Ok so. I may have been sitting with this for too long
Dean…
You know he's fucking got extra sperm… that man is built like a fucking god.. I just can't shake the feeling that if he was hell-bent in getting you pregnant (both consenting ofc) then he would. And he would pump so much into you..
requests open!!
pairing : dean winchester x reader
summary : dean has the craving to impregnate you , even if he tires you out round after round.
warnings : mdni , 18+ , est. relationship , pregnancy/breeding kink , p in v , smut , dirty talk , mommy kink (?? u decide).
615 words
ily for this , wish he was the breedable one sometimes 🫦
in the shared space that was dean’s bedroom, it felt even smaller and more cramped than usual due to the strong arms that were planted on each side of your head, caging you in. your legs were wrapped tight around his waist, heels digging into his lower back as his hips pistoned into your own, your hair getting tangled between his fingers with each deep thrust.
you two had been at it for an hour or so, ever since he got back from a hunt with sam. he came straight to the bedroom where he knew you were and bent you over the edge of the bed, ripping your pants down alongside your damp panties. as of lately, every night ended with you being fucked stupid and stuffed full of his seed that dripped out of your tired entrance. but obviously, he shoved it back inside of you, never letting a single drop go to waste.
he’d been hellbent on having sex raw, even going as far as to throw away all condoms he kept in his bedside drawer, and insisted on not pulling out. besides the few times you gave him a blowjob and he’d paint your face white, his cum was shooting deep inside of you and making home. sometimes he’d even shove a plug in the tight hole of your cunt just so nothing was spilling.
"fuck, sweetheart.. gonna pump you full ‘til your round with my kid." he spoke during grunts, the headboard still creaking despite the pillow behind it to stop it from slamming against the wall, his body leaning over yours to hit a deeper angle. his hands slid down from beside your head to grab your calves, lifting your legs so they were slung over his shoulders, the tip of his cock assaulting your cervix as his hips quickened the pace somehow.
your moans were drowned out by his lips suddenly crashing against yours, tongues swirling and teeth clattering against eachothers. "so tight, all for me." his mouth left yours only to drag down your chest, tongue flicking at your perk nipples before he wrapped his lips around one, his hand kneading the other one to give his favorite girls the attention they deserved. "can’t wait for these to get swole, dripping with milk." his hips stuttered at the delicious sob you let out at his words, your hands clutching the sheets.
"you’d like that, huh? you’d like me to make you a mommy?" his pace began slipping and becoming sloppy as he felt his balls tighten and that feeling flutter in his stomach. "gonna cum, baby, gonna fill you to the brim." when your walls tightened around his cock and you reached your own climax, legs twitching around his neck and back arching off the bed, he gave a final deep thrust before emptying his load inside of you, his mouth detaching from your breast as his head tilted back.
it took a few moments until the ropes stopped and his cock began softening inside of you, his forehead resting on your collarbone with heavy pants coming from his lips. but, of course, since he had his mind set on giving you his baby, two rounds was obviously not enough (you’d already had a round prior), and his hips slowly started up again and he was hardening inside of you.
"did so good for me, sweetheart. i know you’re tired, but please. one more, i promise."
he definitely broke his promise that night, as it took a few more hours until sam could finally take off his headphones and not be met with the sounds of his favorite people planning to make him an uncle.
summary: follows the plot line of season 3, butcher has a long (purposefully) forgotten daughter with iffy relations which comes to light when Homelander is set for revenge via her life.
warnings: crazy daddy issues, dead mother (not becca), cuss words, soldier boy
read part 2 here!
word count: 5.4k+
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Butcher mumbled under his breath thinking out loud as he saw a recognisable figure approach the doorstep through the curtain blinds over the window, standing up from his chair, his mind going through heavy agitation as to however could this location to disclosed, to her off all people. His aggressive stride to the door turned heads. Both Hughie and Soldier boy looked up in the direction of the exit Butcher was taking, solider boy was unbothered and simply curious about the commotion however Hughie was stressed as if bracing for impact. “Get the fuck off this property.” Butcher announced as soon as he opened the door, the stranger still taking slow steps towards the porch.
“Listen—“
“Absolutely fucking not.” He barked, clearly in no place or interest to listen to the woman approaching him despite his warning.
“I did not come here by choice” there was an unsaid enlightenment in her voice a sense of no bargaining. Carrying herself up the small steps of the house with quiet precision.
“Not my bloody problem.” Bucther’s brows furrowed even further as if that was problem till then Hughie had already followed him outside. “Go back inside.” He told the lad who did not budge apparently.
“Well it is your problem because homelander knows.” She admitted almost like throwing out leverage, letting out a deep breath as she said it.
“Bullshit.” Butcher scoffed assuming she was bluffing.
The audacity the man had as to just believe otherwise for the things he had not planned ahead of. “He found me and I escaped-“
“He would not have let you escape. The cunt’s super.” Calling her bluff again, even if she was backing it up with genuine reasoning. What did he have to care for it?
“Exactly! But he did and both of us know I am not at the slightest keen to meet you so much so that I would make some absurd story like this up.” Clarifying her point she explained further, “he is out for blood and you know this.”
Butcher contemplated in a silent moment with himself as he stood there on the doorstep, not even offering her to come inside “Well, tough luck isn’t it?” He said tilting his head wanting to show the lass her way out on the same path she came in.
“Who are you again?” Hughie interjected at the whole scene in curiosity and concern, there were much less people from butcher’s past or even present who if re-met with him after a while didn’t go straight for his throat or the other way around.
“He will kill me.” Ignoring Hughie’s question she emphasised glaring into butcher’s eyes for a solution she expected him to provide, purely logical and devoid of concern.
“And I will be next in line. You can see me in hell.” Butcher scoffed, he did not want to get entangled in looking after a liability when they already had a nuke worth of ancient supe to look after.
“You know you won’t be, the shit ones always survive.” She spat back, if he had no buisness to help her out of the hell he dragged her into the least solace she could offer herself would probably be of a last word.
