scaredcacticle - Tumblr blog

scaredcacticle · 13 days ago

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𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽

summary: you and logan live together in the canadian mountains. he wakes up in the morning, but you're not beside him.

content: SMUT, implied age gap (reader calls logan "old man"), possessive logan, rough sex, riding, logan has a huge d, anal play, creampie, tiny bit of cockwarming, fluffy ending

word count: 2.7k

author's note: i struggled writing the summary pls but it is basically soft dom logan! i envisioned origins logan and it makes the most sense with the story but whatever logan makes your heart happy. i hope you guys enjoy!

Logan wakes up to the sound of birds chirping outside, the sun streaming in through the dainty white curtains that line the large bedroom window. He smirks and stretches out his long limbs, reaching over to grab you. His favourite way to start the day is with his head between your thighs, not stopping until you’re a sobbing mess beneath him.

But to his surprise, you’re not there. His ears perk up, but he can’t hear you either. He sniffs, his brow furrowing. You’re outside…but not alone.

You woke up before Logan, a rare occurrence. You’re a night owl, usually choosing to stay up while your boyfriend crashes beside you. But this morning, you awoke to the sound of his soft snores still echoing around the room.

You had crept downstairs with the intention of surprising Logan with breakfast in bed, but you got distracted when you saw a baby bear lingering by the garden outside. Without slipping on shoes, still dressed in a sheer nightgown, you stepped outside and approached it. It didn’t run from you. Your heart hammering in your chest, you watched the cub with curiosity. The wildlife in the Canadian mountains fascinated you.

Logan knows something isn’t right the moment his feet hit the floor. That cub – wild animals don’t just linger like that unless they’re sick or something else worse is nearby. And if there’s a baby, there’s a momma not far behind. His instincts kick into high gear as he yanks on a pair of jeans and storms towards the door.

Barefoot himself, he steps onto the porch, nostrils flaring as he catches the faintest whiff of danger in the crisp mountain air. And there you are, standing too close to that thing, looking like some ethereal woodland creature yourself in that piece of silk, all shimmer and delicate limbs. Christ, you make him crazy.

“Sweetheart,” he growls, voice low but sharp enough to cut through your trance. “Step back.” His claws itch beneath his skin, ready if needed.

You jump slightly at the sound of Logan’s voice, turning wide-eyed towards him. The movement spooks the bear, who scurries off into the trees. For a second, disappointment flickers across your face – you’d been mesmerized by its presence – but then you register the tension in Logan’s stance.

“Oh! Sorry! I just…it looked so sweet,” you murmur as you start shuffling back, bare feet caressing the dewy grass. You tuck a strand of messy hair behind your ear, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” Then, softer, “Were you gonna stab a baby bear?”

Logan exhales sharply through his nose, half-amused despite the adrenaline still humming in his veins. He strides towards you, closing the distance with purposeful steps. “Didn’t want to, but I would if it meant keepin’ ya safe,” he mutters, catching your wrist to tug you closer. His thumb brushes over the bone there. Your skin is cold from the morning chill, and he frowns. “You’re shakin’. And barefoot. In the goddamn wilderness.”

His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, forcing your gaze to meet his. “What were you thinkin’, huh?”

Your cheeks flush under his touch. You lean into his palm, though your lower lip juts out in a small pout – part defiance, part sheepishness. “I was thinking…” You hesitate, tangling your fingers in his. “...that maybe bears aren’t as scary as everybody says? And also…I wanted to make you pancakes. Before you woke up. As a surprise. But then I saw the cub and…I got distracted.”

Logan shakes his head, a rough chuckle escaping his lips. He pulls you tighter against his chest. You’re freezing. Without warning, he scoops you up bridal-style, ignoring your squawk of protest as he carries you back inside.

“Pancakes, huh?” he grunts, kicking the door shut with his heel before depositing you onto the couch. He sits beside you, his hands moving to rub warmth back into your arms, calloused palms dragging gently over goosebumped skin. “Bears ain’t pets, baby. Especially not here.”

You tilt your head as his hands work over your skin. “Mmm, yeah, pancakes,” you mumble. A smirk plays at your lips. “But then you interrupted my adventure. Now how am I supposed to prove I can tame wild beasts?” Your fingers twirl through the hairs on his chest, teasing. “Guess you’ll just have to be my wild beast today.”

That smirk of yours does things to him. “Tame me, huh?” A low growl rumbles in his chest as he leans in close, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Good fuckin’ luck, princess.”

But even as he says it, his hands slide down to cradle the back of your thighs, hoisting you higher against him. The couch creaks as he drops into it, settling you squarely in his lap.

You gasp softly, arching into him. Your fingers twist in his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. “Is that a challenge, old man?” Laughter spills from your lips as you shift, feeling the evidence of his desire press against you. “Because I seem to recall you folding pretty quick last time I–”

Your words dissolve into a startled yelp as Logan nips at your neck. His large hands clamp down on your hips, holding you still before you can grind that perfect little ass against him again and really set him off.

“Last time you what?” he rasps. He lifts one hand, a metallic snikt! echoing around you as he extends a single claw. He hooks it under the strap of your nightgown, threatening you to keep running that mouth. “Say it. Or don’t – either way, you’re gonna regret startin’ this before breakfast.”

Not that he minds skipping meals when you taste sweeter than any pancake ever could.

Your pulse thrums, pupils dilating as his claw teases the fabric separating you. You know better than anyone how quickly restraint gives way to raw need with him – how one move could leave you pinned beneath him, begging in seconds.

