arcannaa

[arcannaa]

Copper

Pairing: Demon!Dean x F!Reader

Summary: You're on your period but that doesn't stop Dean from taking what he wants.

Warnings: Mdni. Smut. Period Sex. Oral (F Receiving). Blood play kinda. Pet Names. Demon!Dean (he's a warning). No use of Y/N.

A/N: Got an ask for this a while ago from anon. Slowly catching up on fic requests lol. Not edited well.

masterlist — taglist

The door opens with a heavy creak.

You don’t move. You’re sprawled across the bed in nothing but Dean’s flannel, your bare legs tangled in the cheap motel sheets, heating pad long since gone cold. You’re cramping, tired, and aching in that low, pulsing way you hate.

But none of that matters the moment you hear his boots hit the floor.

He’s back from wherever he went. You gave up asking. You've been with him since he became a demon. Since the Mark made him a demon.

“Hey,” you murmur, voice soft, not turning to look. “Didn’t think you’d be back this early."

Dean doesn’t respond.

You feel it before you see him, that weight in the air, thick with something dark. Something that wasn’t there when he left.

You turn your head and he's just inside the doorway. Silent. Watching you.

And then he breathes in. Long. Deep. Slow. He goes still.

“What is that,” he says, quiet. But it’s not a question. His voice is a low, rough rasp.

His eyes drop to your bare thighs. The flannel shirt bunched around your hips. The tiny smear of red on the inside of your leg.

Then his eyes meet yours, and they flick to that empty, dark, black.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, a slow, wicked smile curling across his lips. “You’re bleeding.”

You sit up quickly. “Dean, wait—”

He pushes you back down, hand going over your mouth to shut you up.

“I can smell it,” he growls, voice going low and gravelly. “The second I walked in. That sweet little tang in the air. Copper and heat and wet.”

He stands back up.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t think you’d—”

“Would what? Say no?” His grin turns sharp. His eyes flick back to his normal green, but still dark with desire. “Fuck no. You think this turns me off?” He stands at the edge of the bed, staring down at you like you’re a feast. “You think I don’t want you like this?”

He’s already pulling off his jacket. Dropping it to the floor.

“I want you more.”

You shift, breath catching, and that’s all it takes. He’s on you in a blink, grabbing your ankles and dragging you down the bed to the edge.

“Dean—"

“You’re ripe,” he growls, kneeling between your legs, shoving the shirt up to your waist. “You’re dripping for me, bleeding for me. Fuck, baby, this pussy’s begging to be fed.”

He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t wait.

His mouth is on you, tongue dragging through your folds, licking the blood and slick like it’s the first real meal he's had in days. He groans like it hurts, fingers digging into your thighs as he spreads you wider.

You gasp, your hips jerking, but he pins them down.

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” he growls against your skin. “You’re gonna let me devour this pretty little pussy. Let me taste what your body’s giving me.”

He eats you like a starving man.

Your hands clutch the sheets, back arching, thighs shaking as he moans into your cunt, tongue fucking you deeper and rougher. The sound of it is obscene. The sounds of slurping, panting, low growls vibrating through your core.

“You taste like sin,” he groans. “Like blood and want and mine.”

You’re falling apart, legs trembling, your breath is ragged as he pushes you over the edge. You cry out, clenching around his tongue, and he doesn’t stop. Just keeps licking, like he’s trying to drink every last drop.

When he finally pulls back, his mouth is soaked. Chin slick with a faint red. He looks dangerous.

You're trying to catch your breath.

Then he’s already unzipping his jeans.

He flips you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips into the air.

“You wrecked already, baby?” he mutters, lining himself up. “I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

He sinks in slow, stretching you open, blood and slick easing the way. You whimper, gripping the sheets as an anchor.

Dean groans in your ear.

“That’s it,” he growls. “Feel that? That’s me claiming you.”

He fucks you deep, steady, skin slapping with every thrust.

"You take me so fuckin' well, my bloody little slut," He growls, hips meeting yours roughly.

He continues moving rough and fast until you're at the edge again, trembling beneath him as you cry out his name. He fucks you through your orgasm.

His orgasm follows as he grinds into you, filling you with his cum.

His cock is still buried inside you, his chest rising and falling with heavy, ragged breaths. His hands are on your hips, holding you wide open, and the sheets beneath you are ruined, streaked in blood and slick and sweat.

Dean pulls out slowly, and the mess between your legs makes him groan.

He stares at your cunt clenching around nothing, dripping his cum, your blood, everything.

“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging a finger through it. Watching the mixture coat his skin. He lifts it to his mouth and licks it clean with a low growl.

He lays down beside you, leaning over to kiss your neck.

“You ever hide this from me again,” he murmurs, voice still dark but quieter now, “I’ll tie you to this bed and make sure you never hide it from me again.”

A/N: We did not get a long enough time with Demon Dean.

tags: @animelucky @mystic-writings @magster196 @soldierboysdoll @caplanbuckybarnes @skywalker0809 @winchesterwild78 @cas-is-my-angel7 @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @mostlymarvelgirl @chevroletdean @waynes-multiverse @sunshinegirlreads

[arcannaa]

Crazy

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x F!Reader

Summary: Jensen is trying to work but you love to drive him crazy.

Warnings: Smut. Oral (M Receiving). Dom!Jensen. Semi-Public (In Front Of Others Without Them Knowing). Rough Sex. Slapping. Some Pet names. No Use Of Y/N.

A/N: We were being very horny in a gc with some friends of mine and we started talking about this scenario, so I had to write it. Also ignore the stupid dates and random words, I just threw like big meeting words in it.

masterlist — taglist

Jensen sat back in his chair, the screen of his laptop casting cool blue light across his face.

He looked effortless — one arm resting on the desk, the other lazily curled near his chin, fingers brushing his jaw while his agent and the showrunner rattled off potential dates for the next month of production.

“We’re tentatively thinking the 10th through the 24th,” the showrunner said. "You good with that?"

“Depends on flights,” Jensen replied, tone smooth, even. “And whether I get a bed that isn’t moving for more than two days.” His voice was calm and professional.

You entered the room without a word.

You didn’t make eye contact. Didn’t speak.

You just sank slowly to your knees and slid beneath the desk between his legs, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body through his joggers.

He didn’t look down.

But his thigh twitched the moment your fingers brushed the inside of it.

Still, he kept talking.

“If we’re going into press immediately after the shoot,” he said, “I want my call times locked by the 5th.”

Your hands slid higher, slow, steady, deliberate.

He clicked mute.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he muttered, low and sharp.

Your mouth was already on him.

You pressed your lips right where he was already starting to harden beneath the soft fabric of his joggers. His hips shifted — reflex, not choice. His knuckles tightened against the desk.

You smiled. And kissed him again.

"You're fucking crazy, y'know that?" He murmured.

You traced the shape of him with your mouth, kissing slow and patient, until he was fully hard and straining against the fabric. Then your fingers hooked his waistband, tugged it down just enough to free him.

Thick. Hot. Already leaking.

You wrapped your hand around him and stroked once, slow and tight.

Then took him into your mouth.

He didn’t breathe for a second. Then he let out a low, harsh exhale and clicked back to unmute.

“If we push press to the week after, I can flex the 29th and 30th,” he said, his voice raspier now, just a hair off. “But I need confirmation by end of day.”

You swallowed him deeper.

His hand slid under the desk and into your hair. Not guiding. Just holding. Anchoring. Like he needed the contact to survive the storm you were pulling him into.

You sucked him slow and deep, your rhythm perfect, your tongue circling with precision. He tried to stay still. Tried to keep the mask on. But his thighs flexed, his hand trembled, and you could feel how badly he wanted to lose control.

Muted again.

“You keep going like that,” he growled, “and I’m gonna cum all over your tongue with three people still watching me.”

You moaned around him.

His cock twitched hard in your mouth.

“You like that?” he said, breath breaking. “Knowing they’re listening while you take me apart under the desk?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Your mouth was too full, too busy wrecking him inch by inch.

He clicked unmute again, barely hanging on.

“Uh...yeah,” he said, voice rough, strained. “I’m good with that.”

No one on the call noticed. They had no idea what was going on beneath the camera.

But you felt everything. The way his muscles tensed, the heat building fast beneath his skin, the way his hips started to roll against your mouth, searching for friction he knew he shouldn’t chase.

Muted.

“Fuck. I’m gonna—”

And then he did.

He came with a stifled groan, hand clamped over his mouth, thighs shaking around you as his cock pulsed his hot cum against your tongue. You swallowed every drop, held him there, let him ride it out while he came completely undone.

The meeting ended with a quiet click.

And then silence.

His chest rose and fell. He looked down at you.

Eyes dark. Mouth parted.

“Get out from under that desk,” he said, “and bend the fuck over it.”

You didn’t even get the chance to stand.

Jensen grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you out from under the desk, his grip firm, possessive, not cruel, but firm. He was done pretending to keep it together. The moment that meeting ended, he snapped.

“You want to act like a little fucking distraction,” he growled, voice low and dangerous, “then you’re gonna take what you fucking asked for.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he turned you around and shoved you down onto the desk. Papers scattered. Your hands hit the wood hard, legs trembling.

