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zepskies · 1 year

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Never Say Goodbye - Part 10

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

AN: Bear in mind, season 2 aired/took place circa 2006, so references like iPods are going to be dated lol.

Word Count: 5,500 Warnings: M-rated chapter ahead—18+ only! Angst, smut, fluff, and feels. Oh yeah, and kidnapping.

Part 10: Worthy

In the months after John Winchester’s death, Sam and Dean spent even more time on the road than before. Hunting down the demon, as well as trying to find the Colt.

You helped them the best you could with research on their various cases. However, now that you had been promoted to Library Curator at the museum, you had even more access to scholarly research and ancient texts, but even less time on your hands.

If you were honest (and you weren’t), it was getting harder to balance your real job and Sam and Dean’s requests. But you knew if you said so, Dean would never ask you for help again. At the end of the day, it kept you connected to them. And you liked helping out.

The next time the brothers came home marked a few months shy of two years since you’d met Dean. When they were a day’s drive away, he called you to ask you something he’d never asked before…

He wanted to take you out to dinner.

You had cooked for him before. He had cooked for you. You two had ordered in and gone to grab dinner with Sam in tow. But in almost two years, you and Dean had never gone on an actual dinner date, getting dressed up, just the two of you.

Needless to say, you were very excited…but you also had no idea what to wear.

Dean had seen you in the professional blouses, slacks, and skirts you wore for work. He’d seen you in ratty old college shirts and yoga pants while slurping ramen noodles from a plastic cup. He’d also seen you in nothing but one of his old buttoned-down shirts, and then, in nothing at all.

But he’d never seen you dressed to kill. That wasn’t to say you couldn’t pull it off, because you most certainly could. It had just…been a while.

So you dove into the shadowy recesses of your closet and searched for something you knew he hadn’t seen before. And you might’ve gone to the mall and bought a couple new pieces of lingerie, just in case the night went really well.

You were grateful Dean gave you a full day’s notice. It gave you the time to mentally prepare, but you still had to call him again to verify a few things.

“Okay, but where are we going?” you asked. “Casual dressy or dressy, dressy?”

Dean chuckled. “I have no idea what that means.”

He sounded tired to you, but the playful note in his voice still made you smile.

“It means just tell me where we’re going,” you said with a laugh.

“Nope,” he refused. “But here’s what I can do for you. I’ll be leaving the leather jacket at home this time.”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully. “Okay. That’s something, at least. Man, you really are the worst with these little guessing games.”

“I think you mean the best,” he joked. “Remember, I’ll be there by seven tomorrow.”

You let out an annoyed huff. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He was still laughing when you hung up on him. You now had a plan though.

The next day was a Friday. You were able to get off work right at five, but that still only gave you two hours to shower and fix yourself up. Not nearly enough time, you lamented, but you made it work.

Your dad, blessedly, was working late again. So you had the house to yourself as you played your music loudly and danced to the beat while you finished up your makeup.

Then around seven, a knock sounded at the front door. Wow, he’s actually on time.

You swallowed a small swell of nerves in your throat. Stop being silly, you told yourself. And you were careful in your heels on your way down the stairs. You checked yourself real quick in the mirror, just to make sure your hair and everything else was in place. Then you looked into the door’s peephole.

With a smile, you unlocked and opened the door. Dean was there to greet you with a familiar grin, and then his eyes went wide at the sight of you. You crossed your arms and leaned on the door frame.

“We’re all stocked up on Girl Scout cookies, thanks,” you teased. Dean’s grin kicked up into a smirk.

“I’m not here to sell you anything, sweetheart,” he said. His hot gaze took you in—from your softly curled hair to your dark red lipstick, to the black suede dress that clung to your every curve and fell to mid-thigh, and finally down to your scarlet red heels. Then his eyes traveled all the way back up to yours.

“But I’ll bet you could get me to sell my soul with just those heels,” he said.

Your brain stuttered to a halt. You couldn’t help but blush at the flirtatious depths in his voice, overlayed with a fine layer of charm. It didn’t take much for Dean to turn it on, but when he did, you could guess how many panty-dropping one liners he’d had in his arsenal before he met you.

And he’d cleaned up nicely himself. True to his word, he’d forgone his typical leather jacket (though you were fond of it) for a solid black jacket. He’d paired it with a charcoal gray button-down and some dark wash jeans. (You suspected that Sam had given some pointers for this ensemble.)

His familiar pendant still hung from his neck though, along with his mom’s ring on his right hand. He was still Dean, but he looked good enough to eat.

His smirk deepened, and you realized he’d likely heard that thought.

Damn it.

You hadn’t seen him in a long time, so you forgot you’d have to pull your thoughts back from the soul bond sometimes. Right now though, it was all you could do to stop from dragging him into the house and kissing him senseless.

Dean shook you out of your thoughts when his hands found the curve of your waist. You looked up at him, holding onto the edges of his jacket.

“Sam’s not joining us for dinner?” you asked innocently, while knowing full well he wasn’t. Dean leaned down to brush his lips against your cheek, down to your neck where he caught the pleasant, sexy scent of your perfume. He felt you shudder a bit at the sensation of his lips across your skin.

“Nope. It’s adults only tonight,” he said. Pressed against him as you were, you felt the reverberation of his voice in your chest. It was a very pleasant sensation that pooled warmth in your lower belly, and down between your legs.

Dean came back to your lips, letting his ghost over yours. He didn’t want to ruin that pretty red lipstick (but he also really, really did).

You played into it; your smile brushed against his lips while your fingers dragged down his chest. “Then, maybe you should take me…”

You shifted on your feet, letting your thigh graze between his legs. You felt his fingers dig into the small of your back, and you reached back to grab his hand and unwrap his arms from your body.

“…To this mystery restaurant,” you said. “‘Cause I’m really freakin’ hungry.”

You flashed him a smile and slipped between him and the front door. You tossed him your house keys so he could lock it. As you walked down the driveway toward the Impala, you felt his disbelief, a lance of annoyance, but also his amusement. And a hot flare of desire while he watched you walk away from him.

You crossed your arms again and leaned against the passenger door of the Impala while you waited for Dean. He locked the front door and returned to the Impala while pointing a finger at you.

“You play too much,” he said. Your smile deepened.

As it turned out, he didn’t take you to the most expensive restaurant in town, or just to the local diner either. It was a nice Columbian steakhouse that ended up being the perfect place for both of you: a cozy atmosphere with Latin music, a historically Columbian-owned restaurant, and an interesting culture of food for you to enjoy—and a series of revolving smoked meats for Dean.

You noticed though, that while your boyfriend was enthusiastic about the food, he still seemed off somehow. His smiles didn’t always meet his eyes, and while he looked great, he also looked tired. He didn’t have 100% of his usual swagger going on, and that was enough cause for concern. From what Sam had told you, Dean had been doing better in working through their father’s death.

“Dean.” You laid a hand on his knee while he put yet another cheese bun into his mouth. You earned his attention regardless. “You okay? You seem…I don’t know. Tired.”

He shook his head and thankfully answered after he swallowed. “Nah, just a long drive. What, you’re not having fun?”

You smiled. “No, I am. I just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all.”

Dean smiled back. “I’m good, baby.”

But you could tell he was hiding something—from the bond, and from you. You frowned at him.

“Dean, we’ve been over this,” you said in a quiet, but firm voice. “You don’t have to lie to me. Whatever it is, I can handle it. You can trust me.”

After a moment, Dean’s pleasant expression faded. A more genuine, rueful smile overtook his features. He took your hand from his knee and pressed it to his lips. He looked down for a few seconds, just thinking, and you gave him the time he needed to do it.

He appreciated that about you. Though you were a curious person by nature, and stubborn about it, in moments like this you never rushed him. You gave him room to breathe.

“Do you know what a djinn is?” he asked.

You blinked at him in curiosity. That wasn’t at all what you’d expected him to say.

“Yeah. I mean, djinn, genies—they’re all over Middle Eastern mythology,” you said, and with a more teasing smile, “And not just in Aladdin.”

Dean inclined his head. “Very good, Professor.”

“I’m guessing they’re real too?” you asked.

“Yeah, nasty sombitches,” he confirmed. He explained that with just one touch, a djinn could propel you into a fantasy of your own making. A dream world, where you can have the life you’ve always dreamed of—at the price of getting your blood sucked dry in the real world.

You grimaced. “Ech. Sounds like a party.”

“Yeah, it’s freakin’ Disneyland,” Dean quipped.

“I’m assuming you and Sam ran into a djinn?” you said.

Dean nodded. His gaze fell away from you as his thoughts drifted back to that world. That place where his family was more or less whole. Where his mom was still alive, and his family had never been sucked into hunting. Where Dean had met you while on a road trip with his dad and married you a year later. Where his little brother had become a lawyer and Dean a firefighter.

His father had died too soon in that world too, but it hadn’t been a gruesome, lonely death caused by a demon. The only real obstacle in that perfect world had been that he’d drifted away from his little brother. They didn’t have a great relationship in that world, but it wasn’t anything that they couldn’t overcome with a few beers and a couple of heart-to-hearts in the Impala.

But it hadn’t been real.

Dean explained all of this to you over dessert, and you listened with rapt attention. You felt all the emotions he couldn’t readily express.

“I saw what my life could’ve been like,” he admitted. “And I wanted it, more than anything.”

“But this is what’s real, and you chose it,” you said. “That’s what matters.”

Dean didn’t look convinced. You were grateful that he shared this with you, but you could also tell that this had been plaguing his mind. You also didn’t want him to have to wallow in it anymore. What you wanted was to help perk him up, or distract him somehow…

So when he dipped his spoon into the large chocolate brownie in front of him, you parried his spoon with yours and stole his scoop. He looked up at you with raised, incredulous brows.

“What just happened here?” he asked.

You shrugged, smiling as you licked your spoon clean. Dean’s lips pressed together, but in the name of keeping the night pleasant, he decided to let it go.

Once again, he delved into the brownie. And once again, you took his piece with your own spoon, even taking a bit of vanilla ice cream with it.

“This is really good,” you said, humming in delight. “You should try some.”

Dean quirked his head at you. He didn’t know whether to be irritated or amused.

“I’m tryin’,” he wryly replied. With a purposeful hand, he wielded his spoon and took a nice corner piece. Sure enough, your spoon came in to intercept him. But his left hand closed around your wrist. His gaze flicked up to yours.

“You’re playin’ with fire here, sweetheart,” he warned. You went for your glass of wine with your free hand and took a sip.

“Am I?” you asked. “I thought we agreed to share.”

He leaned in close, until there were mere inches between your faces. “I don’t share food.”

You took his challenge for what it was, and you leaned in until your lips were nearly brushing his.

“Fine,” you said. Then you sat back and sipped at your wine again. You seemed to have no further interest in dessert, so Dean nodded to himself and raised the corner piece of brownie to his lips.

Only to have you snatch his spoon from his hand and take the bite yourself. You washed it down with some water this time. While Dean sat back in shock, you offered him a smile.

“This’s a great place. We should definitely come back here,” you said.

For a moment, all Dean could do was stare at his damn-near empty plate. When he gathered himself, he looked over at you and smiled dangerously.

“Yeah, we should,” he agreed.

You finished your wine while Dean paid for the meal. He wouldn’t accept your money even though you offered to pay half. He asked you out, so he should pay, he reasoned. (He also ordered an extra brownie to-go.)

Anticipation ran down your spine the longer it took to get back to the car. You could feel his silent simmer, but also his patience. You knew he wasn’t going to let you get away with teasing him, but you also knew he was waiting for the right moment. Most likely when you two had some real privacy.

But before you could open the passenger side door of the Impala, Dean’s hand stopped you. You let him maneuver you around and press you against the door, and you held onto his jacket for balance. You grinned when he bent down and claimed your lips with his own, demanding, sensuous, and greedy.

You clung to his arms as he basically devoured you in the restaurant’s parking lot. His hands were hot on your hips, then kneading your butt, pulling you flush against him as your fingers curled into his hair.

You hadn’t taken Dean for a PDA kind of guy; he was very private about who knew you were together. But then again, it wasn’t too often that you two went out in public, considering this was the first proper date you and Dean had ever been on.

“You’re in so much trouble,” he said against your lips, but the effect was kind of lost when you could feel his amusement and searing desire. You giggled against him.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I can deal with that.”

He pinched your butt, making you yelp and tighten your hand in his hair on reflex. He groaned into your mouth.

“Take me home,” you said. Dean nodded, but he was reluctant to let go of you. Eventually he withdrew his hands and opened the passenger side door for you.

First, you smoothed down his jacket and wiped away some of the lipstick from his mouth and chin with your thumb. His charming, full-watt Dean grin was back, and it warmed you up from the inside out.

That night, in your bed, you and Dean made up for months of separation. You were starved for his touch, and Dean realized that with no small measure of guilt.

He tried to focus on being here with you, but in the back of his mind, he still felt like he was somehow taking something from you when he made love to you. Like that hit and run you once accused him of.

