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diawinchester217 · 2 months ago

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its a supernatural summer i fear (again)

knees, baby ⋆˙⟡ ☾

dean winchester x fem! reader

ꕤ summary: dean comes home wrecked after a rough hunt. he’s exhausted, and barely holding it together; until you drop to your knees and remind him exactly who he belongs to. basically, desperate fucking in a shitty motel room.

♯ warnings: mdni!! explicit smut, soft dom! dean, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, praise kink, like, actually so much praise it’s embarrassing, mutual desperation, floor sex, dean’s very unrealistic stamina, creampie, this fic is 50% sex and 50% feelings, aftercare included bc we’re not animals.

♯ notes: i wrote this while kicking my feet in the air like a deranged housewife. i am unwell. may we all have a dean winchester to stuff us full and kiss us slow after. (｡- .•)

You hear his boots long before he opens the motel door.

The low, dragging thump of them, heavy like his body’s barely holding together. The hunt had gone bad; not fatal, but messy. Too many vamps. Too much blood. Dean didn’t call. Didn’t text. You waited by the window for hours, pacing in his shirt, heart in your throat, praying.

And now he’s here.

He kicks the door shut behind him and leans against it like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. He’s a mess, mud on his jeans, dried blood across his temple, knuckles cracked open and dripping. That forest green shirt you like so much is torn across the chest, and his mouth is set in this brutal, tired line.

But when he sees you— bare legs, wide eyes, that old tee of his riding too high on your thighs, his whole body softens. Just a little.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says low, like he’s afraid to say it too loud and scare you off. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You cross the room without thinking, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face to his chest. He’s solid and warm and alive, and you can finally breathe again.

“I thought you were—” you start, but he cuts you off with a kiss to your hair.

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m here.”

He leans back just enough to look at you, thumb brushing under your eye like he knows you’ve been crying. Then his gaze drops. To your mouth, to the way your hands are already sliding under his shirt, touching him like he’s precious.

And he’s so damn tired, but the way you look at him? Like he’s still your hero, even bloody and broken? He can’t help it. He starts to get hard right there.

“You wanna take care of me, baby?” His voice is lower now, rougher, like it’s dragging over gravel. “That what you need?”

You don’t answer. You just sink to your knees in front of him, hands already tugging at his belt, slow and deliberate.

“Ohh, fuck,” he groans, his head falling back for just a second. “Knew you’d do this. Knew you’d be waiting, fuckin’ angel on her knees, huh?”

You free him from his jeans, and he’s already half-hard, thick and heavy in your hand. The sight of it makes your mouth water. You pump him once, twice, slow and gentle, before leaning in and licking a long stripe from base to tip.

Dean shudders, one big hand finding the back of your head. Not to push. Just to feel. “Jesus, sweetheart. You got no idea what you do to me..”

You take him in slowly, letting the weight of him fill your mouth, your jaw going slack as he hits the back of your throat. His hips twitch forward, like his body’s reacting before he can even think.

“God, your mouth. Your fuckin’ mouth’s made for me,” he groans, jaw tight. “So fuckin’ warm. So good.”

You hum around him, sucking deep and wet, letting drool spill down your chin just to hear him swear again. Your fingers dig into his thighs for balance as he gets harder, thicker on your tongue, his breathing going rough.

“You’re my fuckin’ dream, y’know that?” he pants, voice cracked with emotion. “Little thing like you… taking me this deep? Pretty eyes, pretty lips, just for me.”

You moan softly, and the vibration makes him snap, his hand tightening in your hair as his thighs tense. He’s fighting not to fuck your mouth right there, and you can feel it in the way his hips rock forward once, then again.

“Shit—shit, baby, I’m not gonna last if you keep—”

You don’t let up. You look up at him through your lashes, cheeks hollowing as you swallow him deep, spit pooling down your chin, dripping onto your chest.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it— fuck, m’gonna cum— shit, baby— fuckin’ take it—” He groans so deep it rattles in his chest, and then he’s spilling down your throat, his hand gripping your hair like it’s the only thing anchoring him to earth. You swallow every drop, not breaking eye contact once.

You pull off with a soft pop, licking your lips, eyes glassy with affection and spit and heat. Dean sinks to his knees in front of you.

“C’mere,” he breathes, pulling you into his lap, cupping your face like you’re something holy. He kisses you like a man starved, tongue tasting himself on you, moaning into your mouth like he wants to crawl inside you and stay there.

“Need you, baby,” he mutters against your lips. “Need you on me. Right now.”

You don’t even hesitate, you straddle him right there on the motel carpet, your knees bracketing his hips, tugging that ruined green button-up off his shoulders. He winces when it drags over a healing cut, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. He can’t. He mouths at your lips, your jaw, your throat like he’ll die if he doesn’t taste every inch of you.