He didn’t undress you carefully. He yanked your pants down fast, rough, baring you completely, his palm dragging across your ass as he kicked your legs farther apart.

“Stay there. Don’t move.”

The warning in his voice was sharp enough to sting. He wasn't playing around any longer.

You heard the sound of his joggers hitting the floor, and then he shoved inside, thick and deep, in one brutal thrust.

You cried out, your hands clawing at the edge of the desk. He didn’t pause. Didn’t ask. Didn’t soothe.

He just grabbed your hips and started using you.

His pace was relentless, deep, pounding thrusts that sent the desk rattling under your body, your breath punched out of you with every slam. His fingers dug into your waist, holding you in place like he owned you. You are his.

“Thought you were so fucking clever, huh baby girl?" he snarled, fucking you harder. “Sitting under that desk, moaning around my cock while I’m trying to talk.”

You tried to answer but couldn’t.

He reached up, grabbed your hair, yanked your head back just enough to growl in your ear.

“You wanted my attention, yeah? Like the little slut you are," His hips slammed forward. “Now you’ve got all of it.”

You choked out a gasp, pleasure blooming fast inside you. Your body was already close, already raw and wet from everything before, and now he was wrecking you, ruining you with each punishing thrust.

“You’re dripping,” he hissed. “You fucking like this, huh? My fucking slut."

You nodded frantically, your voice broken. “Yes. God, yes—”

He smacked your ass hard.

“Louder.”

“Yes, Jensen—!”

His hand wrapped around your throat and pinned you flat against the desk, his body caging you in while he thrust deeper, angrier. His cock filled you completely, slamming into that spot that made you scream.

“Good girl,” he growled. “You don’t get to be quiet now.”

You came first, back arching, breath breaking, your orgasm crashing through you so violently your knees gave out. But he held you up. Fucked you through it.

And he didn’t stop.

Not until you were whimpering and pleading under him.

Only then did his rhythm falter. His grip tightened. A vicious growl ripped out of his chest as he came, hard, deep inside you, every muscle locked down as he emptied himself with a final punishing thrust that left you gasping.

Then silence. Just your bodies. Breathless. Sweat-covered. His cock still inside you. His hand still holding you down.

Then his voice, ragged and low against your ear.

“You want to pull that stunt again?” he breathed. “Next time, I won’t be this nice.”

A/N: I went to SPN NJ this past Sunday and I miss it so much. Jensen and Jared give such good hugs. Ugh I miss them.

tags: @animelucky @mystic-writings @magster196 @soldierboysdoll @caplanbuckybarnes @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @mostlymarvelgirl @waynes-multiverse @deanspookiebear @multiversefanfics @chevroletdean @skywalker0809 @winchesterwild78 @cas-is-my-angel7

[arcannaa]

and if i say this is the best he’s ever looked ????

[arcannaa]

Oh to be loved by a man like Dean Winchester😭

Mornings Like These

Pairing: Dean x you | Established relationship

Summary: Dean was never one for saying I love you, he’s better at showing you just how much he truly does.

Warnings: Rated R, 18+, unprotected sex, soft & sensual, oral receiving, love making, no use of Y/N

It starts like a dream.

You’re floating in it. Half-conscious, body humming from the inside out, brain hazy and warm like honey.

And then—

There.

A slow drag of heat between your thighs. Wet. Warm. Pressure and suction, teasing and devouring. Tongue flicking, then flattening, drawing a moan from your throat before you even fully wake.

Your brows furrow, a soft whimper spilling out as your legs twitch. You’re not even sure what’s real yet, but God, it feels good.

Then—fingers.

Two of them, thick and sure, sliding into you in one slow, perfect push. You gasp, arching slightly, muscles clenching around them instinctively. Your body remembers. Even in your sleep-drunk state, it knows him. It knows what he does to you.

And still—he doesn’t rush.

He moves them in and out of you slowly, dragging them against that tender, overstimulated spongy spot inside you like he’s painting you open, drawing gasps from your lips and a desperate, choked sound from your chest.

You feel the bed shift, the heat of his mouth never leaving your clit, tongue alternating between hard flicks and devastating slow licks that make your thighs tremble.

Your eyes flutter open—just barely—and your gaze lands on his tousled hair between your legs. His shoulders are braced against your thighs, holding you down, like you might try to run from it.

“Baby—” you breathe, voice thick and wrecked, hips starting to roll into his mouth on instinct, fingers weaving through his hair and tugging gently at the soft blonde strands.

He groans in response, deep and needy, the sound vibrating straight through your clit as his fingers start to fuck into you deeper, faster now—just a little, just enough to send you spiraling again.

Your breath catches, legs tightening around his head, toes curling and your hands scrabble uselessly at the sheets.

“Oh God—Dean, I—” you whimper, but you don’t want him to stop. You want to drown in it. You need to.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, mouth glistening, lips parted as he pants against your slick pussy.

“You’re already so wet for me, sweetheart,” he rasps, voice low and hungry. “Fuckin’ soaked and you were asleep. You missed me that bad, huh?”

You nod, gasping, the pleasure bordering on too much—but he’s relentless.

“Good,” he growls, and he dives back in, mouth and fingers working in tandem now—devouring you, claiming every inch, dragging you to the edge again like it’s the only place you belong.

Your body tenses—every nerve ending lit up, every muscle tight—as your climax slams into you, sharp and overwhelming, your moan raw and broken as you cum hard around his fingers, legs shaking uncontrollably.

You barely register him easing you through it—his lips slowing, fingers gentler now as he lets you ride it out.

Then he slides up your body, one hand resting on the inside of your thighs, the other cupping your cheek as he kisses you deep and slow, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers against your lips.

Barely—but it’s everything.

Your body’s still trembling when Dean presses his mouth to yours—slow, deep, all-consuming. His fingers are still slick with you when they grip your thigh and drag it up around his waist, anchoring you beneath him. You’re warm and shaky, breath catching in your throat, and he doesn’t even give you time to steady.

His hips sink down between yours, cock hard and hot against your entrance—and even though you’re so sensitive you could cry, your body aches for him. You’re pulsing and open, still fluttering from the aftershocks of your orgasm when he pushes in, slow and thick, stretching you open all over again.

Your head falls back with a soft, wrecked gasp, tears springing to your lashes as the stretch builds, as your body makes room for him like it was always meant to. The pain and pleasure blur, and Dean doesn’t stop—he fills you to the hilt, groaning low in your ear as he bottoms out.

“Fuck,” he hisses, forehead pressing against yours, his breath ragged. “You feel that, sweetheart? Still so tight around me… still fuckin’ throbbing. Goddamn.”

You can’t speak—not really. Just a strangled moan, nails digging into his back as you hold on. It’s so much. Too much. And not nearly enough.

Dean starts to move—slowly. Grinding into you with deep, languid thrusts that have your thighs shaking and your mouth falling open, ragged breaths and whimpers spilling out as the slick drag of his cock brushes your g-spot over and over again.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him down to you. “Dean—baby, please—don’t st-uh-op—” you pant, voice thin and broken.

“Not a fuckin’ chance,” he growls, thrusting deeper, pace just enough to make you lose your mind. “You think I’m done with you? After the way you came for me? Nah, baby… I’m just getting started.”

His hand slips between you, fingers brushing over your clit again, and you shudder, hips lifting to meet his thrusts even as the burn of overstimulation tightens in your belly.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs, dragging his teeth over your jaw, “but look at you. Still fuckin’ taking it. Such a good girl for me.”

You cry out, body clenching, tears spilling as the pleasure threatens to break you open all over again.

And Dean just holds you down, fucking you slow and deep, his hand cradling the back of your head, keeping you pressed against his shoulder as you fall apart in his arms again—sobbing and gasping into his skin, clinging to him like he’s your only anchor in the world.

Because right now, he is.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your temple. It’s soft. Barely there.

“Mine,” he whispers against your skin. “Always.”

[arcannaa]

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Dean loves the sight of you sprawled across the passenger seat, your booty shorts riding up just enough to make your thighs look irresistible, the curve of your ass so plush and squeezable he could lose himself in it.

The way you sink between his legs, pink lips glistening as they part for him, is enough to make his grip tighten on the steering wheel.

Your mouth fits around him so perfectly, snug and warm, your tongue swirling over the flushed, pretty tip of his cock. He lets out a rough sigh, fingers threading through your hair, gently guiding you deeper. “There ya go, sweetheart...” he rasps, voice thick with pleasure. His other hand brushes your strands aside, tucking them behind your ear so he can watch. —God, does he love to watch. The way your lips stretch around him, the soft, obscene sounds of you taking him in, the flutter of your lashes when he pushes you just a little farther.

When he isn't coaxing your movements, his palm finds the swell of your ass, squeezing lightly, grounding himself as much as teasing you. The contrast is maddening the smooth leather of the wheel under one hand, the heat of your skin under the other, the wet eager pull of your mouth testing his focus.

His jaw clenches, hips shifting just slightly, fighting the urge to buck up into that perfect warmth, “Fuck, just like that..” he groans, thighs tensing as pleasure coils tight in his gut.

Then, with a sharp gasp, he's coming,pulsing hot and thick down your throat, his grip in your hair turning possessive as he holds you there. “Take it, baby,”he groans, watching with dark satisfaction as you swallow every drop, lips still wrapped around him until he's spent.

