SPN Fic/Drabble: Happiness ain't found in a box of chocolates: Dean/John
I actually wrote a Dean/John drabble. This is the first time I write anything involving any kind of daddy!kink. (And that's saying a lot since I love my Spangel daddy!kink.)
Title: Happiness ain't found in a box of chocolates
Author: Nimenic
Fandom: SPN
Character: Dean/John
Rating: R or mild NC-17
Disclaimers: So not mine, never will be, I can only dream.
Warning: Daddy!kink
Summary: John does anything for his son, anything.
A/N: Everyone is over 18 in this fic/drabble.
Un-beta'd all mistakes are my own.
It wasn’t a sex-pollen thing or a curse or a manipulating hot incubus or even the sexy leather interior of the Impala.
No, it was a hero worship gone wrong that stopped making sense years ago.
It was a trust and loyalty issue pushed to and over the limits and boundaries of normal (even by their standards) time and time again.
Until those boundaries are nothing more than a faint diminishing line not even noticeable if you’re not squinting really, really hard.
Instead there’s just the smooth, warm body of your eldest son, lying waiting for you in your own bed. Slowly stroking himself as he keeps his green eyes glued to yours. Challenging you to say no, for you to stop him, this.
And you’ve tried. Lord knows you’ve tried.
You’ve told yourself countless of times that this can’t go on. For his and your own sake.
That THIS time will be the last. But somehow he always ends up in your bed, be it after a hunt or just a few beers too many he’s there.
On his knees between your legs or on his back as you hoover above him. He’s there looking at you with those ridiculously big eyes of his. Begging you to fix this, fix him. Make the hollowness inside him go away.
And every time you give in.
Afterwards when he’s fallen asleep, his back almost pressed to you chest, you pray.
You pray to God, to Mary and even to Sam.
That they all somehow, some day will forgive you for doing this to your son.
Because all you want is for him to be happy. And this seems to be one of the few things that makes him truly happy.
Title: Happiness ain't found in a box of chocolates
Author: Nimenic
Fandom: SPN
Character: Dean/John
Rating: R or mild NC-17
Disclaimers: So not mine, never will be, I can only dream.
Warning: Daddy!kink
Summary: John does anything for his son, anything.
A/N: Everyone is over 18 in this fic/drabble.
Un-beta'd all mistakes are my own.
It wasn’t a sex-pollen thing or a curse or a manipulating hot incubus or even the sexy leather interior of the Impala.
No, it was a hero worship gone wrong that stopped making sense years ago.
It was a trust and loyalty issue pushed to and over the limits and boundaries of normal (even by their standards) time and time again.
Until those boundaries are nothing more than a faint diminishing line not even noticeable if you’re not squinting really, really hard.
Instead there’s just the smooth, warm body of your eldest son, lying waiting for you in your own bed. Slowly stroking himself as he keeps his green eyes glued to yours. Challenging you to say no, for you to stop him, this.
And you’ve tried. Lord knows you’ve tried.
You’ve told yourself countless of times that this can’t go on. For his and your own sake.
That THIS time will be the last. But somehow he always ends up in your bed, be it after a hunt or just a few beers too many he’s there.
On his knees between your legs or on his back as you hoover above him. He’s there looking at you with those ridiculously big eyes of his. Begging you to fix this, fix him. Make the hollowness inside him go away.
And every time you give in.
Afterwards when he’s fallen asleep, his back almost pressed to you chest, you pray.
You pray to God, to Mary and even to Sam.
That they all somehow, some day will forgive you for doing this to your son.
Because all you want is for him to be happy. And this seems to be one of the few things that makes him truly happy.