Tumgik
crushedbyhyperbole · 19 hours
Text
You got to baby powder those delicate areas 🤣
Tumblr media Tumblr media
When you 69 but you're both old men.
315 notes · View notes
Text
Dean is bae, without a doubt
Before I Met Angels - Pt 2 - Now...
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus!Fem!Reader
Summary: Dean came for the hunt, but he stayed for you. He shows you exactly why you don't need to be insecure about the thicc juicy parts of you he can't get enough of.
Words: 2.2k
A/N: Thank you for your request, Nonny! You wanted insecure reader who was worried that Dean didn't like her fabulous Goddess body, but he does, and shows her just how much he does by devouring her. I hope this hits the spot.
I actually wrote the back story for this which is Before I Met Angels Pt 1 - Then..., but this is part 2 - now... Enjoy 😘
Warnings: Smut, oral - mainly F receiving, insecurities/comfort, bit of fluff, bit of cheesiness. Surprisingly not much by way of profanity.
***MINORS DO NOT ENTER OR INTERACT***
Tumblr media
The sound of the TV blends into the background, secondary to the steady thu-thump of your heartbeat and the whoosh of your pulse in your ears.  The sofa is soft beneath you, perfectly contrasting the firmness of the man you are partially wrapped around.
Dean Winchester had been with you for almost three months, and what months they had been.
You first met when Dean showed up on your doorstep after the ghost of your long dead boyfriend had started killing off your love interests all over town.  Dean had posed as your newest suitor in order to lure the ghost out and your connection had developed from there.
The weeks of pretending to be attracted to each other had resulted in undeniable chemistry and, once your ghost problem had been resolved, you had asked him to stay the night.  Months later, he was still staying the night.
Dean’s hands stroke your waist and hip as you snuggle up against him, his laugh is like poetry, even if it’s born from the most recent episode of Dr Sexy.  He inches your baggy sweater up until he finds bare skin, glancing at you when you tense slightly as his fingers slip under the waistband of your leggings.
You don’t like a lot of things about your body, such as your stomach and ‘thunder thighs’ as you call them, because they aren’t what people think of as attractive.  Dean has never said these things to you, but for someone with a sex drive like his, how can he prefer how you look over some of the women you have seen hitting on him since you’ve known him?
When you look up at Dean he is staring down at you, reading the anxiety on your face with a light frown, but rather than draw attention to it and make you explain what he already knows, he simply sits and adjusts himself so your legs are across his lap rather than you being lay against each other.
Just so arranged, he begins to give you a foot rub, gradually working his way up your calves while he glances less and less frequently at the TV.  When he slides his hands up the tops of your thighs, you close your eyes but he doesn’t stop.  Dean strokes and kneads your thighs before teasing with his fingertips over your clothes, feather-light touches causing a delightful tingling sensation to creep up to your core.
When his hand dips between your legs and gently glances over your covered mound you inhale sharply, earning a sly smirk from him.  That bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.  He strokes there again with the pads of his fingers circling until you clamp your thighs around his hand, trapping him.
“Just where I wanna be,” he flashes you a wicked grin as he continues to apply pressure and motion right over your most sensitive spot.  “I love it even more when you grip my hips like this… or my head.”
“Dean…”  You admonish half-heartedly.  You don’t want him to stop.  You never want him to stop.  “Please…”
“You want something, baby girl?” 
Of course you do, and he knows it.  Dean always knows what you want, it’s shameful how easily he reads the signs your body displays for him.
You nod, reaching for him.  “Just you.”
You want to pull him down onto the couch with you again and have him kiss you and make you forget all the hateful things your traitorous brain tells you about yourself and about how he feels about you.  How can someone as perfect as he is really be attracted so someone like you?
“Oh, you’ll have me, but I got something I wanna do first,” he says, reaching under your ass for the waistband of your leggings.  “Now lift,” he commands.
Dean slides your leggings down over your ass and up your raised legs until you are bare; he has brought your panties off with your leggings, exposing you to him completely.
Your instinct is to pull your sweater down over your stomach but he stops you with a kind but firm grip on your hands.  Releasing you, he bites his lip as he strokes the bare skin of your legs, abdomen and hips.  Embarrassed at being so exposed, you look away from him.
“Hey,” his finger under your chin stops you and turns your gaze back to him.  “Eyes on me, understand?”
You nod nervously, and he gets up to strip himself down to his jockey shorts before kneeling on the floor.
He’s half hard already – the firm shape of his arousal visible underneath the straining grey of his shorts – and he’s getting harder every second he looks at you with that hunger in his eyes.
Dean Winchester has never has ever taken anything from you he hasn’t given in return ten-fold, and he’s not about to break that habit now.  He tugs you towards him, his hands under your knees, and turns you to access your exposed heat.  Glistening with your need for him, you feel his breaths as a rhythmic cooling breeze.
“This,” he says lifting one of your legs up and bringing his lips to your ankle where he lays a kiss, “is sexy.”
You blush and look away, earning you a nip with his teeth right were he had kissed before, making your eyes snap back to where his eyes burn into you with heat and a warning not to look away again.  Soothing his bite afterwards with his tongue, he makes a wet meandering trail up your calf where he lays yet more kisses.
“And this,” he says, holding your gaze while his lips and short beard leave your skin sensitive and hot.  “This is gorgeous.”
Your face is aflame as he moves steadily higher, stroking his hands and lips up your inner thigh.
“But this,” he sucks a light mark into the delicate skin of your thigh, causing you to moan and pull away from the slight aching reminder of his mouth.  “This is divine.”
Dean slides his hand right up to the apex of your thighs where he blows a more cooling breath against the moisture pooling between your lips, laying kisses around where you want him most, but never actually touching you there.  He hums with satisfaction as you squirm when he pulls away.
“Patience is a virtue.”  The cheeky bastard says with a smugness he tries to hide behind a coy smile.  It doesn’t work and he looks devilishly amused as he raises your other leg to start the process again.
All you can do is watch him as he lavishes the skin of your legs with his kisses and the occasional scrape of his stubble.  When you flinch, he soothes you with obscene tongue-work that you know is going to ruin you when he finally reaches his goal.  All the while, his eyes hold yours as he does to you the things he knows you deserve.
Stroking his hand up the undersides of your calf, he guides your leg over his shoulder and slides his other up the inside of your other thigh.  He meets your gaze once more when he leans in with his lips a deeper pink from his kisses and the green of his eyes a mere sliver against the black of his pupils.  If there is any doubt that Dean Winchester is into you, this is your sign to throw that doubt away.
He places a gentle sucking kiss over your sensitive spot.  The tightly wound anticipation of this contact makes your thighs twitch, and you see his eyes crinkle with a smile as he does it again, sucking a little firmer this time, and again, until you moan his name.
Dean has tasted you before, on his fingers or on yours, but never had full access to the buffet table, so to speak.  Your sweet muskiness is alluring, and he devours you like a messy burger, his slurps obscene, his moans erotic.  He brings you so close to the edge multiple times, teasing you with the orgasm he knows you want but denying you at the last second.
You beg him to finish you but he smirks and pulls back, his beard dark with your slick and his lips red and swollen.
He leans his head on your plush thigh as he keeps your pleasure alive with his suckling kisses and the flat swipe of his tongue.  You’re practically pulsating with need when he finally speaks.
“God damn beautiful.”  His voice cracks with desire as he takes the sight of you in; burning with pent up need, twitching and writhing with desperation.  “Think it’s time I give you what you need, baby girl.”
You sigh with relief, though the white-hot tension in your core still consumes you, just the promise of release is enough to relax your frenzied senses.
Dean buries his face in your wet heat once more with renewed fervour, reigniting the fuse within you and causing you to crest the mountain of pleasure he had built for you. It bursts within you like a dam, cascading forth in waves of intensity far sharper than anything you have felt before, even with him.  The guttural cry that escapes your throat makes him moan against your flesh.
Just when you think it is starting to fade, Dean slides his fingers into you, changing the sensation altogether, making it deeper and more well-rounded, and you don’t stop coming – or at least you feel like you don’t stop.  When another climax crests you sink below the surface of the surging force he’s creating within you.
You reach out, fisting your fingers in his hair, not to draw him closer but to pull him away as his ministrations on your clit become too intense.  He chuckles as he rises, looking down at you with a devout reverence you had never seen from him before.  It shakes you but it doesn’t last long, his grip changes and so does his expression, becoming more focused and hungrier.
He looms over you, his arousal making a mount Everest-like peak in the topography of his underwear and abdomen, its dark peak a sign of just how hungry he is for you.
“I need you, Dean.”  You reach for him and gasp out as he curls his fingers more ruthlessly inside you.  Tears form in your eyes.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”  He groans when you bear down around his fingers.  “So sweet, so tight, so… sexy.”
You go to protest, to tell him you’re none of those things but he doubles his pace, working his hand in and against you more frantically, bringing forth an explosion of pleasure that wipes the words from your brain.
“That’s my girl,” he praises when you spasm around his fingers once more, your slick coating more of his hand.  “Show me how you’re gonna wreck me when I finally put my cock in you.”
When you come this time, your back arches and you’re forced to close your eyes tight.  You shake and wimper in the aftershocks and Dean withdraws his hand, smoothing soft caresses up and down your thighs and you are overwhelmed by the sheer power of it.  He has never taken you like this before, never reduced you to a speechless mess.
Dean sits on the couch and pulls you to him, stroking your hip and back, your arm and thigh and then, when the shaking subsides, your face.  He brushes back your hair, tilting your chin up so he can lay a gentle kiss on your lips.
“Don’t you ever question how beautiful you are,” he says firmly.  “I’m not the kind of guy who hangs around if he don’t want to, you know that.”
You nod, “I know but-”
“Ain't no buts,” he takes your had and lowers it to his straining hard cock.  “I want you too, always have. See?”
You smile deviously, the idea of edging him like he did to you is becoming more and more appealing.  You stroke him firmly, sitting up to flash him sultry smile, licking your lips as you lower yourself towards him.
The way you kiss the tip has his head falling back against the couch, the slow swirl of your tongue makes fists of his hands in the cushions.
“You, know,” he says breathily, “before I met angels, I would have said you were one – jesusmaryandjoseph -” he moans low and throaty.
“Mmm-hmmm.”  You mumble with him in your mouth, sucking him in deeper, goading him to continue.
“But now…,” he swallows hard, licking his suddenly dry lips, “now I think you’re the devil.”
You chuckle deeply at the idea that you’re more of a tease than he is.  After what he just did to you, no less.  The notion that Dean Winchester, of all people, wants you is something you still don’t fully accept but every day he keeps showing you it’s true.  Every day he’s there with you is one more day you’re thankful that he showed up on your doorstep with his cheap suit and the promise of a different future.
94 notes · View notes
Text
He is our angel of vengeance, he just has a puppy side🥰
Thanks for the reblogs ⚘ I'm glad you're enjoying my Dean catalog. I plan to add more because i love him so much😁
Before I Met Angels - Pt 1 - Then...
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus!Fem!Reader
Summary: Dean Winchester arrived on your doorstep with his cheap suit and the promise of a ghost-free future. Playing pretend love interest left you both with something a little more lingering than the ghost.
Words: 2.5k
A/N: This was born of a Nonny request for some oral smut and some insecurity/comfort (which is Part 2) but I couldn't not write the back story so here it is. I hope you enjoy.
Warnings: Canon-typical action/adventure, talk of ghosts and dead people, canon typical violence, profanity, some sexual tension, kissing, and a bit of softness.
***MINORS DO NOT ENTER OR INTERACT***
Tumblr media
Dean Winchester had been in your house for over two weeks now, having arrived on your doorstep with his brother Sam after a handful of men in your town had mysteriously died.  It had started a little over two years ago with your boyfriend, Danny, who had died of a heart attack moments before you were going to sleep together for the first time.  Six months ago, other men who you had started dating or who had asked you out started dying as well, their hearts exploded in their chests.
When Dean showed up, it was in a cheap suit and an FBI badge, and the promise of a future without whatever was plaguing you.  It quickly became apparent that he and Sam weren’t really FBI when they started laying lines of salt around your house and carrying your old fire poker or your cast iron skillet around with them.  With talk of ghosts and other supernatural things, you learned that the Winchester brothers were hunters of those things that went bump in the night, guardian angels, if you will, for all who were afflicted by such things.
“I’m no guardian angel, sweetheart.  I’ve met some of ‘em though.”  He replied when you said this to him.   “They’re assholes, lemme tell ya.”
You had laughed but the concept of angels existing wasn’t something you had been prepared for.  But really, how could you be prepared for any of this?
Over the course of the first few days, Dean and Sam staked out your house, taking readings with a strange whining piece of equipment that Sam explained read ghost energy.  The prognosis: your house was haunted, but the ghost remained elusive.
“Maybe it only goes after people I want to be romantic with?”  You fielded, after a discussion about the house’s history.  “You said yourselves that all of the people who died of that exploding heart thing had been people I’d been dating or about to date.”
“You could have a point,” Sam said thoughtfully.  “So we just need to replicate that scenario.”
“You saying I got to get frisky up in here?”  Dean quizzed and you blushed, feeling awkward about suggesting he do something he clearly wouldn’t enjoy.
“I mean, I could…”  Sam began to offer but Dean carried on talking.
“Alright, I got this.”  He nodded at you with a smirk that you couldn’t read at all.  “Let’s get this done.”
He decided that snuggling on the couch would be a good start and see if that prompted the ghost to appear.  The first day, nothing happened, but Dean came back every evening and tried again.  Each night he and Sam came back around sunset and you made them dinner.  Each night Dean would sit back on the sofa with his arm around you and you would snuggle into him as you watched TV; Dr Sexy was his favourite show.  Sam waited either in the car or in a room upstairs as if he was a guest.
