supernatural oneshots

bitchin' - dean x reader (SMUT)

CONTENT: violence (hunting), slow burn sorryy, SMUT, only one bed~ enemies to lovers (kinda), unprotected p in v (encase before you embrace), hate sex, Dean calls reader "princess" mockingly, manhandling, slapping, spanking, big dick!Dean has all the audacity, dirty talk, degradation, choking, cum eating, brat taming, edging, overstimulation, squirting

word count: 4.7k

✧──────✧

To say you were unhappy to be working with Dean Winchester would be putting it lightly. A massive understatement, in fact. But, as luck would have it, you needed backup on a vamp case; and when you called Bobby Singer for help, it turned out that Dean was the only hunter nearby.

Your jaw set uncomfortably as you dialed his number and held the phone to your ear. Asking for help from anyone was hard, but from this man? Practically your mortal enemy? A feeling of shame, or maybe embarrassment, crept into your stomach as you listened to the phone ring.

He's probably just watching it ring, you thought cynically. Who's to say he would pick up at all? Maybe he won't, you hoped.

There was a laundry list of reasons why Dean was the last person you'd want to work with on a case. He was reckless, had no respect for plans, and tended to go in guns blazing without regard for his own life, which meant that you would constantly be saving his ass. And boy, was he a pain in yours.

The cherry on top of the Dean Winchester disaster cake was that he hated your guts. You never really figured out why, but you assumed it was his misogynistic tendency to be completely contrary to any woman he met who didn't fall all over him. God forbid a woman doesn't care about his rugged good looks or roguish bravery!

When he finally picked up, you could practically hear the smirk in his voice, dripping with self-righteousness. "Well, well. What do you want?"

You decided it would be best to cut to the chase and just get it over with. "I'm working a case in Nevada," you said calmly. He would not get you riled up. "Vegas. There's a vamp nest, been snatching homeless people. Tunnel dwellers," you added. "Not that it matters. People are people, vamps are vamps."

"What are you tellin' me for?" Dean asked gruffly. He was gonna make you say it. Of fucking course he was, because he just had to hold it over your head.

"Need backup," you said curtly. "There's at least five of them."

"So what you're sayin' is...." The smugness in his voice was unmistakeable.

"I need your help, you dick."

"Oh do you now."

You huffed, already fed up with him. "Bobby says you're the only hunter he knows nearby. Said you're in Flagstaff."

"Maybe I am," he said vaguely. "Bobby should know not to tell you anything about where I am or recommend me as reinforcements for you."

"He didn't want to, but I made him. Are you coming or not?" you said sharply.

I'll be there by nightfall. Don't wait up," he said teasingly and hung up, leaving you to listen to the tone, steaming.

Why does he have to make everything so difficult?

✧──────✧

Rough pounding on the door of your motel room startled you up from your chair at midnight. Dean wasn't even in the room yet, and he was already tormenting you. You went to the door and jerked it open, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could feel the headache coming on.