#John Winchester x Reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

naughtyneganjdm · 7 months

Text

A Bargain

Summary: You're called to watch over John Winchester when Dean and Sam need to run to get supplies. A simple task turns into an erotic one when you realize that John is possessed by Azazel and he's willing to give you with John what you always wanted.

Characters: John Winchester, Azazel & the reader (OC, second person).

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50846386

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, smut, rough sex, a moment of potential non-con, some dubious consent, blood play, no use of Y/N, etc.

Notes: This is pretty much pure smut. I wanted to do something Halloween related and I was inspired by @jdmorganz gif-set that was made of John Winchester as yellow eyes, so I ran with it. I hope you like it!

Lightening flashed from the night sky flooding the area around you. A big boom of thunder followed while you sat in your truck waiting outside the small cabin that Dean and Sam had brought John to after they had found him. It was pouring outside and you wondered if you were going to make your move. It had been a long time since you had seen John. It was after a job went wrong and John let you know how disappointed he was in you. He didn’t hold back and it had separated the two of you. As a hunter yourself, you had worked with Dean and John on countless occasions. You were closer to Dean’s age, but you had always found yourself attracted to John. Call it a crush, call it whatever you want, but that’s what made it hurt so much more when he laid into you for a simple mistake.

Tapping your fingers against the steering wheel, you knew that Dean had called you to specifically ask you for this favor so they could gather some things for their plans tonight. Dean stressed you were one of the only people that he could trust. And after some begging you agreed to it, but you just hadn’t made it there yet. Hell, you wished you hadn’t agreed to all of this.

Another flash of lightening filled the sky causing you to huff. It was now or never. Getting out of the truck, you weren’t quick to get to the small, broken-down cabin. It looked like something that should have been condemned. You understood why they were staying there, but you really contemplated on the walk up if you wanted to be there to begin with. By the time you knocked on the door and Dean opened the door, you knew there was no way out of this at this point.

Just watch John.

That was the only request. Keep him safe. And then Dean and Sam were gone leaving you alone in the cabin. Apparently, John was in the back bedroom sleeping. He had been found tortured and tied up is what they told you. You really should have just stayed in the front part of the cabin, but curiosity got the best of you.

Stepping in front of the door that was partially opened, you looked inside to see that John was laid out across the center of the bed on his back. Carefully pulling open the door, you stepped into the room and moved in beside the bed to stare down at him. Cussing out, one step caused the floorboards to squeak. It worried you that it would wake John, but it didn’t. You were thankful for that.

There was a chair at the side of the bed where you imagined one of the boys was sitting beside John to watch over him earlier. Lowering down into the chair, you watched the rhythmic motion of John’s chest rising and falling while he slept. Gazing over him made your chest hurt. Seeing John hurt always bothered you. You hated to see him get this way. It was part of what made working with him so hard for you. John didn’t care about what he did to himself, but you did. You never wanted John to die because you were selfish and cared about him so much. His death missions all in the name of Mary always broke you.

Extending your hand out, you brushed your fingers in over his bruised knuckles finding yourself caught up in the emotions that you had for John in the past. At first your touch was faint, but soon you palmed your hand in over the top of his.

“Trouble,” John’s raspy voice whispered causing you to jump when he spoke the name that he called you when you worked together in the past. His fingers linked with yours and you felt your heartbeat skipping in your chest. Licking his lips, John’s eyebrows furrowed and he sighed. “What are you doing here?”

“Doing a favor for Dean. He wanted me to watch you while him and Sam gathered some supplies,” you answered, going to pull your hand away, but John’s fingers linked tighter with yours keeping you where you were. John’s long eyelashes fluttered and he grimaced when he pulled himself up into a seated position with his back pressed up against the headboard.

“Come here,” John urged you patting the side of the bed and you tipped your head to the side. Getting up from the chair, you did as he asked and lowered down to sit on the bed with him. Your lips parted when his rough fingertips caressed in over the side of your face. A gentle tender touch from John? That wasn’t normal. “Where have you been?”

“Off the grid,” you answered not wanting to show too much of a physical response to having him touch you like that. “I took some time to myself after our last job together.”

“Oh,” his lips parted, his eyebrow arching before nodding his head. “I guess that explains a lot.”

“What do you mean?” you wondered, but it was followed by his eyebrows bouncing up and he shook his head.

“Nothing,” he used his free hand to reach up to brush his thick hair back. “You’ve just been hard to find.”

“I didn’t think you cared,” you breathed out, lowering your head away from him hearing his breathing change. “You made it pretty clear how you felt about me the last time we saw each other.”

“I may have overdone it,” John uttered, his body sliding forward on the bed toward yours. His index finger curled underneath your chin to get you to look up at him. With his hazel eyes locked on yours, you felt a breath catching in your throat. John had never looked at you like that before. “I made a mistake. The last thing I wanted was you running away.”

“Stop,” you lifted your hand to place it over his trying to urge it away from your face. “Don’t do that. I told you how I felt that night and you blew me off. You don’t care where I’ve been. Just go back to bed. I’ll watch over you until Sam and Dean get back. Then we can go back to pretending to not know one another.”

Gasping out, you felt John’s fingers curling around the back of your neck to pull you to him. Forcefully his lips captured yours. A surprised whimper escaped your lips when he kissed you over and over again. At first you were tense against the caress, but with ease fell into the kiss. Your eyes came to a close as you kissed him back. After years of having feelings for John, this was something you always wanted, but he never gave in. No matter how many hints you gave to him or even after you told him how you felt.

“What are you doing?” you breathed against his lips when you managed to have the strength of pull back just enough. John’s grasp was still strong on the back of your neck, keeping you close enough to have the warmth of his breath over yours.

“What I should have done then,” he nibbled at your bottom lip, giving it a small tug with his teeth. His tongue swept over the inside of your bottom lip drawing you to cry out into his mouth. Meeting him this time in another kiss, you cherished the warmth of his lips over yours. Each kiss had you surrendering more to him, leaning in closer to him while his rough fingertips traced down over your arm. Chills flooded down your spine with his fingers sinking into your hair. “You’re so beautiful.”

“John,” you purred out his name feeling him crawling in over you, urging you back against the bed when he made his way over you. Bracing his weight, John lowered down, his tongue brushing between your lips. Returning the gesture, your hips arched up toward him when he settled himself between your thighs.

“I love you,” he breathed out against your lips, his mouth tampering off over your jawline and over the side of your neck. Palming up and over John’s back toward his neck helped pull you back and away from him. Your eyes locked on his seeing that his pupils were dilated and his lips parted while he breathed heavily. “What?”

“Who are you?” you tried pulling yourself out from beneath John feeling the weight of him getting heavier over you when he attempted to keep you there. “You’re not him.”

“I don’t understand,” he looked frustrated with you when you managed to muster up the strength to push him from over you onto his back. “I’m just telling you what you want to hear. Aren’t I?”

“John would never say that. He’s only loved one woman in his life. He stressed that to me the last time he talked to me,” you reminded him and it made John roll his eyes. Standing up from the bed, you stared down at John and saw his hazel eyes slowly lifting to meet yours. “There is no chance that he would even say that to appease me.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” John mumbled, his fingers outstretching, his dimples sinking in when he appealed to your emotions. “Come on Trouble. I know how you feel about me. And I feel for you too. I have since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Of course this is what I wanted, but you’re not John. He wouldn’t touch me like that. He wouldn’t tell me that he loves me,” you stressed feeling your body trembling wondering who you had just made out with knowing that there was no chance in hell that it was John. “I’m calling the boys.”

“Stop,” he called out as you made your way for the door. Instead of listening, you kept for the door only to watch the door slam shut with a thud on its own. The lights flickered causing goosebumps to press in over your arms and you looked over your shoulder. “I said stop.”

Attempting to run for the door, you felt an invisible force throwing your body against the wall as John stood up from the bed. With a wince, you dropped your head back feeling the pressure over your body growing stronger.

“You don’t want it to be the romantic way, fine. I’ll do it the way that Johnny Boy fancies to do with you,” John’s head was down when he approached you. Slowly, his head raised and you felt the fear flood your veins when the yellow eyes met yours. “Here I am trying to be nice, but no, you want the asshole as he is.”

“It’s you,” you hissed out trying with all your might to get out of the hold that he had on you. “How did you do this?”

“It was easy actually,” the demon controlling John spoke with ease, his words coming out in a slur as he slowly approached you. “But yes. It’s me. The name is Azazel. But right now you can still refer to me as John.”

Once he was before you, his arm lowered down and his palm started to caress up over the inside of your thigh. Hissing out, you tried to pull at your body, but the force he had over you was just too strong. Once his palm centered in over between your thighs, you bit down on your bottom lip and winced, “Stop.”

“Why?” he stepped forward, his yellow eyes glowing amongst the minimal amount of light that was filtering into the room that you were in. The air was cold making the warmth that John’s body had near yours feel all the more welcoming, but you hated it considering this was John’s biggest enemy in control of his body. “John wants this you know. I’m letting that part of him control this. God, you should have felt the excitement fill him when I opened my eyes Trouble.”

“Don’t call me that,” you warned letting out a scoff when his palm slid up over the lengths of your abdomen, under your shirt that you were wearing to cup your breast in John’s large palm.

“We’re sharing this body Trouble. I’m just allowing the darkest parts of John to finally do what he’s wanted since he first saw you. Yeah, maybe I exaggerated on the love part, but he wants to fuck you raw,” he slurred nipping at your jawline and peppering kisses over your flesh. “I can feel it deep within me that he wants you. I can give him the strength to finally allow him to give into temptation. Even touching you like this has his cock hard.”

“You’re not him,” you turned your head away when he went to kiss you and Azazel smiled. The way he was talking was nothing like John would. His voice was deeper, almost wicked and his expression more amused.

“I am. He’s in here with me and he’s wanted this for so fucking long. To have those pretty little lips of yours wrapped around his cock. Having those innocent eyes looking up at him while he fucked your throat,” he slurred, his words coming out harsher than you pictured John would sound. “For so long he’s wanted to sink into that tight little pussy of yours. In fact, John is quite the pervert. On many occasions when the two of you were sharing a room, he would let you take a shower first and spy on you. And then after you were done, he would jerk off in the shower thinking about you. Afraid to act on his deepest desires because he didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I…” you breathed out thinking about what was being said knowing that in the past you had wondered if you had witnessed John spying on you several times while you were in the shower. You just had hoped it was wishful thinking and you could see the smirk that pressed in over John’s features. It was still the yellow eyes that chilled you right to the core. Looking down, you watched his fingers pulling at the button in your pants getting it open. After he managed to get the zipper apart, his hand dipped beneath the material and you felt the warmth of his hand palming in over your body. Closing your eyes, you sucked in a sharp breath and knew that you shouldn’t be feeling the things that you were. “Stop.”

“You don’t want this to stop,” he evoked, his long, slender fingers drawing back and forth over the length of your sex. Biting into your bottom lip, you forced your eyes open and connected your eyes with the yellow glow of the ones before you. “This is John’s meat suit after all and I’m only acting on the actions he wish he could do himself. Consider this my one gift for him. Which I think is pretty nice after all the hell he’s put me through.”

Clenching your fists, you felt his fingertips caressing over your clitoris in circular motions. Involuntarily a whimper fell from your throat and he smiled in response, “See, you like the way that this feels. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“Please…” you gasped out when his fingers found their way between your thighs, a single finger pushing into your warmth, drawing slowly back and then forward. “It’s John that I want.”

“And this is what John wants too,” he insisted, an amused expression flooding in over his features when he pressed another finger into you. Allowing a buildup, he eventually had his fingers pumping away inside of you and you were crying out with the way that he was doing it. A forced ripped your shirt from your body and you tried to focus yourself, but it felt so good with his fingers touching you the way that they were. Stepping in closer to you, he pressed his forehead against yours, the warmth of his breath drawing chills over your skin. Every plunge of his fingers inside of you had your hips shaking against him wanting that friction. “You want to come so bad Trouble.”

Biting down on your bottom lip harder, you felt a rush flooding toward your head and you cried out. Right when it felt like you were about to come, the movement stopped and the fingers went stagnant inside of you, “You still want me to stop?”

Too embarrassed to answer with words, you shook your head and heard the entertained rumble of a laugh that followed. Once you gave him the answer, his fingers went back at a harder pace working to lead you up to your orgasm. Soft moans were falling from your throat when John’s fingers worked to get the bra from your body. His lips covered your breast as soon as he tugged the material off and tossed it aside. Circling his tongue around your nipple made you arch forward toward him when he suckled at the flesh. Your hips were rocking at the movements of his fingers while he had you pinned against the wall. You wanted to touch John, but you couldn’t because that invisible force had your wrists pressed against the wall firmly. Panting, you could feel your heart hammering inside of your chest when he went to the other breast to pamper it the way he had before. Pulling his head back, he noticed that your thighs were shaking and your moans grew louder when he brought you to your orgasm.

Trembling where he had you, you saw the yellow eyes enamored with you while he gazed over your body, “Let’s make a bargain.”

“No,” you shook your head hearing him laugh when you could barely mutter those words.

“I give you John. I told you this is something that he wants. Manipulate his mind enough so that he thinks that this is a moment just between the two of you. Finally allow him to have the gusto to give you what he’s always wanted,” he began, his smile expanding when he stepped back. Pulling the button-down shirt from his arms, he tossed it aside and then reached for the t-shirt that John was wearing to pull it from his body. It was an attempt to tease you. He knew how you felt for John and parading John’s body around like this was the best way for him to do it. Your throat went dry glancing over John’s beautiful body. Standing before you shirtless, he shrugged his shoulders. Gasping out, you felt your body being pulled from the wall only to be forced before him on your knees. Tipping his head to the side, he dragged his fingers out over the belt while you stared up at him with big eyes. Unhooking the belt had your lips parting and you felt like the room was spinning around you with how hot it was making you. “Then you owe me.”

“I won’t hurt John or the boys,” you declared with a shake of your head and a laugh followed.

“Oh, I know you wouldn’t,” he slurred, clicking his tongue against the top of his mouth. “I wouldn’t ask that of you. No. It’s much simpler than that. You just can’t say no when the time comes.”

Your lips parted, your throat going dry when he began to open John’s pants revealing the dark curls of hair that were showing just above the top of his boxers that he had on. Pushing his fingers into the waistband had the material tugging at John’s flesh revealing the thick base of John’s cock. It made your mouth water at the sight until the material pulled down completely causing John’s erection to bounce free from behind the prison of the cotton. John’s cock was thick with prominent veins over the shaft. The swollen tip was red with precum developing at the tip and it made your mouth water at the sight.

“John has this stored away and he’s such a fucking tight ass,” he muttered, curling his fingers around John’s length drawing attention to how big it was in comparison to his large palm wrapped around it. “You think he would enjoy himself a little bit.”

“Only if you leave and it’s fully John will I agree to this,” you noticed the way that the demon was gazing over John’s length as if he was admiring it in that moment. “I want him, not you.”

“Now, I can’t leave him completely. That’s a no-no, but I promise you it will be him. I just get a ticket to the show. I get to watch it without being in charge,” he assured you with an amused smirk, his fingers hooking into your hair drawing you close to John’s body. Dragging the swollen tip of John’s cock against your full, wet lips had a wetness flooding to your core. “That’s the best I can do. But it will be him,” he tapped his cock against your lips making you part them. Extending your tongue out slightly had him groaning out when you dragged it out across the tip collecting the taste of him. “What do you say?”

Grasping your jaw between his thumb and index finger had your eyes locked on his, “Give in to what you want beautiful.”

Everything inside of you wanted this and he knew that. It was just the fear of what he wanted from you that worried you. With a nod of your head, you gave into him hearing his faint, raspy laugh follow. Sweeping his thumb across your bottom lip, he gave you a nod and sighed, “Good girl. Too bad, I would have liked doing this for myself. But I guess John gets something nice for once.”

John’s eyes closed tightly, his fingers squeezing firmly around your jawline when he let out a long exhale. John’s eyes fluttered to an open and they were no longer the yellow, but his beautiful hazel eyes. Once John’s eyes focused on yours, something changed in his features and he sank his fingers into your hair. Lowering down, his lips hovered over yours teasing you with the idea of kissing you.

“You were a bad girl abandoning me Trouble,” John slurred, his bottom lip skimming over yours drawing you up further on your knees.

“John?” you muttered hearing him tsk and give you a small nod. “I guess you should punish me for it then.”