“You sure?” you whisper, your breath hitching as you grind your hips against the bulge growing again beneath your soaked panties.

His hands slide up your bare thighs, settling on your waist. “Sweetheart, I haven’t felt right since I left this room. All I want… all I fucking want is you.”

You reach down, push your panties down low, and lift your hips just enough to line him up. You’re already so wet, aching and open for him.

“Go slow, baby,” he breathes, eyes locked on your face. “Wanna feel every fuckin’ second.” You sink down onto him— inch by inch, and it knocks the wind out of both of you.

Dean’s head falls back with a guttural groan. “Jesus Christ, you feel unreal.”

Your hands settle on his shoulders as you start to move, slow and gentle, rolling your hips in tight circles. He fills you so perfectly it’s obscene, thick and deep and hot inside you, dragging against every sweet spot like his body was made to live in yours.

His eyes flutter open, and he looks wrecked. Pink in the cheeks, chest heaving, lips parted like he’s been starved of air.

“You’re killin’ me, baby,” he moans, hands roaming up your spine, down to your hips, holding you like you’re the only thing tethering him to this earth. “So fuckin’ tight, so good, just… yours, I’m yours, okay?”

You ride him slow, not chasing anything, just feeling. Just being. Your forehead brushes his. He’s breathing like he’s about to cry. And maybe you are too.

“You love me?” you whisper.

His arms wrap fully around you, dragging you closer, fucking deep into you even from under. “Love you so much,” he growls. “Been in love with you since the second you looked at me like I wasn’t broken.”

You bury your face in his neck as you keep grinding on him, your body trembling with how full you feel. “You’re not broken,” you whisper.

He groans, desperate, in awe of you. “Gonna cum inside you,” he pants, voice shaking. “Fill you up, sweetheart. Gonna stay buried right here, keep you stuffed with me. You want that?”

You nod into his shoulder, kissing his throat. “Want it so bad.”

He holds you tight and thrusts up hard, once, twice, and you moan into his ear as he spills inside you, hot and thick and endless. His arms lock around you as he comes, hips twitching, burying his face in your shoulder like he can’t handle it.

“Fuckfuckfuck, I love you— love you, baby, fuck—”

When it’s over, you stay just like that. Breathing hard, still joined, your chests heaving against each other. He doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans back against the wall and pulls you with him, cradling you in his arms like something fragile.

You both stay on the motel floor for a while, his cum leaking out of you slowly, your thighs still shaking, his hand rubbing lazy circles on your lower back.

Dean’s arms wrap you tighter as you both slump against the grimy motel wall, the world outside fading into nothing. His chest rises and falls with slow, heavy breaths, your heartbeat pounding in your ears, steady against his.

He presses a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, his lips warm and rough like he’s memorizing every part of you. “You okay, baby?” His voice is low, husky, filled with something that sounds like relief and awe all tangled up.

You nod, resting your head against his collarbone, listening to the steady thump of his heart under your ear. “Yeah. I’m good. With you.”

He lets out this soft grunt, like a laugh mixed with a sigh. “Damn right you are.” His fingers ghost along your spine, tracing lazy patterns that send shivers down your skin.

For a minute, you just sit there, tangled up in each other, the silence between you filled with quiet warmth. Then Dean pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, those green eyes, glossy and soft.

His breath hitches, his hand tightening around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. “You’re my whole world, sweetheart. When you’re with me, nothing else matters.”

You press your lips to his, slow and tender, tasting him, still warm, still yours. The kiss lingers, full of promises and comfort, and when you pull away, Dean’s forehead rests against yours again.

“I wanna hold you all night,” he whispers. “Tell you how much I love you till you fall asleep. Let you know you’re safe. Let you know you’re never alone.”

You sigh, heart swelling. “I want that too.”

Dean’s fingers trail down your arm, his touch feather-light but grounding. He moves so carefully, like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. His thumb strokes your cheek, wiping away a stray tear you didn’t even realize had fallen.

“Don’t ever forget, baby,” he says, voice breaking just a little. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You bury your face in his neck, breathing in the scent of leather, sweat, and something soft, “I don’t forget.”

Minutes stretch, but time doesn’t matter here. Just Dean’s hands in your hair, his whispered love, your steady breathing against his chest.

Eventually, he presses a kiss to your hairline, then pulls a threadbare blanket from the bedspread behind you. Wrapping you both up like a cocoon, he holds you close, humming low and soothing.

“Sleep if you want. I’m right here.”

You close your eyes, feeling his heartbeat slow, matching yours. Safe, warm, and loved.

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