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deanbrainrotwritings · 3 months

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— SWORDS, DRAGONS, AND DIET COKE

SUMMARY : Halloween dressed as the Scooby gang… her dressed as Daphne… things can only go right from there.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : castiel, charlie bradbury, joan carlisle (ofc)

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), oral sex, unprotected sex (barf), fingering, p in v, pussy spanking, violence, anger issues, implied trauma 👍🏻, ghost possession

WORD COUNT : 4.7k

A/N : the devil wears prada song title. also, how come women look hot when they cosplay male characters, but men don’t look hot when they cosplay female characters??? EXPLAIN! SOMEONE, PLEASE!!! Or change my mind ;) XXXXXX

“So we all agree that we look ridiculous?” Y/n asked with a smile as they stepped into the loud and crowded frat house.

“Cas and I, do,” Dean leaned down to say close to her ear. “You, Charlie, and Joan, don’t.” He circled his arm around her waist, fingers trailing across her jawline to turn her face towards his. He gave her a sweet kiss and moved her dyed hair over her shoulder.

She returned the kiss with a smile, turning her body to face him fully as he slid his hand down from the back of her shoulder to her ass. She wrapped her arms around his neck, opening her mouth to slip her tongue into his mouth. He squeezed the supple flesh of her ass and she moaned, threading her fingers through his soft hair.

“Alright, Fred and Daphne, we get it: you’re in love,” Joan giggled, taking Y/n’s waist to pull her away from Dean.

“That’s fine,” Dean shrugged playfully, letting his girlfriend go while he tugged at the ascot around his neck, “we’ve got a mystery to solve.” Charlie snorted and gave Dean a hard smack across his back that only made him pout.

“Well, technically, yes,” Joan laughed. “Listen, I don’t know if the ghost will come out tonight or not. But I’m glad you guys are here,” she smiled at the group and squeezed Y/n’s waist before letting her go. “Obviously, there’s been sightings in the basement, boring, but sometimes it’s appeared on the second floor, or the attic,” Joan explained, fixing her glasses on her nose.

“Woah, Miss Carlisle,” two guys passed by wolf-whistled and looked at Joan disrespectfully, eyes trailing over long orange socks against dark skin, a tiny pleated skirt, and a tight ribbed turtleneck—also in a shade of orange. They only glanced at her face to smirk smugly as if her deadpan expression meant they won.

“Douchebags,” Dean grunted, glaring at the arrogant boys.

“So, how should we split up?” Charlie grinned, trying to remove their focus from the immature men. They all looked back at her, became relaxed, then looked towards Dean and Y/n.

“Well, I could check out the second floor and Dean can check the attic,” she suggested, to which Dean chewed his lip and nodded in agreement.

“Naturally, Shaggy and Scoob stick together, so, uh, Charlie and Cas, you two take the basement,” Dean smiled boyishly at the two, and Cas rolled his eyes, sighing. Charlie laughed and punched Cas’ shoulder gently, causing Cas to smile slightly.

“Right, I’ll stay here, then,” Joan smiled, then gave her old friend, Y/n a slap on the ass. Y/n giggled, and rubbed the spot, hardly feeling a sting.

“We’ll meet here again after?” Cas asked, they all nodded in agreement, then both Charlie and Cas started making their way through the house to get downstairs. Cas tugged at the neck of the costume with a deep frown.

Dean reached out for Y/n’s elbow and slid his fingers down her arm to hold her hand. Joan stopped her, giving her a half-hug before Dean could drag her away to do their job. “Hey, let’s catch up later, you look so happy now, and also, your boyfriend’s hot,” Joan laughed softly, giving her friend a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“Sure, Jay, maybe once the case is done we can all hang out,” she smiled, hugging her friend back. “It’s sort of our thing to go to the local bars. That sound good?” Joan nodded, squealing excitedly, and stepped away.

Dean smiled at Joan then tugged Y/n towards him—her quiet laughter making him warm. She smiled up at him and let him place his arm over her shoulders to kiss the top of her head. Y/n circled his waist with her arm and clenched the side of his white long-sleeved shirt as they walked upstairs.

