#dean winchester is saved | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kdogreads · 1 year

Text

Happy Birthday, Dean

Dean x Reader smut

Summary: It’s Dean’s birthday and you’re celebrating by doing his favorite things: drinking beer and having sex.

Warnings: 18+ only content, very little plot just smut lol, please let me know if anything needs added here

Word count: ~1300

A/N: I can’t promise I’ll keep posting content this frequently, but right now I am on a smutty roll lol. For now, please enjoy our birthday boy’s gift ;)

————————————

Dean never wanted to make a big deal about his birthday, but you just couldn’t resist. You surprised him with some beer and snacks, and a few small wrapped gifts. A Kit Kat bar, Slim Jim, thrifted silver candlestick (to melt down into bullets), and a 5-pound bag of salt. He said he didn’t want anything but giggled like a school boy the whole time.

Sam and Eileen left the bunker shortly after the festivities concluded, adding a few gifts of their own. They were smart enough to know you two wanted some alone time.

As soon as the door shut, Dean walked over to you, took your beer out of your hand to set it down, and planted a warm, hungry kiss on your lips. You smiled into his mouth.

“Happy birthday to you,” You began while you worked on the buttons of his shirt. Dean’s eager hands grabbing your hips.

“Happy birthday to you,” You slid his shirt down his shoulders while he slid his hands under your own and pulled it quickly over your head.

“Happy birthday dear Dean,” He made quick work of the clasp on your bra and discarded the thin garment to the floor, pushing you up against the large table in the library. His rough hands lifting you easily to sit on the cool, wooden surface, pausing only to squeeze your round ass.

His hands moved to your breasts while he exhaled a sharp breath, cupping them and kneading them in his large hands. You crashed your lips to his and tugged the waistband of his jeans.

Moving frantically and sloppily you undid the button and unzipped the fly, shoving his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion. Dean followed suit and undid your jeans in record speed, his lips never leaving yours, and lifted you slightly with one strong arm so you could slide your pants and panties off and onto the floor.

Your folds were already dripping in anticipation, wanting Dean inside you filling your walls with his rock-hard cock. No other man could make you so desperately horny and wet without even touching you. The looks he gave you and dirty thoughts he whispered into your ear throughout the whole party had you biting your lip to keep from crying out all night.

Dean grabbed your hips and pulled you to him, his hard cock rubbing against your already throbbing clit. His hot breath danced down your neck and you threw your head back in ecstasy as he nibbled on the soft spot just above your collarbone.

He lined himself up with your entrance, one hand guiding it into your core and the other tangled in your flowing y/h/c hair. Your hands grabbing at his shoulders and the short hairs at the base of his neck.

He slowly slid himself into you, filling your wet center with his large member. He moved so slowly your body started aching for more of him. You gasped and let out a low moan as his hips met the inside of your thighs. A deep groan escaped from Dean’s throat.

“Happy birthday to you,” You sighed out as he pulled himself almost all the way out, leaving only his throbbing tip inside. You met his emerald gaze and dropped a hand to brace yourself on the table.

“Happy birthday to me, indeed,” Dean hissed as he slammed back into you. You inhaled sharply as the force of his hardness made your warm walls shutter.

He began thrusting in and out of you strong and steady. His arm held onto your waist so he could keep pounding into you while the other yanked on your hair, tugging your head back with it.

He sucked and kissed your neck leaving little red marks and pulling rhythmic moans out of your throat.

Dean let you out of his strong grip and pushed your stomach back until your back was flush with the table. He threw your legs over his shoulders before looping his arms around them to grab on both hips with a strong, powerful grip.

This was your favorite way to take him and he knew it. The new position made him fill you in an almost unbearable way. With each thrust he slammed into your sweet spot making you see stars and feel your walls begin clenching around him.

Within seconds you felt the white hotness of the most intense orgasm take over your senses. Dean smiled a wicked smile and began circling your clit with his thumb, never breaking his demanding pace. You shook in his grasp and rode the waves of pleasure through each thrust before coming back down and gathering your senses again.

“Fuck, Dean,” You finally breathed out, “God you fuck me so good.”

Dean let out a primal grunt in response and grabbed your right leg, sliding it back down to rest on the table so he could have easier access to your clit.

He continued plowing roughly into you, smiling as he watched your face twitch in intense pleasure.

“Cum for me, daddy, please,” you begged, wanting to feel Dean’s warm liquid spill out inside of you.

“Fuck,” Dean grunted, “Gladly, baby. But not yet.”

You dropped your head to the table while Dean worked eagerly on your clit. He circled it with his fingers and moved you in all the right directions.

