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Your room had become your haven in the Bunker. Between hunts, research, and Dean’s endless parade of half-empty beer bottles, it was a space that felt more like yours. There was more warmth here — low lighting, shelves cluttered with both books and crap you hadn’t bothered to organize, a hoodie tossed on the foot of your bed, and your playlist humming quietly from the speaker in the corner.
You were scrolling through your phone, half-asleep and not looking for trouble, when it found you anyway.
Three loud knocks. No rhythm. Just the sound of a guy who didn’t believe in boundaries. “Hey,” Dean’s voice called, already opening the door.
You barely sat up before he stepped inside like he owned the place.
“You ever wait for someone to answer?” you asked, not even trying to hide your annoyance.
Dean just grinned, casual as ever. “If I did that, I wouldn’t get to see the stupid look on your face when I barge in.”
“You’re a menace.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
He started pacing the room like a restless animal, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, scanning the walls, shelves, the desk, like maybe there was a mystery hidden to entertain him.
“I take it you’re not hunting for ghosts in my room?” you muttered, half joking, half annoyed.
“Nah. Just bored.” He turned a slow circle, inspecting a poster. “Sam’s neck-deep in lore. I figured I’d bug you for a bit.”
You raised a brow. “You ever consider hobbies? Normal people stuff?”
“I’m literally doing that right now.”
You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at the corner of your mouth. Dean Winchester, professional pain in the ass.
He wandered over to your dresser, tapping a few things like he was checking for stuff to mess with — the kind of nosy almost older-brother-like behaviour that usually meant he was about to start in on your taste in music or something equally dumb.
But then he stopped. Right in front of it. That damn charger.
You’d left it coiled on the dresser like an idiot. Pale pink color, too unique on the end to be anything but what it obviously was. You realized it a second too late, the moment his fingers closed around it.
“Huh,” Dean said, turning it over slowly in his hand. “Weird-looking charger.”
Your heart kicked up hard in your chest.
“It’s for a speaker,” you said instantly.
Dean squinted at it. “Doesn’t look like a speaker charger.”
“It’s foreign. Weird brand. I don’t know.”
He turned it in his fingers again, inspecting. “Doesn’t plug to a speaker. Not one I’ve seen, anyway.” Then he looked over at you with that grin — the kind that said he already knew he was onto something. “This for what I think it’s for?”
You felt the heat rise to your face so fast it made you dizzy. “Drop it.”
Dean’s smile widened like a kid finding a secret stash of candy. “Oh, dude…”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, it’s exactly what I think,” he said, holding it up between two fingers. “Pink? The weird plug? C’mon. This is rookie-level.”
You were on your feet before he could say another word, lunging forward to snatch it back.
He danced out of reach, laughing. “Whoa, whoa! You’re acting like I found your diary or something.”
“Because this is worse!” you snapped, utterly mortified. “Dean, I’m serious. Give it back.”
He held it up, still out of reach. “Hey, I’m not judging! I get it. You’re a young guy, you got needs. Happens to the best of us.”
“You don’t need to say it out loud!”
He tilted his head, grinning like a bastard. “Relax. It’s not like I caught you using it.”
“Oh my god.”
Dean finally let you grab it from his hand, but the damage was done. You shoved the charger into your nightstand drawer and slammed it shut like that might erase the last few seconds from existence.
You didn’t turn around right away. You didn’t want to see the smirk on his face.
“You’re red as a damn tomato,” he said behind you, clearly enjoying himself.
You sighed, running a hand over your face. “This is literally the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”
You turned slowly, shooting him a glare. “It’s you. In my room. Holding that damn charger.”
Dean blinked, then gave a little shrug. “Could be worse.”
“How?”
“I could’ve found the actual toy,” he said with a smirk, eyes drifting — too casually — toward your nightstand drawer. “That what’s in there?”
“Nope,” you said quickly. “Nothing. Just a back massager. And chargers. Lots of chargers.”
He grinned, walking slowly toward the nightstand like he hadn’t heard you at all. “Massager, huh? That what we’re calling it these days?”
“Dean, I’m not kidding.”
He looked at you, still grinning — but not cruel. Just Dean. Teasing, sharp-eyed, way too curious for anyone’s good. “Relax. I’m not gonna hold it up like Simba. I’m just… intrigued.”
“Be intrigued somewhere else.”
But he didn’t move. If anything, he looked more interested now.
“You’re this freaked out over a charger?” he said, voice dipping just a little. “Kinda makes me really wanna see what it plugs into.”