Only then does he let you pull back, thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth to catch a stray drop before bringing it to your lips, making you taste him all over again.

His fingers tremble as they find your cheek, stroking softly “Damn, sweetheart..” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “You're too fuckin good at that.” And just like that, he's already thinking about the next time he can pull over and have you on your knees for him again.

⋆.˚ 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌 : I know I haven't posted in awhile, so here's this short dean writing I did awhile back, it ain't too good..or that much but i promise I'll post more soon!!

thank you all for the support!! almost at 200 followers which is crazy by how short I've been posting for, I appreciate every single one of you guys <33 — my birthday was also yesterday so I'm officially 19 ^^

anyways enough with the yap, thank you once again I'll be backkk soon xoxo.

sdt @regretdean @legalmente-loca ♡

[arcannaa]

Yes, Ma’am

// Est. Dean Winchester x afab!you

summary: after a night out with dean, someone gets a bit touchy with him and you need to reassert yourself in his eyes so he knows exactly who you are to him // 2.7k //quick content: MDNI!!! smut, submissive dean, car sex, kinky sex, dominate woman, eventual praise, make up sex, pwp

A/N: this was a request!! based off of the songs miss possessive and sports car, pleeeease i LOVE submissive dean and i love getting a man to his knees, that is ALL

p.s. im back bitches :]

You knew better than to bring him here. Really, you did. But all you wanted was to dance with your man in a sea of drunk people having the time of their lives. You loved clubbing in your college days- the beat in your chest, dancing until you’re breathless, meeting new people, drinking your paychecks and when you were out of cash, you’d get some poor fucker to buy you a drink under the guise of getting you naked. You knew the moves and it’s easily recognized as the tiny thing with pretty blue eyes, and an outfit you wouldn’t necessarily sport yourself, slithers up to Dean’s side with a pearly grin.

A building bubble of annoyance pressed against your sternum as you wait for the bartender to get done with your drinks. The girl is definitely here on spring break and is using a classic girl-move on your man.

Dean seems unimpressed but he isn’t shooing her away, damn his charm and people-skills. You know he isn’t intentionally flirting, but with a face like that, any attention will be taken as a praise of itself.

With drinks in your hand and a confident posture, you walk back to your shared table and set down his drink in front of him.

“Oh hey, are you lost?” You ask with a head tilt while fingering the straw of your martini to your vibrantly painted lips. The girl seems to deflate some but you can tell she’s persistent.

“Gabby here was just telling me about some friend of hers who saw a ‘monster’,” Dean emphasizes and you squint slightly at his insinuation of a case.

“Yes! Okay,” the girl, Gabby, takes a spare stool and slides in, her chest on full display as she leans in. Honestly you can’t blame her, the dress you chose hugs your ass just at the crease and the breast support in the damn thing could stun a room of men. Under different circumstances, you could see having a fun night out with Gabby, but for the introduction she had in your night, you’re already done with her presence. “My friend swears she saw some crazy shit. Now I haven’t taken shrooms myself, but I was there and when I tell you she was totally freaked!” Gabby laughs, moving her hands as she talks- hands that end up on Dean's arm casually, as if they’re close like that or something.

Dean rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his old fashioned, realizing the girl was just full of it.

“Right,” he nods, giving you a look that says ‘girl is a waste of time’ but you barely acknowledge it as you stare daggers at Gabby- her hand not moving.

“You two ever take any crazy stuff? Most I’ve done is a line that barely made it up my nose, shit burned,” she groans as she pouts, looking up at Dean. “You look like you could take it though.” She bumps him softly, pressing into his side.

“I don’t need substances to act irrationally,” you say before you mean to, alcohol making you overly confident. Gabby just gives you a ‘wtf, girl?’ look but your stone doesn’t shift. Dean just chuckles, seemingly oblivious to the girl’s advances, which pisses you off you may add.

“That’s my girl,” Dean hooks his arm around your waist, bringing you in and kissing your jaw. The height difference of your heels and him sitting on a barstool is just enough to give you a guard-dog mentality. Your lips lift into a claiming smile as Dean kisses your skin, your eyes still locked on the girl.

She sighs, starting to get the hint that maybe she can’t win this one, but damn is she confident.

“You guys could join me and my friends? We know some cool spots, we always come to the city when we’re out of school,” she suggests with a small shrug that hugs her cleavage tighter. Her eye contact remains on its priority of Dean’s emerald gems.

“We’re fine,” you decide, looking down on her, your heel advantage letting you loom over her as well. She looks frustrated at this point and you can tell Dean is enjoying the dominance you have over the situation. It makes you wonder if he entertained her attention just so you could intervene.

“He can speak, yaknow,” Gabby cringes as she folds her arms over her chest.

“Oh, she speaks for me,” Dean plays into it, leaning back and taking another sip of his drink. Gabby works her jaw, squinting up at you.

“Whatever,” she stands, “you both seem toxic anyways,” she scoffs, slithering back into the crowd of nameless dancers and forgotten faces.

Dean chuckles into the rim of his glass, his breath fogging the crystal. You take another sip of your drink, a ring of your lipstick stained to the straw.

“The hell was that?” You ask, setting your drink down and looking over at him, your frustration finding its second victim. He looks over at you, sweet mossy eyes shimmering as he takes in your form, a lazy smile showing sharp canines.

“She was harmless,” he shrugged simply, warm eyes relaxing in your shine.

“She was a pest,” you bite, eyes carrying back to where she vanished to make sure she wouldn’t reappear.

“She’s gone,” he sets his glass down, grabbing your waist and pulling you between his knees. “Relax, baby, she’s just drunk and I thought she would bring us a case,” he says, looking up at you, club’s lights reflecting off his eyes like fireworks.

It’s hard to just forgive and forget, to move on like the jealous rage in your chest didn’t scream at you to assert your claim over your man. I mean, the audacity she had to just come out of nowhere and touch him. She pouted up at him. She was trying to get him to fawn over her and take her home or offer her a drink. You don’t realize the grip on Dean's thigh is just about bruising until he speaks up and brings you out of your graying cloud veined with lightning.

“I’m all yours, baby,” his fingers dig into your hips and he wets his lips. Your eyes draw to his lips, heart racing and throat full. You’re pissed.

You grab the stem of your martini and discard the straw, downing the drink and grabbing Dean's hand. He gets the memo pretty quickly so he finishes his drink swiftly, letting you drag him out of the club.

The bumping music blares from the now abandoned building as you make your way back to Dean's Impala that’s parked along the street. Dean maneuvers in front of you to open your door and help you in. He rounds the car and settles in the driver's side. He looks over at you to gauge your mood and your folded arms as you look out the window doesn’t prove his innocence in your mind, but he can’t help but drool a bit at the skin puffing over the neckline of your dress.

He opens his mouth to speak but you instruct “just drive”. He listens.

Music plays and the engine purrs as Baby runs the paved roads to take you far away from her. God, you just couldn’t get the situation out of your head. The overstepping, the butting in, the pouty face, the touchy hands.

“There,” you point to an empty parking lot behind a closed breakfast spot. Dean raises a brow but follows your instructions. You don’t even know what your plan is- yell at him? Yell about her? Have him explain himself? He didn’t really do anything wrong though, but fuck you just felt misplaced by the whole thing. Like you need to reinsert yourself back in his eyes.

Like you just needed to…

“Is she still bothering you? Sweetheart, I promise you, I don’t have eyes for anyone else,” he leans over after putting Baby in park. You look over at him, arms still folded and a scowl still contorting your features.

Before he can try and speak again, you pounce, grabbing his collar and claiming his lips back. It was unexpected by both of you, that much is obvious, but Dean still melts into your kiss, his hands roaming your body. You slide closer, kicking off your heels and straddling his lap. Your ass hits the horn and Dean chuckles into the kiss but it only pisses you off more. He leans down, hissing along your neck and down your jaw as he reaches for the lever to move the bench back.

Once the seat is shifted back, your manicured nails grip the roots of his dirty blonde hair and he gasps in surprise, his sharp teeth glinting as you take in his gaped mouth.

You bring him back to you, scooting closer and taking his lip between your teeth and he… whimpers?

Did Dean Winchester just whimper under you?

Your fury mends with something darker and it only fuels your need.

His hands hold your ass, running up the curve of your back and right back down, squeezing hard and keeping you close. You can feel him try and settle you on your back but you’re locked on top of him and refuse to move. You can feel his dick pressing into your barely clothed core and the hem of your dress rides up as you grind into him to show the hooks of your thong resting up to your waist. His fingers mess with the strings.

Your grip in his hair reforces and tugs him back so you can kiss along his jaw. The kisses are wet and sloppy, leaving a glistening trail of your mark. You make your way back up to his ear, whispering warm breath over his sensitive flesh.

“That was ridiculous,” you deem softly, taking his earlobe between your teeth and pulling another whimper out of him. God, that sound really melts that anger deep in your chest, but it isn’t enough just yet.

“Sweetheart-.”

“Don’t,” you warn, dropping your hold on his skin and pressing your lips to the other side of his neck as you force his jaw to open for you. He holds back another whine. “Don’t hold back, show me who you fucking belong to,” you demand before biting the skin just under his ear, sucking in his scent and pulling a low moan from him.

