Dean Winchester Fic - Blog Posts

Red Wings {d.w.}

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!! Period sex, descriptions of blood, slight blood kink, pet names, unprotected sex (wrap it unless that's what you want!) Also, I know 'Red Wings' refers to oral sex, but I've only ever known it to be from penetration--so it's penetration in this. (if i missed anything please let me know. also let me know if this is fucked and if i should delete). Word count: 2k

A/N: Any feedback is appreciated, especially on this one. Feel free to be brutally honest. Happy reading, hopefully!

—

It’s no surprise that Dean doesn’t mind cleaning up period blood. It’s a part of his job description for hell's sake. And he’s damn good at getting deep stains out of your underwear, or on occasion where you bleed through your pads and stain the sheets during the night. He’s more than happy to help during your vulnerable days. In fact, he loves it. Loves taking care of his sweet girl. 

Dean has been through numerous types of pain, but he will never know what it’s like for his body to attack itself. Doesn’t understand the breast tenderness where even a loose shirt hurts to have on. Cramps so debilitating that you can’t even stand–that move to your back, to your vagina, and sometimes it zaps your damned asshole. The iron deficiency that gives you headaches and makes you so tired and weak. Sometimes the pain lasts for hours without a break. 

He keeps begging you to get checked for endometriosis–and has been secretly doing his research because it makes him feel useless that he can’t soothe the pain. You’re stubborn though and don’t listen to him. 

The cramps aren’t the worst tonight but they’re bad enough that you keep wiggling around and aren’t able to fall asleep. You’ve noticed recently that Dean sleeps lighter when you’re on your period–he’s more intune with you and your body. Always ready to make sure you’re okay. He’s groggy when he turns over and drapes an arm over your waist. His hand slips under your shirt and goes to your stomach, the warmth acts as a heating pad. Then he starts massaging gently, going from one side to the other, then pushing down towards your uterus. Once he’s done that for a couple rounds, the massage gets deeper, and that’s when you let out a throaty groan.

The pressure that is placed on your stomach actually helps relieve the cramping. 

“Feel good, baby?” Dean mumbles, his warm breath tickles your ear.

“Yes…really good,” You exhale. “How’d you know to do this?”

“Found a video on youtube. Hate knowing how much it hurts you. Had to figure something out for my girl.”

“Fuuuck.” The release is too good to be true.

Dean leaned over your shoulder, kissing your forehead, then your cheek–still massaging. “You, um…you know what else I came across that could help your cramps?”

“Hmm?”

“I read,” he pauses to kiss your shoulder, “that period sex helps release endorphins or whatever and acts as a natural painkiller. Would you–would you want to try…?”

You never entertained the idea of having period sex. It was messy and the clean up would be a nuisance. Also, Dean already had to deal with washing blood from his own hands from the job, plus whenever you bled through clothes and periodically on the sheets. Even if you insisted on cleaning everything yourself, he’d make it his responsibility. You didn’t want to burden him or trigger a trauma response with how heavy your flow could get.

Admittedly, his willingness to do anything for your aching body was turning you on. It was something the two of you have never done. With anyone.

“Let’s try it. But we’re stopping if—“

“If your cramps get worse. Of course, sweetheart.” You saw him wink at you in the dimly lit room and your core heated up. He could read your mind so effortlessly.

Dean gives you a gentle kiss on the lips before getting up and walking out of the room. Coming back a minute later with a dark towel. 

“Lift your hips up fr’me.”

You follow his instruction and he slides the towel underneath you. And when you settle back down he pulls both your underwear and sweatpants off. You remove your tank top while Dean takes off his boxers. His cock springs out of them–you didn’t even realize he was hard in the first place. Your clit pulses at the sight. He eyes you–taking in your beautiful bare body as he begins stroking himself. A small groan leaves his plump lips while he climbs on the bed, positioning his legs on either side of you. 

Dean remains straddling you, pumping his dick slowly–you watch his precum building on his tip, threatening to leak down his shaft at any moment. With his other hand he finds your clit. You can’t help but to jerk back, not being used to him touching you during this time of the month.