Gradually you two settled into a routine where small gestures of affection began to creep into your behaviours:  Dean would stroke his hand down your back to settle on your hip as he passed you in the kitchen, and you would absently touch his forearm when you spoke to him.  It only took a couple of days, but you completely fell under his spell – fake though your interactions were supposed to be.
You couldn’t deny the attraction you felt for him, he was way beyond anything in your league but every time he touched you he lit a fire in you.  Every soft smile, every glance, every time he held you against him on the couch at night was fuel for that fire.  He seemed to enjoy your company but he was just doing his job, simply acting out a role to bring an end to the whole haunting thing.  The haunting thing that didn’t seem to be happening, or so you thought until last night.
Curled up on the couch with Dean for what was the twelfth night in a row, you had started to fall asleep with his arm draped around you, his fingers drawing abstract patterns on the skin of your arm.
“This doesn’t seem to be working,” he said after the re-run of Dr Sexy had finished.  “I think maybe we need to kick things up a gear.  Whadd’ya say?”
You didn’t know what he had in mind but you were a little drowsy and so far in over your head that you simply nodded, receiving a bright grin as a reply.
“You tell me to stop and I’ll stop, okay?”  He whispered into your ear, his lips brushing against you as he nuzzled your neck, inhaling your scent just below your ear.  “Mmmm, you smell fantastic.”  He spoke at normal volume, clearly this was a show to get the ghost to present itself.
You sighed as he kissed your neck, and when his hand snuck under the hem of your top you stiffened, pushing a hand against his chest as if to stop him.
“Relax, sweetheart.  I’ll be good to you, I promise.”
You stroked his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath and wondered how his skin felt.  When your fingers slipped under his shirt and danced across his bare abs he inhaled sharply, pulling back from his attention on your neck to look at you.
There was a hunger there in his eyes, and he leaned forward to kiss you.  You sighed as his lips met yours, so deeply absorbed in how he made you feel that you didn’t realise the temperature in the room was falling.  His tongue slipped into your mouth and he cupped your face to kiss you properly.  You moaned deeply, succumbing to the heat pooling down in your core.  It was so easy to believe this was real.
“Atta girl,” he whispered when he pulled back.  “You’re doing so well.”
“I’ve never been kissed like that before.”  You practically mewled.
“Well I’m going to do it one more time and then I’m going to ask you to follow me, okay?”
Anywhere.  You nodded as he pulled you to your feet and cradled your face in his hands.  His second kiss was consuming but still slow and measured.  He stroked his hands down your sides and up under your shirt, stroking the skin of your waist and back, and pulling you tight against him.
“I wanna have you so bad,” he said, breathless, resting his forehead on yours but very aware of the changes in the room.  “To be continued….”  He whispered, leading you up the stairs to the guest room where Sam was hiding.
“Dean!”  Sam yelled.  “Hurry it up.”
“I know, Sammy!”  He yelled back.  “We’re on our way.”
The air was charged with static.  You could feel it bristling the hairs on your skin like a bad thunder storm about to happen.  Ahead of you on the stairs, you saw Dean’s rear as he led you quickly by the hand.  Glancing behind, you saw a glitchy shape of a man which bore the face of your dead boyfriend, Danny.
“Danny?”  You couldn’t believe what you were seeing.
“It’s the dead boyfriend!”  Dean said to Sam as you both crossed the salted threshold of the guest bedroom.
“I thought he was killed by the ghost first.”
“So did we.”  Sam said with a frown, looking at Dean in confusion.  “And he was cremated already so what the hell are we gonna do now?”
Dean turned you to face him, tearing your eyes away from the ghost that waited on the far side of the salt boundary.
“Do you have anything of his that could be tying him to this plane?  Lock of hair?  Blood stain somewhere maybe?”
“I don’t know,  Maybe.”  You wracked your brain for anything you had kept of his.  “He gave me a locket early on in our relationship that I never really wore, but after he died I couldn’t just throw it away.  He said it was a keepsake but it’s just got a photo of us in it.”
“That’s got to be it.”  Sam said.  “Where is it?”
“In my bedroom.  Jewellery box.”
“I’ll get it,” Sam rushed to the door, “he’s after Dean, not me.”
Once Sam crossed the salt with his iron fire poker, Danny’s ghost attacked.  It knocked Sam against the wall, hard, and sent him skidding back into the room.  The line of salt was broken and Danny’s ghost came for Dean.
“Goddamnit!  You need to get outa here” Dean said, brows raised, almost begging.
“But he’s going to kill you.”
Maybe if you could reason with Danny, he would just leave.  Maybe if you asked him to move on to wherever ghosts went, that he would see you were ok without him.
“He’s gonna try.”  Dean scooped up his shotgun, pumped it and stepped up beside you.
“Danny, please listen to me.”  You tried to reason with the spirit of your dead boyfriend.  “You don’t need to do this.  Please don’t do this.”
The ghost advanced, paying little heed to anyone except Dean.  His eyes, so filled with malice and hatred, never left the hunter.  For a second, you thought maybe you could stand between them and be safe but the closer the spectre got, the more you realised that he was too far gone.  Unreachable.
“Run!”  Dean pushed you aside and lifted the shotgun, aiming it right at Danny’s chest.
You backed up against the wall and skirted along it as Danny advanced on Dean.  You had to find the locket, but what were you supposed to do with it when you had it?
In your room, you fumbled with the clasp on your jewellry box, dropping the box on the floor.  Chains and earrings spilled out, jumbling up together, snagging into a knot as you tried to pull Danny’s locket free.
The booming sound of the shotgun was deafening.  It was so loud you felt it in your chest cavity and the shock of it made you feel dizzy.  Dean could be heard goading the ghost, taunting it to come and get him before the gun went off again.
In the doorway, Sam appeared looking a little worse for wear.  You held the jumble of gold and silver up to him, panicked that you couldn’t separate them.
“What do I do?”
“We have to burn it.”
“I can’t separate them.”
“Then we burn it all.”
Sam snatched up the metal trashcan and you dumped the twisted clump on top of the paper.  A generous squirt of fuel and a book of matches later and the whole can was ablaze.
Danny’s ghost appeared, in flame, moving towards you as if to claim you but Sam pulled you out of the way as the last of the flames consumed the spirit, leaving behind whisps of smoke.
Dean was sat on the floor of the guest room, bruised and bashed but very much alive.  He gave you a grateful smile and a nod as he got his breath back.  When he stood he hugged you, rubbing both of your arms to soothe you, and kissed the top of your head.
“I think we got him,” Dean said as he stood on your porch ready to head back to the motel for the night.  “But if it’s alright with you, I wanna do one more night to make sure we haven’t missed anything.  Tomorrow?”
You had thought you would never see him again once your haunting was taken care of, but when presented with an opportunity to spend one more evening cuddling Dean Winchester, how could you refuse.  The thought of being alone that night was overwhelming but you felt pathetic asking him and Sam to stay with you.
“I think that’s a good idea,” you smiled weakly, hoping you didn’t seem too needy or too eager to have his hands on you again.  When he had kissed you, it had made you burn with desire for him, and now you couldn’t let go of that heat.  The memory of ‘to be continued’ played whirligig in your stomach.
“Alright, sweetheart.  We’ll see you again tomorrow.”
Dean stepped off the porch and down into your yard before you crumbled under the weight of your emotions.
“Wait!”
He and Sam stopped and turned, Dean looking at you with worry, Sam with sympathy.
“Would you stay with me tonight?”  You felt embarrassed to ask, but the words were out now.  “I don’t want to be alone.”
Dean shuffled his feet, looking at Sam somewhat awkwardly before returning his gaze to you.  His smile was strained, as if he didn’t know how to let you down gently.
“Tell you what,” Sam cut the silence, “I’ve got some research to do anyway, and we missed a call from Jodie, so I’ll head back to the motel and I’ll swing back around tomorrow and pick you up.”
“Sounds like a plan.”  Dean patted Sam’s shoulder and followed you back into the house where you both settled on the couch as was your routine.
The sound of the TV blended into the background, secondary to the steady but quick thu-thump of your own heartbeat and the whoosh of your pulse in your ears.  The couch was soft beneath you, perfectly contrasting the firmness of the man you were partially wrapped around.
Dean looked down at you, catching you looking up at him from under your eyelashes.
“If you keep lookin’ at me that way, that ‘to be continued’ is gonna happen a lot sooner that you think.”  He said with a cocksure smirk.
You grinned, reaching up to slide your fingers over the stubble of his cheek, guiding him so you could lay your lips on his.
Dean sighed through his nose as he delved into your kiss, his arms slipping around you to hold you tight against him.
Whatever chemistry you two had generated over the past couple of weeks was sure to fizzle out once you’d both gotten it out of your systems.  Him acting like he was interested in you, all the affectionate touches he had coached himself to give during that time, the closeness you both had engineered over that time.  It was all bound to drain away, but in the meantime you closed your eyes and succumbed to the desire burning in your chest that told you to have him while you could.
And as Dean sunk himself into you on the soft couch with the TV playing Dr Sexy in the background, you didn’t care if it was just one time, you didn’t care if he would be gone tomorrow, or the next day.  As he sighed your name and made you feel amazing, you knew you would keep this memory forever.  The night you loved your guardian angel.
Read Part Two...?
67 notes · View notes
Text
100% same! I'm so obsessed with him right now I'm considering taking out my own retraining order just to give him a break from being on my mind 🤣🤣🤣
Cherry Pie Kiss
Slice Three
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: You're cornered and chased by Bartholomew's minions. Separated from Sam and Cas, you and Dean make a run for it. Lust finds you both when you're finally safe. Dean rocks your world.
Words: 3.4k
A/N: This is smutty part 3 of what's now looking like a longer series since I've settled on a cute, fluffy and smutty part 4. At this point I don't think I'll ever be sated in my need for this man but Im so not sorry about it 😂
I do hope you enjoy part 3. If you haven't read parts 1 and 2 check out the Cherry Pie Kiss Masterlist. As always, I value your comments and feedback. Drop a dime and let me know what you think.
Warnings: Smut. Canon-typical action/adventure. Running for your lives. Bit of angst.
*** 18+ Minors Do Not Read or Interact ***
Tumblr media
Dean Winchester.  You hate him.  His stubbornness and stoic grace.  His tenacity and faith that, no matter what, you guys will get it done if you stick together.  The way his eyes pierce you down to your soul when he stares.  At least that’s what you try to tell yourself, hoping that others will believe it too.  Truth is, you’re just as stubborn as he is, holding onto this façade when hatred is so far from what you feel.
Dean sits behind Baby’s wheel, having stormed away from the Gas’n’Sip in frustration.  His eyes follow your every move and your body language as you and Sam try to convince Cas, for the umpteenth time, to come with you.  Dean had taken it personally when Cas had refused, and after several attempts at reasoning, bargaining, and begging, Dean had given up, choosing to sit out any further attempts at persuasion.
You look over at the black Impala with its radiant chrome and glossy darkness.  The man inside looks away out to road not wanting the hurt, so plain on his face, to be seen.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” you say to Sam, touching his forearm gently as he continues to reason with the fallen Angel.
You feel compelled to at least try to comfort Dean.  Since you two had talked that night in the dingy room-only motel out in Crocker, you had maintained a stable yet strained connection.  You had still been pissed at him for using you and Sam as bait so you had sent him back to his room with another kiss and the promise of “when I’m ready”.  Since then, you two had never been alone for more than a few minutes; there was always Sam, or witnesses, or monsters.
Dean’s head snaps your way when you pull the door open, his face schooled into that smooth mask he wears when he’s hurt but unwilling to be vulnerable.  Cas’s decision has really hit him hard.
Sliding in the passenger side, you angle yourself towards him and reach to take one of his hands which is picking at the fingernails of his other.  Ordinarily, you wouldn’t risk such a gesture but with Sam a couple of hundred meters away and the height of the dash to obscure it, you’re not worried.
Dean allows the contact, his head hanging.  “Cas made his choice.”  His voice is low and gravelly with emotion.
“Doesn’t mean he can’t change his mind.”  You reason, trying not to throw fuel on the fire.
“He knows where I am if he does.”  He states, matter of fact.  “I’m not wasting another breath on him.”
“He’s your best friend.”
“You’re my best friend.”  Dean looks at you and squeezes your hand which is entwined with his, resting on his thigh.  “You and Sam.”
“I’m just some girl you want to fuck.”  You chuckle, and Deans lips quirk a subtle smirk briefly before he replies.
The words don’t come out, however.  Dean catches movement at the side of the Gas’N’Sip, and he drops your hand to turn over the engine, thrusting the heel of his other hand on Baby’s horn as he does so.
Sam and Cas look in your direction and then see the four figures walking quickly and with purpose, coming between them and the Impala.  Shit!  Angels.  Bartholomew’s minions, no doubt.  How have they found you again?
“Son of a bitch!”  Dean hisses, cranking the car into drive, kicking up stones in the gravel lot as the wheels spin, gaining traction to take you to Sam and Cas.
You fumble your seatbelt, sliding on the seat and right into Dean with a grunt as he swerves to avoid a blacked-out Escalade that grinds to a halt between you and your friends.
Sam and Cas are already on the move, running fast towards the gold Lincoln pimpmobile Cas had somehow acquired, Sam waving Dean off as they scramble into the car and peel out of the lot before the Angels could reach them.  You, however, are stuck.  With the Escalade and four fallen angels between you and the lot exit, Dean turns the wheel, locking it out and put his foot on the gas, spinning the car around with an horrific noise from the tyres.  At the back of the lot is a chainlink fence with a gate that leads to a dirt road which split in two, one branch heading to the highway, the other into scrubland that precedes a dense-looking woodland.  You can lose them in the trees.
Dean winces as he ploughs baby through the chainlink gate, lamenting the damage that is sure to be done, and turns the car towards the highway.