This is what Dad warned me about, he couldn’t help but think.

You both laid on your bed together afterwards, dewy with sweat and a hand on your chest to calm your racing heart. But as great as it had been for you, you knew that Dean was distracted again.

The moment you heard him think about his father, it brought you back to that day in the hospital.

“I’m sorry I told you not to go after her a few years ago,” John had said.

But why? You sat up against the headboard, bringing the sheets up to cover yourself. Meanwhile, Dean was coming back from freshening up in the bathroom. He then started tinkering with your iPod and speaker on your nightstand. But he frowned while scrolling through most of the songs.

Ugh. Avril Lavigne. Really? You heard him think to himself. A smile threatened to curve your lips as he continued to grumble at your playlist. But eventually he settled on “Going to California” by Led Zeppelin. That was neutral ground you could both agree on.

“Dean,” you found yourself saying, before you could think about it. He joined you back in bed, sitting beside you.

“When I was fourteen, I remember it snowed the day of my mom’s funeral,” you continued. “I was standing there in the cemetery when it started. I was…well, a wreck. I looked up at the flurries, and I heard something.”

It’s not fair!

“I didn’t realize it then, but I think I was hearing you for the first time.” You looked over at Dean, and he met your gaze.

“Sam and I were carted off to Bobby’s a few times when we were kids,” he admitted. “It’s possible.”

You gathered your courage, and you asked the question you had been holding onto for almost a year.

“Did you ever…hear me? Before last year.”

Dean sensed that this was a leading question. You already knew something, or at least thought you did. He sighed.

You sat up straighter and faced him.

“Talk to me,” you implored. Dean hesitated, but after a moment, he answered.

“It was around seven…eight years ago now. I was working a case with my dad near your school. That university.”

You thought back, and it must’ve been when you were getting your bachelor’s degree. Dean explained that he was about twenty-three, making you twenty at the time. And he started to feel you, hear you. It freaked him the hell out.

“A killer dog nearly took my head off because…anyway, the point is, I figured out what it was,” he said.

“But you left,” you said, both hurt and angry. “Why the hell didn’t you reach out to me?”

“My dad told me something,” Dean said. “He said I shouldn’t bring you into my life if I couldn’t hang up my gun. You know what…he was right.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. “How can you say that?”

“Look at what’s happening,” he said. “I’m on the road with Sam tryin’ to hunt this demon, pulling you away from your job with research, dragging you out in the middle of the night because I’m on death’s door. It’s enough!”

You didn’t like the sharpness in his tone, or the stubborn look in his eyes. That was another thing you’d learned about Dean. When he got an idea of something in his head, a conviction, he wasn’t going to let it go in a hurry.

Too frustrated to remain in bed, Dean got up and started dressing. You watched him put on his underwear and jeans in disbelief. But you stole his gray dress shirt before he could put it on. He wasn’t about to leave you like this.

So you put on the shirt yourself and stood in his way.

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” he told you.

“Who says?” you challenged. “We’re doing what works for us.”

“That’s my point. It’s not working. And it’s not fair to you.”

“When have I ever asked for fair?” You wanted to know. You had never complained, never asked anything of him except for two things: to keep in touch with you, and not to lie to you.

“This WiFi connection goes both ways, remember?” he countered. “You can try hiding it all you want, but you hate this long-distance crap. Pretty soon you’re gonna start hating me…and shit. I wouldn’t blame you.”

You didn’t know what to make of that resigned look on his face, but it struck at your heart.

You hefted a sharp sigh. “Didn’t you say that this was just temporary? That after you and Sam killed the Yellow Eyed demon, then you could come home?”

“It took Dad our whole lives just to track Yellow Eyes down,” Dean said. “Then it killed him.”

So he was saying this could take his whole life too. Part of you knew that, but you didn’t want to accept the reality that you could be living half a life with him forever.

You didn’t realize it then, but Dean took your silence as a sign.

“Look, I get it,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not like we can just…cut the cord here. But I’d understand if you don’t want to keep doing this.”

For a moment, you stared at him uncomprehendingly. But if he’d just taken half a second to look at your face—to read the truth in your roiling emotions, he wouldn’t have kept running his mouth.

“Truth is, you deserve better than what I got to give,” he said. His hand raised to card through his hair, an anxious gesture. You knew in the way his eyes shifted away.

A tremor of disbelief and dismay coursed through you.

What he had to give.

A man who'd first offered his protection while barely even knowing you. Who comforted you when you needed him, and celebrated your achievements instead of belittling them. Who believed in you when you told him about working yourself up at the museum. Who empowered you to hold your ground, and speak up for yourself.

A man who'd rather be alone than keep hurting you.

“Baby,” you tried, grasping his arm. Still, he didn’t quite meet your gaze.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said.

You pushed him back with both hands on his bare chest when he tried to get around you. “Stop!”

He said your name in a sharp warning. You shook your head stubbornly.

“Do you want me out of your life?” you asked. “Is that really what you want?”

Dean finally looked down at you, his mouth pressed in a firm line, his brows crunched over his eyes…but he couldn’t answer you.

“Then stop it!” you said. “Just fucking stop it. I’m tired of hearing you think that you’re not good enough.”

Dean’s expression slackened.

“Stop lying to yourself,” you said sternly. “I don’t care what you think I want. Whatever ‘together’ means for us is what we’re going to do. Because you are worth it.”

That was your conviction. He'd been fighting for his family his entire life. And now for you, in a way. So the least you could do was fight for him.

“Yeah, it’s really fucking hard right now. On both of us,” you said with a nod. “But if you think I’m going to let go just because of that, then you don’t know me at all yet, Dean.”

Your frown solidified into a look of determination.

“But goddamn it, you’re gonna learn.”

His mouth fell open a bit, and his soft surprise gave way to shock when you rocked forward, taking his face between your hands. He accepted your hard kiss, the uncharacteristic way you demanded from him, claimed his lips and his tongue, and the frustrated pace of removing each other’s clothes again.

For once, you took control and pushed Dean down to the bed. He let you do it too. It was an electrifying turn on—to have your hands be firm instead of gentle, but still purposeful in how you touched him.

And you did. You straddled his lap, and between fierce kisses, you mapped out his body with your hands. He held you by your hips, but you soon pushed him down onto the bed. With wet, nipping kisses, you burned a path from his neck, down his chest and sternum, down the defined “V” between his hips.

His breathing deepened the further you went, because Christ had it been a long time since anyone but himself had touched him. He supposed you weren’t the only one starving.

Your lips grazed and nipped the inside of his thigh, getting ever closer to where you knew he wanted you. His hand raised to tangle in your hair, but you moved his hand away and trapped it onto the bed. Your challenging gaze met his, and Dean raised his brows.

No touching, unless I say so, you said through the bond. A smirk raised the corner of his lips.

Yes, ma’am, he replied, making you smile. You then renewed your attention to the task at hand. You settled between his legs lowered down, where the object of your focus was standing perfectly at attention. You let your lips graze his dick. Careful touches, and really, a bit teasing. Dean sucked in a breath when your hands joined your lips, just soft caresses along its length, underneath, over its sensitive head. It was both exactly what he wanted and nowhere near enough.

His hand fisted into the pillow behind his head and the comforter underneath him. Your name fell from his lips—both a prayer and a plea. He felt the shape of your smile in a kiss, pressed against his thigh.

I’ve got you, baby, you said. Finally, your lips descended on him and you took as much of his dick as you could into your mouth. Something between a moan and a grunt fell from Dean’s lips as you worked him over, with your hands joining your warm, wet mouth. He itched to touch you, but you were relentless and held his wrist down onto the bed.

With his free hand, he grabbed onto the headboard as his back arched involuntarily, but there was nowhere to go. You had him trapped, and he was exactly where he wanted to be.

But just when he felt that crest of pleasure nearing and thought he was going to see black on the edges of his vision, you let him go with a soft pop. You leaned your arms on his raised knees and wiped your mouth. You looked down at his incredulous face with a mischievous little smile.

Dean made a sound of both shock and frustration as he tried to catch his breath. His head hit the pillow while his hand went to his wildly beating heart.

“Well, that’s just rude,” he uttered. When he was able to speak, that is. You stifled a laugh and moved up to cover that hand on his chest with yours. He flinched, but you were able to offer apologetic kisses. He reluctantly accepted them.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you whispered against his lips. You took his hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of his palm, then brought it to your cheek. Despite the playful, annoyed suspicion in his eyes, he stroked your cheek with affection. He saw your game, and he begrudgingly admired it—and you.

Smiling, you sat back on his bare thighs and brought both of his hands to your body, grazing down your neck to cup your breasts. You sighed as his thumbs brushed over your pert nipples and kneaded the soft flesh.

“Is this for me, or for you?” he teased. You shot him a playful glare. For that, you lowered his hands further down your body and guided his hand to the very wet folds between your legs.

“I’m letting you touch me now,” was your cheeky reply.

Dean smirked, but he sat up and obliged, gathering your wetness with his fingers and stroking your clit with deliberate movements. You shuddered a breath as he slipped a long finger inside you, followed closely by another. All the while, his thumb drew wet circles around your sensitive clit and brought you to the edge of your release.

From that very first night together so long ago, he’d been learning how to play you like a five-string guitar. Tonight was no different, and despite how you’d edged him earlier, he had no qualms about making you come all over his hand.

Your fingers delved into his hair, and you mentally praised him while you caught your breath, resting your forehead on his shoulder. He held you to him as you shook. But after a few moments, he leaned back to look into your eyes.

Through your connection, you felt his playfulness grow and you just knew he was about to say something smartass. But right now, you were still in control. So you stopped his smart mouth with yours and claimed his lips with another deep kiss.

You slipped a hand between your bodies, and this time you took a firmer hold of his dick. It was still a bit wet from your earlier treatment, and you stroked him a few times. His grateful moans sounded in your ear as he gripped your arms tight. You closed your eyes for a second, inwardly preparing yourself, before you sheathed him inside you. You both breathed hard as you adjusted and settled on top of him.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair. “Fuck, baby—”

You nodded, soothing down his back. “I know. Damn, you feel so good.”

You pushed him back down again so you could find the right angle that would serve both of you. Then you started to move over him. Dean dropped his head hard against the bed. To help him out, you gave him something to grab onto and guided his hand to your hip. He squeezed the flesh there, hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises later, you were sure. But the brief pain was a good motivator—it let you know when he was close to his breaking point.

You reached down with your fingers to further part your folds and rub hot circles around your already sensitive clit again. You felt a flutter in your lower belly as that familiar, inexplicable thread of energy within you stuttered; the part of your soul that recognized its equal, its match. The bond hummed and grew hot and pulsing.

Finally, its warmth washed over you.

You gasped and grabbed ahold of Dean’s arms as you almost got lightheaded at the feeling. Dean was going through the same tumble of sensations as he uttered a strangled sound, spilling inside you.

But he had good reflexes; he steadied you, with his arms wrapping around your frame and holding you to him. He eased you over back onto the bed, and then slid out of you.

For a little while, neither of you spoke. The frenzy of your earlier argument had fueled what just happened, but now that tension had dissolved into a hard-won peace.

When he was able to move, Dean reached out to hold the side of your face. He tucked a loose, sweaty strand of hair behind your ear. Your smile for him was soft. You sensed he was thinking, searching for what he wanted to say. So again, you waited, slipping a discarded blanket over your naked body.

“Okay, I think I hear you,” Dean said. “I love you, you know that?”

Your smile grew. He’d repeated the words you confessed to him when he was in the hospital all those months ago. And it was the first time he’d said what he felt for you.

You held a hand by your ear. “What was that?”

Dean’s lips raised into a smirk, but his eyes were soft. He slid an arm underneath you to pull you against his side.

“I love you,” he said, “so damn much.”

“I love you too,” you replied, but not without some exasperation. All this craziness, just to finally get on the same page. You grabbed his face with one hand and squeezed his cheeks. “That's my point.”

You made a sound of frustration before you released him. Dean laughed a bit, closing his eyes. You enjoyed his more carefree smile as you rested against his chest.

This man, you thought, is damn lucky he’s adorable.

He cut into your thoughts dryly, Pretty sure that’s my line, sweetheart.

You rolled your eyes.

At least we made it through our first real fight, you said. In spectacular fashion, I might add.

Yeah, but you played dirty, said Dean.

You just smiled.

The next morning, you and Dean woke up after your dad had presumably left for work. You were grateful. It spared you from the awkwardness of a “morning after” in your father’s presence.

I really need to get my own place.

So you made coffee while Dean made some toast and eggs for breakfast. But he got a call just as he was plating the eggs.

“Yeah, Bobby,” he answered. The more your uncle spoke, the more serious Dean’s expression got. You sensed a flare of his panic and you turned to him in concern. The plate in his hand hit the table with a clatter.

“Where?” Dean said. His tone was sharp and worried. “I’m comin’ now.”

Dean ended the call and abandoned the food to grab his jacket. He explained before you could ask the predictable question.