His voice sweet and slow like honey, “It’s okay baby. Blood won’t hurt me none.” 

A small croak of approval emits itself from your throat while you shake your head in agreement. Replacing his large fingers over your small sensitive bud, he presses down slightly and moves side to side. Just how you like it. Concern sits at the forefront of your mind about your blood spilling out at any moment. But with every moment that passes while Dean touches you–while you watch him touch himself–is another moment that eases the thought of the clean up that has to happen later. You eventually lay back down, resting your head on your pillow, elevated just enough so you’re still able to watch. 

“That’s my girl. Just relax.” He stops pleasuring himself and drops himself over you with his free hand, and leans down planting a kiss on your lips. He pulls away and brushes his lips against yours, “You ready? I need to hear you speak this time.”

“I’m good, I’m okay.” You say as you brush your fingers along the side of his jaw, a little smile blooming on Dean's face. “Go slow at first?”

His eyes narrow at you, taking his fingers off your clit to find himself, gradually guiding his length into your bloody cunt–moaning, “Always,” once he feels how much warmer you are. 

You can’t describe it, but having him in you definitely feels like ecstacy. Every pump was almost overstimulating, the slickness turning you on. The fact that he was in you raw, had your mind spinning in circles. Your walls gripping him as tightly as possible, and your body begging him to keep going. Desperate cries escaped your pretty little mouth. Wrapping your legs around his back so he had no choice but to keep going–whispering quietly, “Don’t stop”, repeatedly in his ear. 

How was sex this blissful? Maybe because you’re more sensitive? Or hornier than usual? Which was hard to believe, it’s virtually impossible because you always wanted him to fuck you senseless. But this was different. You wanted Dean so fervently. The feeling is almost primal…

“Fuuck,” Dean grunted as he pumped his dick into you, “Baby…you feel so good. So warm.” 

His head bobbed down like he couldn’t hold it up anymore, so you held him in your hands–making him look into your lustful eyes. He was breaking already. When he’s close his nose scrunches, his bottom lip quivers, and his eyebrows knot up. He’s mouthing, “I’m close.”

“No–”

“Shit, am I hurting you?” Dean immediately halts his actions, taking himself out of you and sits you up, “I’m sorry. I–we can stop...”

When you giggle, Dean can’t hide his confusion. He’s so adorable when he’s concerned. “I’m fine, my love.” You place a tender kiss on the hand that had made its way to your cheek, “Just didn’t want you cumming yet. I wanna be on top.”

“Don’t scare me like that.” He glares at you as he takes your place on the towel. 

You look at his pelvis before you climb on top of him, and there’s a decent amount of blood coating his dick and thighs. A part of you is guilty for bloodying him up, but the devilish side of you loves the sight. It’s not other people’s or monsters' body fluid on your partner, but it’s your own. No violence caused this—well besides your uterus hating you, but that’s not the point. The point is that he will do anything to make you feel like you’re on cloud nine. Even if it means staining his skin red.

A loud animalistic moan came from Dean once you slipped his cock in you. Grinding your hips slowly at first to really savor the moment, to take in the beautiful man beneath you. His hands gripping your love handles guiding your movements. Small whines leave you as he makes you speed up, making you grasp onto his hips. 

At this point everything is getting you so riled up and you can’t help it. Any insecurity has left you. There was blood that had smeared on Dean’s stomach, most likely from the hand that grabbed his member, and that was the final straw for your self control. Dean noticed the sinister look in your eyes.

“You like seeing that don’t you? Your blood all over me?” He asks behind gritted teeth, pounding your wet and bloody cunt, “Fuck me baby.”

And that’s exactly what you do. You lay yourself into the crook of Dean’s neck and bounce on his hard length. The sound of his skin slapping against yours drives you mad, involuntary cries escape from both of you.

He’s pulling your hair with one hand and gripping your ass with the other, “That’s it, pretty girl,” he slaps your bottom, whispering in your ear, “can feel you tightening around my dick.” Dean then pushes you up slightly, lifts his head up finding one of your breasts, and starts flicking his tongue against your nipple. The hand that leaned you upwards is now kneading your tit.

