#d.w

[lenoue]

“he wants to know now that he is the patriarch of their family, Sam will submit to him. he doesn't want that submission to be shared with John.”

yes! and there’s actually such interesting subtext to it. i’ve been thinking about that one scene from playthings where sam says “he (john) was right to say it” and dean angrily reacts “yeah, well, dad’s an ass”. it’s giving “dad isn’t here anymore. but i am. i am the one you should listen/submit to. because i know what’s best for you. i am the one in control of you now”. definitely reminds me of their interaction in 5.16, sam’s “i finally got away from dad” and dean’s “he wasn’t the only one you got away from”. the way he immediately makes it about himself. yeah it’s definitely about competition with john

also another interesting example is from 4.13:

dean: i’m gonna rip his lungs out!

sam: it’s not a big deal

dean: not a big deal? sammy, look at yourself. if dad was here —

sam: he’s not

dean: well, i am!

he wants to replace john in sam’s eyes so bad it’s not even subtext it’s blatant text. which makes the wincest dynamic so much more twisted & delicious ♡

the 04.13 exchange is making me unwell bcs this! this is it! he make the decisions when dad's not around. he decides the next course of action. it was set up so early on, so glad you brought it up

yeah it's blatant text, that's what gets me riled up when people say dean doesn't become a john variant later on. it's essential to his development that he shares traits with his dad. there are 2 mechanisms that the narrative utilizes to bind sam at dean's side. one is dean's excessive need for authoritative control over the lives of everyone he is close to (sam, bobby, lisa, cas) and sam's own guilt by hurting his closed ones by actions he did that (coincidentally) questioned their authority.

and I dont want to make it sound like sam doesnt doesn't love dean, he absolutely does. but its established that sam has the capacity to exist separately despite so. in fact, he wants to. but he doesn't leave. sometimes its covert, most times its overt that dean needs to "watch over sam" (like after seeing the endverse)

and playthings ofc is a gift that keeps giving. how quickly dean jumps to speak against john is fascinating. this is a man, who would ignore, refute or deny any claims from sam that painted john in negative lights, is now stewing in mourning and resentment. (yes, I do believe he was resentful. john left their family and dean, who views leaving your family as the crime of crimes, could not accept this.) to negate the absolute hurricane of emotions in his life, he puts focus on taking control of the thing closest to him, his sammy. (god i could talk forever about how he clutches to this control for stability throughout the show)

he has already set the reality that he will save sam. it is highly inconvenient to him that sam, now of all times, is putting 2 cents to john's words when dean is right there. keep your eyes here sam, trust me, put your faith in me. I am saying I will save you, that is the only reality you need to trust now.

the vibe of "i am the bedrock of your reality" reminds you of something else?

i also mentioned in another post that dean is insecure about his position in sam's life. he doesn't like losing sammy to even his father. in dean's perspective of their childhood in flashbacks, we only see what dean does for sam. these are at the forefront of his mind. these are his validity documents for his claim on sammy. how no one can know him better. not john, not ruby, not amelia. none of them know what's good for sammy, especially not sam.

(if I had more time I'd go back to "houses of the holy" and examine why dean didn't take well to sam's faith in the divine from a wincest lens)

[cowboylikeekatie]

maybe in another life im not the little sister constantly serving cunt

[mommy-mortis]

[suffernotindoubt]

Vanity... ughh

Artists, keep control

control yourself

when the police come

tear it down gay the cow

that is so offensive, we have

to call it Dali, poseur du jour

not fag as in I suck cock but

queer as in fuck off

If you do not Idle with people, look like 

phantoms bring busloads

Piss your tits

Deathly romantic scenario schemata

So we got a bunch of bones

no one was recoiling at the nose

So much art to hate

so any artists to love

Support their abandon

[dollyfetti]

“excuse me, miss?”

you turn around, startled by the gravelly, yet soft voice behind you. standing there is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, even under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital.

