#its bad

Evan, who is a mama's boy in the sense that no matter how insanely his mother treats him he will never leave her because she can't help it and that's his mama.

he carries the weight of a man who's lived twenty different lives and has finally chosen a soft one. where thick straps of muscle are layered in warm bread and butter. where hair furls in wiry curls across the brawn of his chest and his plum under eyes are replaced by sunspots and creases. where he is tender metal.

anyone who'd spent the grisly duration of a covert knew he'd earned it. he was the last to admit it, but it'd be a pointless lie to say he didn't enjoy aspects of the quiet.

but good lord, he needed a fucking project.

it's a decades old itch. couldn't put it out with cigars, or whiskey, and even rugby couldn't hold his attention for too long. he needed a tangible, ironclad cause. something to keep his mind sleeping when his body couldn't.

to his delight, you, in all your flushed cheek glory, delivered yourself to his door. his solution- under the limited contract of the "damn pipes" that gave you so much trouble.

his tinkering takes longer than it should have- the damage wasn't extensive. at first, the reason he laid on a back that cracks like firewood for so long is because it felt good to be useful. hands caked in underbelly grime, molding the pigeon feather pipes into a lasting practicality.

but then his hands held your baked muffins that you sheepishly offered in return for his help. the basement railing that was peeling off the wall like paint. the door handle that felt loose when he opened the door to leave.

suddenly, he was returning for a completely different reason.

secretly obsessing over how your floral aprons might look over a swollen belly when you fuss over the door handle of the guest bedroom.

he nods, half listening as he reimagines it as a nursery.

working on a wings of fire island!! man its been YEARS since i last posted about wof lol. more designs on the way once they stop fighting me so much

(screenshots below the readmore)

bf’s dad!dean winchester x reader (18+)

part 2: drunk words are sober thoughts

warnings: infidelity, briefly mentioned age gap, outdoor sex, cream pie (wrap it up guys)

wc: 2.7k

note: thanks for 1 follower guys i hope whoever it is likes this! kisses :3 also i don’t condone cheating don’t cheat on your partners guys! unless their dads are dean winchester ig, which i doubt will be… wink

You’d been dating your boyfriend for almost a year. He was sweet, kind. Perfect in every way. You’d never been treated so well by anyone before. Compared to your exes, he was a goddamn angel.

So where did that leave you?

The hunt ended almost half an hour ago. You were sitting on the steps of the old, run down house. The wood was rotting, termites had eaten most of the foundation. The cold air was making your skin freeze up beneath your sweater, the adrenaline having wore off a while ago. The ghoul wasn’t too bad, only took about a week to get everything set through and through.

You hugged yourself tightly, staring out at the forest surrounding you. The moonlight shone through the brush of trees just enough to illuminate your vision.

Adam had gone out a while ago. Something about getting snacks from the gas station, though the nearest one was about an hour away. “Anything for my princess”, he’d said, kissing your cheek before his father reluctantly let him take the Impala.

His father.

Dean was nice. He was handsome, incredibly so. No one could match that charm. His short, ivy league hair and bright green eyes that could pull you in for a loop if one weren’t careful. You weren’t proud of it, but there’d been countless times that you’d zoned off on trips thinking about him instead. What it’d be like to drive in the Impala with Dean, not his son. To have Dean’s hand on your thigh, to have Dean’s fingers inside you, to have Dean’s skin on your skin at night.

“You doin’ alright, kid?”

Your thoughts were broken apart by a deep, familiar voice. Instantly you were perked up and looking over at him. Your lips parted like you were going to say something, and you really were if it hadn’t been for how beautiful he looked standing there with a beer in his hand. He always kept a cooler with them in the trunk and had taken it out before Adam left.

You smiled and straightened up, wiping your palms on your jeans. “Yeah, I’m fine. No worries around here.” You chimed. Dean gave you his familiar, lopsided smile. Charming as ever. “Need company?” A nod. “Sure.” The wood creaked beneath your bodies as he walked over and sat down on the stairwell beside you. He did that man-spreading thing he always did, beer dangling idly in his grasp.

He made a face of realization, cursing under his breath. “Shit. Should’ve asked if you wanted one.” A sigh. His body tensed as he prepared to stand. “D’ya want one?” You sheepishly shook your head, squaring your feet together and smiling as your boots knocked against one another. “Oh! No, I’m fine. Thank you, though, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes, the formality setting him off on the same tirade he always went on. “Damn it. You don’t haf’ta call me that, sweetheart. Just Dean. You never learn, do you?” He joked, taking a swig of his beer. He was still staring at you the whole way, and you stared back, heat rising up your neck. You watched the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

He was really fucking hot.

And so was hell, actually, which is where you’d be going if you kept lusting over your sweet boyfriend’s dad.

You blinked back to your senses and laughed nervously, turning your head away from him to keep staring back at the trees as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. “Yeah. I know. Sorry, I’m just- y’know- it feels weird.” You stammered, cheeks brushed a sweet shade of pink now. It definitely wasn’t from the cold, but you hoped he didn’t notice.