That was your weakness—him playing with your nipples. They’ve always been sensitive and are the reason for most of your orgasms, which is where you were heading. Fast. Dean’s taken over again. He’s humming into your breast as he takes it in his mouth, and his hips are bucking into yours at an ungodly speed. Your stomach is twisting at the stimulation, your body is shaking. There’s no strength left to support yourself, you begin to sway. Dean eventually guiding you to rest onto him.

“Dean, I’m…I’m cumming.”

“Yeah, angel. Can feel you throbbing. God…” He lets out a sharp exhale, eyes rolling back–he’s so close to spilling into you. Reaching down to pull himself out of your pussy–but you refuse, needing him in every way imaginable. Pulling his hand away from where you two were connected, “I–I can’t hold it. Baby, please!” 

“Cum in me.”

“Wha–”

You grind as fast as you’re able to.

 “You heard me,” seductively exaggerating your next words, “Cum. In. Me.”

“Oh fuuck, yeah–yeah…” Dean howls your name as he releases his load into your swollen hole, the heat from his climax flowing through you. The euphoria that was clouding your judgement slowly wearing off. Breaths are evening out, while you still slowly move yourself up and down–milking little spasms out of Dean until he begs for you to stop.

“Dirty girl, having me cum in you. Didn’t expect you’d like period sex this much.” A huge grin spreads across his face, love in his eyes, “How’s the pain?”

You say as you cup his face with one hand, returning the happiness, “Gone.”

“Good. Also didn’t expect you to get turned on by having your blood covering me.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, it’s hot. C’mere.” Grabbing you by the nape of your neck, he pulls you into a soft, sensual kiss. “I felt so close to you, watching how turned on you got. How wild you looked, made me want to give you my children.”

“Well, you did. Technically.” You smirk. A look of defeat washed over him, he was serious. His demeanor makes you compose your humor, “Well, this is a good start then.” 

There’s that adorable smile and those cute crows feet that crinkle around his eyes.

“Let’s wait a little while though, I have a feeling you’re gunna want me to fuck you while you’re on your period more often.” 

“Mmh, how’d you know?”

“Honey, you gave me my first set of red wings and you got so hot and bothered by it. I know you, know what you want.” He gets off the bed and yanks you into his arms, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

—

tags! @aylacavebear @daylighted @ambiguous-avery @deans-spinster-witch (if you want to be untagged, there's no judgement!)

Ten Years Gone

3. Invited In

Warnings: Emotional distress Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I didn't proofread this thoroughly, if there's any discrepancies that's my bad.

The driveway was almost snowed over after Novena had shoveled that morning, but wasn’t too deep to stop Dean from pulling in closer to the house. The visibility was only getting worse and it was a miracle that they’d made it back safely. It still baffles her that only living ten minutes inland can affect how much snow her area gets.

“Dean, please stay for tonight. I’d hate for you to get into an accident…”

“I’ll be fine. Driving in a bit of bad weather is nothin’ new to me. I’ll stay until you get inside.”

Such a typical man answer. Rolling her eyes and pressing her lips together in frustration at his comment.

 Huffing out a deep exaggerated breath she says, “That’s unacceptable. You’re coming with me.” 

“Are you detaining me…” Dean lets out a small giggle.

Then he realizes that she’s actually serious, he raises his eyebrows in curiosity. She had a worried look on her face, and it makes him wonder if it’s just for his safety or if there’s something bad hidden beneath those eyes of hers. “Fine, fine. First thing in the morning, I’m outta here.”

Novena nods her head in approval. Dean shuts off the ignition and the pair get out of the car and walk across the driveway to get to the porch stairs. The porch light flickers on once they’re close enough. 

Must be motion-sensored, Dean thinks to himself.

He didn’t see her pull out her keys to unlock her door, she just walked right in.

Weird, who doesn’t lock their doors? 

When entering the house there’s a sign hung up on the stair banister in front of them that states, “No Shoes Beyond This Point!” Dean is self conscious only because he didn’t have time to shower this morning, and he’s been wearing shoes all day.