“You’re going to have to work hard for daddy to begin to forgive you,” John’s voice was back to normal, his eyebrows furrowing when he forcefully kissed you. Purring out against his flesh, you parted your lips and allowed his tongue to brush against yours. Sucking faintly at John’s tongue had his raspy moan vibrating against your lips and you purred when he pulled away. John pushed his fingers into his jeans to get them down to his ankles before caressing over his rigid manhood. “Come here baby girl…”

Leading you to his length, John curled his finger underneath your chin to bring you to the tip where you pressed faint kisses. Parting your lips, you took John into your mouth and swept your tongue around the ridges of the tip. It had him licking his lips and exhaling loudly, but he didn’t take his hazel eyes off of you. Taking him further into your mouth, you made sure to drag your tongue out against his flesh. John allowed you to bob your head over his length in slow drawn-out motions at first. With each motion, his fingers snaked tighter into your hair. Your hands were caressing up and over his hips, feeling the muscles flexing beneath your touch. Snaking your hands around him, you squeezed at his small bottom hearing him sigh while you grasped tightly to his flesh. There was a yearning in John’s eyes that drove you to want to please him as well as you could.

John started to control the movements of your head while you took his thick cock into your mouth again and again. Gagging, wet sounds filled the room with the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat while he fucked your mouth. His toned hips rocked toward your mouth, his eyes hooked on you while he had his way with you.

“Enough,” John whispered, pulling you away from his throbbing length. A went line of saliva went from the tip to your full lips. Catching your breath, you felt John pulling you up to him like you weighed nothing. Falling in against his chest, you curled your fingers around his shoulders and dug your fingertips into his flesh. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” you repeated what he asked of you and that wasn’t a lie. John licked his lips, curling his fingers around the back of your neck. Pushing you forward, he had you falling in against the bed face first. Clinging to the old comforter, you curled your fingers around the material and heard John getting to his knees behind you. Closing your eyes, you purred out when you felt him kissing over the back of your thighs. “John.”

“You have no idea how many nights I wanted to do this. With you cuddled up to me at night when we could only get one bed,” John reminded you of some of your cases where you ended up in motels where one bed was all you could get together. “I’d wake up with a hard on and just assumed you never wanted this. Now that I know, I’m going to make sure you never forget this.”

Closing your eyes, you cried out when John started going down on you. His tongue flicking out between your sensitive folds, dragging his tongue out over the flesh. Slurping faintly had you rocking your hips back toward him. Wincing, you felt him pulling back to spank firmly over your ass before squeezing at your fleshy bottom. Staying still, you enjoyed the way it felt with him testing the flesh. Another smack over your bottom had your hips bouncing forward, but he pulled you back to him. Pushing at the flesh helped reveal your hole to him and his tongue lapped at it before sucking. It had you squeezing harder at the comforter when his tongue pushed at your entrance. After a few firm strokes of his tongue, he pulled back with a wet sound, his fingers replacing his tongue while he pumped them inside of you, getting you prepared for him. His lips latched onto your clitoris, circling his tongue around the small bundle of nerves. It had you pressing up on your toes, your cries growing louder. Wet sounds filled the tiny, decrepit room from the talent his mouth was unleashing on you.

“John,” you reached back with one of your hands managing to sink your fingers into his dark hair. John’s moan vibrated against your flesh. Your thighs started to tremble uncontrollably again and it made you want to crawl forward on the bed, but John’s strong grasp kept you where you were when he got you to another orgasm. When he was satisfied, he got up on his knees behind you on the bed. Digging his fingers into your flesh had you purring out when you looked over your shoulder to see him stroking over his erection. The sound of John spitting was heard and you felt the warmth of it sliding down over your bottom. “Please.”

“You’ve waited this long, you can hold on just a second longer,” John assured her, using the tip of his cock to collect his spit. Tracing it back and forth over the length of your sex had you shaking. He was teasing you and god was it working. You were wet. You were shivering. Your pussy was throbbing. “It’s going to hurt Trouble.”

“You’re worth it,” you assured him seeing the faint smirk tug at his bruised features. With a nod, John led the tip toward your entrance. His eyes were focused on what he was doing when he pushed his hips forward. Crying out, you knew that you couldn’t pull away when his girthy length started to fill you. The stretching feeling hurt at first. He wasn’t kidding. Biting harder at your lip, you reached around to wrap your fingers around his wrist, while the other braced yourself against the bed.

“You’ve got this. You’ve taken a lot worse Trouble. You can take daddy’s big, fat cock,” John coached you pushing forward until he filled you to the brim. It had you wincing and crying out at the sensation, but he stayed put allowing you to feel every inch of him in that moment. Another smack filled the air when he spanked at your bottom no doubt leaving a mark. “You feel so good. So tight.”

“Please,” you begged for movement, but he wasn’t giving it. Not yet. He wanted you to squirm on his cock and you were. It had your hips pulling forward, but when it did, he would pull you back to keep you put. “John, please fuck me. Please.”

“You got it baby,” John hushed you starting to pull his hips back in slow movements before plunging his hips forward. Every forward, wet smack had you mewling out grasping onto whatever you could. Every thrust grew in strength and speed. Before you knew it, he was pounding into you driving you forward with how hard his thrusts really were inside of you. But the addictive sensation of the swollen tip rubbing against your g-spot had the room spinning around you.

“John, I’m gonna come,” you squealed out, your hips forcing forward as the wet sound of you coming filled the small area and a shocked breath fell from John’s throat. Tracing his fingers over the length of your pussy had you shaking and he was back inside of you again before you could even catch your breath. “John.”

Whimpering out, you crawled forward, but so did he, not allowing you to pull from his cock. Pressing into your shoulders had you lowered down against the bed. Pressing your legs together, he crawled in over you with his knees at your sides. The strength his hands had on your hips was strong and it would certainly bruise with how hard he was holding onto your flesh.

“You squirt?” John slurred, his groin smacking up against your ass while he continued his thrusts inside of you. Having your legs closed like this tightened everything up for you and him allowing you to feel every ridge of him inside of you. “You lucky girl. Or maybe I’m the lucky one.”

Squeaks from the old bed were surrounding the two of you with the headframe smacking up against the wall. It made you wonder if this old bed could even handle this. A whine fell from your throat when John’s thumb circle your other hole. You cried out his name when he pushed forward, allowing his thumb to enter the tightness of it while he fucked you. It was a strange feeling, but you allowed it enjoying the way it felt. Right now it felt like John was making it known you were his in every way possible and you couldn’t complain. You wanted to be.

Wincing out, you felt John lowering in over you. His right arm wrapped around your shoulder, his nose burying against the side of your neck while his left arm braced against the bed. Repeatedly his hips smacked up against your bottom with his length filling you in powerful strokes.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, turning your head enough to meet his lips in a wet kiss. His moans vibrated against your lips when you felt your body tensing up again. “Please. I’m going to come again.”

“Squirt?” John rumbled against your lips and his hips were smacking up against your bottom showing his dominance and strength in his movements. Squeezing your eyes shut, your heart hammered in your chest and John bit at your bottom lip. You were almost certain it broke the flesh, but you were too focused on your orgasm that he was chasing to care. A proud rumble fell from his throat when you came again, crawling up further toward the top of the bed when his big cock pulled from your body and rest over your bottom. Your body shook and you felt John caress over your shoulders trying to soothe you. “Good girl.”

“I want you to ride me honey, can you do that?” John questioned, pulling himself to the edge of the bed reaching for you to pull you with him. It didn’t really give you much of an option when he pulled you over him. Hooking your arms around his shoulders, you tried to brace yourself over his body knowing that you were still shaking. Reaching between the two of you, you grabbed a firm hold of John’s body and led it back into you. Having your eyes hooked on his felt so much more intimate than all that happened before. “Just like that.”

John praised you with every movement, his kisses over your jawline urging you on further. Your fingers sank into the curls at the bottom of his neck. His hair was wet, his hands clasped to your hips helping your movements over him.

“We should have done this from the start,” he slurred, his words vibrating against your lips. Squeezing over your bottom had him smacking over it again before pulling you in closer against his chest to keep that close contact. “We could have been soaking the sheets of all the motels we stayed at.”

“I didn’t know I could do that until you,” you reasoned with John, your body feeling weak while you tried to roll your hips over his length in a way that had his eyes rolling back. John braced his hands back against the bed while you had your way with him. “If I would have known your cock was so big, I would have been taking advantage from the start.”

“Stand up,” John ordered and you didn’t know if you could, but you got up and moved to your feet. Your legs were like Jell-O when John led you over toward the mirror that was cracked at the other side of the room. Forcing you to face the mirror, John moved in behind you. Grabbing your hips the way he needed, he adjusted his body and entered you standing. The smacking of his hips was almost immediate, his right hand reaching around you to circle his rough fingertips around your clitoris.

John rest his chin against your shoulder, his nose nuzzling against the side of your neck. Rasp moans filled your ears watching him smile against your flesh, “I want you to watch me fucking you…I want you to see what this is doing for both of us.”

“You’re so big,” you whined looking down to see his cock plunging into you again and again. Going balls deep with almost every thrust. Falling forward, your hand braced over the center of the mirror. A wince fell from your throat when you cut yourself. You should have cared more than you did. The moment was just so euphoric for you that you didn’t want it to stop. You were quickly approaching another orgasm, and you needed it so bad. “Please…please…”

“Yes ma’am,” John whispered keeping up with his movements, the wet plunges of his cock drawing you up on your tip toes. You never wanted his cock to leave you at this point with how good he was making you feel. It should have bothered you that he was still possessed by Azazel, but you didn’t care. In that moment at least. Crying out his name over and over again, you had John kissing you to silence some of your cries when the wet sound of you coming again filled the room when it covered the floor. John stayed still in the moment, his arm curling around your waist. You could barely stand up on your own. You were weak covered in a layer of sweat. John’s nose nuzzled against your flesh and he would pepper faint kisses over the side of your neck.

“My turn now,” John felt you reaching around to sink your fingers into his wet hair. Dragging his palm across your breasts, he teased his fingers over them and squeezed over them possessively. Leading you over toward the bed, he let you lay down in the middle of it. Crawling in over you, he stole kiss after kiss from your lips while he got situated. Flicking his tongue out over yours had you clinging to his sweaty body. Lining his cock up with your entrance, he rolled his hips up and entered you in a fluid movement. It had your head tipping back, your lips parting while he had his eyes hooked on yours. “Good girl. You’ve done so good.”

John’s thrusts were slow this time. It was more sensual, drawn out. Every drag back and push forward felt incredible. After all your orgasms, everything was so much more enhanced and he was loving every second of it. It had him smiling over you, his right hand caressing over the side of your face as if he was cherishing the moment. Stroking down over the sides of his body, you found yourself addicted to the sensation of the friction of his groin rubbing up against your clit. It felt phenomenal and you never wanted it to end.

Noticing that your hand was bleeding, John reached for it and kissed over your palm. It surprised you when his tongue collected the blood from your flesh, his eyes closing tightly when he did it. You wondered if that was John or Azazel, but you didn’t question it. Pulling John to you, your mouth claimed his and you tasted the metallic taste of your blood still lingering over his lips. It was shocking at first, but you kept kissing him. You didn’t want this to end.

“I’m going to fill you with my cum, are you okay with that?” John questioned, his lips hovering over yours when your palm squeezed in over his bottom enjoying the way it flexed beneath your grasp. “You want me to leave your pussy dripping with my cum? My balls are so full baby. I can feel em’ tightening up. I’m so close.”

“Please,” you whimpered, grasping harder at his ass, urging him closer to you so he knew that he could lose himself inside of you. John’s lips were over yours, his winces becoming closer together. His thrust were sloppier, his cock twitching inside of you and you used the power that you still had to thrust your hips up toward him. “You’re perfect John, in every way possible.”

“You really do love me, don’t you?” John slurred, his hazel eyes locked on yours when you felt your throat tensing up. With a nod, you didn’t know whether to be embarrassed about it or not when he nuzzled his nose in against yours. John’s moans grew louder, his forehead pressing against yours when you felt him aching. The first line of his cum spurt out inside of you. Clinging tightly to him, you loved the sensation it gave you. Just having his throbbing manhood twitching inside of you was euphoric. Addictive would be a good way to explain it. And it turned you on when he continued to pump you full of his cum. Along with his moans, you felt hotter than you ever had before. You met his thrusts wanting him deep inside of you when he came. Once he was done, he rolled his hips a few more times and lowered down in over you. Peppering kisses over your lips, John groaned out and looked down between you. An amused breath fell from his throat, his eyes seemingly in awe of the way some of his release escaped you dripping down his balls. “Amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” you whispered, nuzzling your nose in against his. Stroking your fingers through his wet hair, you found yourself getting comfortable with him growing soft inside of you, but you didn’t care. From everything that happened, you found yourself drawn most to the closeness of the two of you after everything. “I’m sorry I forced my feelings on you.”

“I’ve always cared about you Trouble,” he stroked his fingers down over the side of your face. His words coming out in a whisper. “I was just so afraid of hurting you and for that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. So much time was wasted with us.”

“I’m sorry too,” you hushed him, finding yourself in awe with John cuddling his head in against the side of your neck. After a few moments of cuddling up to him, you heard the disgusted groan follow and you felt a chill flood your body. When John’s body pulled back and away from you, you felt some of his cum dripping down your inner thighs. John’s hazel eyes were now yellow again when he walked around the small room to reach for his boxers. Your eyes still lingered on his semi-erect cock that bounced with the movements.

“It was sexy and hot up until the end there when you both had to get so fucking gushy on one another,” Azazel scoffed, pulling the material up and over John’s hips. Reaching for John’s jeans, he was pulling them up his hips before tossing your clothes to you to get dressed. “The boys are almost back and you need to get dressed. The last thing they need to see is their father in the aftermath from fucking their friend. Now don’t get any wild ideas about telling the boys what you know. That’s where our deal comes in.”

“What do you mean?” you pulled your body up further watching John move throughout the room.

“It means you leave this house once Sam and Dean return. You say nothing. You get in your truck, you don’t look back,” he ordered drawing you to let out a frustrated breath. “You disobey me and I kill them all. Do you understand?”

“Just like that?” you huffed and he nodded, his eyebrows bouncing up.

“Just like that,” he repeated with a firm nod of his head. “And if you love John, you will do it because you know I’m capable of snapping his neck like it’s nothing. Same with the boys. I gave you what you wanted, now it’s time to follow up on my request. Get dressed.”

“You destroyed my shirt,” you reminded him hearing the scoff that followed when he pushed through the drawers that were there. When he found something, he tossed it at you and you huffed loudly. Getting dressed, you felt awkward that your moment was stolen so quickly right out from under you with John by Azazel. Once you were dressed, you found yourself standing before John again when he pulled the shirt in over his arms. “You didn’t let me say goodbye.”

“I didn’t promise you a goodbye,” he reminded you with a shake of his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I promised you less than what you got. Enjoy what you have. Plus, I gave you something else that you are going to enjoy having in the future.”

“What does that mean?” you scoffed seeing the wicked smirk that followed when he shook his head. “Let me say goodbye.”

“No,” he snorted, the yellow eyes growing fiercer when he dragged his tongue across his bottom lip.

“Please,” you begged hearing his groan follow.

“I must feel sorry for you. Or maybe it’s my emotions getting mixed with John’s here, but fine,” he scowled, his head tipping to the side while he looked down at you. “This is your last request that I’m accepting. After that, you need to piss off.”

A wince fell from John’s throat when the yellow faded from his eyes and he looked down to see that you were dressed again. Stepping forward, you pressed your hand to the side of his face and saw the confusion in John’s eyes, “I need to say goodbye.”

“You’re leaving?” John frowned, his hands settling at your hips, his forehead pressing to yours. “You just came back into our lives. Now you’re going to be gone again so soon?”

“I hope to see you again soon,” you whispered finding your heart skipping a beat when John urged you back to meet his lips in a tender, passionate kiss. Maybe the I love you was something you would never get, but this tenderness was something you would never expect from John and you liked it. “I love you, John.”

“I know you do,” John whispered, his nose nuzzling against yours. Right when you cuddled your head up against his, you heard the gagging sound follow when Azazel pulled away, his yellow eyes showing again. He cringed and shook his body in disgust. “The romantics. You’re all gonna make me throw up with all the tenderness.”

“You’re an asshole,” you scoffed causing John’s head to bob about in an arrogant fashion.

