okay but imagine dayton white giving you victory head: he’s just won the biggest race of his life and he’s just buzzing with energy afterwards, can’t contain the smile on his face if you paid him to. as soon as he gets the chance, he’s pulling you away, away from the gaggle of people trying to get pictures and congratulate him. he guides you to the trailer they use to move his car race to race, throwing open the driver’s seat door and throwing you across the seats. it’s tight fit, but there’s /just/ enough room for him to get your pants and panties off. he bends over you, still wearing his hat and that goddamn jumpsuit, and just goes to town, mouth working at your heat as soon as you spread your legs. he’s frantic with it, the hands holding on to your hips are shaking, tongue and teeth and lips working in tandem to get you off. all the while, you’re guiding his head, fingers wrapped around the bill off his cap. you find your release not once, not twice, but /three/ times before he finally lets up, pulling away, boyish grin pulling at his sinful lips.
"Did I do good, darlin’?“ he asks you, southern accent just that much thicker, dripping from his mouth like honey. you’re nodding, blissful and breathless at the sudden turn of events as he cleans you up the best he can, using napkins he finds from the glove department.
eventually you two make it back to the crowd and his friends hunt you down, asking where the two of you went off to. the words die on their lips as they take in the blush high on your cheeks and the way his lips are too pink, plump and swollen.
"Do a little celebratin’ on your own, White?”
the man in question just shrugs, tugging you into his side by your waist. he hides his sly grin in your hair, pale eyes shinin’ with mischief. “Had to get my girl as excited as I was, is all.”
Warnings: language, sexual frustration, smutarific, masturbation
Word Count: 2.8k
A/N: 6k Celebration and One Year Fic-i-versary Celebration Fic TWENTY. The line requested was, “You’re like a walking encyclopedia of weirdness.” It was requested by @docharleythegeekqueen. It will be highlighted in the fic. I am also including my line for @avasmommy224 Dirty Thirty challenge which is “Don’t knock masturbation. It’s sex with someone I love.” Let’s see if I can’t make this good for everyone. ;) Happy Birthday, Jenn! :D
Summary: It wasn’t like Dan hadn’t expected to wake up next to Phil, it’s just that he hadn’t expected to wake up and see Phil on top of him already half hard in his boxers, a vibrating cock ring in one hand and a devilish glint in his eye. An involuntary shiver ran down Dan’s spine as he thought about the last time they’d used them - a month ago - and honestly Dan had just assumed that Phil had forgotten about their stupid challenge and the cock rings.
Summary: Dan and Phil have been together for seven years. Their love used to feel so soft and sweet, but now all they seem to do is fight. The insults are getting worse and it’s starting to get physical. They both hate it, until they realise they love it.
Summary: In their relationship, everyone expected Dan to be the dominant one. He was taller than his boyfriend, obviously stronger, and was prepared to fight anyone who so much looked at Phil weirdly. Phil wasn’t. Phil was soft, gentle, nice to everyone, and angelic.
Summary: When Phil finds a pair of panties mixed in with his and Dan’s laundry, he’s not sure what to think, consider he’s certain neither of them has brought home a girl in the past few weeks. What’s even stranger is what he finds in Dan’s room when he goes to inquire about the offending garment.
You hiked up your skirt, showing just the right amount of skin. You pressed your breasts together, your cleavage slightly spilling over the top of your blouse, the bra you selected this morning doing its job properly, keep the girls in view, perky and ready for action.
Dean eyed you carefully, his brow furrowed, a deep line forming between his eyebrows.
“Well, I’m gonna go crack this douche. Not sure he’ll be able to resist all this,” you smirked, tugging your shirt down a little more.
Dean couldn’t hold his tongue any longer.
“Wow. Just like that?” he spat, his lip snarling as his eyes racked over your body.
“What the hell are you talking about Dean?” you asked, following Dean’s eyes and checking yourself out in the mirror. You smiled proudly. No guy, especially this dick you were about to interview, would be able to resist telling you everything you wanted to know about the girl that had disappeared a few nights ago.
“Fuck that,” Dean growled, stepping closer to you, boxing you in between his firm body and the wall behind you. Your chest heaved slightly by the sudden close proximity, your breasts lightly brushing Dean’s chest with reach intake of breath.
“Dean,” you whispered, your voice airy and needy.
“You’re right about one thing, Y/N,” Dean muttered, his large hand landing on your waist, gripping you tight. “There isn’t a single fucking guy that would turn you away.”
He moved in closer, his body pressing you into the wall behind you, the line of his erection pressing into your stomach.
“It’s the job, Dean,” you huffed without conviction, your body moving closer to his of its on volition.
“Fuck the job,” Dean said through gritted teeth, his lips hot on yours before you could respond.
The minute you were over your shock, your hands reached out and grabbed fists full of Dean’s suit jacket, holding him to you desperately as his tongue lay claim to yours. It moved at slow and languid pace against yours, yet it was strong and insistent. A groan rose up in your chest as Dean’s hands gripped you tight.
Dean’s mouth left yours, causing you to whimper, until his sinful lips trailed down your jaw, to the juncture where your neck met your shoulder as he sucked a dark purple mark.
“Mine,” he moaned against your skin, moving lower to plant reverent kisses on the swell of your breasts. “Don’t care if no one can resist this,” he mumbled, ripping your white blouse open, a gasp escaping your lips. “I want you to be for me only,” he whispered, pushing your shirt off your shoulders and kissing you fiercely again.
Your hands ran along his thick neck and into his freshly cut hair, the tips of your fingers dancing along the short hairs on his head.
“Then stake your claim, Winchester,” you moaned when you pulled away from his lips.
Dean grabbed your ass and hoisted you up, causing you to wrap your legs around his narrow waist. He pulled away from the wall, taking you with him, walking you to the bed. He let you bounce lightly on it and watched you with a predatory grin. He shucked his suit jacket, tossing it in a chair before hovering over you, his breath mingling with yours as he spoke.
“Hold on tight, sweetheart,” he warned, his lips grazing yours before he spoke again. “Cause once I have a taste, I’m never gonna be able to let you go,” he assured you as he pulled your skirt down your legs.
“Prove it,” you challenged, your legs falling open for him to settle between them. He was on you in seconds, laying claim to what had always been his.
Dean spent the entire night proving to you that you were his and his alone.
Summary: You and Dean have an important talk. Pairing: Dean x Reader Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle Word Counting: 1.6k Chapter: 3/35 Chapter name: I don’t blame you Warnings: Set in season 2. Cannon divergence. Light angst. Smut. Oral sex. The Winchesters are literally ignoring John’s death and pretending things are just fine. Gifs aren’t mine