Your breath caught in your throat.
Dean’s eyes flicked from your face to the nightstand, then back again — like he was watching you unravel one slow thread at a time.
Then he took a step forward.
Dean’s step was slow, deliberate — but still loose enough to pretend he wasn’t doing anything serious. His eyes flicked to your nightstand drawer again, then back to you like he was gauging just how hard he could push before you’d physically tackle him.
You steadied your feet. “Don’t even think about it.”
He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, hey. I’m not gonna break into your vault.”
“It’s not funny anymore.”
Dean cocked his head, and there it was — that shift. Just a flicker. His grin softened, something behind it narrowing in on you with a sharper kind of focus.
You were flushed to the ears, fists clenched at your sides, posture screaming ‘do not touch that drawer’. And yeah, you were embarrassed — but there was something else simmering under it. A tension that hadn’t been there before.
Dean saw it. You could tell.
Which only made it worse.
“Relax,” he said, voice dropping just a notch. “I’m just messing around.”
You forced a breath. “Yeah, well, I’m not really in the mood to have my sex life analyzed by a guy who hasn’t heard of the word privacy.”
He smirked, but didn’t argue.
Then he moved again.
This time back toward the dresser, dragging a slow finger across the surface like he was looking for dust — but his eyes kept sliding back to the nightstand.
You followed him with your whole body, stepping between him and the nightstand like a human shield.
Dean stopped, raised a brow. “You guarding it now?”
“I told you. It’s nothing.”
“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms.
You clenched your jaw, desperate for some kind of comeback that didn’t make things worse. But your brain was static — full of heat and panic and the terrible realization that this was spiraling way out of your control.
“Dean,” you said, lower now. “Please. Just drop it.”
Something in your voice — the actual please — made him pause.
His smirk faltered, just a bit.
But then he grinned again, softer this time. Less like a guy poking fun and more like someone deeply entertained by how hard you were squirming.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Let me ask you something.”
You eyed him warily.
“You use it a lot?”
You nearly choked. “Are you—what the hell—Dean!”
“What?” he said, all wide-eyed innocence. “I’m trying to understand. It’s educational.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you.”
Dean chuckled and leaned back against your dresser, arms folded, still watching you like he was waiting for you to implode. “Man, you are so red right now.”
You covered your face with your hands. “You cannot be enjoying this that much.”
“Oh, I absolutely am.” He paused, then added — almost thoughtfully — “Never seen you get flustered like this.”
You lowered your hands just enough to glare at him.
His smile flickered again. Not teasing. Curious.
That was when it hit you — that little shift behind his eyes.
He wasn’t just messing around anymore. Not really.
He was looking at you. Really looking. Like he’d seen something he hadn’t been paying attention to before. Your flushed cheeks, your awkward shifting, the way you couldn’t hold eye contact to save your life. And maybe it was the silence that followed — the beat too long — that made it click.
Dean’s smile curled slow at the edges.
“Ohhhh,” he said, like it had just hit him. “Wait. You’re not embarrassed ‘cause you think I’m gonna judge you.”
You froze.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” he said, stepping forward just slightly. “You’re embarrassed ‘cause it’s me.”
You tried to say something — anything — but your throat locked up.
Dean’s eyes dropped to your mouth for a second. Then back up.
And that smile — the one that came next — wasn’t just curious.
It was knowing.
“You got a little crush on me, don’t you?” he said, quiet but smug, voice pitched low and dangerous. “Shit. That’s why you’re losing your mind.”
Your stomach flipped.
“I—no,” you said, weakly, totally unconvincing.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding like it all made sense now. “Yeah, that’s it. You think it’s humiliating ‘cause I’m the one who found it. Anyone else, maybe you could just laugh it off. But me?”
You swallowed, looking away, hoping he’d just drop it. “Dean—please,”
He didn’t.
“Damn,” Dean said, chuckling softly. “That’s kinda cute.”
Your eyes snapped back to his face. “You think this is cute?” You said in disbelief.
He shrugged, but there was a dangerous glint in his eye now. “I mean, you’re over here looking ready to commit a felony to keep me from opening a drawer. You’re flustered. Red-faced. Kinda shaking. Makes me wonder what else I could do to get you like this.”
You took a step back, breath catching, blushing even harder.
Dean followed.
“Come on,” he said, voice low and smooth now, like he was chasing the thread of something just out of reach. “What’s the big deal? It’s a toy. I ain’t judging.”
“I said stop,” you snapped — but it came out hoarse. Weak.