Students drank along the stairs, talking, and laughing with their friends. Properly having fun. There were two friends dressed as Arthur and Merlin, which was cute, and Dean started with interest at the sword sheathed into the leather belt around his hips.

“I’m kinda hungry, is that weird?” Dean pouted, releasing her so she could walk up the stairs without complications. Their fingertips still touched, their forefingers hooked together, and back he went to holding her once they got to the top of the stairs.

“Not really, it’s cute,” she smiled, then shivered, either a ghost or the wintry breeze that chilled houses. “Maybe we can find food or snacks here,” she suggested, pulling him close to absorb his heat before he left her to check out the attic.

“You should’ve brought a jacket,” he scolded gently, then playfully squeezed her breast. “I’ll try to keep you warm while you walk me to the attic,” he told her playfully. She smiled and rolled her eyes, then pushed him into the nearest wall. Dean smirked at her, and dropped his hand from her chest, but she grabbed both his wrists to place his hands over both breasts.

“A jacket will ruin my costume, I look great,” she argued jokingly, pressing herself against him. Dean lowered his hands a little, enough to cup the bottom over her breasts while he brushed his thumbs over her pebbled nipples. No bra beneath the soft, violet dress she wore.

“Yeah, you… look super hot as Daphne,” Dean breathed out, licking his bottom lip before biting it. “Fuck…” he muttered, his head thumping against the wall when he tipped it back, dropping his hands from her breast to hold her hips.

“Let’s get this case over with,” she smiled, pushing against his chest to step away. He whined, digging his fingers hard into her hips to bring her back in, and dropped a kiss to her glossed, pink lips—staining his own.

“Okay, I’ll, uh, leave now,” Dean smiled, and licked his mouth to taste her gloss. She laughed softly and shook her head, fixing the ascot around his neck by placing it back beneath the sky blue polo shirt. “Yummy lip stuff, by the way,” he teased, reaching down to tug her dress down as it crinkled slightly at her hips.

“Lip stuff,” she repeated with a cute cackle, appreciative of the way he distractedly fixed her dress. “I love you—a lot,” she sighed happily, patting his now-flushed cheeks.

“Me, uh,” Dean stuttered, “I love you, too. A lot,” he added, watching her smirk and slowly walk away from him. She waved at him and turned around to start knocking on doors.

“If you’re an FBI agent, how come you’re dressed like Daphne?” She pushed past the irritating guy dressed as Tarzan, ignoring him as she looked around the room that he shared with a friend. “And how come you’re not arresting us? We’re doing drugs and drinking, not all of us are twenty-one,” he told her.

She could feel him behind her, and she rolled her eyes, squatting down carefully to not reveal anything as she searched for anything suspicious, pulling out the EMF detector from her small purse.

“You’ve never heard of undercover then?” She asked sarcastically, getting up to search the rest of his room. According to him, it suddenly gets colder than usual, he hears weird sounds, he’s heard voices—the typical signs of a haunting. “And the focus on the case isn’t underage drinking or drug usage, it’s… there’s a killer,” she hesitated to share information, but he’s attached himself to her—well, much like this irritating ghost has attached itself to this frat house.

“Wow, that’s dope,” he burped drunkenly, which irritated her more.

“I don’t know if I'd call my friends dying dope, but, whatever,” she muttered, hiding the EMF detector as she turned towards the closet.

“You’re hot, smart, and badass, like actual Daphne. T-that’s why you’re dressed like her, right?” He asked, hiccuping before taking another—large—gulp of alcohol, straight from the bottle.

“You shouldn’t drink too much, it’s going to be awful in the morning,” she warned, avoiding his question as she went into the bathroom. She heard him follow, and sighed, putting the EMF detector away into her purse once more.