“The fuck did you say to me?” Butcher grew closer towering her, there was a threat in his body language. “Think you’re Lord Muck himself strutting around with your toffee-nosed beliefs huh? If anything you’re the shit one that survived”
“Fuck you” she shoved him with all the force in her enough for him to stumble back. Yet ever so offended he was quick to retaliate but did not. Not for the first time anyways, when she shoved him to the wall behind again, he paused grabbing her by her shoulders to make her stop pushing him; she wasn’t even holding back. Even as Hughie tried to place himself between the two Butcher did not falter. “Get your hands off of me-“ she yelled trying to shove back at him all the same.
“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.” Butcher said through gritted teeth as she struggled against his stern resolve, having her pinned against the wooden pillar of the porch. His fingers digging into the skin of upper arms harshly.
“You piece of shit—“ she tried to swing her hand right back at him and as successful as she was brushing her nails against his face, butcher was quick to duck still holding her in one place.
“Hey knock it off you two—“ Hughie kept trying to get between them but butcher did not let go off the woman and neither would she stop with her own lunges at him. In two minutes Hughie stood corrected internally, almost everyone introduced to butcher was out for his throat and likewise, at least in this case.
“The fuck’s going on out here?” A deep voice coursed through the commotion all the same but neither of them were able to distract themselves from it.
Eventually when she had tried to reach for his face again, Butcher swayed his head to the side and changing his grip from her upper arms to her wrists in one swift motion, he just wanted to make his point clear to her and he couldn’t do that with her trying to take a swing at him again and again. “You are a fucking nobody.” He told her glaring into her eyes, gripping both her wrists in an ungentle grip so he could emphasis on his point without having her trying a stunt at him. “And I will have nothing to do with you, especially now-“
“Let go off my hands.” She interrupted him, eyes fierce all the same as him but he did not.
“How many times I gotta the rinse filth of you down the drain before you stay gone?” For the man who had spent half of his own and all of her life pushing the nuisance that she was away from his life, it was tiring to be in the same cycle. Before she could lunge at him again because she certainly looked like she would, Soldier Boy grabbed Butcher off his collar away from her. His hands let go off the woman instantly as he was pulled back.
Hughie was quick to get in front of Butcher so he wouldn’t start again because out of practise and impulse he knew that Butcher most certainly could. Despite of himself, Soldier Boy got right in front of her too, his back facing hers as if she was of take cover behind him. As if she needed his cover. “I am in this mess because of YOU!” Exclaiming she pointed at Butcher over Soldier Boy’s shoulder.
“Join the fucking club. I could say the same ‘bout you” he could, perhaps only in retrospect and only in a far stretched retelling of his mess. She was responsible for everything in his life as a butterfly effect, as for him in hers there a direct and deliberate hand.
“No you can’t!” She bit back, overcome with agitation “Homelander burned my house, he almost killed me, all my accounts are frozen all because of YOU. I had to leave the state overnight to find you-“
“We will get you on the CIA black mission payroll.” Butcher came up with a resolve almost instantly, he wanted her gone with the same speed.
“What part of Homelander is going to kill me do you not get?!” She said, at her wit’s end with this man. The unwavering determination to overlook her life was second nature to him but this was about her survival.
“Hit the bloody road lass” he snarled meaning to end this song and dance right here.
“She’s staying.” The voice which wasn’t in this conversation, or going to be considered barked in a heavy tone as if leaving no room for discussion over his word. What was a stranger to him? He had no clue himself why he took it upon himself to interfere with the worst person’s business but well. He felt this odd inclination to her which was ever so confusing to him given these were barely the first of the moments he was laying eyes at her.
“And who asked you, captain fuck-knuckle?” Butcher immediately retaliated not even meaning to get into the motive this relic would have to side with her.
“If homelander’s after her he will get to her himself. I don’t want to go around everywhere with my cock in my hands because you two cannot find the wart to suck it.” As logical as it was to save himself the trouble of a back and forth trip to find homelander he did realise there was more to his eagerness than he let on but it wasn’t an introspection he wanted to put himself up for, not now at least.
“He is not wrong but who is she to Homelander to go extremes for himself?” Hughie tried to talk reason to Butcher hoping to find some answers for himself.
“A fucking nobody.” Butcher answered for nearly all to realise that she was more of a nobody to himself rather than Homelander.
“I am not asking for your help I am asking you to do right by me.” She scoffed, somewhere she did know none of the words would amount to nothing, if they were to they would have had an affect when she told him how her life was in danger or when she was a child and begged him to stay. It was white noise to him back then, it is still white noise now. “For once.”
“Just make your damn way inside” Solider boy losing his patience with this incessant back and forth leading nowhere, tugging her from her wrists from where she stood beside him he yanked her towards the doorframe to speed up the conclusion.
“Woah dont—” she was interrupted almost instantly.
“Dont put your fucking hands on her.” Butcher barked with a frown on his face at the inaction of her getting manhandled. His own disdain for her would not make him exempt from just any rando-relic old supe putting his grubby hands on her as he see fit.
Solider Boy, ever so unphased simply rolled his eyes at the exaggerated reaction. “Bottom line, she is staying.”
“I-I’ll show her around…” Hughie stepped in to back solider boy’s word without directly offending butcher even though it was not entirely possible.
“No. She is not staying.” Butcher emphasised not willing to budge.
“I will walk out of here and put myself on the first flight to London.” It was not a threat, her lost resort. To be depicted as a thought for butcher as his face clearly took it, she threatened to go to London to his parents’ place.
“You’re a right bloody nutter if you think fucking off to nan’s going to do you any good. Especially not with that psychotic old bastard.” Butcher clarified, for she did not know the extent of crazy his own father was and he would never let her go off to their place, ever.
“It’s either that psycho or this psycho because the one in the sky is after my life.” It was neither a surprise nor a misunderstanding to her that her own grandparents from his side were a bit improper. He never answered her questions about them when she was younger and she had grown old enough to piece it, on top of that…what proper set of parents could raise the crazy man that he was. He had forbade them from approaching her and all her life they had never been keen to. Having met them only when she sought out for them herself was also an experience ruined and interrupted by Butcher himself years back.
