#BARTENDER!SAM

[writethelifeyouwant]

Junkie - Kinktober 2022 | Day 23 & 24

Summary: Sam accidentally nicks Dean’s throat with his knife, and finally, life as they’ve always known it is all over.

Pairing: Demon!Dean x BloodJunkie!Sam / Sam x Wife (Unnamed) Rating: 18+ Warnings: Incest, Infidelity, Blood Consumption Tags: AU, Bartender!AU, Mechanic!AU, Mechanic!Dean, Bartender!Sam, Internal Monologuing, Knife Play, Gore, Blood Drinking, Dirty Talk, Cheating, Incest Kink, Infidelity Kink, Oral Sex, Deepthroating, Cockbulge, Degradation Word Count: 3.3k Kinktober Prompt - (23) Cockbulge/Deepthroating | (24) Gore

Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingo - Demonic Possession | @anyfandomkinkbingo - Blood In The Cut, K. Flay | @spndeanbingo - Bartender!AU | @j3bingo - Control, Halsey | @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo - Quote J “This cock isn’t going to suck itself.” | @spnkinkbingo - 24/7

Ever since the Yellow Eyes Demon fried their mother extra crispy on baby Sammy’s ceiling, the lives of the Winchester boys have been unusual, to say the least. John, convinced that Mary’s killer had targeted Mary for a specific reason, moves the family to a small, two-bedroom ranch across town (so Sam and Dean can share a room and Dean can always keep an eye on the baby boy) and gets back to work. By day, he works at his garage with his partner, but by night, he hunts down any scrap of information he can about his wife’s murder. 

And Dean and Sam grow up the same way, going to daycare and then school and then the local community college, keeping their heads down and acting just like every other boy that grows up in Lawrence. They get called down to the guidance counsellor a little more often, they have bruises and cuts and scrapes a bit more than your average kid, but they lost their mother young, and John’s always been a bit rough and tumble. Everyone makes excuses for them, Sam and Dean don’t even need to come up with lies to cover up their true nocturnal activities and weekend getaways. 

They spend every moment they aren’t in school helping their dad hunt down evil–the supernatural variety. Ghosts and werewolves and poltergeists and vampires and demons. Demons become their speciality. Because as soon as they learn that it was a demon that killed Mary, it’s their mission to hunt down every single one of those sons-of-bitches until their entire godforsaken species is extinct. When they learn that Sam has demon blood running through his veins, courtesy of the murderous visit Azazel paid them the night he turned six months old, cracks start to emerge in their life’s work. 

Dean is working with John at the garage now, Sam is bartending while he finishes up his final year of school. Sam’s got a pretty girlfriend, and Dean’s got a pretty long list of booty calls. John’s got his demon-hunting. And then all of the sudden, they have to make a choice they never anticipated–what level of demon-ness can they stretch to tolerate? Family has always been the most important thing to them, besides the hunt, so what’s more important? Killing the demon race to extinction or protecting their family. Family wins. 

When John has the choice of working with a demon to save Dean’s life, or killing Azazel and letting Dean die of his injuries… he knocks over the next domino. Taking care of his boys wins again. And when Sam dies, Dean makes the deal with the demon to bring him back, because taking care of Sammy wins. And when Dean dies, Sam tries hunting down and threatening every demon he can to bring back his brother, but when that doesn’t work, and Ruby offers him another way, Sam succumbs to the temptation and lets himself get hooked on demon blood because she promises him that if he’s strong enough, he might be able to bring Dean back. 

And on and on it goes, the unhealthy brotherly affection spiralling from commitment to codependency and ever closer towards addiction. There’s hardly anything keeping Sam and Dean from slipping the rest of the way down that slope. And demons–once again–are what push them over the final threshold to a place they can never come back from. 