“Aw, so you do care about me,” he smiled lopsidedly, cheeks flushed with drunkenness. She smiled sarcastically, then glared at him. “I kinda like older women, ya know?” She blinked at him in bewilderment, watching him stumble towards her, but she backed up rather than helped out. “That’s why I let you in an-and said yes to… everything you asked me,” he grinned, setting the alcohol down on the counter, but it slipped and shattered on the floor. “Whoops.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and scoffed, her jaw clenching angrily. She stomped out while he became distracted by the loss of his spirits.

“Woah, hey,” he jogged towards her, taking her arm. She pulled away from him, anger burning bright in her chest. “We haven’t even-”

“Get lost, kid, I’m not interested,” she interrupted him.

“I’m not a kid, I’m turning twenty one this semester,” he told her smugly, reaching out to brush her hair much like Dean had earlier, except this time she didn’t like it. Immaturely, she pushed it forward again, and rolled her eyes. “Come on, Tarzan needs Jane,” he tried flirtatiously, but she turned around, and swung the door open, ready to leave.

“Well, good thing I’m Daphne and I’ve already got Fred,” she spat, leaving him in the room alone, “I’m gonna get to work now, kid.”

“All the pretty girls lie about having boyfriends,” he slurred, leaning against the doorway. She grimaced at his words, she didn’t think he could make her cringe more than she already was. Maybe someone could make her vomit without being physically nauseating? That would be impressive.

“Maybe take a hint and leave women alone,” she told him, but fished for her phone in her purse to call Dean. Still, Tarzan rolled his eyes at her, and boredly watched her put her phone to her ear. It rang halfway when Dean answered with a gruff, ‘sweetheart’ that made her insides warm and delighted. “Hi, babe, I’m upstairs and Tarzan here doesn’t know what ‘no’ means. Please, come save him, I love you.”

She didn’t hang up when she heard wood break, and Dean swore, “son of a bitch.” She was about to ask if he was okay, when Tarzan grabbed her waist and pulled her towards him, her palms landing on his sweaty, flushed, somewhat hairy chest.

“Gross, let me-”

“Uh, what?” Dean asked, then she heard his boots, and more thumping as she struggled to get out of Tarzan’s rough hold. “Babe, okay, I’ll be there, love you,” he said quickly, but he also didn’t hang up. She knew he probably had his phone pressed to his ear by his shoulder.

“Save me?” Tarzan laughed, spinning her so she’d enter his room once more. She got angrier the more he manhandled her.

“Yeah, you gonna back off? My boyfriend’s on his way, and you’re drunk, don’t do something stupid,” she tried to deescalate without violence.

“You were looking at me and you smiled,” he reasoned, lamley. She looked up at him in disbelief, his irritating icy ice and dirty blonde hair, pimples placed here and there.

“I.. What? That means you have a free pass into my pants now, regardless of what I say? Wow, I forgot guys like you were real. At least I won’t regret this,” she snarled, slamming his nose with her forehead.

Finally, he loosened his grip on her, and she stumbled back, rubbing her forehead. It definitely hurt him more than it hurt her. He shouted a loud ‘fuck’ and held his nose as it bled, warm, thick red dripping between his fingers.

When he started toward her, her eyes widened, and she grimaced at the thought of his blood getting anywhere near her. “No,” she warned him, as if he were a child.

She quickly moved around him and kicked him, white ankle boots striking his lower back, causing him to trip forward through the door. She heard gasps, but she stepped closer to him, her heart beating fast, but her mind, bread, and movements remained serene. He turned over into his back, looked around at all the people dressed up and watching, too drunk to even think properly.

Finally, there was that cold chill. She became distracted by the visible puff of white air passing from between her lips, but when he tried to kick her, she jumped back before he could succeed, chuckling darkly. When he gave up, she got down anyway, and straddled his lap punching him once, or twice, or more than that.

She stopped only when she felt warm fingers around her wrist after who knows how long. A mouthwatering, unsavoury saltiness in her mouth made her splutter. She unclenched her fist, whining at the pain she felt when she stretched her fingers out.

She looked up and saw Dean’s worried face. He simpered when he saw her, wiped her mouth carefully of salt as she blinked up at him. He helped her up, when she tried to do it alone, and she finally looked around, confused. Joan was helping Tarzan up, Cas and Charlie were telling people to get out of the second floor.