“yes?” you hum, blinking gently with a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

he inhales, eyes uncertain like a deer caught in headlights. “do you.. know where the bathroom is?”

you pause, your gaze drifting toward the hallway as you think for a moment. “i think it’s down that hall? i’m pretty sure, yeah..!” you gesture with a point of your finger.

he nods, but his gaze doesn’t follow your point. he’s still looking at you. intense, like you’re the center of his world.

“thank you,” he murmurs.

you smile again with a reassuring nod, your expression warmer than intended.

“hey, um—” his voice falters as he takes a step closer, his presence suddenly feeling all too real. “do you know a.. dean winchester by any chance?”

you ponder for all of two seconds before apologetically shaking your head. “i don’t, i’m sorry.”

his face falls. like a piece of him is slipping away.

he starts to panic, even though he knew this was destined to come. castiel told him, sam told him, bobby told him.

“really?” his voice suddenly cracks, catching you off guard. "he’s— he’s… the love of—" he cuts himself off with a frustrated huff, looking down at the floor. it’s not worth telling you. your memory is gone. destroyed.

you hear the rawness in his voice, the desperation he’s fighting to keep tucked away. your breath catches as you watch him, his eyes glistening with unshed tears now.

“the love of your life?” you murmur gently— god, always so gentle.

he lets out a small bitter laugh, but it’s barely there. he swallows, the sound thick in his throat.

“yeah.” he says, voice shaky but determined to play along. “sure, yeah.”

a wave of sympathy rises within you, one you’ve always given to those who seem like they need it the most. and there it is, that stupid face filled with sorrow you gave to people no matter their problem, big or small.

“where is he?”

dean stares hard, his gaze unwavering, as though your eyes might hold him together for all of eternity.

"he’s lost.”

[lovertm]

character keychains, part 3 by winterrkatt

[alicianicoly]

YAMERS @a-v-j

LETS DOGPILE ANTI EVERYBODY

"aww, jeez..."

I made it as transparent png so everyone feel free to add yerselfs or ocs lmao

[browneyebby]

i think what makes dallas winston so attractive is his lack of personal space, especially around the girl he likes. . .

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 🪽 ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

you were sort of flattered, honestly. you knew you shouldn’t be. dallas winston was a bad person. he carried a heater around, he jumped young boys and senior citizens, he stole, fought, cussed — he was everything you weren’t. and, to make matters worse, he was a greaser. but god, the amount of attention he gave you… it was almost dizzying. if you were a cat, you would be on your back all flirty, begging for him to scratch you more.

you acted as if it didn’t matter to you, ‘it’ being the attention and dallas himself. whenever you were alone and he’d talk to you, you’d be nice enough. you’d talk to him, making casual conversation about the weather or plans later. all he could ever notice was the way your lashes batted up at him, or how you’d stutter a bit whenever he would interrupt you. you were cute. which is why, whenever he saw you, his big hands were all over you. they’d caress your waist, massage your shoulders, fiddle with your hair or a new necklace he’d notice on you. he’d hold your belt loops, your hand. everywhere you could think of. you’d never stop him when you’re alone.

when you’re with friends, on the other hand, you’re a bitch (at least that’s what dally says). you adorably paw him off of you, calling him a slimy greaser, or a pervert. of course, just like you, he preens when he gets attention. but unlike you, it doesn’t matter if the attention is good or bad. you could cut off his dick and he’d still smirk at you in wonder, and not take a hint. it doesn’t matter if you push his hard chest, or stomp on his shoe, or call him names. he loves it. even though it’s just a show in front of your friends, he wouldn’t even care if it was for real. if you actually hated him this much. you were adorable to him.

“dallas winston, leave me alone!” you whine to him one day while you’re shopping on the main strip of town with your spoiled friends. “such an asshole, take a hint,”

he had come up to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “you look pretty today, don’t ya baby?” he ignores your words, fiddling with the strap of your dress. “new dress? suits you,”

“thank you,” you murmur. “now let me go, please.”

“why?” he asks, pulling you closer.

“‘cause this is harrassment.” is your answer. “wanna get thrown in jail again? huh?”

“push me away then, you’re a strong girl,” he taunts.

you don’t hesitate elbowing him away, and he stumbles back, smiling. god, he adores you. that brief amount of willing contact on your end was enough to make his brain go fuzzy. “now go away, winston, m’busy,” you repeat again. the sound of your angry stomps is like music to his ears. the click-clack of your kitten heels feels like a hypnosis.

