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yourandroidgirl · 8 months

Text

i'll do whatever he wants all night

dean/john, E, borderline noncon, 2k

read on ao3

John is pissed off at Dean. Dean tries to get his attention by jerking off in the car while he drives. He gets his attention.

Dad still wouldn’t look at him.

They were barrelling down I-80 on their way out of Nebraska in the middle of the night. Dean had jammed a Blue Oyster Cult cassette into the radio to cope with the silence. He’d already gnawed one of his fingernails bloody and was working on a second. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he glanced over at his father in the driver’s seat. He might as well not have been there.

It was his own fault, in all fairness. John had him playing monster bait when he was sixteen goddamn years old, it’s not like he was afraid. If he’d just kept his mouth shut, if he could’ve resisted the urge to pick at the raw, open wound that was Sam’s absence—You’d have never made Sammy do this. It had sounded so clever in his head.

He threw back the rest of John’s flask in one large gulp, dropping it on the floor near his feet. His fingertips were buzzing with the need to reach out and touch him, to grab at his face and make him look. On a normal night he’d have pressed a hand into his lap, maybe sucked him off for good measure. His mouth watered at the thought.

“So you’re definitely not talking to me, right?”

More silence. John’s focus never strayed from the road, his grip on the wheel steady. Dean rolled his eyes. The vodka was just starting to blur the edges of his thoughts, and he tried to lose himself in the haze. What they’d been doing since Sam left maybe wasn’t normal. Maybe it wasn’t smart. But it didn’t exactly feel fair that John seemed to turn it off like a switch only when he wanted to punish Dean.

Another glance. More nothing from John. Dean grit his teeth. He let a hand fall between his thighs, pressing experimentally. He’d prefer if it were John’s hand on him—he was getting hard just thinking about it—but it didn’t seem like he was going to get it tonight. His belt was undone before he could stop himself. Hell, if Dad was gonna pretend he wasn’t there, who exactly was he hurting?

Still, it was like plunging into icy water, getting his cock out while John was still mad at him. It had him panting already, chest heaving as he fisted himself with intent, a knee bent up against the car door to make room. His head fell back against the headrest, eyes lidded, toes curling in his boots.

John was better at this, had years more experience. Dean tried to mimick the twisty upstroke he did that never failed to make him crazy. A small, broken noise passed his lips as he worked his fingers under the head, right where he was most sensitive.

“Stop it.”

Dean forced his eyes to open, rhythm faltering. John was glaring daggers at him, knuckles white on the wheel, the set of his jaw clenched tight. His head turned back to the road when Dean met his gaze, his meaning clear. It was an order.

Dean dug his teeth into his bottom lip. Make me, he wanted to say, but it was the kind of thing reserved for kids with dads too afraid to put their hands on them.

Instead he picked up the pace, tightening his grip, thighs tense and twitching. He was teetering on the edge just from the tension in the car, heart hammering solid against his ribcage. The next time his dad glanced over, just for a moment, he made a point to bring his hand up to his mouth and drag his tongue over his palm, slow and wet and performative.

“Dean,” John gritted out, low in his throat like a threat, upper lip curling into a snarl.

Dean let out a breathy whimper, circled a fingertip over his slit where he was leaking, hips canting up involuntarily to meet his strokes. He felt insane, exposed, like his brain was hooked up to a live wire. He let his free hand wander up under his shirt to brush over his nipples, because he was fairly certain it’d been about to reach out and clutch desperately at John’s jacket.

His dick was starting to throb, and he had to pause and grip the base to keep from losing it. He watched John, who was refusing to look at him again, but Dean knew better. He could make out the bulge in the dark denim of his jeans. If he knew nothing else, he knew the effect he had on him. It was a devastating, ugly thing that followed them wherever they went, and if John could get rid of it, if he could rip it out of himself with a sharp enough knife, he’d have done it a long time ago.

