This was my first smut I’ve written down. Granted I’ve written smut many a times in my head, but never had reason to write it out until now.
Hopefully enjoy! ;)
“Night, Sam.” The two of you wave as Sam disappears into his room down the hall. You and Dean wait until his door clicks shut before opening your own, Dean’s hand ghosts along your waist as you turn the key and push the door open.
You’re barely three steps into the room when his arm snakes around your waist and twirls you around, pushing you backwards until your back hits the door with a soft thud.
“Eager, Winchester?” You smile up at him. He stares down at you, his eyes bright with excitement as his tongue brushes along his lips as he takes you in, his head tilting to the side as he enjoys his view.
“Always eager for you, baby.” He breathes before he crashes his lips down to yours.
His hands land on your hips as your fingers scrap through his hair.
You’re hardly into the kiss when Dean’s fingers grip your top and carefully pull it over your head, breaking your kiss only as the fabric passes by your mouths, but as the garment hits the floor, you wrap your arms around Dean’s shoulders and hoist yourself up. His hands grip your ass as he holds you tight, pulling you even closer against him as he pulls you away from the door, putting all of your weight in his hands.
His wet lips leave yours tingling and alive as they ghost over your chin, taking home against your neck. You instantly buck against him as his rough stubble brushes along the sensitive skin, goosebumps erupting all down your body. You bring your empty lips into your teeth as your back arches and a moan escapes as he sucks up and down, hopefully leaving a mark.
Your moan elicits a breathy laugh from Dean and he pulls away to look up at you. His lips are parted and in the darkness you can see they’re already red.
Your hands cup under his ears, and ever so slowly, you pull him closer to you, letting your warm breath fan over that freckled nose of his you love so much, teasing him as you bring your lips to his, but don’t touch them, just hold them, and pull back slightly when he tries to close the gap.
“Not so fast, Winchester,” you chastise in a whisper. His lips turn upwards as he smirks at you.
You’re his little tease, and he loves it.
He begins to walk backwards, carefully as he cradles you close. He turns as he reaches the bed, ever so gently laying you down, letting his hands run down the length of your body once you’re safely out of his arms.
You expect him to lay over you, and you anticipate his weight on top of you. It’s comforting and loving, and you never want him anywhere else.
But he turns around and goes to the dresser where your speaker sits.
He doesn’t say anything as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls down some sort of list.
You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch him in the light of his iPhone.
He finds whatever he was looking for, and plugs his phone into the speaker and turns it on.
A strong bass with a light guitar softly plays through, and Dean turns back to you with a shrug and a boyish smile. He’s embarrassed a bit, but you can tell whatever he put on he really likes.
The beat is smooth, but slow, and you picture exactly what this song is going to do for you.
You raise your finger and beckon him over.
His eyes drop a bit, filled less of excitement and more anticipation.
He pulls his shirt over his head and you tilt your head as you watch his muscles flex as he shakes his shirt to the ground.
Your eyes fall to his anti-possession tattoo, but only remain a short moment before you look up at him.
And all he needs is that look to fill the space between the two of you.
His body weight is suddenly on top of yours, causing you to release a sigh as his warm skin presses against yours.
His lips return to your neck as you crawl the two of you further up the bed until his feet are no longer hanging off.
His hands go behind your back, and with skill, he releases the clasp, pulling your bra off as quickly as he can and barely letting the cool air hit your nipples before his mouth devours one.
His tongue twirls around it, his lips sucking so hard you back arches. His teeth scrap along your skin, and a shuttered whine escapes your lips.
Your nails scrap along his back and he groans into your skin, causing you to squirm under him as the space between your thighs begins to throb. It’s so close to getting the thing it so desperately desires, and its impatient.
“Pants.” You direct.
Dean pulls away from you and his fingers go to his belt buckle. He quickly pulls at the latch until it’s open and pulls his pants off in a haste Dean only ever has during these times.
You reach up and slap his arm.
“I meant mine.” You tease.
His eyes go wide and his mouth forms that little “o.”
He leans down over you and pulls the button of your jeans free. His fingers caress along the skin above your waistband, leaving a hot trail as he circles back and forth before his finger dip under your waistband, hooking onto your panties, and with one practice swoop, your jeans are flying across the room, leaving you completely naked.
Kneeling above you, Dean’s eyes travel you up and down, and you watch as he looks at you like he hasn’t seen you a thousand times before, like your body doesn’t know every inch of him, and he doesn’t know every single nerve that makes you squirm and writhe.
“God, you’re beautiful.” He shakes his head, like he doesn’t fully believe what he’s seeing.
You bring your lip in between your teeth and smile up at him.
That’s his cue.
He dips down, he’s hands surrounding your face as his eyes meet yours, and his nose brushes yours.
He doesn’t say anything, just ducks his head until his lips meet your favorite place between your neck and shoulder.