Dean grinned, tilting his head. “No, you didn’t. You said ‘please.’ Which was adorable, by the way.”
Your whole body went hot.
Dean leaned in a little, just enough to make the air between you buzz.
“You know,” he said casually, “if it’s that good, maybe you should show me how it works.”
You stared at him.
Dead silent.
Dean blinked once, then held up both hands like he was surprised by his own words. “Okay, that came out more pervy than I meant it.”
You didn’t say anything.
Dean paused — looked at you — and something shifted again.
You weren’t just embarrassed anymore.
You were flushed.
Breathing uneven.
And… turned on.
He saw it. You knew he saw it.
Dean tilted his head, voice lower now. “Shit. That did something for you, didn’t it?”
You backed up a step. He followed.
“You like this,” he said, almost in wonder. “You like being this embarrassed.”
“I don’t—”
“You do,” he murmured, getting closer. “You like me teasing you. Being right here, knowing that I know… that I’m thinking about you using that toy, all desperate and messy and trying not to make a noise.”
You shuddered, breath hitching.
Dean’s smile turned downright filthy.
“Shit,” he said, more to himself than to you. “I wasn’t even trying to start something, but now I kinda wanna know just how humiliated I can get you.”
He reached out, hand brushing against your arm. Testing.
“You want me to stop?” He asked, voice soft and genuine.
Your mouth opened — nothing came out.
Dean’s fingers brushed your skin.
“Didn’t think so.”
Dean’s fingers grazed yours, and you swore your pulse skipped.
“You wanna show me how it works?” he asked, voice velvet-soft.
You couldn’t even speak. Just shook your head, desperate and burning with shame.
Dean didn’t look away. Didn’t laugh.
Instead, his voice dropped even lower. Darker.
“No?” He frowned slightly. “Then maybe you want me to use it on you.”
Your knees nearly buckled.
Dean saw the way your face flushed, the way your lips parted like you were about to say something — anything — but couldn’t make a single sound.
And that slow grin of his came back.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s what I thought.”
You didn’t move when he stepped in closer, hand ghosting over your hip.
“You’re really this worked up over a little toy?” he asked. “Or is it really ‘cause it’s me?”
You looked away.
Dean gently grabbed your chin and turned your face back to his.
“Come on, boy. It’s not that big of a deal.”
You swallowed hard.
Dean smirked, then reached past you.
“Dean—” you breathed, voice catching, but it was too late.
He tugged the drawer open without hesitation.
You turned your head, burning with shame, heart slamming against your ribs as you heard him move a few things around — light clinks, the drag of objects, the unmistakable pause.
“Well, hello,” Dean said, voice thick with amusement.
You couldn’t look.
“Damn, this thing’s sleek,” he muttered. “Black? Classy.”
You dared a glance.
He was holding it between his fingers, turning it over like it was some mysterious artifact. His thumb brushed over the button.
A soft buzz filled the space.
You swallowed a sound — something between a groan and a plea.
Dean raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Strong little motor on this thing.”
“Dean, please—”
He looked at you. And all the teasing softened. Not gone, just… quieter. Focused.
He stepped in closer again, toy still humming in his hand.
He reached up with the other hand, tipping your chin with two fingers. Making you look him right in the eyes. “You can tell me to stop if you actually don’t want it. I mean that.”
You let out a shaky breath. “No.”
He smirked. “You like the idea of me knowing you get off in here, don’t you? Moaning into your pillow with that thing inside you. Thinking about me?”
You let out a soft, involuntary sound — somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.
Dean groaned. “Fuck. That’s hot.”
He stepped back just enough to nod toward the bed. “Go on. Lay down for me.”
You stared at the it, a little hesitant. But you obeyed, heart hammering in your chest, already too overwhelmed.
Dean took his time stripping you — slow, deliberate, like each layer was another inch of power you were handing him. You trembled under the weight of his gaze as he undressed you fully, his eyes trailing everywhere, taking in every detail.
“Goddamn,” he muttered. “Look at you. Naked and blushing. All flustered ‘cause I found out you own a toy.”
Your breath hitched.
Dean smiled. “You know how fucking cute that is?”
You couldn’t look at him. You were too busy trying not to squirm right off the mattress.
He crawled onto the bed beside you and ran his hand down your side, slow and warm.
Then down between your legs.
You gasped the second his fingers found your pussy — slick and already so sensitive.
“Shit,” he said, low and pleased. “Already soaked.”
He rubbed two fingers slowly over your entrance, teasing you with just the suggestion of pressure.