You can’t stop your lips from claiming him over and over again, especially as his trapped cock can only barely feel the brush of your distant lips, he can only rely on memory to ease his need.

“Look at me,” you push up, letting your ass rest on his dick with your full weight and his head is thrown back in a loud, whiny moan. You grab his jaw, pulling him back to you and the pressure parts his lips and his eyes are wide and observant, ready to listen.

“Apologize,” you instruct, your face a stone of foreshadowed repercussions.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he rushes out shaking his head and digging his nails into your hips to press you into him more. His eyes dip down to your tits as they threaten to spill past the low-v of your dress at any moment.

“I didn’t say look there, I said look at me,” you tighten your grip, a drunken haze puppeteering your limbs like an Irene Adler wannabe. You lean in like you’re about to kiss him but you stop, watching as he tries to arc forward to meet you, “I don’t believe you.”

A small, pathetic whine tugs out of his throat and he swallows, looking up at you again. You maneuver your body off of him enough to push him so that he’s laying down in the front seat. He stares up at you, his hands finding any opportunity to hold your hips.

“Baby, I promise, I only want you,” he pleads, looking up at you, panting and flushed. You straddle his waist, running a teasing hand up his chest and latching it between the buttons of his shirt. You manage to rip it open completely and trace your fingers down his chest.

“Those are just words,” you point, your eyes following your fingers but you can still feel his eyes on you. “I need something else,” you meet his gaze again and he practically melts with anticipation as you finally look at him again.

Your eyes on him makes him feel like the most powerful man in the world.

“Anything, gorgeous, anything you want,” he quickly abides, making you smile down at him. It’s a smile that makes him warm inside like he’s done something right.

“Scoot,” you flick a finger for him to move down as you lift off him to do so.

He listens without hesitation, even if his legs don’t have enough room on the driver's side.

“You’re gonna do me a favor and prove to me that I’m the only woman you see,” you reach a warm hand to cup his cheek, speaking softer than you have all night.

“Yes, ma’am,” he smirks, his eyes still wide and lustful, panting and so fucking ready for whatever you have in store.

You pierce an acrylic stiletto through your thong to snip off the fabric that you can easily replace later. He watches your movements, trying to guess what you’ll do next. You reach behind you to unfasten his belt. It’s a little tricky to do without seeing it, but you manage. Dean eyes stay glued to your tits as they ripple with your movement.

He groans as his dick springs free, throbbing in the steamy air of sex in the Impala. He wants so badly to reach down and touch himself but he’s guessing, based on your current control over the night, that it wouldn’t end well for him.

You stuff your shredded thong in his hand and scoot up closer and closer.

“You’re gonna take care of yourself while you take care of me, you got it? Show me how you live to make me happy,” the words leave your lips like a sweet commandment, like a vow he’d happily plead to to keep you smiling.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers, repeating the only words he can think of besides your name.

He lets out a low groan as you hook yourself over his shoulders and plant your pussy right at his lips, trapping him between your heat and the squeaky leather seat.

When you decide enough has been enough, you settle fully, allowing him to bury himself in your lips. He’s needy and hungry but he knows your body and knows what you need to feel pure ecstasy. He’s holding back and you can tell.

“Good boy,” you ride, digging your nails into the leather and bracing your left arm on the dash. The praise sends a shiver to his dick as he strokes himself with your thong still in hand.

He moans into you, the hum prickling your sensitive skin and warming you up just right. His nose presses against your clit but he holds still, letting his tongue build you up until you’re right there.

Right on the edge, he waits until he can feel the tremble in your thighs and the squeak in your moans. Right until you grip onto his roots and show him you're ready. His tongue keeps steady and consistent as he now moves his face to circle his nose around your clit, ripping a melodic moan out of your throat.

The feeling is unlike any other and you don’t think you could ever even think straight enough to attempt to put it in words that would never give it justice.

Your body wracks with quaking pulses, and your senses are overstimulated as he moans into you with his own release and you can’t help but grind into him to spasm just right.

You settle back onto his chest, legs still hooked around him and thighs flooding along his face like a lonely island.

His lips shimmer with you and his smile basks under your eyes. His face is hugged by your plush skin and his cock is emptied onto your panties.

This man is yours.

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>> check out my other works here

[arcannaa]

Can't believe I wrote this a year ago. I still feel the same. No one can compare to you, Dean. I hope one day I can find a lover that shares some of your qualities.

I wanted to share something I wrote for Dean and I feel like y'all are the only ones who would get it. (Page numbers at the bottom, but they are in order.)

[arcannaa]

cw: smut.ᐟ cockwarming.ᐟ dacryphilia kink.ᐟ praise kink.ᐟ soft!dom ben.ᐟ mirror sex.ᐟ slight degradation.ᐟ spit play.ᐟ dumbification [kinda].ᐟ pet names [baby, sweetheart, sweet girl].ᐟ 18+

wc: 924

it felt like fucking hours.

naked, straddling ben’s lap in front of the mirror perched in your bedroom. stuffed full of him, just keeping his cock nice and warm while he rolls his second blunt of the night.

your body’s slick with need, trembling. you’re so overwhelmed it almost hurts.

ben's hands rest on your hips, casually. acting like he doesn’t notice the way your thighs twitch or how you keep clenching around him for the past half hour now.

“doin’ alright, baby?” he murmurs, eyes lazy as they trail up your soaked frame in the glass. “bein’ good for me?”

you'd damn yourself later for sounding so pathetic, eyes stinging with tears of need, cheeks hot with a desperately rushing pulse. 

“mmh, keepin’ me warm sweet girl, haven’t you?”

just when you're reaching that tipping point, from the tip of his thick cock pressed snug up against your cervix for long enough it was borderline pain. when you squirm too hard...

smack

he's not rough, just enough of a sting to make your face jolt to the side and your breath catch.

“easy, sweetheart” he coos, tongue wetting the rolling paper “keep actin’ like that, and i’ll start thinkin’ your getting an attitude w'me".

he leans forward, one hand in your hair now, gently using it to tilting it back. “look at yourself" he gestures to the body length mirror he'd conveniently added to pan at the bed.

when you blink the water from your eyes, you're met with quite the sight.

your cheeks were flushed and sticky with spit and tears. tits shaking with every breath. thighs burning, twitching, soaked. ben’s cock still buried snugly inside you, tuft hairs at the base of his cock shiny from your drooling cunt.

“look at this pretty mess y'made” he whispered while the pad of his thumb drifts down to swipe over your clit “ 'nd look at this"

you shudder and nod, lips trembling. “please, ben…”

he brings his thumb against your flushed cheek, smearing a mix of your arousal into the gloss of your tears.

"y'look so fuckin' pretty when you cry" he murmured.

his hips shift forward purposely, cock slipping out of you with a wet squelch that makes you sob with sudden emptiness.

manhandling onto your hands and knees in front of the mirror, your met with a reflection of the mess on your delicate skin and him kneeling behind you.

“this what you want, huh?” he lowered the head of his cock, letting his girth slide between your pussy lips with a strained grunt. "couldn’t sit fuckin' still. cryin’, beggin’ now look at you".

"you want it here, yeah?” he growled, slapping his cock against your swollen clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

you nod through damp lashes, dropping your head forward. “i want it—want you to fill me up, please…”

“uh-uh—” he clutches your jaw and your eyes fly open. thumb swiping a tear from your cheek and rubbing it against the slit of his cock “gonna look at me when i wreck you".

he guides the tip into you with slow and deliberate movement. a few inches in feeling you grip onto him, then slowly pulls back out.

he knew exactly how to keep you right on the edge. each taunting stroke felt like a mix of heaven and hell, dragging every possible sound from your lips.

he leans in, chest pressed to your back. his fingers cup round your throat, eyes waiting patiently to meet with yours in the reflection of the mirror.

"what's wrong? cryin' cause you can’t take it, yet you were pretty fuckin' antsy earlier” he taunted.

you’re already so close, so gone. and when he reaches around to rub your clit in tight little circles, it hits like a flood.

you sob his name, shaking, as he fucks you through your orgasm. watching strings of drool stick from your lips to the mirror.

you didn’t even realize he came until you felt it, hot and thick, painting your insides in deep pulses.

his breath fanned against the side of your neck in heavy, open-mouthed pants. placing a wet kiss against your cheek, right over the smear of spit and tears he caused.

you blinked down at your reflection in the glass, not even sure who you were looking at. lashes clumped together with tears. cheeks slick with whatever mess ben had smeared across your face.

he slowly rocked his hips forward again, just once, to press his cum deeper.

“fuck” he whispered, voice wrecked. “just look at you”.

his cum started to trickle out slowly, sliding down the insides of your thighs, catching where your knees met the floor. cunt wet and creamy still stretching around him.

he moved one hand from your hip, cupping between your thighs, fingers brushing your folds with a gentle pressure that made you gasp his thumb slid upward, dragging through the creamy spill at your entrance, catching it on the pad of his finger.

“goddamn, baby” he whispered. “so full o'me".

he pulled out with a soft squelch. eyes fixed on the way your cunt gapped wide because of him, the fucking mess at he left inside you.

“you okay, sweet girl?” his tone was softer now, like he hadn't just wrecked you apart.

you nodded.

his hand brushed gently down your belly, dipping lower again just to feel the way your body was still twitching.