“Dean,” you moaned, “Dean please I can’t- I’m s-so close.” You had barely recovered from the first one before you felt your walls tighten again, another wave of pleasure coursing through your veins.

You let out a loud moan and yelled Dean’s name over and over until the spasms inside you finally slowed down. He fucked you through the waves and dragged your intense pleasure out as long as he could. You could barely tell which way was up by the time your fingers stopped clawing into Dean’s strong forearms, and you let out a raspy, “Fuck.”

“That’s my good girl,” Dean cooed into your ear, pulling you up from the table and holding you close to him, “Such a good girl cumming all over daddy’s dick.” Still thrusting himself into you, just slower and more methodically.

You tangled his hair in your hand and ran the other down his back, scratching him with your nails the whole way down.

“Please, daddy. Please cum inside me,” You breathed into his ear, “Fill me up, daddy, please.”

Dean’s pace wavered for the first time as you felt his muscles tense up. He growled into your neck and let out a string of curse words. He tightened his grip around your waist as you felt him spill out inside you, filling your walls with his sticky warmth. You gasped into his ear as the new sensation sent shivers up your spine.

“Fuck, y/n,” He hissed, “God I love your tight pussy, baby” He kept thrusting into you, slowly tapering his pace, trying to ride every wave of pleasure he could deep inside you.

You sighed as he slid himself out of your sore, throbbing folds. His eyes met yours and he pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss. He held you tight as if he wanted to savor every single moment his skin felt yours.

You smiled contently as Dean grabbed his discarded t-shirt to clean you both up and plant another warm kiss on your lips.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” You whispered into his mouth, a smile creeping onto your face

“God, I love birthdays,” Dean exhaled and smiled.

“But you’re supposed to let me take care of you on your birthday!” You responded in protest, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“We’ve got all night for that, baby,” Dean bit playfully at your neck and you let out a squeal in surrender.

Dean stepped back and extended his hand to help you off the table. It took a moment before you regained your balance.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you told Dean before turning in the direction of the bathroom. You kissed his lips one more time and squeezed his arm.

“I’ll meet you there, sweetheart,” Dean responded with a wink. You laughed lightly and headed on your way.

It was going to be a long night and you couldn’t wait.

Join my tag list! Thank you so much for the love ❤️ @this-is-me19

#supernatural #supernatural one shot #dean x you #dean smut #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester is saved #happy birthday dean winchester #dean #spn smut #dean x reader smut #smut #kdogreads

345 notes · View notes

minefield-of-a-ninja · 1 year

Text

28 DAYS: CHAPTER NINE

Summary: Dean Winchester is an addict and an alcoholic, a USMC veteran, a father, and an older brother. As Battalion Chief with Lawrence Fire & Medical, Dean comes under investigation when he makes a dangerous and impulsive decision, defying his superiors and abandoning the team he is supposed to lead. He is given a choice to go to rehab for 28 days or jail. His lawyer insists on rehab, and Dean begrudgingly abides.

Chapter warnings/tags: mentioning thoughts of self-destruction

Words in this chapter: 2,100

Author’s notes: you might recognize a few nuggets (per Stuie) from SPN here.

Many thanks to @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker for pre-reads and for being my friends.

text divider by @talesmaniac89

CHAPTER NINE

“My buddy, Cas, he’s... well, he used to be my buddy,” Dean pauses, squinting down at the smoldering butt between his thumb and fingers.

Meg remains silent next to him.

Dean assumes she knows as well as he does that he can’t predict whether his friends before rehab will still be his friends after. Not to mention friends like Castiel, the authority Dean defied when he took it upon himself to burn his life and career to the ground in that high school fire three weeks ago.

“Cas is a widower with a teenage daughter,” Dean continues, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“He’s a weird little guy.” He exhales smoke and chuckles, looking at Meg sideways. “You’d like him.”

Meg snorts, flicking her ash before taking a drag of her own.

“I, uhh... Cas was my boss. He’s the big chief.”

Meg quietly listens as smoke rolls from between her lips.

He and Meg are as close as he’s ever been with anyone. They share things, and he considers her to be a real friend. They’re all so fucked up, bleeding emotion right and left, that it’s taken no time to bond, even when they don’t know every central life point of each other. Until this moment, Dean didn’t realize that he had yet to tell Meg what landed his ass here in the first place.

He drags his gaze from her cherry lips and focuses on his shrinking cigarette.

“I fucked up.” Dean bobs his head, then takes the last drag from his smoke before tossing it toward the bucket of sand as he exhales. “I’m a firefighter — battalion chief, 15 years of service, saved lives and homes — but I fucked up that day.”

