Just thinkin bout Dean Winchester, naked, on his stomach, spread out on a bed. Just taking it from behind, gripping onto and gasping into the pillows. The strokes aren’t fast but they are hard, and his dad’s big enough to fill him up completely. The stretch, the friction, the bruises that’ll appear in his hips in the morning. Languid and perfect.
Oblivious John who sees Dean, shirtless and sweating under the covers, and thinks he’s sick. It’s the middle of a school day and the hunt was a bust so he thinks nothing of the fact that neither Sam nor Dean updated him on the situation. The only thing he’s confused about is why Dean looks like a deer in the headlights. His cheeks are flush and his hair is a mess with sweat.
Before Dean can get a word out to protest, John has his hand to the kids forehead to check for heat. He finds some but not a lot, what is surprising is the whimper he hears. His kid must be more out of it than he thought.
With a few words of comfort, he headed to the motel bathroom to run a cool bath. The fever may not be much now, but it’s better to stop it in its tracks than let it really take hold. This wasn’t exactly what he had planned for the day, but nothing so far had gone as he expected.
With the bath started and the water sufficiently cool, he heads back to the main room to find Dean sitting up, slowly and unsteadily rising from his seat. In a rush, John was at his side and pushing him back down. The sound that released from his son was unlike anything he had ever heard. Something between a gasp and a whine that gave John pause.
He took in the scene again. Dean is shirtless, in bed, flushed and sweating. His eyes are bright and his hair is sticking to his skin from sweat. There’s no cough, no sneeze, he hadn’t touched any part of his body that would be particularly sore. He looks around for any other clue and- oh. There’s something small tenting the blanket. Could Dean have taken something? Gotten hurt? Been attacked? He yanked back the blanket, quick enough that Dean didn’t even get a chance to fight it.
And-
John might be an idiot.
Dean scrambles to grab the blanket back but John is still gripping it. He grabs a pillow instead, rushing to cover his still leaking erection. As the rough cover of the pillow touches him, he lets out that same noise as before. A mewl.
He looks to his boys face again, finally tearing his eyes away from his arousal that now seemed far too obvious. His eyes were wet and watering. He touched deans face again, this time to cradle his cheek, to reassure. A soft whine left his throat again and he somehow blushed deeper.
They were stuck staring at each other. Unsure of where to go from here in such dangerous territory. The silence was broken by Dean shifting in discomfort and jerking at the pressure on his dick, making him whine again. Slowly, John lowered his hand to the pillow, keeping his eyes on his boy’s to look for any trace discomfort or rejection. He pushed down on the pillow, just enough to give Dean a bit of friction. He bucked his hips into the contact, obviously pent up. John thinks he’s finally starting to get it now.
He swiftly removes the pillow and takes in the sight of deans cock. It’s as red as his face and dripping like a faucet. And it’s pretty. John’s never looked at another man’s dick and thought it was anything close to attractive, but every inch of Dean proved to be just as beautiful as his face. And to top it all off, it was cute. Short and small and perfect. He grabbed the cute, little cock and just held it, easily covering the whole thing with his hand. His other hand held on to Dean’s hip to stop him from bucking up.
He decided then and there to properly take care of his baby boy, in any and every way he could.
*The winner of this matchup will represent their bracket in the inter-group finale poll(s).
PROPAGANDA:
[Dean]
"hes so breedable. hed be such a good mom."
"we need a supernatural sequel somehow."
"He’s the reason we have the concept of Omegaverse. Destiel had a part of the development of Ao3. Most people consider the Destiel Love Confession scene as a reliable news source. This used to be THE Supernatural Destiel website. Don’t do my boy Dean dirty like this, he’s been through enough. 😭
Misha Collins himself just said at a con that if he could go back and refilm the series with Castiel there from the start, Cas would have gotten season 1 Dean pregnant immediately."
Propaganda courtesy of @acefusti138
[Grunkle Ford]
"He has that pathetic nerd swag why wouldn't I want him pregnant. I know multiple people who would want to bang that senior citizen."
"okay so this is the most breedable motherfucker in gravity falls. sorry but its true. eldritch chaos god triangle wants him so bad he ended the world about it, genius engineer wanted him so bad it made his wife divorce him, aliens want him, everyone in the town keeps calling him a silver fox and hot, etc. his autistic swag, presumable complete sexual inexperience in his 60s, and whimsy are a recipe for all to feel extreme lust when gazing upon his visage.
reasons that he is so mpreg-able aside, it is actually somewhat plausible that he is currently, as we speak, mpregnant. the new gravity falls book, the book of bill, had a website that was released to promote the book and also relay a bunch of new fun information and arg things. this new book, in universe, is written with the intent to be read by ford, and for the website, it is showcasing ford's laboratory. so one could view all of the material with the perspective of it being directed at ford.
one of these messages on the website is an image of an ultrasound of a baby-- a triangular baby. on it, there is the message "congrats, guess what's growing inside you right now! see you in nine months, papa!"
so…. ford might be mpregnant with his ex, bill ciphers baby. yayyyy."
"He's just so submissive and breedable. he should get a sci fi abortion. he would not enjoy fatherhood."
It’s post hunt and they’re tired. Dean’s the one who really took the brunt of it. Got slammed through a second story window by the ghost. Luckily, the bushes cushioned his fall, but he still left limping, battered, and bruised. John was unscathed save for the few scrapes and bruises that were unavoidable on any hunt.