“Sam went missing this morning on a coffee run,” Dean said. “When Bobby got to the diner to check on him, the whole place had been cleared out, except for the bodies of the brunch crowd.”

You gasped and raised a hand to your mouth in shock. “What happened to Sam?”

Dean’s face became grim and angry as he grabbed his wallet and keys.

“Bobby found sulfur all over the place. He thinks Yellow Eyes took him,” he said. “…I’ve gotta go.”

It was late fall, so you grabbed a coat from the rack and your purse. “I’m going with you.”

Dean halted at the doorway, and that stopped you short behind him. He turned around and gave you a firm look.

“No you’re not, damn it!” he said. “You’re staying here.”

“Are you kidding me?” you said. “The last time you faced this thing, it almost killed you!”

“You’ve got a job, remember?” he pointed out. You shook your head.

“It’s Saturday. I don’t have to be back to work until Monday, upon which I’ll take a couple of sick days if I need to.” Your words were both a warning and a promise. “Just let me help you find Sam. I’m handy with research. You know I can help!”

Dean didn’t like it. He had half a mind to keep arguing with you, but he really didn’t have time for this. He made a sound of aggravation and rubbed a hand over his face.

He then levied a finger at you. “You’re staying in the car. When we get there, you don’t argue with me. You do as I say, got it?”

You nodded. Normally you would take issue with being ordered by your boyfriend, but in the world of dark and evil things, you would follow Dean’s lead.

So you hid a triumphant smile as you locked up your house, then followed him to the Impala.

AN: Whew! Well, then lol. The reader finally gave Dean a piece of her mind (among other things). How'd you like their first date? 😉

Dean definitely gives me Joey vibes from Friends when it comes to sharing food. 😂

But as the chapter title implies, we also dug in a bit on how Dean sees himself vs. how his soulmate sees him.

So a lot of drama this time, but ending on another good ol' cliffhanger. AKA: Where the hell is Sam?

Next up, some action! Heading into 2.21: All Hell Breaks Loose (Pt. 1).

To keep reading: PART 11

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

@curlycarley @buckywenal24 @jamerlynn @iprobablyshipit91 @globetrotter28 @deamus-liv @irgendwas122 @deans-spinster-witch @dogbarkbark4445 @my-proof-is-you @vera0124 @deans-baby-momma @lacilou @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @theonlymaninthesky @spnexploration @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @imagineteller1 @icequeen1371 @tiredqueen73 @bitchwitch1981 @abbigaleelizabeth @ohgodthebogisback @where-the-river-bends @loveprof6 @shadowcrowsworld @thespnlover @this-is-me19 @stevenknightmarc @leigh70 @pallographsunspot @syrma-sensei

#What is and what should never be #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #spn season 2 #dean winchester x soulmate!reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean x female reader #spn #spn fanfic #soulmate au #sam winchester #bobby singer #john winchester #2.20 #zepskies writes

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bluelikesad · 1 month

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Aahh I love that you're drawing the spn ladies, I love them so much <333 Could you draw Carmen from 2x20? Thanks!!

Carmen Porter

[if anyone wants to support me ☕]

It was a little hard to draw her, I hope you like it. Thanks for the request <3

Requests still open, please don't repost

#my art #carmen porter #spn #spn fanart #fanart #supernatural #supernatural art #supernatural fanart #art #spn art #spn ladies #What Is And What Should Never Be #spn 2x20

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tongjingnian · 9 months

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There are things that we never talk about and we'll never say out loud. But it's between us, and you and i both know what we mean when we are saying it.

#wincest #dean winchester #sam winchester #sam and dean #supernatural #2×20 #what is and what should never be #← this is the name of the episode #don't get me wrong #🙃#why would you repost me if you are anti-wincest #didn't i tag it as wincest?#subtext #between sam and dean

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devilat-thedoor · 7 months

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What Is and What Should Never Be Ch. 3

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI(slight DubCon, Oral[m rec] Kinda Public, Degradation, Breath Play), Toxic themes(Posessiveness, Manipulation, Arguing, Jealousy) Reader Discretion Advised.

Oh my stomach’s tied in knots, I’m afraid of what I’ll find if you and I talk tonight // The problem isn’t you, it’s me, I know. I’ve seen it time after time and I’ll push you away. I get so afraid

“I wish you would’ve let me pay.” You pushed through the door of the small café and out onto the sidewalk, “I look like an idiot in these…” You whispered as you tugged on the waistband of the sweats, pulling them up.

Jake had his hand on your back, leading you back to his car, “I think they look great on you.” He pulled the passenger door open, sliding his hand to your hip to guide you into the seat, “If they weren’t my favorite sweatpants, I might’ve let you keep them.”

He closed the door and you watched him walk around to his side and climb in, “So what do you usually do for your birthday? Any special plans?” You folded your hands in your lap, trying to initiate small talk, “Oh! I should text Josh.” You pulled your phone out to type a quick message to him.

You 12:14am: Happy birthday, boss! have the best day❤️

After hitting the send button, you questioned whether the heart was too much. You caught Jake glancing at you from his peripheral just as his twin’s response came through.

Josh 12:16am: A happy birthday text from you? My day is already off to a great start! Thank you, Y/N!

“Why are you smiling like you have a school girl crush on him?” The car stopped at a red light when Jake spoke up, “Or is it just the attention that you like?” There was a hint of disdain in his voice.

You looked up at him, brows pinched, “Why do you have to be such an asshole all the time?” Locking your phone, you dropped it into your lap without replying to Josh, “Can you just let me out? My apartment isn’t that far, I’ll walk.” You unlatched your seat belt just as the car started moving again.

“Put it back on.” His eyes stayed trained on the road ahead.

You released a huff, “Jake, pull the c-“

“Put the fucking seatbelt back on, Y/N!” His grip on the steering wheel tightened, turning his knuckles white. He took a deep breath, softening his tone, “Can you just put it on, please? I’ll take you straight home, just put it back on.”

Rolling your eyes, you did as he asked, “Turn left onto 16th. My building will be about 3 blocks down.” It was the only thing you said before shifting your whole body to face away from him. You remained silent through the rest of the drive, only speaking up to let him know which building was yours.

He pulled into a spot on the curb and put the car in park, “Pea-” You were already out of the car and slamming the door shut before he could get a word in and he didn’t like that. You heard him get out as well, his footsteps heavy on the pavement as he followed you, “Y/N.” It was stern, but you refused to turn around. You dug through your small bag for the keys, until you remembered Bellamy had them. You stopped on the sidewalk, unlocking your phone to call her when Jake was suddenly in front of you, “How do you fucking do it?”

“Excuse me?” You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You get under my skin so fucking easily. How? How do you know exactly which buttons to press to piss me off?” He was visibly angry, but there was something else, another emotion, that you couldn’t place.

“You’re joking, right? Jake, I can’t keep up with you anymore.” You shook your head with a laugh, “You’re such a fucking narcissist… I’m getting under your skin? All you’ve done since the day I met you is force me into this twisted fucking game of ‘Which Jake is it Anyway?’” You rubbed a hand over your face, genuinely feeling like you were going insane, “You can be so sweet, Jake. So fucking sweet to a point where I think I might actually like you… And then at the speed of light, you flip into this cocky, arrogant bastard that I just want to fucking strangle!” You were yelling now, gathering the attention of people on the street.

“Peach.” His mouth curled into a smirk and you felt your blood start to boil.

Your jaw was clenched hard as you held back a frustrated scream, “God, give me the fucking strength…” You stared up at the sky, fighting the urge to slap him, “My daddy raised me better than this, I can’t-“

Jake interrupted you, “Just shut up for a second.” Just as you dropped your gaze on him, opening your mouth to cuss him out, he moved forward, “Shut the fuck up, peach.” His hands were cupping your face, lips smashing against your own in a hungry kiss. Before you could process anything, your hands were grasping at him, tugging him closer by his shirt. One of his hands went to your back, pulling your body against his until your chests were pressed together. His tongue flicked at your bottom lip, begging to be let in, and you surrendered, parting your lips and letting your tongue fight with his.

You'd forgotten that you were still standing outside until your phone started ringing in your hand. You broke away from Jake, trying to catch a breath, and looked down at your phone to see Bellamy’s picture across the screen. You tried to compose yourself the best you could, but you knew the minute you answered, she’d suspect something was up. Glancing at Jake, you hit the green button and turned away from him, “Hello…”

Y/N, what the hell? You never let me know if you made it home last night!

“Uhhh…because I didn’t make it home, you took the keys. Where are you?”

Where are you?

“I’m standing outside the building with no way to get into the apartment, Bell. Where. Are. You?”

I’m close… Were you out for a jog? Why are you breathing so heavy?

Where did you stay last night, sweet pea?

“Can you just hurry up? I need a shower.” You hung up before she could continue her interrogation. “Why did you do that?” Your hands were shaking as you turned back to Jake, “Do you get off on playing these games with me, Jake?” Your voice was quiet, your eyes trained on the cement below you.

You could hear the smile in his tone without having to look at him, “If you’d let me play with you, I’d definitely get off…” He let out a chuckle as you threw your head back with a sigh, “I’m kidding. Hey…” He grabbed your waist, pulling you back into him, “The games wouldn’t be as fun with anyone else and I think you feel the same way.” He caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing your eyes to his, “You love it just as much as I do. Admit it.” His lips were hovering just millimeters from yours and you waited for him to connect them again, your body was begging for it. Jake’s eyes raked over you, his infamous smirk playing on his mouth, “You love it. I can see it in the uneven breaths you're taking. The way you keep staring at my mouth.” He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, proving his point as your eyes darted back and forth to follow it, “I bet you don’t even realize you’re clenching your thighs, peach.” The tip of his nose brushed against yours and your eyes began to flutter.

A car door slammed, followed by someone clearing their throat, “What’s going on, sweet pea?” You and Jake both turned at the same time, breaking contact from one another, to see Bellamy. She was standing on the curb, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, “Which one is this?”

“Jake?” The voice came from the car she’d just stepped out of. You looked past her to see the twins' younger brother emerging from the driver’s side. His eyes flashed to you, “Y/N? What is going on?”

“Bell, you went home with Sam last night?” You turned the inquisition on your best friend.

She looked from you to Sam, then Jake and back to you, “How do you know him? Wait, Sam, how do you know them?” She turned to him, pointing towards you and Jake.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. It felt like you were trapped in a mediocre rom-com, “Can we go inside, please?” You hooked your arm with Bell’s and pulled her towards the building, “We’ll talk inside, B.” She stole a single glance at the boys as you left them on the sidewalk and went through the door.

“Okay, what the fuck just happened?” Bellamy pulled the key from the apartment door and closed it, “I’m so lost…”

You fell into a fit of laughter again, “Bitch…Sam is Josh and Jake’s younger brother!” You kicked your shoes off and walked into the living room, throwing yourself down on the couch, “Did you fuck him?”

She came over, dropping down beside you with a giant grin plastered on her face, “It was really good, babe… Like, mind blowing.” She laid down, stretching across the cushions, and put her head in your lap, “He went down on me… Y/N, I came in like a minute flat…twice” You waited for her to keep going, but she sat up, turning to face you, “These aren’t your clothes… I’m not the only one who got laid last night.”

“No, they are not and no I did not.” You stared down at Jake’s t-shirt covering your torso, “He saw me at the bar last night and I was a little too drunk, I guess. He tried to call me a ride to get me home but I passed out… Not that I would’ve been able to get in here anyways. He said he wasn’t gonna leave me there alone, so he took me back to his place, gave me his bed and slept on the couch.” You stood up, walking towards your bathroom.

Bellamy popped her head in just as you turned the shower on, “If you guys didn’t hook up, what was going on when I pulled up?” She came in and hoisted herself to sit on the sink as you pulled the shirt over your head, “It definitely looked like something.”

“I don’t know. That’s the thing, Bell… I never know what’s going on with him.” You slid the pants down before stepping into the shower and pulling the curtain shut, “One minute, he’s making these comments or yelling at me or…just being a dickhead. Then the next, he’s taking care of me while I’m drunk, taking me for breakfast on his birthday.” You stood under the stream of water, letting it cascade over your head and down your body, “He kissed me out there, B. And not just a peck. It was like an explosive kiss. The kind you get completely lost in and I didn’t want it to end.” Your phone chimed on the sink top where you left it and your friend was quick to check the notification.

“Well, shit.” She scoffed and you heard her feet hit the floor as she hopped off the counter, “I don’t think he wanted it to end either, babe.” She pulled the curtain back, holding your phone in front of her face as she read the text aloud, “‘I wanna pick you up tonight for a drink. Having dinner with my brothers at 6. I’ll get you at 8, peach.’ Is he always that assertive?”

You pulled the curtain shut to rinse your hair and hide the giddy smile that formed on your face, “He is. It’s one of things that irritates me the most.” You bit your lip, already thinking of what you would wear, “Do you think it’s a bad idea?” You cut the water off and flung the curtain back to grab your towel.