“Last time I…” You drag your bottom lip through your teeth, watching his gaze track the movement hungrily. When you speak again, it’s barely above a whisper – taunting, triumphant. “...rode your cock until you forgot your own name.”

A feral grin splits Logan’s face as his claw slices through the flimsy straps, your breasts spilling out as the silk material falls around your hips. Logan rips the rest off of you, sending the scraps fluttering to the floor. Your gasp fuels the fire burning low in his core. “That a fact?”

One hand fists in your hair, tipping your head back to expose your throat – his teeth find purchase there instantly, sucking a bruise onto your skin. His arm bands around your waist, flipping you so fast the room blurs. Your back hits the cushions, legs splayed around his hips as he looms over you, breathing ragged.

“Show me then,” he dares you, grinding down hard enough to wrench a moan from your lips. “Prove you got what it takes to tame me.”

The shock of the sudden movement sends a thrill down your spine. Your hands fly up to grip his biceps, feeling the flex of muscle beneath warm skin. He grinds against you and your head falls back, hair fanning around you like a halo – such a contrast to the sinful picture you make sprawled wantonly beneath him.

“Fuck, Lo–” you pant, rolling your hips up to meet his thrusts. The friction is delicious agony, stoking the heat building between your thighs.

The sight of you laid out like some kind of offering – tousled hair, lips swollen from biting them so hard – it nearly undoes him right then and there. His cock throbs insistently against the zipper of his jeans, straining towards your heat like a magnet.

“C’mon, babygirl,” he coaxes, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His facial hair rasps over your sensitive skin as he breathes you in, filling his lungs with the scent of your arousal and something else uniquely you. “Gonna ride me properly, or just lay there lookin’ pretty?”

His words ignite something primal in you – a hunger to dominate, to claim, to mark. With a burst of strength born from desperation, you reverse positions so you’re straddling him again. Your nails rake down his bare chest, leaving red welts in their wake as you grind down hard.

You yank his zipper down, freeing his aching cock. It slaps against your palm, hot and heavy and perfect. Pre-come beads at the tip, smearing over your fingers as you stroke him from root to crown.

His head falls back against the couch with a dull thud, eyes squeezing shut as sensation overwhelms him. The sting of your nails, the slick glide of your hand – it’s almost too much. “Shit–” he grits out, hips bucking into your fist. Every muscle in his body tenses, fighting the urge to flip you back over and pound into your tight little cunt until neither of you can think straight. But no. This is your show. And fuck if he doesn’t love to see you take control.

You drink in every twitch, every strained muscle, every laboured breath that puffs from his lips. Power surges through your veins, addictive and electric. Slowly, you position yourself above him and you sink down. Your walls stretch around his girth, drawing a guttural moan from deep within your chest. “F-Fuuuck–”

It feels like being split open, filled to the brim with pure, molten heat. Your head drops forward, forehead pressed to his shoulder as you adjust to the intrusion. Nails dig crescent moons into his skin, anchoring yourself against the overwhelming fullness. “S-So big…” Whimpers spill from your lips. No matter how many times you fuck him, his massive cock always makes it feel like the first time.

Logan’s large hands fly to your hips, gripping tight. It takes every ounce of his willpower not to slam up into you, to let you set the pace. Sweat beads at his temple, jaw clenched so hard it hurts. “Easy, baby,” he manages. Thumbs stroke soothing circles over your hips, trying to calm the tremors wracking your frame. “Take what ya need. I got ya.”

And you know he does. Always. No matter how wild you get, no matter how far you push – Logan will always be right there, grounding you, catching you when you fall.

You begin to move slowly. Up, down, up, down – the rhythm is stuttering at first, your body still adjusting to the invasion. But with each stroke, your confidence grows. After a few moments, your hips start to circle, grind, and snap in a blur of motion, milking him for all he’s worth.

“Y-Yes–” You throw your head back. The sounds your pussy makes are obscene – wet, sloppy, utterly depraved. “Lo, oh God, Lo–”

Pleading, demanding, begging. All of it. More of it.

Logan’s vision blurs at the edges, reduced to the singular focus of your face contorted in ecstasy. The noises you make – Jesus Christ. You’ll be the death of him.

His hands migrate to your ass, urging you faster, harder. “Ride me, sweetheart,” he growls, teeth bared in a snarl. His hips surge upwards to meet yours, driving deeper, stretching you wider. Fingers slip into your crack, tracing the puckered hole hidden there.

The near intrusion at your rear entrance sends a bolt of lightning straight to your core. You yelp, a high-pitched wail that borders on pain but is all pleasure. “L-Lo, fuck–” Your movements become frantic, bordering on erratic. Hips piston wildly, chasing the high only he can give you.

Logan pulls his hand back to lick his thumb before sliding it back down, breaching your tight ring of muscle and pushing it in knuckle-deep. The dual penetration sends you spiraling, your cunt squeezing him. It’s too much. Too good.

He smirks. “C’mon, babygirl.” His hand tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat. His teeth graze the skin. “Come for me.”

The last threads of your control shatter. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, stealing the air from your lungs and the strength from your limbs. You convulse violently, inner muscles clamping down on his length like a silk fist. Clear fluid gushes around his shaft, soaking his groin and the couch beneath you. “I-I’m coming! Oh God, Logan!” you wail, voice cracking on a sob.

Your climax triggers his own. He buries himself to the hilt, grinding his cock against your cervix as he empties himself inside you with a primal groan. His hot seed fills you, painting your insides white and leaking out where you’re joined. His fingertips dig into your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he continues pumping his load into you.

