tighten on your hips, holding you in place.

“Dean, what—” you began to ask, but the words died on your lips as you felt something hard pressing against you from behind. Your eyes widened in realization, heat creeping up your face.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry," Dean murmured, his voice strained. “I-I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

You whisper to Dean in his ear, “We’ll deal with this after the hunt, okay?”

He nodded mutely, your heart racing, already imagining ways to help him with his...situation. A small smile played on your lips as he replied, “You’re the best, Y/N,” he murmurs, hearing the mix of relief and anticipation in his voice.

“Of course, Dean. I’ve got you.”

Dean let out a shaky breath, his grip on your hips tightening ever so slightly.

With that, the two of you turned your focus back to the hunt, both eagerly awaiting the chance to properly address the growing tension between you.

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sammygender · 27 days

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john, pacing around the motel room (wondering if sam is gay, and what this means for his Hunting Career): Do you and sam ever talk about girls?

15 y old dean (thinks john is homophobic) (thinks sam is gay): um. sometimes

john: i mean, you do think he Likes Girls, right?

dean: (red alert) (this is bad) (dad thinks sam is gay) (sam is gay) (this is bad) Of course... why would you even say that... he talks about girls all the time..... just because he does theatre?

john (did not know sam has signed up for theatre) (now thoroughly distracted): SAM DOES THEATRE?

dean (thinks dad is being homophobic): you know, there's really nothing that gay about theatre-

john (just wants sam to focus on hunting and prioritise their family for ONCE in his life, goddamnit) (has totally forgotten he was worrying about his gay son): he didn't tell me he'd started doing- theatre- what is he doing? doesn't he realise there are more important things at stake here? *starts muttering to self about RESPONSIBILITIES and REVENGE and other, non starting with R words*

dean (now thinks he's saved the day by diverting dad onto a different, more trodden path of anger-at-sam): yeah... youd have to ask sammy..... at least he's shut up about missing soccer practices for a bit, right?

john (now suddenly back on the gay sam? path) (genuinely just posing questions and has no ill will) : is it just me or do you think soccer's kind of a girly sport?

dean, sweating (dad is going to hate crime my gay little brother): Not Really

btw this whole time sam is like 11 years old and cares more about like. pokemon cards. than anything else

#im back on my 'everyone thinks sam is gay' bullshit #im gonna write a fic. just wait.#<- i wrote a fic linked in reblogs <3 #spn #supernatural #oliver talks #sam winchester #sam & john #dean & john #dean winchester #john winchester #precanon

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zepskies · 22 days

Text

Down to the Crust

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You’ve set out on a very specific mission for Dean. The problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.

Request: Since reading your imagine, "Dean Gives You an Impossible Choice," I have not been able to shake it, one point specifically. I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is learning to bake pies for Dean. She's best friends with the boys, but she and Dean have undisclosed feelings for each other…

AN: You guys know I love baking shenanigans lol. This one is set at a particular time during season 14…

Song Inspo: “Joy” by Blackstreet

Word Count: 2.6K

Tags/Warnings: Flangst, hurt/comfort, hint of spice~

No, no, no, no, NO!

You did your best to scoop out the salt you’d just poured into the flour.

You can’t really be this dumb, you berated yourself. How could you confuse one white powdery thing for another? Salt vs. sugar—it wasn’t that hard!

You shook your head in simmering frustration. You decided to just dump the whole contents of the bowl, salty flour and all, into the garbage. You’d have to start again…for the third time now.

Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. You could make cookies, brownies, even cupcakes (with homemade buttercream).

How hard could a pie really be?

Maybe it was the telltale tremble of nerves in your hands.

Maybe it was because you had an ulterior motive for doing this, besides your formerly pure love of baking.

Maybe because this promised dessert was for one pie-loving glutton who was set to come upstairs from the garage any minute. Or at least, whenever Dean’s stomach finally called him back to the kitchen.

Though recently, he hadn’t been all that hungry. He’d denied your friendly offer of a snack earlier (since when did he turn down taquitos?), and he’d barely touched the pizza you guys had for dinner yesterday. (One slice? The man could eat half a pizza in one sitting. To your knowledge, there wasn’t a pie he didn’t like.)

Dean hid it well, but he wasn’t on his game. You knew why, of course, but…

You sighed and measured out the last of your flour for a fresh try. If you messed this one up, you’d literally have to wash your hands of this mission. And yes, it had become mission fucking impossible, as far as you were concerned.

Once the flour was safely mixed with a cup of sugar, you cut up some chilled butter to create the pastry dough. You followed the instructions in the recipe even more carefully this time, from your open laptop on the kitchen counter. The keyboard was dusted with flour at this point, along with your hands and arms. You even felt it under your nails and in your hair, but you didn’t care.

You were going to make this damn pie if it killed you.

You’d even bought real cherries, not the canned filling. It meant more work for you in removing all the pits inside them, but this was worth the extra labor.

However, as it just occurred to you, you’d left them simmering with some sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch in a pan, around the time of your second attempt at pastry dough.