“miss ya already!” he calls out as you glance back at him. you bite the inside of your cheek and looks away again.

your interactions with him tend to stick with you for the entire day. you like his attention, as previously mentioned, and you miss when he’s not bothering you. you like the surge of annoyance you get when he embarasses you in front of your friends. this conversation with him is especially memorable, and for one apparent reason — you feel guilty for pushing him anyway. you wish you could’ve cuddled into his side, walked with him while he talked to you and teased you.

you hate the way you miss his attention, but you can’t help it. because when dallas winston gets within three inches of you, the high you get is worse than any other drug. you get addicted. and unfortunately, him and his two hands have hooked you. it’s just what he wants.

. ۫ ꣑ৎ taglist : @avroravia @r0seb100d @fawning4leif @dinerlana @diorgirl444

[90900]

and it for @hellspawnmotel sense she has awesome analysis and read Pluto manga it awesome

Finally thank to my twisted and fucked up love I Finally made dark and mature version of my favourite childhood series that isn't full of weak doomer shit like mischaracter everyone to make them shity mocking parody of themselves snorted suitcase of gazillions alcohol and mythology childhood and make adulthood look like miserable fucks and say thing like adulthood never get better it always get worse worse and worse and make youngest sibling evil rich psychopath ( in ableist way) woman who mock main character (who is Millennial) for being poor and being stupid unnecessary needless edgy and overalls honestly disrespectful to the source media that is parodying and instead we got toxic yuri ( that respectful to the source media) that is so toxic make you ask yourself wow that is so fucking toxic how even got this bad/toxic what wrong with them and my answer? You don't get a answer

And also t r a n g e n d e r protag (she also in toxic yuri)

[lenoue]

there's always this subtle smell of envy i find coming off of dean whenever any discussion of stanford (or flagstaff) takes place. like he's in disbelief that sam hated their dad and their life enough to leave but didn't love him enough to stay. can't even comprehend it.

he's in an imaginary competition with their dead dad

[iminaworldofpureimagination]

[citizenscreen]

#OnThisDay in 1919, Hollywood heavyweights Charlie Chaplin, Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, and D.W. Griffith joined forces to create United Artists to have more control over their artistic and financial interests.

[hypersonicjd]

This is so cute! I love them so much :)

Happy Holidays yall! I wasn't planning on drawing Christmas art with these two, but I drew a sketch and it looked so cute, I just had to stay up until 3 am to finish it!

[quasiimodo]

ARTHUR (1996-2022)

7x06 “Pick a Car, Any Car/Jenna's Bedtime Blues”

[pownicmania5000]

So I've been rewatching quite a bit of Arthur lately and goddamn it's so good, even more than I remembered it being

[dollyfetti]

𐔌　𝓒ON𝓢UME 𝓜E ₊˚ ♡

○˚𑄽𑄺˖° SUMMARY: dean wants to be your everything, no matter the cost.

⋆˚✿˖° NOTES: loser!sub!dean x vampire!reader smut blood consumption finger sucking pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, sweet girl, gorgeous) hair pulling begging dry humping unprotected sex overstimulation they r obsessed with each other!! dean's a little ooc ig meow! it's like semi edited wahh

○˚♡˖° WORD COUNT: 4.4k woah!

˚○ ୨୧ main masterlist taglist navi

dean being with you, a literal vampire, didn’t feel like damnation. it felt like heaven. for all your many centuries of existence and the blood that kept you breathing, you were delicately affectionate from the moment you’d met him. it’s actually what kept him from ganking you during the first few weeks you decided to stick around.

and thank goodness he didn’t.

you practically pacified the sweet boy in just a few months, often resulting in him curled up in your arms like a half tamed puppy after a long day, all of his previous bark and bite from earlier faded to quiet whines and slow blinks as your fingers threaded through his hair.

it’s disgusting the way dean constantly finds himself submitting to you. he’d rip his heart out with his bare, calloused hands and gladly give it to you the second you asked.