“Fuck, babe–” He throws his head back. Pleasure crashes through him like a tsunami, wiping out all coherent thought. All he knows is the wet heat engulfing him, the exquisite pressure, the way your body yields to him. His girl. His everything.

You collapse against his chest, boneless and spent, heart pounding. “Mmmph…fuck…” you mumble, nuzzling against his neck. “You’re such a fucking animal.” Your hips give a feeble wiggle – but you know better. Logan will stay buried inside of you as long as he damn well pleases.

“Animal, huh?” he murmurs, lips brushing against your ear. A satisfied rumble vibrates through his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His cock twitches inside you, still semi-hard and unready to relinquish its prize just yet. “Maybe you’re right. But you love it.”

His teeth nip at your earlobe, tugging playfully before soothing the sting with his tongue. “Admit it, princess. Ain’t nobody else who can satisfy you like I can.”

You let out a breathless laugh, fingertips trailing lazily across his torso. His ego doesn’t need stroking, but you’ll indulge him anyway.

“Mmm…maybe,” you concede coyly, shifting just enough to make him groan. Your lips curl into a smirk. “But I pity the poor bastard who’d like to try.”

A warning growl builds in his throat at your smartass remark. “Pity,” he scoffs, nipping at your shoulder hard enough to leave another mark among the constellation already decorating your skin. “We both know you wouldn’t last five minutes with some city boy.” A deliberate roll of his hips emphasizes his point. “Nah, princess. You need a real man. Someone who ain’t afraid to put you in your place when you get too mouthy.”

Your breath comes out in a shaky sigh, caught somewhere between a moan and a whimper. The possessive tone in his voice wraps around you like a chain, pulling you under. You want to argue – bite back with something sharp and cunning – but all you can do is press closer, craving more of his dominance, his ownership.

“Shut up,” you mutter half-heartedly. Your nails scratch lightly over his stomach. “You win anyway. I didn’t tame you.”

A deep chuckle rumbles through him as he loosens his grip enough to let you settle against his chest. Your heartbeat syncs with his, steady and sure. “Nope,” he hums, brushing a kiss against your temple. “Not this time, but you came pretty damn close.” His fingers thread lazily through your tangled strands, combing them back into place. “Now quit talkin’ and go make me those pancakes.”

You let out an offended squeak, swatting at his chest as you lift your head to glare at him – with all the authority a post-orgasmic mess can muster. “Excuse me?” Your brow arches, lips twitching. There’s a playful fire in your eyes. “You just used me for sex and now you still want me to cook for you? God, at least put a ring on it then, Lo.”

A flicker of something softer passes by your gaze, but you shake it off with a smirk. “Okay, fine.”

As you start to move, Logan pulls you closer. He tightens his hold on you, rolling you slowly, his semi-hard cock still inside of you, until you’re tucked safely beneath him. He thinks about what is hidden under the floorboards in the bedroom – a place you never think to check, where he hides his cigars and other important items – like the diamond ring he purchased a few months ago.

“Go and make the pancakes, brat,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the tip of your nose. “And when you’re done, I’ll tell you where I’ve been hidin’ that ring.”

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scaredcacticle · 2 months ago

Text

Gonna start barking like a dog ong

✨Wound a little tight✨

Summary: Tossing and turning, sleep’s a distant dream with a baby kicking nonstop. But Dean knows exactly how to wear you out—one way or another.

Pairing: Dean x Pregnant Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language

Word Count: 6529

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

The bunker was silent, the kind of quiet that made every little sound seem louder than it was. Dean’s arm was slung over your belly as he tried to sleep, his face half-buried in the pillow.

Meanwhile, no matter how much you adjusted, nothing felt comfortable. Your belly seemed to have grown three sizes overnight, and the baby inside had apparently decided to practice for a soccer championship. You shifted again, trying to ease the pressure on your ribs, only to feel Dean’s arm tighten around you. He let out a low groan.

“Y/N”, he mumbled, his voice gravelly from sleep. “What are you doing?”.

“Trying not to lose my mind”, you muttered, stifling a frustrated sigh. “This kid’s got a vendetta against my internal organs”.

Dean cracked one eye open and tilted his head just enough to glare at you playfully. “You know, some of us are trying to sleep. Not all of us are being used as a human punching bag”.

You rolled your eyes, pushing his arm off of you with more force than necessary. “Oh, I’m sorry, Dean. Didn’t mean to interrupt your beauty sleep. Must be exhausting being the one not pregnant”.

He snorted, propping himself up on one elbow and rubbing his face with his free hand. “Yeah, because carrying a kid means you get to keep me up too, huh? Great deal. Love that for me”.

You shot him a look, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Maybe you should try growing a person inside you and see how well you sleep”.

“Hey, I’m already carrying this family with my charm and good looks”, he said, flashing that cocky grin of his that always made you want to simultaneously slap and kiss him. “Don’t need to grow a kid on top of it”.

“Oh, shut up”, you grumbled, flopping onto your side and wincing when the baby delivered another well-aimed kick. “Your kid’s got your attitude, by the way. Thought you should know”.

Dean let out a soft laugh, his hand lazily sliding down to rest on your bump. His fingers brushed over the bare skin where your shirt had ridden up, his touch warm and familiar. "Well, what do you expect?", he said, grinning as he glanced down at your belly. "Kid's a Winchester. Stubbornness is basically a family tradition".

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitched despite yourself. "Yeah, well, maybe he could inherit something useful instead. Like patience. Or the ability to let me sleep".