“Hey, how ya feelin’, baby?” Dean asked, pulling her attention away from the people dressed up in silly clothes. He held her face gently, wiping remnants of salt from her mouth that she now began to taste strongly. She pulled away from him and ran to the bathroom to spit out the tiny, unpleasant grains, her face pulled up in distaste.

She rinsed it out of her mouth with water from the sink and saw the blood flowing from her hand. Dean appeared once more, took her hand out from the running water, and guided her back into the room, to sit her down on the nearest desk.

“Tell me you’re okay,” he whispered, brushing his thumb gently over her forehead.

“I’m fine, just… confused,” she reassured him with a weak smile, taking his hand away to kiss his knuckles with wet lips. “Also that much salt is gross, we should stop shoving salt up people’s mouths,” she added with a laugh. He chuckled, too, and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“I’m gonna find some stuff to clean your hand, uh, I’ll be quick,” he told her, waiting until she nodded. Still, he was worried, so he hesitated to remove himself from her presence. “Want me to stay? I can call Cas up-”

“It’s fine, I like it when you take care of me,” she smiled at him, and mimicked the tip-of-the-nose kiss he gave to her. Dean hummed in amusement and nodded, whispering a little ‘ok’ before heading into the bathroom to search for the first-aid kit.

She held her head with her slightly-more-okay hand, realising just how painful that headbutt actually was now that the adrenaline died down. And her hands, they hurt so bad. They were covered in what was now dried blood and she frowned, Cas was gonna have to heal that later. When she was finally relaxed and able to breathe.

She talked herself down in her mind. Whatever she did was not her fault. She was obviously possessed and while she was furious because of his behaviour, she would have left as soon as he was on the floor. Sure, the intention was there, but who knows what state she left Tarzan in. As horrible and irritating as he was, she wasn’t like him. How stupid of her to feel bad.

“Babe,” Dean called softly and she averted her abstracted gaze back to him. “Hey, take this,” he offered, a pill and a water bottle in his hand. She didn’t even notice him.

“Thanks,” she murmured, but he pushed the pill into her mouth goodnaturedly, which made her chuckle. She took the bottle when he handed it to her, and watched him lovingly take her other hand to inspect it, before focusing on her face once more.

She downed half the bottle and panted, pleased with the cool liquid travelling down her insides. He lifted his other hand up to her face and gently pressed a finger against her forehead.

“Headbutt?” Dean asked with a smile, she nodded, and watched him take an alcohol wipe out from its square package. He gently cleaned her slightly-bruised forehead, and despite knowing it was making it unsanitary again, he blew air against her forehead to get it dry faster. Her eyes shut instantly, and she laughed, then felt his lips push against the same spot.

“Mm, feels a lot better now,” she hummed, leaning against his lingering mouth.

“Yeah, I bet,” he mumbled against her forehead with a grin. Dean pulled away and gave her a soft kiss on the lips before tending to her hands quietly.

He gave her time to process, he didn’t push for answers with a dozen questions, he didn’t bring up the case. Instead, he made her laugh, and he kissed her sweetly, and he caressed her tenderly. Even after he was finished, he threw everything out, made sure she knew he was there, that she was safe.

He sat with her and held her.

“Well, I think I know what brings the ghost out,” she started, playing with his sleeves.

“Yeah? Well, there was nothing in the attic,” he added. Dean watched her closely, she could feel his gaze, the worried shapes he drew on her thigh. It made her shiver. His proximity, the sudden downturn of emotions, his loving nature, all of it was overwhelming. In a good way. “I love you,” he said suddenly, it made her smile.

“I love you, too,” she responded, looking up at him lovingly.

What started out as an innocent, emotional kiss, turned into a possessive, heated make out session that left her seamless panties drenched with arousal.

Dean was everywhere.

So hot. So loving.

His large hands kneaded and squeezed, pulled and scratched, pink lips kissing hard and wet at her skin, sharp teeth nipping and marking, tongue licking and rubbing against suction marks.