With a sharp intake of breath he had to cave in, “Fine.” He said through gritted teeth. “But this is temporary, you’re temporary.”
“‘Just like your dad’ they said.” Her comment earned a glare for him she did not care to take into account. However the comment was a lot for Hughie himself was a bit much.
“This is your daughter?!” Brows raised and eyes wide he questioned Butcher. “You never told us you had a daughter?”
“Well don’t go all Maleficent now. Your christening invite got lost in the mail.” Butcher snarked with a roll of his eyes as if he owed that information to anybody else, it was not even a problem up until now anyways, with one final glance at solider boy and her, he made his way inside brushing past Hughie somewhat harshly.
“Join the party Butcher Jr!” It was sort of amusing to Soldier boy, he couldn’t help but make the joke. The fact that some woman was willing enough to let butcher’s ugly ass near herself to even make this doll happen was hilarious.
Without a word or even a side eye she made her way inside, cross armed. Already a huge headache it was to have to deal with her father. The dramatic entrance of an interaction she just had with him and less unfeeling strangers did not help. The day went on and the safe house was not much to explore about, it was exactly as Mallory had been kind enough to brief her about. She had always been the better part of a guardian figure, growing up with a father who is Vought’s most wanted has its almost-get-kidnapped perks so Mallory was often heavily involved with her life even from afar.
What was a bit too much to know and also a shocker, thanks to Hughie is that the other stranger, was Soldier Boy. Not a regular Joe supe or a fellow agent, The Soldier boy. “You’re kidding me?!” She was whisper yelling as if solider boy could not pick up what her and the cum guzzler were gossiping about like teenage girls. “That’s him?”
“Yes and he’s agreed to help us with Homelander so I wouldn’t worry about it, if there is anywhere safe, it’s around him…” Hughie trailed off trying to help her feel grounded, she had a neat death experience at the hands of Homelander so it would be nice for her to know she was in the presence of a supe who actually could end homelander. If there was anyone, it was him. However as the words left his mouth he thought back to the man’s old fashioned characterisation of women and the general take, the liking he had… “well mostly.”
“Why wouldn’t he just kill you?” She asked confused, what reason had he to not act on his whim.
“In a way he could kill anybody.” Hughie conceptualised it vaguely because he couldn’t agree with her without g taking away fake assurance from her.
“But what about you?” She pushed further, “or me? Or-“ the word ‘dad’ died on her tongue so she just gestured her head to the other room where Butcher had exited.
“Count your stars, doll. I’ve always had a weakness for a pretty face” he answered for Hughie, even though the two were whispering with him across the room it was not quiet enough for him to not pick up on. “Keeps them from getting the shield in their teeth.” He said tilting his head at Hughie.
Is he talking to me. She thought to herself and her eyes asked Hughie the same, he did not seem too surprised by the blatant flirting. She was truly at a loss for words, not out of being wooed or a blush, it was concerningly odd. “What the fuck?” She mouthed to Hughie who simply shook his head in response.
“Come on.” He made a slow walk up to the dining area the two were sitting at and pulled a chair across her, he took her awkward taken aback stable bordering on disgust as her being totally swoon by him. “Haven’t these dickless little boytoys ever told you what a pretty face you have on those shoulders?”
“Wow okay no this is-“ she shook her head, he truly wasn’t joking. “Not happening.” She stood up crediting soldier boy being ever so out of touch perhaps with his long years of being away from a proper human civilisation. A small smile at Hughie and stealing her gaze away from Soldier Boy she left, the dining room to the two of them.
Soldier Boy checked her out shamelessly even as she was leaving the room, “They never can resist the uniform.” He scoffed, giving his two cents to Hughie on how women can be charmed.
—
The couch was not the most comfortable place to sleep, Butcher was not worth the quiet dignity she would lose in conversing with him, Hughie offered his cot but she did not want to be any more of a bother and that walking ancient nuke was a whole other story. Besides the living room was most accessible to other rooms should something happen at night. It had been a long trip as it is after a near death experience and the emotional turmoil of seeing her father again, exhaustion took over the need for comfort to fall asleep so she did.
It was a heavy sleep after all the crushing events one after the other. Just as easily consistent morning to be terrible as she was woken up by a deep voice she was yet to be familiar with, “Hey! Sunshine, wake up!” He shook her by the shoulder which finally did the thing. Her eyes were wide, not used to the scene around her or even him, “Your vibrator’s been going off the entire morning.” He couldn’t help but snicker, she did not look as someone who would be such a freak from within. And the modern toys. What a gift.
“What-?” The shock was so apparent to her, she felt as if she was still living out her weird dream and was yet to wake up. “My what-?!” Her eyes finally landed on the ‘vibrator’ he was referring to and it was her phone. “Oh for god’s sake” she sighed, somewhat relieved “That is my phone! It’s on vibrate by accident” she explained reaching out for it on the coffee table.
“A phone?” His eyebrows came together in a frown, confused “Phones can do all that now-?”
“No!” She clarified instantly “it’s just a normal phone, it does no such things just vibrates when the ringer is off.” For her own sake and characterisation by a man it mattered the least from, she still had to explain it. “Hello?” She picked up, going over the ten other missed calls from the same number. “What wait slow down-“ it was Hughie on the other end, on speaker with Butcher.
Butcher was whining about her not picking up the calls as they kept ringing her so, and proceeded to brief her the current action station. “Me? I have to do that-?” She asked barely adjusting her nervous system to being awake and now this, as if she were involved with the rest of them and not just an apparent victim of the circumstance. Solider Boy stood there piecing her panicked reaction without internalising it because he knew that nothing out there was fundamentally a threat to him as long as he was awake. Her getting all worked up over the call was probably Butcher and his side piece fucking plans up.