Dean smirked, leaning closer, his hand still tracing slow, absentminded circles over your stomach. "Patience isn't exactly my strong suit either, sweetheart. You should've known what you were signing up for". He tilted his head, pretending to listen intently. "And judging by these kicks, he´s already gearing up to outdo me. Gotta respect the hustle".

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head at his antics. "Respect it all you want, Dean, but I'm the one getting beat up from the inside. This little ninja clearly takes after you".

"Don't blame me", Dean said, mock offense in his tone. He leaned in, resting his cheek against your belly as if to share a secret with the baby. "Hear that, kid? Your mom's already blaming me for everything. You’d better get used to it".

The baby kicked again, and Dean grinned like a kid on Christmas. "Whoa! Did you feel that? That was a good one. Solid technique. Maybe a linebacker in the making?".

"Or a kickboxer", you muttered, shifting again in an attempt to relieve the pressure. "Either way, I’m doomed".

Dean tilted his head back to look at you, his green eyes gleaming with amusement. "C’mon, admit it. You're impressed. Our kid's already a badass, and he´s not even born yet".

You huffed a laugh, brushing a hand through his messy hair. "I’ll be impressed when he let me sleep through the night".

Dean grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your belly before looking up at you. "You sure you wanna sleep? This is prime bonding time. Me, you, and Baby Winchester—three peas in a pod".

"Yeah, except one of those peas is currently trying to break out of the pod", you shot back, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Dean laughed, his hand still resting protectively over your bump. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll handle him when he´s out. For now, you just gotta hang in there". His tone softened slightly, his eyes meeting yours. "But seriously, you okay? Anything I can do?".

You shook your head, touched by the genuine concern behind the teasing. "Just keep being your annoying, sarcastic self. It helps. Somehow".

Dean smirked, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "That, I can do. Annoying and sarcastic is my specialty".

You shifted closer to Dean, your belly pressing against his side as you tried to find a position that didn’t make you want to scream. The baby kicked again, hard enough that Dean felt it against his ribs. He let out a low grunt, barely opening one eye as his hand lazily slid over to rest on your belly.

“Did that sucker just punch me?”, he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. His hand moved in slow, absentminded circles over your skin once more, his touch warm and soothing even as he groaned softly.

“Welcome to my life”, you muttered, your voice muffled against his chest as you tucked yourself closer to him. “That’s just one kick. Try feeling that all day long”.

Dean chuckled faintly, his head sinking deeper into the pillow as he tilted a lazy glance at your belly. “Man, Y/N”, he said, his voice thick and sluggish, “this thing’s huge. How are you even carrying it around? You’re like… fun-sized, and then there’s this giant basketball attached to you”.

You groaned, shoving at his chest lightly. “Dean”.

“What? I’m serious”, he muttered, his hand still rubbing your belly in a slow, unhurried rhythm. “It’s impressive, really. How do you not just… tip over?”.

“Dean”, you said again, more forcefully this time, though you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. “Do you have any idea how close you are to sleeping on the couch?”.

He gave a soft, lazy snort, clearly unbothered by your threat, his hand still resting heavily on your belly as his thumb lazily brushed over your skin. He tilted his head slightly, cracking one eye open just enough to look at you with that lopsided, cocky smirk you both loved and hated.

“When’s the last time I fucked you?”, he mumbled, his voice so low and gravelly it almost made you miss the words entirely. “You’ve had a bit of an attitude all day long. Starting to think you’re overdue, sweetheart”.

Your jaw dropped, and you swatted his chest hard, making him let out a quiet chuckle. “Dean Winchester!”, you hissed, though you couldn’t keep the heat from rushing to your cheeks—or the hint of a grin from pulling at your lips. “I’m eight months pregnant! You really think that’s what I need right now?”.

Dean shrugged lazily, still smirking as his fingers trailed slow, lazy circles over your bump. “I don’t know. Seems like you’re wound a little tight. Could be worth a shot”.

You let out a groan, equal parts annoyed and embarrassed, as you rolled your eyes at his audacity. “Dean, seriously? I’m huge, uncomfortable, and—”.

But before you could finish, his hand moved with practiced ease, slipping between your legs and under the waistband of your panties. His fingers found you wet, and though his eyes remained closed, his cocky smirk widened. “Mmhm”, he murmured, his voice a lazy drawl that sent a shiver through you. “What’s that, sweetheart? You were saying?”.

Your breath hitched, heat flooding your cheeks and pooling low in your stomach as his fingers brushed over you with maddening slowness. “Dean”, you hissed, swatting weakly at his arm, but there was no real force behind it. “I swear—”.

“You swear, what?”, he interrupted, finally cracking an eye open again to look at you with a sleepy but amused expression. His thumb moved in a slow, deliberate circle, and your protests dissolved into a sharp inhale. “Doesn’t seem like you’re in too much of a hurry to stop me”.

You glared at him, though the effect was ruined by the way your body betrayed you, arching just slightly into his touch. “You’re impossible”.

“And yet”, he drawled lazily, his fingers dipping just enough to tease, “you’re not telling me to stop”.

You wanted to argue, to shove his hand away and remind him that you were eight months pregnant and in no mood for his antics. But the way his fingers moved—the way he knew exactly where to touch—made it impossible to focus on anything other than the heat spreading through you.

Your silence was enough for him, your body arching slightly into his touch, the tension in your breath betraying any remaining protests you might have had. Dean didn’t need any more confirmation—he knew you, knew how to read you like the pages of a favorite book.

Without a word, he shifted, lazily kicking the blanket off his hips and down to his feet. The cool air of the room contrasted with the heat radiating between you, and he didn’t bother wasting any time, pushing his boxers down just enough to free himself. His free hand wrapped around his length, stroking slowly, deliberately, in time with the movements of his other hand still teasing you.