Dean’s legs were falling further apart in the enclosed space of the car. He was too close to stop this time, letting noises escape his mouth that he’d normally be embarrassed about. His whole body was tensing up, his shirt plastered to his back with sweat.

Suddenly the car was slamming to a stop, so abrupt that Dean flew off the seat and against the dashboard, barely time enough to throw his hands up to catch himself. He hit the door next, the scenery outside the windows a blur. Sam’s voice in his head—They invented seatbelts for a reason.

John had pulled them onto a winding dirt road, only going far enough to get off the highway. Still not looking at him, he threw open his door and got out. Dean froze. Coming was the furthest thing from his mind as he watched his dad make his way around the car to the passenger side.

He only had time to shove himself back into his boxers before John yanked the door open and dragged him out. Dean could barely breathe. He was gonna beat the brakes off of him, Dean was certain of it—and fuck, he probably deserved it. But then he gave an arguably performative look over each of his shoulders and hauled Dean around to the front of the Impala.

Before he could get a question out, John snapped, “Hands on the hood.”

Dean exhaled sharply, didn’t even realize he was holding his breath. He turned shakily around and did as he was told, leaned forward to press his body to the hot metal of the car, palms down.

John’s big hands were up under his shirt, his hips slotting insistently against Dean’s. His heart was in his throat. He could feel the hard line of his gun at his waist, and Dean let himself wonder what it would feel like pressed against his head. He wondered if John would do it, if he’d had the guts to ask.

John hastily pulled his jeans and boxers down around his thighs. His hands grabbed at his ass to spread him open, and Dean braced himself for the blunted press of his father’s cock on his hole. But it didn’t come—instead what he felt was hot and wet. He barely managed to stifle a moan in his shoulder as John’s tongue worked him over, eyes rolling in his head. He was terrified of making a sound, because despite what anyone that saw them might think, John wasn’t doing this for him.

Dean could hear a faint metallic noise, and he realized distantly that it was his own nails scraping against the metal of the car, trying to find purchase. John had a thumb pressed up against his rim that was making him insane, making his thighs tremble, but the licking and sucking at his hole never slowed down, never let up. He slid two wet fingers inside him without warning, only gave him a few strokes before he made it three. Dean was near hysterics. His back arched before he could stop it, and his face burned at what he must look like right then.

John finally pulled back. Dean’s head fell forward to the car, breath coming out in choppy, heaving intervals. The sound of John’s belt and then his zipper coming undone sent a shudder up his spine. There was lube in the glovebox but he couldn’t imagine daring to speak, let alone to ask for John to go get it.

His dad braced a forearm against the small of his back as he pushed the head of his cock inside, used a foot to kick his ankles further apart. Dean couldn’t help it, he curled an arm over the back of his head like he was trying to hide. It ached like nothing else, and he couldn’t have been even halfway in before Dean was reaching a hand back to push against John’s hips. John snatched him by the wrist so tightly his bones ground together.

“On the hood,” he said quietly. There was a silent I won’t say it again in his tone. “You can take it.”

Dean nodded once, his throat numb, and pressed his hands back down.

John kept pushing. The pressure was steady and overwhelming and it shoved every thought Dean had ever had right out of his head. Hands moved to his hips to hold him still as John started bucking into him, shallow thrusts that kept Dean from getting a full breath in.

He fisted the back of his shirt as he bottomed out, and Dean was grateful his dad couldn’t see his face because he was pretty sure his eyes were crossing. He was suddenly acutely aware of how hard his dick was underneath him. He could feel himself sliding in the pool of precome that had started to collect.

He’d given it a valiant effort but he couldn’t be quiet anymore. Spit wasn’t enough—he could feel every centimeter of John dragging inside him, filling him up. He was pulling him back by his shirt to meet his thrusts and forcing feral, ragged noises out of his mouth.

He could hear John groaning, and his fingers twitched with how badly it made him want to touch himself. “Jesus, you’re so fucking—” His voice broke off to groan again, hammering into him now. He got a grip around one of Dean’s thighs and lifted until he got the idea, one leg bending up onto the hood as far as his jeans would let him.