“All this from a little attention?” he teased. “Or is it just from me talking to you like this?”
You bit your lip, but didn’t answer.
Dean didn’t like that.
“Use your words, boy.”
You shook your head, face burning.
Dean grinned.
“Oh, that’s what this is about. You like being embarrassed.”
You whimpered. His fingers pressed in a little — enough to make your hips twitch.
“You like being exposed like this. Made small. Open. Touched.”
You nodded, eyes squeezing shut.
Dean leaned down and kissed your jaw, his voice like sin against your skin. “Yeah, you do. Dirty little thing.”
He slid a finger inside you — slow, stretching — and your back arched.
“Look at that,” he whispered. “Taking my finger so easy.”
A second finger joined the first, and you gasped — the stretch just enough to make your thighs twitch.
“You been using this toy a lot?” he asked casually, working you open.
You nodded, breathless.
“Then your body knows how to take it, huh?”
You moaned, trying not to grind down on his hand — failing miserably.
Dean chuckled darkly. “God, you’re needy. You like being treated like this.”
You nodded, barely able to breathe.
“Say it.”
You froze.
He slowed his fingers, barely moving inside you.
“Say it.”
“I…” You swallowed. “I like it.”
Dean raised a brow. “Like what?”
You hesitated.
He crooked his fingers — hard — and you gasped.
“Like being—being humiliated,” you said, voice barely audible.
Dean growled.
“There it is.”
He curled his fingers again, making you jolt.
“And what else?” he said. “What else do you like, sweetheart?”
“Praise,” you choked out, breath shaky. “I like… when you say nice things.”
Dean gave you the filthiest, sweetest grin.
“You like being my good boy?” he said, dragging the words out like they were meant to destroy you. “All flushed and obedient and vulnerable.”
You whined.
Dean kept going, curling his fingers again, his thumb brushing over your clit now, slow and gentle.
“You’re doing so good for me. Letting me touch you. Show you how you deserve to be treated.”
You moaned, legs starting to shake.
Then he pulled his fingers out — and you nearly sobbed from the loss.
But then — he picked up the toy.
“You ready for more?”
You nodded, voice gone.
Dean switched it on, the soft buzz making your body jerk in anticipation.
He kissed you once, slow and deep.
Then slid the toy down between your legs — brushed it over your clit, then lower.
You gasped as the rounded head pressed at your entrance.
Dean met your eyes.
“You’re sure?”
You nodded hard.
He pushed it in slowly — a stretch different from his fingers. Firm. Big. And God, the vibration inside you was intense, making your eyes roll back.
Dean moaned, watching your body react. “Fuck, that’s a pretty sight.”
He held it steady inside you, one hand keeping it in place while the other drifted back to your clit — rubbing it, teasing you.
“Such a good boy,” he whispered. “Taking this thing like a champ. Getting off in front of me. Being so fucking pure.”
You were writhing now, flushed and panting, hands clutching at the sheets.
Dean leaned in close, voice filthy and affectionate all at once.
“You want to cum, don’t you?”
You nodded frantically.
Dean smirked. “Not yet.”
You whimpered, thighs trembling.
“Gotta work for it, baby. Gotta earn it.”
The vibrator stayed deep, buzzing inside you while he drew slow circles around your clit, keeping you right on the edge — too much and not enough all at once.
“You’re such a mess,” he murmured, mouth at your throat now. “Blushing and needy and shaking. Just how I like you.”
You let out a wrecked sound, completely undone.
Dean kissed you — slow, claiming, unshakable.
“Gonna keep you like this a little longer,” he whispered. “Because you take it so damn well.”
Dean had you laid out, legs open, flushed and trembling while the vibrator buzzed deep inside your pussy. His hand on it was steady, firm — thrusting it in and out at a brutal pace, fucking you relentlessly.
You were moaning helplessly beneath him, head thrown back, face bright red.
Dean watched you like an obsessed man.
“Fuck,” he muttered, voice thick. “Look at you. Your pussy’s soaked. Fucking dripping around this toy like you were made for this.”
You made a choked, high-pitched sound — half sob, half moan.
Dean leaned in close, breathing against your cheek. “You hear what I said, baby? I said your pussy’s fucking drooling all over this thing. You like that?”
You whimpered, shaking your head, still trying to deny it, barely able to breathe.
He thrusts the toy deep again, hard — the vibrations hitting right against your sweet spot.
Your back arched, legs twitching violently. “Oh—fuck—Dean!”
Dean laughed under his breath. “Yeah, that’s it. Your cunt’s clenching around it so tight. You want me to make you cum?”