he’s screwed.

his love was all consuming, constantly having a dizzying headache of wanting you so bad it scraped his ribs raw. and he figured maybe you had spelled him somehow, to make him want to give up his one and only soul for you, a monster.

because dean didn’t love, not really. he never yearned for someone the way a man in love should. not until you.

he lived for these moments with you, where the shit world he fights against every day is still and kind for once. where he’s shirtless in bed, holding you like he’d fall through the mattress if he didn’t anchor himself to you.

your low cut tank top gave dean a wide view of one of his very few sanctuaries... your tits.

he leans forward to place a small kiss on your chest before tilting his head back to look at you with those hypnotizing green eyes, his hands rubbing your sides to eventually stop at your hips and giving them a light squeeze.

you exhale, lightly rubbing his biceps as you lean back against the headboard. “baby, i haveta.. eat.. soon.” you murmur, gently reminding him of your nature. you’ve always hated bringing it up, having to admit the hunger that stirred beneath your flesh.

he frowns with a sigh, placing another kiss on your chest and nuzzling his head between your breasts like a petulant child, rubbing his nose against the soft skin before looking up at you again with an alluring glance that made your unbeating heart tug.

“jus stay for a few more minutes.” dean grumbles, letting his lower lip fall in a tiny pout as he blinks up at you, his chin still squished between your boobs.

you giggle, petting his hair and bringing up a finger to trace over his pouting lips. “i didn’t say right this second. just soon, kay?”

a soft whine escapes him as the pad of your finger lightly brushes against his lips, like just the small touch from you had blessed him. the large hands resting on your hips slide down underneath your loose shirt, now roaming over your bare skin.

he shamelessly takes your finger between his plump pink lips as you eye him with a soft smile, a little noise of content falling out of you. he sucks and gently nips on it, his eyes never pulling away from yours. you know, like a whore.

you adore when he's like this, all soft and subby. you coo, your free hand still playing with his hair as he swirls his pink tongue around your digit.

he softly whimpers as he reluctantly slips your finger out of his mouth before smooching a gentle kiss on the pad of it. his hands are now soothingly rubbing your back underneath your shirt, his lips trailing down to scatter soft, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

one of his legs suddenly slip between yours, knee brushing against your core before cooing at your surprised squeak at the contact, your hips automatically jerking at the friction.

“okay,” you rasp, nodding your head in attempt to recollect yourself with a hard swallow. “i said soon as in.. only a few minutes, baby.”

he simply hums before leaning forward and stupidly taking the skin on your jaw between his teeth.

hunger crawls up your throat without warning, blooming hot and desperate. you can smell him more now from this angle— sweat and blood, and god, his awaiting throat is right there.

and he just purrs like he knows how it’s affecting you, the noise vibrating against your skin.

“dean.” you warn sharply, fighting the necessity to indulge in your needs. you resist the urge to sink your fangs into him 24/7, and it's even worse at times like these when he’s all over you.

“i'm hungry, be careful.”

he simply hums again as he places a kiss on your jaw before moving down until his lips press gently against your pulse point, his teeth nipping on the sensitive skin of your throat, almost as if to tease you.

“you’ve already taken my blood before.” he points out with a small grunt, burying his nose into your neck.

you wince at the memory. it was in an empty ghost town where your stash had been destroyed, and you thought your life was over. you’d resisted for hours until you just couldn’t anymore. then dean had offered his wrist with a smile and a “c’mon, sweetheart, you need to. please.”

you didn’t want to, but what other choice did you have? you’d been careful. gentle. he even said it didn’t hurt.

you whine, pulling him closer despite the logical part of your brain telling you otherwise. “that can never happen again, deany.” you murmur, lashes fluttering at his wet nips and pecks.

he huffs against your skin. “why the hell not? nothing happened, right?” he says matter of factly, his tone still soft as his fingers trace patterns over your back. he wants to be what you crave and he wants to be the one to give it to you. he needs to be needed.