“Comprised?” She questioned the phone still to her ear talking over both of them on the other end, “so you knew this place was comprised and you left me for the dead?” Accusing, she stood up from her seat, which was a bed to her initially, on the couch. Her voice went quiet having no line to talk over Butcher as he explained that the two would not just leave their only weapon so unguarded and they had only just come to know about the comprise of the location. Even with Butcher telling her to “get yer asses out of the house” rent a car for a road trip to another location probably eight hours worth of drive the only thing that she registered enough to let it hurt was that he only mentioned that he would not leave their ‘weapon’ that was solider boy, unguarded. It
gained her belief that they just came to know of the location comprise but the fact that he would perhaps leave her for the dead if situation called for it was something she could not shake off.
Yet, the moment was too hurried to bring up on the phone call so she abided by the rental car’s plate number sent to her along with the next location as she cut the call only to be distracted almost instantly by his voice, “Not these fucking clowns.” He scoffed looking through the shades at the agents rounding up around the house.
She followed his gaze outside, her heart beating louder with panic every second. This was too fast since the phone call just ended and she was informed about leaving to avoid these guys. They did try to contact her ten times before, stupid silent mode. “Is there any tunnel here-? Bunker passage?” She said frantically looking around the AC vent and the small passages for a way out.
“We are not outrunning these fuckers doll they’re at the door.” There was a quiet confidence in his tone which simply translates to underestimation to her. He probably didn’t realise the V-agents could actually get away with their cold blooded murder.
“We have to get out of here—“ before she could even finish that sentence the main door got broken into with a loud kick followed by the thud of the door falling onto the floor.
A loud call to the two to freeze and bring their hands where the agents could see them. She obliged almost instantly as though that would save her life, as if cooperation has ever worked out. The men were all geared up with machine guns and everything up to a T. “You bunch of freaks walk out of here right this second and save us all the trouble.” Soldier boy declared not even making the slightest attempt of abiding with the demand of keeping his hands where the agents could see them.
She would have never imagined this is how she would die precisely but it seemed so, what does one even think for final moments. As she contemplated her fate, Soldier Boy was taking on the agents with…an ease she did not anticipate. Sure he was the most powerful supe of most but from what Hughie mentioned with the hibernation lab-rat period it was an assumption from her side that they probably drained the fight or powers to some extent that he would not withstand all these set of agents.
She stood corrected in a matter of seconds as he fought against their bullets as if they were a pin stab. Oh. The gravity and weight of his superpowers made their way to her grasp only then. No wonder he was the weapon against homelander, he rammed his shield through the last about to get to her before she could take over in a few moments, the edge of his shield made its way out through the man’s torso and grazed her own tshirt. An immaculate precision of the cut, the fatal blow of shield touching her as if a soft caress. Her tshirt had a patch of the agent’s blood as the shield had made its way through it.
“You good?” He asked gutting it out of the man carelessly as he lumped onto the ground. She barely had moment to register yet another near death experience and an astute grasp over who exactly Soldier Boy was. All those dead agents around the room and he didn’t even use his distinct powers yet. “Hey!” He called out impatiently wiping the blood of his shield, “we don’t have much time.” From where he stood her state of shock and despair was understandable but if only he had the time and patience to carry it out. The look on her face touching the blood off her clothes, the horror of it, “the blood’s not yours. Get a move on!” He directed hoping movement and hurriedness which their position did demand for, would do well for her.
The two made it to the rental car as referenced on the phone, “No.” He told her sharply as she tried to approach the driving seat. “You’re too out of it right now to drive.” As if he would trust a woman to drive otherwise.
He shot scattered glances at her as the two of them settled into the car, on their way out she had grabbed some jacket lying around. Wrapping it around herself to conceal the giant patch of blood on her shirt, he decided to not comment on it. “The fuck?” He mumbled trying to find the clutch in the car. “This thing’s incomplete!” He let out looking at the gearbox then back at the paddles. “Where’s the clutch? The gear shifts?”
“It’s an automatic” a numb composure, letting everything unprocessed be where it may for the time being she explained. “Gear-less. You don’t have to change it manually.” He looked at her shocked, the only thing in this entire ordeal which seemed to have an effect on him. At a loss of words he inspected the gearbox with the PNR and one missing paddle from the type of cars he was used to. “Look I can drive if-“
“No no” he held up his hand and started the car nonetheless. “What a fucking joke.” He pressed on the accelerator, same time as pulling the hand break down. “All cars are like these nowadays?” Flying cars would make more sense than this abomination. What is the point of being behind the while.
“Yeah most of them.” She shrugged, “it is more preferred.”
“Cuckold for cars.” He scoffed letting the ridiculousness of this gearless shame of an automobile drive the two of them across the state.
“What?” She asked a bit taken aback at the exaggeration and he just shook his head.
—
By the time they had finally arrived at the next motel stop, eight hours of relentless driving and not once did he let her take the wheel throughout. Despite the two gas station stops where he had to ‘pee the life out of his snake’ and bought ridiculous amount of junk, for a man of his size and deprived appetite it was befitting but still.
The motel only had one room assigned under the name Hughie had informed her to claim, overly spent by the events of the day she did not try to go against the logistics of booking another room, for the meantime “They’ll get here soon.” She told soldier boy as they settled into the room, switching on the lights.
“Ring him and tell him we need more of these.” He pointed at the soda he needed for his drinks.
“I can’t I discarded my sim remember?” She sighed, at one of the gas station stops she had remembered to let go of the sim in order to prevent being tracked. Not her first rodeo.
“Use the landline.” As if it was a big brainer.
Pressing for soda in the face of such a tragical part of life, only so much could be tolerated, “Will you just stop! Do you not understand what a mess all of this is! All you care about is fast food and drinking-and and—” she wanted to name more stuff but her own thoughts about everything else overpowered her verbal outburst.
He tilted his head, her outburst seemingly predicted yet her blowing up out of nowhere seemingly adorable, “Calm down sunshine, it’s not that big of a deal.”
“It isn’t?!” Out of breath her eyebrows raised up, pacing back and forth feeling as if her skin were on fire, she finally got around removing the jacket, the dried patch of blood she was wearing the jacket to conceal just highlighted her point even further, “Look! Look-! Fuck-this isn’t even my blood and it may not be a big deal to you—or-“ still could not bring herself to say dad, “or who you work with, but I have spent a lot if not all of my life dodging this exact thing. To be dragged back, I don’t—“ now that the jacket was off, the sight of blood, of man, men? She didn’t even know, the visuals of soldier boy fighting them off, the shield grazing her. Bodies turned into nothingness, entire existences, right by her eyes. She didn’t realise when tears pricked her eyes but she could not seem to feel composed even after what she let out, “I don’t want this.”