Dean thinks about the stories everyone has and that Jack is so enthusiastic about. He’s not been forced to tell his story, but he’s hungry for that last connection with his newfound family here. The desire to share swirls in his chest, threatening to pop out, sloppy and chaotic.

When he peeks at Meg, she’s listening closely without a hint of judgment.

Dean slowly and quietly tells her what happened that day. How he’d been at Gordon’s until the wee hours, drinking and fucking his way between a couple of women he barely knew. How he stumbled home less than two hours before getting called in on a conflagration.

“What’s a conflagration?” Meg asks, lighting two cigarettes at once before exhaling and handing one of the smokes to Dean.

“It’s a... thanks,” he pauses, accepting the cigarette from her and taking a drag. “A conflagration’s a big fire that’s on target to destroy a lot of property, land... take a lot of lives.”

Meg exhales and nods, squinting through the haze of smoke. “So you showed up drunk to a killer fire?”

Dean slowly blinks and nods. “BAC of .23 six hours after leaving my drug dealer’s house, yeah.”

Meg whistles.

“Waltzed into that job with a vial of coke in my pocket and more substances in my system than a raver on a Saturday night. And Cas, my boss and best friend... he told me to...” Dean pauses and draws a deep, clean breath. “He told me to stop — to stand down — and I ignored him.”

He takes a long pull from his smoke, recalling that morning, not wanting to leave anything out.

“Do you know why you ignored him?”

Dean looks at Meg. She looks like she knows the answer already, even though Dean didn’t even realize it until now.

“I was in self-destruct mode.”

Meg nods and huddles in closer, narrowing her gaze.

“Two years ago, I’d never be out ‘til three in the morning, never test those boundaries. But the farther I got from a real life, the less I cared about bein’ careful.”

His words hang in the air between them. He can almost see them mocking, shiny, and bubblegum pink like something out of an after-school special.

“Real life,” Meg hums. “What’s not real about your life right now?”

Dean shakes his head and takes the last drag from his cigarette. “I wanna settle down with someone. I want a house with a yard, not an apartment. I want Em... I want where I live to be her home.”

Meg nods, sitting back and finishing her own cigarette. “So now you know.”

Dean chuckles, tossing his butt toward the sand bucket.

The reason he brought Cas up, to begin with, was because he thought Cas and Meg would like each other. They have a similar sense of humor and have made Dean feel less awkward about different stages in his life with distinctive grace and compassion. He doesn't know if Cas will speak to him at this point, but he can’t keep himself from imagining two of his favorite people becoming favorites of each other.

Sam pulls out of the hug before Dean.

“Lydia said you looked good. She was right.” He nods, clapping a hand over his brother’s shoulder. “How’re your injuries healing?”

“Good.” Dean misses the embrace. He wishes he wasn’t so needy, but holding his baby brother has always been the best cure for his ills. “You sure I don’t look skinny? Lydia said I looked skinny.”

“No, man. You look great. It’s been a while.” Sam looks cagey as he glances around at the other patients and their guests.

Dean doubts Sam’s comment was meant as a kick to the gut, but it sure as fuck feels like one.

When Sam was a kid, he looked up to Dean. He used to tell Dean that he couldn’t wait to be big and strong like him. Now Sam looks at him with pity. Dean wonders if one day he might earn back even a fraction of Sam’s admiration.

“Want a cup of coffee or anything?” Dean tries to be hospitable, but rehab isn’t exactly the Ritz.

“No, thanks, I’m good.”

Dean also tries not to get pissy about Sam’s really fucking noticeable uneasiness.

“Let’s take a walk, Sammy.” He doesn’t wait for Sam to argue; he turns and heads toward the trailhead he walked with Meg and Pamela earlier that morning.

Thankfully, Sam follows without further ado. Once they’re on the trail and other voices are a distant hum, Sam relaxes, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief.

“So,” Sam starts. “You’ll be out of here in, what, a week?”

Dean chuckles, dropping his gaze to his booted feet on the packed trail. “Sammy, you and me both know that you know exactly when I’m gettin’ outta here. You’re the one who set this all up, remember?”

Sam bobs his head, matching his brother’s stride. “Just trying to start a conversation, Dean.”

His voice is quiet and contrite, and Dean feels like an ass for calling Sam on the bogus question.

“Sorry, man. I know this ain’t easy. But, yeah, eight days, actually.”

Sam nods, looking over at Dean. “How d’you... how are you feeling about it?”

Dean smiles up into the partly cloudy blue sky. “Scared.”

Sam slows to a stop, and Dean does the same.

“Do you need more time?” Sam asks, concern furrowing his brow.

Dean shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter, dude. Gotta take the training wheels off sooner or later.”

Sam nods thoughtfully. “Have you found a sponsor yet?”