When he pushed into him again, Dean let out a broken cry, white-hot electricity shooting up his spine. He could hear the smirk in John’s voice. “There we go.”

He ground himself into Dean, impossibly deep, probably in his guts by now. Dean might have been rocking back against him, he wasn’t sure anymore. John bent down and panted hot on the back of Dean’s neck, before he moved underneath his jaw and let his teeth connect. Dean was practically crying with the effort it took to keep his hands in front of him. It was too much, he was too full, too vulnerable. He’d never felt this helpless before.

All of John’s weight was on him as his rhythm started to get erratic. Dean was pretty sure he was dying, stuck somewhere between coming and not coming. He shoved into him once, twice, three times before he stayed there, grinding out his orgasm, and Dean’s eyes were welling up before John reached underneath him and got a hand on his cock. It was all it took—Dean choked on a scream as it hit him, hips pushing back against John as he came almost violently into his hand, head shoved into his shoulder.

John let him try and catch his breath for a minute. His legs were barely keeping him upright.

“You okay?” he muttered into Dean’s neck. Dean managed a nod.

He whined when he finally pulled out. He could feel a trickle of come sliding down the inside of his thigh as John turned him around to lean against the car. He pulled his jeans up for him, buttoned them, fastened his belt in a way that felt unbearably intimate, more so than fucking him. He did the same for himself, quickly. His eyes met Dean’s.

“You’d better speak to me with some respect, or not at all,” said John, watching him carefully.

Dean nodded again. “I’m sorry, sir.”

John nodded too. He scrubbed a hand over his face, his expression unreadable. “Get in the car.”

He stepped back and Dean stumbled shakily to the passenger side door. He wished they had more vodka. He wasn’t convinced his dad had forgiven him, but at least he was looking at him again.

#deanjohn #johndean #wincest #this was supposed to be for dadfucker friday but here we are #b.fic #also if you saw me accidentally post this last night. no you didn’t

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gloriousfckingpurpose · 10 months

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throwing my hat into the ring with what was meant to just be horny thoughts on the in-lore implications of swiss disappearing during miasma, but spiralled into much longer PWP

swiss/water ghoul!oc/rain - 2.9k words

under the cut or on AO3

Their knees had started to cramp slightly by the time the final notes to He Is played through the tinny speakers in the ghouls’ greenroom, anticipation running through their body like a live wire, their unglamoured tail thumping impatiently against the floor as they fidgeted idly with a small button in their hand.

It had been just a one time thing last tour. Swiss would slip offstage every night during Miasma, much to Copia’s chagrin, and disappear to do hell knows what until right before the next song started; it just so happened that Curse got in the way by accident one night and was dragged along with him into the greenroom, and it had been in the back of their mind ever since.

At least, it was in the back of their mind until Rain had yanked them back by the horns a week ago, eyes narrowed with a cruel smile on his lips as they struggled to apologize for moaning a different name around his cock.

“Tell me.”

And they had. They’d told him probably too much, if they were being honest, though it was hard to stay silent with his long fingers knuckle deep inside them, worming their fantasies out with every brush of his thumb against their clit. And once they’d come back down to reality in his arms, Rain had helped them make a plan. Hell, he’d nearly been late to take the stage making sure everything was perfect.

Maybe twenty seconds into the song, the door to the greenroom flew open, slamming shut just as quickly as Swiss entered the room; he took maybe five steps into the room, not even bothering to remove his helmet, before catching a glimpse of Curse out of the corner of his eye, breath hitching at the sight.

They were a vision obscene knelt on the floor in front of him; thin black rope wove through their legs, forcing them into a sitting position on their heels, running so tight down their crotch their folds were visible even through the fabric of their boxers, darkened and damp just from that, before weaving up their chest and around their back to secure their wrists together. A metal O-ring gag kept their mouth open and waiting, a trail of drool hanging off their lip. Any thoughts Swiss had about getting his usual mid-show jerk off out of the way went out the window, hand flying to his belt buckle as he stepped in front of the bound ghoul.