When Dean becomes the thing they’ve always fought so hard against, more purely demonic than Sam has ever managed, the final domino begins to teeter. Sam tries to pull his brother back. He traps him in the back room of his garage, where Dean technically lives these days, ties him down to his bed and force feeds him the clarified human blood that can bring him back to his regular old mechanic, demon-hunting self. Dean wonders if some deeply buried part of Sam scratches the devil’s trap open on purpose, lets him escape on purpose, because they both know that neither of them are really happy leading their apple-pie double lives. Sam with his girl and his dog and his bar, Dean with his garage and his Impala. They’ve both been burying a secret far worse than their supernatural murder sprees all these years. 

When Dean escapes, he corners his little brother against a concrete wall of the garage, and he dares Sam to be strong enough to do it–to choose their mission, their life’s work, over protecting his big brother. Sam’s hand twitches, like he’s willing himself to fucking nut up and end it, fighting not to make the same mistake that’s gotten them into this situation over and over again. 

Sam accidentally nicks Dean’s throat with his knife, and finally, life as they’ve always known it is all over. 

Demon blood will always be a weakness for Sam, but usually, he has enough control over himself to resist the urge to drink. Something about Dean’s blood, though, it’s not the same. The siren song from the small rivulet of blood trailing down the hollow of his brother’s throat is a thousand times stronger than a veritable kiddie pool of blood from lackey-demon number nine; a hundred times stronger than the gashes over Ruby’s wrists that he’d suckled on so obsessively for over a year. And this is just one small drop of blood. Suddenly Sam can hear the rest of Dean’s blood rushing beneath the delicate membrane of his skin, pulsing in his veins, barely restrained. It would be so easy… hardly any effort at all… 

Dean’s fingers wrap purposefully around Sam’s wrist. He doesn’t have to work hard to push his brother’s arm away from his throat or use his demonically-enhanced strength. Sam’s willpower is now focused entirely on not drinking Dean dry, the tension in his arm illustrating his restraint in not pushing the knife further into Dean’s throat, and the demon can tell. Dean smiles darkly as he raises Sam’s hand and the knife it’s clutching up to his mouth, letting his sinful tongue dart from between his lips to collect the small line of his blood on the blade’s edge. He slices the tip of his tongue in the process, the wound burning violently thanks to the magic of the Demon Blade, and he hisses but he keeps his tongue firmly out of his mouth, the blood now welling temptingly on the muscle.

Sam feels like he’s about to hyperventilate. 

Slowly, teasingly, Dean twists Sam’s wrist and angles the back of his hand towards his mouth so he can lick across the surface of Sam’s knuckles, decorating them with his tainted blood. Sam stares at the shine of the deep red against the white of his skin, blanched from how tightly he’s still holding the Demon Blade. He feels himself swallow and regrets that he can’t taste any of the honeyed-metallic scent that’s enveloping him sliding down his throat. His vision has tunnelled to the back of his hand, everything else around him unimportant–even his demonic and murderous big brother. The world has faded to black and white except for the stain of red against his knuckles, clinging like dew drops on the grass to the coarse hairs that are standing on end, alert and at attention. Idly, Sam thinks he might be shivering. Everywhere feels cold except the skin of his wrist that’s still locked beneath Dean’s fingers. 

“C’mon Sammy,” Dean coos, and when Sam tears his gaze away from the blood on his hand to look at his big brother, the familiar green of his eyes has been swallowed by the black of the demon that’s inhabiting him. No. That he is. This isn’t some random demon possessing Dean’s body–this demon is Dean. Dean with all his cruelty and bloodlust twisted obsessiveness worn on his sleeve, no longer buried deep beneath years of shame and better judgement. 

“Do it,” the demon whispers again, no longer talking about Sam cutting his throat, but tempting him towards a wholly worse kind of violence. The kind that will destroy them both more egregiously than Death or Hell could ever conceive. 

“Let me take care’a you, Sammy,” Dean pleads, his eyes suddenly the bright, kind green that turns Sam weak at the knees. He’s never admitted it aloud, but Sam is just as weak for Dean’s imploring expressions as Dean is for Sam’s kicked-puppy look. “I know you want this. You need this. Let me help you,” Dean brings a hand up to the back of Sam’s neck bracingly, soothing away the tension of his restraint, massaging his muscles into submission. 