“yeah, but,” you start with a pout. “i don’t ever wanna hurt you, honey.” you mumble, eyes following his mouth as he kisses and presses himself all over you like a needy little puppy.

eventually, he lifts his head to look at you again, a small pout of his own on his lips as he stares at you with a pleading expression. “what, you think m scared of you? you’re not gonna hurt me, sweet girl.” he notes with a shift, leaning up to press a soft kiss on your chin, and then your nose.

his knee was still pressed against your center, and he couldn’t help but tauntingly move it, just slightly, enjoying how much it seemed to rile you up.

“i can’t, baby, i can’t..!” you whine, eyes rolling back momentarily. you let out a breathy sigh, a lovesick smile sneaking out as he begins to pepper your face in kisses.

he chuckles, finding your whines and whimpers absolutely adorable. “why not?” he asks with a small coo, his hand petting over your puffed out cheek.

his other hand presses flat against your back, thumb rubbing circles over it as his nose gently rubs against yours. he knew that he was slowly but surely pushing you to give in, and he always plans on getting what he wants.

“because! if i start, i won’t stop— i can’t control it!” you’re quivering now, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded as he rocks his knee against you.

“sweetheart. please?” dean softly hums, his green eyes looking up at you with need. “just a little bite.. that's it.” he murmurs. there’s no hesitation in him. no fear. just a desperate, boyish need to be yours in every possible way.

he further presses his knee against your fabric covered cunt, urging you to grind against him. “fuck, c’mon. let me take care of you.” he exhales.

you let out a heavy breath, hips jerking with a small whimper until you shakily nod. “okay.. your wrist. n-not your neck..” you mumble, listening intently to the sound of his heartbeat.

he can’t hold back from letting out a deep, guttural groan at your confirmation. he brings his wrist up to your mouth, offering it like a gift with pride. “drink, baby...” he whispers huskily, his hand going to your hip to help you rock on him.

you breathily hiss at both the sensation and dean's eagerness to feed his girl, bringing a shiver to your spine. you snatch his wrist into your cold grip before pausing to listen to the flow of his blood, his eyes slightly widening.

“are you sure?” you whisper with closed eyes, hunger twisting low and sharp in your belly.

“yeah, positive.” he breathes, nodding rapidly as he stares at you with pure adoration.

with a flash of movement, you drag his wrist to your mouth, and your fangs sink in.

your nails dig into his forearm as the blood hits your tongue, rich and wild and oh so human. your head spins with the taste of him— it’s overwhelming, addicting, too much, but you drink like you're starved, a low involuntary growl rumbling out of your throat.

dean lets out a soft cry, his entire body pressing up against you. he can feel your nipples poking through your shirt, his forehead dropping to yours as he cradles the back of your head with his free hand.

“jesus christ,” he whispers, lips brushing your temple as his eyes squeeze shut with a grunt.

he bites down on his bottom lip, letting out an involuntary moan. he's never felt something so intense before, the feeling of your fangs inside his flesh, the feeling of you sucking on his skin, and all the little sounds you’re making. he groans as your body arches into him, his jeans somehow getting even tighter.

his body goes on autopilot, hips bucking against yours, desperately in search of more friction. his free hand pulls your shirt up enough for your boobs to bounce out, his tongue swiping over his lips as he stares down at them before glancing up at you again.

“you’re so hungry, aren't you..?” he murmurs, hand moving under the shirt to squeeze a handful of your tit as he plants kisses along your neck.

god, his blood is everything. thick and warm and utterly his, laced with all the things you crave most. his loyalty, his love, the deep desiring thrum of a man who would burn himself down if it meant keeping you full.

your supernaturally tight hold manages to grip harder around his wrist for another greedy mouthful, and you feel him sag into you, breath catching on a ragged sigh. but even still, there's no fear, no hesitation. just dean, wide eyed and adoring, like he’s grateful to be devoured.

and that’s what jolts you back.

you yank yourself away from his arm with a choked gasp, blood still wet on your lips, your heart pounding like it’s about to explode. your fingers loosen their death grip on his wrist as you try to catch your breath.

his hand moves from your breast to caress your cheek, whispering sweet words, only to be interrupted by your snarl. “clean it up before i suck you fucking dry.” you whimper, voice barely holding together.

the sight of dean's blood smeared on your lips and your darkened eyes causes him to let out another low moan. he blinks, drunk on the intimacy still coiling between you.

