Dean had always assumed he had the potential for a raging breeding kink.
I mean, why not? He was a self-obsessed, family-driven man. The idea of knocking someone up, of watching their body change because of him, seeing their swollen belly as a public reminder of his possession of them, and knowing he’d created a perfect little kiddo who was gonna look up at him one day and call him daddy…yeah, that sounded hot as hell, right?
But any time he tried to play out the kink during hook-ups, he just couldn’t sink into it. The girls he slept with would be more than eager to roleplay the part, spreading their legs and begging Dean to knock them up. But as Dean fucked them into some dingy motel mattress, the idea of actually getting some girl pregnant had him wanting to get up and bolt. As the girls rambled filthy dirty talk beneath him, he’d most often end up telling them to shut up, pressing his hand over their mouth as he chased his own release.
And then, most unexpectantly, like he’d read Dean’s freaking mind and knew exactly what his big brother needed, Sam was there reigniting Dean’s kink.
Dean had Sam pinned down on their tiny motel mattress, long legs folded up towards his chest, and Sam was giving Dean that innocent baby brother smile as he pleaded so soft and sweet: “Breed me, daddy? Please. I want to be stuffed full of you. Wanna have your pretty babies. Wanna make you so proud. Please, De.” And of course goddamn Sammy was running his hand over his belly the whole time he was saying it, knowing just how much he was enticing Dean.
And as Dean thrust down and praised Sam for what a good submissive girl he was and how he was going to make such a good housewife out of him…boy did he know that he definitely had a raging breeding kink.