“don’t wanna waste it now do we?” he murmured pushing two fingers back inside you, keeping you full of him.

tags: @tinas111 @fancyhideoutpeach @kimxwinchester @soldiersgirl @lanasgirlfr @unfortunate-brat @bruisedfig @angelically-yours @winchestersbgirl @spnaquakindgdom @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel @bejeweledinterludes @deanstubble @sunnyteume @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[arcannaa]

"get a load of this guy" I'M TRYINGGG

[arcannaa]

Jensen Ackles | SPN S7 Gag Reel

[arcannaa]

cw: smut.ᐟ sick!dean.ᐟ sub!dean [kinda].ᐟ estab. relationship.ᐟ p in v, cowgirl.ᐟ pet names [baby, sweetheart].ᐟ 18+

wc: 1100

۫ ꣑ৎ bee yaps: here's to some needy, whiny, sick dean who just wants to be comforted by you and your cunt while he's exausted and comin down with something ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

you find dean curled up on the bunkers couch, hoodie zipped up, body heavy with something that wasn't quite sickness, but close. exhaustion clings to him. puffy eyes rimmed red, dark circles bruising the pale skin beneath, and a faint sheen of sweat beading along his temple. he doesn’t even look up when you step into the room.

“dee—” you whisper, crouching down beside him. hand brushing over his hair, soft and a little damp, sticking up in tired spikes. “you’re gettin hot".

“m’fine” he grumbles, voice raspy, thick with sleep and congestion. he sniffs softly, dark lashes fluttering as he tries to open his eyes. “jus’ tired".

you press the back of your hand to his forehead and frown. “you’ve been running yourself into the ground. you need rest”.

he doesn’t argue, just nuzzles into your touch like a sleepy cat, his big body shifting toward you. you settle onto the couch beside him and tug his head into your lap, fingers threading gently through his hair. he hums low, eyes fluttering closed again.

you think maybe he’s finally drifting off, after fighting sleep for so long. until he squirms a little, hand creeping up your thigh with a lazy kind of desperation.

“baby” he murmurs, barely above a breath “need you".

“dean, you’re sick—”

“don’t care” he groans, frustrated and needy, hips giving a slow roll that drags his bulge against your leg. “can’t sleep. can’t stop thinkin’ about you".

you watch as his fingers slide beneath the hem of your shirt, trembling and warm, palm flattening over your stomach like he’s grounding himself.

“please,” he whines, low and hoarse “need you so bad. feel like shit, but you always make it better baby.”

you shift beneath him, thighs squeezing together. “dee—you’re sure?”

he nods, eyes still shut but mouth falling open with a soft whine when your hand grazes over the front of his sweats. “yeah i'm sure. please, baby. just wanna feel you”

he’s warm all over. skin flushed, lips dry and cracked from breathing through his mouth all day, his nose pink and stuffy. you kiss his temple, his cheek, his jaw, until he finally looks at you with those glassy hazy green eyes.

you slip your hand into his sweats, and he chokes out the softest moan you’ve ever heard from him . high and desperate, forehead dropping against your chest.

“so good to me sweetheart" he whimpers, teeth catching his bottom lip as you stroke him slow.

you lean down to kiss his forehead, soft and slow, like you’re trying to soothe him, but his face up at the last second and catches your lips instead.

he's clumsy at first. warm, dry and cracked lips, his mouth hot and trembling against yours. his fingers dig into your hips, trying to pull you down onto him, and you feel the desperate groan in his chest.

“jesus” you breathe, pulling back just enough to look at him “dean you need sl—”

“please" he rasps, eyes glossy and half-lidded, cheeks flushed. “need to be inside you baby. can’t think, can’t sleep, just— fuck" his voice cracks on the last word.

you shift to straddle his lap, and he whimpers like he’s in pain, head falling back against the cushion. his hands slide up under your shirt, rough palms dragging over your skin.

“so warm" he mumbles “wanna stay right here. wanna get lost in you".

you rock down against him gently, feeling the tent in his pants press against your clothed cunt. he chokes on a moan, hips stuttering beneath you. his skin is hot to the touch, fever and arousal mixing in a mess of sweat and aching need.

“you sure you’re up for this?” you ask softly, even as your fingers start to pull down the waistband of his sweats.

“i’ll feel better, swear. jus' need you around me. need you to ride me slow. feel good baby, just for a little while” was a slur of whiny words he was begging you for.

and you give it to him.

you sink down over him slow, steady and careful. but the stretch still punches a whine out of his throat, one hand fisting the back of your shirt like he’s holding on for dear life.

“y'so fuckin’ good to me baby".

you move in slow, lazy rolls of your hips, letting him feel all of you, unraveling more each second. little gasps and broken moans slipping from his lips.

he kisses you through it, sloppy and slow, teeth bumping yours, tongue desperate. trying to lose himself in you completely. you cup his face in both hands, brushing your thumbs over his stubbled cheeks, and he leans into it.

“feels so good” he whispers, brows furrowed. “don’t stop. wanna stay right here— wanna come with you like this".

his eyes are still closed, lashes damp, skin flushed pink with heat. he’s sweating lightly, a feverish shine at his temples, a slow drip trailing down the slope of his neck.

his lips are parted and dry, kiss-bitten and he’s holding onto your hips in a bruising strength.

you rock down again, achingly slow, feeling that creamy ring soak down his shaft. his breath stutters, his brows pinch, and a ragged moan slips from his throat.

“oh fuuck” he pants. “baby, fuck, so good— too good”

you kiss over the fever pink skin along his cheeks as you keep him right on-edge. his thighs twitch helplessly beneath you. his head digs back against the couch, adams apple bobbing, chest rising and falling with every laboured breath.

“can’t think— jus' wanna stay right here, inside you forever baby” he whimpers

your cunt clenches, fluttering tight around him, and he nearly sobs.

“you’re makin’ me crazy, sweetheart” he slurs, breath hitching. “can’t— fuck, can’t do this slow, s’too much, m'gonna—”

you hush him, kissing the corner of his mouth, tasting faint salt from a tear that's slipped down his cheek.

“come for me dee, let go” you whisper encouragingly, circling your hips, and he does.

his whole body shudders beneath with a whine, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted you as he spills his load inside your velvet warmth. his face twists up, flushed and beautiful.

you don’t stop moving, slow and steady. until his come is dripping out of you with a wet squelch. his body melting back into the couch cushions.

he blinks up at you, dazed but stated, and gives a little huff of a laugh through his nose.

“think i’m cured” he murmurs.

you smile, soft and warm, and wipe the sweat from his brow with the pad of your thumb.

"now get some sleep"

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

tags: @tinas111 @fancyhideoutpeach @kimxwinchester @soldiersgirl @lanasgirlfr @unfortunate-brat @bruisedfig @angelically-yours @winchestersbgirl @spnaquakindgdom @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pieandflannel @bejeweledinterludes @deanstubble @sunnyteume @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[arcannaa]

COMING HOME. †

꒰ . ⋮ minors do not interact .ᐟ ֹ ꒱

synopsis. after two excruciating weeks apart, dean finally comes home. the kids are asleep, and he's desperate to make up for lost time.

ⓘ warning(s). smut | rough sex | mild dominance | biting & marking | bed-breaking sex (literally) | post-hunt reunion | explicit language.

word count. 1.3K

kari notes. the people wanted this, so the people are gonna get what they want <3 i actually hate the way this came out …. but fuck it we ball !

you hear the impala roar into the driveway before you see it, the familiar rumble sending a rush of warmth through your chest. two weeks. fourteen long, exhausting days of managing four kids alone, of missing him with a sharp, constant ache that settled deep in your bones.

you've learned to deal with dean's absences over the years, but somehow it never gets easier. especially now, with three daughters—ages eight, five, and three—and a mischievous eight-month-old son who has his daddy's green eyes and stubborn streak.

you're halfway through cleaning up the dinner table, your youngest balanced snugly on your hip, drooling adorably on your shirt, when the front door swings open. dean steps inside, dirt-stained jeans hugging his hips, his faded flannel hanging open over a worn black t-shirt. the sight of him sends your pulse into overdrive.

"hey, sweetheart," dean drawls gently, dropping his duffel by the door. he looks tired—lines etched deeper around his eyes, scruff thicker than usual—but god, he's gorgeous. your heart flips as he steps closer, his eyes softening when your baby boy reaches tiny arms out toward his dad, babbling excitedly.

"hey, buddy," dean murmurs, scooping his son effortlessly into his arms. your heart aches, watching the way dean's face lights up, exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the presence of his child. his lips brush the baby's soft forehead, lingering there as if soaking up every ounce of comfort and affection he can.