“fuck...” he whines quietly, his hand on your head still playing with your hair mindlessly. he can't help himself, you just look so cute and kissable in this moment. he leans in closer, fingers going under your chin to lift you up a little, wanting a taste of your bloody lips.

you exhale, eyes shutting as you shake your head and press a hand against his chest to stop him.

his gaze flicks down to his bloody wrist. he lifts it up to his mouth and begins to leisurely lick the blood away, his tongue leaving soft, slow drags on it.

you groan at the sloshy sound, eyes tightening further as you put your hand over your nose, the smell getting to you.

a slight smirk forms on his lips like he knew him swiping up his blood so lewdly would push your buttons. his tongue continues its slow, meticulous work before he mumbles, “m glad you like it. tastes kinda salty.”

one second he’s all teasing and smirking, and the next you’re on him, fangs out, fingers like iron shackles around his wrist as you drag it back to your mouth.

but even at that, which should scare him, even as a hunter, doesn't bother him in the slightest. he lets out a soft coo, his free hand slowly moving up to gently caress your cheek as you settle on top of him.

he doesn't even care that he might provoke you in this state when he murmurs, “so fuckin pretty, honey,” like he’s delighted.

you hover just above the open wound on his wrist, trembling with your mouth parted and full of blood you still haven’t downed. your eyes flash, dark and feral and a little wild— and he just keeps staring like he’s witnessing something holy. like you’re absolutely fucking divine.

his blood lingers on your tongue, warm and metallic. and despite your bloodthirsty disposition, you’re really not seconds away from losing it and all hell breaking loose like you assumed. you know it.

and dean does too. your stupid, gorgeous dean, presses a kiss to your bottom lip, messy with red liquid.

he slowly pulls his wrist away from your grip, but he doesn’t move far. his palm stays cupped against your cheek, grounding you, like he wants to be tasted.

“you good, buffy?” he grins, soft and teasing with his eyes locked on your face, searching for any signs that you might still be hungry.

“mhmm,” you hum, pecking his thumb with a small smile. you shift in his lap, adjusting your weight until you’re draped over him, tucked into the warmth of his body.

“yknow,” he starts, voice low. he peers down at the blood smeared on his wrist, lips parting with an aroused exhale. he clears his throat before turning back to you, still brushing your face. “you can take it whenever you need to, baby.”

you smile softly at the words, shaking your head. you wouldn't do that to him. “thank you, but-”

“no, i'm serious.” dean cuts you off sharply, voice desperate, and eyes intensely staring into yours like a promise. “don't fight it. swear to god i'll give you everything- don't haveta eat from anyone else ever again.”

you swallow, lashes fluttering as you blink profusely. you shakily breathe, and you find yourself nodding, eyes darting back to the blood seeping out of his wound. you can feel your meal sliding down the back of your tongue, thick and warm.

“please, baby, please,” he whispers huskily, his hands roaming down to grip the globes of your ass. “wanna be your everything. please.”

your hand shoots up, fingers curling around his throat, and you shove him back into the headboard— not hard, but needing. his heart's racing as he stares straight at your perfect fangs baring out to him.

and god, he loves it. he loves you. the soft, sweet side you show the world and the raw creature underneath. the monster with blood on her lips and love etched into her bones.

dean groans out your name, wanting you to take everything he has to give. he looks at you with a desperate look in his eyes. you need me, it screams.

his fingers tighten around your thighs, nails digging in. there’s a tremble in his jaw he doesn’t even try to hide. he should feel pathetic, he thinks, being this far gone over you. but he feels chosen. he wants to be consumed. in fact, he wants to cry from how much he wants you, how much he wants you to bite him, and take everything he has to give.

you growl, a sound you don’t even mean to make, and the way dean reacts is almost embarrassing. he shudders underneath you, hips twitching slightly, eyes rolling back.

your bottom lip juts out into a small pout as you squeeze his throat tighter, eliciting a small whine from him.