“I know,” Azazel breathed out in a slur, his yellow eyes narrowing out at you. “I’m going to go lay down on that bed and if you truly love John, you will keep your mouth shut because the only chance he has at surviving is if you don’t say shit. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll do exactly what I asked of you. You know what I’m capable of.”

With a frown, you heard the sound of the door opening and watched Azazel lower his head back against the pillows that you originally found him sleeping against earlier. Dean walked into the room and you were almost frozen in contemplation. Maybe you lingered too long, but you kept up your end of the bargain. You believed Azazel when he told you that he would kill them.

Getting in the truck to leave was the hardest thing you had to do. Pretending nothing happened, lying to the boy’s faces and not knowing the fate of what would happen to the man you loved and cared for? It was devastating. But you didn’t want to be the thing that brought about the end to three people you cared greatly for. So you did the one thing you could do. You left with the final memory you shared with John lingering fresh in your mind.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @de-gabyconamor @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan @redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted @akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @insertneganhere @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03 @sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf @hollyismentallyillhelp @promiscuousbarnes @tone-stark @lanadelnegan

#John Winchester #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #John Winchester Fanfiction #Supernatural #John Winchester x reader #John Winchester smut #John Winchester x You #Supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #John Winchester imagine

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imyourbratzdoll · 3 months

Text

𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒂 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓

🍓the strawberry shack masterlist🍓

summary - john has been stressed while on the road, hiding from the supernatural wasn't the easiest job, but thankfully a certain sign caught his eye.

warning - smut, being used, gloryhole, swearing, creampie.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

John had been on the road for a long time now and he was in some desperate need of release. At first, he thought he needed it through a hunt, but after killing a nest of vampires, he could still feel that pent up frustration. It was gnawing at him, he had fucked his fist, not wanting to bother with finding a woman and still it didn’t work. Not until he finally came across a flashing sign that read ‘The Strawberry Shack’, something pulling him towards it.

He parks his car, turning it off before he gets out, checking his surroundings before he enters the building. John checks for anything weird or supernatural as he walks up to the front desk. “Hiya sugar. What can I do you for?”

He stares for a while, “I heard this is the place for release?” The woman nods.

“What kinda release you looking for? We got oral or…” Before she can finish her sentence, John slams his money down. Something coming over him as he hears this.

“The second option.” She directs him to which door he needs to go through and with determination, John storms toward that area. Making his way through the door and surveying the room before he sets his sights on you and makes his way over. He feels his pants tighten as his cock strains against them, groaning, John quickly unzips his jeans and takes out his throbbing member. “Hey, sweetheart. I’m just going to use you for a bit if that’s okay.”

You whimper, feeling your cunt throb from his voice and his words. “Uh huh, use me please.”

The moment those words slip from your lips, John lines himself up against you. Pushing in slowly with a groan, feeling your tight walls squeeze around him. “Fuck, sweetheart. You feel amazing.” The sound of slapping fills the room as John begins to pound into you, gripping your hips as he uses your body as promised. Your juices leak from your tight hole, coating his cock and your thighs. “That’s my good girl.”

You moan, gripping the soft bench underneath you, you bury your face into the pillow, practically drooling as John continues to fuck you, pounding into your g-spot like there’s no tomorrow. Your head flies back as your arse stings, John’s hand moves away after slapping your cheeks and watching your arse ripple.

“Don’t hide those pretty sounds, sweetheart. I wanna hear you.” His hands grip your hips again, going harder and faster if that’s even possible. You moan freely and loudly, not being able to see the smirk on the man’s face. “Good girl, such pretty sounds. Are they all for me?” He grunts, slowing his thrusts as he watches his cock slide in and out of you, white coating his base.

“Yes, yes! All for you!” John groans, hips snapping as he slams his cock deep inside of you, fucking you until he feels his balls tighten and his tip twitch. Your walls squeeze him as hot cum spurts out of his thick tip, coating your walls. You follow suit, juices squirting out, covering him. “Ahh!”

John gently pulls out, watching his cum leak out of you, he tucks his softened cock back into his jeans and zips himself up. The tension has finally left his body and he doesn’t feel so frustrated anymore. “Thanks for that, sweetheart. Maybe I’ll see you next time.” He gives your arse a light tap before leaving, keeping the mental image of his cum leaking out in his head as he heads back to his car and drives off.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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holylulusworld · 11 days

Text

Ready for harvest

Summary: You and your alphas play another game.

Written for @spnkinkevents SPN Omegaverse Week – Day 6 – Friday, April 19 – Slick

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader; Alpha!Sam Winchester x fem!Reader; Alpha!John Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: implied smut/light smut, somnophilia, use of a sex swing, implied taking turns, blindfolds, use of a safe word, aftercare, consensual degrading, daddy kink, a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, established polyamorous relationship, fluff

Catch up here: Hungry like the wolf

A/N: The story takes place in Season 10. John is still alive for my storyline.

Words: 1,3 k+

SPN Omegaverse Week Masterlist

A snowstorm ruined your plans, but it offered a new opportunity. While stuck at the bunker with your alphas, you came up with new ideas to kill time.

Strip poker. Chasing a fake monster. Strip charade. Naked cooking contests.

Five days later you’re still stuck in the bunker, unable to leave it because of the snow masses blocking all exits.

Luckily you’re always prepared and got enough food, because and men around to survive for even for weeks without leaving the bunker.

“Good thing I bought all the good shit before the weather decided to fuck us over,” John grins at you. “What do you say, Y/N? Do you want to try it out? I got it in our playroom.”

You chuckle at his eagerness. It was his idea to turn one of the rooms at the bunker into a playroom for you and your alphas.

“Okay, show me what you bought,” you lean closer to whisper in his ear, “Daddy.”

“Careful or I’ll take you right here, in the hallways.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you grin, remembering the night John pounced on you after you sneaked into the kitchen for a late-night snack. He fucked you right there, on the floor for his sons to watch. “It was so hot and dirty.”

“Because we all took turns,” Sam suddenly stands behind you to grope your ass. For a man his size, he’s fucking stealthy. “So, what are we up to today? Can I sort the books at the library, or did we find something more interesting to do?”

You smirk at Sam.

“I think our omega wants to play,” John snickers. He unashamedly cups his crotch. It’s only you and his sons, and all of you have seen all of him over the years. No one around to judge you for being a pack’s omega.

“Hmm…” you run your fingertips over the sex swing hammock John decided to buy. You feel the soft leather to check the quality. “It looks nice.” You’re unsure for the first time.

“If you don’t like it, we can just chase you around the bunker and play hide and seek,” Dean joins the party. “We thought it’d be nice if you played pillow princess and just enjoyed the ride.”

“Pillow princess?” You snort. It’s not your style to just take it. “How will this work?” You tug at the straps to test the stability of the hammock. “Me?”

“I want you to wear this,” John purrs and holds a blindfold in front of your face. “We want to play guess the cock.”

“You’re kinky, Mr. Winchester,” you snatch the blindfold out of his hands. “Black silk, huh?”

“For special occasions, sweetheart,” Dean looks at the blindfold in your hands. “We want to give you a special night.”

“You want to get your dick wet,” you playfully slap his chest. “You horny bastard.”

Dean chuckles. “You know me so well, baby.”

“I know all of you,” you smirk darkly. “Every dirty little secret and every kink.”

“Do you trust us?” John cups your cheek. “We’d love to give you a new experience. But only if you want it.”

“Only if you promise to not tease me,” you poke your finger into his chest. “Last time you edged me for too long and then, you didn’t let me cum!”

“That was sweet punishment,” Sam taunts. “And we will do it again.”

“If you play your cards right,” you purr and step toward Sam to fist his flannel, “I allow you to massage my feet after you made me cum, Sammy.”

Your alphas smirk as you shimmy out of your panties and fling them across the room.

“Let’s test this nice swing…”

Your alphas helped you into the shamrock. Your men made sure that you were comfortable and felt safe. John asked you about your safe word and kissed you softly before using the leg and arm straps on you.

It feels like floating. “You look ready to get eaten, doll,” John whispers in your ear. He tweaks one of your nipples, causing you to shudder. “If you guess the cock right, you get a special gift after we are done with you.”

Dean kneels in front of the shamrock to teasingly run his tongue over your clit. He grips your legs tightly, enjoying you cannot close them when he playfully sinks his teeth into your clit.

“DEAN!” you grunt. He’s a teasing little shit, and you will pay him back. “I dare you!”

“How does she taste brother?” Sam watches his father and brother tease you with little licks and touches. “Dean?”

“She’s slicking for us, Sammy,” Dean growls against your flesh. “Y/N is such a good omega for us.”

You mewl at his words. Your chest swells and your body goes lax. “Daddy…”

“I’m here, doll,” John whispers in your ear. “Can we begin, baby doll?”

“Hmmm…” you nod.

“Do you remember your safe word, Y/N?”

“Papaya,” you murmur. “I’m all green, daddy.”

“Of course you are,” he replies and nods at his sons. “If you want us to stop, you will say it. Remember that you are the one in control.”

John’s features darken as he steps next to his sons. He cracks his neck and stares at your exposed body, ready for them to use you. You’re completely at their mercy, and his primal side loves it.

“Ready sons.”

“Ready if you are,” Dean and Sam say in unison.

“Yes…” you whisper lowly. “I want to play a game with all of you…”

You feel his hands on you seconds later. His touch is tender at first, but his hands get more demanding. He gropes your tits, roughly pinching your nipples. You know it’s Sam because he’s hiding the beast so well, but not with you.

“Fuck me,” you challenge. “Now!”

They don’t speak when they start using your body for their pleasure. It’s part of the game.

Sam is first. He’s rough, and demanding, but he pulls three orgasms out of your body.

You recognize Dean next. He takes his time to tease you, fingering you until you cry and beg him for an orgasm, but he will let you wait, and you’ll only find release with his cock inside of you.

John is last. He’s rougher tonight and calls you his whore, and slut. Your alpha was on the edge for weeks. One hunt had gone wrong, and he feared he’d lose another mate.

“Look at this, a whore to go,” John taunts you not only with his cock driving into you in abandon, but his voice making you shudder.

He’s unstoppable. Pulling orgasm after orgasm from your spent body. You’re sore and tired, your safe word on the top of your tongue but you don’t use it. John needs to get this out of his system, and you won’t stop him.

Even if it’s against your alphas’ rules.

In the morning, you wake to John fucking wildly into you. You’re usually more than happy if he slips inside of you while you’re asleep, but this morning is different.

You cry, and whimper. John grunts into your neck, believing you’re into it as you wiggle underneath him.

“John,” it pains you to do it, but you cannot take more, “Papaya.”

He stiffens and immediately slips out of you. “Doll,” he nuzzles you. “I’ve got you doll,” John whispers. “You did so well. We are proud of you.” He wraps his arms around you and cradles you in his arms. “I’m gonna get you clean and take care of you.”

John picks you up to carry you inside the bathroom. “I’m sorry, daddy. It was…too intense.”

“No. I’m sorry,” he pecks your hair. “I was a bad dominant today. I should’ve seen your distress and ended the session last night. It was too much, and…” He sniffs. “Please forgive me.”

“I’m fine, John,” you hide your face in his shoulder. “You’re good alphas.”

John isn’t convinced. He calls for his sons, asking them to help him with you. “We need to do more aftercare. It was too much.” He admits, ashamed.

“We’re here, sweetheart,” Dean whispers. “We will take care of you now…”

Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #spnomegaverseweek2024 #a/b/o #smut #polyamory #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #john winchester x reader #Ready for harvest #tw: daddy kink #x reader

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mystra-midnight · 7 months

Text

Dirty Little Secret

summary: he swore that when you bent over to scoop the car keys from the coffee table, he'd been able to see up your skirt and straight to your damn cervix.

warnings: 18+ only. thigh riding. age gap; (reader is in their 20's, john's in his 40's) pet names; (sweetheart, pretty girl). public setting. john's a bit pervy here.

words: 985.

notes: was fishing for ideas with a friend on mine on snapchat and this came about. john winchester + age gap + thigh riding in the impala = a damn good time.

“We could get arrested.”

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

Your skin tasted like sweat as he ran his tongue up the side of your neck, leaving a fat, wet stripe behind. His hands grabbed your hips frantically while you crawled into his lap, your legs falling into position around his thigh while the steering wheel nudged roughly at the small of your back. Under time constraints, he was in a hurry, bunching your skirt around your waist so that he could pull your thong to the side and push his thigh firmly against your mound.

Beer—that had been his excuse to be alone with you. He'd tagged along to make sure you got the good kind and not the cheap shit you usually bought. It was a lie—a bold-faced, fucking lie. He had to get away from the boys and get you alone because you were wearing the smallest, tightest skirt he'd ever fucking seen. He swore that when you bent over to scoop the car keys from the coffee table, he'd been able to see up your skirt and straight to your damn cervix.

You mewled into his mouth when your lips crashed with a myriad of licks and bites. It was dirty. God, it was so dirty but so fucking hot. This was John—fucking—Winchester, the father of your two best friends. It was their father you were dry-humping in the parking lot of a grocery store. Anyone could notice the foggy windows. Anyone could peer inside. Anyone could get a glimpse of your bare backside, the slick dripping down the inside of your thighs, and the wet patch on his jeans.

You couldn't find it in yourself to care when he pushed his hands up your shirt and yanked down the cups of your bra, freeing your tits into his awaiting palms. He rolled his fingers over your nipples, chuckling faintly against your mouth when they pebbled into hardened peaks.

"Like me touching you like this, baby? I know you do, can feel how wet that pretty pussy is."

Your answering whine was enough to encourage him to touch you more, not that he needed the encouragement. Angling his hips to meet yours, John's thigh rubbed against your bare cunt as his erection pressed against yours. If given half a chance, he'd be fucking you right now—his dirty girl, old enough to be his daughter. He'd wanted you the moment Sam bought you home from college—not a lover but a very good friend—someone he trusted implicitly, someone who he loved and cared for and promised to never hurt—a sentiment you shared.

And yet here you were with his father in the front seat of a car that was parked in the grocery store parking lot of some backwater town, panting against his lips, licking all around his mouth, and grinding against his thigh like a desperate whore. There had been no preamble, no coquettish stares, and no hesitations. John had been staring at your thighs and how high the skirt rode, and you'd crawled into his lap. It was filthy how quickly you got turned on, and worse still, how quickly the knot of pleasure started to twist through your organs.

"John," you breathed his name in a sigh, your eyes closed and your breath heavy. "John, you're gonna make me cum if we don't stop." The thought of peeling yourself away from him was painful, leaving your heart thumping against your breastbone so hard you'd swear you heard it start to crack. You didn't want to stop, but you couldn't very well go back to the hotel looking like a cum-drunk whore. Dean would definitely notice, and he wasn't good at keeping secrets.

Pre-emptively, John grabbed your hips and pulled you roughly against him, smearing your slick along his dark denim until they were stained a darker shade. "That's the fucking point," he growled against your neck, right where he'd sucked a pink-purple bruise below your ear. You'd worry about it later, when his hand wasn't snaking between your bodies to find your throbbing clit.

The rough drag of his calloused fingers against your nub made you gasp. Your hands flew to his head, fingers burrowing deep in his salt and pepper hair, holding his mouth to yours as you whined low and long, the sound ripping up your spine, the back of your throat, and right out of your parted lips. You were already soaked, something that amused him.

"I gotta get you ready for tonight, pretty girl."

"T-tonight?"

It was hard to maintain a conversation with how he was touching you, playing you like a damn violin. You were putty in his hands, so fucking young, pretty, and eager to cum. John doubted you were thinking about anything else except for the fire that had settled in your veins—the way it made you moan too loudly, the way it made you move faster and faster, until the car was rocking on its wheels.

The steering wheel nudged your back again and again, leaving a perfect imprint bruised into your lower back, but you didn't care. John knew when you were getting close. Your thighs trembled, the grind of your hips faltering as the sharp zing of pleasure shot through you each time your lips caught on the rips in his jeans, each time he circled your clit only to change directions and go back without warning.

"That's right, sweetheart, tonight, when you sneak out of your room and into mine so I can fill that pretty pussy with my cum."

Those were the words that did you in. "m'comingmc'comingm'coming." You came with a muffled cry, words trailing together until neither of you could tell where one ended and the next began. His fingers never ceased their movements, helping you reach your peak and come tumbling down to earth like a freight train. "Oh, god."

"No, sweetheart. S’just John."