Sam lets out a sob, feeling himself breaking apart under Dean’s touch and wanting to refuse but finding that he can’t with each second that slips by, each touch of Dean’s burning fingertips against his skin. His head cants forward and Dean swivels to catch him, their brows touching, foreheads pressed together in a sick lovers parody. And Dean knows exactly what Sam needs, and how to get him to break and take it for himself. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean murmurs, licking his lips and painting them with a slick stain of his blood, prettier than any hooker in red lipstick that Sam has ever seen. “I’ve gotcha, I’m gonna take care’a you.” Sam’s body is wracked with another sob as each word drives a stake into his resolve, splitting it down the fault lines as Dean targets each weakness. “I love you so much, baby brother,” Dean whispers, his mouth a hair’s breadth away from Sam’s, waiting for him to fall and join him in his Hell on Earth. 

But when Sam’s lips crash into Dean’s he swears it feels more like Heaven. 

The old adage of drugs, sex and rock-and-roll feels an entirely appropriate descriptor for their lives now. 

Sam gets his blood-fix, Dean brings the rock-and-roll with his cassette collection like he always has, and they both get the sex. Dean isn’t sure which part is his favourite–the way Sam looks when he’s drunk on his big brother’s blood, or when he’s high on his big brother’s cock. Of course, more often than not Sam is both at the same time, so Dean doesn’t feel particularly guilty about not wanting to choose between them. 

Dean looks down at his little brother, kneeling on the floor between his legs, the long sandy brown hair tangled and knotted at the back of his head where Dean’s fingers have been messing with it. Sam hasn’t thought about brushing his hair in a while. That sort of thing isn’t important to him anymore. He only thinks about one thing these days, and that’s exactly how Dean likes it. The old human-him had always been worried that Sam would leave him someday, like he did when Dean was twenty-two, and too weak to stop him. But Dean isn’t weak anymore, and the new and improved him had the obvious solution for keeping Sam exactly where he wants him. 

“There’s a good boy,” the demon croons, petting Sam’s hair as he laves the huge flat of his tongue across the cut Dean has carved into his inner thigh. Dean doesn’t scar anymore when he heals, but Sam is so attached to drinking from this particular spot that he swears he can see a faint trace of the cut every time the skin closes over it again these days. 

With the hand that isn’t in Sam’s hair, Dean reaches for his cock and strokes himself languidly, enjoying the slow roll of his skin over the blood-engorged muscle, teasing his veins by squeezing tighter and letting go, making the blood pulse along his length in heady spurts, and Dean knows that Sam can hear it as he teases himself, because the man whimpers pathetically against his thigh, his tongue shaking with the increased speed of his breath. 

“Where’s your girl think you are?” he asks with a cold grin, and Sam shakes his head and mumbles something incoherent, not wanting to pause in his drinking to take the time to answer.  “She think you’re at work?” Dean prods, and Sam shakes his head again, teeth scraping over the cut in Dean’s skin. “She think you’re out with your brother gettin’ drunk? That’s not too far off the truth I guess,” he chuckles deeply, petting Sam’s head fondly. 

“Don’t wanna talk about ‘er,” Sam slurs when he pulls off Dean’s thigh with a gasp, only pausing in his quest for blood because his need for oxygen had become too urgent. Dean cups his cheek and drags his thumb across Sam’s lower lip, collecting the bloody spit pooling there and bringing his finger up to his own mouth, sucking it in with a hum of satisfaction and enjoying the look of disgruntled longing on his little brother’s face. Sam resents missing out even on that tiny, diluted drop of Dean’s demonic essence, and the demon knows it, which is exactly why he does it every time. 

Reaching to his side for his knife–not the Demon Blade, just a regular steel pocket knife he’s always carried around–he flicks the blade back out and runs it over the base of his stomach gently before dragging it down through the mousy trail of hair that draws a line from his belly button to his cock. As if someone would need directions on their way down, Dean’s cock stands out huge and heavy between his legs, twitching up in anticipation at the feeling of the pocket knife glancing over its length. 