“Look at you”, he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep but laced with a cocky satisfaction. His half-lidded gaze flicked to your face, taking in your parted lips and the faint blush that crept across your cheeks. “All riled up, sweetheart. Guess I really do know what you need, huh?”.

Your only response was a breathy exhale as his fingers pressed just right, drawing a shuddering gasp from you. Dean smirked at your reaction, his movements lazy yet skilled, as if he had all the time in the world to unravel you.

“Eight months pregnant, uncomfortable as hell”, he drawled, his tone teasing but low, almost reverent, “and you still want me. Damn, sweetheart, you sure know how to stroke a guy’s ego”.

You couldn’t help the soft groan that escaped you, half-frustration, half-need, as your hips instinctively tilted toward his touch. “Dean”, you managed to say, your voice breathy and strained.

You let out a frustrated groan, your head tilting back as his fingers teased you with maddening precision. "You're such a dick", you breathed, your words laced with a mix of irritation and undeniable need.

Dean’s grin widened, his eyes still half-lidded and lazy, his expression one of pure, smug satisfaction. "Yeah", he murmured, his voice rough and low, "but I'm your dick. And you love it". Without missing a beat, he shifted beneath you, his movements slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

Before you could react, Dean sat up and slid an arm around your waist, pulling you onto his lap like you weighed nothing at all. It didn’t matter that you were eight months pregnant or how big you felt—Dean handled you as effortlessly as always, his strength a constant reminder of just how in control he was.

“Dean—”, you started, but your words cut off as he guided you, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties and pushing them aside. The rough pads of his fingers brushed against you again, making you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance.

“Shh”, he murmured, the sound barely audible as he shifted his hips beneath you, the heat of him pressing against your center. He guided you just right, teasing you with the barest hint of friction, his other hand steadying you as his thumb traced slow circles against your hip. "Relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you".

You let out a shaky breath, your body reacting to every deliberate movement as he lined himself up with agonizing slowness. He didn’t push forward, though—not yet. Instead, he rocked his hips just enough to tease you, brushing against you in a way that had you biting your lip to keep from crying out.

“You’re so impatient”, Dean teased, his smirk never faltering as he met your gaze, his green eyes dark with amusement and desire. "I barely even touched you, and you're already shaking".

"Dean", you said again, your voice a mix of a plea and a warning, but he didn’t seem to care. If anything, it spurred him on, his hands tightening on your hips as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Say it”, he murmured, his voice a rough whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Tell me how much you want it. Tell me how much you need me”.

“You’re—”, you started, but his hips shifted again, the teasing movement stealing the words from your lips. Instead, a breathy moan escaped you, and Dean’s grin deepened, his head tilting back slightly as he drank in the sound.

“That’s what I thought”, he said, his voice low and full of that infuriating confidence. “I’ve got all night, sweetheart. We’ll take our time".

And with that, he continued his slow, deliberate pace, keeping you on edge and making sure every movement left you aching for more.

But you were done with the teasing, your patience worn thinner than ever. You shifted your hips, trying to sink down onto him yourself, but Dean’s grip on your hips tightened, holding you just above him with an infuriating amount of control.

“Dean”, you growled, glaring down at him as your hands braced against his chest. You were dripping, the slickness making every shift of your body against him all the more agonizing. “Stop messing around”.

He let out a low, lazy chuckle, his head leaning back against the pillow as he looked up at you with that maddeningly smug grin. “What’s the rush, sweetheart?”, he drawled, his thumbs brushing slow circles into your hips. “You’ve got nowhere to be”.

Your frustration boiled over as Dean continued to hold you there, his hands firm on your hips, preventing you from getting what you desperately needed. Every tiny movement sent a jolt of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t enough—nowhere near enough—and the way he looked at you, all smug and unbothered, only made it worse.

“Dean”, you ground out through clenched teeth, trying to push against his grip again. “This isn’t funny”.

“It’s a little funny”, he countered, his voice a lazy drawl as his thumbs pressed lightly into your hips, keeping you hovering just above him. “I mean, look at you. You’re so worked up, sweetheart. Never seen you this impatient before”.

“Because you’re being a—”, you hissed, trying to force yourself down again, only for him to tighten his hold just enough to stop you. You groaned in frustration, glaring at him as heat flushed your cheeks. “Dean, please”.

His grin widened, his green eyes glinting with pure amusement as he watched you. “That desperate, huh?”, he teased, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re dripping all over me, sweetheart. You sure you don’t wanna keep begging? Kinda like the sound of it”.

You let out a frustrated noise, your hands digging into his chest as you gave up fighting his grip, your body trembling with need.

But before you could snap back at him, he finally loosened his hold, letting you drop just enough to take the tip of him inside. The stretch was immediate, sending a jolt of pleasure and relief through you that had you biting back a moan. But just as quickly as he let you sink, he held you there, keeping you still with an almost infuriating amount of control.

“Easy, sweetheart”, he said, his voice low and soothing, though the teasing lilt was still there. “Don’t wanna rush it, do you? Gotta savor the moment”.

You glared down at him, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you tried to steady yourself. “Dean, if you don’t let me—”.

“Alright, alright”, he said, laughing softly as he finally let his grip relax, his hands guiding you down onto him. The sensation was overwhelming, the way he filled you so completely making your frustration melt into a wave of relief. You couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped you as you sank down fully, your hands gripping his chest for balance.