#john winchester #john winchester imagine #john winchester fanfiction #john winchester smut #john winchester x reader #john winchester x you #john x you

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supernaturalscribe67 · 8 months

Text

Just Like Mama Used to Make

Words: 6,178

POV: 1st & 3rd Person

Pairing: John x Son!Reader - Dean/Sam x Brother!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, John Winchester, Fluff, Mention of Childhood Trauma, Mention of Death, I think that's it??

Summary: Taking inspiration from his father, the reader starts his very own journal. For his first entry, he recalls some of the memories that shaped him into the hunter that he has become.

Request:

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request John/Dean/Sam Winchester reaction to having a brother who looks like their mother and picked up hunting like breathing?

@xweirdo101x

A/N: My very first request! It kind of got away from me, but I really hope that I was able to do your request justice. Hope you like it!~

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Hello

Hey!

Dear Diary

SEPTEMBER 2014

To be honest, I have no idea how to start something like this. I was never one for writing, nor have I been one who can easily express my emotions. I guess I got that trait from the Winchester side of my family. Still, I have thought a lot about Dad’s journal lately. The things that he wrote down. It’s not detailed. It’s nowhere near what it was like growing up with him, but it still provides Dean, Sammy, and me with some information and nostalgia from time to time.

So, I figured ‘Why the Hell not’, I might as well write down some things in my own journal. I’m going to die someday anyway, and I want people to read this and be able to see what my life was like. From the good times that I spent with my family to the bad times when I lost my family. Hell, maybe this journal will get me into a history book someday when someone else discovers the Men of Letters Bunker. Who knows. Maybe I’ll be famous after I die, or perhaps it’s just wishful thinking.

This journal has already turned into a clusterfuck. I don’t even know what to write about. I can’t even think of things to write about. Should I say things about my life? Should I just write down random things I think of throughout the day? I don’t know how to do it. Even when I look at Dad’s journal for inspiration, there’s nothing to inspire in it. A lot of it is notes on how to kill monsters and other stuff is just a bunch of personal bullshit he was going through.

Well, we were all going through it.

I guess I’ll start by writing down some of the memories I’ve had. If I don’t like it, then I’ll throw this journal away and start another one. I don’t want future historians to think of me as some scatterbrained moron, despite what Sammy and Dean say at times. If you’re reading this now, I’m actually the smartest Winchester brother. Don’t believe a thing Sam and Dean say. I’m the brains of the operations and our day-to-day lives. I’ve saved them more times than I could count.

Then again, they’ve probably saved me just as much.

Alright, I’m getting side-tracked. I guess I’ll just start writing.

Should I introduce myself first before I do so?

My name is (Y/N) Winchester. I’m a hunter.

This is my story (God, that was terrible)

AUGUST 1991

I remember the first time I mentioned to my father that I wanted to be a hunter, just like him. I was six years old. Dad didn’t take it very kindly. He yelled, a lot. Screamed sometimes. I never truly understood why he would always get so upset whenever I would ask him to teach me how to hunt.

It wasn’t until I was a man that I understood why.

I look just like my mother.

I don’t know how I could have been so blind all those years. I have her hair. I have her face. I have her smile. All of these things have been said by my father before. Not necessarily when he was sober. I was always the one person that reminded my Dad of his wife. Of my mother. I think a part of him wanted to keep me safe, just so he could always look at me and remember what she looked like. Even when I was a child, though, I could see the hurt behind his eyes every once in a while when he would look at me. It made me feel guilty.

Still does.

I know that none of it is my fault, that he made himself hurt.

Still…

For months, I would ask my Dad to teach me about hunting. To teach me about the monsters that crept through the darkness. Each time I asked, he would reject my request and I would get scolded for asking such a stupid question.

So, one night, around the age of seven or eight (one of the two, I can’t remember exactly), I decided that school wasn’t very important. There were occasions when I snuck out of classes to go to the library of whatever town we were in at the time to search the limited amount of lore books that they had. There were times when I got caught by Dean before I was able to sneak out. Other times it was by Sammy. Sometimes, my father would get a call from the school because I had been reported missing.

I was a problem child, as you could tell.

It’s not that I hated school.

It just wasn’t my favorite.

And I wanted to hunt.

So, anyway…from town to town, I would skip class, go to the library, and learn everything that I could learn about hunting if there was anything to learn. Sometimes, I would ask Dean questions. Sometimes he would answer, other times he told me to not worry about it and to mind my own business. It used to hurt whenever Dean would reject any of the questions that I would ask, but I know now that it was so he didn’t get in trouble with Dad. I remember giving him a hard time about it, about not answering me. Dean, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry for being a jerk.

Then again, Dean, if you’re reading this, you shouldn’t be reading this and expect some glitter to appear in your body wash.

No one knew about my secret research. No one knew the reason behind my skipping classes. I would constantly make up lies, most of them being about how much I hated moving around and just wanted to rebel against my father. Typical kid stuff.

It wasn’t until August of 1991, when I was ten years old, that I was finally able to put that research to use.

(Y/N) stared down at the paper that rested on a notebook in his lap. His eyes were wide and filled with stress, fingers tangled in his short hair, his back slouched ever so slightly. Dean sat a couple of inches away from him near the end of the bed, his homework in his lap, while Sam leaned against the headboard, a book in his hands that he had gotten from the school library. Dean looked up from his work, noticing the look of despair on his brother’s face before he glanced down at his worksheet. Dean grimaced and let out a hiss.

“Multiplying fractions?” He asked, a hint of sympathy in his tone.

Without looking up, (Y/N) gave a short nod. Dean pressed his lips together in a thin line before he set his pencil down beside him.

“Do you need help?” Dean offered.

(Y/N) lifted his head and looked at his older brother, giving a small, soundless nod. Dean offered a smile as he moved closer to him so that they were sitting next to one another. Dean craned his neck to be able to look at the paper, tilting his head as he studied the equations.

“Which one are you having problems with?” He asked.

“All of them,” (Y/N) answered.

Dean snorted. “Okay, so, it’s easy-”

“Wow, Dean thinks math is easy?” Sam mumbled, a smirk playing on his lips.

Dean lifted his head and glared at Sam. “Shut up, bitch,”

Sam shot a bitch-face towards Dean. “You shut up, jerk,” he retorted.

(Y/N) let out a frustrated grunt. “Will both of you assholes shut up!? I don’t understand this!” His voice was filled with annoyance and desperation.

Dean and Sam shot their brother a look. Sam rolled his eyes as he returned to the book. Dean looked back down at the paper, mumbling an apology under his breath. He then began to help (Y/N) with his homework, walking him through all of the problems that he had. (Y/N) still felt as if Dean was speaking in a foreign language, but he could understand the homework a little easier.

When the paper was halfway finished, the door to the motel room suddenly burst open, causing the three brothers to jump, their eyes wide as they turned and looked at the person who had just entered. John stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him. He stomped over to the couch that sat in front of the small television set and plopped down on it. He ran his hands down his face and let a small growl emit from his throat.

Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) shared a glance, almost as if they were communicating telepathically. After a while, Dean and Sam both turned their attention toward their brother, their eyes locked on his. After looking back and forth between the two, (Y/N) let out a soundless sigh as he set his homework beside him. He moved off of the bed and padded across the aged carpet to the couch. Slowly, he walked around the sofa so that he could see his father.

John looked tired. Dark circles were prominent underneath his eyes. One of his legs was propped up on the couch while the other lay bent in front of him. His elbow rested on the arm of the sofa, his cheek placed against his right hand as he stared at the television in front of him. Nothing played. When (Y/N) came into view, John glanced at him out of the corner of his eye for a brief moment. He said nothing.

“Hey, Dad,” (Y/N) greeted. “Um…how were the, uh, interviews with the victims’ families?”

John shook his head. “Not great, kid,” he grumbled.

“No?”

“No.”

As (Y/N) stared at his father, he timidly moved over to the couch. John hesitantly moved his leg as (Y/N) sat down next to him.

“Did you…learn anything?”

“Why aren’t you boys in bed?” John grunted.

“We’re finishing our homework.”

“Then shouldn’t you be working on it?”

(Y/N)’s shoulders slouched. “I just…wanted to see how it went is all…”

“You want to know how it went?” John’s voice got deeper. “You really want to know how it went? Fucking terrible. That’s how it went,” John straightened himself out on the couch before he stood up. He began to pace around the room, his tone of voice getting more and more irritable. “I thought I had a good fucking lead going. All of the victims went to the same fucking bookstore a couple of days before their deaths and got the same book. Seems like a fucking coincidence, right? Then I go to the goddamn bookstore to see what the book was and all it was was something called Aradia or some shit like that. Some type of foreign book bullshit, I don’t fucking know.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as John continued to rant. He looked down and away from his father. He got lost, deep in thought, the words that John was speaking irrelevant to him now. Finally, he turned back to him, kneeling on the couch as he raised his brows.

“Did you say Aradia?” He questioned in the middle of John’s rant.

John stopped pacing around the room as he looked back at (Y/N). Dean and Sam’s attention immediately turned to him, their eyes wide. John’s jaw was clenched, the anger and irritation still emanating from him. “Yeah,” he replied deeply.

“Aradia…” (Y/N) trailed before he shook his head. “That’s not a foreign book, Dad! That’s only the first half of the title. The full title is Aradia or the Gospel of the Witches. It was one of the most influential pieces of literature in the nineteenth century to witches! You’re dealing with a witch!” (Y/N)’s eyes widened as a smile appeared on his face.

John’s expression went from furious to confusion. He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about that book?” He questioned.

“I read about it in a library a little bit ago.” (Y/N) answered quickly.

John pressed his tongue into his cheek as he slowly nodded his head. He looked at Sam and Dean, who were still staring with wide eyes at their brother, and then back at (Y/N). He ran a hand down his face stressfully.

“You boys finish your homework,” he mumbled as he walked towards the door. “I have to make a call.”

Without allowing anyone to respond, John left the motel room, closing the door behind him a little gentler than when he entered. (Y/N)’s smile faded as he watched his father leave, his shoulders dropping. The three brothers sat in silence for a minute before they looked at one another.

“Come on,” Dean said as he patted the spot on the bed next to him. “Let’s finish these math problems.”

Even though Dad never told me, I knew I was right. I knew it was a witch that he had dealt with. We didn’t even get to go to school the next day. He had found and killed her before I was able to turn in that math homework. What a waste of time.

I would like to think that Dad was proud of me in that situation, but he never said anything. He never brought it up again as far as I can remember. It was something that he had put in the past, along with all of the other hunts that we had been on. However, even if he wasn’t proud of me back then, I was proud of myself. Proud that I was able to help my Dad even if I wasn’t beside him when he took that bitch down.

God, I hate witches.

MAY 1993

I didn’t touch a gun until I was twelve years old. By that point, I had stopped begging Dad to teach me how to hunt, because it seemed that the only answer I was going to be getting was ‘No’. I figured that I would go to the next best person for the job.

I had to ask Dean.

Dean was very protective of Sammy and me when we were younger. He still is super protective of us, even in our ripe old ages. But because of how protective he could get, he was very hesitant about teaching me how to shoot a gun. However, with Dad talking about Dean going on hunts with him more and more by then, I knew that I would be left alone with Sammy. I used the excuse that I needed to learn how to shoot a gun eventually so that I could protect the two of us when we were by ourselves. I couldn’t be expected to be safe when the only two people who knew how to shoot were away.

That reasoning caught Dean’s attention.

After the fifth or sixth time asking him, Dean had finally agreed. A couple of days passed and, when Dad was a couple of towns away gathering information for a hunt, Dean and I skipped school. Shocking, right? I think Dean used the excuse that I hadn’t been feeling well and he had to take care of me. He even wrote out a fake doctor’s note and everything. Back then, you could get away with a handwritten note. I’m not too sure if you could now.

Once Sammy had been dropped off at school that day, Dean and I walked to a creek a couple of miles away from the school. He had set up a couple of cans on a log, some recycled stuff that he had picked up along the way. He had brought one of Dad’s small handguns with him. When he gave it to me, it felt so surreal. So different.

I never really understood what the big fuss was about, though.

Shooting a gun was easy.

“No, you can’t have your hand that low! You have it that low and the gun is going to come out of your hand when you shoot it,” Dean grumbled.

Dean took (Y/N)’s hand in his and adjusted it so that it fits perfectly onto the grip of the handgun. He then took his other hand and placed it on top of the one that was already on the gun. (Y/N) furrowed his brows as he looked at the way his hands nestled against one another.

“This doesn’t feel right.” He said. “Why can’t I just hold it with one hand like the cops do in the movies?”

“Because you’re twelve, dummy. You’re not in your forties and have years of experience under your belt,” Dean rolled his eyes. “And that is exactly how you should hold it if you don’t want to get hit in the face with your weapon after you fire it.”

(Y/N) listened intently to what his brother was saying, giving him a small nod before he straightened his back up.

“Stop.” Dean held up a hand.

(Y/N) shot Dean a confused look. “What?”

“You’re standing wrong.”

“I’m standing wrong…”

“Yeah, here,” Dean walked over, pressing his hand against the top of (Y/N)’s back ever so slightly, leaning him forward. “If you have your back too straight, then you’re more likely to fall backward. You also,” Dean kicked (Y/N)’s feet apart. “Need to have your feet apart. Keeps you more ground.”

(Y/N) looked down at the ground for a moment, taking in the appearance and feel of his stance. The way his back leaned forward and the way his legs were spread. He nodded.

“Okay, now I shoot?”

“Is your safety off?”

“Safety?”

Dean sighed, moving back over to him. He took the gun from (Y/N)’s grasp and flashed the left side of the gun. “You see this little trigger?” When Dean received a nod from his brother, he continued. “If it’s facing side-to-side, that means the safety is on. That means the gun won’t fire. All you have to do is flick this little switch,” Dean turned the safety off. “Once it’s up and down, then that means it’s ready to fire.” He handed the gun back to (Y/N). “Now, get back into position.”

(Y/N) glanced down at the safety mechanism on the gun for a moment before he nodded. He got back into the position that he was in, spreading his legs apart the same length Dean had and slouching his back forward ever so slightly. Once he received a nod of approval from Dean, (Y/N) lifted his arms, cocking his head to the side. He aimed at the can farthest to the left. He closed his left eye and placed his finger on the trigger.

“Stop!” Dean said more abruptly.

(Y/N) jumped and moved his finger off the trigger, standing up straighter to face Dean. “What!?” He asked exasperatedly.

Dean shook his head. “You can’t have one eye closed.”

“Why not? Snipers do it!”

“Because snipers are far enough away from combat. They need to look through a scope to get a good shot. You, on the other hand, are feet away from whatever monster you’re dealing with. What happens when you’re facing more than one monster? You leave yourself open to being taken out on your left.” Dean’s tone was stern, yet calm. His arms were crossed over his chest.

Slowly, (Y/N) nodded as he grasped an understanding of Dean’s thinking. “Both eyes open?”

“Both eyes open.” Dean backed up a bit. “Back into position.”

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath before resuming his position. Legs spread, back bent, arms up, head tilted, both eyes open. His goal was to hit the used can of peaches that sat on the outside of the log. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest from anxiousness and anticipation. He was surprised the gun wasn’t shaking in his grasp.

His eyes were on the cartoon peaches that were etched onto the label of the can. More specifically, the pit that sat in the center of the peach. He wanted to hit the pit. He never moved his eyes from the pit as he took a deep breath, his shoulders rising. Finally, as he exhaled, his shoulders dropping, he pulled the trigger.

The can flew into the air and seemed to dramatically and unceremoniously fall into the creek. A small splash echoed in (Y/N)’s ears, accompanied by the ringing of the gunshot.

One thing that (Y/N) noted was that his hands ached, both from the vice grip he had on the gun and the recoil that he hadn’t expected. Sure, Dean had informed him about it before, but he wasn’t sure how it would feel. His hands would definitely bruise.

(Y/N) lowered the gun, looking over at his brother to see that Dean wore a stunned expression on his face. Dean’s mouth hung open as his eyes were glued to the can that lay in the flowing water. (Y/N) watched in silence as Dean walked over to the can. He reached down and picked it up by the opening, wincing from the heat of the bullet hole before he swapped hands. He studied the can. It seemed like too much time had passed before he turned the can so (Y/N) could see.

(Y/N) had gotten it on his first try.

The bullet hole?

Right in the pit.

(Y/N) raised his brows, a mixture of pride and surprise coursing through him. A wide smile appeared on his face. Similarly, a smirk appeared on Dean’s lips. Dean chuckled before he tossed the can into the water.