The house smelled of lavender and cedarwood. There were things everywhere but not in a hoarding type of way. Everything seemed to have a purpose. To the right of the staircase was the living room, an old box tv sat atop a refurbished entertainment center. She motioned for him to walk down the hall and follow her to the back of the house. Pictures littered the walls in the hallway, some of nature and some of her family. 

Then there was the kitchen. It felt like home to Dean.

There were no overhead lights in the ceiling, only smaller lamps everywhere. Again, pictures were covering the walls, cookbooks and coffee mugs sat in built-in cabinets that are on either side of the small circular dining table—with a big window that leads out to the backyard above the table. Plants hanging in front of the window that’s above the sink. A baby pink vintage fridge reminded Dean of the one his parents used to have in Florence, only theirs was light green. And it smelt of homemade bread.

“You want any water? Food?” She asked.

Cinnamon rolls.

“Could I have one of these?” Dean was already taking the lid off of the glass cake stand before Novena had the chance to say anything.

“Mmm, these’re good. You make ‘em yourself?”

A huge grin spread across her face, “I did. Family recipe.” She slid a glass of water to him anyway. 

“Damn. I’d die for these rolls…”

That’s when he heard a thunderous bark come from the other side of the kitchen. A huge, midnight black pitbull was lurking in the shadows, glowing gold eyes shining brightly in the dimly lit room. It made Dean jump for a second time, quickly moving off of the stool he sat himself on. Instinctively reaching for his gun. He almost choked on his cinnamon roll. Trying to cough out the small piece of bread that went down the wrong pipe.

“Sorry about that. Ghost can be very quiet when he wants to be. Come here Ghosty, say hi.”

The dog is cautious, as he should be. Dean was a stranger after all. Ghost slowly lurked towards them, every muscle becoming visible in the more illuminated area of the kitchen, and sniffed Dean’s hand when he extended it out towards him.

Ghost stared intently at Dean, as if trying to determine if he’s worth trusting. If he’s worth being in his owner's home. It almost felt like an interview? The nervous eye contact, heart rate increasing, if Ghost had opposable thumbs, they’d be shaking hands right now. Dean had hoped he wouldn’t smell all of the old blood that remained embedded in his leather jacket and his boots, or sense that he had killed countlessly–or that he had lost part of himself in Hell and in Purgatory…

After what felt like hours, Ghost gently licked Dean's fingers that were lingering in the air and rubbed his head against his palm afterward. Patting his head and taking a big sigh of relief, Dean relaxed back onto the stool, and was met with the sweet, intoxicating laugh from the woman who is too trusting of him. 

Like mother like son, he couldn’t help but to think.

“I’m surprised he likes you. He usually hates men.” 

“Well, that’s good to know after the fact. Thanks for the heads up…” Rolling his eyes not so playfully this time.

Novena saunters over to him, stands between his spread out legs, and places both of her hands on his face, whispering, “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, scaredy cat.” Gives him a wink and boops his nose. He is so whipped already, his mouth agape and eyes pining into hers. The trance she causes him to go into is irresistible.

“Um–uh, you should really lock your doors. Noticed it when we walked in.” He places his hands at the small of her back, inching her closer to him.

“Attentive now, are we?” Still maintaining that breathy tone.

“Yes, ma’am. Wanna know you’re safe.” What the actual hell? Why did he feel the need to say what he was truly thinking?

Novena was so close. Her long hair that smelled like coconut was tickling Dean’s thighs. He was looking up at her, head inclined to keep his eyes on hers and not her bust…

“Trust me, it’s safe in this town. More so in this house–”

“If it’s so safe, tell me why your ex ruined your car? Sounds dangerous to me.”

Her demeanor changed instantly. Defensively backing away from him, she crossed her arms and looked down towards the ground. Eyes starting to water, cheeks turning pink with anger, voice quivering, “I think it’s best that I get to bed. If it clears up tomorrow, I need to leave early for work.” 

“I, I’m sorry Nov–”

“It’s fine, let me show you to the guest room.”

—

Novena had shown him upstairs to the room he was to stay in, was provided a towel, travel sized toiletries, and pajamas. Dean watched her walk with her arms wrapped around her, as if she was comforting herself, down the hall until she turned the corner to get to her room.