“No!” you gasped, hastening to open the lid and checking the saucepan.

Oh, thank God, you thought, seeing that the cherry filling wasn’t bubbling over. It actually looked like the proper thickened consistency and smelled delicious. You just needed to do some more stirring.

An hour or so later, you had successfully shaped the dough, chilled and poured in the filling, and covered it with the (embarrassingly uneven) lattice work on top.

“Whatever. The man still believes in the Five-Second Rule. He’ll eat this,” you muttered as you slid the pie in. You even remembered to do an egg wash on top. You admired it for a moment in its raw pastry form, then closed the lid to the oven with a nod of satisfaction.

You wore a wide smile, feeling accomplished, until you turned around and saw the disaster you’d made of the kitchen. Flour was dusted across the counters, a pile of dishes in the sink, cherry remnants in the pan and dripping across the stove, and so much more. You winced at the sight.

“What the hell is this?” came a gruff voice.

Your gaze drew to the doorway with a sharp intake of breath. Dean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a bewildered expression on his face.

The man had a thing about people in “his kitchen.” You got ready to placate him with your hands raised as you took a step towards him, but then you gasped.

“Shit!” you yelped, slipping in some egg that had dropped on the floor. Your hand accidentally banged the oven on the way down, but your head also hit the corner of the wall.

You ended up sprawled on your side across the dirty floor, dazed and winded. Dean hurried to your side with one of those frowns that always made you want to smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

He braced your shoulder, almost but not quite touching your hip with his free hand.

“Damn. You okay? This ain’t a slip n’ slide,” he said.

Your lips twitched at a smile, but you sighed. “I’m okay.”

“You hit your head?” he asked, beginning to help you up slowly.

“A little,” you admitted. “Nothing the old bag of frozen carrots in the freezer won’t cure.”

Dean grimaced, but after he made sure you were settled on your feet, he checked the back of your head. You tried not to blush (and revel) at the feeling of his fingers slipping into your hair, even if he was trying to feel for a knot back there.

He was close enough that you could almost feel his body heat through the black shirt he wore, for once without the outer layer of plaid. He smelled like grease and sweat; likely he’d been working on Baby.

Were you weird for kind of liking that smell?

“Well, I don’t feel any goose eggs, so you’re probably fine,” he remarked.

“Thanks, House. Is that your final prognosis?” you asked, beginning to smirk.

Dean’s gaze met yours in amusement.

“Tell you what,” he said, “If you get a headache, I give you full permission to take one of the fun little pills I’ve got in my dresser.”

You laughed. “If it’s not Vicodin, I don’t want it.”

House M.D. was one of those shows you and Dean liked to watch together, along with Game of Thrones, and even Smallville, on occasion.

Dean smiled slightly. But even that was a small feat, and something you hadn’t seen from him in weeks. Not a real smile, anyway. Before today, nothing you’d tried had been working to brighten his mood.

Not pizza Fridays. Not letting him listen to the same damn Zeppelin album without complaint for that eight-hour ride on the last hunt. Not trying to gouge his level of broodiness and offering to hang out, to be a listening ear if he needed it.

He still hadn’t taken you up on the last one. While that hurt, you also understood it. You understood how Dean dealt with things he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about, even to his own brother.

Dean now looked down on you knowingly, gesturing at the rest of the kitchen.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doing in here?” he asked.

You crossed your arms and raised your chin, a smile playing on your lips.

“What, can’t handle somebody else in your kitchen? What’re you, Gordon Ramsey?” you teased.

Dean’s brows kicked up, his lips twitching.

“You’ve made a mess of my kitchen any number of times, but I ain’t ever smelled sweet, sweet cherry coming out of that oven,” he said. “You’re finally making me pie?”

You had to laugh. Inside, you were pleased that he now looked excited, his green eyes dancing. You clapped your hands over his arms.

“Yes, I’m making you your damn pie. Only took me fifteen tries, but it’s happening,” you said. You turned to check on it, but the second you opened the oven, black smoke billowed out.

Your eyes widened in horror and your mouth fell open on reflex, but harsh coughs tore from your throat as you waved your hand against the smoke. Dean quickly handed you the oven mitts, and you shoved them on before taking out the steaming dessert.

The entire top crust was scorched black. Cherry filling oozed out, and not in a good way. You slammed the oven shut with your hip, and you had to toss the pan onto the counter for how hot it was.

Inside that pan was a dreadful excuse for a pie.

Dean had an arm crossed under his elbow, while a hand came up to cover his mouth as he took in the state of it. He then looked over at you.

He saw the shock, settling into pursed lips and tight shoulders. You turned in slow movements.

You saw that the oven had been switched to “Broil” on the highest setting. You’d probably messed that up when you fell and hit the dial with your hand. But Christ, was that a powerful oven.

Those old white guys really didn't mess around when they built this damn bunker, you thought sourly.

Dean took another look at the steaming pie and grimaced, despite his amusement.

“Well, she won’t be entering any beauty pageants, that’s for sure,” he teased.