“We can lose them in the trees,” you cry, point to the woods.
“Baby doesn’t have the ground clearance for it,” Dean says roughly, manoeuvring the car through a side-on skid with the heel of his hand on the wheel and his other hand gripping the side of the seat to stop himself from sliding as the car spins.  Once straight, he slams his food on the gas and burns rubber onto the tarmac, heading in the opposite direction to Sam and Cas.
You know he’s right about the car.  The Escalade is 4x4 and sits high which gives it the advantage off road in the woods when the trail inevitably turns to a glorified hiking path.  You’re not even sure the highway is a much better option given that Baby is an older, classic car, but you know Dean keeps her in tip-top shape and she’s got a lot of power under her hood.  That being said, the Escalade could be seen in the rearview, weaving through traffic to catch up to you.
The shrill ring of your phone makes you jump as you try to focus on the road and on what’s behind.  You need to be a second set of eyes for Dean while he’s pushing Baby to create some distance from the Escalade.
“Hey, Sam!”  You sigh with relief, reading his name on your display, putting him on speaker.
“This is Castiel,” the former Angel’s flat tone carries from the phone.  “Sam is driving.  He said I’m too slow.”
You grin big.  That’s a classic Winchester brother thing to do.  From the corner of your eye you see Dean smirk.
“Just tell them we’re headed west and haven’t been followed.”  Sam sighed with mild frustration.
“Damn it’s good to hear your voice, Sammy!”  Dean spoke loudly in that extra deep tone he uses when he is running on adrenalin.  You know he left Cas out because he is still hurt, but you also know he’s glad Cas is safe too.
“We’re headed in the opposite direction,” you explain.  “The vehicle followed us and we’re trying to shake them but they’re keeping up.”
“Pretty soon we’ll run out of traffic, and on the open road we’ll never lose them.”  Dean frowns as he hunts in the rearview for your pursuers.
“Maybe you can head into the wilderness, hole up and set traps.”  Sam offers.  “We can turn around and try to catch up.”
“No!”  Dean snaps.  “You’re both safe.  I want you to stay that way.  Get someplace and lay low.  We’ll get this done and I’ll call you, ok?”
“Dean…”  Cas begins to speak but Dean is having none of it.
“I said No!  Okay?  For once, just do what I say.  We’ve got this.”
You hang up the phone without waiting for a response.  You can see how worked up Dean is, his brain running overtime as he tries to figure out a plan while he’s trying to evade Bartholomew’s lackies on a road full of other cars.
The satellite map on your phone shows a complex set of junctions several miles up ahead where this road meets and crosses with two interstates, branching off in multiple places to service a small city surrounded by a cluster of smaller towns.  It looks promising and Dean agrees.
The junction of the roads has raised on and off ramps that weave in and around the support structures of the main interstate, with frontage roads servicing the branches at intervals.  Traffic is heavy and Dean follows a newer model black Cady onto the interstate by one of the on-ramps, only to cut across the lanes harshly and slip onto a skewed off-ramp, hoping the Escalade will follow the newer Cady.  Slowing down at the end of the off-ramp, he turns to take the frontage road in the opposite direction, heading slowly up the on-ramp for the interstate carriage way going back in the direction from which you had come, so as not to rejoin too soon and be spotted on the other side.
You check all around as soon as you crest the on-ramp back onto the road, praying you don’t see the black government-style vehicle.  Dean doesn’t wait to find out, he puts his foot down and puts a few eighteen wheelers between you and whatever is behind you.
“I think we’re clear,” you say after about fifteen minutes of hypervigilance.
“Don’t jinx it, sweetheart.”  Dean keeps his eyes on the road, the wheel clasped in two white-knuckled fists.
Switching from the interstate to a smaller road and then to another road but still taking you away from where Sam and Cas had headed, Dean starts to relax.  He chances a look at you, to find you looking right back.  The tension in his neck and jaw haven’t melted away yet but he doesn’t have that hard look of focused fury that he usually does when in fight or flight mode.  He doesn’t say anything and neither do you, but the glances between you become more frequent as though you’re both checking on each other to make sure the other is okay, needing to visually check each time.
A sign by the side of the road identifies the beautiful landscape to your left as Black Water Natural Forest, and with the sun beginning to set behind the mountains in the distance, it seems a good place to wait out the sunset.  You point to the sign and Deans nods.  He doesn’t argue, knowing you need a place to park-up off road away from prying eyes to get your bearings and make a plan to meet up with your friends.
As the road gets narrower and the trees get more dense, Dean slows the car, casting furtive glances at you.  It’s making your skin burn, the way he looks at you now, with that hunger in his eyes.  You feel it too.  Weeks of tension built between you, and todays threat to your lives now culminating in a deep need for some kind of release.  You lick your lips, breathing shallow and quick as you try to regain your composure, but Dean isn’t doing much better.  You look at him fully and he all but moans when he sees the look in your eye.
A turn off presents itself that leads to a small muddy lot where hikers can park their cars when they venture out into the forest.  Dean brings Baby to a stop so hard your seatbelt catches you, then he yanks it into park and fumbles for the seal lever.  You unclip your belt as the front seat slides back fully and he reaches for you, helping you straddle his lap.
You waste no time, kissing him fervently as you unbutton your shirt while he tries to push it from your shoulders before it’s open.  Breaths are gasps released between kisses, tongues touching, tasting and tempting more passion, and you succumb to the frenzy of heat that’s born of your need to feel something other than fear.  Your need to feel him.
You’re both a mess of fumbling hands and sloppy kisses as clothes are shucked and skin exposed.  You try to stand, your legs either side of his as you unbutton your jeans and he unclasps his belt.
The loud sound of the Impala’s horn echoes out amongst the trees, startling birds so they take wing and both of you into stillness and silence.
Dean looks at you with panic but then grins and laughs, reaching to tug your jeans down your legs until they’re bunched up around your boots.
It’s awkward but you can still straddle him like this and, as you kneel back onto the black leather seat, he lifts his hips to grind himself impatiently against you.  The desperation in your eyes is matched by the eagerness in his.  He is rapt, eyes absorbing the sights and sounds of your body and of your pleasure as you grind yourself against him.  Your slicked pussy drenching his cock as you slide yourself along his length but deny him entry just when his tip catches at your entrance.
Dean fondles your breasts, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your skin until he reaches your hardening peaks.  His kisses become more suckling then, nibbling them and flicking them firmly with his tongue until you’re almost shaking above him.
“You ready for me?”  You ask, breathless.
“Sweetheart,” he treats you to his classic sultry smirk, “I’ve been ready for you since you moved in.”
You grin, knowing he’s been jonesing for you for that long.  Truth be told, you’d wanted him for longer but the hate you made yourself feel for him was an adequate distraction from it.
Biting your lip, you reach between you, taking his wet shaft in hand and positioning it at your entrance.  Your eyes met as you began to skink down on him, inching down in a shallow rocking motion with Dean stroking your hips and waist as you work at it.  He resists the urge to thrust up into you at first, allowing you to get accustomed to him.
When you bottom him out, he presses down on your hips firmly, lifting his just enough to give you a deep pleasurable pressure that has you groaning and your eyes rolling back.
You are tight despite being very wet, and the way you squeeze him has him twitching heavily against your walls.
“Fuck…”  he groans as you begin to move, leaning back slightly so he hits all the right spots inside you.
“I’m not going to last long,” you laugh breathily.
“No problem,” Dean says, his hands gripping your hips hard, helping you ride him a little faster now.  “We’ll get you for two.”
He doesn’t even have to reach down to stroke your clit, you come all by yourself, grinding on him with a sexy roll of your hips he knows should be good for you, your clit rubbing against his soft hair.  He can feel you spasming and clenching around him and it feels like heaven, even better than warm cherry pie hitting his taste buds.
“You feel freaking amazing.”  He growls, pulling you forward to suckle on the delicate skin of your neck.
“Right back at’cha,” you sigh against pleasure.
He rolls you to the side, and lays you on your back on the seat, still buried in you to the hilt.  Looking down at your heated face, your skin glowing from your orgasm, Dean thinks you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, with a possible exception of Baby.  Okay, you’re the most beautiful living thing he’s ever seen.
Looking up at Dean, his brow creased in concentration, his eyes dark with lust, you don’t think you have ever been turned on by anyone as much as this man.  Damn, he’s hot!  Riding the adrenaline of the chase, you had been desperate for an outlet.  Now that is out of your mind, you lose yourself in the man between your thighs, you’re focused solely on the feeling of him buried deep, and the rising tide of pleasure.  The windows steam up as you grind and roll your bodies together, and you think you might combust from the heat of him.
When he meets and holds your gaze, your heart almost stops.  There you see more than just lust, more than just the passion between you.  It’s deep and hidden, secret almost, and it surfaces as affection that softens his eyes.  You reach up to stroke his face as his grinding hips keep their measured pace and he leans into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand, closing his eyes with a tender sigh.
His vulnerability in that moment lances electricity to your core and you spasm powerfully around him.  His eyes flash open and he sees you’re close again but he doesn’t grin cockily like he might have done earlier, instead he leans down to kiss you, leaning his forehead on yours as you grip the back of his neck and look into his gorgeous eyes.  With your other hand on his hip, sliding round to his ass you guide the speed and depth of his thrusts and you roll your hips to meet his.
As you guide him to slow down he thinks he’ll lose the pleasure he’s cultivated so far but he can now feel more of you and it’s more intense because it’s slow and prolonged.  He almost laughs at how it changes everything and he gasps with surprise when he starts to feel his orgasm coming.  He knows he needs to pull out but you hold him on place with your hands and your heels.
“Give me everything,” you moan as you feel him swell.  “I need to feel you, nice and deep.”
Dean groans with pleasure watching your eyes sparkle with heat for him.
“I want it,” you almost beg.  “Want you.”
He nods, biting his lip as bends to your desire.
Spurred on by your permission, Dean thrusts deeper until he bottoms out, moaning your name as he comes deep inside you.  Your walls contract as he fills you, your climax a deep rolling pleasure that courses your whole body.  Everything feels so right, he feels right.  The way you two fit, the way he makes you feel.  It’s like a low-key destiny you’re more than willing to succumb to.
Dean doesn’t just pull out and get off you once you’re both done, he flips you so your lay on his chest.  There he holds you and strokes you back and hips, your hair and your face until you lift your head to look at him.  Then he smirks cockily and you swat his chest.
“You don’t have to look so smug about it,” you chastise him.
“Hey, I keep my promises,” he says with that trademark smirk playing on his plush lips.  “Would’a give you more but we’re kinda on the run here, sweetheart.”
“You can owe me, how ‘bout that?”  You push yourself up and try to find your clothes.
He grins at the confirmation that this isn’t just a one-time deal.  “Hell yeah!  Sign me up.”
You clean up with wipes from your travel bag as Dean calls Sam.  You watch the relieved interaction from the front fender of Baby while Dean paces in the dirt a few meters away.  You apply some flavoured lip balm to your kiss bruised lips as he works out the logistics of meeting up and what to do about Bartholomew.
After the call, Dean beelines straight for you, sliding his hands around your waist and burying his face in your neck, kissing playfully.
“I take it we’ve got a few hours at least until we can meet Sam and Cas.”  You thread your fingers through his messy hair, trailing your fingernails over his scalp which he seems to really like.
“Several.”  He says against your delicate skin.
“Whatever are we gonna do to pass the time?”  You smile as you picture the pair of you fucking all over his car.
“I can think of a few things,” he surfaces with a hungry look, leaning back in to kiss you.
Your soft lips claim his once more as you melt into his arms, the kiss heated and full of need.  Dean kisses you with such force it steals your breath and makes your knees weak, and when he pulls back he looks at you thoughtfully.  Licking his lips and tasting you on them, he grins.
“Cherry,” his eyes go to your lips again, “I like it.”
Dean’s talented tongue makes you forget any quip you might have said, as he lifts you onto Baby’s hood and keeps his promise.
159 notes · View notes
Text
He is the tastiest of pies 😋
Cherry Pie Kiss
Slice Two
Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader
Summary: Out on the hunt, out of state and out of options; with your life on the line, Dean makes a call you're not happy with. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he brings a peace offering.
Haven't read Part One? - Catch up here.
Words: ~3.5k
A/N: This is part 2 of 3 of what started as a short one shot, but someone asked for another slice of pie so I'm here to deliver. There isn't any smut in this part (its all going to be in part 3 😂) but there are graphic depictions of gore, violence and death which is why I ask minors not to read or interact. Reader is female but generic, and obviously has feelings but is kind of stuck in this hate to love him type thing which carries on from part 1. I hope you enjoy the read and are ready for the goonfest and gratuitous smut coming in part 3.
Warnings: gore, death and gruesome depictions of canon-type violence, profanity as standard for my work, bit of angst, bit of fluff right at the end.
***Minor do not read or interact***
Tumblr media
Dean Winchester.  You hate him.  His saviour complex, his unwavering strength, the way he’s so damn selfish though not in the ways that count… But boy, can he wear a pair of jeans.  Phew-ee!
You hate that you can’t stop looking at him, leaning on the jukebox of the bar you’re in, feeding it quarters in exchange for some feel-good tunes.  Ugh!  Asshole!
Tonight had been a tough night.  Even Sam was feeling the burn.  Out on the hunt, out of state and out of options, the three of you had played a Hail Mary and it had paid off.  Those damn vamps had just kept on coming.  Sam was down and you were in a bad way with what felt like a hoard of those fuckers piling into the abandoned factory to make a meal out of you all.  Starting out, you had all been so sure that you had this little group in the bag but, as per usual with these goddamn things, the plan didn’t pan out.
Dean had dragged you and a semi-conscious Sam into a tight space between the machines.  One way in, one way out.  You were both toast if you were found and of course you would be found; the vamps had your scent.