He felt like shit even after his shower. There must be more to the story if she got this upset over a simple comment. The self guilt that radiated from her was worrisome–like Novena should’ve known Vince was going to act that way. Almost as if she couldn’t predict it. How would she be able to? But why did it seem that way? And what makes her think this house is ultimately safer, especially with the doors unlocked?

Dean padded across the hall towards the room, dried off, and put on the clothes he was given. They fit well. He couldn’t help but to wonder if these were her dad’s or her ex’s pajamas. Hopefully the former. Is that even appropriate to hope for since he’s dead? Dean guessed it was the better option, he didn’t know either of them but he already wants to kick the ex’s ass. Novena was better off without any of his possessions around.

Laying down on the bed was like laying down on a woman’s breast. Soft but firm, warm, and heavenly. The only thing missing was listening to a heartbeat lulling him to sleep. Instead, thoughts of Purgatory plagued his thoughts. The sleepless nights, killing over and over again, looking for Cass, almost getting killed hundreds of times whenever he had tried to get rest. It’s safe to say that it’s a long night riddled with insomnia. 

Two hours had passed before Dean knew it. The hum of the radiator in the corner of the room was somewhat soothing. Every so often the house would creek, causing him to be on high alert. Worried that someone, or something was roaming the halls. At times he thought he heard whimpering coming from the other side of the house, which Dean dismissed–phantom noises like that happen more often than you think working in this business. Especially when you protect more people than you can count. Although, it could be Ghost or Novena. He was conflicted on if he wanted to check on her, since he had upset her. At times it wouldn’t be surprising if Dean was losing his sanity by worrying so much. She’d be fine. He would make it up to her in the morning.

Dean was finally drifting in and out of conscientiousness–focusing on the radiator was the trick to ease his brain into submission. 

Then he heard her blood-curdling scream. 

He wasn’t exactly sure where her room was but he was running in the direction she had gone earlier. Looking behind every door until he found her. Ghost was whimpering somewhere at her bedside when he flung open the door. Flicking on the lightswitch Dean saw that Novena was thrashing in her bed. Grasping at her throat. Tears running down her face. Moving swiftly towards her, Dean sat beside her and held her down while whispering her name, and to wake up. That nothing bad was happening. That she was safe. 

The sadness that her sobs entailed was heartbreaking. What happened to this woman to provoke these night terrors? She still wasn’t waking up but she had calmed down slightly. Calling out for both of her parents. The weak “mommy’s” and “daddy’s” escaping her raw throat made Dean tear up. Her inner child called out for her guardians that she had to mourn; he knew how that felt. And all he could do was hold her close to him, murmuring that he was right there whenever she woke up.

—

tags! @ambiguous-avery @aylacavebear @jackles010378 @deans-spinster-witch

The Taste of Us {d.w.}

A/N: This is me losing my smut virginity. Be gentle with me plz!!! Tell me if it’s any good or not.

Warning: semi-public sex?? oral: m & f receiving, pet names, teeth kink?? (if I missed something let me know!!) MDNI 18+ Word count: 1.8k

—

It’s a hot summer night in the Middle of Nowhere, Tennessee. The crickets are chirping, lightning bugs are illuminating the sparsely lit backroads, and the sweet gentle hum of a 1967 Chevy Impala is making its way to your ears. 

You're working the nightshift at a roadside diner that probably loses money staying open twenty-four hours a day, and definitely isn’t paying you enough. There’s only two more hours left of your shift before the next employee shows up. That’s when he comes in, a boy roughly around your age–and he’s unbelievably charming. Rare around these parts.

When the door to the diner closes, you can feel the thick, humid air push towards you. And almost immediately you feel the wind get knocked out of you by the sight of this stranger. Sandy hair, freshly shaven, eyes that could blend into the dense forest surrounding the restaurant; he wore an interesting frog-like necklace? You couldn’t really tell what it was–and what seems to be a wedding ring on one of his pointer fingers. 

He sat away from where you had propped yourself against the counter. You sauntered over there after minutes of painful silence. 

“Long night?”