The masochistic part of Dean loves this bit. He holds the head of his dick in one palm and angles the tip of the knife just so across the top, going for one of the smaller veins instead of the big one that runs up the underside. They’ve done that before and Sam nearly bit his dick off in his enthusiasm to suck down the tide of blood that started flowing. The smaller veins work better, giving Sam just enough of a taste to keep him happy, but not letting him gorge himself. Keeps Dean in control of the situation.  

Sam looks up at Dean pleadingly with eyes nearly as black as the demon’s own, waiting like he’s been taught. Waiting for permission. 

“This cock isn’t going to suck itself,” Dean scoffs, and that’s all the instruction Sam needs before he’s diving in hungrily, sucking the head of the demon’s length between his lips and swirling his tongue over the small incision, moaning with even more pleasure than Dean does at the feel of the wet heat sliding around him. 

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, fisting his hand in the knot of Sam’s hair. “There’s my boy. Dirty fucking boy, aren’t you? Gagging for a dick down your throat when you’ve got a pretty girl at home who wants to be choking on yours–such a fucking waste, aren’t you?”

Dean doesn’t do well with silence, he never has. And since he became this version of himself, it’s like all the voices in his head that he’s been trying to muffle his whole life have all been given microphones. Demons are the most tortured of all, he remembers being told during his sojourn in Hell. He hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out what Alastair meant by that, but now he knows all too well. Demons crave violence and pleasure and oblivion because that’s the only way to make the voices shut the fuck up. It’s the only way to get some goddamn quiet. 

The volume starts to dim as Dean yanks Sam forward, using his hair like a leash and dragging him down his cock until he’s pushing into a throat that’s fighting him. When he’s in Sam’s throat Sam can’t taste the blood anymore, and Sammy doesn’t like that, which means Dean loves it. 

“Yeah, bitch,” he groans, using his own voice to drown out the ones inside, still too loud. “Look at you taking my dick all the way down this pretty throat.” Dean circles the fingers of his free hand around the front of his brother’s neck and squeezes as he fucks in as deeply as possible, feeling the bulge of his cock moving in Sam’s throat and letting a groan ring out in the echoey concrete of his room at the back of the garage. 

This place has always been perfect for hunting the supernatural, and now for their even more secretive activities because it’s built out of the way, on the edge of the town. No one wants all the noise from an auto shop near their houses or offices, so there’s nothing else around here for at least half a mile. Sam and Dean can scream as loud as they want, and no one will ever hear them. 

“Good fucking cocksucker, aren’t’ya boy?” Dean keeps up his monologuing as he fucks Sam’s throat, denying him the blood that he’s so desperate to feel on his tongue again, keeping the crown of his cock firmly away from the man’s tastebuds. “What would people say if they saw you like this, huh? Big, tough, Sam Winchester, on his knees for a fucking demon, for his fucking big brother. What would Dad think of you, huh? His boys. Probably turned out worse than he could ever’ve imagined, didn’t we Sammy?” Dean laughs as he throws his head back, hips bucking off the edge of his mattress as he thrusts into Sam’s throat as roughly as he can. He feels Sam’s tears sliding off his face and onto the hand he has braced around his neck, and Dean wants to lick them up; taste a part of his brother’s shame the way Sammy tastes his. 

Because how can it not be shameful that Dean Winchester, famous demon-hunter, is now a demon himself and doesn’t give enough of a fuck to let his brother save him? Instead, he’s dragging Sammy right down to the pit with him, because they sure as shit weren’t gonna let something like this split them up after everything they’ve pulled to stay together. If Dean is a demon for good then Sammy’s getting damned too, that’s just the way it is with them. And Sam is far too addicted to the demon blood now to protest, even though he’s probably powerful enough to overcome Dean if he tried. 