Groggily, you watched dean uncoil something from his pocket and string it across the opening at about neck height.
“Guitar string.”  He winked at you as if this idea was the best idea he had ever had and should have been plan A from the start.
“We’re fucking bait?”  You hissed furiously.  No, surely not?  Dean would never use his brother as bait.  Would he?  “Goddamn asshole!”  You snarled with as much vitriol you could muster between your gasping breaths and painful ribs.
He just gave you that weary look he had been wearing for the past hour and shrugged his shoulders before pulling out his machete and hiding himself out of sight.  “Get ready.”
You brandished your blade and hauled yourself to your feet, ready to fight.  There was no point wasting any more breath insulting him.  If you got out of this alive, you would have plenty of opportunity to call him all the names under the sun.  IF you got out alive.
The first vamps that found you came rushing in, right down the tight alley framed by the large machinery and with a sharp twang, Dean’s trap garrotted them straight through, taking their heads clean off.  Of the next three, the wire took the first two but the third approached cautiously despite you calling him to come get you.
Dean ran out from his hiding place and attacked the vamp from behind, slashing at the guy’s thick neck twice in order to cut all the way through.  As the body fell you saw why the vamp had stopped – the trap had remnants of flesh and blood along it from its previous victims making it easier to see.  You wiped your sleeve along it to clean the bits of hanging flesh off making it almost invisible again. Dean gave you an impressed nod.
Another two vamps fell to the wire but the last one got snagged as she fell, snapping it and making it useless.  Well, it was a good idea while it lasted, you thought.
It took you two a little while longer to attract the remaining few vamps who obviously knew something was up.  Sam was in no fit state, still groaning on the ground.  You were weak and in a lot of pain but you kept swinging your blade, struggling to breathe let alone stand.
The fight had been brutal and both you and Dean were covered in blood by the time it was over.  You were on your knees, slumped over a vamp you had had to hack into to remove the head, your blade surely blunt by now.  You were ready to close your eyes and give up when Dean pulled you to your feet.
“C’mon,” he said gruffly, “up and at’em.”  Helping you out over the pile of decapitated bodies, he hauled a now mostly conscious Sam through the mess.
You had made it to the Impala and, for once, Dean hadn’t grumbled about getting blood on Baby’s seats but throwing a couple blankets down instead.  Sam slumped in the front while you crawled in the back, weary and sore.  Your eyes met Dean’s in the rearview mirror but yours flicked away immediately, unable to look at him without getting angry.  When you looked back so did he, like he knew you’d be looking, and held on, asking if you were okay without actually asking.  If he really cared he wouldn’t have used you as bait.
You let your head fall back onto the seat and closed your eyes frustrated by his dichotomy.
After a while on the road, Dean turned the radio on, breaking the silence which opened the door for you to say what was on your mind.  Sam hadn’t been bothered one bit by the fact that Dean had used you both as bait, but you were furious.
“It worked, didn’t it?”  Dean snapped, frustrated by your anger.
“I hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah, you and a whole long list of other people.  Aint nothin’ new.”
Around five miles out of Crocker, Missouri, Dean pulled into a truck stop complex which had a convenience store, gas station, diner, a small motel and a dive bar.  The dawn was still hours away and the need for a couple of hours sleep in a comfortable bed was showing on all three of you.  Sam was the cleanest so he made the arrangements; two rooms because there was no way you were sharing a room with that asshole after what he did.  You were just as likely to fuck him out of anger as fight him at that point.
You used the showers in the truck stop to clean off all the blood and get into some clean clothes, relishing in the feel of the warm water and decent water pressure.  You felt a slight pang of guilt that someone would likely be picking vamp chunks out of the drain in the next couple of days but it passed quickly, it probably wasn’t the worst thing these truck stop attendants had seen over the years.
Refreshed by the shower and a take-out burger from the diner, you decided you needed a drink or five, which sounded good to Sam and Dean – you all deserved it.
So, here you are, several drinks in, pounding another tequila shot, trying not to stare at Dean Winchester’s ass while Sam bids you goodnight and takes himself off to one of the two rooms you had paid for at the run-down motel on site.
It seems as if you’re not the only one with an eye for a firm ass in tight Wranglers; a scantily clad barfly sidles up to Dean and strokes her hand down his back as he plugs his final song into the jukebox.  When her hand reaches that ass of his, he straightens and turns, grinning at her with that look you know means he’s going to ride her all the way to dawn.
You can’t watch this.  You don’t have the stomach for it, not tonight.  You pound your remaining two shots and eat the lime slice, peel and all.  Then you’re up off your stool and pushing past Dean and his lady friend, and out into the night where the air cools your heated skin but not your confusing emotions.
In the second of the two rooms, you look at your bruised face and neck in the mirror.  No wonder he didn’t look twice at you, you’re a mess.  It shouldn’t pain you like it does to think of him with another woman.  He asked once and you said no, so that is the end of that.  Plus, you hate him, can’t forget that.  Still, it gives you some small satisfaction that he now has no empty room to take his new friend to so he’ll have to bang her in Baby, on the bloody blankets.  With a spiteful smirk you flop on the bed and fall into a light disturbed sleep.
A loud knock on the door wakes you up with a start.  At first you don’t know where you are.  So used to your room in the bunker, you had almost forgotten what it feels like to sleep that first night in a new place, never truly resting for fear of attack.  It’s only an hour or so since you left the bar and you’re groggy from the tequila and from the waking.
You don’t turn on the lights when you go to the peephole, looking out with your pistol muzzle pushed up against the flimsy wood door.  Dean sways on the other side, his head turned as though he’s listening.
“Sam’s in the other room,” you call, clicking the safety back onto your pistol.
“I know,” he grumbles, “open up.  I got something.”
“It can wait until the morning.”
“Can’t wait,” it sounds muffled, “owwww!” he hisses.
“What the hell,” you sigh, sliding the chain and turning the handle.
Dean stumbles in with his mouth shaped like an “O” as he slides two bowls onto the unit next to the TV, shaking his hands afterwards as if burned.  You close the door and engage the chain out of habit.
“Got you something.”  He grins goofily, obviously much more drunk than you had left him in the bar, and you wonder what happened to the barfly.  Surely the womanizing Dean Winchester hadn’t banged and dropped her in that short a time?
“It’s two in the morning, Dean.”  You wipe a hand down your tired face, lifting your eyes again to see him handing you one of the bowls from the diner.
“Peace offering.”  He says with a smile as he pushes the hot ceramic into your hands, his eyes glistening with mirth and the effects of all the whiskey he shot back earlier.
You look at what he brought you and your heart almost stops.  It’s a steaming hot piece of cherry pie, drizzled in a large puddle of vanilla custard just the way you like it.  You look at his, with his tiny dollop of cream just the way he likes it, and you can’t help but smile.
“Why?”  You ask as you sit on the edge of the bed with him in the chair by the TV, the bowl in your hand, spoon loaded with goodness.
He finishes chewing a piece of the hot pie, sucking in air to cool it in his mouth before he replies.  “I know you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” you admit too quickly but the words are out now whether he believes them or not.
“And I know it’s my fault,” he looks at you with those eyes, “I shouldn’t have made things awkward from day one.  So, I’m sorry about that.”
“Thank you.”  You never thought you would ever hear Dean Winchester apologise, or what you would say in return.
“I didn’t know how to take the rejection,” he sighed heavily, “especially not from someone I have this amazing chemistry with, y’know?  But that’s on me.”
What great chemistry did Dean think he had with you?  All the years you had known him, you’d harboured a bit of a crush on him but he always acted like you were one of the guys.  When you two crossed paths it had felt effortless to slip into the old camaraderie but he treated you like a sister, a fellow hunter, until you had shown up on his radar this time covered in blood and all kinds of messed up and he’d gotten all pissed and… ohhhh.
“You were right all those years ago when you said hunters shouldn’t get close,” he continues, “I should’ve listened and never asked that question.”
You remember the conversation clearly.  It was something you had said because you thought it was what he wanted to hear from you.  Younger and more naïve, you had thought that what he wanted was for you to be like one of the guys so you had said the words and hoped that you could remain where you were with him, always close but never at risk of blowing everything.  Over time you had begun to regret that decision, and as soon as he started acting like an asshole it had been easy to trade the feelings you had for ones of resentment.
“I wish I never said it.  I didn’t realise what I would be losing when I asked.”   He looks at you again, beseechingly.  “Do you think we can start again?  Be friends like before?”
You think about it for a moment but the more you think the surer you are that you can’t go back.  You can’t know these things and have these experiences and go back to the beginning.
“No, Dean, I don’t think we can.”  Your words are soft but the devastation in his eyes is sharp and painful.
You stand, placing your untouched bowl on the bedside table, and walk towards him.  His bowl is empty now, but there’s a little piece of pie left on his spoon when you take it from him.  He’s confused but follows your every movement with a mixture of sadness and reverence.
The pie is sweet on your tongue and the way his eyebrows raise when your lips close around the spoon brings a cheeky glint to your eyes.  You sit on his knee, wrapping one arm around his shoulders while the other pulls the now clean spoon past your lips.  You swallow with a sigh.  His hands go to your hip and thigh to steady you as he looks up at you.
You dip your head slowly and he tilts up to meet you, his eyes flicking between yours and your mouth.  He tastes sweet just like you do when you lay your lips on his, a soft kiss that is both the testing of waters and the soothing of sharp emotions.  He squeezes your thigh tighter for a brief moment and you pull back to see the questioning look on his face.
“But you said…”
You shush him with a finger laid over his lips.  “I know what I said.”
“Then what did you mean?”  He swallows hard, licking his lips nervously afterwards as if you’re about to pull the rug out from under him.
“I wish I’d said yes.”
135 notes · View notes
Text
It's definitely a bonus after effect of having the delicious pie that he gets some attention from Cherry even if she's mad at him 🤣
Cherry Pie Kiss
Slice One
Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader
Summary: The pie thief has struck again. You know who it is but how to prove it? The answer is on the tip of his tongue.
Words: ~900
A/N: So this is SPN fic number two. The idea of Dean being such a pie fiend that he would steal someone else's pie from the fridge and deny it afterwards, really amused me. I obviously didn't get the desire to kiss him out of my system after the first SPN fic I wrote so here's another one 😂 It's not smut but there is mild adult themes which is why I ask minors not to read or interact. Reader is as generic as I can make but I have referenced as female. I hope you enjoy, and as always, I value your feedback and comments 💖
Warnings: kissing, mild violence, bad language as standard. Dean is an asshole. Reader is a bit of an asshole too. They're probably made for each other.
*** Minors do not read or interact ***
Tumblr media
Dean Winchester.  You hate him.  His arrogance, his smug superiority, the way he always acts like he’s untouchable… his goddamn pretty mouth.  Ugh!  Asshole!
You didn’t always hate him – you had known him for years, one hunter to another – but, since you had been forced to stay with both he and Sam in the bunker these last couple of months, he had really grated on your nerves. 
After your hunt of a large nest of vampires had gone wrong, you had become the hunted.  Your home decimated, your family too precious to put at risk by you staying with them; you had needed help.
Sam had insisted, so you agreed to stay with them until your vamp problem could be solved.  Only the nest turned out to be much bigger and far wider spread than you had first thought, and it was taking time for even the infamous Winchester brothers to put an end to.
The light in the refrigerator is stark as you stare inside.  It’s gone.  You slam the door, raging internally.  Why can you not have anything to yourself in this goddamn place?
“DEAN!”  You shout angrily at the top of your lungs, knowing he can hear you from his room down the hall, even with his music playing.
He won’t respond to you.  He never does.  Why should he?  You’re just some girl he’s got to put up with for a while.  Some girl he made a pass at that first week you were here, but you shut him down and he’s been an asshole to you ever since.
You storm up to his door and bray your fist against the wood as hard as you can.  “I know you’re in there!  Get your ass out here now!”  You shout and hammer your fist against the door until you hear him moving inside.
The door clunks as he unlocks it, and it swings open to reveal him stood in the doorway in a navy blue robe and slippers.  The light from his lamp is dim but warm, his music a moderate volume for the late hour.  He looks irritated that you’ve disturbed him, that quizzical frown and pout are a dead giveaway.  Good.
“What’s got your panties in a twist?”  He smirks at you.
“You!”  You push past him, and he doesn’t try to block you.
“What now?”
This isn’t the first time you’ve had this argument and it probably won’t be the last.  Whenever Sam isn’t around, Dean always does something to piss you off, like he’s trying to bait you.
“You ate my pie!  AGAIN!”
His expression is schooled into that self-righteous assuredness it always is when you confront him.  His hands go to his hips – which looks ridiculous because of the robe – and he shifts his weight onto his other foot.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”  He says with a frown, and it’s entirely plausible that you’ve made a mistake, except it’s just the two of you here and you didn’t eat the damn pie.  “I haven’t seen any damn pie.”
“Oh yeah?!”  You square up to him, looking up into his eyes, unblinking, unphased.
“Yeah!”  He doubles down, firmly meeting your stare, leaning closer as if you would be intimidated by that.
It’s a short distance you need to cover and he is unprepared.  You expect him to push you away but he flounders, arms flailing and uncoordinated when you grip the lapels of his robe and pull him towards you.
When your lips meet he puckers up and blinks in shock, but you don’t give him time to realise what’s happening.  You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him tight as you slip your tongue between his lips, plundering his mouth.
It takes a beat, but he responds by gripping your hips and holding you against him, moaning into your mouth as he opens up to you.  The heat of his response takes you by surprise, but it shouldn’t have, really.  He’d wanted this since the first few days you were here.  Wanted you.
You ravage his mouth, your hands in his hair, making it messy as you practically melt into his arms.  His tongue plays perfectly with yours, his lips soft and yielding.  Dean Winchester is an exceptional kisser.  This fact makes you hate him even more.