"missed you," you whisper, stepping close enough to lean against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent of leather, gunpowder, and something uniquely dean winchester. his free arm wraps tight around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"missed you too, baby," he whispers hoarsely, his lips pressing softly to your temple. the brush of his stubble sends shivers down your spine, and your fingers fist gently into the fabric of his shirt. "you holdin' up okay?"

you nod against him, savoring the warmth of his strong frame, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. "better now."

the sound of tiny footsteps breaks the moment, and your three daughters come racing into the kitchen screaming excitedly. dean's eyes crinkle at the corners, his mouth breaking into a wide, genuine smile as they swarm him, hugging his legs, giggling when he ruffles their hair, calling each one by their special nickname.

it's pure chaos, loud and messy and beautiful. you step back a little, watching him interact with your children—your chest tightening with an overwhelming surge of love.

the evening passes in a blur of baths and stories and bedtime cuddles. dean insists on handling bedtime, savoring every moment he's missed over the past two weeks.

you watch him from the doorway as he kisses tiny foreheads, tucks blankets gently around tiny shoulders, whispering softly until eyelids flutter closed. your heart swells as you see him in his element, and it makes you fall impossibly more in love with him.

when the last bedroom door finally clicks shut, he turns to you, eyes dark and heavy with a different kind of exhaustion—the kind that only you can soothe. the tension that's been simmering between you since the moment he walked through the door ignites instantly, crackling in the air between you like electricity.

without a word, dean crosses the hallway, his fingers tangling into your hair as he pulls you in, mouth crashing against yours hungrily. your back hits your bedroom door with a soft thud, his broad frame crowding you against it as his tongue sweeps into your mouth, claiming you roughly, possessively. the kiss is messy, desperate—his teeth catching your lower lip, tugging just enough to make you gasp.

"goddamn, baby," he growls against your mouth, voice thick and gravelly with need. "been goin' fuckin' crazy without you."

your hands slip beneath his shirt, nails scraping lightly over his strong stomach, tracing the familiar curves of muscle and softness. he groans into your mouth, pressing his hips into yours, letting you feel exactly how much he's missed you. your breath hitches as you grind against him, desperate for friction, desperate to feel him fill you again.

"need you," you whisper breathlessly, your lips trailing along his jaw, tasting the salt of his skin. "now."

he doesn't hesitate, pulling you away from the door long enough to shove it open. the second it clicks shut behind you, his hands are everywhere, stripping clothes away roughly, impatiently. your shirt lands somewhere across the room, jeans and underwear quickly following.

you fumble with his flannel, tugging it off his broad muscular shoulders, your fingers trembling slightly as you push his jeans down his hips, freeing his hard length.

he backs you toward the bed, lips never leaving yours, and you're both naked before your knees hit the mattress. he lays you down roughly, climbing over you, his mouth blazing a trail down your neck, across your chest, tongue swirling around your nipples, biting gently until you're arching into him, moaning his name.

"dean," you gasp when his teeth scrape over your sensitive skin, sending pleasure pulsing through your veins. "please, baby—"

he doesn't make you wait, pushing your thighs apart with strong hands, sinking into you in one swift thrust. you both groan simultaneously, overwhelmed by the tight heat, the perfect friction. he sets a brutal pace immediately, hips snapping hard against yours, driving you higher, faster, closer to the edge you've been craving.

"fuck, sweetheart," he grunts, his voice raw, desperate, as he pounds into you. "missed this pussy—missed you—so goddamn much."

you dig your heels into his lower back, urging him deeper, harder, your nails leaving red marks down his back as you cling to him. the bed creaks dangerously beneath you, but neither of you cares. you're too lost in the feeling, in each other, in the messy, desperate heat of making up for lost time.

he sits up suddenly, pulling you with him, never slipping out of you. he spins you around until you're on your knees, gripping the wooden headboard tightly, his strong chest pressed hot against your back. he pounds into you from behind, teeth sinking gently into your shoulder, your neck, marking you as his. you push back against him, matching each thrust, feeling your orgasm building quickly, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it snaps.

"oh fuck, dean—" your voice breaks, your body shaking violently beneath him, pleasure washing over you in wave after wave. he growls your name, hips stuttering, his thrusts becoming erratic as your walls squeeze around him, pulling him over the edge with you.

his hand slams down on the headboard as he comes hard, hips jerking, cock pulsing deep inside you. there's a loud crack, wood splintering beneath his grip, but he hardly seems to notice, too caught up in the intensity of his orgasm.

you collapse onto the mattress together, breathing heavily, limbs tangled, hearts pounding in sync. dean's hand slides gently along your back, tracing soft circles over the bite marks he's left behind, soothing your skin as you both slowly come down from your high.

"think you just broke our bed," you tease softly, nuzzling into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

he chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "worth it."

you laugh quietly, your fingers trailing lazily along his chest. "missed you so much, de."

his arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer. "i ain't goin' anywhere, baby," he whispers, voice thick and sincere. "promise."

and for the first time in weeks, you finally feel complete again—safe and loved and exactly where you're meant to be.

@ deansbeer is tagging you .ᐟ @titsout4jackles @daylighted @soldiersgirl @bluemerakis @jensenacklesballsack @h8aaz @bluestrd @ultravi0lence14 @blue-d @stereotypicalbarbie @funkycoloured @fuckedupfate @deanswidow @beausling @bejeweledinterludes @blossomingorchids @tinas111 @0ccvltism @bittersweetfig @deanswifeyy @dollyfiles @cupidzbunny @tallandcunt @kamisobsessed @pieandflannel @faiszt @apocalyqsc @coquitokisses @americanvenom13 @rubyvhs @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @mahi-wayy @maddie0101 ╱ wanna follow the chaos? join my taglist <3

[arcannaa]

presenting ╱ mess made for me.

featuring ദ soldier boy ⨯ fem!reader.

RATED R. minors look away.

caution ! smut porn with no plot. dom!ben. spanking. rough sex. manhandling. overstimulation. dirty talk. ben's obsessed. light degradation. praising kink. peepaw takes control. possessiveness.

notepad ! this is not proofread … so i'm gonna post and dip <3 it feels like centuries ago since i wrote for the handsome old feller :') bc he is. idc tho i love me a man decades older than me. a true fact. anyways. gniteee i'm soooo sleepy <3 ilysm muaaah !

he leans back against the headboard, legs spread wide, arms behind his head like he's got all the time in the world. the cocky smirk on his face only grows when you straddle him, your thighs already trembling from how many times he's made you come tonight.

"c'mon, sweetheart," he drawls, green eyes glinting under the low light. "show me how much you fuckin' missed me."

you grip his broad shoulders for leverage and start to ride him, slow at first, the thick stretch of him making you whimper every time you sink down. he's big — bigger than anyone you've ever had — and he knows it, the bastard. knows exactly how good he stuffs you full, how you can barely take him without working yourself open first.

you move, hips rolling sloppily, and he watches you like a man starved, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. the sound of your slick, the wet little plop every time you drop down onto his cock, fills the room, obscene and raw.

"fuck," he growls, one hand sliding down to grip your ass, giving it a sharp slap that makes you jolt and clench around him. "you hear that, doll? hear how fuckin' wet you are for me?"

you whimper, nodding, trying to keep up the pace, but your thighs are shaking, muscles burning with exhaustion. you're so tired, so wrecked, but you don't want to stop — not when he's looking at you like that, like you're the only thing in the goddamn world that matters.

"s'tired," you breathe, forehead dropping to his shoulder.

he chuckles low, the sound rumbling through his chest. without warning, he grabs your hips in his big hands and starts bouncing you on his cock himself, using your body like it's nothing, like you weigh less than air.

"poor baby," he says mockingly, voice thick with lust. "thought you could tap out on me? nah. you wanted this — now you’re fuckin' takin' it."

you moan, high and broken, nails digging into his shoulders as he moves you up and down, up and down, the slick sounds getting louder, wetter, filthier. every time you drop, you make that little plop noise he's addicted to, and every time, he groans like he's hearing it for the first time.

"that’s it," he grunts. "fuckin' music to my ears."

his hands leave bruises on your hips, holding you tight, forcing you to take every thick inch of him. he doesn't slow down, doesn't let you catch your breath, just uses you until you're nothing but a crying, whimpering mess on his cock.

"look at you," he growls, tilting his hips up to fuck into you harder, deeper. "bouncin’ on my cock like a good little slut. you love this shit, don't you?"

you nod frantically, tears pricking at your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. your whole body's tingling, every nerve ending lit up like fireworks.

"say it," he demands, giving your ass another hard slap that makes you cry out. "say who fuckin' owns you."

"you," you gasp, voice cracking. "you do, ben—"

"damn right," he snarls, slamming you down harder, groaning when your pussy clenches around him like a vice. "my good fuckin' girl."

your orgasm hits you like a freight train, your body locking up, mouth falling open in a silent scream. he feels it, feels the way you clamp down on him, and it pushes him right over the edge too. he curses under his breath, hips stuttering as he spills inside you, filling you up so deep it’s almost too much.

for a moment, the only sounds are your ragged breathing and the faint, wet noises of your bodies still tangled together. his hands soften against your skin, rubbing slow circles into your hips like he’s grounding you, pulling you back from the edge.

you slump against him, boneless and fucked-out, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest.

your body's buzzing, twitching little aftershocks still running up your spine as you lay slumped on his chest, too wrecked to move. you're half convinced you might just sleep there, with him still inside you, but ben's already muttering under his breath, shifting you gently off him.

"jesus fuckin' christ," he grumbles, sitting up, reaching for a rag from the nightstand without even bothering to pull his boxers back on. "can't even take a good dicking without tappin' out like a rookie."

you whine weakly in protest, but he just huffs a laugh, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back like you're weightless. you can feel his spend dripping out of you, hot and messy against your thighs, and it makes the back of your neck flush.