His tongue begins its trail, working it’s way across your skin, through your cleavage and around your naval, your skin prickling as he nibbles and sucks every spot until his lips meet your entrance.
He hands grab onto your hips, his fingers gripping into your skin at he places a kiss on the inside of your left thigh. You buck with anticipation as his breath fans across your right thigh. You can feel the warmth of his skin on your before his lips even touch down, and you bite back a moan as his skin meets yours. His fingers hold onto your thighs as he draws his nose further up your leg, his breath fanning over your warmth.
He places a kiss right above your folds, and your eyes close as your hips thrust into the mattress.
“Dean,” you gasp, desperate for him to end this teasing.
“Tell me what you want baby.”
“You,” you beg, your knees closing around Dean as you grow despite for friction.
His hands trace up your body, his lips brushing along your skin as he goes, leaving you dazed and breathless.
Your eyes are still closed, but you can feel him above you. You feel as his arms brush along your sides as he lowers himself down, bringing his lips to yours.
“Whatever you want, baby,” he breaths against you, his voice low and husky.
You open your eyes and find yourself staring directing into Dean’s beautiful green eyes. You would never tell him that. He would roll his eyes and say you can’t call a man beautiful, but he was, from the freckles on his cheeks to the insides of his soul.
You loved him, and no matter how undeserving he thought he was of your love, it would never change your mind.
You watch as he pushes himself off the bed, reaching over to the night stand and taking out a condom.
He turns away as he drops his boxers and rolls the rubber over himself, and before you can even blink, he’s back, settled between your thighs, and you can feel him against you, ready.
You shift your hips, brushing yourself against him, eliciting a hiss.
He doesn’t say anything as he aligns him, and you feel his tip at your base before he buries himself in you.
Your entire body arches as your fingers dig into the sheets around you, your moan of satisfaction from finally being filled being drowned out as he rasps out your name.
His hips begin moving against you, moving along to the slow and powerful beat of Led Zeppelin.
As the two of you move together, Dean’s hands find yours, and he wraps your hands together as he drags them above your head.
“God, Dean,” you cry as he pushes himself even further inside you, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust, letting him fill you again and again, until all the empty places are gone.
As the music picks up, Dean’s hands leave yours and he clutches the sheets by your head. You arms wrap around him, your nails digging into his back as he begins to pound harder, though still in pace with the slow beat, rocking you into the mattress with a breathless groan on every thrust.
His hands travel down to your waist, and before your rhythm meets his, he spins you, his back hitting the mattress and you’re suddenly on top.
But you don’t let that stop your pace.
Your hands rest on his stomach as you move back and forth, grinding yourself into him as his hips arch under you.
His hands grab onto the outside of your thighs as you ride him, your head rolling back, your eyes closed, as you enjoy every part of him, feeling yourself begin to tighten around him.
Your breaths become more ragged, shockwaves of pleasure rippling through you as you build to that beautiful moment.
“I’m so close,” you pant, each hit throwing you further and further into a bliss you’ve only ever experienced with him.
“Let go, baby.” Dean gasps.
And with his words, a white hot fire explodes inside you and you cry out.
“Oh, god. Oh, god! Dean!”
Over and over and over again as you ride out your clenching wave, dissolving into absolute pleasure, vaguely aware as Dean grunts as he finishes with you.
“Jesus christ.” Your voice shakes as you slowly come down from your orgasmic high.
“God, I love you.” He mutters through his ragged breath.
Dean’s voice snaps you out of your wanton daze.
You look down at him, and his eyes go wide as he realizes what he just said.
Your eyebrows raise up and you lick your dry lips.
“You…you do?” You bite down on the inside of your cheek, trying to contain your smile.
Dean’s eyes look to the side, like he’s trying to figure out if he should own up to what he said or pass it off as just another sexual mumbling that can’t be helped in moments like these.
His eyes close for a moment, and when they open again, he’s staring directly at you.
“How could I not?” Is all he gives you. And for Dean Winchester, that’s a lot.
Your teeth release your cheek and you can’t contain your smile as you lean down over him, your hand stretching out to meet his.
Your fingers wrap together as Dean’s other arm snakes around your shoulders, his fingers tickling your neck.
He pulls you down to him, his head lifting up to meet you as you brush your lips together, using your teeth to pull in his bottom lip, deepening the kiss as he pulls you flush against him.
His hand leaves your shoulders, and gently take hold of your waist, lowering you down to his side without breaking the two of you apart.
You settle into his side, your head resting on his shoulder as you release a satisfied sighed.
“Took you long enough,” you breath into his chest, and your head bounces as he vibrates with a chuckle.
He ducks his head and places his lips to your forehead, letting them linger until your eyes close.
I came up with this in the span of half an hour just now, all because I imagined Jerome sucking on a candy cane. Oops.