“I never knew that I could want someone so badly,” he whispered, lowering her from the desk to shove her violet dress up her waist. She moaned softly, throwing her head back as he sucked and bit at her throat, his fingers slipping inside her panties, moving forward behind the silky barrier to gather her slick. “So wet, good girl,” he murmured, pressing his fingertips into her clenching, wet entrance. He moved his fingers up to her clit and drew circles around it at just the perfect pace, successfully clouding her mind.

Dean pulled away from the column of her throat, eying the reddish mark on her pulse, and watched her writhe as he massaged her clit relentlessly. She felt his teeth at her chin and she groaned, spreading her legs wider, desperate to feel him all over her body. She felt the quick buildup of her orgasm. Dean wasn’t teasing, he was determined, occasionally switching the figures on her clit, each time it made her tremble, until she tensed up.

It was then that he pulled away, the material of her underwear slapping electrifyingly against her skin. “Please,” she begged, opening her eyes lazily. Dean smirked and bit his lip, taking her underwear from beneath, he stretched it upwards, moved it up and down, so the silky material rubbed against her clit.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He asked with a chuckle, watching her mouth fall open and her body turn to mush once more. It must have been enough for him—as an answer—because he released her underwear, started to push them down her legs, and settled on his knees in front of her. He lifted her legs, one after the other, to take her underwear off completely. Dean lifted the periwinkle panties up to his mouth and licked her arousal from the crotch with a smug, “yummy.”

“Stop, we’re wasting time,” she laughed breathlessly, brushing her fingers through his hair. Instead of getting up, Dean took her thigh and lifted it, moving his face forward to tease her clit with the tip of his tongue. “Oh, fuck,” she gasped, her nails scratching the top of the smooth, wooden desk. She slowly sat up on it and watched Dean shuffle closer on his knees to taste her again.

“You taste so good,” he whispered, sliding his hands up her thighs. She leaned back slightly, watching his mouth inch closer, his warm breath making her shiver, and become aware of how embarrassingly drenched she was. He held her hips and slid the tip of his tongue from her entrance, through her labia, and began circling around her clit a few times.

She squirmed and moaned, watching him start to suck her clit—hot, muffled sounds of appreciation vibrating through her vulva from his mouth. Slowly, one of his hands travelled from her hip to her abdomen, sliding down with the intent to make her impatient, and then, he pulled away, replacing her clit in his mouth with two of his fingers. He sucked slowly, and pulled them out, coated in his warm saliva to push them into her waiting vagina.

Dean returned his mouth to her clit, focusing on her pleasure, doing everything the way he’d memorised she loved most. He angled his fingers upwards inside her, pushing deeper and deeper, brushing against the front of her walls. She clenched around him, squirmed needily, and impatiently rolled her hips against his mouth as he massaged deep inside her.

She moaned his name and tugged at his hair, her body slowly turning stiff and ready for her climax. He pulled away again. His lips made a wet, salacious sound when they parted from her cunt, and he slowly pulled his fingers out of her pussy. She breathed hard, watching him suck his soppy fingers clean of her slick with a moan. He used his other hand to busy himself with his belt as he stood before her once more.

She took his wrist to pull his fingers from his mouth with a loud slurp and placed them into hers. She sucked softly on them and stared at the slack-jawed expression while moving her hand beneath his shirts and into his unzipped pants. Dean removed his fingers from inside her warm mouth and held her cheek, moaning against her lips when she teasingly rubbed her soft hand over his cock.

“I need you inside me,” she whispered, wrapping her fingers around his thick cock, warm and hard in her hand. Dean moaned softly and nodded mindlessly, capturing her lips for a quick kiss.

“Where inside you?” He purred, teasingly brushing his nose against hers, his warm breath tickling her lips. She laughed softly instead of answering him, pushed his jeans and boxers down, slowly sinking down to her knees in front of him. “I guess that answers my question,” he exhaled, slipping his fingers through her hair.