"look at this shit," he says, wiping at the mess between your legs with rough but careful hands. "fucked you so full you’re leaking all over the goddamn bed."

he's not even mad — not really. you can hear the smugness dripping from every word, can feel it in the way his fingers linger a little too long, wiping you up slow, almost lazy, like he's savoring it.

"told you to stretch," he mutters, tossing the dirty rag onto the floor and grabbing another. "but nooo, you wanted to be a big girl."

you glare at him half-heartedly through your haze, and he smirks, leaning down to kiss your forehead like it'll erase the absolute filth coming out of his mouth.

"don’t gimme that look," he says. "you loved every second."

he's not wrong. you did. you still do, even as he manhandles you like you're made of paper, even as he wipes you clean with way too much attitude.

"next time," he says, tossing the second rag aside and pulling the covers over you like it's a peace offering, "you're gonna be beggin’ me to take it easy."

you snort, voice rough. "no 'm not."

he grins, all teeth, sliding into bed next to you and dragging you against his chest again, like he needs you there, needs to feel your skin on his.

"we'll see, sweetheart," he murmurs against your hair, voice already gone thick with sleep. "we'll fuckin’ see."

and you know he's right.

✸ stamped. @soldiersgirl @titsout4jackles @bluemerakis @daylighted @beausling @deanswidow @jensenacklesballsack @bejeweledinterludes @blossomingorchids @tinas111 @h8aaz @acaibcwl @faiszt @bluestrd @bruisedfig @deanswifeyy @blue-d @dollyfiles @cupidzbunny @sl33pylilbunny @kamisobsessed @pieandflannel @angelicjackles @samslovebug @fuckedupfate @thesevnthseal @ultravi0lence14 @starzify @honeyyxxbee @lanasgirlfr @suckitands33 @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @pinkitty97 @americanvenom13 ╱ a kissie 𖬺 a warm hug .ᐟ

[arcannaa]

Bean There, Done That

nsfw prompts, send in a character + a number

PAIRING: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader GENRE: Smut (18+ CONTENT) TO NOTE/WARNINGS: Horny!Ben being his own warning, oral (fem receiving), mentions of male receiving oral, unprotected p in v (wrap it), creampie, hickeys and bitemarks and bruises, rough sex, manhandling, dirty talk WORD COUNT: 2k PROMPT: 17) seeing the love marks they left on their partner later and getting turned on all over again remember how it got there in the first place A/N: In honor of my coffee machine finally arriving. After 8 days without a proper cup, I can run on bean juice again, hooray! Thanks a ton to the lovely @justwhisperingfantasies for requesting AND betareading <3 <3 <3 CREDIT & LINKS: dividers by cafekitsune ─〃★ join the taglist ─〃★ Soldier Boy Masterlist

When Ben woke up, it was thanks to the waft of coffee emitting from the kitchen. Grumbling, he sat up and glanced towards the clock.

10:32 AM

Though that counted as sleeping in, he definitely didn’t get much rest last night. The clothes that were scattered all over the floor were enough proof of that. Among them, a pair of lace panties, torn apart.

Maybe he should feel bad about that one, but all he could muster was a proud smirk as he remembered ripping it off you just a couple of hours ago.

He quickly realized two things were missing from the picture— one being his jersey, which he was sure must’ve ended up somewhere among the pile; and more importantly… you.

Slipping out of bed and into his boxers and robe, Ben followed the trail of freshly brewed arabica. The sight he was met with beat any pirate’s lame treasure hunt.

You were standing at the counter, idly humming to yourself while you cut up a handful of strawberries. With your back facing him, you haven’t noticed him yet.

All the more time for him to appreciate the view.

His sharp eyes wandered up your long, bare legs, stopping briefly at the hem of a familiar shirt. Ah, so that’s where his jersey went.

The material was flowing down your body effortlessly, covering you up to around your upper thighs. He’d be lying if the idea of you wearing nothing underneath to cover the fat of your ass and your pretty pussy didn’t get him half-hard again already.

Baggy as your choice of attire was, it hung loose around your neckline. You’d swept your hair out of the way, into a messy ponytail—one he could already picture grabbing tightly to push your little mouth down his girth, much like last night.

Pink and purple constellations peeked through. Distinct marks, clearly the outline of his teeth.

He stepped closer to your unsuspecting form, hands already twitching to touch you again.

“Morning, sunshine,” Ben hummed at last, the gravel of his voice still raspy and deep from just waking up properly.

Honestly, his brain was still a but foggy, whereas other parts of his body were wide awake in comparison.

You flinched slightly, though your tension eased immediately as your eyes met his over your shoulder.

His smile was easy, his green eyes dropping to the curve of your lips. Even at the morning after he could still vividly remember them stretching over his length, glistening with spit as you had drooled all over his cock.

“What’s the rush today?” Ben asked, whilst his big arms caged you in, one hand on each side of you gripping the edge of the counter. “Didn’t want to stay in bed with me a bit longer, princess?”

“Thought I would make some breakfast,” you replied with a smile that was both shy and cheeky. “Was gonna bring it back to bed.”

He was all muscle and skin behind you, pressing against you until the kitchen counter bit into your hips.

“I think I know what I wanna have for breakfast,” Ben purred. His breath was hot and heavy against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His teeth grazed your tender skin, teasing the bruises and lovebites until you whimpered softly.

Who knew there was an artist in Ben on top of all that superstrength? How else could one describe the canvas of your skin, littered in hickeys?

Before you even had a chance of reacting, Ben shoved the bowl of fruit out of the way and seized you by the hips.

“Turn ‘round for me, dollface,” he demanded, despite manhandling you into his desired position himself.

He spun you in his arms, then lifted you up with ease, sitting you up on the counter. The cool marble surface was a stark contrast against your warm skin, even more so as your bare cunt brushed against it and you flushed further.

Wasting no more time, Ben’s large hands flew to your thighs and spread you open.

Much like your throat, your inner thighs were plastered in evidence of last night’s escapades. A scan of the red marks at the apex of your thighs would probably run successful, if anyone were to test his damn fingerprints. No wonder, considering how hard he had to grab you yesterday, hold you down so you wouldn’t fly off the mattress thanks to his tongue devouring you.

His cock twitched in to life in his boxers just reminiscing over your taste. Definitely better than any fucking strawberry, much sweeter too.

Yeah, he was definitely right. Only breakfast he was interested in eating up was you.

“No panties, huh?,” he quipped, licking his lips.

You scoffed, though with a grin: “Kinda your fault, remember?”

“Touché, princess,” he chuckled and slipped his fingers beneath your shirt. His shirt. “Guess we’re even then, damn thief.”

“At least you can have it back,” you shrugged playfully, “my panties are gone forever.”

A laugh erupted from Ben then and a spark ignited in his eyes. “Good riddance, if you ask me,” he countered. “Not like you need them anyway, they’d only be in the way. I like you without them just fine.”

As if punctuating his statement, his fingers curled around the underside of your thighs, lifting your legs slightly. He sank down to his knees and pulled you closer, hoisting your legs over his shoulders.

And, Christ, you were already glistening, straight up honey for him to enjoy. Always so eager for him, taking whatever he decided to give you like a good girl. That’s what he loved about you. It was addictive.

To your surprise, he started slow—in the beginning, anyway. His lips brushed over the inner of your thigh, almost gently, coaxing a shaky exhale from you and giving you the chance to relax in his grip.

“Thank the Lord for a good fuckin’ meal, or whatever,” he muttered, though he was talking more to himself.

You were only able to cry out weakly as he dove right in, his wet tongue gliding through your folds like he was a man starved. One of your hands shot to his head, fisting his tousled hair as he slurped away.

You moaned his name like it was something holy, although you were his altar he worshipped on his knees.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped, briefly kissing your sensitive clit. “Swear, this pussy ‘s better than coffee.”

Your thighs were trembling around his head. Your body honestly still ached from hours of Soldier Boy pounding into you, the smallest touch leaving you sizzling. His stamina was downright cruel and you thought it quite unfair that he was already back to full energy while you struggled to contain your first orgasm.

He had barely touched you, but you were already embarrassingly close to crumbling.

You were sensitive still, which Ben used to his advantage.

He lapped at your core once again, tongue flat against your heat and milking you dry. Just before the tight coil in your lower belly could snap, he pulled back, leaving you all whiny and breathless.

“You know I usually like my coffee black,” he spoke as he rose back to his feet, standing tall between your shaking legs and pulling his boxers down just enough to free his throbbing dick. “But I think I wanna add some cream today.”

Ben guided the tip through your slick a few times, teasing and coating himself in your essence. You bucked your hips to meet his touch, desperate to finally feel him fill you. When he did, you gasped audibly, leaving your mouth open and vulnerable for his kiss.

You blushed tasting yourself on his mouth, still fresh and tangy.

He claimed your lips in a heated kiss, teeth colliding and tongues pressing hungrily. All while thrusting in and out of you relentlessly. He pawed at your hips, your waist, everywhere he could reach. Because what where a couple more fingerprints added to the ones that already decorated you? The evidence of you belonging to him. The more the merrier.

Though you struggled to sit upright, you knew Ben had a good hold on you. Your arms snaked around his neck and he took it upon himself to slip his hands under your ass, lift you off the counter, and carry you back to bed. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around him in the process.