Bellamy moved aside as you went to the sink to brush your teeth, “Do you like him?” She paused for a beat, “I’m only asking because the way you talk about Josh… It seems like you’re into him. But when you talk about Jake, it’s usually to complain about him… I’m just a little confused, babe.”

Spitting the foam from your mouth, you rinsed the toothbrush, “I don’t know… I do like Josh. But maybe I like Jake too… What do I do, Bell?” You gathered Jake’s clothes from the floor and stalked out of the bathroom and into your bedroom, falling across the bed with a deep groan.

She stood in the doorway and tossed your phone to the bed beside you, “I say…have fun. We’re just getting our bearings in a new city. There’s no reason to choose between one or the other… Go out with Jake tonight, see where it goes.” She disappeared without another word and you heard her bedroom door click shut.

Picking the phone up, you opened the text thread with Jake to type out a reply.

You 1:23pm: What happens if you show up and I don’t come outside?

His response came almost immediately, as if he were waiting for your text.

Jake 1:24pm: You’ll be outside. I’m not worried about it.

Jake 1:24pm: 8 sharp. Don’t wear the sweatpants.

You dropped your phone and stood up, trudging to your dresser for a pair of lounge shorts and a t-shirt. After throwing the clothes on, you climbed back into bed and clicked the TV on, choosing a Netflix doc about Robert Johnson’s alleged crossroads deal. Halfway through, you headed to the kitchen for a snack, only to crawl back under your blankets and fall asleep.

💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿💿

“You broke out the slutty lace panties.” Bellamy was sitting on your bed, watching you dig through the closet in your underwear and tee, “You’re definitely planning on getting dick tonight.”

She woke you up from your nap and dragged you into the kitchen to eat the take out she’d ordered and then helped you with your hair while you put on some light makeup. Now, you were sifting through hangers, trying to decide what to wear with no indication of where you were actually going for this ‘drink.’ Ignoring her observation, you poked your head around the closet doorway, “Should I just do jeans and a cute top? Or maybe like, a casual dress?” You held up one hanger with a short, flowy sundress with spaghetti straps and a delicate floral pattern.

“Not that dress.” She stood up and waltzed by you, into the closet, “Wear those tight, light wash blue jeans. You know, the ones that really lift your ass.” She held her hands up, making grabbing gestures, “And…Oooh yes!” Your friend lunged for something, ripping it from the hanger, “This is my favorite top, you don’t wear it enough.” She tossed the garment at you.

It was a baby pink, bustier style top, embroidered with tiny flowers over the front, “This is way too much, B. He’s probably taking me to some dive bar for a beer.” You walked out of the closet to stand in front of your mirror, holding the top up to your body, “It is cute though…”

She came out after you, throwing the pair of jeans at you, “Try it on. You’ll be sold, I know it.”

After a few seconds of contemplation, you finally pulled your t-shirt off and replaced it with the pink top then tugged the jeans on, giving a little hop to hoist them up around your thighs. You fastened the button and zipper before adjusting your breasts in the cups of the top, “Okay, you’re right.” You took a step back to get a full view of yourself, “I look hot as hell.”

Your best friend stood behind you, fluffing out your loose waves, “You do look hot. Shit, babe…if he doesn’t fuck you, I will.” She hooked her chin over your shoulder, gazing at your reflection, “Strap-on and all.” Her mouth lifted into a grin as you both erupted into giggles.

“Bellamy! Too far, babe!” You turned around to face her as she continued cackling, “Go away! I have 15 minutes left before I need to be downstairs.” You shoved her towards the door.

“Have fun, sweet pea!” She yelled as you pushed the door shut, “And my offer still stands!” You could hear her laughing all the way back to her room until she closed her door.

You went back to the closet, slipping on a pair of clean white vans, before gathering your things and heading out. As you rode the elevator down to the lobby, you expected a text from Jake to let you know if he was on his way, but nothing came. It was 7:50 when you stepped outside. Time ticked by slowly and you almost thought he was blowing you off until it hit 8 on the dot and his car was pulling up to the curb. You bit back a smile as he climbed out, coming around to greet you, “A minute later and I would’ve been back upstairs in my bed.”

“I told you eight sharp, didn’t I?” He grabbed your hand, holding it up to get a look at your outfit. You took note of how his eyes lingered on your chest before he brought your hand to lips with a quick peck, “You ready?”

“Well, I’m standing here, aren’t I?”

Jake shook his head as he pulled you towards the car, “You just love to run that pretty little mouth, don’t you?” He opened the door and watched you slip in as you gave him a mischievous smirk.

The drive to the bar was barely 20 minutes long and Jake was already rushing around to open your door for you. He led you through an ominous door, his hand never leaving your back. As you walked down the steps into the small barroom, you were surprised at the combined tiki and nautical theme, “Did you bring me to a pirate bar?” Your eyes wandered, taking in the ropes tied around the rafters and the colorful, net-covered lights littering the ceiling.

“Sit, Y/N.” He pulled a stool out for you to sit on, “Smuggler’s Cove is one of my favorite places to get a drink. Here.” He took the stool next to you and slid a menu in front of you.

You perused the menu, an overwhelming amount of cocktails, most rum based with a few exceptions, “These all sound so good…”

“Try a few. Most of them are good.” His eyes were on you as you studied the menu.

“Uhh…actually…” You turned on your seat to face him, “Would you be upset if I only ordered one drink? Well, only one with alcohol.” You clarified, afraid that he might think you didn’t want to be here with him, “I just have this personal rule when it comes to drinking and normally, after last night, I wouldn’t even consider picking up alcohol for at least a week… But I made a tiny exception for you.”

He brought his hand up to his chin, stroking it with his fingers, “A rule? Can I ask why?”

You looked down at your hands as you twisted your fingers together in your lap, “Story for another day, maybe?” You weren’t about to open up about the part alcohol played in the worst parts of your life, “I think I know what I want, though.” You slid the menu back to him, pointing to your drink of choice. A cocktail with rum, fresh pineapple and lime, passionfruit and honey.

He signaled to the bartender, “She’ll have a Kona cocktail and I’ll have the Bourbon Special.” The man went about mixing your drinks up, finishing yours first and then Jake’s, before moving onto the next customer. Jake stood from his stool, “Let’s grab a table.” He held his hand out for you and you took it, grabbing your drink and following him.

You pulled your hand from his to sit at the small table in a back corner and finally took a sip of your drink, “Mmm.” Your eyes fell shut as you licked the sweet, fruity juice from your lips, “That is phenomenal.”

“Don’t make those noises…” His voice was barely a whisper.

Opening your eyes, you brought the cup to your lips again, swallowing the liquid slowly, with a delighted groan, “I don’t know what you mean, Jake.” If he liked the games so much, you were more than willing to play.

He shook his head, looking away from you as he sipped his own drink, “Don’t play dumb, peach. It’s not a good look on you.” He dragged his gaze back to you with a sinister smirk on his lips, “And before you part those lips to make one of your snarky comments…know that I’ve been itching to put that mouth to better use.” He chugged the rest of his drink in a flash, placing the cup on the table, “Just give me a reason.”

You sat up straight, crossing your right leg over the left to combat the sudden pooling in your panties, and flashed him a smirk of your own, “Is that supposed to be a threat, babe?” You held your hands up in mock fear, “Oooh… I’m shakin’ in my boots.” A soft giggle crept out as you took another gulp of your cocktail, but Jake didn’t seem to share your amusement. He dug his wallet from his pocket, dropping two 20 dollar bills on the table, and stood up. Before you could ask him what he was doing, he turned around and headed up the steps that led out of the bar. You sat for a minute, waiting for him to come back, but he never did. Well shit… Pulling his money from the tabletop, you tucked it into your pocket and went to the bar to pay for the drinks with your card. You were sure that Jake had left you, so you unlocked your phone as you walked up the stairs, texting your best friend.

You 8:49pm: You might have to come get me🙄

Pushing through the door and out onto the sidewalk, her response came.

Bell🤞 8:50pm: Why? What happened????

“Thought I was gonna have to come down and carry you out…”

Your head snapped up at the sound of his voice to find Jake, leaning against his car, “Are you fucking- Here.” You dug his cash from your pocket, stomping towards him, and shoved it into his hand. Turning away, you started down the sidewalk, unsure of where you were going as you typed another text to your friend.

“You gonna walk home, peach?” He was taunting you, “Naah, you’re not gonna walk home… You just love to make that ass shake for me. That’s why you’re always walking away from me, isn’t it? Look at you, swaying those hips.” His laugh echoed through the street.

You stopped in your tracks, “You’re a fucking prick.” Spinning around, you stalked back to him, pointing your finger in his face, “Yanno, you really love to run your mouth too, Jake. An awful lot, actually.” You shrugged your shoulders with an evil smirk, “Can’t help but think you might be overcompensating for something.” You let your eyes flick down to let him know what you were implying, “Maybe that’s why Josh is so happy all the time…” You pouted your lip as you looked back up at him, “Did dear brother get all the blessings in the womb, Jakey?”

His laughter died down, but he still had that arrogant smile, completely unphased by your implication, “Tell me, Y/N…” He took a step closer, his face inches from yours as he grabbed your hand, “Do you think I’m overcompensating?” He pressed your palm over the front of his jeans, squeezing it around the prominent bulge. Jake’s eyes stayed locked with yours, “What’s the verdict, peach?” He dropped his hand but yours remained in place, causing his smile to grow, “You wanna get in the car?” He reached behind him, pulling the handle on the passenger door.

A slew of laughter came from a group of people barreling out of the bar door and you retracted your hand, taking a step away from him, “Yeah…yeah, okay.” You swallowed hard as he moved out of the way and let you slide into the seat, “Are we going to your place?” You watched him settle into his seat and start the car.

“Do you wanna go to my place?” The look on his face said he already knew the answer but when you stayed quiet, he persisted, “If it’s what you want, I need you to say it. This is in your hands, Y/N.”

Your legs were bouncing with anticipation, “I want to, Jake.”

His lip curled and then it was minutes before he was pulling into the parking garage for his building. He put the car in park and shut it off, climbing out. He barely had your door opened before you were flying out of the seat and into him, crashing your lips with his as you grabbed at him. His hands went to your waist as he backed you up to the car, pressing his body against yours. You could feel his erection digging into your hip and you pulled him closer, adding pressure to it, “Peach…” He broke away from the kiss and your lips immediately went to his jaw, working down the length of his neck, as you dropped your hand to palm him again, “Christ…” His breathing picked up as you sucked at his skin and squeezed him through his jeans.

“Thought you wanted to put my mouth to better use?” Your provocation lit a fire in his eyes and suddenly, he was grasping your hand and yanking you in front of his car, out of view from anyone who might pass by.

“Knees.” He was popping with the button on his jeans, “Now, Y/N. Knees.” He waited for you to kneel on the concrete below him before pulling himself from his pants, “I’ve been fucking dying for this since the first day you came into my store.” Jake reached down, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip. Your eyes stayed trained on his length. Definitely not overcompensating. He slid his thumb into your mouth, resting the pad on your tongue, and you closed your lips around it, sucking on it, “Eyes on me.” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and you let your eyes travel up to meet his, “You gonna let me fuck this smart mouth, baby?” The new pet name turned you to putty and all you could manage was a slight nod as you brought a hand up to grasp his cock, stroking it slowly while maintaining eye contact. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and watched as you leaned forward, rolling your tongue over his tip with a moan. He gathered your hair, knotting it around his fist, “Look at you… On your knees like a fucking whore. Open up.” You did as you were told, letting your jaw hang slack. He yanked on your hair, forcing you to tilt your head back, and leaned over you, allowing a string of spit to drip from his lips and coat your tongue. Jake straightened back up and moved closer, pushing himself into your awaiting mouth as your lips stretched around his thickness, “Breathe through your nose, peach.” Just as the command was spoken, he thrusted into your throat with a devious smirk. Your hands shot up to grip his thighs as your balance faltered but that only made him move harder. His grip on your hair tightened, holding you firmly in place, as he began driving into your mouth with blunt strokes, “I wanna hear you gag, peach. Don’t fight it.” His free hand came up, pinching your nose shut as he buried his cock in your throat and left it there. Your fingers dug into his denim covered legs as you stared up at him and a harsh gag flew from your esophagus. He released your nose, pulling his hips back a bit, “Ahh, she listens like a good little whore. Let’s have another one, yeah?” He grasped your head and gave a sharp thrust, feeling your throat convulse around him with a second gag. You squeezed your eyes shut as they began to water and he was pinching your nose closed again, “Eyes on me, baby. C’mon, let me see you.” His hips were still moving but there was a desperation oozing from his tone. You opened your eyes to look up at him again, vision blurry through your tears. His hand left your nose to wipe a tear from your cheek and you could’ve sworn you heard him moan at the same time his cock twitched on your tongue. You hollowed your cheeks, slowly bobbing your head to draw another sound from him, “Fuck, peach…Keep going.” He sounded breathless as he released your hair and allowed you to finish him off. You took him in your hand again, twisting and stroking his length, while swirling your tongue around it. He leaned back on the hood of his car, his head thrown back as he stared at the cement ceiling, quiet curses spilling from his lips. You gazed up at him through your lashes, drinking in the sight of him as he came apart. His throat, covered in a sheen of sweat, glistening beneath the dim, yellow lights. His lips parted, chest rising rapidly with each shaky inhale. Every few seconds, a barely audible whimper would escape him and the sound sparked a strong, visceral need to bring him to his climax. Pressing your hand flat at the base, you took him all the way in, swallowing around his head with a moan, “Shit, baby, I-. Fuck, Y/N.” Jake’s head shot up, his eyes locking on your again. You stared at him, a pleading gaze, begging for him to just let go, and that’s exactly what he did. His mouth hung open, breath caught in his chest, as a choked grunt ripped from his throat. You eased him through his orgasm, swallowing his release while your tongue lapped at him, until his breaths evened out.