“Hey…hey” he took a step closer to her. Even internally he could not pretend to understand what she was going through because he didn’t, he couldn’t even conceptualise something so trivial to be such a horror as she explained it. Probably weaker and softer at heart than she looked, than her upbringing warranted for. “You’re alright.” Was the only thing he could tell her to soothe her fright to whatever fraction. “You will be.” He gripped her gently by both of her arms to steady her, the tears visible in her eyes along with her anguish. His own grip surprised him, a sweet lingering touch as if his own hands were afraid of what they were capable of, his own hands feeling bestowed with heavy feeling of getting to hold something so precious in a wretched moment.
Not fighting against his grip but at the same time she tore away from his gaze, looking down upon the stain on her shirt. It felt like a stain on the tapestry of her own life, she was not this person. “No no don’t look there.” He leant a bit lower to have her remet with his own gaze, “I don’t understand where you come from and I sure as shit won’t pretend I’m some green boy at the sight of blood. But if you’re afraid that it’s going to be your bloody over some pussyfooting Vought agent before pulling the trigger then you don’t gotta be. You are with me, and as long as you are with me no agents or cocksuckers from the sky will touch you.”
A deep intake of air did not seem to stop the waterworks, it was embarrassing enough as it is to even weep to him, the fact that she felt like letting out everything felt way worse. “I feel like I’m never going to get away from all this.” That came out along with a suppressed sob. The more she tried to shove it down it simply bubbled back up, all of a sudden it was everything running in her hands. The encounter with Homelander, the Vought agents, the parental term she couldn’t think.
“Come here” he was not wise enough for more words, even though that was not what he thought of himself. It was just the state of her which made him want to envelope her in his arms until she could feel grounded so that is what he did. Wrapping his arms around her, her crying out into his chest and for a moment he felt disarmed. A long forgotten relic to the world, used and thrown, but here with her in his arms, the realisation that he wasn’t nobody nowhere to the woman crying in his arms. He didn’t do much of sappy or even wishful thinking but if he allowed himself to, at least for now, she felt comfortable…with him. And she felt right, in his arms.
After a bit when she eventually pulled away he let go off her slightly but not completely as to have them be at a distance again, still standing close to her and his arms around her, their faces close. A quiet understanding as the two stared at one another, she felt confused at the familiarity and swaying her away from her desolation yet not unwanting. It was odd. This was odd, and yet she made no attempt to pull away from him even when his eyes moved down to her lips.
Before she could he burdened with that decision the door to the motel room opened revealed Butcher and Hughie welcoming themselves in, without a knock or warning. Instinctively she pulled away and at the sight of who it was, she created more of a distance. Solider Boy didn’t, he couldn’t be paid to have decorum.
Hughie was the first to sense the tension at the penetrating look Butcher had in his eyes. “We got the connecting room.” Hughie raised the key card up, as if to elevate the heightened sense of ill-feelings.
“Oh right I will-uh” a pace that could almost identify as a sprint she made her way towards the key card Hughie was holding up, “yeah thanks.” Excusing herself out of the room, to the next one she took her exit. The awkwardness was somewhat unaffordable.
This ought to be a long trip.
—
PART 2
Let me know if you want to be added in the taglist for next part!!!!!!!!
summary you get a new pair of pants, including a little surprise for your boyfriend.
words 1195
note yes. reader gets those jeans with the 'lucky you' under the zipper. I've seen them everywhere and I want a pair so I'm writing about reader owning one because I'm broke 😔 don't know if this is horseshit or cute. mind that English isn't my first language pls 🥹
masterlist
At first it had heen nothing but a coincidence. You'd been at the local thrift store for some new clothes - not just for yourself but for Sam and Dean, too.
After actually finding some decent jackets and shirts for the boys, you finally looked for yourself. There were few nice looking ones but you couldn't find your size so you kept searching. And then, you saw it. The perfect pair of jeans. Nicely washed out, material looking nice, low waist but not so far it would be impractical and most of all you saw the zipper when taking them into your hands.
Instead of just blank denim behind the zipper, it said ‘lucky you' with a four-leaf clover, the writing gold on wine red fabric. It's adorable. It's your size. And you just know Dean would have an aneurysm when he sees the little detail.
So, you go to the cash register and buy them.
You're at the motel you, Sam and Dean had been staying at for the most recent case not much later, clothes in two bags and purse under your arm.
When you open the door Dean is sprawled on the bed Sam had taken, eating what looked like greasy fries.
He grins at you and waves his hand, fingers shining with grease, “Welcome back, baby.”
You grimace, “Go wash your hands.” He pouts and looks offended, turning his hand to check what you mean and then biting back a sassy retort to instead say, “Will do when I'm done eatin’.”
“We were gonna get dinner and look for another case tonight?” You remind, unpacking the clothes to sort which brother got which. Dean watches you, still noisily enjoying what you're pretty sure are cold fries from yesterday's dinner. He shoves the last few fries into his mouth, sucks the salt off his fingertips, chews and then nods, saying a food-muffled, “yes, ma'am.”
You roll your eyes, albeit fondly, and dump the new clothes on Sam's duffle, assuming he's out for either a run or to stock up on some snacks for the road and stem your hands on your hips. The look you give Dean is enough for him to move of off Sam's bed with a grumbled complaint.
Instead of going to the small – definitely moldy – bathroom, he stalks over to you and wraps one arm around your waist, looking over your shoulder and at the small pile of clothes for him. Using the angle to his advantage he nips at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, then kisses up to your ear and finishes with sucking a hickey there.
You let him — not just used to his possessiveness by now but having learned to love it, too.