That’s the most magnificent part, that Sam has every capability to escape this situation, to fight Dean off, and he’s becoming more and more powerful with every drop of Dean’s blood that he drinks, but none of that matters to him. Fighting Dean hasn’t even occurred to him. Because all that matters is his next fix. Dean has the all-powerful, special child of Hell as tamed as a hellhound. Obedient and hungry. Every second of every day, Sam is waiting for Dean’s call, telling him that it’s time. He would sit on his knees beside Dean’s bed on the cold concrete until his skin was rubbed raw and he was wasting away. His life’s one joy, now, is to service Dean, because when he does, he gets his reward. He gets Dean’s blood. 

They’re bonded more deeply now than ever before, in a way that Dean, twisted as he was even as a human, has always craved. Sammy as his; Sammy devoted solely to him. If they didn’t have a facade of a normal life to keep up, he would happily keep Sam naked at his beck and call. He’s had dirty dreams about the idea for years. Dean cums down his brother’s throat reminiscing about his old fantasies. The sounds of Sam choking on his release as Dean shoves him back off his dick are just about enough to drown out the noise in his head.

Part 1 is posting straight to Tumblr for Kinktober. Part 2 is a bonus smut scene and will be posted to my website as a member exclusive!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67 @flamencodiva @katbratsupernaturalwhore @letsbys-library @fictional-affairs @leigh70

All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @slamminmine @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @alaufeyson @raidens-realm @tatted-trina6 @defenderrosetyler @cluz1babe @maliburenee

[italwayshadtobeyou]

[sweet-baby-bird]

Going off of that post, actually the discussion of whether Sam is gay or not should begin and end with I am a gay man and I like him.

[assigned-boyking-at-birth]

Sam Winchester did not fuck Paul the Bartender just for Hellers to say that Dean and Cas are the first gays in Supernatural. Don’t worry Mr. Winchester, I saw your multiple homoerotic interactions

[hurricanejane]

Okay now I know why they had Dean kill Amy. The next episode is so much juicier with Dean feeling guilty and hiding it from Sam. And Sam defending him and Dean just digging his own grave deeper to avoid disappointing Sam.

Also the bartender asks if it was Dean's love life or work that had him drinking and he says it's complicated. Is that because it's one in the same Dean? Is that because you killed Sam's ex in a stupid complicated blurring of love and work and the black and white you're so desperately clinging to? Maybe other lines in your life are blurring Dean? Maybe you're trying so hard to keep some boundaries in place so you don't admit what you really feel guilty about?

[quietwingsinthesky]

bartender lady in sam's head in the man who knew too much should have been ruby

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Thank you for the tag Sam!!! @wisteriya

Rules: Post the first 10 songs on your Spotify on repeat playlist.

I am surprised Let's Get Eat, Caroline and B.T.W are here. The rest I more or less expected.

Tagging without pressure: @hyungszn @cheolhub @kaciidubs @toruro @cbini @husbandhoshi @wonusite

[found--family]

why is there no fic of accountant!cas helping dean with his taxes?

[bloodfreakpropaganda]

every once in a while, one person says that they headcanon something in dean that is already canon in sam

[honeybunchcalum]

sam malone's cocky pick-up lines would've worked on me if i walked into cheers. it's the sam malone rizz, if you will

[postgraduate]

here's my analysis of s4 in the guise of sam blow drying diane's hair. :-)

this certainly awakened something in me. i've never seen a fic to fruition before this, and now that i have some time freed up between now and the fall i'd like to work on some more of these! then it's back to Total Consumption by Academic Writing

going to keep it at one-shots though, or series of. i can't presume to know how to pace novel-length creative fic just yet.

[nobodymitskigabriel]

Im queer sam or bust for season 16

[italwayshadtobeyou]

[toomanymouths]

the most recent episode of ted lasso was...a comically huge mess lmao

[assigned-boyking-at-birth]

Sorry I haven’t been spending my usual insane amount of time on here. Do y’all still think I’m sexy??

[ladyluscinia]

When the sam stan running the episode bracket reblogs a gifset to remind you of which episode it is and I stare blankly until I check the episode name or search a synopsis and realize no I actually definitely remember this one I just do not instinctively recognize whatever Sam was doing in that gifset 🤣