I made a tier list of possible (according to me only, don’t take it too seriously) closures to deancas storyline in the last two episodes because I’m slowly going insane and I need to be mentally prepared for the worst. I’m going to honk my big red clown nose as loud as I can if we end up getting anything below the B tier.
teenaged gas station clerk dean winchester. one of those stations that's attached or adjacent to a real small auto shop, the only one in town, with a name like "paul's garage" or "comisky automotive". teenaged dean in his company logo short-sleeve button down and his little plastic name tag with DEAN pinned to his chest. teenaged dean with his open bag of corn nuts and strawberry kiwi slurpee on the counter behind the register, letting sam camp out in the back room with his pre-algebra textbook and bottomless refills on raspberry slushies that'll turn his baby brother's tongue radioactive toilet-bowl cleaner blue. teenaged dean selling dip and fountain drinks and funyuns and porno mags in little brown paper sleeves. teenaged dean whose hands always smell a little bit like dirty pennies and spilt diesel. teenaged dean popping his gum and doodling in magic marker on the rubber toes of his sneakers and and shooting wadded up recipets into the wastepaper basket. teenaged dean mopping the floors and locking up for the night and herding a half-asleep sammy out to the impala where she's parked 'round the back in the EMPLOYEES ONLY lot behind the store.
supernatural's "no reward for suffering, but always a punishment for pleasure" logic is so interesting 2 me.
winchester branded heroism is renunciation of comfort. they are good because they are poor, because they bleed, because they sleep in a car and eat badly and have nothing that is theirs. the moment either of them reaches for something that feels good the narrative punishes them for it. sam wants an education. dean wants a normal life. they are clowns when they sleep too much, want sex, or indulge in food because haha dean eat burger and pie. Reward is either rejected or comic relief.
the only acceptable wanting the Winchester brothers are permitted is wanting to save people. desire is fine if it's dressed as duty. love is fine on the condition that it looks like crucifixion.
cas wasn’t there the minute dean was resurrected because after rebuilding deans body cas was so hot and bothered that he needed his first lobotomy to refocus on the mission
SYNOPSIS: dean asked questions he should’ve kept to himself. and most importantly, he had been coy about it. idiot.
CHARACTER: older!male reader x dean winchester
NOTE: mmm, countertop sex.. part ²? yes? maybe yes.
WC: 0.5k
TAGS: age gap,, rough sex,, countertop sex,, kitchen sex,, bottom dean,, top reader,, anal,, unprotected sex,, light masochistic dean,, first time anal,, big dick reader,,
“o-oh, yea—mmff, fuck—” dean gasped out, a loopey grin spreading across his face.
have you ever had sex with a man?
“oh my fuckin’ go-ohd—” his fingers tightened around the edge of the marble countertop. your countertop.
what’s the youngest you’d go?
“mmh-mmm-ah shit!—” the back of dean’s head hit the marble, though he paid no mind to it. the pleasure was so intense that the pain didn’t even register.
what about a guy in his twenties? would ya shag him?
you still remember the grin on his face when he asked that.
“ghhh-sonovabitch..” his voice was higher pitched. slurred. broken, even. shirt bunched up to his chest. he shivered violently when your teeth just barely grazed his pulse point.
“god—fuck—please—” such a pleading tone. he was begging.
“please what?” you whisper, eyes flitting up to his face, fingers digging into the skin of his thighs like a brand, rough yet grounding. there. definitely not meaningless. “you wanted this. now take it.”
dean whimpered before a sob tore out from his throat, head thrashing around against the marmoreal stone, hips stuttering, cock twitching—untouched, leaking, aching. neglected. just barely rubbing up against your abdomen.
your pace fastened, not by a lot, but enough for dean to arch his back and struggle against your hold. his thighs quaked, legs hanging off of the counter, toes curled.
you were big. thicker than he anticipated. first time with a guy and he was already getting stretched to fucking oblivion. he felt full. it hurt, of course it did, but what was dean if not a masochist.
with a broken, loud moan, he willed his shaking body to meet your relentless, sharp thrusts. his ears were ringing and he could barely even hear himself, the only thing clearly audible was the sound of skin slapping against skin.
“you—you told me i could ask you- a-ah—anything..” he panted out, glossy eyes barely open as they locked onto yours.
“…and look where it got you.”
your response was simple, almost mocking. with a deliberate roll of your hips, you had dean’s eyes rolling into the back of his head, mouth falling open in a soundless gasp as he bared his neck.
the brutal drag of your cock inside him made his brain turn to mush. he clenched around you, involuntarily of course, just because his imagition was conjuring filthier images. he couldn’t help it. the thought of you fucking him whenever you wanted wherever you wanted? it practically made him salivate.
“dean.”
he keened. at the sound of his name on your lips, he fucking keened. desperately so, like he was just happy you were acknowledging him. and maybe he was.
“dean,” you repeated, moving a hand to pat his face before gripping his jaw. “eyes on me.”
oh you didn’t have to tell him twice. you had that quiet authority, one that made others do exactly what you asked with no need to reiterate. dean loved it. he craved it.
his hazy eyes locked onto your own.
“you with me, space cadet?”
always, he wanted to say. but he bit it back with a choked groan, in response only nodding his head, though the action was barely noticeable.
“say yes.”
“ngghhh—” his thighs tensed as you stopped your thrusts, his hole pulsating around you. “sorry—yes—fuhhcck… uuh-hh..” his pretty face was flushed pink, right from the tips of his ears down to his chest. and he glistened with sweat—how gorgeous.
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