Your eyes wandered back towards him and he was staring right back at you. It was probably, no, definitely just because you were talking. You looked away.

The silence stretched on between you two for the good part of five minutes before you opened your mouth to speak. It was awkward, yes, but you felt worse just sitting in silence, especially when he was so close.

“So, um, ghouls.. ghosts..” You managed. You sounded like a dying mouse, voice cracking from dehydration. You winced at yourself when he laughed. Dean leaned back on one arm and offered his beer up. “Drink. You sound like a dying cat, yeah?” Your fingers wearily outstretched towards the glass, fingertips brushing against each other as you grabbed it from him.

You took one sip, eyes squeezed tightly while it went down your throat. It was a bit warm and bitter now, but not horrible. He smiled. “Better?” He took the glass back from you and watched your expression, from the little circular indent on your lips to the crease between your brows as you stared at him. He really shouldn’t’ve been staring, but he was.

“So, ghosts, you asked?” He knocked back the rest of the beer. You felt a little buzz in your chest at the thought of the indirect kiss you’d just shared, although that was childish. You weren’t a teenager, damnit. You were 23 years old, for crying out loud! Four years rid of the -teen suffix. You nodded. “What about them?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Dunno. Do you encounter them often?” You asked, outstretching your hands on your knees until you were hunched forward again. “Just curious. Unless you’ve got other interesting small talk?”

“Nah. They’re fine.” Dean set the glass behind him. “I mean, I’ve encountered enough of them. One time, me and my brother, we thought these people had one in their house. Turned out to be these inbred kids. Sad shit, y’know?”

The corner of his eyes creased at the memory. It was indicative of some fondness towards that memory. You nodded alongside him, staring dutifully at his side profile. He looked like a dream.

“Ghosts and stuff are all sad, vengeful things. Need’ta pass on. Hold on too hard. They go bump in the night.. crawling up on you when you’re sleeping, showering, doing whatever you do. Next thing you know it’s got you.”

His voice was getting off into some sultry territory now, the low rasp coming out unconsciously. He didn’t know it, but you’d started shifting uncomfortably because of it. The pleasure that his voice brought you was more sinful than anything you’d experienced before.

You let out a breath. “Yeah?”

Dean glanced back at you, turning his head. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Something about his demeanor changed. You couldn’t place it, but it did. A smile formed on your face to encourage him to continue.

“I mean, shit. There’s ghosts and ghouls and everything you can think of anywhere. Except unicorns.”

“Unicorns? Really?”

“Seriously.”

You snorted in amusement. Your body scooted closer to him as the wind blew harder, his warmth radiating off onto you like a heater. It drew you in. He didn’t move away. You squeezed your fingertips in the palm of your hands before making any kind of other moves.

You were going to hell for this one. That was for sure.

You leaned over, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder. Your cheek pressed against his arm, a tingle running up your spine from the closeness. He still didn’t move. He did smile, though, a bit nervously, but it was a smile. “Cold?” He mused, shifting stiffly to accommodate your body against his. You hummed softly. “..Cold.”

Silence once more.

You almost didn’t catch it, but you swore his breathing was getting shallower with every passing moment you stayed planted just like this. You bit your bottom lip, hands sliding up his arm until you hugged it to your body. Dean couldn’t help himself, not when you were being so sweet all of a sudden. He moved his arm over, allowing his hand to rest on your knee.

“Dean?” You murmured, lifting your chin and propping it on his muscle. He looked over at you, cheeks a little flushed. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“..Do you want me?”

The world froze. The wind stopped, and so did the sound of his breathing. You swore your heart stopped beating, too, for just that short moment.

He almost laughed it off, and he’d always been fine with lying, but you were just.. he didn’t know how to describe it. You were looking at him with these sweet puppy eyes that he could never seem to turn away from. So he answered honestly. “Maybe.” He murmured, hand squeezing your kneecap gently. “But we shouldn’t. You know why.”

There was no way you’d turn away from this opportunity right now. X was marking the damn spot right now, the red sea was parting for your boat! Dean Winchester, the sexiest man alive, was right there at your fingertips. You’d be stupid to turn away. God was presenting you with an offer you couldn’t refuse.

“I know.” You squeezed at his arm in turn, sliding one hand down towards his at your leg. “But, I mean, we have time, right?” You murmured, brows creasing. You turned your body towards him. “I-It’s not.. so bad.. Family shares stuff, yeah?” You smiled sheepishly. Mentally you were knocking yourself upside the head for saying something so stupid. Dean laughed at that. He could tell you were nervous as hell, could practically feel it radiating off your body and seeping out of all your pores.

“Family shares? That’s your pick-up line?” He joked. He mimicked you, turning his body towards yours. His hand slid up your leg, brushing against your upper thigh and the waistband of your jeans. His hand was large and hot like a fire, the warmth spreading throughout your body. “Luckily it’s working, you fuckin’ minx.”

You felt his mouth on you immediately, lips warm and soft. Your whole body locked up with excitement. His hands rode up your waist, squeezing the skin of your stomach and sliding his hands up towards your ribcage. His thumbs pressed against the underside of your breasts, squeezing the soft mounds over your clothes. Your arms lifted around his neck, squeezing him and clawing at his shirt.