She looked up into his eyes and let him bring her mouth towards his cock. The tip brushed against her lips, smearing the precum that dribbled out from the slit against her pink lips. She opened her mouth more, letting him guide her on and off his dick. She hummed at the taste of him invading her taste buds, the way it always did, making her mouth water.

He liked how messy it got when she went down on him. She knew the way she drooled over his thick length set a fire of passion and desire that would make the Sun envious. When tears fell from her eyes across her flushed cheeks, her lashes sticking together, her eyes bright and glossy as she choked on him—he gripped her ginger hair harder and properly began fucking her face.

Fast and loud, his cock went down her throat and in and out of her salivating mouth, edging himself the way he’d done to her. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” Dean praised, starting to slow down throating fucking her until he eventually pulled out of her mouth. A string of saliva and precum connected her mouth and his cock, breaking away when she stood back up.

He brought her in for a kiss with a smug smirk, lewdly licking her lips for remnants of him before pushing his warm tongue past her swollen lips. They moaned softly and she buried both hands into his hair, her hands flexing before gripping strands of his hair to tug at. “We’re wasting time,” she reminded him, pecking his lips before sitting back up on the desk, using her calves to bring his hips forward.

“I hope we waste a lot of time,” he licked his lips with a grin. Dean teasingly took his cock and gently tapped her clit with the head of it.

She laughed breathlessly, squirming when he dragged his cock through her soaked folds, “that’s not funny.”

“Well, it made you laugh,” he bit his lip, pressing his cock into her clenching, dripping pussy.

“Your… face is funny, that’s why,” she lied playfully, his lips hovering over hers. He chortled and pulled back slightly, brows furrowed in playful offence, then he slapped his hand over her clit without warning. She yelped, and attempted to shut her legs, but Dean’s hips prevented her from doing so.

“Come ‘ere, baby,” he whispered, guiding his cock back to her entrance. He cut off her playful protest with a kiss, and gently pushed himself into, digging his blunt nails into her hips. She placed her arm around his shoulder to prevent him from pulling away from her lips, only momentarily catching their breaths as he started to fuck her with abandon.

Items on the desk rattled as he fucked her hard, the wooden table hitting the wall with every thrust of his hips. Her stomach flipped excitedly, his soft moans against her mouth, small whines from her against his. Dean occasionally bit her lip and kissed her with passion as they clung to each other, pulling each other close, desperate to get closer.

Their warm breaths mingled together and she rolled her hips against his, her face burning with a blush, her pussy clenching tight around him. He grunted against her lip and buried his face into her neck, pushing his cock as deep as he could into her. His hot cum spilled inside her and she moaned in unison with him, her orgasm triggered by his.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped, fucking her through her orgasm before coming to a slow halt. Her neck was damp with his warm breath, her hot skin flushing a deeper rosy colour when she whimpered his name.

“Thanks, Dean,” she murmured, kissing his temple before he pulled away. He smiled at her, his green eyes lovingly trailing over her face. He cupped her cheeks, pressing a lovingly kiss to her lips, the tip of her nose, and her forehead. “It’s kinda suspicious how long we took, isn’t it?” She laughed, biting her lip to muffle her moan when he slowly pulled out of her.

“Yeah, uh, pretty much,” he chuckled, pulling his pants up. She watched him with her legs squeezed shut, the flushed afterglow on his face was more than obvious.

“Oh well,” she shrugged, taking her underwear from the desk. Dean snatched them from her with narrowed eyes and got down to put them back on her. “Let’s go before it gets weirder,” she giggled, moving off the desk to fix her underwear properly. Dean nodded and lowered her dress once more, staring at her with a smirk when she began squirming as she walked.

“You don’t wanna clean up?” He laughed, slapping his hand over her ass when he joined her. He squeezed the flesh and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“We can shower back at the motel,” she shrugged, squeaking when he turned her around and threw her over his shoulder faster than she could process. She laughed with him, clinging to his shirt as he held her with one arm around her, the other hand squeezing her thigh reassuringly.

“Let’s get outta here fast, then,” Dean smiled, slapping her ass. “Wait, I need to say… I finally got to fuck Daphne.”

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