As you pull back, breathless, Dean grins at you.  He looks happy and care-free, like the cat that got the cream.  Your face, however, holds a scowl.
“What’s wrong, darlin’?”  His expression changes to concern.
You lick your lips and it’s just as you thought, the sweet buttery goodness of pie crust and the pleasant tartness of sour cherry.  You slap him across the face – not hard but just enough to get his attention – and stride to the door leaving him confused.
“What the hell?!”  He rounds on you, his arousal tenting his robe.
“Don’t you dare eat my pie again.”
You leave your warning hanging in the air along with his frustration.  A smirk playing on your lips at the sight you had just left behind you; Dean Winchester with kiss-swollen lips and a hard-on for you.  It isn’t the worst thing you’ve seen but you still hate him, even if there’s now something else there along side it. 
310 notes · View notes
crushedbyhyperbole · 2 days
Text
Tumblr media
Not Star Wars but I couldn’t help but feel some nostalgia for early SPN the other day…
1K notes · View notes
crushedbyhyperbole · 2 days
Text
Overshirt with sleeves rolled up... 🤤 just ravage me now please 🥵
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
obsessed with this outfit
1K notes · View notes
crushedbyhyperbole · 2 days
Text
This is rather cute. I have a wrist strain i could really use Deans attention on. Do you think he wild kiss it better for me too?☺
Concern
Relationship: Dean Winchester/Reader; Dean Winchester/Original Female Character
Rating: Teen and up
Word Count: 632
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Reader, Fluff
Summary: Maybe she can hide her feelings for Dean, but she can't hide her (mild) injury from him.
48 notes · View notes
crushedbyhyperbole · 3 days
Text
Hey! Thank you so much for reading ⚘ I'm really glad you've enjoyed this so far. I've enjoyed writing Dean and "Cherry" a lot and it brings me joy to see you guys loving the ride. Thanks again.
Cherry Pie Kiss Masterlist
Tumblr media
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader
Series Trope: Frenemies to lovers - please read individual chapter warnings.
Slice One ® - The pie thief has struck again. You know who it is but how to prove it? The answer is on the tip of his tongue.
Slice Two ® * - Out on the hunt, out of state and out of options; with your life on the line, Dean makes a call you're not happy with. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he brings a peace offering.
Slice Three ® + - You're cornered and chased by Bartholomew's minions. Separated from Sam and Cas, you and Dean make a run for it. Lust finds you both when you're finally safe. Dean rocks your world.
Slice Four - Coming Soon
Tumblr media
A/N:  + denotes 18+ smut  |  * denotes violence, death or disturbing themes  |  ® is a reader insert  |  ~ denotes a WIP
129 notes · View notes
crushedbyhyperbole · 3 days
Text
Yep! Stick a fork in me... I'm done! 🥵☠
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Dean drinks tongue first.
That's it.
That's the whole post.
37 notes · View notes
crushedbyhyperbole · 3 days
Text
Thank you love! I'm buzzing you loved it - I may be doing a little happy dance over here 😁
Part 4 I'm planning on cute fluffy and smutty. Can't say there won't be any more slices of pie after that, I just don't know what my Dean crazed brain will supply. Though I've decided reader's nickname definitely should be Cherry 🍒
Cherry Pie Kiss
Slice Three
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: You're cornered and chased by Bartholomew's minions. Separated from Sam and Cas, you and Dean make a run for it. Lust finds you both when you're finally safe. Dean rocks your world.
Words: 3.4k
A/N: This is smutty part 3 of what's now looking like a longer series since I've settled on a cute, fluffy and smutty part 4. At this point I don't think I'll ever be sated in my need for this man but Im so not sorry about it 😂
I do hope you enjoy part 3. If you haven't read parts 1 and 2 check out the Cherry Pie Kiss Masterlist. As always, I value your comments and feedback. Drop a dime and let me know what you think.
Warnings: Smut. Canon-typical action/adventure. Running for your lives. Bit of angst.
*** 18+ Minors Do Not Read or Interact ***
Tumblr media
Dean Winchester.  You hate him.  His stubbornness and stoic grace.  His tenacity and faith that, no matter what, you guys will get it done if you stick together.  The way his eyes pierce you down to your soul when he stares.  At least that’s what you try to tell yourself, hoping that others will believe it too.  Truth is, you’re just as stubborn as he is, holding onto this façade when hatred is so far from what you feel.
Dean sits behind Baby’s wheel, having stormed away from the Gas’n’Sip in frustration.  His eyes follow your every move and your body language as you and Sam try to convince Cas, for the umpteenth time, to come with you.  Dean had taken it personally when Cas had refused, and after several attempts at reasoning, bargaining, and begging, Dean had given up, choosing to sit out any further attempts at persuasion.
You look over at the black Impala with its radiant chrome and glossy darkness.  The man inside looks away out to road not wanting the hurt, so plain on his face, to be seen.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” you say to Sam, touching his forearm gently as he continues to reason with the fallen Angel.
You feel compelled to at least try to comfort Dean.  Since you two had talked that night in the dingy room-only motel out in Crocker, you had maintained a stable yet strained connection.  You had still been pissed at him for using you and Sam as bait so you had sent him back to his room with another kiss and the promise of “when I’m ready”.  Since then, you two had never been alone for more than a few minutes; there was always Sam, or witnesses, or monsters.
Dean’s head snaps your way when you pull the door open, his face schooled into that smooth mask he wears when he’s hurt but unwilling to be vulnerable.  Cas’s decision has really hit him hard.
Sliding in the passenger side, you angle yourself towards him and reach to take one of his hands which is picking at the fingernails of his other.  Ordinarily, you wouldn’t risk such a gesture but with Sam a couple of hundred meters away and the height of the dash to obscure it, you’re not worried.
Dean allows the contact, his head hanging.  “Cas made his choice.”  His voice is low and gravelly with emotion.
“Doesn’t mean he can’t change his mind.”  You reason, trying not to throw fuel on the fire.
“He knows where I am if he does.”  He states, matter of fact.  “I’m not wasting another breath on him.”
“He’s your best friend.”
“You’re my best friend.”  Dean looks at you and squeezes your hand which is entwined with his, resting on his thigh.  “You and Sam.”
“I’m just some girl you want to fuck.”  You chuckle, and Deans lips quirk a subtle smirk briefly before he replies.
The words don’t come out, however.  Dean catches movement at the side of the Gas’N’Sip, and he drops your hand to turn over the engine, thrusting the heel of his other hand on Baby’s horn as he does so.
Sam and Cas look in your direction and then see the four figures walking quickly and with purpose, coming between them and the Impala.  Shit!  Angels.  Bartholomew’s minions, no doubt.  How have they found you again?
“Son of a bitch!”  Dean hisses, cranking the car into drive, kicking up stones in the gravel lot as the wheels spin, gaining traction to take you to Sam and Cas.
You fumble your seatbelt, sliding on the seat and right into Dean with a grunt as he swerves to avoid a blacked-out Escalade that grinds to a halt between you and your friends.
Sam and Cas are already on the move, running fast towards the gold Lincoln pimpmobile Cas had somehow acquired, Sam waving Dean off as they scramble into the car and peel out of the lot before the Angels could reach them.  You, however, are stuck.  With the Escalade and four fallen angels between you and the lot exit, Dean turns the wheel, locking it out and put his foot on the gas, spinning the car around with an horrific noise from the tyres.  At the back of the lot is a chainlink fence with a gate that leads to a dirt road which split in two, one branch heading to the highway, the other into scrubland that precedes a dense-looking woodland.  You can lose them in the trees.
Dean winces as he ploughs baby through the chainlink gate, lamenting the damage that is sure to be done, and turns the car towards the highway.
“We can lose them in the trees,” you cry, point to the woods.
“Baby doesn’t have the ground clearance for it,” Dean says roughly, manoeuvring the car through a side-on skid with the heel of his hand on the wheel and his other hand gripping the side of the seat to stop himself from sliding as the car spins.  Once straight, he slams his food on the gas and burns rubber onto the tarmac, heading in the opposite direction to Sam and Cas.
You know he’s right about the car.  The Escalade is 4x4 and sits high which gives it the advantage off road in the woods when the trail inevitably turns to a glorified hiking path.  You’re not even sure the highway is a much better option given that Baby is an older, classic car, but you know Dean keeps her in tip-top shape and she’s got a lot of power under her hood.  That being said, the Escalade could be seen in the rearview, weaving through traffic to catch up to you.
The shrill ring of your phone makes you jump as you try to focus on the road and on what’s behind.  You need to be a second set of eyes for Dean while he’s pushing Baby to create some distance from the Escalade.
“Hey, Sam!”  You sigh with relief, reading his name on your display, putting him on speaker.
“This is Castiel,” the former Angel’s flat tone carries from the phone.  “Sam is driving.  He said I’m too slow.”
You grin big.  That’s a classic Winchester brother thing to do.  From the corner of your eye you see Dean smirk.
“Just tell them we’re headed west and haven’t been followed.”  Sam sighed with mild frustration.
“Damn it’s good to hear your voice, Sammy!”  Dean spoke loudly in that extra deep tone he uses when he is running on adrenalin.  You know he left Cas out because he is still hurt, but you also know he’s glad Cas is safe too.
“We’re headed in the opposite direction,” you explain.  “The vehicle followed us and we’re trying to shake them but they’re keeping up.”
“Pretty soon we’ll run out of traffic, and on the open road we’ll never lose them.”  Dean frowns as he hunts in the rearview for your pursuers.
“Maybe you can head into the wilderness, hole up and set traps.”  Sam offers.  “We can turn around and try to catch up.”
“No!”  Dean snaps.  “You’re both safe.  I want you to stay that way.  Get someplace and lay low.  We’ll get this done and I’ll call you, ok?”
“Dean…”  Cas begins to speak but Dean is having none of it.
“I said No!  Okay?  For once, just do what I say.  We’ve got this.”
You hang up the phone without waiting for a response.  You can see how worked up Dean is, his brain running overtime as he tries to figure out a plan while he’s trying to evade Bartholomew’s lackies on a road full of other cars.
The satellite map on your phone shows a complex set of junctions several miles up ahead where this road meets and crosses with two interstates, branching off in multiple places to service a small city surrounded by a cluster of smaller towns.  It looks promising and Dean agrees.
The junction of the roads has raised on and off ramps that weave in and around the support structures of the main interstate, with frontage roads servicing the branches at intervals.  Traffic is heavy and Dean follows a newer model black Cady onto the interstate by one of the on-ramps, only to cut across the lanes harshly and slip onto a skewed off-ramp, hoping the Escalade will follow the newer Cady.  Slowing down at the end of the off-ramp, he turns to take the frontage road in the opposite direction, heading slowly up the on-ramp for the interstate carriage way going back in the direction from which you had come, so as not to rejoin too soon and be spotted on the other side.
You check all around as soon as you crest the on-ramp back onto the road, praying you don’t see the black government-style vehicle.  Dean doesn’t wait to find out, he puts his foot down and puts a few eighteen wheelers between you and whatever is behind you.
“I think we’re clear,” you say after about fifteen minutes of hypervigilance.
“Don’t jinx it, sweetheart.”  Dean keeps his eyes on the road, the wheel clasped in two white-knuckled fists.
Switching from the interstate to a smaller road and then to another road but still taking you away from where Sam and Cas had headed, Dean starts to relax.  He chances a look at you, to find you looking right back.  The tension in his neck and jaw haven’t melted away yet but he doesn’t have that hard look of focused fury that he usually does when in fight or flight mode.  He doesn’t say anything and neither do you, but the glances between you become more frequent as though you’re both checking on each other to make sure the other is okay, needing to visually check each time.
A sign by the side of the road identifies the beautiful landscape to your left as Black Water Natural Forest, and with the sun beginning to set behind the mountains in the distance, it seems a good place to wait out the sunset.  You point to the sign and Deans nods.  He doesn’t argue, knowing you need a place to park-up off road away from prying eyes to get your bearings and make a plan to meet up with your friends.
As the road gets narrower and the trees get more dense, Dean slows the car, casting furtive glances at you.  It’s making your skin burn, the way he looks at you now, with that hunger in his eyes.  You feel it too.  Weeks of tension built between you, and todays threat to your lives now culminating in a deep need for some kind of release.  You lick your lips, breathing shallow and quick as you try to regain your composure, but Dean isn’t doing much better.  You look at him fully and he all but moans when he sees the look in your eye.
A turn off presents itself that leads to a small muddy lot where hikers can park their cars when they venture out into the forest.  Dean brings Baby to a stop so hard your seatbelt catches you, then he yanks it into park and fumbles for the seal lever.  You unclip your belt as the front seat slides back fully and he reaches for you, helping you straddle his lap.
You waste no time, kissing him fervently as you unbutton your shirt while he tries to push it from your shoulders before it’s open.  Breaths are gasps released between kisses, tongues touching, tasting and tempting more passion, and you succumb to the frenzy of heat that’s born of your need to feel something other than fear.  Your need to feel him.
You’re both a mess of fumbling hands and sloppy kisses as clothes are shucked and skin exposed.  You try to stand, your legs either side of his as you unbutton your jeans and he unclasps his belt.
The loud sound of the Impala’s horn echoes out amongst the trees, startling birds so they take wing and both of you into stillness and silence.
Dean looks at you with panic but then grins and laughs, reaching to tug your jeans down your legs until they’re bunched up around your boots.
It’s awkward but you can still straddle him like this and, as you kneel back onto the black leather seat, he lifts his hips to grind himself impatiently against you.  The desperation in your eyes is matched by the eagerness in his.  He is rapt, eyes absorbing the sights and sounds of your body and of your pleasure as you grind yourself against him.  Your slicked pussy drenching his cock as you slide yourself along his length but deny him entry just when his tip catches at your entrance.