“You could have just asked, you know.” he teased, his free hand fisting through their hair between their horns, tipping their head back to face him. “But there isn’t any fun in that, is there, snowbird?” They whined as he leaned down to their level, a hand tugging on the ropes just around their collarbone; his eyes flickered behind their head, checking that the noisemaker was in their hand, before tugging again on the harness. “Slut.”

Curse let out an unfettered moan at the insult, the rope between their legs pressing against their clit at the movement, jerking when he let the rope snap back down onto their chest. They barely had time to react as he pulled his dick out from the laced front of his pants before the hand in their hair shoved them forward onto it, the tip brushing the back of their throat. He held them there for a moment with a sigh, the water ghoul keening around his length, before a second hand wrapped around one of their horns and pushed them back, leaving it settled on their tongue.

He smirked down at them, taking in the sight and allowing them a brief moment to catch their breath, before drilling into them, using their mouth at a brutal pace. They could feel themself dripping through the thin fabric onto the carpet as he fucked their face relentlessly, rope digging into their thighs as he pulled them against their bindings. Tears pricked at their eyes as they glanced a look up at him, head thrown back in pleasure as he ignored theirs. “Fuck, your mouth… I should keep you like this more often. Tied up in the corner for me to use whenever I want.” They moaned again, louder, writhing in their binds. He chuckled, holding them down on his dick again. “You want that? Want to be my pretty little fuckdoll?” He rasped, ragged breaths giving away how affected he was too, their nose pressed into his coarse hair as pre dripped down the back of their throat. He laughed as their eyelids fluttered, watching them struggle at his knees to find any kind of friction with the rope digging into their cunt to ease the need between their legs.

A long saxophone note echoed through the speaker, signalling to Swiss that he needed to hurry up; he set back at the harsh pace, ignoring the water ghouls’ muffled cries, barely holding back groans of his own as he got closer. A soft “fuck-“ was their only warning before he pulled out, cumming directly on their face, running down into their open mouth. They whined at the loss of contact, his cum dripping off of them and intermingling with the puddle underneath their legs; as soon as he’d run the course of his orgasm, he was tucking himself back into his pants, not even sparing a glance to the exposed, whimpering ghoul at his feet as he checked himself in the mirror, looking just as he had when he’d come in. He hummed in assent, walking towards the door, before stopping and turning back to Curse.

They shuddered as he glanced back at them from the doorway, eyes alight with lust. “I’ll be back; we’re not done yet, snowbird.”

—

During bows, a hand on Swiss’ shoulder caught his attention; he winced at the contact, more riled up than usual, as Rain stepped up next to him and tossed a pick across the barricade like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“You’re welcome.”

—

To the rest of the band, it was like absolutely nothing had happened during the show.

Rain had sprinted ahead of the rest of the ghouls to the greenroom after a quick word with Swiss, bundling up the shivering water ghoul on the floor in a towel and hauling them into the venue showers before anyone else could see them; he carefully untied their legs, the soft praises spilling from his lips masked to anyone but the two of them by the sound of the water. By the time they were dried off, their face clean of dried cum and drool and their ruined boxers tucked away in their bag, the other ghouls had just started to use the showers themselves; Swiss’ hand trailed on their back just a moment too long as the pair passed him leaving for the van to the hotel, his smile turning darker as he brushed over a suspiciously rope-shaped bump underneath their baggy shirt.

Room keys were passed out like normal once they arrived; Curse was paired with Cumulus, who’d trailed back when they were set loose, whispering something to Phantom that made him blush. So focused on trying to figure out whatever it was she’d said, they didn’t even make it to their room before the door of another swung open, a strong grey arm dragging them inside.