This is what you needed. The warmth of his body on yours, feeling him lift you up and over onto his lap. The way his hands groped at your ass through your jeans. Your clit was throbbing through your pants, every time he rolled you forward against his hard-on it rubbed against the seam.

“Damn, sweetheart, you’re like a rabbit.” Dean groaned against your lips, lolling his head to the side when he felt your mouth trail down to his neck. Your breath was hot and your tongue lapped at his skin, nails anchored against his back as you rutted on his bulge. He was extra appreciative of that gesture, your sweet kisses pulling these extra soft moans from his lips.

You looked up at him doe-eyed and sweet all over again. “Feels good?” Dean nodded half-lidded, immediately reeling you back in for another kiss.

He felt like he’d waited ages for this. To feel your everything on his everything, to experience the excitement of kissing you and absorbing your being. And yes, it was wrong. The worst thing he’d ever done in his life, the worst sin to ever commit: to betray his own son, his flesh and blood, just to feel your soft skin on his. Not that it felt horrible.

A squeal left your mouth when you were lifted and flipped onto the porch, back pressed against the cold wood with your legs around his waist. One hand fumbled at the buckle of your jeans while the other held your hip down. You smiled at him coyly, allowing him to maneuver your legs every which way to peel your jeans off and toss them behind you.

Dean rubbed your bare thigh gently, admiring your smooth skin. Unblemished, untouched. Soft as cotton or silk. You stared at his expression. He looked like he’d just discovered gold. He kissed the inside of your thigh, biting down softly at the flesh. “Wish we were in a bed or somethin’, y’know that?” He murmured. “God, you deserve so much more than this right now.”

“I-I don’t care.” You exclaimed, lifting yourself up on your elbows. He looked at you so sweetly. If you weren’t absolutely soaked before, you absolutely were now. “I want you, Dean. Please. Now. I can’t take it anymore..”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

A sweet young thing like you staring at him with stars in your eyes and your legs spread for him like that? He was gone.

Dean unbuckled his jeans quickly, still holding onto your leg with one hand. His hand slid under your knee and pressed it against your chest as he pulled his cock out, pants and underwear down just enough to free it. He was beautiful. Pale and pink at the tip, one crooked vein going up the side and it curved a little to the right. You were salivating just looking at it.

“Y’like what you see?” He mused, grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing it against your folds. It slid up and down easily, you were so incredibly wet from grinding on him earlier. “Please, Dean, hurry, stop doing that..” You whined, whipping your hair out of your face. You looked down between your bodies, biting your bottom lip at the sight. “You need it? Yeah?” He was mocking your desperation now, angling the tip right at your hole. Gently, he pushed it in, choosing not to go all the way until you were begging.

It was a slice of heaven, just feeling that inside you. You begged softly, arching your lower back, desperately trying to suck him in. “Please! You- you’re such an ass!” You moaned. He didn’t succumb although he desperately wanted to. You just looked so cute, he didn’t want it to end yet. “Dean, for fuck’s sake—!” You choked on your words with a gasp, rolling your head back when he finally thrusted his hips all the way and immediately bottomed out once he was inside you.

Dean moved his hands to hold onto the side of your thighs, using them as an anchor to thrust into you. You were sucking him in so hard he could barely even pull out at first. His tip kissed your cervix like it was trying to makeout with it, hitting it expertly every time. He groaned and started thumbing at your clit, rubbing soft circles against your needy little bud. Your toes curled inside your boots, body dropping back onto the floor. Your head rolled to the side, cheek pressed on the cold wood and your hair splayed out around you.

Dean leaned atop of you, his thrusts slow but heavy. You sobbed with pleasure, brows furrowing from the sensations. They were all new and beautiful—you’d never felt like this with anyone else. He kissed your cheek and trailed down to your neck, one hand pressed down beside your head. “Feel’s so good, sweetheart. ‘m I making you feel good? He ever made you feel this good, baby?” He murmured, nipping at the skin of your neck until there was a soft reddening mark. You lousily shook your head. “N-No, no, feels so, so good. Wanna.. wanna cum so bad..” Your hips rolled to match his thrusts, but they faltered with every circle to your clit. You became a blubbering mess.

“M’gonna cum, okay?” Dean groaned, sitting up and sliding his hands to your hips. You cried out with frustration at the loss of pleasure, all that built up tension in your clit was just about to snap before he stopped. “Y’re gonna cum with me, sweetheart. Gonna put it deep inside you so you feel me all the way home.” He managed. His voice became more and more strained with every thrust, his own orgasm reaching its climax.

He gave a few final thrusts until he spilled inside you fully. “Holy fuck!” You sobbed, back lifting off the floor as you came. Your body tensed until it was over, his thumb reaching over to rub you through it comfortingly.

He splayed his hand over your stomach, pressing down while he pulled out. His focus was on the way his cum dripped out of you and onto the stairs below. “Y’look so good.” He murmured, leaning over and kissing you gently. You blinked up at him, staring at his loving expression.