Pulling your mouth from him, you slouched back against the cold, concrete wall and swiped your hand over your lips, “A whore, Jake? Really? Such a sweet talker.”

He tucked himself back into his jeans with a chuckle, “You’re on your knees in a parking garage, peach. That’s not exactly ladylike behavior.” His laugh was cut short by the sound of a car door slamming and he reached down to help you off of the floor.

You swatted his hands away and pulled yourself up, “Fuck you, Jake. Just take me home.” You brushed your jeans off and moved to get in the car, but his hands caught your waist, hauling you back to him.

“I’m kidding.” He brushed the hair from your shoulder, leaning in close, “Stay, Y/N.” His lips ghosted over yours.

“I don’t have clothes…or a toothbrush.” You whispered against his mouth, waiting for him to kiss you.

He spun the both of you around and lifted you to sit on the hood of his car, “I’m sure I have a spare toothbrush. And what do you need clothes for?” Jake placed his hand on either side of you, finally pressing his lips to yours, “Aren’t these coming off when we get inside?” He trailed a finger along the hem of your top that rested over your breasts.

You placed your palm flat over his chest, pushing him back a few inches, “I do need clothes if I stay, because we’re not having sex tonight, babe.” His shoulders dropped with a hint of disappointment. You hopped down from the hood and grabbed his hips, “If you’re not okay with that, just take me home, Jake.”

“We don’t have to have sex.” He pecked your lips, “But I want you to stay, peach.” Another peck, “Please, stay.” As he kissed you for a third time, you couldn’t help but pick up on the pleading tone in his voice, something that felt very uncharacteristic for him, “You can find whatever you wanna wear in my closet, I don’t care.”

A smile formed over your face, “Well in that case, can we go in? I’m kind of cold…” He pulled away with a grin, taking your hand to lead you into the building.

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The morning came in a rush, the sun casting a soft light into the bedroom. Your eyes fluttered open to find Jake draped over your body, his head flat on your chest as he snored. His arm was hooked around you, hand grasping your side and he had a leg laid atop of your own. It was like he was trying to keep you tethered to earth. Like if he moved, gravity would take you away. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you looked at him, his face so soft and calm, lips parted just enough for his nasally breaths to escape. Your mind went back to the night before. After he brought you inside, he stuck to his word to let you dig through his closet for something more comfortable while he went in search of a spare toothbrush. You found an old, faded Highway Tunes t-shirt, the logo was shredded due to the many wash cycles it had seen. Removing your top, you pulled the oversized shirt over your head and peeled your jeans off before going to look for Jake. You found him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a bottle of water to his lips, “Hey…”

His eyes fell on you, zoning in on your bare legs, “Hey.” He gestured for you to come closer, placing his water on the countertop to hold your hips, “This might just be your new work uniform, peach.” His hands slid down to squeeze your ass, effectively pressing your body against his own.

“Yeah? You want me to show a little more leg at the store?”

His hands crawled back up, lifting your shirt with them, “Legs. Ass. Tits… Fuck, just show up naked.”

You grabbed his wrists, pulling them away from your skin to let the shirt fall back down, “Nice try.” Leaning up, you pressed your lips to his, catching his bottom one between your teeth with a quiet growl.

He twisted his fingers to interlock with yours before pulling out of the kiss with a groan, “You gotta stop that, baby… You’re making my dick hard again.” Jake stepped around you to open the refrigerator, grabbing a second bottle of water, “C’mon.” He nodded towards the doorway before exiting the kitchen. You toed behind him, following him back into his bedroom, where most of the night was spent rolling about his bed in steamy makeouts, listening to music and talking about nothing until you both eventually fell asleep.

And now, here you were, squished beneath him and trying not to move so that he wouldn’t wake up. A wave of butterflies rippled through your stomach as you studied his features. He was so effortlessly handsome, from his big brown eyes to his soft lips and perfect smile. Unable to resist the urge, you reached down to brush the hair away from his face, causing him to stir. A deep groan rumbled from his chest as his eyelids began to open. He let out a yawn, tightening his arm around you, as his eyes finally adjusted to the daylight. You watched him lift his head slightly, examining your form under him, before his entire body went tense. He sat up abruptly, shuffling to the edge of the bed, “Well good morning to you too, Jake.” When he didn’t say anything, you sat up as well, moving to place your hand on his back, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He shrugged your hand off, making it very clear that he was not ‘fine.’

“Jake…” You crawled towards him slowly, “What’s wro-.”

He cut you off as he stood up, “Nothing, I just forgot that I have shit to do today…” His tone was cold and he wouldn’t even look at you, “I need to shower. Can you get a ride home?” Jake left you no chance to respond as he rushed out of the bedroom. You stared at the doorway, completely dumbfounded, until the sound of the bathroom door slamming startled you.

Climbing out of the bed, you grabbed your phone from his nightstand to call Bellamy. You tucked the phone between your ear and shoulder, snatching your jeans off of the floor to tug them on.

Bitch. Do you know what time it is? Her voice was low and raspy, telling you that the call woke her up.

“Come get me, Bell. Now.” You picked up your pink top and went to the front door for your shoes.

She was more alert at your tone. Hey, what’s going on?

“It doesn’t matter… I’m gonna drop my pin, can you please just hurry up?”

Yeah, babe. Let me throw clothes on.

You hung up just as the bathroom door swung open. Jake emerged, a towel around his waist, and turned to look at you. You’re sure he could see the hurt on your face, but he didn’t say anything, just spun around and went back to his bedroom, pushing the door shut. A sick feeling spread through your stomach, prompting you to leave as quickly as possible. You skipped waiting on the elevator and bolted down the stairwell. Once you broke through the doors and hit the sidewalk, you sent your friend your location and began walking down the street, wanting to get far away from him. It wasn’t long before Bellamy called, letting you know she was close, and you walked back to the apartment building to meet her.

“Y/N, what happened?” Bell stared at you as you slid into the car.

You sunk into the seat, wishing it would just swallow you up, “I don’t wanna talk about it right now, I just wanna go home.” You refused to face her, keeping your head turned towards the window, but you could feel her eyes on you, “Bellamy, please. Just- Not right now, okay?” Your voice began to shake and she conceded.

“Okay, hun.” She spoke softly, shifting the car into drive and starting the path home.

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The rest of your Sunday was a blur after you’d gotten home. Bellamy could sense your disconcertion and tried to press you for details on what went down, but you kept brushing her off. You didn’t even know what happened… Everything was great the night before, for the most part, anyways, but Jake’s mood when he woke up was a shock to you. He seemed irritated, almost like he was angry that you were in his bed. You felt sick at the situation, used. He’d gotten what he wanted and tossed you out once he had it. And now it was Monday afternoon and you were parking your car in the lot behind the store, wondering if he was in there already, if he was going to pretend that nothing happened… You were only making your anxiety worse with the worrying. How was he going to act? Would you get an explanation? Which Jake was it going to be today? After a deep, calming breath, you climbed out of the car and headed for the back door. You went for the doorknob, but it was already pushing open from the inside.

“Woah.” Josh jumped back slightly with his hand over his chest, “You scared the shit outta me, Y/N. You trying to get another bloody nose?” His laugh made you smile, “You never come through the back.” He stepped outside, letting the metal door fall shut behind him.

“Well, normally, I either walk or Bellamy drops me off and uses my car to get to work.” You pointed at your car, a few feet away, “But I drove today… Wait, why are you here? It’s your day off.”

He glanced back at the building for a second, “I just stopped in to talk to Jake for a minute, but Olivia is up his ass.” He shook his head, “Good luck with them tonight.” He lifted his hand to your shoulder with a light pat.

You released a whine, “Perfect. This shift is gonna fucking suck and I don’t have the patience for it.” You pushed your lip out, giving Josh your best puppy eyes, “Any chance you just wanna stay all night?”

“You make it hard to say no when you give me those sweet eyes…” His voice trailed off as his hand left your shoulder to cup your cheek. His gaze dropped to your mouth as he ran his thumb over your pouted lip. Time felt like it froze, both of you unmoving. He was such a stark contrast to Jake. Always so warm and kind and funny. Your eyes fell on his lips as you swallowed hard and Josh went wide-eyed as he realized what he was doing. But before he could retract his hand, you were grabbing his shirt and pulling in. The second your lips hit his, his hand slid to the back of your neck while the other went to your back. His mouth moved on your own and you welcomed it, gliding your hands up his chest to loop around his neck. Your fingers twirled into his curls, as you pressed yourself into him. It wasn’t until a soft whimper escaped you that he broke the kiss, detaching from you completely, “Fuck…Y/N, I’m sorry. I- That was-.” He shook his head, trying to gather his bearings, “I didn’t mean to…”

He didn’t mean to? You made a mistake, misread the signs. He didn’t want to kiss you, he was just being sweet, nice, kind Josh and you had it all wrong… “No. Uhh. That was all me. I’m sorry.” You flew past him and through the back door, hearing him call your name just as it slammed shut. You went straight into the bathroom, locking the door. How did you manage to get rejected by both of them in less than 48 hours? Staring at yourself in the mirror, you let out a laugh of disbelief. How did you already make a mess of your new life? When you finally came out of the bathroom, Jake was coming from the storage room at the same time.

He took in your appearance, flushed cheeks and all, “That doesn’t look like your required uniform.” His smirk curled his lip. What? You looked down at your leggings and work shirt without saying anything. Jake moved in close, dropping his voice, “Did you forget about our night already? I didn’t…” He tilted your chin up, pressing his lips to yours for a few seconds. When he pulled back, his brows were drawn together as he stared at your lips, “Were you kissing someone else, peach?” His tone was accusatory, furthering your confusion.

“N- What? No. Jake, what…” You were at a loss for words, stuck gawking at him.

“No, you didn’t forget our night or no, you didn’t kiss anyone?” He was still holding your chin, studying your face as he awaited your answer.

You were squirming under his gaze, trying to focus enough to respond, “Neither. Or- Both? I-.” It was half a lie, but you weren’t about to tell him that you kissed his twin and got shot down.

He flashed a smile, knowing he had you flustered, but before you could ask what the hell was happening, he pecked your lips again, “Good. Now get to work, you’re late.” He dropped his hand and stalked out of the hallway without a second glance.

What the fuck…You grumbled to yourself as you went to clock in. If he was going to pretend like Sunday morning didn’t happen and everything was fine, maybe you would do the exact same…

The shift carried on as usual. The back and forth banter between you and Jake was the same as always. He was a little more subtle with the flirty touches, and you chalked it up to him wanted to keep his personal life out of his work life, but Olivia was on another level today… “Jaaaake… Can you come help me?” Every time he was near you, she would call for him, drawing his attention to her.

You were standing at the register, ringing a customer out, while Jake stood beside you, scrawling on a piece of paper. You gave the kid his change and watched him walk away before leaning in close to your boss, “Jaaaake, Liv needs you.” You mimicked her tone with a mocking expression, “God, she’s never this helpless on Josh’s shifts.”

“Cut it out, peach.” He tucked his pen behind his ear, placing the paper on the counter to go assist her. He grasped your hips as he shuffled behind you, stopping to whisper in your ear, “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you either, yanno…” He gave a small squeeze before retracting his hands and slithering off. The mind games never stopped. One minute, he’s leaning in close, letting his breath blanket over your neck to send a shiver down your spine. The next, he’s off flirting with Olivia, always touching her waist or whispering things to make her giggle. He was laying it on extra thick today and making sure you saw every bit of it. What you couldn’t figure out is why he did it. Why was he always trying to make you jealous? He could have you if he wanted you, you made that pretty obvious on his birthday…But then he practically kicked you out of his apartment the next morning. The game was getting old and you were growing tired of it quickly.