The door slammed shut just as Curse was slammed against the neighboring wall, masking the noise, Swiss’ mouth leaving marks down their neck like a man starved. “I told you we weren’t done yet, baby.” They let out a reedy whine as his teeth dragged against skin as their glamour dropped, nipping at their gills, a hand snaking under their shirt and up their chest, running along the knots digging into them. “Still all dressed up for me…” he trailed off as their breath hitched, blushing. His hand travelled back downwards, the other coming up to grab them by the hips; they wrapped their legs and tail around his waist as he carried them over to the bed, pressing them into the sheets as his lips made their way up their jaw right into theirs. They melted into his kiss, hands wandering along his back; he pulled away with a soft groan, a trail of saliva connecting the two for a moment longer as they caught their breath.

“Let us take care of you.”

“Us?” They replied, confused, as a second set of hands brushed their hair out of their face.

“Did you really think I wasn’t going to appreciate my handiwork too, snowbird?” Rain cupped their chin, tilting it up just enough that they could see him sitting cross legged behind them. They hummed as he slipped his thumb into their parted lips, Curse instinctively sucking on it despite the ache in their jaw from the ring gag. They barely even noticed Swiss undoing their soaked pants, so focused on Rain as he shuffled the worn denim down their legs, until he pressed a leg into their crotch, now completely bare after they’d ditched the ruined boxers. They gasped around his thumb; Rain pulled it out of their mouth with a wet pop, lifting their back off the bed to allow Swiss to pull their shirt off, exposing the intricate harness that had replaced the one they’d been tied into in the greenroom.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this…” he murmured, tracing the black lines that circled their nipples, ghosting over them as he went, making Curse hiss.

Rain chuckled, watching Swiss’s enamoured stares at the smaller ghoul under them. “Had to get the rope in and out of the venue without anyone noticing somehow.”

Curse ground against the leg between theirs, hips lifting from the bed as they tried to quell the heat that had been destroying them for hours; they whined when Swiss pushed their hips back down, stepping back from the bed to kneel in front of them. He tore his gaze away from them to look up at Rain, a silent plea; he nodded, still holding Curse up by the back, high enough for them to watch him fumble to remove the rest of their clothing, throwing their boots against a wall, nearly ripping their pants as he pulled them off their ankles, landing in a heap on the floor.

He wasted no time burying his face in between their legs, Curse crying out in relief as he lapped at their cunt, nearly cumming on the spot. Rain stroked their hair as they lost themself to the multi ghoul’s ministrations, holding back a scream when Swiss slipped two fingers into them, sucking at their clit. They didn’t even have time to warn him before their eyes rolled back into their head, a long-built up orgasm tearing through them, cunt gushing as he continued to eat them out. They whimpered as Swiss added a third finger, overstimulation making the addition overwhelming. “Swiss, please-“ They sat up, reaching out to try and pull his head back, but Rain grabbed their wrist, wrenching them back by the harness with their hand over their head.

“It’s too much, I can’t-“ they pleaded, tears forming at the corners of their eyes as they looked up at Rain.

“Color?”

“Green, green, I….” Rain smiled coldly as he took their other hand from their side, holding them both above Curse crossed at the wrist, their words trailing off into a moan as Swiss’s tongue joined his fingers, fucking into their cunt without mercy. They cried out as another orgasm racked through them, Rain leaning down to kiss them, quieting their whimpers as Swiss finally pulled back, palming at his cock through his pants. They felt boneless as Rain lifted them up to a sitting position, legs quivering as he pulled them even further into his chest with the harness, tilting their head to the side with a quick tug at their horns to leave his own marks on their neck as Swiss stood, painfully hard against his jeans, face dripping even more than theirs had been at the venue. They could feel Rain’s bulge against their back too, rutting against them ever so slightly as Swiss pulled his shirt off, once again staring at Curse’s decorated chest with glassy eyes.