“Beginner’s luck,” he said, brushing his hands onto his jeans. “Let’s see if you can hit the other ones.”

I shot through the rest of the cans, the same as I had done for that can of peaches. Not to toot my own horn, but I was a natural when it came to a pistol. I don’t mean to sound egotistic about this, but Dean can back up any statement that I’m making about this story.

I could tell that Dean was proud of me that day. He never said he was, but the way he looked at me and the way he treated me afterward told me things that words couldn’t. It’s hard to describe, but it almost felt like he had gained some respect for me that day. It felt good. Even as I am writing about this story, I can’t keep the smile off my face. I always looked up at Dean, so it feels great to think that I had done something to bring a smile to his stupid face.

My hands hurt like hell after it was all said and done. I had gotten a couple of bruises near the thumb on my right hand that I brushed off to my Dad as something that I had picked up when I got into a fight at school. Dean had backed me up when Dad got on my ass about it. Dad told me that I had to get along with the other kids so I didn’t give the wrong impression at the schools I went to. It wasn’t like they would remember me anyway. Of course, I didn’t tell him that. I knew when to bite my tongue.

Dad never found out about the shooting practice. I get a feeling that he had a sneaking suspicion as soon as he took me to practice himself years later, but I never told him about it. I never told him that Dean had been the one to teach me how to stand correctly, or where to find the safety of a gun. I know that he knew it was Dean. A part of me wonders if Dean ever got in trouble for it, or if it was something that Dad even brought up. I would never ask Dean about it now, though.

Some things are best to be left in the past.

NOVEMBER 1999

By the time I turned eighteen, I had already been on several hunts with Dad and Dean. The majority of the time, though, I would stay back and watch Sammy. Even though he was a teenager and had the capability of taking care of himself, Dad expressed that he was still a kid and needed to be looked after. A part of me thought it was bullshit at the time, but another part of me was glad that I was able to spend time with my younger brother.

Now, I know the real reason behind my staying with Sammy was because some of the hunts that Dad and Dean went on were ‘rough’. A little ‘too hard’ for me.

Dad didn’t want to lose the son that reminded him of his wife.

At least, that was what Dean told me, and I believe him.

It was a blessing and a curse, come to think of it. There were times that I stayed behind and Dad called me up, needing me to do some research for the case that they were working on. He had said it would be faster if someone was working on the research while he and Dean were out taking interviews. In the end, it was more efficient. I would gather the necessary information and hand it off to him and they would be back at the motel a lot quicker than if they had been the ones to look up the information.

That was the system that we worked with for a while. After a couple of months, Dad informed me that he didn’t want me to do the research anymore. He wanted Sammy to be the one to do it. I remember him saying that Sammy needed to focus more on the hunting aspect of his life. That school was just a waste of time at that point. He was old enough to get into it.

Sammy hated the idea when I told him. He loved school. He was always such a nerd. Still is. An even bigger nerd if you can believe it. I knew how much school meant to him, and I didn’t want him to be discouraged from doing his schoolwork. He shouldn’t have been forced to do anything that he didn’t want to. So, I decided that I was going to do the research and just tell Dad that he had been the one to do it. Sammy was thankful.

That was until Dad called.

Dad wasn't as stupid as I took him for most of the time. He knew that Sammy hadn’t done any of the research, that I was the one that did it all. By the time he and Dean got back, he gave Sammy a verbal lashing. I tried to defend him, but nothing worked. In the end, Sammy gave in. He would do the research for the next hunt.

Like clockwork, when the next hunt rolled around, with Sammy and I staying back at the motel, Dad had called. He had given Sammy the information that he needed to research and we headed off to the local library. Once we got the necessary books, we took them back to the motel and he began to work.

I could tell that it wasn’t going well.

Sam sat at the small table near the motel room door, two books placed in front of him. His back was slouched as he looked from one book to another, flipping through pages frantically. He had been going at it for several hours by then, evident by the bags that were present underneath his eyes and the redness around his pupils. (Y/N) sat on the couch, watching some old western show. Now and then he would look at his little brother. He could see how tired and stressed he was about the entire situation. (Y/N) had never seen Sam that stressed out before, even when he was studying for a test in one of his AP classes.

Eventually, Sam pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, lowering his head, as if accepting defeat. (Y/N) studied his movements, and, after he saw that he had not moved in a while, he decided the best thing to do was to help him out. He picked up the remote and turned off the television before tossing it aside. He stood from his spot on the couch and walked over to the table. He grabbed the spare chair, pulled it beside Sam, and sat down.

“Having some trouble?” He questioned.

Sam’s shoulders rose and fell as a sigh escaped his lips. He removed his hands from his face and placed them into his lengthy hair. His eyes were cast down towards the table. He stayed in the same position for some time before he looked up at (Y/N).

“No,” he answered, pulling the books towards him. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I said ‘I’m fine’,” Sam repeated through gritted teeth.

(Y/N) studied him with an expressionless face. Sam kept his eyes down, looking from one book to another. (Y/N) was able to see the stress that was emitted from his brother even better with how close he was sitting. He took one look at the books before he shook his head.

“I’m sorry Dad’s making you do this.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. You shouldn’t be doing this alone the first time…” he trailed. “But if Dad found out I helped you-”

“You’d get in trouble, and so would I. Yeah, I know.”

(Y/N) pursed his lips. “You know, it took me a little over a year to get comfortable with translating Latin. I sometimes screw up from time to time.”

“Still?”

“Yeah, still,” he chuckled. “That’s why I got something that helps me out now and again.”

With that, (Y/N) stood from his spot on the chair and waltzed over to the bed in the far corner of the room. Beside the bed sat his black duffel bag. He picked it up and placed it on the bed. He began to rummage through it, sorting through clothes and weapons that rested at the bottom. Wedged into the corner of his bag sat a book. He picked it up and brought it over to the table. He took a seat next to Sam once more and placed the book in front of him.

Sam furrowed his brows as he studied the cover. It was a Latin-English translation book. It looked rather similar to the one that he had picked up at the library. The only difference was the color of the cover was a little faded and, along the outside of the book, between all of the pages, were multi-colored Post-it notes. Each Post-it note had different letter combinations on it, as well as notes written on some of them. Sam opened the cover and he raised his brows when he saw that the first page was replaced by a notebook-sized piece of paper, taped to the front page. There were multiple words in English on the left side with their corresponding Latin translation on the right.

“What’s this?” Sam asked.

“It’s a translation book I picked up a couple of years back at a bookstore. I figured since there were going to be a lot of things that needed translating, then I was going to have to make it easier for myself to find the words. The only problem is that most of these translation books are so damn compressed that it’s hard to find certain words without getting blurry vision. So, I took the liberty to mark down all of the times when the letters change in the words. For example, when the words that start with ‘AB’ transfer to words that start with ‘AC’. It always made it easier to find. Plus, I made a page at the beginning about common words that I have found in my research so that it would be easier to translate them.”

As (Y/N) explained, he gestured with his hand toward the book. Sam listened intently, taking in all of the information that he was given, nodding his head. Once (Y/N) was done talking, Sam looked down at the book and then back up at him.

“You did all this?”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) chuckled. “Crazy, right?”

Sam snorted. “Yeah. Wish you put that much effort into your homework when you were still in school.”

“Hey,” (Y/N) leaned back in his chair and lifted his hands in mock surrender. “School was fine and all, but this is something I enjoy, and I’m good at it. I’m good at hunting research and you’re good in school.”

“And what’s Dean good at?”

“Being a pain in the ass.”

Sam smiled widely, his dimples more prominent than (Y/N) had seen in a while. After a beat or two of silence, the smile faded as he looked down.

“I wish Dad could see that I’m good at school.”

The corner of (Y/N)’s mouth curved downward. It was his turn to look down at the table. He reached over and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder comfortingly. “I know, kiddo,” he mumbled. “But Dean and I both see how much of a nerd you are. Don’t worry.”

A smile returned to Sam’s face, but it wasn’t as happy as the last one. They sat in silence for a little bit before (Y/N) lowered his hand and Sam moved back to the books.

“You got it from here?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Yeah, I got it,”

“Great,” (Y/N) said as he stood from his seat and patted Sam on the back. “Call me over if you need anything.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to call you over when I get to the part about multiplying fractions.”

(Y/N) glared at Sam and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“No, no I’m not.”

Sammy still teases me to this day about not knowing how to multiply fractions. Even though it was decades ago at this point, he still likes to tease me about it. Little shit.

With my help, Sammy was able to get the translations done a lot faster than he expected. I remember seeing the relief on his face when he had finished. Poor kid was so exhausted. Dad was more than pleased when he called and asked about it. Dad never found out that I had helped him out a bit, and neither Sammy nor I were planning on telling him. I just wanted Sammy to have an easier time than I did when I was first learning about research, specifically translations.

In the end, I would have to say that Sammy is better than me when it comes to research. He’s taken the reigns on many different hunts because of how proficient he is with technology. I’m good with old-fashioned ways of research, but Sammy’s the nerd when it comes to computers.

Sammy has told me once or twice, though, that I was the one that helped him the most when it came to his knowledge of research. That, without my help, he wouldn’t have been as good at it as he is now.

I call bullshit. Sammy has always been a smart kid.

He could do anything he put his mind to.

SEPTEMBER 2014

This is all I can write at the moment. Dean called me to the kitchen a couple of minutes ago saying that dinner was ready. I need to wrap this up before he or Sammy comes in here and sees what I’m doing. I know that I would get endlessly teased about keeping a ‘diary’. I need to make sure to hide this in a good enough place where neither of them will find it if they go snooping through my room.

Sam, Dean, if you guys are reading this, I’ll get you back.

But if you’re going to read it, I just want to let you know that I love you guys.

Not that I’m into chick-flick moments or anything.

I’m just glad that I have you guys as my brothers. No one could ask for a better family than you two.

Okay, that was cheesy. I wish I wasn’t writing this in pen so I could erase it.

Dammit.

I’m not too sure how to end this, so I guess I’ll just write again sometime when I can. Perhaps I could do like Dad did in his journal and write about all of the new monsters we have discovered over the years. Or maybe write more memories down. This journal is going to be so cluttered that no one is going to want to read it. There’s no way I’m going to get famous from this.

Dean just called me to the kitchen again.

Until next time.

Happy hunting. (That was stupid, think of something better).

WE LOVE YOU TOO - SAM + DEAN

219 notes · View notes

kittenofdoomage · 10 months

Text

Sweetheart

Summary: Sometimes he's a hunting partner, sometimes he's... something else.

Pairing: John Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: 2060

Warnings: Backseat of the truck smut (including fingering, dirty talk, full penetrative sex), teasing, very little in the way of plot - 18+ content.

Ao3 (over 800 fics to read!)

Author's Note: Yeah, I know I don't post much here anymore, but I'm having a crappy day, and I feel like some other people might be having crappy days too so I thought some John PWP might cheer someone up, I dunno 🤣

You had always prided yourself on your ability to cope without anyone else around, but there was something about John Winchester that kept dragging you back to his side, although this time it was the final death of your beloved Camry that had put you firmly in the passenger seat of his truck. He had been fresh off of a ghoul hunt, and you were planning on chasing down a spirit in Kentucky - turning down his help would have been rude. It didn’t hurt that the man was pretty to look at, even if he was hard to get a read on. The last few times you had hunted together had ended in some of the most fantastic sex you could have ever imagined but since he’d come to your rescue, he had barely looked your way.

“Have I pissed you off?” you asked, watching him from your side of the front seat.

He spared you a glance that lasted only a second, and his lips twitched as if they wanted to curl into a smile. “Not at all, sweetheart. It’s just been a long few months.” You pulled a face, looking out of the window at the rolling corn fields, illuminated by the setting sun. John chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “Was I giving you the impression you had?”

“I dunno,” you sighed with a shrug. “You’re normally a little more… interested.”

“We got a thousand miles to cover,” he pointed out. “I figured you’d wanna get some shuteye.”

“I’m good for a few hours.”

“You can put the radio on if you want.”

He wasn’t getting it, though you hadn’t met a man yet that was good with hints. Sighing again, you leaned forward, switching the radio on and fiddling with the dial until you found a station playing something you liked. John didn’t seem to care about the music, focusing on the road ahead as it darkened once the sun had disappeared behind the corn.

Finding a motel on the back roads he was taking was next to impossible, so when he pulled onto a secluded side road and parked up a few hours later, you didn’t complain. The truck had a back seat in addition to the front bench, and he gave you the choice of which you wanted, and it was all you could do not to suggest sharing. Instead, you climbed over and tried to get comfortable underneath a blanket, attempting to actually sleep when all you wanted was laying less than two feet away.

Your fantasies were running wild, leaving you uncomfortably aroused, replaying the last time he’d actually touched you over and over in your mind. It wasn’t in you to come out and say it, to ask him for what you really wanted, and your fingers itched to take care of the problem, the little devil voice in the back of your mind encouraging you on, promising he wouldn’t notice, though you probably wouldn’t have minded if he did. Still, you didn’t move, glaring daggers into the back of the seat concealing him from your sight.

After your tenth heavy sigh of frustration, you heard him shift. “You okay back there?”

“Mmhmm.”

A beat passed, then he moved again, dark eyes suddenly peering at you over the top of the driver’s side of the bench seat, one eyebrow quirked high. “You don’t sound okay.”

Your mind scrambled for an excuse, avoiding the obvious answer of telling him the truth. “It’s a little cold,” you mumbled, shrugging lightly.

He huffed out a tiny laugh, then disappeared from sight, rocking the whole truck a second later as he hoisted himself over the top and into the back of the cab. You squeaked when he tugged you out of the way with a gruff “scoot over” and settled behind you, warm arms encircling you from behind.

“Better?” he asked.

You shivered at the close contact, feeling him press along the whole length of your body, one hand splayed possessively over your belly. Outside the truck, it started to rain, drops splattering heavily against the windows. “Yeah,” you breathed, hoping he couldn’t sense the quiver in your tone.

“Shame we didn’t come across a motel,” John murmured, hot breath fanning across your throat, the sensation making a beeline to your cunt and your insides clenched. “This ain’t so bad though, right, sweetheart?”

Forcing your eyes shut, you closed your eyes, trying not to think about how easy it would be for him to take you like this. His body was so warm against yours, and even with the material between you, you imagined you could feel his cock pressing into you from behind, inspiring a fresh wave of moisture at your core. John’s nose brushed the shell of your ear, and you couldn’t help the tiny noise that escaped your lips, a moan he didn’t miss.

“What was that?” he asked with a playful tone, the hand on your belly slipping just a little lower.

“Nothing,” you exhaled, shaking your head.

“Hmmm, it didn't sound like nothing.”

He was fucking with you now, you were sure of it. “I can’t sleep,” you complained, still keeping your eyes closed. He hummed again, lips on the back of your neck now, hand gently tugging your lower half harder into his body. “You’re too…”

“Too what?” he teased.

You groaned, finding it increasingly hard to resist the urge to grind back against him. “John,” you mewled, almost choking on air.

“Thought you were cold, sweetheart?” he grunted, pulling your ass flush with his crotch, letting you feel the outline of his erection through the fabric of his pants and yours. You gasped, grabbing the edge of the seat underneath you as you let your body react, pushing back into him.

“Stop calling me that,” you whined.

“What, sweetheart?” He chuckled, lips against your ear again. “Why would I do that when I know how fucking wet it gets you?” The moan you let loose this time was louder, and he laughed, letting his fingers brush underneath the front of your pants. “You think I didn’t notice you squirming away all day? What were you thinking about? Maybe the last time we saw each other?” You nodded, biting your lips when his fingertips crept underneath your waistband. “Hmmm, it’s been on my mind too.”

You writhed in his hold, desperate for his touch to be lower, but he seemed intent on teasing you. Another needy gasp of his name made him laugh again, and you whimpered, pinned in his strong hold. His fingers made short work of the buttons on your jeans, bypassing the thin cotton panties covering you until he was brushing against your wet folds, a low moan reverberating against your ear.

“Goddamn, I forgot how wet this sweet little pussy could get,” he rumbled. “Haven’t forgotten how good you felt wrapped around my cock though, sweetheart. Been losing sleep thinking about it.”

His words made you whimper, and you arched your back as a single fingertip found your clit, circling it as he pressed his lips to your neck. He kept moving his hand, inspiring a shudder that ran up the length of your spine before descending again, and when you parted your thighs to try and give him more room, he chuckled.

“That’s it, sweetheart.”