you shove your lips onto his, licking and sucking feverishly. he immediately kisses you back, returning your lust driven bites with needy twirls of his tongue around yours. it's gross, spit drooling down your chin with your mouth moving in the most uncoordinated motions, but neither of you care. if anything, that's what makes it so good.

your hand around his throat squeezes, and you can feel his pulse hammering against your palm. his heart’s beating like it’s trying to climb out of his chest. he pants your name against your mouth like a prayer, almost dizzy with how much he wants you.

you pull away with heavy breaths, lips bitten and soaked wet with his saliva. he groans, tilting his neck closer to you, his hand gripping your wrist to pull it away. you moan loudly, staring at the skin with eager need.

he breathes, “take me”, and you’re gone for the second time tonight.

you surge forward, fangs sinking into his throat. his blood pours over your tongue once more, thick and alive. your body jolts like it’s been electrocuted as you moan against his skin.

dean cries out, a raw, broken shout as his eyes squeeze shut. his hips buck under you and his entire body arches up into yours.

he’s completely at your mercy, letting you take whatever you need, just as long as he can get that delicious feeling of you biting him, and the crazy pleasure he gets from being your source of nourishment.

his love floods your senses, overtaking every thought. you weren’t starving before, but nothing has ever felt so good as this. as his blood, your dean.

his eyes are heavy lidded and glassy, pupils blown wide as he feels himself being drained. there’s a tear slipping from the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t even feel it, too busy whispering your name like it’s the only word he remembers.

“fuck,” he chokes, voice wrecked and boyish. “you’re gonna kill me— oh god, baby—”

you pull back a little, just enough to lick some seeped blood from his neck. your lips are stained crimson, eyes still half feral, and he's fighting to not completely sob at the sight.

you kiss his pulse point, slow and wet. “you're not gonna die, sweet boy.”

“i love you.” he blurts, like the words are punched out of him. he groans, squeezing the fabric of your shirt as he rolls his hips up. “oh, i love you. drain me, fuck me, take me— fuck, please!”

you moan loudly, right in his face as you grip it, holding him like he’s fragile. and he is. he’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted so badly.

he can barely even think straight, his thoughts spinning with need and desire. he wants to be the only one you ever need. he groans, eyes rolling back and his hips bucking against yours mindlessly, seeking any sort of friction.

you let out a large exhale, practically shoving your hand to the front of his jeans, tugging down the zipper with little struggle and much need. his eyebrows are pinched tight, lips parted as he yanks his pants down, kicking them off his feet.

he snatches your tiny top into his large hands, pulling it up and over your head before leaning forward to kiss you again, tongue exploring every crevice of your mouth while you slide down your panties with quiet mewling sounds.

he immediately slips two fingers past your entrance, earning a moan from you while his other hand grips the side of your face, keeping your mouth on his. he skillfully slips his digits out before shoving them right back in, over and over again.

you bite his lips, more blood drawing from the stab of your fangs.

he groans, eyes rolling back before pounding his fingers harder into you, the spongy spot of your cunt massaging against them.

you cry out his name as you reach your high, his fingers dripping like water with arousal. he whines, staring down at them. he quickly takes them into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around the skin like a man starved. you tug down his boxers, mindlessly throwing them across the room.

he smiles gently, pulling his fingers out with a small pop before flipping you to lay on your back. he bends down, leaving wet kisses along your neck and boobs as you whine with need. “i know, honey.” he coos a little shakily as he starts to drag his tip up and down your folds.

you gasp at the stretch as he slides further into you, eyes squeezing shut at the tight fit. you’re babbling like a fool in love, hands gripping his hair with a death grip. once his dick is fully inside, he pauses, waiting for the go as he murmurs words of praise into your neck.