Dean fondles your breasts, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your skin until he reaches your hardening peaks.  His kisses become more suckling then, nibbling them and flicking them firmly with his tongue until you’re almost shaking above him.
“You ready for me?”  You ask, breathless.
“Sweetheart,” he treats you to his classic sultry smirk, “I’ve been ready for you since you moved in.”
You grin, knowing he’s been jonesing for you for that long.  Truth be told, you’d wanted him for longer but the hate you made yourself feel for him was an adequate distraction from it.
Biting your lip, you reach between you, taking his wet shaft in hand and positioning it at your entrance.  Your eyes met as you began to skink down on him, inching down in a shallow rocking motion with Dean stroking your hips and waist as you work at it.  He resists the urge to thrust up into you at first, allowing you to get accustomed to him.
When you bottom him out, he presses down on your hips firmly, lifting his just enough to give you a deep pleasurable pressure that has you groaning and your eyes rolling back.
You are tight despite being very wet, and the way you squeeze him has him twitching heavily against your walls.
“Fuck…”  he groans as you begin to move, leaning back slightly so he hits all the right spots inside you.
“I’m not going to last long,” you laugh breathily.
“No problem,” Dean says, his hands gripping your hips hard, helping you ride him a little faster now.  “We’ll get you for two.”
He doesn’t even have to reach down to stroke your clit, you come all by yourself, grinding on him with a sexy roll of your hips he knows should be good for you, your clit rubbing against his soft hair.  He can feel you spasming and clenching around him and it feels like heaven, even better than warm cherry pie hitting his taste buds.
“You feel freaking amazing.”  He growls, pulling you forward to suckle on the delicate skin of your neck.
“Right back at’cha,” you sigh against pleasure.
He rolls you to the side, and lays you on your back on the seat, still buried in you to the hilt.  Looking down at your heated face, your skin glowing from your orgasm, Dean thinks you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, with a possible exception of Baby.  Okay, you’re the most beautiful living thing he’s ever seen.
Looking up at Dean, his brow creased in concentration, his eyes dark with lust, you don’t think you have ever been turned on by anyone as much as this man.  Damn, he’s hot!  Riding the adrenaline of the chase, you had been desperate for an outlet.  Now that is out of your mind, you lose yourself in the man between your thighs, you’re focused solely on the feeling of him buried deep, and the rising tide of pleasure.  The windows steam up as you grind and roll your bodies together, and you think you might combust from the heat of him.
When he meets and holds your gaze, your heart almost stops.  There you see more than just lust, more than just the passion between you.  It’s deep and hidden, secret almost, and it surfaces as affection that softens his eyes.  You reach up to stroke his face as his grinding hips keep their measured pace and he leans into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand, closing his eyes with a tender sigh.
His vulnerability in that moment lances electricity to your core and you spasm powerfully around him.  His eyes flash open and he sees you’re close again but he doesn’t grin cockily like he might have done earlier, instead he leans down to kiss you, leaning his forehead on yours as you grip the back of his neck and look into his gorgeous eyes.  With your other hand on his hip, sliding round to his ass you guide the speed and depth of his thrusts and you roll your hips to meet his.
As you guide him to slow down he thinks he’ll lose the pleasure he’s cultivated so far but he can now feel more of you and it’s more intense because it’s slow and prolonged.  He almost laughs at how it changes everything and he gasps with surprise when he starts to feel his orgasm coming.  He knows he needs to pull out but you hold him on place with your hands and your heels.
“Give me everything,” you moan as you feel him swell.  “I need to feel you, nice and deep.”
Dean groans with pleasure watching your eyes sparkle with heat for him.
“I want it,” you almost beg.  “Want you.”
He nods, biting his lip as bends to your desire.
Spurred on by your permission, Dean thrusts deeper until he bottoms out, moaning your name as he comes deep inside you.  Your walls contract as he fills you, your climax a deep rolling pleasure that courses your whole body.  Everything feels so right, he feels right.  The way you two fit, the way he makes you feel.  It’s like a low-key destiny you’re more than willing to succumb to.
Dean doesn’t just pull out and get off you once you’re both done, he flips you so your lay on his chest.  There he holds you and strokes you back and hips, your hair and your face until you lift your head to look at him.  Then he smirks cockily and you swat his chest.
“You don’t have to look so smug about it,” you chastise him.
“Hey, I keep my promises,” he says with that trademark smirk playing on his plush lips.  “Would’a give you more but we’re kinda on the run here, sweetheart.”
“You can owe me, how ‘bout that?”  You push yourself up and try to find your clothes.
He grins at the confirmation that this isn’t just a one-time deal.  “Hell yeah!  Sign me up.”
You clean up with wipes from your travel bag as Dean calls Sam.  You watch the relieved interaction from the front fender of Baby while Dean paces in the dirt a few meters away.  You apply some flavoured lip balm to your kiss bruised lips as he works out the logistics of meeting up and what to do about Bartholomew.
After the call, Dean beelines straight for you, sliding his hands around your waist and burying his face in your neck, kissing playfully.
“I take it we’ve got a few hours at least until we can meet Sam and Cas.”  You thread your fingers through his messy hair, trailing your fingernails over his scalp which he seems to really like.
“Several.”  He says against your delicate skin.
“Whatever are we gonna do to pass the time?”  You smile as you picture the pair of you fucking all over his car.
“I can think of a few things,” he surfaces with a hungry look, leaning back in to kiss you.
Your soft lips claim his once more as you melt into his arms, the kiss heated and full of need.  Dean kisses you with such force it steals your breath and makes your knees weak, and when he pulls back he looks at you thoughtfully.  Licking his lips and tasting you on them, he grins.
“Cherry,” his eyes go to your lips again, “I like it.”
Dean’s talented tongue makes you forget any quip you might have said, as he lifts you onto Baby’s hood and keeps his promise.
159 notes · View notes
crushedbyhyperbole · 4 days
Text
He's one sexy bastard for sure. He's a toy I don't think I can ever put down. Thanks for reading love⚘
Whiskey on the Tongue
Tumblr media
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 ***
Tumblr media
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.
922 notes · View notes
crushedbyhyperbole · 5 days
Text
Hello lovelies, tagging you in part 3 of CPK. Hope you enjoy the smut 🍆
@roseblue373 @zepskies @emilyroxy @idkhowbutifoundyou @ilikw
Cherry Pie Kiss
Slice Three
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: You're cornered and chased by Bartholomew's minions. Separated from Sam and Cas, you and Dean make a run for it. Lust finds you both when you're finally safe. Dean rocks your world.
Words: 3.4k
A/N: This is smutty part 3 of what's now looking like a longer series since I've settled on a cute, fluffy and smutty part 4. At this point I don't think I'll ever be sated in my need for this man but Im so not sorry about it 😂
I do hope you enjoy part 3. If you haven't read parts 1 and 2 check out the Cherry Pie Kiss Masterlist. As always, I value your comments and feedback. Drop a dime and let me know what you think.
Warnings: Smut. Canon-typical action/adventure. Running for your lives. Bit of angst.
*** 18+ Minors Do Not Read or Interact ***
Tumblr media
Dean Winchester.  You hate him.  His stubbornness and stoic grace.  His tenacity and faith that, no matter what, you guys will get it done if you stick together.  The way his eyes pierce you down to your soul when he stares.  At least that’s what you try to tell yourself, hoping that others will believe it too.  Truth is, you’re just as stubborn as he is, holding onto this façade when hatred is so far from what you feel.
Dean sits behind Baby’s wheel, having stormed away from the Gas’n’Sip in frustration.  His eyes follow your every move and your body language as you and Sam try to convince Cas, for the umpteenth time, to come with you.  Dean had taken it personally when Cas had refused, and after several attempts at reasoning, bargaining, and begging, Dean had given up, choosing to sit out any further attempts at persuasion.
You look over at the black Impala with its radiant chrome and glossy darkness.  The man inside looks away out to road not wanting the hurt, so plain on his face, to be seen.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” you say to Sam, touching his forearm gently as he continues to reason with the fallen Angel.
You feel compelled to at least try to comfort Dean.  Since you two had talked that night in the dingy room-only motel out in Crocker, you had maintained a stable yet strained connection.  You had still been pissed at him for using you and Sam as bait so you had sent him back to his room with another kiss and the promise of “when I’m ready”.  Since then, you two had never been alone for more than a few minutes; there was always Sam, or witnesses, or monsters.
Dean’s head snaps your way when you pull the door open, his face schooled into that smooth mask he wears when he’s hurt but unwilling to be vulnerable.  Cas’s decision has really hit him hard.
Sliding in the passenger side, you angle yourself towards him and reach to take one of his hands which is picking at the fingernails of his other.  Ordinarily, you wouldn’t risk such a gesture but with Sam a couple of hundred meters away and the height of the dash to obscure it, you’re not worried.
Dean allows the contact, his head hanging.  “Cas made his choice.”  His voice is low and gravelly with emotion.
“Doesn’t mean he can’t change his mind.”  You reason, trying not to throw fuel on the fire.
“He knows where I am if he does.”  He states, matter of fact.  “I’m not wasting another breath on him.”
“He’s your best friend.”
“You’re my best friend.”  Dean looks at you and squeezes your hand which is entwined with his, resting on his thigh.  “You and Sam.”
“I’m just some girl you want to fuck.”  You chuckle, and Deans lips quirk a subtle smirk briefly before he replies.
The words don’t come out, however.  Dean catches movement at the side of the Gas’N’Sip, and he drops your hand to turn over the engine, thrusting the heel of his other hand on Baby’s horn as he does so.
Sam and Cas look in your direction and then see the four figures walking quickly and with purpose, coming between them and the Impala.  Shit!  Angels.  Bartholomew’s minions, no doubt.  How have they found you again?
“Son of a bitch!”  Dean hisses, cranking the car into drive, kicking up stones in the gravel lot as the wheels spin, gaining traction to take you to Sam and Cas.
You fumble your seatbelt, sliding on the seat and right into Dean with a grunt as he swerves to avoid a blacked-out Escalade that grinds to a halt between you and your friends.
Sam and Cas are already on the move, running fast towards the gold Lincoln pimpmobile Cas had somehow acquired, Sam waving Dean off as they scramble into the car and peel out of the lot before the Angels could reach them.  You, however, are stuck.  With the Escalade and four fallen angels between you and the lot exit, Dean turns the wheel, locking it out and put his foot on the gas, spinning the car around with an horrific noise from the tyres.  At the back of the lot is a chainlink fence with a gate that leads to a dirt road which split in two, one branch heading to the highway, the other into scrubland that precedes a dense-looking woodland.  You can lose them in the trees.
Dean winces as he ploughs baby through the chainlink gate, lamenting the damage that is sure to be done, and turns the car towards the highway.
“We can lose them in the trees,” you cry, point to the woods.
“Baby doesn’t have the ground clearance for it,” Dean says roughly, manoeuvring the car through a side-on skid with the heel of his hand on the wheel and his other hand gripping the side of the seat to stop himself from sliding as the car spins.  Once straight, he slams his food on the gas and burns rubber onto the tarmac, heading in the opposite direction to Sam and Cas.
You know he’s right about the car.  The Escalade is 4x4 and sits high which gives it the advantage off road in the woods when the trail inevitably turns to a glorified hiking path.  You’re not even sure the highway is a much better option given that Baby is an older, classic car, but you know Dean keeps her in tip-top shape and she’s got a lot of power under her hood.  That being said, the Escalade could be seen in the rearview, weaving through traffic to catch up to you.
The shrill ring of your phone makes you jump as you try to focus on the road and on what’s behind.  You need to be a second set of eyes for Dean while he’s pushing Baby to create some distance from the Escalade.
“Hey, Sam!”  You sigh with relief, reading his name on your display, putting him on speaker.
“This is Castiel,” the former Angel’s flat tone carries from the phone.  “Sam is driving.  He said I’m too slow.”
You grin big.  That’s a classic Winchester brother thing to do.  From the corner of your eye you see Dean smirk.
“Just tell them we’re headed west and haven’t been followed.”  Sam sighed with mild frustration.
“Damn it’s good to hear your voice, Sammy!”  Dean spoke loudly in that extra deep tone he uses when he is running on adrenalin.  You know he left Cas out because he is still hurt, but you also know he’s glad Cas is safe too.
“We’re headed in the opposite direction,” you explain.  “The vehicle followed us and we’re trying to shake them but they’re keeping up.”
“Pretty soon we’ll run out of traffic, and on the open road we’ll never lose them.”  Dean frowns as he hunts in the rearview for your pursuers.
“Maybe you can head into the wilderness, hole up and set traps.”  Sam offers.  “We can turn around and try to catch up.”
“No!”  Dean snaps.  “You’re both safe.  I want you to stay that way.  Get someplace and lay low.  We’ll get this done and I’ll call you, ok?”
“Dean…”  Cas begins to speak but Dean is having none of it.
“I said No!  Okay?  For once, just do what I say.  We’ve got this.”
You hang up the phone without waiting for a response.  You can see how worked up Dean is, his brain running overtime as he tries to figure out a plan while he’s trying to evade Bartholomew’s lackies on a road full of other cars.
The satellite map on your phone shows a complex set of junctions several miles up ahead where this road meets and crosses with two interstates, branching off in multiple places to service a small city surrounded by a cluster of smaller towns.  It looks promising and Dean agrees.
The junction of the roads has raised on and off ramps that weave in and around the support structures of the main interstate, with frontage roads servicing the branches at intervals.  Traffic is heavy and Dean follows a newer model black Cady onto the interstate by one of the on-ramps, only to cut across the lanes harshly and slip onto a skewed off-ramp, hoping the Escalade will follow the newer Cady.  Slowing down at the end of the off-ramp, he turns to take the frontage road in the opposite direction, heading slowly up the on-ramp for the interstate carriage way going back in the direction from which you had come, so as not to rejoin too soon and be spotted on the other side.