“These for me?” You just hum, rifling through the two jeans and one jacket to give him an overview. “Yeah, these are good. Thank you, angel,” he moves from his spot behind you, kissing the corner of your mouth as he moves past you and to the bathroom. He says something that you tune out because it's definitely TMI, then slams the door behind himself.
You roll your eyes fondly when he calls out an apology for slamming the door (something you had instilled in him not to do), then chew on your bottom lip in thought. Hm.
He's in the bathroom and judging by the look of the fries he will be in there for at least ten minutes…
With that thought you try on the cute jeans you had spoiled yourself with, surprised to find them fitting almost perfectly. They're almost mid rise but not enough to really be considered that, they sit tight but not painfully so around your thighs and are loose around your calves, typical straight fit. They do however accentuate your behind nicely, which you're sure Dean will take note of and appreciate.
With a satisfied little hum you sit down at the table and look through the newspaper for possible new cases.
Dean comes out a moment later, furrowing his brows deep in thought before tilting his head. “You changed your pants,” he notes, proud of himself to have noticed the small detail. It makes you chuckle and nod, “Bought these today. Thought they were cute.”
He makes a contemplative sound and gestures you to stand up and come over to where he's sitting on the edge of the bed. When you do his hands grasp your hips. “Turn around f’me, angel?” You do, weak to the needy but demanding tone in his voice.
“Fuck,” he grunts, definitely appreciating the view. “You like?” You ask, looking over your shoulder. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide and he licks his lips.
“My gorgeous girl,” he murmurs, kissing along the revealed skin of your belly where your shirt had ridden up. Smiling softly you run your fingers through his hair, waiting for his next move.
Expected but also totally unexpected he pops open the button on your jeans, then tugs down the zipper slowly. You see the exact moment that it registers what is imprinted on the inside of the zipper, his mouth opens a little and his one hand tightened on your hip.
“You tryin’ to kill me, baby?”
Grinning, “‘s a fun little detail, ain't it?” He groans as if you'd shot him, head falling forward and resting against your belly. He pushes his hand to the small of your back, mouthing at the sensitive skin of your abdomen, “Gettin’ me all worked up when you know Sammy's gonna be back any second.”
Biting your lip you make a punched out little sound, his mouth always putting you on edge. He grips the waistband of the jeans with both hands, fully ready to pull them down when the motel room door opens and Sam's ‘hello’ is interrupted by the sight of Dean's face burrowed in your stomach, your hands in his hair and the fly of your jeans open.
“Oh my God, guys. This is a shared space. Get a different room for that.” You snort, stepping back after Dean dutifully zips your pants back up and pats your bottom.
“Take it as an apology that I brought you new clothes?” he huffs but looks through the pieces you'd put on his duffle, ultimately saying thanks. Dean is still staring at you — more so the way you move in these lethal jeans — his eyes dark and his hands fisting the sheets.
It's a sight you couldn't withstand.
“Hey Sammy, Dean and I are gonna get dinner. D’you want a caesar salad?” There's a thumbs up and then you're being dragged out of the room with possessive hands gripping your waist. You're glad for the summer heat because Dean would not have let you waste another second by grabbing a jacket.
When you reach Baby he stops, breathing down your neck — literally.
“‘s that your gun or are you that excited to see me?” you tease and he nips at your shoulder in warning. “Get in the backseat, baby. Need to have a closer look at these new jeans.”
Oh, you're in for a ride judging by the look in his eyes.
⟢ MR. DUPLICITY — part 1 , part 2 in the works idk if I'l ever finish though ...
⤷ ゛when you see Dean for the first time after Sam came back from the cage and you are consumed by anger at the fact that he went back to some fling rather than who was right in front of him (you). ˎˊ˗
⟢ BLACK, BLUE, AND FUCK ME EYES
⤷ ゛a fight with dean leads to something more physical ˎˊ˗
⟢ JUST FOR FUN
⤷ ゛popular girl!reader tries to play the new kid, teen!dean, just for it to completely backfire. ˎˊ˗
── .✦ oneshots/drabbles/blurbs
⟢ Best Place on Earth
⟢ cockwarming older!dean
⟢ bimbo fashionista!reader
⟢ ride it cowgirl
SOLDIER BOY
── .✦ oneshots/drabbles/blurbs
⟢ Perverted thoughts about soldier boy
BEAU ARLEN
⤷ ゛nothing yet !!! ˎˊ˗
MARK MEACHUM
⤷ ゛nothing yet !!! ˎˊ˗
this blog is 18+, likes and reblogs appreciated !! inspo @/missmanlykink
A/N: prompt: “I have to keep my distance from you, I'm sorry.” taken from my list of prompts Here
Pairing: Tom Hanniger x GN!Reader
Read on ao3! Tag List
You find him by the edge of the old mine, where the fog rolls low and the trees whisper secrets too heavy for the wind to carry alone. The same place you used to meet when things were simpler—before hearts were ripped from chests and blood soaked the soil of your quiet town.
He doesn’t hear you approach. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t care.
“Tom.” Your voice is soft, barely more than the fog itself. But he tenses like you struck him.
He turns slowly. His eyes are rimmed in exhaustion, haunted and heavy, like he hasn’t slept since he came back. Maybe he hasn’t. Maybe sleep means surrendering to the version of himself he’s trying to bury.
“Why are you here?” His voice is rough, hollow.
“I should ask you that,” you say. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
He looks away, jaw tight. “There’s a reason for that.”
“I figured.”
Silence grows between you, thick and uneven, like the ground beneath the mine. You don’t trust it, and neither does he.
Finally, he breathes out, “I have to keep my distance from you. I'm sorry.”
You blink. It’s not that you didn’t expect it, but the words still cut. “Why?”
His jaw ticks. “Because when I’m around you, I forget what I’ve done. I forget what I could do.” He looks at you now, really looks, and you swear the pain in his gaze could break stone. “You make me want to believe I’m still good. But I’m not. I don’t know if I ever was.”
You step forward despite his words. “You don’t get to decide that alone.”
He steps back. “Don’t.” His voice is a rasp now, cracking under the weight of restraint. “Don’t make me need you more than I already do. Don’t make me hope. Because if I hurt you—if he hurts you—there’s no coming back from that.”