The pet name did exactly what he wanted it to do, and you felt your entire body tighten in anticipation as his hand dug further into your pants, two thick digits finding your soaked entrance. He didn’t hesitate, sinking them into you as far as he could, restricted by the denim but still enough to make you cry out his name in ecstasy. When he pulled his hand away in the next moment, you went to protest, only for him to tug at your pants until they were slipping over your hips.

“Get these off,” he ordered, and you rushed to obey, barely noticing him reaching for his own belt. The backseat of the truck was bigger than the average car, but it still restricted your movements, and it took a few seconds to push your pants down, kicking your sneakers off so you could discard them entirely. John didn’t even bother with his boots, shoving his pants down to his ankles before lifting, forcing you to roll onto your back.

You looked up at him breathlessly, aware of his cock pressing against your inner thigh. “John -”

“Ssh,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss you as he reached between your bodies. Instinctively, you lifted your knees, parting your thighs as much as you could, moaning when you felt the thick head of his cock brush through your folds. “You ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked, teasing you with the threat of penetration, letting your slick coat his skin.

You couldn’t force the words out, nodding as you stared up at him wide-eyed, feeling the throb in your core. He grinned, kissing you again as he pushed forward, breaching you with one hard stroke, burying himself deep inside. The sound you made was muffled by his lips, and you threw your arms around his neck as he slipped his hands underneath your shoulders, letting his weight pin you down. It was almost suffocating but only in a way that made you feel incredibly satisfied.

He remained still for a moment, looking down at you with an odd look on his face, but you were too drunk on him to give it much thought, squirming in an effort to make him move. When you whined needily, John grinned, rolling his hips into you to let you feel how deep he was. “Impatient?” he chided softly, kissing along your jaw.

You keened quietly, glancing up at the window as the rain got a little harder against, seeing nothing but darkness beyond the glass. “Something like that,” you whispered back, sliding one hand across the back of his neck to pull him into a deeper kiss, rocking your hips to encourage him to move.

He finally started to withdraw, sinking in again before he could escape the clutch of your slick channel entirely, and you moaned on his reentry, trying to find purchase on the leather with your feet. When he slammed into your sweet spot, your toes curled and you moaned into his mouth, breaking the kiss to cry out.

“Gonna get you in a bed tomorrow night, sweetheart,” he panted, moving faster, harder, punching the breath out of you with each thrust. You released your hold on him to grab at the headrest with one hand and the door above you with the other, whining through the build up of pleasure as he lifted enough to get better leverage behind his strokes. It was too easy to come apart for him, but he wasn’t satisfied with how quickly you broke. His hand dipped between your bodies, and when his thumb brushed your clit, you cried out, bucking onto him, tossing your head back.

“John!” you gasped, chest heaving.

He grinned, rubbing the tiny bud with the calloused pad of his thumb in time with his thrusts. “Just let go,” he crooned. “Gimme everything you got.”

With a high-pitched cry, you came, arching up as you clung to the headrest. John growled, taking the opportunity to slide his arm underneath your back, fucking you through your orgasm almost like you were a ragdoll. His climax was hot on the heels of yours, drawn out by the pulsing of your walls around him, and he groaned into your throat as he spilled into you, slowing to a stop as his seed dribbled out around his shaft.

Both of you were still and silent as you came down from your respective highs. He nuzzled at your throat, slowly letting you fall back onto the seat, still buried deep. You made no attempt to move, content with the weight of him inside and on top of you, warm from head to toe.

“You said something about a bed,” you mumbled, rolling your head to look at him as he gazed at you.

“Tomorrow night,” he replied, smoothing his hand over your shirt to cup your breast through the fabric. “As spacious as this truck is, I wanna see you all spread out for me.” He leered as you moaned, cunt clenching around his renewing erection. “Sweetheart.”

I love feedback, btw 😘

#john winchester fanfiction #john winchester x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #reader insert #adult fiction

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random-imagines-blog · 1 year

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Imagine being caught in an intimate moment with John Winchester by Sam and Dean.

Being around John just had a way of making you feel alive, making you feel taken care of, making you feel like you actually deserve the good things in life that sometimes popped up through all of the bullshit. You just finished a rigorous lovemaking session with him, and you were still feeling the afterglow of it, radiating with it.

Only the blanket gave you any kind of modesty. You were propped up on your arms, stomach to the bed, while caressing John’s cheek beside you. “You’re way too good at that,” You laughed. He smiled at you, facial hair giving him a grizzly appearance.

“I aim to please,” He said, rolling onto his side. He kissed your fingers, all while stroking your ribs under the blanket, over the curve of your ass and then -

The door to your motel room opened. It didn’t fly open but it was still quick enough where you couldn’t hide anything that you were doing. The sons of the man that you were currently in bed with just let themselves in, and it took them a moment to comprehend what they were seeing. John was on the jump though, sitting up as fast as he could. “GET OUT.” He shouted.

“What the hell-” Dean let out, while Sam started to stammer some kind of excuse. You let yourself drop down onto your chest and put the pillow overtop of your head, trying to hide as much of yourself as possible. They knew it was you. Who else would it be. But the awkwardness was overwhelming.

“OUT.” John yelled, and this time they got the message. Sam grabbed Dean by the shoulders and pulled him back outside, the heavy door closing shut in their faces. It blocked out whatever conversation they were having out there. “Y/n? You okay?”

“Well that was utterly humiliating,” You mumbled into the pillow. He lifted it off of you and laughed a little as some of your hairs stuck to the pillow, making them rise. “I don’t know how I’m going to sit with them in the car tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” John repeated. “It’s already morning. We leave in less than an hour.”

You groaned, realizing that you had missed a night of sleep. You had a lot of fun during it obviously, but that was going to be catching up to you later. “Coffee?”

“The Irish kind.” John agreed.

Requested by: Anonymous

#John Winchester #John Winchester x reader #John Winchester imagines #Supernatural #Supernatural imagines #imagines #x reader #request #johnwinchester

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impala-dreamer · 2 months

Note

please Tell Me About John Winchester x Reader and Exhibitionism!

A Quick Break

John Winchester x Reader

997 Words (oops)

NSFW, Exhibitionism, Sex Things

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

The motel room was stuffy and dark. Y/N was tired of squinting into the shadows and the damned lamps were dimmer than than the idiot cops they’d interviewed that morning. With a huff, she slammed her book down on the bed and leapt up. Her bare toes dug into the plush blue carpet as she padded to the window and threw back the curtains.

A plumage of dust scattered into the room, but the sunlight was welcomed and warm.

“I don’t know why you always insist on workin’ in the dark,” she said, hoping to rock John from his stupor.

He was hard at it, chewing on a pen cap while scanning the surrounding towns’ newspapers from the last two weeks. He cocked a brow and peered over at her.

“Because I like it,” he answered simply.

Y/N closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face. “Yeah, well, I can’t see shit.”

The large, single window ran the entire length of the short front wall and faced the pool area. Like the room, the pool wasn’t much to look at, but a few lodgers were making use of its cooling, overly chlorinated waters. Y/N sighed, wondering if she could coax him into going for a dip.

“We could use a break, ya know…”

John hummed non-commitally. “I guess.”

She turned and pressed her back against the glass. “You have been workin’ real hard, Johnny…”

Hazel eyes lit up with interest. She was the only one who ever called him that, and despite the less-than-manly quality to the nickname, he loved it.

“I suppose.”

She smiled and bit her lip as he stared her way. The mid-day sun was haloing her in bright light and he couldn’t help the twing of desire in his gut. Her curves were sexy silhouettes, her position in the window was one that teased ‘come get me’.

He answered the call before she could register what he was doing.

John swept in, grabbing her up into his big arms and licking at her lips. Y/N melted instantly. Her eyes fell closed, her lips softened and parted. She hummed into his mouth as his hands slid down her body, lovingly gripping each delicious curve.

Pulling back, she grinned up at him. “Take me to bed…” Her whisper was sultry, her eyes inviting.

John licked his lips and shook his head. He eyed the pool, the patrons splashing about not more than a dozen yards from their room. With a devilish smirk, he bent down to kiss her again, this time diving deep between her lips as he cupped her left breast. She squirmed against him, her body opening for him in every way that it could. His scruff scraped at her lips, his rough hands scratched her sides. He slipped a hand into her shorts and she gasped.

Looking over her shoulder, Y/N counted six people close by. “John- don’t-”

He tapped at her clit and her body jolted with desire. “You want me to stop?” He pressed down lightly and her eyes glazed over.

She swallowed hard. “Um… no? I just… there’s people right there.”

John laughed and bent to kiss her throat as he dragged his middle finger slowly through her pussy lips. She shivered and he licked at her ear. “So? Let them watch.”

Her heart pounded, her knees spread a little wider. She nodded breathlessly. “OK…”

With a hard kiss, John pressed her into the window. The sunkissed glass hit the small of her back; warm and firm. She could feel phantom eyes upon her, and she prayed that the glare from the sun was hiding her writhing form.

John dipped two fingers in deep and flickered his thumb over her clit. Every moan was swallowed by a kiss, every buck of her hips was met with a thrust of his hand. She clung to his broad shoulders, licked at his throat, desperately tried to be involved when all she really wanted was to lay back and have him fuck her until the walls came down around them.

“Johnny,” she moaned, “need your cock… please…”

He growled aganist her lips and withdrew his hand from her shorts, immediately moving to open his belt. Once more, Y/N moved to scoot around him and run for the bed, but again, he stopped her.

“No.” He shook his head and tugged on the waistband of her shorts. “Right here.”

She hesitated, an innocent pout turning her lip. “But-”

A big hand gripped her hip, tugging her close. “Now.”

Y/N held her breath as John lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his trim waist and let out a hard huff as he propped her up against the window.

“This is bad,” she laughed.

He grinned. “Is it?” His erection nudged at her cunt.

She shuddered and whined. “No. Good. Do it. Please.”

John slammed into her and she worried for a moment that the glass would shatter, but it held strong.

Her nails dug into the back of his neck; his hands cupped her ass.

The sun beat down on the window, highlighting but hiding their bodies. If anyone was watching from the pool, they made no scene; blissfully unaware of the orgasmic pulse still working its way through Y/N’s shaking body as John set her down on the blue carpet. She fell to her knees and took his cock in her mouth, finishing the job while the lodgers swam, oblivious.

His palms flat on the window, he jerked his hips in a quick rhythm, forcing her to keep up or choke. When she buried her face in the black hair around his cock, he came, spurting down her delicate throat.

He helped her to her feet. She smiled with cum-drunk happiness.

“How’s that for a break?” he asked.

Y/N laughed and slumped forward into his arms. “It was pretty good,” she replied. “But, I still wanna go for a swim...”

#spn fanfic #john winchester #john winchester x reader #john x reader #drabble #tell me about

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avada-kedavra-bitch-187 · 9 days

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Tryna find a fic where John Winchester used to be with reader but now she is either with Sam or dean and she had his baby and he didn’t know till she showed up married to Sam/dean at his wedding

Like he wouldn’t acknowledge that they were together and engaged and he gets with someone else

Its disposable by @holylulusworld

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samsexualdeancurious · 9 months

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Filthy Mouth (NSFW)

Pairing: John x Reader

Words: 1,068

Summary: A joke turns into something more.

Warnings: Dom!John, Sub!Reader, spanking, gags, orgasm denial

Written for an Angel Patron prompt

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“Shit,” Y/N mumbles under her breath when her elbow, swinging around from putting her drink down, knocks her fry container off the table. It’s only a few fries, thankfully. Mostly crumbs and loose salt.

“Watch your fucking language,” John says with a smirk.

He’s teasing, a normal occurrence between them. He’s almost old enough to be her father. A little teasing comes with the territory.

All sense of playfulness leaves him, though, when she meets his eyes across the table and says with complete seriousness, “Make me.”

John is on his feet before he even really thinks about what he’s doing. He rounds the small table in one step and his hand presses flat against her collarbone, sliding up to curl around her neck and force her to look up at him. Her expression is defiant but he feels the way her breath catches, the quickening of her pulse under his fingertips.

“Baby girl,” he says, pitching his voice lower and chuckling at the resulting shiver. “Would you like to repeat that for me?”

“Make. Me.”

His fingers press up against the underside of her jaw, guiding her to her feet. Once she’s upright, he gives her a gentle push toward the bed.

“Strip,” John orders.

There’s no room in his tone for her to sass back. She quickly sheds her clothes. She almost leaves them in a pile but John’s stern expression prompts her to fold them carefully.

“Good,” he says once she stands in front of him, naked as the day she was born. “You can follow instructions.”

Y/N pouts and keeps her chin held high. John steps close, close enough to feel her breath on his lips, but doesn’t touch. He can feel her shivers of anticipation regardless.

“Bend over the bed.”

“Fuck you.”

John’s eyebrows shoot up. Oh. So that’s how she wants to play this.

Her eyes widen minutely when John’s hand finds the back of her neck and she’s dragged toward the bed. He bends her over, her hands flying up to stop herself from face planting into the mattress and he allows that for now.

“What is your safeword?” he asks.

“Pickles,” she answers with a glance over her shoulder.

John pets one hand down the curve of her spine to settle in the small of her back. “Again.”

“Pickles.”

“Good. And if you’re gagged?”

“The buzzer.”

John nods, pleased. “Stay.”

He steps away and Y/N, by some miracle, does stay. Her eyes are locked on him, though, as he makes his way to her duffle bag and digs out the items he needs. A ball gag, the buzzer in question, and a bottle of lube.

“What are you going to do?” Y/N asks, surprisingly snarky for someone in her position, when John returns to her side.

“Make you.”

The ball gag goes in with a little fight but soon Y/N is glaring at him over it, that perfect mouth stretched open around the red silicone. John kisses her forehead and feels her soften under the touch. The buzzer is pressed into her hand but Y/N doesn’t move her thumb anywhere near the button, very clearly okay with the direction tonight is going.

“Pretty,” John purrs as he walks around to stand behind Y/N. “How does someone so pretty have such a dirty mouth?”

Y/N makes some sounds that are probably curse words but cut off with a yelp when John’s palm makes contact with her ass. A second smack results in a low moan, though, and John smirks.

“Yeah, I know my girl.”

He takes his time, spreading the blows evenly across all that lovely skin. Left, right, left, right. Thigh, sit spot, the sweet curve he loves to grab when she’s all dressed up in or Fed skirt or that one particular pair of jeans. She makes the sweetest noises the whole time, dancing the line between pain and pleasure, and John soaks it up.

John doesn’t stop until her skin is warm to the touch and Y/N is arching back into his hand with desperate, muffled sounds. Her feet have been kicked wider apart and her hips are tilted up in offering. John’s cock would be hard anyways but that sight, with the clear display of her hungry pussy as the cherry on top, has him throbbing in the prison of his jeans.

“Not much of a punishment if you enjoy it.” He pairs the teasing words with a thumb pulling at one side of her pussy, spreading her folds for his gaze as he ponders what to do next. She whines and he sees her clench around nothing. “I’m not sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

Y/N just pants into the gag and waits for his decision.

John presses the tip of his thumb just inside the perfect slick heat of her body and listens to her choked-off little whimpers. He can feel her body fighting to hold still. She wants more but she knows that if she tries to take it before John is ready to give it to her, she’ll get nothing at all.

“If I fuck you,” John says slowly, “you don’t get to cum.”

Y/N protests before he can continue and he silences her his palm on her left thigh.

“Let me finish,” he scolds. “Either you cum like this, while I play with you, or I fuck you and you don’t cum. Not unless I’m persuaded to change my mind. What do you think?”

She’s silent for a moment and then she lowers her shoulders to the mattress, arms folded to brace herself, and tilts her hips up in clear invitation. Presents for him. John laughs darkly. He had a feeling she would choose that option.

“Found myself a hungry little pussy. Don’t worry. I know exactly what you need.”

He considers removing the gag but decides to leave it for now. Maybe later, when he gives her a chance to beg for her orgasm. For now, he frees his cock at last and teases the head between her folds. Listens to the needy little sound she makes in the back of her throat.

“Gonna have to gag you more often,” he decides out loud. “Get that filthy mouth under control.”

He thumbs at the head of his cock, popping it inside with a press, and smiles to himself at her moan.

—

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#my writing #supernatural #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #spn fanfiction #john x reader #john winchester #john winchester x reader #john winchester/reader

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 7 months

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Rage Monster

John Winchester x daughter!reader, Sam and Dean x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you have a bit of a “girl rage” moment, and the men don’t know how to react.