“please, move, please..!” you plead, tugging his hair to pull him away from your skin, latching onto him as you suck on his bottom lip with a little buck of your hips.

dean moans, sticking his tongue out automatically as he starts to rock into you, thrusting at a steady pace filled with tender care despite the blood still dripping from his wounds.

a hand squeezes your nipple, twisting it between his fingers as your legs wrap around his waist. he shakes his head, using his free hand to pull under your thigh and lift a leg onto his shoulder. you cry out as he starts to hit deeper inside you at the angle, arching your chest into his.

your walls clench around him, girthy cock hitting all the right places. his balls slap against your ass as he slams into you, the lewd sound echoing throughout your apartment. his fingers slither down to your sensitive little clit, starting up small circles against it as you mewl.

it feels like he's staring into your soul as he rubs all over your clit, letting out soft whines at your wanton expression.

you’re frantically babbling, hand still tugging his hair. “g-good boy, dean, mmph..! it's so good, s-so s'good...”

your fingers swipe through the aching crimson mark on his throat, earning a mix of a grunt and moan from him as you kitten-lick your stained digits. he desperately thrusts into you, leaning forward with his tongue sticking out to copy your movement, tasting himself on your skin. it's almost creepy the way you both get off to it. your tongues brush against each other as you keep licking from your fingers, and it's enough to get you close to your release.

he notices, of course, and rapidly speeds up his fingers below, moaning your name as he pinches your puffy nub. you squeal, head tilting back as your hips jerk into his hand.

“shit, sweetheart.” he whines, releasing his grip on your nipple to spread kisses against your other tit, tongue lathering saliva as he spits down on the perky bud. “my sweet girl, fuck, i love you!”

your pussy squeezes around him like a vice as you finish. you both feel like you’ve been doused in a mind numbing drug as you cum at the same time. his jaw drops, red stained lips locked apart and eyes shut as he shoots his cum into you. he kisses your thigh on his sweaty shoulder, your cunt twitching as he lays your leg back down on the bed.

he lets out loud whimpers, cock still inside you as he feels your mix of releases seeping out of your pussy.

you open your eyes, cooing immediately at the sight of his dazed eyes, his head probably still fuzzy from the blood loss. he notices your glance and brings a hand to his neck, wincing as he touches the puncture marks left by your fangs.

he smiles sweetly. he can't help but be filled with joy from you taking his blood and seed.

god, he can barely string words together, barely even remember how to speak at all— but manages to let out one little word.

“more..” he whispers, voice barely even audible, as his hands grip your hips again.

you whine softly, shaking your head as your hands reach for his face. “no more, baby.” you exhale, still panting heavily. “mm, did so good, sweet boy..”

he sighs in defeat, but nods nonetheless. he's tired as fuck, and he did good, he pleased you. that’s all that matters.

you tiredly lean over to the nightstand, pulling out a tissue from the box before putting it against his neck. the pressure causes a slight sting, but he doesn’t mind. he loves the feeling.

his eyes flutter close as he listens to your sweet nothings, feeling a sense of delight washing over him. not wanting to lose contact with you, he grabs your hand, bringing it up to press a kiss on your knuckles. his grip's a little weak as he tugs you closer, laying down on your body.

both of you slightly wince at the aftershocks. you lean closer to give him a peck as you pull him onto you, hands threading through his hair.

he looks up at you with glassy eyes as you lazily suck on his lip, his body relaxing even more. his hand goes up to gently brush some hair away from your face before shutting his eyes. “we should clean up..” he murmurs lightly, tone all soft and sugary, and a little slurred from his fatigue.

“i'll do it.” you coo, pressing a final kiss against his mouth. he hums in content, turning his head sideways so his cheek squishes against your chest as sleep takes over him after one more declaration of love from his lips.

so, yeah. that sick, endless love dean winchester has always quietly craved is here in the grasp of a vampire. and good luck to any fucker who tried to separate them.

꒰ 𑄽𑄺 ⠀you have a new message from dolly!

i kinda hate this tbh GULP i might go back and edit cuz i did this kinda sloppy 😭😭 sorry for any mistakes !!! this has been sitting in my drafts so i kinda just wanted to get it out 😓 lowk inspired by this bot !!

taglist: @multiversefanfics @misticsilver

also tagging spn moots cough …! (lmk if u dont wanna be!!! <3) @soldiersgirl @deanstubble @losers-clvb @jaredwnch @mostlymarvelgirl @manicpixievixen @sapphic-destiel @cherrygirlfriend