You freeze. Not because you’re afraid of him, not really. You’re afraid of how much of himself he’s losing just to keep you safe.
“You’re not him, Tom.”
He laughs, a hollow, bitter sound. “Aren’t I?”
“No. You’re fighting him. Every second. That counts for something.”
He looks down, hands clenching at his sides. “Not enough.”
You reach out, brushing your fingers against his knuckles.
“It’s enough for me.”
He breathes like he’s drowning. And maybe he is. But for a moment, his hand turns under yours. Grips back. Then he lets go. And walks away.
jensen’s in his flannel, arm slung over the couch and silently admiring the life he’s built. from the kids laughing upstairs to the flour on your cheek as you pad in from the kitchen, barefoot. needless to say, he’s pretty happy with the suburban dad life.
ഒ ﹒SCENARIO BELOW
"sweetheart?"
your husband's voice drifts in from the living room. you wipe your hands on a dish towel as you pad out of the kitchen, the scent of cinnamon still clinging to your sleeves.
he’s sunk into the couch, one arm thrown lazily over the backrest as the glow of the tv flickers across his flannel shirt. the deep rumble of football commentary blends with the occasional thud and laughter from upstairs— your kids in their own little world.
he turns to face you, his lips curling into a relieved smile, like your mere presence is enough to fill him with joy. "hey pretty girl." he purrs, voice wrapped in that gorgeous warm, texas accent you love.
"hi baby." you grin toothily, looking up momentarily as you hear your kids banging around in their rooms with loud giggles.
"the guys wanna go golfin' tomorrow-" he starts with a deep drawl of his texas accent, readjusting the baseball cap on his head. he pauses, though, when he notices the bit of flour stuck on your cheek, letting out a manly chuckle as he points it out, brushing his own cheek in the same spot. "whatcha bakin', honey?"
bot reqs are open!! my c.ai is @dollyfetti, same as here :3
summary : after denying you were pregnant , despite the very obvious signs , you finally took a test. don’t panic , but.. congrats!
warnings : fluff , slight smut , pregnancy , happy ben , lmk if i missed any
part one , part two
Over the course of around a month and a half, your mornings had been spent hurled over the rim of the toilet and puking up what you had eaten the day prior, sometimes when you hadn’t even eaten. You brushed it off at first, claiming that it must’ve just been something you ate at a restaurant Ben took you to or something, after all, it was a restaurant you two hadn’t tried before.
Then came the swelling after the second month. You didn’t even it until you were in missionary one night and Ben had pressed down on your stomach to feel the outline of his cock, only for his brows to furrow as he felt your stomach a little rounder than usual. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the extra fat, apparently it gives him more to hold onto when fucking you stupid, but he knew that the firmness on your stomach wasn’t there before.
It was like his eyes lit up and entire demeanor switched all of a sudden. In the back of his mind had always been the thought of getting you pregnant, giving you a mini-him (or you) that caused mayhem as they ran around the living room. So, when he felt your stomach and remembered the puking every morning, that idea of breeding you immediately shot forward and became the only thing his mind focused on.
"Alright, how long were you gonna hide this from me, huh? Thought I wouldn’t find out?" His gruff voice abruptly cut through the moans and sound of the headboard smacking against the wall, hips slowing until they came to a painfully slow and steady pace.
It was like a bomb went off with how quick you went quiet, your eyes snapping open and focusing on his own that were still sparkling. Your back flattened against the sheets from its arched position, your fingers uncurling from their tight grip on the pillows. "What are you talking about?"
Ben rolled his eyes and leaned down so his forehead rested against your own, breath tangling with yours when he spoke again. "The pregnancy, doll. When were you gonna tell me?" His lips curled into a smirk when he saw your surprised face, one hand reaching up to wrap your thigh around his hip. "Don’t act all shocked now, you knew and weren’t gonna tell me."
".. Ben, I’m not fucking pregnant."
"Honey, I think I know when a lady’s pregnant. You know many I’ve knocked up—"
"I don’t wanna hear about that when you’re still balls deep inside of me."
Ben chuckled at the sharpness in your tone, knowing how you felt whenever he brought up anything sexual from his past, whether it was just a girl flashing him or him getting women pregnant. Obviously, he made them get rid of it. A kid would’ve gotten in the way of his career, and he didn’t want America’s Greatest Supe to slow down just because he got greedy (👀👀).
After the little pregnancy talk, and your quick defense to shut up him up, you both quickly forgot about it and went back to fucking like rabid rabbits, the pace quickly speeding up aswell as the decibels of your moans and his grunts. Well, you forgot about it, Ben didn’t. After that night it was practically glued to his brain, even if you had shut the idea down immediately.
Despite his past of knocking up women and making them get an abortion, that idea didn’t even cross his mind when it came to you, for some odd reason. It wasn’t really an odd reason, to be honest, you two were together and had been for almost a year. The past girls were all just flings or one night stands.
Instead, when he thought of it with you, he found himself unable to think of anything but keeping it. Maybe it was the fact he was actually in love with you, or maybe it was the fact that he had lived 107 years (40+ incapacitated) and hadn’t once known what it was like to be a father. Most of the reason he hadn’t yet been a father was because he was afraid he’d become like his own, something he couldn’t bear to do with you.
But, if you were actually pregnant, he silently vowed to himself to be there. He’d always be there for you and his child, show up to every parent teacher conference at school, watch them graduate and head off to college. He wanted to be the father he wished he had and give his kid the childhood he only dreamt of.
Not even a week later, you got a test, mainly due to Ben’s persistent nagging for you to take one just for precaution. You knew how giddy he was for you to realise he was right all along and you were actually pregnant with his kid, but you had your whole faith in the fact you were just bloated from eating alot lately.
That was another thing: the cravings. It could be midnight and you’d still be on the couch stuffing your face with snacks or full course meals, other times you’d be fast asleep in bed, snoring away without a care in the world.