You checked all around as soon as you crested the on-ramp back onto the road, praying you didn’t see the black government-style vehicle.  Dean didn’t wait to find out, he put his foot down and put a few eighteen wheelers between you and whatever was behind you.
“I think we’re clear,” you say after about fifteen minutes of hypervigilance.
“Don’t jinx it, sweetheart.”  Dean keeps his eyes on the road, the wheel clasped in two white-knuckled fists.
Switching from the interstate to a smaller road and then to another road but still taking you away from where Sam and Cas had headed, Dean starts to relax.  He chances a look at you, to find you looking right back.  The tension in his neck and jaw haven’t melted away yet but he doesn’t have that hard look of focused fury that he usually does when in fight or flight mode.  He doesn’t say anything and neither do you, but the glances between you become more frequent as though you’re both checking on each other to make sure the other is okay, needing to visually check each time.
A sign by the side of the road identifies the beautiful landscape to your left as Black Water Natural Forest, and with the sun beginning to set behind the mountains in the distance, it seems a good place to wait out the sunset.  You point to the sign and Deans nods.  He doesn’t argue, knowing you need a place to park-up off road away from prying eyes to get your bearings and make a plan to meet up with your friends.
As the road gets narrower and the trees get more dense, Dean slows the car, casting furtive glances at you.  It’s making your skin burn, the way he looks at you now, with that hunger in his eyes.  You feel it too.  Weeks of tension built between you, and todays threat to your lives now culminating in a deep need for some kind of release.  You lick your lips, breathing shallow and quick as you try to regain your composure, but Dean isn’t doing much better.  You look at him fully and he all but moans when he sees the look in your eye.
A turn off presents itself that leads to a small muddy lot where hikers can park their cars when they venture out into the forest.  Dean brings Baby to a stop so hard your seatbelt catches you, then he yanks it into park and fumbles for the seal lever.  You unclip your belt as the front seat slides back fully and he reaches for you, helping you straddle his lap.
You waste no time, kissing him fervently as you unbutton your shirt while he tries to push it from your shoulders before it’s open.  Breaths are gasps released between kisses, tongues touching, tasting and tempting more passion, and you succumb to the frenzy of heat that’s born of your need to feel something other than fear.  Your need to feel him.
You’re both a mess of fumbling hands and sloppy kisses as clothes are shucked and skin exposed.  You try to stand, your legs either side of his as you unbutton your jeans and he unclasps his belt.
The loud sound of the Impala’s horn echoes out amongst the trees, startling birds so they take wing and both of you into stillness and silence.
Dean looks at you with panic but then grins and laughs, reaching to tug your jeans down your legs until they’re bunched up around your boots.
It’s awkward but you can still straddle him like this and, as you kneel back onto the black leather seat, he lifts his hips to grind himself impatiently against you.  The desperation in your eyes is matched by the eagerness in his.  He is rapt, eyes absorbing the sights and sounds of your body and of your pleasure as you grind yourself against him.  Your slicked pussy drenching his cock as you slide yourself along his length but deny him entry just when his tip catches at your entrance.
Dean fondles your breasts, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your skin until he reaches your hardening peaks.  His kisses become more suckling then, nibbling them and flicking them firmly with his tongue until you’re almost shaking above him.
“You ready for me?”  You ask, breathless.
“Sweetheart,” he treats you to his classic sultry smirk, “I’ve been ready for you since you moved in.”
You grin, knowing he’s been jonesing for you for that long.  Truth be told, you’d wanted him for longer but the hate you made yourself feel for him was an adequate distraction from it.
Biting your lip, you reach between you, taking his wet shaft in hand and positioning it at your entrance.  Your eyes met as you began to skink down on him, inching down in a shallow rocking motion with Dean stroking your hips and waist as you work at it.  He resists the urge to thrust up into you at first, allowing you to get accustomed to him.
When you bottom him out, he presses down on your hips firmly, lifting his just enough to give you a deep pleasurable pressure that has you groaning and your eyes rolling back.
You are tight despite being very wet, and the way you squeeze him has him twitching heavily against your walls.
“Fuck…”  he groans as you begin to move, leaning back slightly so he hits all the right spots inside you.
“I’m not going to last long,” you laugh breathily.
“No problem,” Dean says, his hands gripping your hips hard, helping you ride him a little faster now.  “We’ll get you for two.”
He doesn’t even have to reach down to stroke your clit, you come all by yourself, grinding on him with a sexy roll of your hips he knows should be good for you, your clit rubbing against his soft hair.  He can feel you spasming and clenching around him and it feels like heaven, even better than warm cherry pie hitting his taste buds.
“You feel freaking amazing.”  He growls, pulling you forward to suckle on the delicate skin of your neck.
“Right back at’cha,” you sigh against pleasure.
He rolls you to the side, and lays you on your back on the seat, still buried in you to the hilt.  Looking down at your heated face, your skin glowing from your orgasm, Dean thinks you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, with a possible exception of Baby.  Okay, you’re the most beautiful living thing he’s ever seen.
Looking up at Dean, his brow creased in concentration, his eyes dark with lust, you don’t think you have ever been turned on by anyone as much as this man.  Damn, he’s hot!  Riding the adrenaline of the chase, you had been desperate for an outlet.  Now that is out of your mind, you lose yourself in the man between your thighs, you’re focused solely on the feeling of him buried deep, and the rising tide of pleasure.  The windows steam up as you grind and roll your bodies together, and you think you might combust from the heat of him.
When he meets and holds your gaze, your heart almost stops.  There you see more than just lust, more than just the passion between you.  It’s deep and hidden, secret almost, and it surfaces as affection that softens his eyes.  You reach up to stroke his face as his grinding hips keep their measured pace and he leans into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand, closing his eyes with a tender sigh.
His vulnerability in that moment lances electricity to your core and you spasm powerfully around him.  His eyes flash open and he sees you’re close again but he doesn’t grin cockily like he might have done earlier, instead he leans down to kiss you, leaning his forehead on yours as you grip the back of his neck and look into his gorgeous eyes.  With your other hand on his hip, sliding round to his ass you guide the speed and depth of his thrusts and you roll your hips to meet his.
As you guide him to slow down he thinks he’ll lose the pleasure he’s cultivated so far but he can now feel more of you and it’s more intense because it’s slow and prolonged.  He almost laughs at how it changes everything and he gasps with surprise when he starts to feel his orgasm coming.  He knows he needs to pull out but you hold him on place with your hands and your heels.
“Give me everything,” you moan as you feel him swell.  “I need to feel you, nice and deep.”
Dean groans with pleasure watching your eyes sparkle with heat for him.
“I want it,” you almost beg.  “Want you.”
He nods, biting his lip as bends to your desire.
Spurred on by your permission, Dean thrusts deeper until he bottoms out, moaning your name as he comes deep inside you.  Your walls contract as he fills you, your climax a deep rolling pleasure that courses your whole body.  Everything feels so right, he feels right.  The way you two fit, the way he makes you feel.  It’s like a low-key destiny you’re more than willing to succumb to.
Dean doesn’t just pull out and get off you once you’re both done, he flips you so your lay on his chest.  There he holds you and strokes you back and hips, your hair and your face until you lift your head to look at him.  Then he smirks cockily and you swat his chest.
“You don’t have to look so smug about it,” you chastise him.
“Hey, I keep my promises,” he says with that trademark smirk playing on his plush lips.  “Would’a give you more but we’re kinda on the run here, sweetheart.”
“You can owe me, how ‘bout that?”  You push yourself up and try to find your clothes.
He grins at the confirmation that this isn’t just a one-time deal.  “Hell yeah!  Sign me up.”
You clean up with wipes from your travel bag as Dean calls Sam.  You watch the relieved interaction from the front fender of Baby while Dean paces in the dirt a few meters away.  You apply some flavoured lip balm to your kiss bruised lips as he works out the logistics of meeting up and what to do about Bartholemew.
After the call, Dean beelines straight for you, sliding his hands around your waist and burying his face in your neck, kissing playfully.
“I take it we’ve got a few hours at least until we can meet Sam and Cas.”  You thread your fingers through his messy hair, trailing your fingernails over his scalp which he seems to really like.
“Several.”  He says against your delicate skin.
“Whatever are we gonna do to pass the time?”  You smile as you picture the pair of you fucking all over his car.
“I can think of a few things,” he surfaces with a hungry look, leaning back in to kiss you.
Your soft lips claim his once more as you melt into his arms, the kiss heated and full of need.  Dean kissed you with such force it stole your breath and made your knees weak, and when he pulled back he looked at you thoughtfully.  Licking his lips and tasting you on them, he grinned.
“Cherry,” his eyes went to your lips again, “I like it.”
Dean’s talented tongue makes you forget any quip you might have said, as he lifts you onto Baby’s hood and keeps his promise.
159 notes · View notes
crushedbyhyperbole · 5 days
Text
Updated
Cherry Pie Kiss Masterlist
Tumblr media
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader
Series Trope: Frenemies to lovers - please read individual chapter warnings.
Slice One ® - The pie thief has struck again. You know who it is but how to prove it? The answer is on the tip of his tongue.
Slice Two ® * - Out on the hunt, out of state and out of options; with your life on the line, Dean makes a call you're not happy with. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he brings a peace offering.
Slice Three ® + - You're cornered and chased by Bartholomew's minions. Separated from Sam and Cas, you and Dean make a run for it. Lust finds you both when you're finally safe. Dean rocks your world.
Slice Four - Coming Soon
Tumblr media
A/N:  + denotes 18+ smut  |  * denotes violence, death or disturbing themes  |  ® is a reader insert  |  ~ denotes a WIP
129 notes · View notes
crushedbyhyperbole · 5 days
Text
Cherry Pie Kiss
Slice Three
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: You're cornered and chased by Bartholomew's minions. Separated from Sam and Cas, you and Dean make a run for it. Lust finds you both when you're finally safe. Dean rocks your world.
Words: 3.4k
A/N: This is smutty part 3 of what's now looking like a longer series since I've settled on a cute, fluffy and smutty part 4. At this point I don't think I'll ever be sated in my need for this man but Im so not sorry about it 😂
I do hope you enjoy part 3. If you haven't read parts 1 and 2 check out the Cherry Pie Kiss Masterlist. As always, I value your comments and feedback. Drop a dime and let me know what you think.
Warnings: Smut. Canon-typical action/adventure. Running for your lives. Bit of angst.
*** 18+ Minors Do Not Read or Interact ***
Tumblr media
Dean Winchester.  You hate him.  His stubbornness and stoic grace.  His tenacity and faith that, no matter what, you guys will get it done if you stick together.  The way his eyes pierce you down to your soul when he stares.  At least that’s what you try to tell yourself, hoping that others will believe it too.  Truth is, you’re just as stubborn as he is, holding onto this façade when hatred is so far from what you feel.
Dean sits behind Baby’s wheel, having stormed away from the Gas’n’Sip in frustration.  His eyes follow your every move and your body language as you and Sam try to convince Cas, for the umpteenth time, to come with you.  Dean had taken it personally when Cas had refused, and after several attempts at reasoning, bargaining, and begging, Dean had given up, choosing to sit out any further attempts at persuasion.
You look over at the black Impala with its radiant chrome and glossy darkness.  The man inside looks away out to road not wanting the hurt, so plain on his face, to be seen.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” you say to Sam, touching his forearm gently as he continues to reason with the fallen Angel.
You feel compelled to at least try to comfort Dean.  Since you two had talked that night in the dingy room-only motel out in Crocker, you had maintained a stable yet strained connection.  You had still been pissed at him for using you and Sam as bait so you had sent him back to his room with another kiss and the promise of “when I’m ready”.  Since then, you two had never been alone for more than a few minutes; there was always Sam, or witnesses, or monsters.
Dean’s head snaps your way when you pull the door open, his face schooled into that smooth mask he wears when he’s hurt but unwilling to be vulnerable.  Cas’s decision has really hit him hard.
Sliding in the passenger side, you angle yourself towards him and reach to take one of his hands which is picking at the fingernails of his other.  Ordinarily, you wouldn’t risk such a gesture but with Sam a couple of hundred meters away and the height of the dash to obscure it, you’re not worried.
Dean allows the contact, his head hanging.  “Cas made his choice.”  His voice is low and gravelly with emotion.
“Doesn’t mean he can’t change his mind.”  You reason, trying not to throw fuel on the fire.
“He knows where I am if he does.”  He states, matter of fact.  “I’m not wasting another breath on him.”
“He’s your best friend.”
“You’re my best friend.”  Dean looks at you and squeezes your hand which is entwined with his, resting on his thigh.  “You and Sam.”
“I’m just some girl you want to fuck.”  You chuckle, and Deans lips quirk a subtle smirk briefly before he replies.
The words don’t come out, however.  Dean catches movement at the side of the Gas’N’Sip, and he drops your hand to turn over the engine, thrusting the heel of his other hand on Baby’s horn as he does so.
Sam and Cas look in your direction and then see the four figures walking quickly and with purpose, coming between them and the Impala.  Shit!  Angels.  Bartholomew’s minions, no doubt.  How have they found you again?
“Son of a bitch!”  Dean hisses, cranking the car into drive, kicking up stones in the gravel lot as the wheels spin, gaining traction to take you to Sam and Cas.
You fumble your seatbelt, sliding on the seat and right into Dean with a grunt as he swerves to avoid a blacked-out Escalade that grinds to a halt between you and your friends.