Your attention snapped to the two of them as Olivia’s crackling chortle echoed through the store. Jake’s eyes flicked over to you and you could see the glint in them, paired with a challenging smirk. Entirely over their display, you stalked into the back hallway and slipped into the storage room, closing the door behind you. You needed anything to keep you busy, to keep you from being around them, and the messy, disorganized storage room was the perfect distraction. Ever since the first time you’d seen this room, you’ve been itching to sort through it and tidy it up. You took your phone from your pocket and clicked a playlist on before placing it up on a shelf. Starting with the boxes on the floor, you pulled them open, one by one, sifting through the vinyls and cds. You had a few stacks, sorted the same way it was in the front; Genre first, then alphabetical, making a mental note to get labels for the shelves. You were on your fourth box, unsure of how much time had passed when the door to the room opened and closed. You didn’t bother to turn around as you continued digging through the box, “Jake, just let me finish this box before I’m forced to watch your show again…” You spun around in a flash at the sound of Josh’s voice.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” He was standing by the door, looking around the room at the piles of music. He stepped over a stack of cds to get to the large rack on his left and looked over the few shelves that you had started filling, “Are you organizing all of this?” He ran his finger along the row of records and turned back to you with an incredulous stare.

You could feel your cheeks growing hot under his gaze, “Yeah… I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before I started. I had no right to just-”

“No no. This is…amazing.” He gestured around the small space, “I’ve been telling Jake forever that we needed to do this. My mom always had everything in its place here and we just kind of let it go. But this… Thank you for starting this. Really.”

You were chewing on your lip, your eyes trained on the floor, “Why are you here, Josh? Or- I mean, did you need something?” You slowly lifted your head to look at him.

His smile was so bright all the time, like nothing could ever bother him, “Actually, yeah. I needed to see you.” When you didn’t say anything, he took a few steps towards you, “I got home and I just kept thinking about that kiss out back…” His fingers ghosted over his mouth as though he could still feel your lips.

“I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have-.”

“But you did, Y/N.” He smirked in a way that made it obvious him and Jake were twins. It was that devious smirk that Jake always had, but it wasn’t nearly as threatening, “And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been begging for that.” He was inches in front of you, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth. He reached out carefully, his left hand taking hold of your waist, and began to move in.

“Josh…” It came out in a gasp just as his lips landed on yours. Everything was frenzied; hands grasping and squeezing, tongues battling, breaths heavy. He had you backed against one of the racks, his hands gripping your ass before climbing their way up your body to settle beneath your shirt, on your waist again. You were grabbing at his shoulders as his lips explored your neck, trailing up your throat and giving your jaw a soft bite. Everything was escalating so quickly but it felt too good. All of it. His fingers digging into your skin, lips sucking at your neck, even the way his curls brushed against your cheek, tickling you just a bit. You didn’t want it to stop, but you were silly to think you had a choice in that matter.

“Well isn’t that something.” Your eyes snapped open to see Jake, standing in the doorway, and you pried Josh’s hands from your body, taking a few steps away, “Didn’t peg you for a liar, peach…” His eyes were locked on you, it didn’t matter how hard you tried to exit his line of sight.

You attempted to tame the tension, “Jake, It’s not-”

“I don’t want to hear anything from you.” He cut you off, his voice sharp and final as he stared daggers at you, his jaw clenched tight.

Josh stepped in front of his twin, “Dude, don’t talk to her like that.” He kept his voice calm, but it only made Jake angrier.

He dragged his eyes from you to look directly at Josh, a poisonous venom lacing his tongue, “You don’t have to play sweet with her, Josh. I’m sure if you just take her out back, she’ll happily get on her knees for you…”

Your hand came up to cover your mouth, your eyes filling with tears, “Jake…” His eyes flashed back to you, a look of instant regret in them, but you were already pushing past him to grab your phone from the shelf and rushing out the back door to your car.

🤍Taglist🤍

@jakekiszkasbuttsweat @ieatedasammy @twistedmelodies @dropdeadalyx31 @ageofbajabule @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @ignite-my-fire @becinabubblegvf @literal-dead-leaf @sanguinebats @myleftsock @laneygvf @writingcold @sinarainbows @lipstickitty @giraffehippy @jakesmustache @gracev0609 @gretavansara @profitofthedune @gvfmarge @brookekiszkaa @earthgrlsreasy @welllauragvf @takenbythemadness

#jake kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #josh kiszka #sammy kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka smut #josh gvf #josh kiszka x reader #jake kiskza x reader #josh kiszka smut #gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf twin series #gvf twin fic #twin lane #sinsofstardust #what is and what should never be

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foolondahill17 · 7 months

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I know she's a figment of Dean's imagination, but Mary in What Is and What Should Never Be has very questionable judgement. If my 28-year-old son came over frantically in the middle of the night asking strange questions and seemingly forgetting his dad was dead, and my husband had died very young from a stroke, I'd be dragging said son's ass to the hospital.

#fool's spn rewatch #what is and what should never be

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boywifesammy · 9 months

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careful what you wish for (deanjohn nsfw)

Dean is surprised to wake up after his encounter with the Djinn and find that his wish has come true. The fire never happened, Sam is on track to becoming a lawyer, and both his parents are alive.

The strange part of it all, however, is how excited John is to see him. That and the weird salacious winks that he keeps giving him when no one else is looking.

Everything here is part of the wish, right? So what exactly has Dean wished for?

another very late submission for @dadfuckerfest. this is literally just porn. the plot is not integral to the story it is just dean having a daddy kink. ao3 version linked above :)

It takes Dean a second to orient himself after the Djinn attack. His hunter instincts are blaring sirens, but when he picks up the picture frame on his and Carmen’s bookshelf, the pieces fall in place all at once. It’s a picture of his family. His nuclear family.

He’s on autopilot the whole drive home.

Good things don’t happen to Winchesters. That’s why the first feeling that Dean gets when he sees his mother, happy and healthy, is a deep, deep feeling of dread. Following the disbelief is shock. Then, lastly, an overwhelming wave of love washes over him, because, God, that’s his mother. That’s his mother, and she’s alive.

Mary doesn’t comment on the desperation in Dean’s hug. She ushers him inside and watches with a careful eye as he oggles at their shelves. Each picture frame immortalizes a moment from this dream life, like the mundane is precious, because to Dean, they are.

Dean didn’t even know that this is what he wanted, but now that he has it, he can’t argue against it. Sam’s graduation, tacky family photos, ball games and birthday parties. Hell, there’s even a picture of John holding up a fish the size of his torso, because this version of his father apparently does things like fish and play softball.

Good things don’t happen to the Winchesters. Dean wants to stab something. His terror sits thick at the back of his throat and no matter how hard he tries to push it down, it manages to worm out through the cracks. He takes a deep breath and hugs his mother again. His chest is not big enough for all of this hope.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Darling?” Mary’s worry is more pronounced now. Dean forces himself to calm down.

“I’m okay, Mom. I just— I missed you, you know?” His voice is still slightly wavy when he speaks. Mary pulls back from the hug and gives him a concerned look, her slight wrinkles crinkling at her eyes.

“Have you been drinking?” She says, accusatory. Dean’s response is cut off by a creak from behind and he whips around, hand already shooting down to his waistband. His pistol isn’t there. He starts flailing around for his knife but freezes when his father walks down the stairs.

“Dean?” John’s voice is deep and sleep-rough. He’s standing at the bottom of the steps in a wife beater and boxers. Dean’s heart stops.

“Dad.” Dean gasps, and it comes out horribly broken. John’s heavy eyelids slowly slide open. He gives Mary a questioning look.

Good things don’t happen to Winchesters, but apparently in Djinn dreams, the rules are different. This John looks happy. Fulfilled. The scar across his cheek that parted his beard is gone, and his dark circles have given out to slight wrinkles. He’s strong but not hunter strong. His arms are thick and his eyes are soft and his belly is slightly rounded from middle age. He’s alive. Holy shit. Dean’s father is alive.

Dean stumbles forward to the stairs. John’s confusion turns to worry but he throws out an arm and Dean doesn’t hesitate before falling into his chest. His forehead drops to his father’s shoulder. John gives him a comforting pat on the back.

“You okay, son?” He asks, and Dean sets his jaw. He lets himself enjoy John’s strong grip for just a moment, to appreciate the ease of his affection, then he leans back. He can’t bring himself to hug back. He just can’t.

“Yeah.” John raises an eyebrow. He glances over at Mary.

“Yeah, I’m great.” Dean repeats, more steady this time, but not fast enough for John to miss the sheen of his eyes. He looks over at Mary and gives her a reassuring smile. It’s skinwalker-ish in how ill suited it looks on his face. The only smiles that John ever gave Dean were sly little smirks or wide-eyed, adrenaline-induced grins of bloody teeth.

“Go get some sleep.” John nods his head towards the stairs. “I’ll be up soon.”

Mary looks back and forth between Dean and John, unconvinced, but it’s late and she’s tired. She sighs and makes for the stairs. She gives Dean a brief kiss on his temple as she walks past.

“Night, sweetie. I love you.” Again, Dean’s brain screams skinwalker. His heart screams to follow her. His body, however, stays rooted in place.

“Me too.” He whispers back. Mary smiles warmly and turns to trudge up the stairs. Her baby-pink nightdress scuffs the floor. Dean watches her go.

“Dean.” John motions to the sofa. “Sit down, will you?”

Dean doesn’t know how to approach this new dynamic with his father. This man isn’t the hunter he remembers. He isn’t even the same father. Dean responds with yes sir to John’s question and he laughs, smacking him on the shoulder like he just said a funny joke.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to see you, but why the sudden visit?” John asks and leaves his hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean tries not to flinch at the warmth of his palm through his shirt.

“Not sure. I… I had this nightmare. Where Mom— Mom was gone, and you…” Dean starts, and trails off when he realizes how nonsensical his words must seem to this version of his father, oblivious to anything supernatural and soft around the edges from civilian life.

John raises a questioning eyebrow. His stubble is neatly trimmed and his hair soft with conditioner. He looks well-rested despite the slight wrinkles and eye bags. Dean immediately averts his gaze. It feels blasphemous, seeing this warm, happy version of his father after burning his corpse on a pyre.

“You been drinking, son?” John asks, and Dean squeezes his eyes shut.

“No. No, I’m just… forget it.” They sit in silence for a beat. Then John gets up and heads for the liquor cabinet. He pours them a glass of whiskey each and walks back to the couch.

“Here.” Dean awkwardly accepts the glass, a strange shiver running through him when their fingers brush. John sprawls back against the sofa with his own drink. They drink in amicable peace, avoiding each other’s eyes.

The whiskey is good. It’s smooth and heavy-bodied, definitely more expensive than the cheap stuff John bought out on the road, but not so overpriced to be a guilty purchase. Dean follows it down his throat. He focuses on the warmth of his drink and not the warmth of the man next to him.

He can’t stop staring at his father’s body. His lightly tan skin is smooth and free of scars. He has a faded USMC tattoo on his inner forearm. A slight beer belly pokes through the front of his wife beater, and a spattering of chest hair peaks up from the hemmed neck.

His nipples are peaked up underneath the soft cotton. They look perfectly hard and pebbled, like they’d fit perfectly between Dean’s teeth.

The thought makes the whiskey sneak back up Dean’s throat. He looks away quickly from his father’s chest. What the fuck was that?

“Whatever it is, Dean, you’ll figure it out. You’re more smart than you give yourself credit for.” John’s voice is softer now, protective. Dean doesn’t let himself look at him.

“You’ve always got your old man on your side. Don’t ever feel like you have to do anything alone.” The whiskey comes back up a second time. Good things don’t happen to Winchesters. Dean clenches his jaw to keep back an ill-timed tear, forcing himself to turn and look his father in his eyes.

“Thanks, Dad.” Dean doesn’t think he’s ever said thank you to his father in his life. Then again, he can’t remember him ever doing anything for him worth thanking.

John gives Dean a hearty pat on the back and puts down his empty glass. He gets up from the sofa. Dean looks down at his drink, listening to the distant patter of his father going up the stairs. Even his gait is unfamiliar. Slow, patient, void of any panic or anger.

Dean swirls the whiskey in his glass. He watches it slosh up the sides and thinks about the Djinn. He thinks about Sam and Carmen and softball and his mother’s sleep-scratchy voice singing him to sleep.

Dean thinks until it starts to hurt, then he throws back his drink and puts his glass down on a coaster. He spreads out on the sofa and listens to the silence of his childhood home ring loud.

Dean sleeps surprisingly well. He wakes up feeling well-rested and considerably less panicked than the night before.

Good things don’t happen to the Winchesters, but when was the world ever predictable? Wasn’t it about time that their bad luck changed? They deserved better. Sam deserved better. He deserved a normal life and a stable job and a girlfriend who isn’t burning up on the ceiling.

His father deserved better. He isn’t about to destroy all of this just because he’s too keyed up and anxious to trust a good thing. This isn’t just his wish, it’s his family’s too. Maybe good things do happen to the Winchesters. It’s nice to hope.

The sandwich Mary makes him for lunch is the best damn thing he’s ever eaten and Dean’s tried every gas station sandwich known to man. It’s perfectly layered, a tantalizing blend of honey mustard, cured meats and thick bread. Mary tells him to eat slowly so that he doesn’t choke. Dean moans incomprehensibly around a bite and she laughs, shaking her head fondly.