“Not yet. Next week.”

Sam gazes off into the woods, stress rolling off him like a stench.

“Hey.” Dean reaches out and tugs the wrist cuff of Sam’s flannel shirt to get his attention.

“I hate that you’re scared, Dean.” Sam holds Dean’s gaze. “I’m glad you’re being honest, but I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

Dean nods, carefully choosing his next words.

“I’d rather be scared than what I was three weeks ago. Scared means careful. It means I got somethin’ to lose and to look forward to. It means I got my baby girl back, and this time I’m keepin’ her.”

Sam steps in and grabs Dean in another hug. This one lasts longer than the first, and Dean basks in it.

“My mom died in a house fire when I was four.”

These are the things that haunt him. He could be insolent and say they’re the reasons he drinks, but the truth is, they’re more than that.

“After the fire, Dad changed; he, uh... followed a downward spiral.” Dean shakes his head and chuckles. “He was angry, usually at me.”

Dean avoids using the words he and Billie discussed. He avoids saying that John was abusive because this is his story, not John’s. And he avoids looking anyone in particular directly in the eyes.

“Started workin’ at the family garage before I was in middle school. Child labor laws be damned, I guess.” He huffs another sardonic laugh.

In less than a month, Billie Pilgrim has given Dean the space and permission to believe he was hurt and abused and has suffered trauma. Stating the facts out loud in front of a live audience solidifies that belief.

“It felt good, though, ya know? Like I was doin’ somethin’ special. And I was a quick learner.”

Dean genuinely smiles, remembering how Bobby would brag to John about what Dean had learned that day.

“I was never great at school. Dropped out during the 8th grade, settled into the role of Mom and Dad to Sammy...”

He pauses for a deep breath.

“Sometimes I can’t believe how good he turned out.” Dean shakes his head and then continues. “When I was 17... I got caught with a couple high school girls doin’ what teenagers do when their parents aren’t home. Dad was... well, Dad about it. He shipped me off to Afghanistan.”

Dean briefly flicks his gaze up to Pamela, who nods, mouthing thank you.

“Later, Dad’d tell everyone it was my choice — to follow in the footsteps of my old man and become a Marine, but I was fuckin’ terrified, man.” He looks down at his hands in his lap. “I served two tours before Sammy graduated high school. He sent me a copy of an offer letter for a full ride to Stanford... I came right home — I knew Dad was gonna fuckin’ lose it.”

Dean clears his throat, shifting in his seat.

“We fought — Dad and me. I was just tryna run interference for Sam to get his shit and... it was bad. I said some things. John... my dad, he was so mad, like red-faced, veins bulgin’ out...”

Dean finally looks around the circle. Everyone is listening; even Crowley is engrossed.

“Turns out he was in the middle of a massive heart attack. Killed him on the spot. Not even CPR brought him back long enough for me to say I was sorry and g’bye.”

Dean stops talking. There’s more to his story, but that’s all he can do for the day.

“Thank you for sharing, Dean,” Cain speaks.

Dean nods, staring at his feet.

“Does anyone want to say anything to Dean?”

Jack immediately raises his hand.

“Yes, Jack,” Cain smiles.

“Dean, you should know that these are just things you’ve done and things that have happened to you, not who you are.”

Dean looks up at Jack and smiles.

“Yeah, I know. But the mark... it’s still there, ya know?”

Jack nods.

“What’s Billie always say? No one’s a monolith?” Meg asks.

Dean grins at her. That was one of the first deep lessons he learned from Billie.

He wasn’t exaggerating when he told Sam he was scared. Hell, he still hasn’t looked at his email, and he deleted his text logs with Gordon and others like him without even taking a peek.

But Dean’s armed with tools from Billie and Cain, and he has a community to rely on in a way he’s never felt he had before. There are things and people — feelings that he wants to experience differently, or maybe even for the first time.

Maybe he did have support before, and he was just too numb to feel it.

Regardless, this is a new day.

Dean’s 16 years old. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat of the Impala, and John’s sitting shotgun.

John’s teaching him to drive, to get his learner’s permit, and Dean is nervous and excited, hands gripping the wheel.

This isn’t a memory; it’s a dream. Dean knows this because, in reality, John taught Dean to drive when he was eight. He put a couch cushion on the front seat and tied blocks to Dean’s tennis shoes.

In the dream, Sam’s in the backseat, begging to take a turn.

Finally, they pull up to the house — the family house — and Dean parks in the driveway.

John looks over at his oldest child then and says, "Perfect landing, son."

Chapter 10

Please let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist

MJ’s Masterlist

#au dean winchester #dean winchester is saved

39 notes · View notes