It was just one of those mornings. Everything, from the sound of your alarm to the sound of Sam and Dean’s chattering, was driving you absolutely insane. There was no particular reason for it, you just couldn’t deal with…anything.

“Hey kid, ready to go?”

Especially this. Driving all day in Dean’s car with his annoying music, stuck in a confined space with three men.

You were tired of it, to say the least, and you weren’t sure you could handle it today.

“Y/N?” John’s voice broke through your consciousness, and you looked up. “C’mon, it’s time to go.”

“Fine,” you hadn’t meant for the word to come out so aggressively, but based on John’s reaction, that’s how it came out.

“Hey, you alright?” Sam cut in before John could respond.

“Peachy,” you rolled your eyes.

“Someone’s grumpy this morning,” Dean said.

“Maybe because my brother’s a douchebag,” even though you mumbled it, you knew everyone in the room could hear.

“Hey, that’s enough!” John barked. “What is the matter with you?”

“Could you guys get off my case for five minutes?”

“Go wait in the car,” John demanded. “If you’re not gonna watch your tone, then you’re not gonna speak, understand?”

You knew you should quit while you were behind, but your anger was now more potent then ever.

“Fine! Any minute I get to spend away from you guys is a blessing!” You stormed out of the room, slamming the motel door behind you.

Dean was the first to break the silence.

“What the heck was that?”

…

John was the first one to venture out to the car, instructing the boys to stay in the motel.

He stayed silent for a long minute after he entered the Impala. If it was one of the boys, he would’ve started talking right away, demanding an explanation for that kind of behavior. But he’d learned somewhere along the line that things turned out better between you and him if he let you think things out.

Of course, if the next words out of your mouth were something sassy, he wouldn’t hesitate to set you straight. But he had a feeling that you weren’t as angry as you thought you were.

“I’m sorry,” your voice broke the silence, and John expertly hid the smile that threatened to creep up. He wasn’t about to let you off the hook so easily, and he certainly wasn’t going to let you see his relief.

“What was all that?”

“I don’t know,” John nearly cringed at the sound of your voice, which was thick and high-pitched. You were trying not to cry. You didn’t often cry, so he usually didn’t have to worry about it, but every once in a while it would happen, and he didn’t know what to do.

When the boys got emotional, it usually ended in some kind of loud argument, which he knew how to handle. Your emotions, however, sometimes came out differently.

“I’m gonna need something better than that.”

“I really don’t know,” you fisted your sleeves in your hands, pulling your knees up to your chest. “It—I just…I’m sorry, really. I’m just…tired, I guess.”

This was a pathetic excuse, and both of you knew it. But John was almost certain that you were being honest with him.

“Ok,” he said finally.

“Ok?”

“Well, no, what you did was not ok,” he admitted. “But I forgive you. But I don’t ever wanna hear that tone again, understand?”

“Yes sir,” your voice was clearer now, but you kept your face dropped down against your knees.

“If you’re feeling like that again, just say something and we’ll leave you be. But there’s no excuse for snapping like that.”

“Yes sir.”

“Hey, look at me,” John finally let a ghost of a smile show on his face when your eyes met his, and you reciprocated it. “Well now that this is all cleared up, I think we should hit the road. But I think you should take a nap back here, alright? I’ll tell Dean to turn his music down, and we’ll leave you alone for a bit.” This was both a way to keep tensions down, and perhaps a way to get you to think about how you’d been acting. John was pretty proud of that little bit of parenting.

“Ok,” you agreed.”

John smiled again.

“Ok.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean and sam #dean winchester x you #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural dean #the winchesters #winchesters x reader #winchesters x sister #john winchester x daughter!reader #john winchester #john winchester x reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x you #spn sam winchester #sam winchester x y/n

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happy74827 · 2 years

Text

Haunted Memory

[Winchester Family & Winchester!Reader]

Synopsis: Even after 10 years, the Winchesters can’t let go of the past (Written in Dean’s POV).

WC: 1,893

Category: Angst, Character Death

To be honest, I have no idea what made my mind come up with this lmao, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Feel free to reblog and drop a few comments, I’d love to hear what you think about this one.

『••✎••』

Dean stood between them with tears that threatened to fall down his cheeks. His body froze as he was mortified by what had been said.

Just moments prior, he was begging his father and brother to stop arguing. Begging for a moment of peace between them but it was futile. He was a ghost, unable to be seen and heard. All he was able to do was watch and witness the argument enter chaos.

“Sam,” The eldest Winchester growled, fury hidden in his dark chocolate eyes. His hair was all matted, his body worn out from the current stress they were under. Dean could tell his dad was tired, tired of everything. “Don’t start this now.”

“No, Dad, I think I will.” Sam slammed the duffle bag on the ground, his hands gripping the end bar of the bed. A mash of green and purple radiated his knuckles as he clenched his palms to fists. “You think I wouldn’t find out? The stuff from Bobby? You’re planning on bringing the demon here, aren’t you? To have some… stupid macho showdown.”

“I have a plan, Sam—“

“That is exactly my point! Dean is dying, and you have a plan!” The young Winchester’s eyes flashed angrily, his grip tightening with every word. “You know… you care more about this demon than you do your own sons!”

At this, John exploded. Fury blinded him as he sat up, pointing his index finger at the boy. “Do not tell me how I feel! I am doing this for Dean.”

“How?! How’s revenge gonna help him?!“ Sam’s cheeks flushed, and his facial muscles became rigid. His hand released the bar, momentarily, before slamming back down onto it once again. “You’re not thinking about anyone but yourself, it’s the same selfish obsession.”

“Come on guys, don’t do this!” Dean pleaded, his eyes begging towards Sam, but nothing could be heard.

“It’s funny you know what, I thought this was your obsession too.” John argued, “this demon… it killed your mother, killed your girlfriend—“

“…but it didn’t kill her, now did it?”

The sounds of footsteps running back and forth. That could be heard all from within the room. The silence was deafening. Dean swore he could hear his own heart shatter into a million pieces as his eyes glossed over at his brother who, he himself, had to take a minute to realize what came out of his mouth.

Dean knew and understood the pain that Sam carried. John was never a good father to them, he was more of a drill sergeant than anything, but deep down he knew his father loved him. Loved all of you in his own twisted little way.

That’s why when Sam spat out that sentence, it stung him like venom as his angry self conscious knew it would.

Their sister, you, was an untouchable topic. It pained each and every one of them to think about it. Even the mention of it made Dean want to drown himself in alcohol to forget. Of course it never worked. He never forgot. He couldn’t. It was deeply engrained in his mind.

As Dean recalled, his 16-year old self was helping his dad pack the Impala for another drive. For another motel and another hunt. John had just wrapped up a werewolf hunt, killing its pack, before coming back to collect you all.

However, his father had unknowingly made the fatal mistake of not double tapping them, causing them to follow him home, leading them straight to you and Sam.

Dean remembered the gunshots and the screams of terror coming from the third story. He remembered the exact way his father knew the sound of his daughter, you, at the speed of a snap — reaching for his shotgun in the trunk compartment before storming up the stairs in lightning speed. Dean had followed close behind, not knowing what else to do.

John had loaded his shotgun “Terminator Style” before kicking the door open, revealing the horrific sight that Dean was never able to leave behind.

Sam was crying uncontrollably in the corner, petrified, as a werewolf laid on top of you. His claws deep in your chest. Dean had scanned the room, finding two more dead on the floor with a pistol residing just a couple feet from your bloodied-up hand.

In a half of a second, he had pieced together what had happened.

The window, which allowed your screams to echo down to the car, was infiltrated by the three werewolves that John had evidently missed. Two of them probably rushed Sam which resulted in silver-bullet headshots by you with dad’s pistol that he’d must’ve left on the table. The third, however, must’ve caught you by surprise, resulting in the pistol being knocked out of your reach.

John moved like a machine, rapidly shooting and reloading as he approached you, causing Dean to drag sobbing 11-year old Sam behind him to safety.

The werewolf looked up, growling and hissing with its teeth before one of John’s bullets went through its eyes, causing it to release its grip on you. After a few more bullets to the chest, Dean watched as his father pulled the corpse off of you, dropping his gun, before encasing you in his arms.

“Sweetheart, h-honey..” John’s voice was shaken, quivering as he took in the sight you. Dean couldn’t forget the amount of blood that stained the carpet, stained the furniture. It was nauseating.

He could still hear your whimpers and silent cries in his mind. You couldn’t speak or move, only gasping for air as dad started to apply a tourniquet with his belt against your gushing leg, one of the many wounds you had. Your name came out as whispers as he pleaded you to stay awake for him.

Dean still remembered the urgency in his dad’s voice. It was shaken and panicked, a sound he’d never heard from his father before. “Dean! Get me the towels out of the bathroom… all of them, now!”

After finishing the tourniquet, John had wrapped and packed your entire stomach with towels like you were a pillow case. Dean eventually had to drag Sam out of his frozen state by the arm, following his dad who rushed down the stairs, gingerly carrying you within his arms.

The drive to the hospital was John going about thirty miles over the speeding limit, barking orders at the boys to keep pressure on your stomach. Dean’s mind finally caught up with him as his hands found themselves covered with blood. You were dying.

His baby sister was dying.

And that you did, three nights later. And the bitch of it was? You had just turned fourteen.

Two weeks prior, you held an untamable smile when Dean was able to scrap enough extra money for the camera you had always wanted. Now, that birthday was a haunted memory. A joyful memory that was replaced with darkness.

Your heart gave out when Dean held your hand, begging for you to pull through. In a matter of seconds he and Sam were thrown out of the room, their eyes bloodshot with tears as the nurses and doctors shut the door and closed the binds.

The entire time of you being in the hospital, dad had only visited you twice — the first time was when you had gotten out of surgery. After seeing you in the hospital bed, all broken, he couldn’t bare to look at you. His heart sank at the constant reminder that he failed his daughter. His only job was to protect his kids and he failed. And for that, he had Bobby watch the boys for those long nights while dad sat there in the waiting room, refusing to see the pain he had inflicted.

The second time he saw you was when you were pronounced dead.

One thing about John Winchester was that he never allowed his kids to see him break down, especially little Sam. To him, he needed to be strong for them. Because in his eyes, “someone had to.” It was part of the reason why he’d dumped you all on Bobby’s porch so much. When his walls were about to shatter, he made sure you were all out of sight.

But that night, he cracked. His walls broke down and Dean witnessed it all.

Bobby had taken Sam to get some ice cream, offering Dean to join, but he’d declined wanting to stay behind for you. If there was a chance you’d wake up again, he wanted to be there when you did.

Dean was sitting in the waiting room when the doctors called it. He was unaware for a few minutes, waiting anxiously as his father disappeared into the hall with the doctor. It was about five minutes after midnight — twenty minutes later — when he heard crashes and sobs coming from the mens bathroom.

Dean quietly left his chair to investigate the noise to which he had soon regretted when he had peeked inside. His father was in the midst of smashing the sink’s mirror against the marble flooring, following with broken and angry sobs. The entire bathroom was destroyed. Toilet paper were covering each stall. The floors were covered in glass from the other mirrors with toilet paper holders that were smashed to oblivion… never in his life had Dean witnessed his father shattered from the inside out.

It was at that moment that your older brother realized you didn’t make it through the night. His father’s actions were confirmation enough.

Dean never spoke a word to this about Sam or John. He kept his discovery silent, acting shocked with Sam once Bobby confirmed the sad news. He had also found out later it was Bobby and dad’s old pal, Deacon, who paid the bill and the property damage.

After the burial, he never saw dad like that again. He became cold, colder than before. John had failed and so he practically dropped the father act completely, becoming a drill sergeant. Every chance he got, John shoved the hunter life and survival instincts down his kids’ throats. Never letting them forget it.

From there he’d done some pretty awful things, but the one thing he never did was blame your death onto them. Your death was a “horrid accident” as Bobby said, stating that it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

Being the older brother, he had to constantly remind those words to Sam as the guilt for standing in the corner, watching the werewolf do nothing but tear your insides out, took over. A lot of those nights ended in Sam crying uncontrollably in his brother’s arms, faintly listening to Dean hum Hey Jude in his ear.

The memory made Dean shed a tear as he glanced back towards his broken family.

John had remained still, the anger long washed away at the slightest mention of you. It was evident the guilt still haunted him.

When Sam started up the fight again, bringing another past incident up, Dean drawed the line and surprised himself by Swayze-ing the glass that the nurse had left for their father. The two breathing Winchester’s paused rather quickly, with the youngest realizing that it hadn’t just been the two of them in there alone.

And unbeknownst to Dean, he wasn’t the only non-breathing Winchester in the room either.

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holylulusworld · 5 months

Text

After the rain

Summary: You run into an alpha.

Pairing: Alpha! (AU) John Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: fluff, meet cute, May–December romance, flirting, a/b/o

Written for: Winter Break Advent: Day 5 - Meet Cute (couple)

Written for: @j3bingo (former JDM omega verse bingo): Square 6: Free Space – Meet Cute

Written for: @anyfandomfluffbingo: Square 8: The Olive Theory

Words: 1130+

It wasn’t in your plans to lose your composure in public and cry. Especially not at a wedding that isn’t yours.

Maybe it’s because you watched your ex gets all cozy with your best friend, or the fact that now that your cousin is married you are the last unmated omega in your family.

You never gave much about tradition and getting married or mated before turning thirty. Some omegas even freak out if they don’t find a mate before they turn twenty. You never were this kind of omega.

But now that you sit at the table, cheering for a cousin you haven’t seen in years, tears roll down your cheeks.

“Aw, you are moved to tears from the speech,” your aunt coos. She smiles and pats your hands. Your aunt is proud of her daughter, and you don’t have the heart to tell her that your tears have nothing to do with your cousin’s wedding.

“It’s a,” you choke on your tears, “very moving speech. I’m sorry.” You lie and give her a cracked smile. “She must be very happy.”

“My dear, I’m sure you’ll find your mate,” she says. You know that your aunt means well, but she just added another stab to your vulnerable heart. “The right young man is waiting just around the corner.”

You’d like to roll your eyes at her words. Your mate doesn’t wait around the corner. And you won’t meet him at any moment. “Sure,” you say, and force a smile on your face.

“Where are you going?” She asks when you get up from your chair. The speeches are over, and people are busy stuffing food into their mouths.

“I need to use the toilet,” you whisper. “I’ll be right back.” Another lie easily rolls off your tongue.

The truth is that your stomach churns, and you’d like to throw up watching your ex-boyfriend nip at your friend’s neck. If you don’t leave the room now, you’ll do something you regret.

It’s worse enough that you cried. You won’t give them the satisfaction and watch you lose control. Even though you’d like to scratch her eyes out.

You try not to run out of the room but walk fast enough to struggle not to slip on the floor. Goddamn high heels. Why did you have to choose the most uncomfortable shoes you own to wear today out of all days?

“Fuck,” you almost made it out of the room when you slip and end up face first in someone’s chest. “Great. My fucking luck!”

“Watch out, doll,” he easily helps you steady your wobbling legs. He gives you a warm smile and chuckles as you stare at him with wide eyes. “You good? Did you hurt your ankle?” His eyes drop to your feet, and he shakes his head at your choice of shoes. “These shoes are no good. You could easily break your neck.”

“You are telling me,” you huff. “I had to wear them because of the wedding but-“ you lean closer to whisper in his ear, “I’m hiding a pair of sneakers in my bag.”

He smirks at your admission. “So, do you often run away from weddings to crash into people?”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you splutter as you take your time to drink his appearance in.

The man catching your fall is very handsome. Sadly, he’s older than you, at least twenty years. His salt’n’pepper beard, the grey in his hair, and the lines around his eyes tell you so. Which means that he’s likely married or at least mated.

You sigh. This is not the right place nor the time to mourn the loss of a man you didn’t have in the first place. “It’s fine. I love getting run over by a pretty dame. How about I help you get a drink? You look thirsty. I guess I’m too hot to handle and you need water.”

Giggling at his corny pick-up line you consider him. “If you invite a lady for a drink, it should be at least a Martini.”

“Dry or extra dry?” He cocks a brow.

“I guess in your presence no woman stays dry,” you bluntly reply, making him chuckle. His cheeks turn pink, but he plays it cool. Damn him. He makes you drop your gaze to look at his hands to search for a ring.

“Cute,” he remarks. “I bet you taste even sweeter.” Oh, he’s a player. “Name’s John, doll. What’s yours?”