“There it is”, Dean said, his voice low and full of satisfaction as he looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust. “Knew you’d feel amazing, sweetheart. Damn it”.

Dean’s hands slid lazily from your thighs back to your hips, his rough palms warm against your skin as he brushed over the curve of your ass, ready to take control again. But you’d had enough. Without hesitation, you slapped his hands away, glaring down at him with a mixture of irritation and determination.

“Hands off”, you snapped, your voice firm despite the breathlessness in it. “I’m done letting you mess with me”.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, his lips curling into that smug grin you knew all too well. “Oh, is that right?”, he drawled, his hands falling back to rest on the mattress as he gave you an exaggerated look of mock surrender. “Alright, sweetheart. You wanna take the lead? Be my guest”.

You didn’t hesitate, planting your hands on his chest for leverage as you started rolling your hips. It was slower than usual, deliberate, partly because of the weight of your belly and partly because you wanted to prove your point. But the deliberate pace didn’t diminish the sensation; every movement sent a wave of pleasure coursing through you, making your breath hitch and your body shiver.

Dean groaned low in his throat, his hands twitching like he was itching to grab you again but holding himself back.

Dean’s groan turned into a soft chuckle, his hands gripping the sheets as his head tipped back slightly, though his teasing smirk was still firmly in place. He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, that cocky glint in his green eyes making your irritation flare again.

“Now, you’re really taking your time there, sweetheart”, he drawled, his voice low and lazy, the gravelly edge making you shiver despite your annoyance. “Not that I’m complainin’, but I thought you were in a hurry”.

You narrowed your eyes at him, rolling your hips deliberately, just a little harder this time, earning another groan from him. “Shut up, Dean”, you muttered, heat rushing to your face as you tried to focus on the pleasure coursing through you instead of his relentless teasing.

But Dean, being Dean, wasn’t about to let it go. “No, seriously”, he said, his grin widening. “You usually go a little faster than this. What’s the matter, sweetheart? Baby Winchester slowing you down?”.

Your jaw clenched, and you gave his chest a sharp push with one hand as you ground down on him again, drawing a deep, shaky breath from him. “Maybe I’m just enjoying myself”, you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Ever think of that?”.

“Oh, sure”, Dean said, his voice thick with amusement as his hands finally moved to rest on your thighs, his thumbs brushing lightly over your skin. “You’re enjoying yourself, huh? Looks more like you’re trying to figure out how to make it work with all that extra baggage”.

You groaned, half in frustration and half in exasperated laughter, shaking your head as you fought the urge to smack him again.

Dean’s grin only widened as his hands shifted from your thighs to your back. After pulling off your shirt, his fingers made quick work of the clasp of your bra, the straps sliding down your arms as he pulled it away with maddening ease. His eyes didn’t leave yours, the cocky, teasing smirk firmly in place as he tossed it to the side.

“Thought you said hands off”, he murmured, his tone dripping with amusement, his hands returning to the sheets instead of you. “But, you know, figured you might want a little freedom. You’re welcome”.

You rolled your eyes, your breath hitching despite yourself as you felt the cool air brush against your bare skin. “Dean…”.

“What?”, he asked innocently, leaning back against the pillow, the grin tugging at his lips betraying him. “I didn’t touch you. I’m just—”. His gaze flicked down to your chest, lingering for a moment before he met your eyes again, that lazy drawl making you squirm. “Enjoying the view”.

You wanted to stay annoyed, wanted to tell him off, but the way his eyes darkened, his expression shifting just slightly from playful to utterly captivated, sent a wave of heat through you. He wasn’t even touching you, but somehow that look alone had you feeling like you were unraveling under his gaze.

Still, you weren’t going to let him win. “Keep staring”, you muttered, trying to focus on rolling your hips again, though the heat of his attention made it harder to concentrate. “That’s all you’re getting”.

Dean chuckled low in his throat, his voice rough and teasing as he leaned in just slightly, his breath brushing over your skin without making contact. “Sure, sweetheart. I’ll just sit back and watch you”. His grin widened again, and he tilted his head, his eyes dropping back to your chest.

You kept moving, determined to prove a point, but no matter how much you tried, frustration gnawed at you. Every roll of your hips sent sparks of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t enough—not deep enough, not hard enough. And the weight of your belly, the slight ache in your lower back, and your waning stamina weren’t doing you any favors.

Dean, of course, noticed. His smirk only grew as your movements slowed, your breaths coming out in shallow pants. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”, he teased, his voice dripping with faux concern. “Getting a little tired?”.

You shot him a glare, your hands tightening against his chest as you tried to keep going. “I’m fine”, you snapped, though the shakiness in your voice betrayed you. “Just… shut up”.

Dean’s smirk shifted slightly, the amusement in his eyes hardening into something more intent, more commanding. Without saying a word, he grabbed your hips firmly, stilling your movements entirely. You shot him a confused glare, but before you could open your mouth to complain, he moved.

Effortlessly, Dean shifted his weight, gripping you and turning your body with practiced ease. You found yourself on all fours, your belly cushioned by the mattress, and before you could process what was happening, his hands were back on your hips, pulling you back toward him with enough force to leave you breathless.

“Dean—”, you started, but the words dissolved into a loud, broken cry as he thrust into you in one smooth, deep motion. The angle was perfect, hitting spots he hadn’t been able to reach before, and the overwhelming sensation made your arms give out, your face pressing into the pillow as you tried to steady yourself.

“Enough of the attitude”, Dean growled lowly, his voice rough, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulled you back against him again

Dean’s pace was relentless, his grip firm on your hips as he pulled you back against him again and again. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through you that made it impossible to form coherent thoughts, let alone words. But Dean? Dean wasn’t about to let you stay quiet.