“Better watch your mouth, gorgeous.”
The redhead draws a freckled digit down the side of your ribcage, circling the inked letters you bore of his initials. Ever the loyal dame you are to him. A smirk overpowers his mouth, but he’s caught off guard as he sees you still briefly, your arm out stretching before he can stop it. You lay a splayed, opened palm slap across his cheek, daring him to say watch your language again. Pissing him off with a yank to the big dog’s chain.
His green eyes darken considerably, features screwed up. You taunt him with a leg locking around his waist, pushing him flush against your already naked chest. “What? Hmm? You don’t want me to hit you this time, baby? Can’t take it?”
His fingers wrap around your throat, tugging you up with him as he rolls up and off you. He’s snarling, baring those pearly white teeth that have you licking your lips in response. “God, I want to taste your anger, Valeska. What I wouldn’t give….”
He’s shoving you, hard, hands now on either side of your head. Hovering, he’s close enough that that single red piece of hair rests between your eyebrows, his mint stained hot breath on your mouth. The muscles in your neck strain against the watering hunger you felt. This need to fucking taste him. Just a little bit. You could beg, couldn’t you? No, not yet. Things are just heating up high.
His response to your words, to the last minute you two shared is to sink his teeth painfully into your lower lip. You feel the skin give way to the intrusion of his bite. And then he’s laughing, oh he’s laughing. That slow chortle, that echoing word. “Ha. Ha. Ha.” spreads from his mouth onto your own. He licks the blood away after, muttering how he’s tempted to spit it back into your mouth and hold you down until you choke on it.
“You have no idea how much I wish I could slit your throat with my new toy for your behavior, Y/N. Very bad girl. But then again, your father was a domineering drunk, wasn’t he? The apple of his eye is rotten to the core.”
You know he’s baiting you. You roll off the tension at his remarks. It’s what you two do. Always treading this dangerous line between taunting and terror. You feed off it. He gets high from it. It’s fucking disgusting. And you crave it, you crave it more than any god damned thing in this god forsaken city of Gotham.
Jerome Valeska is your Achilles heel, and you won’t have it any other way. You hum in response, letting him have this one. He always does this thing with his pretty mouth when you placate him, and you have this rush for it tonight. Your lips purse in his favorite pout of yours, your hands settling at nape of his neck to comb through that lush fire red hair. Christ, the hair alone made you have to clench your thighs together. You pull once, twice, your mouth hovering over Jerome’s defined jawline, your teeth scraping the flesh until it rebounded with an angry red mark.
“Can I come, baby?” A kiss to that red mark is delivered. “Use you until I feel good, Jerome?” You note his intake of sharp breath at your pronunciation of his name. Your careful, respectful manner as you use it to ask him. “I promise I’ll let you hurt me after. Whatever you want, daddy.”
He’s eyeing you now, those pupils blown so wide you feel your throat parch, your body reacting all at once. Fuck, he really is beautiful. Despite what he does, how his bitch whore of a mother tried to do to him, he’s beautiful. And he’s yours. He entrusts only you and you alone to break him. But you can’t ever break him. You are two halves of a whole.
You kiss at his nose, causing you both to smile against each other’s mouths. You know he’s agreeing, his cock giving away his unspoken answer. You draw a hand down between you two, giving him a squeeze through the fabric of his slacks. Reaching up into his silk robe, you retrieve the candy cane he had been teasing you with earlier. Drawing it from his pocket you give it a defined slow lick, your finger curling around the shaped top in strokes.
Jerome doesn’t take his eyes off you. Mesmerized. Ready. You bite your lip, your taste buds engulfed in the copper of the broken flesh. You slip a hand into the panties you wore, falling against Jerome for more friction. You’re panting as you give into yourself, that slick sound circling around the room, wrapping around you and Jerome Valeska. You whine a little, pushing the sleeve of silk up his arm until it’s caught on his elbow. You lift up the limb, those freckles decorating this beautiful man in ways otherworldly.
You inch up, letting one hand stray to rip open the top of his robe, your breasts immediately pressing into his chest. You watch his nipples harden at the change in temperate, and you waste no precious time in laying your own over his. Back to the task at hand, you straddle that freckled arm, mounting it. Your sex is pressed up against the underside of Jerome’s wrist, his erratic pulse point against your heat spurring your into slow, aching thrusts. He is yours. Fuck. He is. And he’s agreeing, you hear him, see him as you let yourself catch his gaze. You’ve said it outloud.
You remember the candy treat, taking your fingers off holding onto Jerome’s forearm, you push aside your panties, taking in the arousal that spills out, thick. Jerome clenches his teeth when you douse the candy cane with it, pressing it to his lips after, sucking in the other end. You balance yourself with your left hand wound around him, fingers pulling that ginger hair, starting to ride over his arm again, rutting your clit into his pulse point, panting against the overwhelming need for this man.