John is sitting at the other end of the table. He’s absentmindedly flicking through a copy of the Lawrence newspaper while wearing a pair of reading glasses. His coffee cup from this morning is sitting on the table. Milk and sugar. Suburbia really does change a man.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” John flippantly asks, then turns a page. Dean looks up from his sandwich.

“Work?” He mutters, mouth full of bread and salami. Mary tuts from the kitchen.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, sweetie.” John turns a page and readjusts his glasses.

“You know, I spoke with Maggie the other day. Her car broke down again and she swears that you’re the only one who can fix it.” John’s smiling slightly, his teeth flashing white. “You ask me, she’s got the hots for you.”

Mary clicks her tongue and smacks John’s arm with her dish towel. She’s trying to frown, but her lips still quirk up slightly.

“John.”

“What? He’s a catch, I can’t be proud of him?” Mary huffs out a laugh and shakes her head. She goes back to the stove, stirring something or another, and John catches Dean’s eye over his newspaper. He gives him a cheeky wink.

Dean chokes on his sandwich. His cheeks are suddenly alarmingly red and he feels like he’s buzzing out of his skin.

“Eat slowly!” Mary calls again from the kitchen. Dean puts down his sandwich. John isn’t looking at him. He doesn’t seem shaken at all by the exchange, in fact, he’s smirking to himself about it like that’s a normal thing for fathers to joke about with their sons.

Dean blinks in confusion at his sandwich. Maybe it is normal. How the hell should he know? He isn’t exactly the poster child for a healthy father-son relationship.

“I’m going out for a beer.” John folds up his newspaper and places it on the table. He looks up at Dean. “You coming?”

Dean flails for a response. How is he supposed to tell his father that, yes, he does want to have a beer with him, but also that he’s still flustered by the strange almost flirty exchange they just had?

“Yeah.” He settles for instead, and John’s smile is worth the discomfort.

The beer is a perfectly icy bottle of El Sol, because everything here must be tailored exactly for Dean's preferences. Him and John sit in a comfortable silence as they drink. It’s strangely familiar. The moment reminds Dean of all those silent nights cleaning guns or racking salt shells while his father drank quietly in the corner.

God, his life really is crap. Or, was, he supposes.

John finishes his beer and sets it down on the porch. He stretches with a groan, his shirt rucking up his belly. Dean’s eyes automatically flit down to the flash of salt and pepper hair peeking up from his pants then scramble away in shame once he realizes what he’s doing.

“The uh— the lawn looks like it could use a mow.” He mutters. John gives him a disbelieving smirk. He raises an eyebrow.

“You want to mow the lawn?”

“Are you kidding? Hell yes.” John doesn’t seem entirely convinced but he shrugs and leans back on the porch.

“Knock yourself out.”

Dean does not know how to mow a lawn. That was the appeal of the whole thing at first but after struggling with the lawnmower for a minute with his father watching in silent amusement, he’s decided that the novelty of it is not worth the humiliation.

“You’re doing great!” John yells from the porch. He’s onto his second beer, his feet thrown up to enjoy the show. Dean sends a glower in his direction and his chest stutters when John laughs. It’s high, unrestrained and genuine.

“Christ, you’d think that you’d never mowed a lawn in your life.” John sets his half-finished beer on the steps and dusts off his hands before making his way over to Dean.

“Carmen really does spoil you, hmm?” Dean freezes when his father slides in behind him and straddles his lower back. He reaches around to grab the handle on the mower.

“Like this. Pull the string.” He yanks the pull cord and the lawnmower starts up with a deep growl. John doesn’t move away. He leans in closer, his chin resting on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean’s brain totally short circuits.

His father smells like beer and summer sweat. The heat from his body sinks into Dean. His soft belly pushes into his lower back and his arms curl around Dean to pull him back into his chest. They’re plastered together, John’s hips nestled into his ass.

“Uh… Dad?” Dean’s voice comes out strange and choked. John isn’t hard, but he isn’t exactly soft either. It’s not overtly sexual yet that only makes the whole thing weirder.

Dean’s entire body tenses up tight. Is this a thing that normal father’s do? It’s not like John is making any advances or acting like this is out of the ordinary. He’s simply holding Dean and nuzzling his beard into the soft skin of his neck.

Then again… all of this is Dean’s wish. Maybe somewhere, deep down, this is what he wants. What he needs. His father wrapped around him, smothering him in his warmth like a blanket.

“Yes?” John asks, voice gruff. Dean barely hears it over the motor of the lawnmower.

He takes a second to gather his thoughts, but he can’t come up with an argument. It’s not like John’s doing anything untoward. His lips push to Dean’s neck, not moving, just resting on his sweaty skin. Dean shivers.

“…Nothing.” It comes out a bit too breathy. Thankfully, the rumble of the motor is too loud for John to catch it. Dean leans back into his father’s body and shivers when John hums in approval. His strong arms move to wrap around his stomach.

“Dad.” This time, it’s definitely too breathy. Dean basically gasps the word. John laughs, low and deep, and he gives Dean a pat on the side before backing up.

“Finish up here, I’m heading back in.” Dean watches him go, flustered and confused and more than a little hard.

“Okay?” He mutters, and John winks. Again.

The front door shuts, and Dean forces himself to shift his attention to the lawn. He fumbles through it and manages to get the lawn looking somewhat decent by the time Sam pulls into the curb.

Jess gives Dean the same confused look that Mary did when he hugged her. He starts up an awkward conversation with Sam, who’s standing there in the most hideous combination of expensive clothes that Dean has ever seen. Seriously, a sports jacket over a button up? He looks like the king of preps.

“So, I see you started off Dad’s birthday with a bang, as usual.” Sam huffs and points to the bottle in Dean’s hand. Dean brings it up to eye level and squints.

“W-wait, Dad’s birthday— that’s today?” Another huff. Dean glares at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah Dean… that’s why we’re here.” Then Mary comes out to greet them, and Sam completely tunes him out. Dick.

“It’s good seeing you boys get along.” John whispers into Dean’s ear and Dean jumps at how close he is. He whips around to see him glancing over Dean’s shoulder. When did he get there?

“Yeah, it’s nice.” Dean mutters, watching Sam greet their mother with a hug and kiss to the cheek. Ugh.

“California did something strange to that boy.” John mutters slyly, and it makes Dean feel a little better that he’s not the only one put off by Sam’s demeanour. It’s not what Dean pictured when he imagined “normal”.

Then John’s hand sneaks around Dean’s waist, thumb rubbing right above his waistband, and Dean is reminded that his understanding of normal is apparently way off from reality. And if he gets a bit chubbed up from the touch, then he can pass it off as him adjusting to this new normal.

Apparently, it’s Winchester tradition to go fishing every year on John’s birthday. It’s an inexplicably surreal and bizarre day for Dean. John goes the whole mile; bucket hat, board shorts, fancy propellor boat and carbon-steel fishing rod. His lure box even has a Bass Pro Shops sticker on it.

Dean doesn’t remember ever going fishing in his life. He’s always loved the idea of it, the serenity of being out on the lake with a cooler full of beer, but there isn’t exactly much time for them to fish between burning bones and finding yellow eyes. There are very few things that take priority over the hunt. Now that Dean’s given it a try, he kind of regrets not doing it sooner.

Sam is terrible at fishing. This is supposedly well-known, because John pokes Dean in the side every time Sam loses a fish, in a ‘get a load of this guy’ motion. Eventually, Sam throws his rod aside and storms off to Jess. They have a brief, heated conversation, before Jess kisses him on the cheek and he settles at the other end of the boat with a huff.

Dean turns out to be pretty good at fishing. It’s a lot like hunting without the life-or-death pressure. Setting out the bait, waiting for a bite, then reading what’s on the other end to get a grasp on how to reel. Still, it takes one or two chances before he gets the hang of it.

John hands him a consolation beer when he loses his first fish. ‘I never get the first one either. Slippery bastards.’ When Dean does manage to reel one in, he earns a hearty pat on the back and an attaboy. Afterwards, he finds himself unconsciously leaning into his father. John doesn’t move away when their shoulders brush.

They set off on the little sailboat at quarter to two and come back right as the sun starts to set. John steers them to shore. Dean leans back on the deck next to Carmen and watches the splash of colour spreading across the sky. He sighs loudly, content.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you so happy in a long time.” Carmen whispers. Dean is laying on her lap and she’s absentmindedly running her thumb over his shoulder. Dean smiles and opens his eyes. Her soft features look beautiful in the shadow of the setting sun.

“It’s a good look on you.” She leans down to kiss him. Dean pecks her back and grabs her hand. Their fingers loop together.

They hold hands the whole way back to shore.

Sam’s engagement announcement during dinner is met with hugs and teary congratulations. Dean picks at whatever horrific asparagus abomination is on his plate and wordlessly thanks Carmen when she slips him a pack of jerky under the table.

Between the six of them, they manage to finish off two bottles of wine and get pleasantly buzzed by the end of the night. Dean’s face pales when he sees the bill but John doesn’t hesitate before throwing a few hundreds out onto the table.

They split into two cars on the way back. John drives with Dean and Carmen in the backseat of his SUV. Carmen dozes off onto Dean’s shoulder halfway through, a safe, comfortable weight pressed to his side. Dean chews on a strip of the jerky she gave him at the restaurant. He avoids his father’s eyes in the rear view mirror every time they dart to stare at his mouth.

When they get back home, Dean lays Carmen to bed and comes back down for a glass of water. He finds John sitting on the sofa, watching a rerun of a nondescript ball game.

John looks over his shoulder at Dean. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes half-lidded, and there’s a glass of whiskey in his hand.

He gives Dean a cheeky little smile. He looks so warm, wine-drunk and soft under the glare of the TV. Dean stiffly walks over to the sofa and pours himself a glass from the decanter on the coffee table.

“Where’s Sam?” Dean asks, settling next to John on the sofa. John lazily gestures towards the stairs.

“He turned in for the night with Jess. You know he gets handsy after a drink or two.” Dean startles when John’s palm comes down to rest on his thigh. It squeezes at the junction of his thigh and crotch, dangerously close to his dick. John’s laugh is more of a growl.

“Guess it runs in the family.” The humor in his tone is overshadowed by the liquor. Dean is frozen solid. His thoughts are running a mile a minute, a blurry mess of excuses and explanations and denials.

John’s hand slides up towards his crotch. For one long, terrifying second, Dean is sure that he’s about to slip it between his legs, but it drags past his hip to rest on his quivering belly. His fingers dip under the edge of Dean’s shirt to pet at his happy trail.

“I’m real proud of you, you know that, Dean?” John is so close that his breath washes across Dean’s lips. An involuntary noise escapes Dean’s throat before he can choke it back. He’s never heard his father say that to him in his life.

“Sam too, of course, but you… you make all of this,” he gestures around vaguely, “worth it.”

“All of what?” Dean asks, breathless and strained. John smiles softly.

“You know, life. I wake up every day and ask myself what it’s for, then I see you and I understand.” His hand drags up under Dean’s shirt over his washboard abs. Calloused fingertips skim the peaks of his nipples.

“You’ve done well for yourself, Dean. You have a job, a house, a lovely girlfriend, and most importantly… you’re happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. For you to build a life for yourself.”

Then John dips closer, and Dean whimpers. Fucking whimpers. It’s embarrassing as hell. He grabs John’s arm reflexively and shivers at how big he is. He’s never been on the receiving end of that. Usually, it’s something with fangs or claws.

“Still, I miss you, kiddo.” John wet lips brush against Dean’s pulse as he talks. His rough fingers toy at his nipple. Dean grabs him tighter and his jaw drops open. He should be pushing him away. Why isn’t he pushing him away?

“Seeing you today… that was the best birthday gift of all.” John’s palm suddenly drops down between his legs. It rubs up against Dean’s very hard dick and his hips automatically grind forward into the friction. John hums in approval.

“Dad?” Dean pants, far shakier than he intended for it to sound. John nibbles at the shell of his ear. His lips trail down to Dean’s pulse point.

“And I think I know how to make this birthday even better.” He whispers, then he sucks a hickey into Dean’s throat. Dean gasps.

“Dad—” And that time, it’s more of a moan than a question.

John spends some time nibbling and sucking at Dean’s skin to darken the bruise. It gives Dean some much needed time to process all of this, even if most of it is a hazy blur of confused arousal and shame. John’s fingers start working at the button of Dean’s jeans.

“Come on, baby. Lay back and let me show you how proud I am of you.” The pet name is what finally breaks Dean out of his stupor. John unzips his jeans.

“Dad, wait.” His fingertips skim over Dean’s hard cock and it’s like fucking lightning in his veins. He scrambles back against the sofa.

“Wait— stop!” John immediately pulls back. He gives Dean a worried look.

“What’s wrong?” Dean wipes his hand over his face to hide his furious blush.

“Nothing. I just… need a second.” The ceiling is hazy. The edges of his vision swim. He hears his father sigh.

“Okay, sport.” Dean squeezes his eyes shut and ignores the uncomfortable twitch his dick gives at that name.