“You’ve been real sassy lately, sweetheart”, he growled, his voice low and rough as he leaned over you, his chest brushing against your back. “Snapping at me every chance you get, always in a mood”.

You let out a muffled moan, your hands clutching at the sheets as his words pierced through the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. “Dean, I—”.

He cut you off with a sharp thrust, his grip tightening on your hips as he groaned. “Nope. Not done yet”, he said, his tone a mix of frustration and amusement. “You wanna tell me how everything I do pisses you off lately? You’re too hot. I’m too loud. I’m breathing wrong”.

“Dean!”, you protested, though your voice was breathy and strained, completely undermining your attempt at indignation.

He chuckled, the sound low and rough as his fingers dug into your skin. “See? There it is”, he said, his hips snapping forward again, drawing a broken cry from your lips. “You’ve been like this for weeks. Always snapping at me, throwing those little fits”.

“I’m pregnant!”, you managed to gasp, your face pressing further into the pillow as the overwhelming pleasure made your whole body tremble. “You try carrying a baby and see how you feel!”.

Dean let out a low, rough chuckle, his hips snapping forward again as he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Yeah, I know you’re pregnant”, he murmured, his voice a gravelly mix of teasing and frustration. “That’s the only reason I haven’t flipped you over and spanked that attitude right out of you by now”.

Dean’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to make you shiver. His voice stayed low and rough, brushing against your ear as he continued. “You think I haven’t thought about it, sweetheart? The way you’ve been testing me lately, running that mouth of yours every chance you get”.

He thrust forward again, sharp and deep, pulling a choked cry from your lips that made his smirk widen. “But no”, he drawled, his tone laced with mock patience, “I’ve been nice. Real nice. Letting you get away with it because you’ve got our kid in there. But don’t push me too far”.

Your breath hitched, your body trembling beneath him as you tried to muster some kind of retort, but his words kept coming, each one dripping with that infuriating mix of dominance and amusement.

“You wanna know what’s funny?”, he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke. “Half the time, I think you’re trying to piss me off on purpose. Like you want me to snap. Is that it, sweetheart? You trying to see how far you can push me?”.

You managed a shaky breath, your voice muffled by the pillow as you tried to reply. “Dean, I—”.

“Don’t even try it”, he cut you off, his voice dipping lower, more commanding. “I know you. You love to push buttons, get a rise out of me. But you forget, sweetheart—I’m the one who knows exactly how to handle you”.

His hands slid up from your hips, one wrapping around your waist to pull you tighter against him as he thrust again, the force making you cry out. “See?”, he continued, his voice rough and smug. “All it takes is one touch, and you’re not so mouthy anymore, are you?”.

“Dean”, you gasped, your hands clutching at the sheets as his words and movements overwhelmed you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

“What’s that, sweetheart?”, he teased, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your neck. “Got something to say now?”.

Your silence only seemed to fuel him, his grin audible in his next words. “That’s what I thought”, he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he kept his pace steady and deep. “You can sass me all you want, sweetheart, but at the end of the day, I’ll always put you right back where you belong. Every time”.

Dean’s grip on you was unrelenting, his hands guiding your hips back against his as his deep, commanding voice filled the room. He wasn’t just touching you—he was claiming you, reminding you exactly who was in control. And you loved it.

You always loved it when Dean was bossy, and he knew it. But ever since you got pregnant, he’d held back—taking care of you, being gentler, more cautious, treating you like you might break. No rough edges, no dirty talk, no manhandling. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate his care, but fuck, you missed the way he used to take you. You missed the fire, the way he pushed you to your limits, the way he made you lose yourself completely.

And that frustration, paired with the wild rollercoaster of your hormones, had turned you into a snappy, moody mess. You’d been pushing him for weeks, testing him, snapping at every little thing. You wanted him to break, to stop holding back and give you what you craved. What you needed.

And now, finally, he had.

Dean’s hips snapped forward again, deep and hard, his grip on your waist pulling you flush against him as he buried himself inside you. “Such a little sassy bitch”, he groaned, his voice low and rough, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. The words sent a shockwave through you, your whole body trembling as you gasped for air.

It was enough to tip you over the edge, his deep voice paired with the perfect, relentless rhythm of his thrusts sending you spiraling into bliss. Your body clenched tight around him as you cried out, your fingers clutching at the sheets as the pleasure crashed over you in a powerful wave.

“That’s it”, Dean murmured, his voice thick and dark, his hands tightening on your hips as he kept moving, drawing every ounce of pleasure from you. “That’s what you needed, huh? Just had to push me until I gave it to you”.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but gasp and moan as your body trembled beneath him, your mind fogged with the overwhelming release. Dean groaned low in his throat, his own pleasure building as he watched you fall apart under his touch.

Dean’s movements grew more erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chased his own release. Each thrust was deep, deliberate, and powerful, dragging out every last tremor of your climax as his low groans filled the room.

“Damn it”, he growled, his voice strained, roughened by the building tension. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you back against him one last time, sinking so deep inside you that you felt completely and utterly claimed.

The sound that escaped him then was raw and guttural, his head falling forward as his release hit. You felt the warmth of him spill inside you, hot and sticky, his body shuddering against yours as he came undone. Dean stayed buried deep, holding you close, his breath ragged and heavy in your ear.

“Shit, sweetheart”, he murmured after a moment, his voice low and gravelly as his forehead pressed against the back of your neck. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all. “Takes two, Winchester”, you managed to reply, your voice weak but laced with affection.