You nodded furiously, breath catching.
“You want me to make this needy little hole cum on your toy, right in front of me?”
You covered your face with your hands, shame crawling up your throat like fire.
Dean loved it.
He kissed your jaw, still driving the toy into you. “Aw, what’s the matter? Too shy to say it? Can’t tell me you want me to fuck your pussy till you cry?”
“D-Dean—please—” you gasped, voice cracking.
He slowed — toy still inside you, buzzing low, just enough to make you whimper.
Dean’s voice dropped. “Say it.”
You couldn’t.
He waited. “Come on, baby boy. Say you want me to make your pussy cum.”
You shook your head desperately. “I—I can’t, please—Dean,”
“Use your words.”
You whined, trying to pull your thighs together, but Dean kept you spread wide, vibrator still pressed deep inside.
Your voice came out strangled. “Please…”
Dean’s lips brushed your ear, voice pure filth.
“Say you want me to ruin your pussy.”
You let out a full-body sob, your face burning.
Dean kissed your temple.
“Come on, boy,” he whispered. “You’ve been so good for me. Just say it.”
“Dean—please… please,”
He fucked the toy in faster suddenly, fucking you hard, and your body snapped, hips jerking, toes curling, thighs shaking.
You gasped. “I—I’m Dean, I’m gonna—”
He pulled the toy out right before you came.
You let out a pitiful cry.
The orgasm died in your gut like a lightning strike, leaving you heaving, crying, hands fisted in the sheets, sobbing into the mattress.
Dean pulled back to look at you, breathless, flushed, trembling.
“Oh my god,” he said, voice low and hot. “That was fucking beautiful.”
You were gone. Your whole body was shaking. You couldn’t look at him.
Dean leaned over you, kissed the side of your shoulder. “I know, baby. That wasn’t very nice of me.”
You let out a wrecked sound, tears hot in your eyes. “Why—why’d you stop?”
Dean kissed you again, gently. “Because I love the way you sound when I don’t let you cum.”
You sobbed harder — not because it hurt or you didn’t like it, but because you’d never been so turned on in your life.
Dean shifted beside you on the bed, gathering you in his arms, one hand stroking your hair while the other ran along your inner thigh, slow and possessive.
“You’re doing so fucking good for me,” he murmured. “Letting me see all of it. Every embarrassed little noise. Every flinch. Every bit of that pretty pussy begging to cum.”
You whimpered into his neck.
Dean kissed your cheek, the toy slammed into you again, buzzing hard against your sweet spot.
“Your face is so red. That cute little lip’s all bitten up. You wanna hide from me so bad… but you keep letting me do this to you.”
“Dean—” you gasped, voice cracking. Your whole body was strung so tight you thought you might snap.
Dean angled the toy deeper, faster — his hand working it in and out with practiced rhythm, and your body sobbed against the sensation.
Your thighs trembled violently, your stomach tight.
You felt it building — fast, white-hot, dizzying.
“Dean—I’m gonna—” You couldn’t even finish the sentence.
And then. He pulled it out again.
A broken sob rips from your throat as your hips bucked into his body.
Dean laughed softly. “I know baby. I’m being so mean right now.”
You covered your face with your hand, shaking with frustration and shame.
Dean smiled, filthy and warm. “You’re gonna cum for me, sweetheart. I promise.”
You nodded, sniffling, holding onto his flannel like you’d fall apart without it.
“But not yet.”
You were trembling under Dean — your legs shaking, lips parted, thighs slick and sore from being spread so wide for so long. Your pussy throbbed with every breath, still clenching around nothing, aching with need.
And Dean… Dean had you like he owned you.
Toy in hand. Eyes locked on your flushed face. Smile sharp, but soft around the edges now — not mocking anymore. Just hungry.
“You wanna cum, baby?” he asked, voice low and sweet.
You nodded desperately, tears brimming again.
Dean didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.
“I wanna hear you beg for it.”
You whimpered, voice thin and hoarse. “Dean—please—please let me.”
He leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “Not enough. Not after all that. I wanna hear you say it.”
You turned your face away, shame burning through you.
Dean grinned against your skin. “What’s the matter? You’re too shy to say what you want?”
You gasped, face hot as hell, but your body ached. You were broken open, raw and desperate, and every second he didn’t let you finish made you feel like you were going to scream.
Dean pressed the tip of the toy back into your entrance — just barely.
“Say it,” he whispered. “Say you want me to fuck your pussy and make you cum like a good little boy.”