Your mouth drops open against Jerome’s, /needing/ to tell him. “You make me so wet, Valeska. So fucking wet for you. Always.”
And his voice is husky, ragged as he retorts to you. “Say it, Y/N. I need to hear that filthy mouth now, gorgeous.”
You comply, rolling against him until there was no longer any air that wasn’t shared between you two left.
“Hold my pussy, Jerome. Fuck, please?” Those long fingers unravel and cup your lace clad sex as you continue riding Jerome’s arm. Not. Enough. Fuck. More.
“Squeeze my god damn throat, Valeska! Now!”
His other arm extends to grant your wish, those knuckles bending as your air bottoms out, your vision catching swirls. You laugh, tossing your head back, arched out and riding Jerome. You were taking your pleasure right now. Owning it. You own him and he owns you. This ignites you until you’re whimpering pathetically, right there. That rumbling current slamming into your belly, pooling inside your heat. Your heart is beating faster, Jerome’s breathing labored, watching you ride him like it is the most magnificent show in Gotham to him. No, on earth. His eyes dance with consist enchantment.
“Go on, gorgeous. Come on. Let’s get you there.” He’s punching out two fingers until they’re inside of you. And you’re coming undone, that wave causing you to collapse against his hand, your throat constricting when you cry out through your orgasm. Jerome catches you against his shoulder, both your chests still flush together. He brushes his fingers through your hair, about to say something when the bell of your room is buzzed more than once.
“Lack of fucking manners in this city,” Jerome huffs.
You grin lazily, lifting the candy cane with the slightly shared edge, scolding him first for his language, but your idea making up for it in hindsight. His eyes grow dark, taking the object as you give your suggestion.
“Didn’t you mention something about wanting to slit a throat?”
Berena at the Olympics - Bernie keeps missing the big moments because she'd much rather watch Serena instead!
So this can be taken either one of two ways - they’re watching the Olympics at home, or they’ve actually gone to Rio.
Serena bursting into applause when the women’s hockey team wins yet another game (because she used to play hockey in her younger days, thank you very much) and turns to gesture wildly at Bernie. Only to see that Bernie’s not paid the slightest bit of attention to the TV at all, and is instead tracing patterns against her skin and tracking the pattern of her freckles across her shoulders.
“GET IN!! YOU BEAUTIFUL MAN!” Serena yells at the telly as Mo Farrah wins the gold, punching the air and expects Bernie to do the same. Instead, Bernie is staring at her with a goofy grin and Serena rolls her eyes and takes Bernie’s face in her hands to turn it towards the TV. “Would you please pay more attention to our country being brilliant and less time staring at my chest?”
Bernie eventually just drawing Serena down to sit on her lap because she keeps jumping up so abruptly that she nearly falls on her face every time Murray wins a point. She tries her best to distract Serena by kissing her neck, but Serena’s having none of it. Bernie gives in to just playing with Serena’s hair instead.
“Good grief it’s hot”.
“We’re in Rio, love. What did you expect? Snow?”
“Well we’re not all used to living in the desert, thank you very much”.
Holding onto each other as they make their way through the crowds, Serena refusing to let go of Bernie because she’s certain that as soon as she does she’ll never find her again. When Bernie goes to get a drink during halftime at Rugby Sevens, Serena is sure that she should now be a part of the International Missing Person’s list.
Serena getting sunburned whilst watching the volleyball (Bernie dragged her there grumbling, but now she’s really rather into it) and complaining all the way back to the hotel. Bernie draws her a cool bath and tries not to compare her to a lobster. She fails.
Bernie vowing that she’s going to start cycling again after she sees Laura Trott win the gold, and Serena laughing at her because “is this going to be like when you said you’d fix the washing machine? Or when you wanted to take up gardening?” And Bernie scowling for the rest of the day because come on Serena, that was one time! And I called a man eventually to come fix the washing machine!
Request: Hello! I heard that you wanted more requests so here you go! Can you write a dean x reader one shot where the reader and Dean are happily dating and in love. The reader is severely injured/dying due to a hunt gone wrong and she relives all of her best memories with the boys (mostly Dean). You can choose whether it’s a happy or sad ending! Oh and lots and lots of fluff please :) xoxo
A/N: How many times can I apologize for lacking in my writings for you guys? Answer: Apparently always. I am so sorry, but I really hope you like this! It took me FOR-freaking-EVER because it’s so long so if you don’t like long fics, I am terribly sorry! I have also been in the making of this for over a month and I just wanted to get out Part one since I fear my lovely followers hate really long fics.
Warnings: FLUFF, Talk of family deaths
Pairing(s): Dean x Reader ; I also added a charcter mentioned for a minute who is the reader’s sister. If you have a sister, perfect! If not, I’m sorry I kinda put it in for backstory, but maybe just pretend? :)