Once there, the two of you collapsed onto the mattress, still a tangle of limbs, neither of you knowing where one body began and the other ended.

Ben pushed you down and slammed into you. Hard. Your back arched, your moans echoing off the bedroom walls. Your neighbors must’ve hated you—first you were robbing them of a peaceful night, now you were at it again, like rabbits.

The drag of his cock against your velvety walls was delicious, stroke for stroke making you see stars and every fiber of you tighten.

Ben’s gaze dropped down to where your bodies were connected, mesmerized by the sight of him sinking into you over and over again. As much as he had to give, you were taking all of it, which never failed to impress him. You always accommodated his size so well, getting stretched inch for inch, as if you were shaped for his cock.

“Christ on a cross, ‘s like you were made for me, huh?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, which was, bluntly put, swiped clear at this point. Fucked stupid, you didn’t have it in you to produce a coherent thought, let alone form a proper sentence. All you felt, all you were at that moment, was the impact of his hips against yours, the pleasure building in your middle.

What a beautiful mess he’d turned you into, eyes glazed over with tears pricking their corners, swollen lips parted yet only able to spill broken moan after broken moan.

When Ben slipped his hand between your lower halves and let his thumb rub tight circles over your clit, you were gone. Shuttering, you almost spasmed under him, convulsing and crying and falling apart right then and there.

You reaching your climax triggered Ben’s own peak, his hips chasing his high in the warmth of your walls. One more thrust and he followed shortly after, stilling his hips and spilling deep within you.

After riding out both of your orgasms, he dropped down next to you. The sweat sticking to his forehead did not dull the glow of his expression whatsoever. He turned to you, as if admiring his artwork. His grin was wide and proud, the white of his teeth nearly blinding you in the best way possible.

“Gotta say, sweetheart,” he declared. “I could start every day with a breakfast like this.”

Your attempt at catching your breath was interrupted by your own soft laughter. That guy was truly insatiable. Not that you’d have it any other way.

“I guess our actual breakfast is long cold now, though,” you huffed, less disappointed and more bemused.

“Here’s a deal for ya,” Ben started with a wink. “I get my jersey back, you get your coffee. Hot.”

With a snort, you shook your head. Not only had you never seen Ben actually operate the coffee machine, ever, you also saw his offer for what it truly was. You knew what would happen if you were so much as lift the hem of that jersey again.

“And, what? Risk myself turning into another round of dessert the second I return your shirt?”

Ben’s proud grin widened, his eyes heavy on you as he scanned you from head to toe, as if assessing the suggestion. He then shrugged playfully. It definitely sounded like a win-win in his book. “What can I say, I might make myself a career as a salesman after all, don’t ya think?”

Soldier Boy (Ben) Taglist:

@alwaysdaydreamingoffiction @angelicjackles @blueschevy @jackles010378 @jollyhunter

@justwhisperingfantasies @ladykitana90

Want to be added to the taglist? Fill out this >FORM< Want to be removed from the taglist? Send a DM Not sure if you're on the taglist? Check here

[arcannaa]

Good God I need this treatment.

Stamina

PAIRING: Soldier Boy/Ben x Fem!Reader GENRE: Smut (18+ CONTENT) TO NOTE/WARNINGS: PWP, petnames, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), multiple orgasms, multiple creampies, overstimulation, not betaread WORD COUNT: 777 (make a wish) PROMPT: 6) marathon session (they just fucking keep going, babyyyy) A/N: This was an anonymous request. Someone wanted either prompt 6 or 17 with either Dean, Soldier Boy, or Beau. You can find prompt 17 + Soldier Boy here! I won't be accepting new requests for the nsfw prompt list because I have enough to work through lmao. I'm so slow with these aaaa, sorry OTL CREDIT & LINKS: Dividers by cafekitsune ─〃★ Soldier Boy gifs ─〃★ Join the taglist ─〃★ Soldier Boy Masterlist

The first time it happened you thought it was hot, maybe a little funny—in the best way possible.

And it was, his greed and how insatiable he was. Except you could barely keep up with him. You weren’t sure just how much more of this marathon you could take.

You, absolutely wrecked beneath Ben, your skin flushed and red and hot, and your lungs aching as you gasped for air. Him, perfectly fine. Because of course Ben didn’t even break a sweat. His breathing was only slightly ragged, voice husky as he whispered filthy nothings into your ear.

You were still recovering from another one of your earth-shattering orgasms, your walls still pulsating around his dick. You’d lost count of how many times he made you cum—or if you even had another one in you.

Much unlike Ben, who was still hungry for more. Even though he had just painted your insides white, he was still throbbing. Still hard.

Still eager for more.

Ben’s iron grip on you didn’t falter. In fact, he pulled you even closer and pushed impossibly deeper, until his tip practically bullied your tender cervix. A soft half-squeal-half-chuckle escaped your kiss-swollen lips.

“Easy,” you huffed, breathlessly, but with a smirk on your lips.

“Not a chance, babydoll,” Ben grinned. “’m not halfway done with you.”

Your protest died on your tongue the moment he pulled out and slammed back into you.

Sensitive as you were, your back arched. The lewd squelching noise caused the blush on your cheeks to darken tenfold. You could feel it dripping from you, his warm seed mixed with your own essence, the fluids creating a slick ring around his cock.

“Ben!,” you giggled, your sweaty hands desperately searching for an anchor in his shoulders.

“I could do this all day,” he shrugged and pushed back into you and fuck if that didn’t do it for you.

Curse him and his superpowers. It was so unfair how you were all worn out and tired while he seemed to find fuel in ruining you. Damn supes and their stamina.

“S-slow down at least?,” you whined, twitching and squirming under his hungry touch.

“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t do slow.” As if to emphasize, he punctuated his sentence with yet another snap of his hips against yours. It earned him that sweet blend of a moan and a sob from you, one that spurred him to repeat the movement.

His pace was relentless as it was during the first round, barely leaving you a chance to catch your breath. Each hiccup and moan was swallowed by his mouth on yours, his kisses just as demanding as his thrusts.

“Don’t worry, dollface,” Ben whispered against your lips, with that intoxicating rasp of his, his chest rumbling and pushed tightly against yours. His tongue trailed down your jawline, licking across the slope of your neck, nibbling along your collarbone.

You threw your head back into the pillows, sinking into the silk underneath your tender body. Ben pushed you deeper into the mattress with each roll of his hips. Your thighs were trembling around his waist, but his large hands kept them pressed neatly against his skin.

“All you gotta do—” Thrust. “’s lay back—” Thrust. The inside of your thighs were messy and wet, your juices leaking onto the sheets beneath you. “And lemme make you feel good.”

Unable to respond, you could only give a weak nod. It earned you a soothing kiss to your temple, an affectionate gesture in the middle of his relentless claiming.

“Atta girl,” he hummed, pleased. “Taking me so well.”

And you did.

Every inch of him, every drop, all he had to offer. You swore you nearly blacked out when his movement stilled and he spilled a second load into your sopping heat. He talked you through it, though the words barely registered.

“Gonna pump you so full, you’ll be leaking.”

“Give me one more, babydoll, that’s it.”

“So fuckin’ tight, ‘s like you were made f’me.”

His promises and praises blended together, fogging up your mind until everything of you was literally filled with everything of him. His warmth, his voice, his scent, his cum—you fell apart under him again, body shivering in his embrace.

Ben gave you a moment to calm down, his cock still nestled deep inside of you. Still throbbing. Still hard. And you knew he wasn’t halfway done with you. By far.

“Think you can take another one?,” he grinned, proud and still hungry.

Clenching around him at the mere idea, you bit your lower lip and nodded. “Please…,” you whimpered softly and Christ on a cross, your wish was his demand.

Soldier Boy (Ben) Taglist:

@alwaysdaydreamingoffiction @ambiguous-avery @angelicjackles @bejeweledinterludes @blueschevy

@deanswifeyy @foxyjwls007 @ifritpng @jackles010378 @jollyhunter

@justwhisperingfantasies @kamisobsessed @ladykitana90 @lunaleah @mahi-wayy

@multiversefanfics @slut4axkles @supernotnatural2005

Want to be added to the taglist? Fill out this >FORM< Want to be removed from the taglist? Send a DM Not sure if you're on the taglist? Check here

[arcannaa]

I'm so fucking insane about him

[arcannaa]

all i can think about are his biceps….

biting them, laying my head on them, digging my nails into them.

how they look when he stretches, arms overhead, t-shirt lifting just enough to show off his happy trail. how safe you’d feel curled up next to him, cheek against the warmth of his muscle.

how you’d cling to them when he carries you, effortlessly, like it’s nothing. thighs around his waist, your cheek smushed against the crook of his arm.

falling asleep on his outstretched arm, drool seeping down from your lips as you fall asleep, like your own personal pillow.

how he’d use them to his advantage when he fucks you from behind. hook his arm around your neck. not to choke you hard, but to hold you in place.

to pull you in closer, cheeks squished right into the warm, solid crease of his bicep. his muscle flexing around your throat everytime he drives into you. it’s not rough or cruel, it’s possessive.

always a quiet reminder that he could ruin you if he wanted, but right now he just wants to keep you close.