Dean only lifted his eyes to look at you and gave a weak smile. Comparing his features to the forest is effortless to you. Eyes like the pines, dark circles would blend in with the dirt after it rains, every scar that litters his face resembles the places where lightning hits. His beauty is tragic and unfathomable. 

“Not anymore.” His voice was warmer than how he looked. Seduction covered his eyes like the clouds in the sky.

“Ah, yeah. I bet.” You roll your eyes sarcastically. Tapping your pen against your small notebook, “What can I get ya, darlin’?”

Dean can’t get enough of your accent, he really had to play this right in order not to walk out of here with a raging hard on. He couldn’t imagine waltzing in here again with that kind of embarrassment following him around.

“What’s your name?”

You’ve had more than enough men coming in here looking at you like you’re an object to them. Their smiles that lead to empty, crazy eyes that give you goose-pimples all over. Every. Single. Time. But him? His voice was as sweet as the tea you poured yourself earlier. Dean never breaks eye contact, making you blush. So you told him.

“Such a beautiful name, sweetheart.” He winks at you, then grins as he lowers his head to browse the menu. “Could I have…you?”

If he didn’t look at you like you were the only star in the sky, you definitely would’ve said no. But holy hell, that twinkle in his eyes made you wetter than the spring brings rain. And his teeth. He could sink those canines right into your thighs…

You must’ve been staring too long. He raised his eyebrows and a curious yet defeated expression flooded his features. Mouthing a small “okay” then began to actually look at the menu. 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I—I’m sorry. I’m used to old geezers hittin’ on me. Not a fine man like yourself.” Shyness takes over you. You start to tremble from how nervous you are, and the tips of your ears turn even redder.

“No need to be sorry, pretty girl.” He stands up from the stool, leaning so far forward that you can smell a faint hint of Irish Springs on his skin. Mere inches separate your face from his. Dean whispers seductively, “This place usually busy at night?” 

As soon as you shake your head no, he gently places his hand on your cheek, chuckling at how warm it is, then pulling you into the most intimate kiss that has ever touched your lips. It takes you a second to reciprocate before moving at the same tempo. 

God, it’s been forever since you’ve had human contact like this. The two of you synced up so well together, like you’ve done this before. He was too good. So. Good. A small moan escapes from your mouth. 

“Get on the counter fr’ me.”

You obey his command. You pulled yourself up and sat on your shins. The dress you had on rode upwards.

“Sit down and put your feet on the edge.” A light order as his hands trail up and down your exposed thighs.

“Would a please hurt ya, sweet cheeks?”

He teases you back and drawls out, “Pleeaase?”

Again, you do as he says. You just can’t help it, everything about him is alluring. Slowly making your way to the position he wants you at. The two of you don’t break eye contact. Not a fuck would be given by either of you if someone walked in.

He hikes your dress up, smiling at how wide-spread your legs are for him. A serious look washed over him right before he pulled your panties down. A sudden realization. 

“Is this okay?”

How much hotter can he get? You thought.

“What’s your name?”

“Huh? My name? It–it’s Dean…”

“Dean, honey–anything you do to me is more than okay.” You lean back onto your elbows, smirking.

He proceeds with his actions. Placing tender kisses down one thigh, stopping so–so close to your most sensitive area. Then skipping over it to kiss up the other thigh. As if he had read your mind from earlier–when he gets to a meatier part of your leg, Dean sinks his incisors into you and takes your skin between them. Delicately sucking, marking you as his. That’s when you finally begin to relax.

A couple love marks later, without warning, he slides his tongue in you. His warmth makes you jump and squeal–you’ve always been sensitive and ticklish down there, especially if it’s been a while. 

An animalistic grunt comes out of Dean's mouth, into your pussy. You can feel his grin widen against your pelvic bone while his tongue flicks inside you. When you look down at him he’s already staring–desperate for more of what he heard, he moves up to your clit. Massaging it in a side-to-side motion. He sees your eyes roll back and he immediately plunges two of his thick fingers into your slick entrance. Another gasp slips out of you. 