The worst part of this isn’t even the incest. It’s how hard he is right now. If this wish world is truly a product of Dean’s subconscious, he must be one sick motherfucker, because this is leagues better than anything that he could have dreamed up.

It isn’t all that surprising, really. Sure, it's so goddamn humiliating that he will never live down, but Dean Winchester having daddy issues? That isn’t exactly news. Even Dean can admit that he’s had some weird dreams once or twice, but dreams are one thing. This? This is beyond depraved.

“What’s wrong?” Dean eases open his eyelids. John is hanging over him with concern in his eyes.

He doesn’t say anything as Dean slowly sits up. He looks so nervous, so apologetic that Dean’s shame dulls out to confusion.

Does he really want to do this? Dean takes in his Dad’s salt and pepper beard, his middle-aged body and the gentle wrinkles around his eyes. John’s chubbed up dick is heavy in his slacks. He’s staring at Dean with raw hunger in his eyes.

Dean shivers. God, yes. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything else in his life so bad.

“Nothing.” He mutters. He pushes up onto his knees and moves to the other side of the sofa.

Then Dean kisses his Dad.

It’s good. Really good. Rough and wet and perfect. John leads the pace with a bruising grip on Dean’s jaw, sucking his tongue and grunting into his mouth. It’d be disgusting if it wasn’t so hot. Dean’s hands scramble up to grab his father’s collar and he whines into his mouth, lapping up the taste of whiskey on his teeth. He can feel the rough bite of his father’s stubble on his chin, turning his skin a bright red. He leans into it, moaning louder. It feels like coming home.

“Baby…” John says again, that damn nickname, and Dean melts in his arms. He lets John lay him back against the arm of the sofa. He sucks on Dean’s tongue one last time, then, all at once, he shoves his hand inside Dean’s boxers.

Dean makes a disproportionately loud noise and his heart stops. John drifts his knuckles over a vein on the side of his dick, forcing him to bite his lip bloody to keep back a moan.

“What if they hear?” Dean hisses. John laughs and keeps teasing his dick.

“You care about that now?”

“But— Carmen—”

“I can’t help that she’s a lightweight. If she wanted in, she should’ve laid off the pinot noir.” Dean’s mouth falls open. Partially from the insinuation that his girlfriend is somehow in on this, and partially from the way that John is thumbing at the tip of his dick. He’s starting to drip now and it’s making everything sinfully slick.

“You’re my present, Dean. Today is all about me and you. I don’t want anyone else interrupting.” That sends an unexpected jolt of excitement up Dean’s stomach. His foreskin slides back in John’s grip and John’s thumb rubs at the bead of precum dripping from his slit.

“Okay?” Dean gasps, and it’s more of a question than a statement. John laughs again, gruff and deep.

“Lay back.” Dean lays back onto the arm of the sofa. The motion grinds his dick up into his jeans and the sensitive tip drags across the denim. Dean’s entire body jolts up but John pushes his hip down. He tugs on his belt loop.

“Turn over.” Dean, ever obedient, does so without any questions. After he’s on his stomach, though, he suddenly feels uncomfortably exposed.

“What are you–” John spreads his asscheeks and spits. It lands haphazardly on top of Dean’s hole, and he clenches up with a jolt.

“Shh, I know what you like, darling. Just let me take care of you.” Dean forces himself to relax. His heart is beating a mile a minute and his throat is choked up with shame but he can’t pretend that this isn’t making him rock hard. He pushes his ass back into his Dad’s hands. The knowledge that it’s John back there, groping him with those massive hands and groaning at the sight of his fluttering hole? That does things to Dean that he wouldn’t admit to under the worst of torture.

John plays with his cheeks for a bit. He kneads them, skirting his thumbs over the edges of Dean’s asshole. Then, without any preamble, he leans down and licks a stripe from Dean’s balls up to his sweaty hole.

“Dad! Holy fuck–” Dean moans out, then shoves his face into the crook of his elbow to muffle his noises. John’s elbows are balanced on either side of Dean’s thighs on the sofa. His tongue is rasping over Dean’s puckered hole, the tip teasing at the opening and trying to slide inside.

The rough prickle of John’s beard between Dean’s cheeks has him grunting out in surprise. It’s not entirely bad. Actually, it feels surprisingly good, the tingle of pain along with the insistent pressure of his Dad’s tongue massaging his hole. Dean pushes back into the mixture of sensations.

John growls as he buries his face deeper into his ass, his hand coming up to hold back one cheek. He eats Dean out like a fucking animal, using his grip on his ass to yank him back onto his tongue and make out with his hole like he’s being paid for it.

“You taste fucking amazing.” The buzz of his voice against Dean’s bare skin has him bending back. Dean really doubts that he tastes good at all considering how sweaty he’s gotten since he showered this morning, but John seems to think differently. He gets both hands on his ass and lifts him up so he can shove his face deeper.

The drool he’s spilling is dripping down his chin and Dean’s ass, down his balls in thick streaks. John’s slick lips latch onto Dean’s hole and suck. Dean makes a humiliating, keening noise at the back of his throat and bucks back onto his mouth.

“Dad! Please, Dad, please–” John sucks again at the sensitive skin and Dean breaks down into a mess of whimpers. Fuck. He didn’t think he’d like this so much.

“Please what, baby boy?” John’s voice is sly and cheeky. His thumb dips between his cheeks to rub at his soft asshole, slick with spit, and Dean forces himself to focus.

“Please. I… I think I–” ‘I think I’m going to cum,’ Dean is about to say, because his dick is dripping like a facet down his leg, but John interrupts him.

“If you can still think after I’m done with you, then I haven’t done my job.” He takes that moment to spread Dean’s cheeks as far as they go and start wiggling his tongue into his ass.

By the time he manages to get the tip inside, Dean is a sweating, panting mess against the sofa. His mouth is hanging open and his arms are slick with drool. His eyes might be crossing a little bit. John uses the spit pooling at his crack to slick up his finger. He slowly works one in along with his tongue, quirking it until he brushes something that makes Dean jolt.

“Oh– oh!” It’s good. It’s too good. John keeps hitting that perfect spot inside of him and spewing filth and it’s rewiring something crucial in Dean’s brain because he has never been this turned on in his life. Dean doesn’t think he can cum hands-free, but If John so much as brushed Dean’s dick right now, he’d go off like a shot.

“Come on, Darling, show Daddy how good it feels.” Fireworks shoot off in Dean’s brain. His vision spins dangerously. Something awful in his chest that never should have seen the light of day explodes and fills every part of his body.

“Yes yes yes!” Dean might be screaming. He doesn’t know, and he frankly doesn’t care. John slides his tongue out of his hole and slips a second finger in to pummel that spot.

“There you go, just let go.” John mutters into his asscheek. Dean is convinced that he can’t cum just from this, but the feeling building in his stomach is indescribable. It’s almost painful how violent it is.

John kisses a freckle on Dean’s asscheek. He laps at it with his tongue, then gets his teeth around the peachy flesh and bites. Hard. Dean seizes up on the sofa.

“I c-can’t, Dad– Daddy! Daddy!” Dean’s brain to mouth filter is one hundred percent offline when he moans those words. He can vaguely recognize that it’s possibly the most humiliating thing he’s ever said, but he really can’t give a fuck. He’s in the middle of the best damn orgasm of his life and it just won’t end.

“Always so full.” Dean hears John mutter over the haze of another orgasmic pulse. Soft lips wrap around his balls to suck and massage them with a tongue, and Dean lets out another unintelligible garble. It’s warm and slippery and the perfect amount of pressure. He bites down harder on his forearm to suppress his grunts, riding John’s mouth and fingers as he hits the tail end of his orgasm.

John gives Dean a few seconds to recuperate. He flips him over and lets Dean cling to his shoulders as he comes down from the high. A few seconds before Dean can doze off, he reaches down and nudges his thighs open.

“Legs up, Sweetheart.”

Dean hooks his arms around his legs and lazily pulls them up to his chest. John’s full weight crushes his front and he pushes up into the grip, just to feel the broad edges of his father’s chest and shoulders when he bears down harder on him. John smiles against his neck.

“You like how big I am, baby?” A shiver runs up Dean’s back. He sighs and nods.

“Yeah, Daddy.” It sounds ridiculous in Dean’s deep voice but he’s too far past the point of humiliation to care. He wraps himself around his father in a koala grip, nails digging between his shoulder blades. The muscles of John’s upper back flex under his palms. His skin is slick with sweat.

Dean buries his face into John’s throat and just lays there for a second. Taking it in. The heavy weight of his father’s chest pushing him into the cushions, the slight brush of hair on his chest, the fevered pants clouding up their shared air.

“I got you, okay? Just lay back. I got you.” John whispers into the crook of Dean’s neck. To Dean, it translates as an order. He burrows deeper into John’s chest and pushes all his reservations out of his mind, leaving space for nothing but his father, surrounding him completely.

John wipes his hand over the mess of cum on Dean’s stomach and uses it to slick up his dick. Dean is already blissed out from his orgasm. His breath catches when John’s cock nudges up against his hole, sloppy and spit-slick but still tight. John teases the opening with his tip.

“I’m big here too, hmm?” He hums. Dean distantly registers that the porn-worthy bad acting is probably also part of this wish, and that he needs to stop watching bad erotica because it’s melting his brain. He does really want that dick in him though. And it’s not like the dirty talk isn’t working for him.

Well… when in Rome.

“So thick.” Dean moans back, only cringing slightly at the high pitch of his voice. It was definitely the right choice because John’s eyes pool up with lust and he rolls his hips to shove his dick into Dean. The tip pops into him and Dean gasps for air.

He’s never done this before. He doesn’t know why everyone assumes he has. Dean isn’t gay. He’s just… a little fucked up.

It’s a lot. Dean’s head rolls back against the headrest. His eyes are rolling back into his skull. John braces his body weight on his shoulders and bucks his hips up. It shoves more of his dick past the resistance of Dean’s hole. Dean bites his lip and tries to relax.

“It’s all for you, darling. Every inch of it.” As promised, another inch slides inside. Dean nuzzles up into John’s rough cheeks like a cat. He’s so cock-drunk, drooling all over the sofa and his chest.

“Dad—” The sentence is cut off by a gasp when John bears down on Dean and shoves the rest of his dick inside. His hips slap against Dean’s ass with a loud smack.

“Dad!” Dean can feel his dick all the way up in his fucking throat. John bends him in half and puts their foreheads together. He licks his lips as he slowly grinds his hips down. The thick head of his dick keeps rubbing at Dean’s prostate, glancing over it with each grind like a bone deep massage. Dean cries out in pain-ecstasy.

Everything after is a mess of messy thrusts and breathless moans. Dean shoves his face into John’s throat and lets go. He lets himself sink into the pleasure, thighs trembling as he’s drilled into the sofa, and all that’s left is the satisfaction of being filled completely and the warmth of his father’s body so close that they share the same air.

In some roundabout way, this is everything he’s ever wanted.

By the end, they’re both sweaty, panting messes. John’s breakneck pace has slowed down to a leisurely hump, dick barely pulling back from Dean’s sore hole before grinding back in. Dean can feel another orgasm building at the pit of his stomach.

“I love you, baby.” John mumbles that right before he cums. He stares into Dean’s eyes the whole time, his breathing stuttering with every wave, and it’s too much for Dean. He death-grips the sofa back and spills across his belly.

“Love you too, Daddy.” John fucks him through it. He rubs up against Dean’s prostate until he wrings out the last of his orgasm, his thin, watery cum pooling at his belly button. The last few spasms are completely dry but they’re still incredible. It feels like it goes on forever.

A few minutes later, John pulls out of his ass with a hiss. Dribbles of cum drip down Dean’s crack and onto the sofa. Suddenly, he’s full again, and Dean whimpers. He grinds back down into the hand, slowly realizing that it’s John, stuffing the cum back into him.

“Keep it in.” John growls. Dean shivers.

Laying in John’s arms is the most soothing thing in the world. Dean snuggles into his chest and lets him pull him closer to his chest. They’re cuddling. It’s as strange as it is amazing.

John’s soft belly and chest are a perfect cushion for Dean’s body, all hard edges and fear. He burrows deeper into his neck and lavishes in the smell of his father, thick, rich and sweaty. John places soft little kisses across his temple.

“God, I’m never going to get over you.” He mutters. There’s genuine love in his voice, a deep, terrifying kind of need that makes Dean shiver. He closes his eyes and dozes off on his father’s chest.

The Djinn, Sam, Yellow Eyes, none of that matters right now. It might never matter again. As long as John is happy, Dean is too.

“My pretty boy.” That’s the last thing that Dean hears John say before he drifts off into half-sleep. He can feel John stroking his pink cheeks, and he realizes that he might be absolutely smitten with this man. When Dean smiles faintly in his sleep, John strokes his lips too. Dean can’t help but smile wider.

Maybe good things do happen to Winchesters.

#oc #deanjohn #dadfuckerfest #supernatural #spn fanfic #johndean #wincest #what is and what should never be #spn 2x20 #dean winchester #john winchester

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