Ben didn’t mind the cravings, even if he was the one who had to drive to the stores and back just because you wanted a specific kind of snack at 10 am. In fact, he found it amusing and endearing, something he told you on many occasions. He’d said you looked like a squirrel with it’s cheeks full of nuts one time, and you gave him the most adorable side eye he’d ever seen, even if you throw a tv remote right at his head.
When you finally decided to do the test, he was sitting on the edge of the bed while you were in the bathroom doing whatever for the past 10 minutes. You’d gotten multiple sticks just to make sure you weren’t pregnant, something you were absolutely adamant on, and you’d had to piss in a cup so there’d be enough for each stick.
His knee was bouncing uncontrollably, elbows resting across his knees as he impatiently waited for you to be done. He’d been impatient ever since you got home from the store, his mind swivelling and the need to prove you wrong stronger than ever.
"Cmon, doll, can’t be hard to piss on a few sticks. Took you quicker that one time when I had you bent—"
Before he could finish, the door to the bathroom swung open and you stood there in all your glory. He would’ve rolled his eyes and made an ‘about damn time’ joke, but it would’ve fell flat as soon as he noticed your teary wide eyes and his own locked onto the three sticks in your hand.
The cross on two and the "positive" on the other stared back at him like he won the lottery, and it some cases, he did, but the lottery was the life everyone dreamt off as a kid. And now, he was gonna have his own kid that would have that fantasy in a few years.
"Holy shit.." The words left his lips before he could stop them, his features now matching your own shocked ones, slowly standing up from the bed to make his way over to you. Once he was towering over you, accidentally due to how tall he was, he gently took the sticks from your hand, ignoring the disgusted look you gave him when he grabbed the ends with piss on, examining the tests in extreme detail.
He wasn’t angry or upset, oh, fuck no. He would genuinely think something was wrong with him if he wasn’t happy with the news. The grin that spread across his face reminded you of the cheshire cat, and you had to bite your lip to stop your own grin when you saw the childlike giddiness in his eyes, the same eyes that made others almost wet themselves in both arousal and fear.
But, when those stupid words left his lips next, you rolled your eyes and fought the urge to smack him upside the head.
"We’re having triplets??"
"No, you fucking idiot. Just one. Well.. I don’t know! We haven’t had the ultrasound yet, so."
Ben’s grin faltered as he blinked a few times before just letting out a quiet ‘oh’, only for a few moments though, as that grin was immediately back on his face. Before you had the time to react, you were swept off of your feet and had to wrap your legs around his waist to stay up, a squeal leaving your lips until it was cut off when his lips crashed against yours.
You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, his mouth swallowing your giggle as his hands squeezed your ass, only pulling away to get air a few moments later, the positive tests laying abandoned on the floor. You rested your forehead against his, lightly panting, eyes gazing deep into his.
The love in his eyes almost made you collapse right then and there as he stared back at you, a soft smile curled in the edges of his lips, your hands now playing with the hair that dangled down the back of his neck. "We’re gonna be parents, baby. I’m gonna be a dad."
You mirrored his smile and nodded in response to his words, confirming what he already knew from that day, the day that you had firmly denied being pregnant and have ever since. Now, your words were thrown back at you as you looked down at the sticks laying on the floor, your foreseeable future right there in just two crosses and a single word.
"Yeah, we are. You’re gonna be the best damn dad they could ever have."
a/n ;
cranked this out in an hour or two with too long of a break inbetween
DOM!dean winchester who holds a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans when you two have sex in the bed beside sam, muttering a "shh, sweetheart. you don’t wanna wake poor sammy up now, d’you?" in your ear before nipping at your neck. when you nod and look at him with those teary eyes, he’ll smirk and kiss your forehead softly, a stark contrast to his thrusts that were destroying your cunt. "good girl." if sam does awake when your in a compromising position, your face will flush and you’ll give him an apologetic smile, while dean would just smirk and tease that "you missed all the fun, brother."
DOM!dean winchester who had to be touching you at all times, whether it was a hand on your waist, on your thigh, his foot grazing yours under the table, or literally just his pinky intertwined with yours when walking the streets. sometimes it was possessive, like he was letting everyone know you already had a partner, but other times it was different. you think those times were him just making sure you were there and still by his side, that you weren’t gonna leave him alone. you always let him, allowed him to take the comfort he craved in any way.
DOM!dean winchester who never lets you pay for your own drinks, food, or anything else you desired, despite you insisting time and time again that you earned your own money and could pay for it yourself. did he listen? absolutely not. he’d always act like he was deaf when you’d tell him, looking around absentmindedly before cutting you off by talking about something completely off topic. you shake your head and let him yap away, occasionally chiming in, unable to fight the smile creeping it’s way onto your face.
DOM!dean winchester who will twist your hair into a ponytail and tug it back when he’s balls deep inside of your inner walls, taking you from behind, his free hand raising and landing a hard smack on your ass every few minutes. he loved the way you’d whine at his palm striking your cheek, panting like a bitch in heat while he drove into you, your hands digging into his shirt that your face was buried in. he liked to have his clothing shoved in your nose whenever you had sex, so that when whenever you moaned and took a deep breath for air, all you could smell was him. all of your senses were him.
DOM!dean winchester who has you on your knees beneath the table if your out having dinner at a restaurant, which usually only happened on anniversaries or special occasions, his cock buried in the warmth of your mouth, tip hitting deep in your throat. he may try to keep his noises down, but he can’t help the groans that left his lips when you’d whimper around his length, your hand fondling his balls. his hand is tangled in your hair and pushing your head down until your nose was against his trimmed hairs, a low curse coming from him when he spills his load down your throat and you swallow it all.
DOM!dean winchester who dishes out the best aftercare once he’s done rearranging your insides so they’re molded in the shape of his cock. he’ll grab a towel that he kept bedside for nights like these and wipe the mess from between your legs, throwing it in the hamper along with the bedsheets. once the sheets are changed and the bed is now clean, he’ll lay down and bring you into his arms, resting your head on his chest. his fingers draw lazy patterns on your sides as he whispers praises in your ear, kissing the top of your head: "did so good f’me, sweetheart", "love you so much", "my good girl, aren’t you?"