“Y/N,” you hold out your hand and give him your sweetest smile. If he wants to play, who are you to tell him to stop? “Nice to meet you, John.”

“Dito, sweetness,” he shakes your hand and holds it a little longer than needed. His thumb brushes over your skin, making you shudder. “Now, let’s get you a drink. We want you to stay hydrated.”

“What are you doing?” He watches you take the olive picks out of your drink to place them on a napkin. “Don’t waste them.”

Your eyes widen when he takes the olive pick to drop the olives in his mouth. “You like olives?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles and flashes you an irresistible smile. “You hate them, I assume.”

“Yes and…I mean…” You lick your lips as John takes a sip of his drink. “Did you ever hear of the olive theory John?”

“No.” He cocks a brow at your question. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“It’s…forget it.” You shake your head. “It’s nonsense.”

“It was important enough for you to mention it, Y/N. Come on, tell me about it. I don’t want to get my glasses out to search for it on my phone.”

“Okay,” you lick your lips. “If you laugh about me, I’ll go.”

“I promise not to laugh, doll.”

“There was this show. It’s called…” You clear your throat. “That doesn’t matter. There was this cute couple. One of them hated olives, but the other one loved them. One of their friends developed the theory that this fact makes them a great couple. A perfect balance, you know.”

John nods thoughtfully. He looks at the abandoned olive pick, considering your words. “I’m much older than you, doll. Do you know what you get yourself into when you tell me things like that?”

“No, but enlighten me,” you take the glass out of his hand to take a sip. “It’s only a theory from a TV show.”

“Hmmm…maybe we should test the theory,” he takes the drink out of your hand to down it. “How about we get out of here? We could go for a walk.”

“Maybe after you got me another drink,” you lean closer to run your hand over his hand. “I’m not a girl for one night.”

“Of fucking course not,” he grins. “You’re a keeper…”

Tags in reblog.

#winterbreakadvent2324 #john winchester #au!john winchester #j3bingo #anyfandomfluffbingo #john winchester x reader #alpha!john winchester x omega!reader #a/b/o

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

Text

Have a Holly Jolly Christmas

John Winchester x plus size reader

Christmas is just like any other day for John, but this year is different, his girlfriend has created a winter wonderland for him and his boys, but he won’t let her stay to celebrate

Warnings: john is a shitty ass parent and boyfriend, angst (honestly Lou can’t you write a fluffy fic for once), insecure!reader, alcohol, fluff

WC: 3.1k

Square Filled: Grumpy during the holidays @spnchristmasbingo

Minors DNI

SPN Christmas Bingo

The low budget motel room had been completely decked out in Christmas decorations. Tinsel over all the lamps and beds, a small tree on the coffee table decorated in cheap bobbles, poorly wrapped presents sitting around it, and fairy lights all around the room. There was even a piece of mistletoe hanging over the doorway to the tiny bathroom and three stockings tapped up under the tv.

Sam and Dean had gone feral when they walked in after school. Their little minds couldn’t comprehend all the lights and colours that you had hung up everywhere. They ran around, studying everything they could before their eyes landed on the arguably massive pile of presents. You had barely stopped the 8 and 4 year old in time before they ripped off the newspaper to get access to their goodies.

And now, after gorging themselves on eggnog and Christmas cookies, they were passed out in your arms, Dean on the left and Sam on the right, their little hands linked across your plump stomach, sleeping peacefully for the first time in a while. You had only been in the boys’ life for a few months, John was extremely protective of them, not letting you meet them until you had been dating for a couple years, but already you knew they were your boys and you would do anything for them. And apparently, that entailed spoiling the shit out of them every chance you could.

Sighing sadly, you looked up from where you had been watching them sleep, to the clock above the small kitchenette. It was well past midnight and yet, John still wasn’t home. You knew Christmas was a hard time for him though, so you just sucked it up and focused on the kids.

“Kitty?” It was the nickname the boys had given you because John insisted it was rude for them to call you by your first name. Glancing down, you were met with wide green eyes, still glazed over with sleep.

“What is it, Dean?” You whispered, mindful of the younger boy who was still dozing away, thumb tucked firmly between his lips. He sat up a bit so he could look you in the eye as a very serious expression came over his little face.

“Do you think dad is with Santa and that’s why he isn’t here?” Sometimes you forgot how truly young Dean was. He was forced to be so mature from such a young age, it was quite easy to not remember that he really was only eight. Cupping the back of his head, you gently guided him to lay down once more. He complied without a fight.

“Yeah that’s right. Your dad is helping Santa give out presents to all the little kids all over the world, but he’ll be back soon.”

“Do you promise?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I pinky promise.” His little pinky curled around your own before his eyes shut and he fell asleep once more.

It was around four in the morning that you were able to slip from the bed. Carefully, you pulled your duffle bag from under the bed and grabbed the last few presents from it. Each was wrapped in colourful (and expensive) paper with bows and neat little tags. Some said ‘from Santa’ but the largest of the bunch you had labeled ‘from Dad’ with your best attempt at emulating your boyfriend’s handwriting.

The sky was turning a light grey with an impending snowstorm when you heard the impala turn into the motel’s parking lot. Quickly, you threw your clothes and toiletries in the now empty bag before pulling on your boots and coat. You finished zipping it up just as the man himself walked through the door.

He had obviously been drinking if the stench of whiskey and smoke was anything to go by. But mostly, he just seemed tired. He was beat down, still fading bruises from his last hunt littered his arms and one of his eyes. “Thank you for staying with the boys.” He said it like you were just some babysitter and not his partner of the last three years.

You nodded at him. “It was no problem, you know how much I adore them.”

“Yeah.” He sighed in a way you knew he meant that he was done talking about it. “John?” He glanced at you but you could tell he wasn’t really looking at you or else he would have seen the heartbreak clearly written across your face.

“Just- just enjoy today. They need it, you need it. Forget the world for once and just be with your boys.” And with that, you kissed his scruffy cheek and walked away, planning on driving to Bobby’s to pick up another hunt. “Merry Christmas John.”

He didn’t even try to stop you.

Bobby handed you a beer as he walked back into his living room. Gratefully, you took it and downed half the bottle in one swig. “Woah, slow down there. Someone might think you were turning into me.”

“Har har.” You replied sarcastically and took another pull. Your legs were curled up under you on his couch as your eyes fixed on the small fire he had built up in the fireplace. He raised an eyebrow at you, taking his place in the worn recliner beside you.

“Thought you were with the Winchesters for Christmas?”

“You know John, he doesn’t want anyone close to his boys, especially not me.” Your voice wavered with barely concealed tears. The ache in your chest had grown with each mile you drove away from them until you felt like someone had ripped out your heart by the time you had gotten to the scrap yard.

“I don’t get why that idjit pushes you away. You’re good for all those boys, not just him.” You shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on the fire in some vain attempt to stop yourself from crying.

“I’m not his girlfriend, Bobby. I’m a distraction, a babysitter, a nurse sure, but never his girlfriend. I can’t live up to Mary and he knows it, the same as I do.” You shrugged and finished off the bottle. It had been like that since you started dating. John needed a partner, someone to watch his back and keep his bed warm and he never did anything to change that.

He kept you at arms length all the time and you just accepted it, knowing what he had gone through. But now, it was ripping you apart. You loved those two boys with your whole heart and seeing them but never able to be anything more than an occasional visitor in their lives hurt like a bitch.

“Maybe you should leave.” Bobby bluntly said. “Why stay with a man who can never see how truly incredible you are?” You couldn’t answer him.

The hunter sighed deeply. “Just think about it for a couple days. Figure out if he’s actually worth your heartbreak.” With a friendly squeeze to your shoulder, he left you alone with your thoughts.

——————

John hated Christmas for one simple reason: it had been Mary’s favourite holiday. She went all out, lights, decorations, the works. And it got even better when Dean was born.

After she died, he found it hard to tolerate the holiday. He knew the boys questioned why they couldn’t have a celebration like the other kids at school but it hurt his heart even just thinking about having a Christmas without her. He avoided the day as much as he could with hunts and booze, but otherwise treating it like any other day.

And now, walking into the hotel room they had been camped out in for the past few weeks, John wanted to cry. You put in so much work to make the place look nice, even if you weren’t sticking around (not that it was your choice). His frown deepened as he glanced at the presents by the tree.

Knowing you, you had bought the presents with the scant amount of money you earned from actual jobs instead of hustling or downright stealing. You were too kind for a business like this, too soft.

With a heavy heart, he collapsed on the ratty sofa after pulling a beer from the fridge. His brown eyes occasionally flicked over to his boys, unconsciously making sure they were still alive and well. They would be devastated when they woke up and you weren’t here but he could deal with that.

What he couldn’t deal with was how involved you were in their lives. You had consumed his heart, his soul, his mind and his body. He was terrified of how quickly he had fallen for you. It left him questioning his love for Mary and he hated you for that.

So, like the way he regarded Christmas, he treated you like he would any other woman he had taken to his bed. He knew it hurt you, he could see it in your eyes when he dismissed your feelings or when he shoved you away from the boys. But they were more important, they couldn’t lose another mother and he couldn’t lose another woman he loved.

“Daddy!” He was shaken from his thoughts by a small body landing firmly on his soft stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs. Sam’s skinny arms wrapped around his neck in a tight hug. John quickly recovered, hugging his youngest back.

“Hey there Sammy.” He chuckled, holding him as close as he could.

“It’s Christmas!”

“I know it is buddy, why don’t you wake up Dean and you can open your presents.”

“Ok!” As Sam scrambled away, John put his beer down on the ground beside him, purposely keeping it out of their potential eye line. It would do them no good to see him drinking this early in the day. He watched as Dean’s eyes shot open and sprung from the bed.

Soon enough, the kids were surrounded by ripped up paper and brand new toys and books. This is how it should be, John suddenly thought. He had gone four years without giving these boys the joy they deserved, no the joy they needed and he felt like the shittiest person ever.

“Daddy?” Sam was looking up at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes he had ever seen, clutching a gorgeous copy of the Wizard of Oz to his chest. “Where did kitty go?” Now that hurt even more. Dean’s gaze also settled on him and he could clearly see the questions in his green eyes.

“Well, kitty had to go see uncle Bobby for a while.” Both their faces fell.

“But why?”

“He needed her there.”

“But we need kitty here!” Sam insisted as he stomped his little feet as hard as he could. “It’s Christmas! She has to be here for Christmas!”

And then, he watched in slight horror as Dean stood up and hugged his little brother like a parent would hug a crying child. One hand on the back of his small head, the other arm across his shoulders and tugged him into his chest. “It’s ok Sammy, she’ll come back.”

“But what if she doesn’t? What if she doesn’t want us and then doesn’t come back!”

“She always comes back Sammy.”

“I want kitty right now!” And he descended into a truly heartbreaking fit of sobs. Moving quickly, John scooped him up and settled back down on the couch, doing his best to sooth his youngest. But Sam fought back, wiggling almost violently in his grasp. “I don’t want you! I want kitty!” With an all mighty jerk, he tumbled from John’s arms and made a mad dash to the bathroom.

The door slammed and locked shut before the hunter could react. “Sam!” He shouted after him, making a move to follow but a little hand on his forearm stopped him in his tracks.

Dean was crying too but they were silent tears, dripping quickly down his full cheeks. “Why does kitty always leave us?”

His knees creaked as he slowly dropped to his knees. Kneeling before his son, John looked him dead in the eyes. “Sometimes, it just has to be like that Dean. And we’ve got each other, that’s enough.”

“But we wouldn’t even have a Christmas without her.” Dean followed his brother into the small room, leaving John alone with his thoughts and a sinking feeling in his gut.

You would know what to do, you always seemed to have the answers when it came to the boys. The thought ripped through his chest like a bullet. In the seven months since you had known his sons, you had effortlessly become a better parent than he ever had been and yet, you never demanded recognition or love from any of them. You loved them because you could.

And they were right. It was Christmas, the first real Christmas that Sammy had ever had, a Christmas Dean could actually remember. But you weren’t here, because you knew John wouldn’t want you there.

Something came over the hunter then and suddenly he stood bolt upright. His mind was in a haze as he tore down the decorations littered about the room, stuffing them into spare trash bags. Presents were thrown into duffle bags, along with the boy’s clothes.

“Boys! We’re leaving!” The bathroom door opened a crack and both their little heads peaked out. John threw the last bag over his broad shoulder as he grabbed their winter boots from beside the front door. “Let’s go!”

They watched him curiously, confused as to why their father had pulled apart the room and was now in a rush to leave. “Where are we going?” Dean spoke up, slowly inching his way out of the bathroom.

John’s face remained stern but his brown eyes were sparkling with something the boys couldn’t quite figure out. “We’re going to save Christmas.”

——————

The fire had begun to burn out but you didn’t care to add any more wood. Your eyes were fixed on the dying flames as you absentmindedly sipped on the warm beer in your hands. Was being with John really worth it? Could you handle feeling like nothing but a burden or bed warmer any more?

You wanted to stay, you loved all three of the Winchesters so much. Yet, in the cold light of morning, after a night with John worshipping you and your body, when he would ignore your existence and dismiss you like just another one night stand, you felt lower than dirt.

You would give him Christmas, and then, you would be gone forever. The room glowed a dull orange with the sunset and your eyes drifted over to the window beside you. Snow was falling lazily from the sky, covering the junkyard in a layer of peaceful white.

“Kitty!” Your head snapped around and your breath caught in your throat as tears built up behind your eyes. Sam and Dean stood in the doorway, huge smiles on their faces, dressed up as little elves, complete with fake ears and hats with bells.

“Boys? What are you doing here?” Sam looked like he was about to sprint at you but a large hand suddenly appearing on his little shoulder stopped him. You laughed tearfully.

John stood behind his boys, dressed head to toe in a ridiculous red suit with matching hat. He was smiling brighter than you had ever seen him smile before. A full duffle bag was in his other hand, tinsel spilling from the open zipper.

“Now, what did we practice in the car?” He prompted, eyes falling to the children in front of him.

“Merry Christmas Kitty!” They shouted together before Dean took a step forward and held out a piece of paper.

“Santa says you’ve been very good this year so you get a very spectial present.”

“Special Dean.” John corrected.

“Special.” He nodded and then shuffled forward, holding the paper up even higher. Sam was visibly vibrating in his dad’s grip, eager to run at you. You slipped from the couch, landing painfully on your knees but you ignored the pain and instead took the paper from the 8 year old’s hands.

Dean smiled shyly as you turned it over. It was hard to make out at first like most drawings done by a child but as soon as the lines and colourful smudges became clear, the tears broke free.

There were four figures carefully doodled on top of various stickers, two of them significantly taller than the other two. One smaller figure had a book in their hands, obviously Sam. While the other was holding what appeared to be a pie or scrambled eggs, you couldn’t really tell. It was Dean.

The bigger people were holding hands with a sloppy heart over their heads. The slightly taller one had a beer beside his feet and a dark beard while the wider person had cat ears on their head. It was you and John.

Written at the top of the paper in very sloppy handwriting was: ‘We love you kitty!’

Suddenly, your arms were full as Sam and Dean launched themselves at you. You pulled them to your chest and cried, your heart feeling so full and yet so broken at the same time. How could you have even thought about leaving these perfect little boys?

Your chest shook with sobs as you held them as tight as you could. There was a thud and then another pair of arms wrapped around you. John’s chin rested on the top of your head, the boys nestled between you. “I love you, I’m sorry I never showed you the love you deserve.” His voice was thick with emotion.

“I love you too.” You murmured back, lifting your head to look him in the eyes. The edge of his lips turned up and he surged forward, capturing your own in a deep and passionate kiss that made you ache for more.

“Ewwwww.” Sam gagged, trying to pull away but you just laughed and yanked him closer. John laughed heartily.

“Get used to it Sammy, kitty is never leaving us again.” You glanced at him curiously but he just smiled mysteriously at you. “Kitty is staying for good.” He gently cupped your full cheek, his thumb tracing the peak.

“I am?” You questioned playfully.

“You are.” He answered definitively. “Because it’s Christmas and family is supposed to be together on Christmas.”

“Yeah!” Dean emphasised, excitedly wiggling against you. “And Santa needs Mrs. Claus! Everyone knows that!”

“Oh really?”

“Yes!” Sam spoke up this time. “And daddy is Santa so you have to be his wife!”

You grinned. “I guess I have to agree then.” The boys cheered and John tightened his grip, tugging you away from them so he could kiss you once more.

“Merry Christmas Mrs Claus.”

“Merry Christmas Santa.”

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