So they took it slow. John pulled Dean into the shower where he washed them both. They exchanged gentle, sloppy kisses as Dean leaned against his father who in turn cleaned him off and teased him. They were both in the mood and they knew it, but they also knew that Dean was in no shape to be doing much. That in mind, Dean was surprised to feel the finger actually push into him. He pushed his face into his dad’s chest and he groaned from the full feeling. John was slow and gentle, pulling in and out until he could easily fit three fingers.
He gave his son a kiss to the side of the head before pulling them out of the shower and to the towels. Dean was a little confused by the sudden stop, but way more horny for the tease of waiting. John toweled them both off and scrubbed their hair until it was only damp. Dean gasped as he was lifted from where he was leant against the motel sink. It only registered what happened when he was laid out on the bed with his dad hovering over him. He received a quick kiss before being rolled onto his front. He whimpered at the brush of bed sheets against his straining erection. He attempted to pull his knees up to give his dad a better angle but he was quickly stopped by a hand on his back, pushing him back down onto the bed.
His son looked beautiful. Bright green eyes looked over his freckled shoulder with a question, but all he did was rub his back and sides in return. The boy settled into position, trusting his father to make him feel good. John cherished these moments above all else.
He felt the press of his father’s slick head, thick and familiar, a comfort after an arduous hunt. He sighed as it popped in, content. He pulled the pillow over his arms and almost cradled it to his face, allowing himself to get comfortable. The first thrust in didn’t hit his prostate, but it felt like heaven all the same. Nothing ever felt as complete as when his dad was buried inside of him, as close as they could possibly get.
He started up a slow rythme, taking his time so as to not exacerbate Dean’s injuries. It took a few minutes of slow thrusting before Dean finally got impatient. He started pushing back to meet John’s thrusts. With a firm hand to his hip, John pushed his pelvis back down to the mattress, a clear order to stay still. With a whimper, Dean did as he was told.
Dean began to drift. The steady, gentle pleasure lulled him into a contented state. He felt nothing but the pillow under his head and the rocking of his daddy into his body. With a sigh and some mewling, he released onto the bed, completely untouched, but entirely perfect.
John didn’t stop, didn’t even realize that his boy just came with how delicate it was, he just kept rutting, slowly chasing his own release. He felt the occasional shudder run through Dean. He ate up every ounce of submission and trust and vulnerability.
His boy was like putty in his hands, loose and warm and willing, so willing. He rubbed up his sides and down his back, attempting to sooth the aches away and replace them with pleasure. It was with a particularly firm rub up Dean’s sides that John felt him shudder and mewl. Didn’t even try to buck back, just stayed still and pliant for him.
The show of vulnerability finally got to him a few minutes later when he could feel how close he was getting. John reached a hand under Dean to stroke him, get him to the edge quicker, but he was shocked to feel a warm puddle and a soft dick. He hasn’t even noticed that Dean had come, and a lot by the feel of it. It was rare for him to get off untouched, and the novelty made it all the better.
Just a few more thrusts saw John finishing, filling Dean up as much as he could, passing off as much warmth and contentment as possible. Dean sighed and smiled at the feeling, relishing in the claim laid upon him while he floats and drifts in the clouds. He hardly noticed when he dad rolls him back over, only starts coming back when the rough of stubble brushed his face along side chapped lips. Lazily, he returns the kiss.
John is amazed by the sight before him. His beautiful boy. Hazy eyes, glowing cheeks, and a perfection that can’t really be defined.
Neither of them could ever be sure when it really started. Maybe it began with having to share a bed and Dean’s twenty-something hormones getting the best of him. Maybe it was when dean caught John having some alone time and they both noticed the bulge in dean’s jeans rather quickly. Maybe it was the looks they shared over little Sammy’s head like exasperated parents.
Or perhaps, they were always there. Always one move away from falling into this, into bed, into each other.
Dean hustling pool and winning bar fights and flirting with girls and drinking beer. Dean, thirty minutes later, whimpering and whining into a pillow as his dad takes him from behind and fucks the masculinity out of him.
I think I need to remember that not every picture needs to fit 100% perfectly. Like the Dean stand in can have dark hair or have straight legs and it’ll be fine.
Sammy isn’t home but John will be, so Dean decides it’s finally time. Bare feet, soft sweatpants, ratty t-shirt, and his new, lacy, white panties. He’s nervous in a way he’s never been. Afraid of the possible disgust and rejection, but he thinks Dad will like it. It only took a couple slips of “baby girl” and “princess” for Dean to get the hint, that maybe John didn’t always want to be fucking his son, but his daughter, his wife. He thought about makeup but decided to save that idea and try one thing at a time. Plus, his hands were shaking from anxiety and excitement, far too unsteady to apply the soft strokes and gentle lines.
It didn’t take long for Dad to get home, and even less time for them to end up in bed. Dean straddling his lap while they shared kisses and felt each other freely, no one around to judge their love. Dean was already pent up, the hours of waiting felt like the bestworst kind of teasing. Dad felt all around his body, caressing his face, stroking his sides, and squeezing his ass. But he paused when he finally slipped his hand past the elastic of his sweatpants.
Dean’s ready to bolt at the first inkling of disgust and dad must see it. He pushes on his ass, pulling them closer together while the other hand strokes deans hip. Get dressed up just for me, babygirl? Dean’s keen is loud, embarrassingly so, but his dad just chuckles and strokes the lace covering his cheeks.
His face is so red that he must be glowing, so he tucks his face right into his father’s chest, just under his chin. Dean isn’t sure the response he expected, but it definitely wasn’t the cooing, and it certainly wasn’t the next words out of his mouth. Is my princess shy? My girl is just too pretty for her own good. Dean can hear the smirk in his voice, but he can’t find an ounce of sarcasm. They’re both breathing heavy and they’re both tenting their pants with their arousal.
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