His “come-hither” was perfect—hitting your spot just right. His mouth already knew how to please you. But it was his eyes that made you come undone. Pulling your head back up, you find that Dean had never stopped looking at you.

“You’re so delicious, baby. Fuuck. Could do this all night.”

Tension was building within you. Every muscle was convulsing, one of your legs slipped off of the counter. Dean quickly placed it back up with his free hand.

“That’s it–cum for me.”

You’ve never experienced an orgasm quite like this one. Your swollen clit was throbbing, sending electricity throughout your body. Your walls pulsating around Dean’s fingers–your thick milky cum coated them as he pulled them out of you. He spread them apart and leisurely slipped his digits in his mouth. A delicious sound came from his throat, eyes closing as he savored your taste.

Where did this man come from? Who the fuck cares, you were grateful.

“C’mon, sugar. Your turn.” You pointed to the booth behind him. “Move that table to the side and take a seat.”

That drove him crazy–you taking over. Wanting to pleasure him. It wasn’t often that women told him what to do during sex, but he is more than willing to submit to you. 

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a hint of southern twang. 

The table made a loud shriek as Dean pushed it, making you look behind your shoulder–expecting someone to come from the back of the diner with concern. No one came. You looked out of the window to make sure the parking lot and road were empty. Nothing was out there. Shifting your focus back to Dean, you notice sweat glistening on his forehead. Eyes tracking your every movement. You walk up to him and climb onto his lap, sitting on his hardened length.

“That fucking smile of yours is gunna be the death of me.” You murmur against his ear, and can see the hair on his neck stand up.

His cock wavering in his jeans, trying to find a way to your cunt as you rock your hips and suckle on small areas of his neck. One of his arms wraps around your waist, pulling you in closer while the other wraps around your throat and guides your face towards his. Lips connecting, mouths opening–the taste of your cum still lingers on his tongue. The hand he had on the small of your back reaches for the button on his jeans, but you had other plans.

Jerking away from him, wagging your finger no, then sliding off him to sit on your knees. Glancing up at this devilish man before you, with sex in your eyes. Undoing his jeans for him, he lifts up his lower half to make it easier for you to take them off. His cock springs up. Pre-cum covering his enlarged tip. Your hand making its way to him, spreading his arousal down his shaft in steady, unhurried movements. Dean placed his large palms right under your ears, tugging you towards him. 

“Ask for me, if you want my mouth so badly.”

“Please, sweetheart.”

“What do you want, pretty boy?” You asked, resting your chin on your hand, lightly brushing your lips on his sensitive head.

“Want yr’ mouth around me. Please?” 

The desperation leaking out of him was ecstasy for you. Giving in, you wrap your mouth around his girth. He’s so big. Plunging his dick so far down your throat that you gag on it. Spit dripping down his balls and your chin. In your peripheral vision you see his mouth ajar. It was almost undetectable, but he let out a tiny gasp. 

Removing him from your mouth you beg, “Lemme hear you, Dean…”

Then he lets out the most beautiful moan, making your pussy drip all over again. He grabs the back of your neck and his cock at the same time–ushering himself into you. Desire radiating from him as you lock eyes. Continuing to suck and hum against him, working your hand in circular motions in stride with your mouth. Faster and faster as he begins to buck his hips. 

“Oh fuck, I’m–I’m cumming, baby. Take me out…”

Refusing to listen to him, you don’t stop using the mouth God gave you. The guttural roar that filled the room was your only indicator that he wasn’t in control anymore. His cum shooting to the back of your throat. Dean grabbed the edges of the booth so tightly from you overstimulating him, then he finally took in a sharp breath. Removing his cock from you, you get up and straddle him again. Leaning in to kiss him but he withdraws. A questioning look that reads, did you swallow?

You only nod, then stick your tongue out.

“Good girl.”

Giving you a sensual kiss, slipping his tongue over yours.

“I taste so good in your mouth.”

—

tags! @aylacavebear @daylighted @ambiguous-avery @deans-spinster-witch (if you want to be untagged, there's no judgment!)

For the people that just find Dean Winchester so so handsome like the gorgeous man he is, would y’all be interested in submitting requests for writings? I’m desperate I need to write ab him😭