You whimpered, eyes shut tight. “I—I c-can’t…”
“Yes you can,” he said, dragging it down slow. “You’ve taken everything else. Say it.”
You were shaking.
But you wanted it.
You needed it.
“P-please,” you choked. “Please f-fuck my pussy, Dean—please let me—let me cum—please, I need it.”
Dean groaned, the sound low and ragged. “Fuck, that’s it.”
He kissed you — deep, claiming — and pushed the toy in hard.
You screamed, arms wrapping tight around him as he buried it to the base and started fucking you with it, fast. Brutal. No more teasing, no mercy.
His hand slipped under your back and pulled you flush against his body, one arm wrapped fully around you now, keeping your chest pressed to his — your face buried in his shirt, gasping, sobbing, clinging.
You held onto him like you were falling.
Dean didn’t stop. His arm around your waist held you tight, grounding you while the toy pounded into your pussy, buzzing deep and merciless.
“You’re gonna cum for me,” he growled into your ear. “All over this toy. All over me.”
“Dean—Dean—please!”
“That’s it. So good. Such a good fucking boy. Cum for me.”
And then it hit you.
Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train — white-hot, explosive, ripping through your entire body as you let out a shattered moan into Dean’s chest. Your arms locked around his torso, face buried in his shirt as your pussy clenched down hard, soaking everything, pulsing around the toy again and again.
Dean held you through it — his arm wrapped tight around you, hand cradling the back of your head, keeping you close as you shook against his big frame, moaning helplessly into him.
He didn’t slow down even when your hips bucked from the overstimulation, you were loudly sobbing into his chest, begging him to stop, clutching his shirt like your life depended on it.
“Dean—p-please… no more— I can’t.”
Dean didn’t stop. “You can take it.” he growled, voice low and dark, right in your ear.
You nodded through your cries, barely able to breathe.
He thrusted the toy deep inside your pussy— fast, precise, devastating.
Your hand shot out, fingers gripping his wrist, trying to stop the motion.
Then, finally — finally— he pulled it out.
You gasped, full-body twitching, face still buried in Dean’s shirt, breathing him in.
He turned the vibrator off and tossed it to the side, wrapped both arms around you, kissing your temple, stroking your back, whispering sweet nothings into your hair.
“You’re okay,” he murmured. “I got you. I’ve got you.”
You whimpered, nuzzling in tighter, trying to calm down.
Dean kept you close, rocking you just slightly — like you were breakable, precious.
“You were perfect for me,” he whispered. “Took it so well. Let me see every little part of you.”
You sniffled, body still buzzing, nerves fried.
Dean just kept holding you, soothing you.
Your breathing had finally started to calm. You were still curled in Dean’s arms, your face tucked into the collar of his flannel, heartbeat just now returning to normal.
The room was quiet, warm, filled with the scent of sweat, sex and Dean.
And then it hit you.
Everything you’d just done. Everything you’d said.
Oh my god.
Your whole body stiffened.
Dean felt it immediately. “Hey,” he said gently, stroking your back. “What’s wrong?”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
You were too busy reliving the horror.
The begging.
The crying.
The pussy talk.
“Darling?” Dean pulled back just enough to look at you.
You covered your face with both hands and groaned into them. “Oh my god.”
Dean blinked. “…Ah. There it is.”
You groaned louder.
He grinned. “Post-nut clarity hitting like a wrecking ball, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“Never.”
You peeked at him between your fingers, face blazing red. “I can’t believe I said all that.”
Dean shrugged, smug. “I can. Sounded pretty damn good from where I was lying.”
You let out a miserable whine and curled into him again, trying to disappear into his chest.
Dean chuckled and wrapped his arms back around you. “Come on, baby. You were perfect.”
“I said please like… like a hundred times.” You whined.
“Probably more than that.”
“Dean.”
He laughed, low and warm, brushing his lips against your hair. “You wanna know what I think?”
“No.”
“I saw a gorgeous, desperate young man who trusted me enough to lose his mind in my hands.”
You went still again — heartbeat stuttering.
Dean softened.
“I saw you, sweetheart,” he said, voice quieter now. “Your most vulnerable version. And I loved all of it.”
You didn’t say anything — just buried your face in his shirt again, quieter this time. Still embarrassed, yeah, but something deeper curled warm in your chest.
Dean kissed the top of your head.
“Still wanna hide?”
You muttered, “Only like forever.”
Dean smiled. “Too bad. I’ve already got plans for next time.”
You groaned again. Dean only held you closer.