His playful smirk fell, however, the moment you turned around. He saw the way you were biting your lip, and the tears brimming in your eyes.

He softened, and he went to you.

“Aww, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he chuckled, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “‘S probably better than I could do.”

You rested your head against his chest and sniffled. You blinked to try to stem off your tears.

“It’s not about the damn pie! I mean, not really. It’s just…” you trailed.

You quieted, realizing you were about to say things you’d rather not.

Dean noticed though. Because of course he did.

“Then what’s it about?” he asked.

You avoided his gaze at first, though he was too perceptive not to notice. He jostled you a little against his side.

“Huh? You wanna answer me?” he asked. His lips curved at the way you were fighting a smile yourself. Your tears won out though.

You turned under his arm and leaned up on your toes, so you could hug him. Your arms twined around his neck and you held him tight.

To say it surprised Dean would be an understatement, his eyes widening a fraction. He still held you back, almost on reflex.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” you said, through tears. “Not for you, or Sam…or for Mary.”

Dean’s confusion descended into grim understanding. A weight fell deep in his gut, clenching painfully the way it always did, when he thought about his mom.

The fact that Jack didn’t have his soul didn’t make a difference, no matter what Sam said. Not in Dean’s mind, anyway.

Jack had killed their mom.

She was gone, had been taken from them. And that second loss had torn a new chasm in Dean’s heart, deeper than the last one. He held you a bit tighter without realizing it.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing his back. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to…to do something for you.”

Slowly, Dean pulled away a little. His hands moved to your waist as he looked down on you with a heaviness in his eyes. For a moment, he just took in the contours of your face, your eyes shining with tears that clung to your lashes. You were looking up at him like all you wanted to do was fix it. And fix him.

Well, you had to know that was a lost fucking cause. But it just didn’t stop you from staying here with him and Sam, living with them, hunting with them, being one of the last friends they had, after all these years.

It didn’t stop Dean from loving you for it, either.

He let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but raise a hand to get some of the flour off your cheek. He smoothed the back of his hand against your skin, along your jaw, and finally brushed his thumb across your lower lip, where you had worried it with your teeth.

“You’re too damn much, you know that?” he murmured.

You were blushing hot at his touch, but you frowned at his words. Until you noticed the fond glint in his eyes…and for the first time, something more. Something he was finally allowing you to see.

When he bent down and claimed your lips, your thoughts stuttered to a halt. You gripped the front of his shirt instinctively. He framed your face with his hands; they were calloused and smelled like motor oil, but you didn’t give a shit. Not one iota. Because it meant something, and your heart swelled with a warmer, brighter feeling.

You gripped his shirt tighter and leaned up to meet his second kiss. His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You grabbed onto his shoulders and let him invade your mouth with his warm tongue slipping against yours. You moaned, the sound echoing between you both and shooting right to his dick.

His brows furrowing, Dean’s fingers slipped into your hair again, but this time, to tangle in the strands. He walked you back until your ass hit the counter, where he grabbed hold of your thighs and hefted you on top of it, regardless of whatever stains covered its surface.

He moved in between your jean-clad thighs and encouraged you wordlessly to wrap them around his hips. You didn’t need much encouragement.

“Dean,” you whispered, between heated kisses, hands wandering down your body, exploring soft curves and warmth over clothing.

“Hmm?” he said, into your mouth. It was distracting, but you found the strength to slow things down, gently taking his face into your hands.

You both caught your breath for a moment. It allowed Dean to see the thread of uncertainty in your gaze, even though you caressed his stubble-covered cheeks.

“I just…do you…is this…” you tried, but your brain seemed to be on a short fuse. You blamed his sinful lips entirely.

Said lips drew into a smirk. Dean’s hands moved up your thighs and held your waist less gripping, more comforting (and claiming).

“I really do, and damn straight it is,” he said, slightly teasing. He did lean back in to press a gentler kiss to your lips.

“Trust me,” he said, as he became more serious. “If you want more from this…”

At that, your uncertainty melted into warmth. You released his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

“Yeah, Dean,” you nodded. “More than anything, yes.”

He read your sincerity, and it warmed him too. Again, he gave into the urge to brush his thumb against your blushing cheek.

“I uh…I had a feeling it was always gonna be you,” he said.

You raised a brow at that, even though your smile threatened to unravel him further.

“Oh, yeah? How long?” you asked.

Dean pretended to think.

“Since that first batch of oatmeal cream pies,” he said, with a cheeky grin. “Pretty sure I was marked from there on out.”

And not just because he’d been imagining what you’d be like to taste, ever since.

You giggled, though you gestured with your eyes at the charred pan next to you on the counter.

“Guess I should try again on that pie. Wonder what that’ll get me,” you hedged, letting your thumb graze his neck. Dean smirked.

“All right, sure. Remind me to pick up a new fire extinguisher,” he said.

You guffawed and hit his shoulder, but he just laughed and pulled you in for another kiss.

It was sweet enough on its own.

AN: I know, I know. I'm a sap. 😂 Let me know what you thought of this pie-filled episode! 🥧 💕

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