#i think that's my voice lol --- an outsider pov from tumblr user egipci

[egipci]

Hi Em!!!! Happy Dadfucker Friday <3

There’s a very popular picture in the John/Dean community of a guy with a dirty boot print on his chest. Can you tell us a little bit about how that boot print got there? (Eg. was it consensual? Was it a punishment? Was it a sex thing? Did Dean ask for it? etc.) Thank you!!! <3

Cannabutter

What happened was, the first time, they were somewhere in rural Colorado, like near the mountains, and Dad had been gone for a couple of weeks on a case, and there was a girl. This girl, let’s call her Maggie, she was over one night in the little townhouse where they were staying, and she’d brought these brownies with her. And the brownies were really good, like objectively very fucking good brownies, fudgy at the center, etc., and Dean was hungry, had been eating mac and cheese everyday for a week straight, or you know, like feeling snacky or whatever, and he was seventeen, plus the girl was hot, and they were sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch and he had sort of a lot of brownies. Like, half a sheet of those things. So good were these brownies he was like, “Yo, these brownies are so good. What’s in these brownies?” and it was all the usual stuff, of course, eggs, cocoa, sugar, etc. but you had to use brown sugar, that was the key. “You get the brown sugar,” she said, “and then you whisk in the cannabutter,” and he said, “A canna what?” And she said, “The cannabutter,” and he said, “Oh,” and as he said that he felt it, his heart banging against his ribs and face warming up, a shiver between his shoulder blades. And she was like, one of those hippy chicks with hippy parents and she and her parents smoked pot together or whatever, like they grew it themselves and made butter and tea and whatnot. And he said, “Oh, cool, my dad and I are really close too. He’s coming back soon,” except he couldn’t be sure if he’d actually said any of that or if he’d only thought it, and he must have been freaking out a little because she put her hand on his arm all fucking solicitous and asked, “Are you okay?” and of course he said yes, because she was hot, plus the roofies had felt different. And when he smiled at her she kissed him and pushed him to his back and got on top of him, put her hands under his shirt. And that was nice for a while, making out and her kissing up on his neck and pulling his shirt off.

Then: the sound of the car, and the girl whispering conspiratorially, “Is that your dad?” And at that point he was shaking and trying not to shake and he said, very seriously, “You have to go now,” like a freaking chick from a movie where the dad chases away all the boyfriends. And then he was vaguely aware of her getting up and putting on her shoes and saying something to Dad on the way out, and Dean thought if he got up he might throw up or something and Dad would find out how fucked up he was. So he just stayed there very still on the floor in front of the couch. Pretending to be asleep so that when Dad saw him he’d just leave him there. And Dad was moving around, taking off his jacket and washing his hands, etc., and Dean could feel him coming closer, to kill him or something probably, his boots making the floorboards creak, until he stood right there over Dean, and then he bent down with a grunt and stood up again, his knees cracking twice. And of course, because it was Dad and he’d been away so long, Dean opened his eyes and looked up, overjoyed to see him, having missed him so much, and Dad held the ziplock with the rest of those brownies up to his face, and he said, “Oh, man,” and just his voice made heat flash everywhere, sent Dean white-hot like a magnesium flare. “Dad,” he said, and Dad said, “Come on, dude. Get up.” And Dean said, “Dad. Dad, I’m so high,” and saying more than three words sent him laughing hysterically that something popped in his neck, or almost, and Dad toed his shoulder, said, “Get to bed,” except even then he didn’t sound super serious, like if Dean could see his face he would find him smiling, because he can tell things like that just by hearing Dad’s voice. And then, out of nowhere, Dad just put his foot right over Dean’s chest, almost straight across, but diagonal a little, with his boot still on, and like, shook him, like you would put your hand on someone’s shoulder and then rattle them a little. And the ridges on the sole were hard and wet from the dewy soil outside, but Dean’s hand latched around Dad’s ankle, over the boot, and then up around his skinny shin under the leg of his jeans, and Dad let him, just pressed his foot down hard. Not hard enough that Dean couldn’t breathe but there, good, like when he’d hold Dean down with his hands on his chest or his back, except even better because he was high as shit and the tip of Dad’s toe was grinding against his nipple, painful almost, but he could feel it everywhere, like this current to his balls, but it wasn’t just that, it was that it was Dad standing there over him, holding him down, watching him, and he made this embarrassing sound, whiny, so humiliating he couldn’t even do anything about it except call out for Dad again, and Dad said, “You’re good,” and his voice was so low it made Dean shiver, because he liked watching Dean and he was watching him now, even spread out pathetic on the floor Dad liked watching him, wanted to watch him even like this, even as he held onto Dad’s leg with one hand and unbuttoned his jeans with the other and pulled his dick out and his balls over the elastic of his boxers and came so hard in twelve seconds flat, even then Dad liked him.