Dean lingered for a moment, his body still pressed tightly against yours as his breathing began to steady. You felt the gentle press of his lips against your shoulder, the kiss soft and lingering, a stark contrast to the intensity he’d just unleashed. “Yeah, yeah”, he mumbled, his voice a mix of teasing and tenderness. “You can’t keep pushin’ me like that, sweetheart. Not unless you wanna end up in this position every time”.

You smirked into the pillow, still catching your breath, and turned your head slightly to glance back at him. “Is that supposed to be a threat or a promise?”.

Dean let out a low chuckle, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as he shook his head. “Smartass”, he muttered, though the grin on his face was unmistakable. He pulled back slightly, his hands shifting to slide up your sides, careful and gentle now as he helped ease you into a more comfortable position.

As he settled down beside you, his arm looped around your waist, pulling you close. His other hand brushed over your belly, resting protectively against the curve as if grounding himself there. “You okay?”, he asked, his voice quieter now, more serious as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“Yeah”, you murmured, your body melting into his as the aftershocks of pleasure faded into a warm, satisfied haze. “More than okay”.

Dean let out a soft hum of approval, his hand still resting against your belly as his thumb began tracing small, lazy circles over your skin.

But then, without warning, a sharp kick hit his hand where it rested against your stomach. His eyes snapped open, and he pulled his hand back slightly, blinking down at your belly like it had personally insulted him.

“Seriously?”, he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion. “I just wore your mom out, and now you’re gonna take a shot at me?”.

You laughed softly, resting your hand over his as it returned to your stomach, his thumb resuming its slow movements. “Guess they didn’t like the way you were talking to me earlier”, you teased, still catching your breath.

Dean huffed, his head sinking back against the pillow as his other arm tightened around your waist. “Great. Already takin’ your side”, he grumbled, his voice muffled as he buried his face in your hair. “Kid’s not even born yet, and I’m outnumbered”.

Dean sighed dramatically, lifting his head slightly to glare at your belly like he was about to give it a piece of his mind. His hand settled back where the baby had kicked, his thumb pausing in its lazy circles as he rubbed gently over the spot.

“Alright, buddy”, he said, his voice low and teasing. “What’s the deal? You mad at me already? Because I gotta tell you, kid, I’ve barely even started embarrassing you”.

You chuckled softly, snuggling closer to him as his tone grew more playful.

Dean leaned in closer to your belly, tilting his head as if the baby could hear him better that way. “I get it, you’re protective of your mom—good. That’s your job. But come on, you don’t gotta start throwin’ punches before you even get out here. Give me a break”.

Another soft kick pushed against his hand, and Dean groaned dramatically, looking up at you with mock exasperation. “See? This kid’s already got your sass. I’m screwed”.

Dean felt the next kick and stilled when you winced slightly, concern flashing across his face. "Alright, listen up, champ”, he said, leaning in again with that cocky, amused tone you knew so well. “You’ve got a lot of time to work on that roundhouse kick. But right now, your mom needs a break. So how about we call it a draw tonight, huh?”.

Another kick followed, not quite as sharp this time but enough to make Dean shake his head, his grin widening. “Oh, yeah, I can already tell”, he muttered, glancing up at you. “This kid’s gonna be trouble. Just like you”.

You smirked, though the soft circles of his thumb against your belly eased the discomfort. “Trouble? He’s gonna be your clone. Loud, bossy, impossible to deal with…”.

Dean raised an eyebrow, a mock-offended expression crossing his face. “Loud? Bossy? Sweetheart, I’m a delight”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, running your fingers lightly through his hair as he leaned down to press another kiss to your belly. “Sure you are”, you teased, shaking your head. “Just wait. He’ll be following you around everywhere, and you’ll be the one teaching him how to be a pain”.

Dean rolled his eyes dramatically, though his smirk didn’t waver as he leaned up from your belly, his green eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and exhaustion. “You’re real funny, you know that?”, he muttered, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face.

Before you could come up with another quip, he pressed a firm kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Alright, enough out of you for one night”, he said, his voice low and teasing, though the warmth in it made your chest tighten. “Catch some sleep, sweetheart. Or so help me, I’ll knock your sassy ass out myself”.

You laughed softly, leaning into his touch as his arm wrapped around your waist again, pulling you close. “Oh, really?”, you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “You’re gonna knock me out? That’s the best you’ve got?”.

Dean let out a low chuckle, his thumb resuming its slow circles on your belly as he tucked you against his chest. “You wanna keep testing me, Y/N?”, he asked, his tone playful but edged with mock warning. “Because I’ve still got plenty of energy to make sure you can’t walk tomorrow”.

Your cheeks flushed, and you swatted his chest lightly, your laugh turning breathless. “Dean!”.

“Uh-huh", he muttered, smirking down at you as he settled back into the pillows, his grip on you tightening protectively. “That’s what I thought. Now, go to sleep before this little guy starts throwing another round of punches”.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth of his arm around you and the steady, soothing circles of his hand on your belly made it impossible to stay annoyed. “Fine”, you said softly, letting yourself relax against him. “But only because I’m tired—not because you told me to”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart”, Dean murmured, his voice low and lazy as his eyes began to close, his body relaxing beside yours. “But you’d better get used to listening to me. Gonna need all the rest you can get—this kid’s gonna keep us on our toes”.

You smiled, closing your eyes as you felt his steady breaths against your skin, his hand never leaving your belly. In that moment, surrounded by Dean’s warmth and love, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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#to my Twitter mutuals I have no shame idgaf #you knew what I was when you followed me

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