Sam and Cas are already on the move, running fast towards the gold Lincoln pimpmobile Cas had somehow acquired, Sam waving Dean off as they scramble into the car and peel out of the lot before the Angels could reach them.  You, however, are stuck.  With the Escalade and four fallen angels between you and the lot exit, Dean turns the wheel, locking it out and put his foot on the gas, spinning the car around with an horrific noise from the tyres.  At the back of the lot is a chainlink fence with a gate that leads to a dirt road which split in two, one branch heading to the highway, the other into scrubland that precedes a dense-looking woodland.  You can lose them in the trees.
Dean winces as he ploughs baby through the chainlink gate, lamenting the damage that is sure to be done, and turns the car towards the highway.
“We can lose them in the trees,” you cry, point to the woods.
“Baby doesn’t have the ground clearance for it,” Dean says roughly, manoeuvring the car through a side-on skid with the heel of his hand on the wheel and his other hand gripping the side of the seat to stop himself from sliding as the car spins.  Once straight, he slams his food on the gas and burns rubber onto the tarmac, heading in the opposite direction to Sam and Cas.
You know he’s right about the car.  The Escalade is 4x4 and sits high which gives it the advantage off road in the woods when the trail inevitably turns to a glorified hiking path.  You’re not even sure the highway is a much better option given that Baby is an older, classic car, but you know Dean keeps her in tip-top shape and she’s got a lot of power under her hood.  That being said, the Escalade could be seen in the rearview, weaving through traffic to catch up to you.
The shrill ring of your phone makes you jump as you try to focus on the road and on what’s behind.  You need to be a second set of eyes for Dean while he’s pushing Baby to create some distance from the Escalade.
“Hey, Sam!”  You sigh with relief, reading his name on your display, putting him on speaker.
“This is Castiel,” the former Angel’s flat tone carries from the phone.  “Sam is driving.  He said I’m too slow.”
You grin big.  That’s a classic Winchester brother thing to do.  From the corner of your eye you see Dean smirk.
“Just tell them we’re headed west and haven’t been followed.”  Sam sighed with mild frustration.
“Damn it’s good to hear your voice, Sammy!”  Dean spoke loudly in that extra deep tone he uses when he is running on adrenalin.  You know he left Cas out because he is still hurt, but you also know he’s glad Cas is safe too.
“We’re headed in the opposite direction,” you explain.  “The vehicle followed us and we’re trying to shake them but they’re keeping up.”
“Pretty soon we’ll run out of traffic, and on the open road we’ll never lose them.”  Dean frowns as he hunts in the rearview for your pursuers.
“Maybe you can head into the wilderness, hole up and set traps.”  Sam offers.  “We can turn around and try to catch up.”
“No!”  Dean snaps.  “You’re both safe.  I want you to stay that way.  Get someplace and lay low.  We’ll get this done and I’ll call you, ok?”
“Dean…”  Cas begins to speak but Dean is having none of it.
“I said No!  Okay?  For once, just do what I say.  We’ve got this.”
You hang up the phone without waiting for a response.  You can see how worked up Dean is, his brain running overtime as he tries to figure out a plan while he’s trying to evade Bartholomew’s lackies on a road full of other cars.
The satellite map on your phone shows a complex set of junctions several miles up ahead where this road meets and crosses with two interstates, branching off in multiple places to service a small city surrounded by a cluster of smaller towns.  It looks promising and Dean agrees.
The junction of the roads has raised on and off ramps that weave in and around the support structures of the main interstate, with frontage roads servicing the branches at intervals.  Traffic is heavy and Dean follows a newer model black Cady onto the interstate by one of the on-ramps, only to cut across the lanes harshly and slip onto a skewed off-ramp, hoping the Escalade will follow the newer Cady.  Slowing down at the end of the off-ramp, he turns to take the frontage road in the opposite direction, heading slowly up the on-ramp for the interstate carriage way going back in the direction from which you had come, so as not to rejoin too soon and be spotted on the other side.
You check all around as soon as you crest the on-ramp back onto the road, praying you don’t see the black government-style vehicle.  Dean doesn’t wait to find out, he puts his foot down and puts a few eighteen wheelers between you and whatever is behind you.
“I think we’re clear,” you say after about fifteen minutes of hypervigilance.
“Don’t jinx it, sweetheart.”  Dean keeps his eyes on the road, the wheel clasped in two white-knuckled fists.
Switching from the interstate to a smaller road and then to another road but still taking you away from where Sam and Cas had headed, Dean starts to relax.  He chances a look at you, to find you looking right back.  The tension in his neck and jaw haven’t melted away yet but he doesn’t have that hard look of focused fury that he usually does when in fight or flight mode.  He doesn’t say anything and neither do you, but the glances between you become more frequent as though you’re both checking on each other to make sure the other is okay, needing to visually check each time.
A sign by the side of the road identifies the beautiful landscape to your left as Black Water Natural Forest, and with the sun beginning to set behind the mountains in the distance, it seems a good place to wait out the sunset.  You point to the sign and Deans nods.  He doesn’t argue, knowing you need a place to park-up off road away from prying eyes to get your bearings and make a plan to meet up with your friends.
As the road gets narrower and the trees get more dense, Dean slows the car, casting furtive glances at you.  It’s making your skin burn, the way he looks at you now, with that hunger in his eyes.  You feel it too.  Weeks of tension built between you, and todays threat to your lives now culminating in a deep need for some kind of release.  You lick your lips, breathing shallow and quick as you try to regain your composure, but Dean isn’t doing much better.  You look at him fully and he all but moans when he sees the look in your eye.
A turn off presents itself that leads to a small muddy lot where hikers can park their cars when they venture out into the forest.  Dean brings Baby to a stop so hard your seatbelt catches you, then he yanks it into park and fumbles for the seal lever.  You unclip your belt as the front seat slides back fully and he reaches for you, helping you straddle his lap.
You waste no time, kissing him fervently as you unbutton your shirt while he tries to push it from your shoulders before it’s open.  Breaths are gasps released between kisses, tongues touching, tasting and tempting more passion, and you succumb to the frenzy of heat that’s born of your need to feel something other than fear.  Your need to feel him.
You’re both a mess of fumbling hands and sloppy kisses as clothes are shucked and skin exposed.  You try to stand, your legs either side of his as you unbutton your jeans and he unclasps his belt.
The loud sound of the Impala’s horn echoes out amongst the trees, startling birds so they take wing and both of you into stillness and silence.
Dean looks at you with panic but then grins and laughs, reaching to tug your jeans down your legs until they’re bunched up around your boots.
It’s awkward but you can still straddle him like this and, as you kneel back onto the black leather seat, he lifts his hips to grind himself impatiently against you.  The desperation in your eyes is matched by the eagerness in his.  He is rapt, eyes absorbing the sights and sounds of your body and of your pleasure as you grind yourself against him.  Your slicked pussy drenching his cock as you slide yourself along his length but deny him entry just when his tip catches at your entrance.
Dean fondles your breasts, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your skin until he reaches your hardening peaks.  His kisses become more suckling then, nibbling them and flicking them firmly with his tongue until you’re almost shaking above him.
“You ready for me?”  You ask, breathless.
“Sweetheart,” he treats you to his classic sultry smirk, “I’ve been ready for you since you moved in.”
You grin, knowing he’s been jonesing for you for that long.  Truth be told, you’d wanted him for longer but the hate you made yourself feel for him was an adequate distraction from it.
Biting your lip, you reach between you, taking his wet shaft in hand and positioning it at your entrance.  Your eyes met as you began to skink down on him, inching down in a shallow rocking motion with Dean stroking your hips and waist as you work at it.  He resists the urge to thrust up into you at first, allowing you to get accustomed to him.
When you bottom him out, he presses down on your hips firmly, lifting his just enough to give you a deep pleasurable pressure that has you groaning and your eyes rolling back.
You are tight despite being very wet, and the way you squeeze him has him twitching heavily against your walls.
“Fuck…”  he groans as you begin to move, leaning back slightly so he hits all the right spots inside you.
“I’m not going to last long,” you laugh breathily.
“No problem,” Dean says, his hands gripping your hips hard, helping you ride him a little faster now.  “We’ll get you for two.”
He doesn’t even have to reach down to stroke your clit, you come all by yourself, grinding on him with a sexy roll of your hips he knows should be good for you, your clit rubbing against his soft hair.  He can feel you spasming and clenching around him and it feels like heaven, even better than warm cherry pie hitting his taste buds.
“You feel freaking amazing.”  He growls, pulling you forward to suckle on the delicate skin of your neck.
“Right back at’cha,” you sigh against pleasure.
He rolls you to the side, and lays you on your back on the seat, still buried in you to the hilt.  Looking down at your heated face, your skin glowing from your orgasm, Dean thinks you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, with a possible exception of Baby.  Okay, you’re the most beautiful living thing he’s ever seen.
Looking up at Dean, his brow creased in concentration, his eyes dark with lust, you don’t think you have ever been turned on by anyone as much as this man.  Damn, he’s hot!  Riding the adrenaline of the chase, you had been desperate for an outlet.  Now that is out of your mind, you lose yourself in the man between your thighs, you’re focused solely on the feeling of him buried deep, and the rising tide of pleasure.  The windows steam up as you grind and roll your bodies together, and you think you might combust from the heat of him.
When he meets and holds your gaze, your heart almost stops.  There you see more than just lust, more than just the passion between you.  It’s deep and hidden, secret almost, and it surfaces as affection that softens his eyes.  You reach up to stroke his face as his grinding hips keep their measured pace and he leans into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand, closing his eyes with a tender sigh.
His vulnerability in that moment lances electricity to your core and you spasm powerfully around him.  His eyes flash open and he sees you’re close again but he doesn’t grin cockily like he might have done earlier, instead he leans down to kiss you, leaning his forehead on yours as you grip the back of his neck and look into his gorgeous eyes.  With your other hand on his hip, sliding round to his ass you guide the speed and depth of his thrusts and you roll your hips to meet his.
As you guide him to slow down he thinks he’ll lose the pleasure he’s cultivated so far but he can now feel more of you and it’s more intense because it’s slow and prolonged.  He almost laughs at how it changes everything and he gasps with surprise when he starts to feel his orgasm coming.  He knows he needs to pull out but you hold him on place with your hands and your heels.
“Give me everything,” you moan as you feel him swell.  “I need to feel you, nice and deep.”
Dean groans with pleasure watching your eyes sparkle with heat for him.
“I want it,” you almost beg.  “Want you.”
He nods, biting his lip as bends to your desire.
Spurred on by your permission, Dean thrusts deeper until he bottoms out, moaning your name as he comes deep inside you.  Your walls contract as he fills you, your climax a deep rolling pleasure that courses your whole body.  Everything feels so right, he feels right.  The way you two fit, the way he makes you feel.  It’s like a low-key destiny you’re more than willing to succumb to.
Dean doesn’t just pull out and get off you once you’re both done, he flips you so your lay on his chest.  There he holds you and strokes you back and hips, your hair and your face until you lift your head to look at him.  Then he smirks cockily and you swat his chest.
“You don’t have to look so smug about it,” you chastise him.
“Hey, I keep my promises,” he says with that trademark smirk playing on his plush lips.  “Would’a give you more but we’re kinda on the run here, sweetheart.”
“You can owe me, how ‘bout that?”  You push yourself up and try to find your clothes.
He grins at the confirmation that this isn’t just a one-time deal.  “Hell yeah!  Sign me up.”
You clean up with wipes from your travel bag as Dean calls Sam.  You watch the relieved interaction from the front fender of Baby while Dean paces in the dirt a few meters away.  You apply some flavoured lip balm to your kiss bruised lips as he works out the logistics of meeting up and what to do about Bartholomew.
After the call, Dean beelines straight for you, sliding his hands around your waist and burying his face in your neck, kissing playfully.
“I take it we’ve got a few hours at least until we can meet Sam and Cas.”  You thread your fingers through his messy hair, trailing your fingernails over his scalp which he seems to really like.
“Several.”  He says against your delicate skin.
“Whatever are we gonna do to pass the time?”  You smile as you picture the pair of you fucking all over his car.
“I can think of a few things,” he surfaces with a hungry look, leaning back in to kiss you.
Your soft lips claim his once more as you melt into his arms, the kiss heated and full of need.  Dean kisses you with such force it steals your breath and makes your knees weak, and when he pulls back he looks at you thoughtfully.  Licking his lips and tasting you on them, he grins.
“Cherry,” his eyes go to your lips again, “I like it.”
Dean’s talented tongue makes you forget any quip you might have said, as he lifts you onto Baby’s hood and keeps his promise.
159 notes · View notes
crushedbyhyperbole · 6 days
Text
Updated
Promises Masterlist
Tumblr media
Summary:  Promises, rules and a love so deep it transcends time and distance.  The problem is that Izzy and Bucky are ignorant to each other’s feelings.  What lengths will they go to to protect the one thing the both cherish above all else - their friendship?  Through tumultuous times, misunderstandings, fuck buddy dramas, other relationships, criminal activity, and a whole bunch of emotional hurt… This is their story.
A/N:  Bucky x OFC, fuck buddy AU.  There are no Avengers, no powers, just a pair of childhood friends pining for each other but destroying what they have as they go.  This WIP is going to be looooong.
Additional note:  I’m up to chapter 25 if you want to read this on AO3
Warnings:  Gratuitous smut, so much smut, did I mention smut?  Mutual pining, emotional hurt, NGL I cried writing some of the chapters. Bad language as standard.  18+ only… I can’t stress that enough.
Tumblr media
Chapter One +
Chapter Two *
Chapter Three * 
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven +
Chapter Eight  +
Chapter Nine  +
Chapter Ten  *
Chapter Eleven *
Chapter Twelve  *
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen  +
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter NInteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
(still a WIP)
Tumblr media
Secondary note:  + denotes smut, 18+ only  |  *  denotes hurt/pain, violence, death or content that could disturb or trigger.
104 notes · View notes