“You going to be good for us still? Gonna let Swiss knot you?” Rain murmured into their ear, nipping at it as they nodded breathlessly. “Good boy.” He kept them worked up with shallow bites at their throat as Swiss shed the last of his clothes, crawling onto the bed and pulling them away from Rain by the harness into a sloppy kiss, flipping them over so he laid on his back, Curse now the one hunched over him, barely holding themself up with arms on either side of his head. They idly noticed Rain getting up from the bed, but had no time to think about it as his hands travelled down to their hips, lifting them ever so slightly to position them onto his cock. They were past the point of being able to control their volume as they took him, crying out at the stretch as they sank down onto his lap. They broke away from the kiss, panting as he bottomed out in them, unable to think enough to do more than slowly grind on him. Swiss groaned, letting them adjust for a moment before snapping his hips up to meet them, fucking into them at the same drawn out pace they’d fallen into. Curse whined as he let go of their hips, one hand pulling them closer by a line of rope, the other rolling one of their nipples across calloused fingers, their head dropping in overwhelm.

They hadn’t even noticed Rain return until he fisted his hand in their hair, pulling them back from Swiss to kiss them, biting at their bottom lip as he pulled away. Swiss rolled their nipple again, elicting a gasp from Curse. A bottle cap opened behind them; they only half processed the sound amidst all the sensation before their tail was yanked upwards and a lubed finger ran across their asshole, cold as Rain pushed past the rim. They howled as he added a second finger, scissoring them open while Swiss continued to lazily fuck them from below, moaning just as loudly as he watched them come apart on Rain’s fingers and his cock. The water ghoul added a third finger, impatience evident in his silence and the way he curled his fingers into them, stretching them as fast as he could without tearing anything; by the time he pulled his fingers out, Curse was sobbing into Swiss’ chest.

They couldn’t even see through their tears as Rain pushed into them, the dull burn of pain taking them over the edge yet again, claws digging into Swiss’ back. “Haven’t even moved yet; Satanas, they ARE a slut.” Rain said mockingly to the other ghoul, both of them hissing as Curse clenched down on them as he spoke, shaking as they tried to keep themself upright. They only managed to do so for a second, as Rain pulled back, slamming back into them harshly; they screamed, arms giving out and falling back onto the multi ghoul, who’d picked up the pace as well. It took them a few thrusts but he and Rain found an even rhythm, Curse adjusted enough to Rain’s cock that the pain melted away as they fucked them out of their mind completely, all three ghouls moaning wantonly.

“Shit, come on, snowbird, let me see you-“ Swiss panted, knot swelling at their entrance; the smaller ghoul barely able to keep their eyes open as Rain pulled their head up by the hair, forcing them to meet his gaze; they let out a guttural noise at the pain, drool falling down their chin. “Look at you, taking us so well.”

A string of curses flew from Swiss’s mouth as he came, slowing his pace as his knot popped inside them, but not fully stopping as Rain’s thrusts sped up, his own knot filling out, stretching them impossibly full. He pulled their head back even further, both hands on their horns, their neck straining as he whispered in their ear. “Such a pretty little fucktoy; bet you’ll look even prettier taking both our knots.” They let out a broken cry, voice cracking as they came a fourth time, Rain close behind them, shoving his knot all the way past the rim and locking him in place as cum spilled out of their hole.

He let go of their horns, carefully maneuvering Curse back onto their knees so that Swiss could sit up, the three of them curled together waiting until they were able to pull out. Swiss brushed the tear tracks on their face away, kissing the shaking ghoul between them on the forehead. Rain had already released the ties on the harness, carefully unwinding it from their chest; the multi ghoul followed his hands, softly kneading at the places the rope had dug in the most. “Baby, you did so good.” he murmured, elicting a tired smile from them.

“Don’t think ‘m gonna be able to walk…” they slurred, voice hoarse.

Swiss huffed overdramatically, ignoring Rain’s laugh at his feign annoyance. “Guess I’ll just have to carry you around then, princess.” Curse swatted at him, purrs giving them away just as much as Swiss’s grin.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #rain ghoul #ghost band fanfic #b.fic #b.txt #listen sometimes you just have to black out and write your ocs getting dicked down

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