#The Winchesters subtext

[drsilverfish]

Resurrection Reflection SPNWin 1x07

OK - why does the entrance to the Queen Akrida’s underground tomb look like the crucifixtion?!?!

We know the story - Jesus was crucified (three crosses - Jesus and the two thieves beside him). He was entombed, and he rose again...

We can see clearly now that The Winchesters is, in its subtext, replete with references to the events of Supernatural, in other words it is filled with reflections, as the mid-season episode sign-posts for us, from Narrator Dean’s POV. 

Are these three crosses representative of the deaths of Dean, Sam and Cas?

In reading the SPN subtext in The Winchesters, it’s important to note that subtext often functions like a dream-language - signs and symbols shape-shift - and the symbolism here isn’t necessarily a straightfoward breadcrumb trail of clues leading to a material outcome, such as the resurrection of Dean, Sam and Cas (again) and the continuation of the SPN narrative on main.

Our trio have all died and been resurrected, several times, over the course of Supernatural,  so this imagery can be understood simply as Dean’s unconscious working through his traumatic journey to date.

Or, indeed we can read this symbolism as foreshadowing in the story of John and Mary, as we know from SPN that John dies, and is resurrected thanks to Mary’s demon-deal with Azazel. 

The Akrida Queen getting hopped up on monster-mash juice, and therefore resurrected to full strength, is the most literal reading of the resurrection symbolism.

The collection of monster venom the Akrida have been preparing really made me think about Mary’s father Samuel, as we meet in him in Supernatural, resurrected by Crowley in S6, and hunting Alpha monsters in a deal to locate Purgatory for Crowley, in exchange for the promised resurrection of Mary. 

Samuel is so obsessed with resurrecting his daughter, that he’s prepared to feed his grandsons to ghouls (6x10 Caged Heat). 

An interesting dark reflection here then, in the SPNWin episode, 1x07, in which Mary is reunited with Samuel. 

Further foreshadowing of the darkness in the Campbell and Winchester families to come - the incestuous cycle of demon deals to resurrect dead family?

[sinverse]

finally watching supernatural (yes, in the year 2024) and god you destiel girls weren’t lying huh

they really ARE that gay

[deicidedruid]

You know what’s absolutely crazy to me, that one scene from season 8, where Cas leaving Dean was so traumatic that his brain repressed it and rewrote it to Dean being unable to grab him. That is crazy to me, because nowhere else in the show does Dean’s brain do this. Nothing else he experiences is so awful that his brain rewrites it. Not the 40 goddamn years in hell, not his brother dying, not his mom burning on the ceiling, not his dad or Bobby dying, not everyone he loves being possessed; no it was Cas choosing to leave him that pushed Dean too far. The show never gave Dean a love interest again, and then supernatural has the gaul, after all that homoeroticism, to this day claim Dean Winchester is straight.

[cthulhum]

does anyone realize how crazy it is to have the actor of a mostly headcanoned queer ship say the fans were never crazy and they were right all along after 10+ years of everyone just absolutely going nuts over the said queerbaited ship

[flowersintheimpala69]

yall remember when Sam & Dean were investigating psychic siblings and were at a museum of famous psychics and the museum tour guide was like “sibling psychic acts never lasted long cuz of the pressure of working together and being so close their entire lives” drawing a clear parallel between the psychic siblings and Sam & Dean esp cuz in that episode they’d just had a fight and then the tour guide went “but not the campbell (Sam and Dean’s mother’s MAIDAN name) brothers tho cuz they were actually boyfriends”

so basically the narrative draws a clear parallel between these psychic siblings and Sam&Dean and then turns around and goes “those psychic ‘siblings’ were fucking btw” like whatttt

[strawlessandbraless]

I mean we already knew, but it’s still beautiful. Still destiel.

[wellofdean]

Do you ever think about how Supernatural is the story of how a capricious and cruel author/father/god, who imprisons and then permanently neutralises his feminine equal/sister and orchestrates everything in his little sandbox to watch brothers kill each other, has to burn down the multiverse to suppress the one thing he cannot control: the irrepressible queer love story of Cas and Dean?

I do. All the time.

[raevenswritingdesk]

And wait what’s this hERE COMES JACKLES WITH A STEEL CHAIR

[dorkybooktrash]

Jackles just restored every single helpless hope I have had in my heart since the end of 15x18

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

This doesn’t get a title because I’m confused

Disclaimers: The only character I own is the reader insert!

Author’s Notes: I think I got possessed, I don’t even like Sam 😭 like in the slightest 😭

But pretend season 8ish Sam has season 2-3’s hair for the sake of that’s the season I’m on lol.

Icons by @gosling-girlx !! She’s a genius!

Anyway, all notes are appreciated!

Content/Content Warnings: 18+ ONLY! Minors do not interact, this is NOT for you.

This fic is extremely spicy, sort of can’t-stand-each-other sex. Reader’s AFAB & uses she/her pronouns, only physical description is of her being shorter than Sam. There’s oral (both m and f receiving) and unprotected piv which frankly only exists in the books- wrap it before you tap it!! Oh also they’re both pretty mean to each other… you’ll see.

Again, I think I got possessed when I made it-I sincerely can’t stand him- but hope you enjoy it!

**************************************************** Working with the Winchester Brothers is a gig like no other. Cas and I are more tagalongs in the operation these days, Cas demoted to resident healer and I to stay at home mom, apparently.

One accident (authors note: one possession & a year long recovery for a spinal injury retained from said possession) had apparently rendered me useless to the boys. It’s not all bad- I’m relatively close with the older one, Dean, since we’re both hoes for a good time and good movies/music. And before the accident, I was happy to kill evil sons-of-bitches with Dean any day of the week.

And of course, Castiel is a right sweetheart- showing him new human things is the sweetest experience in the whole wide world.

But you know what ruins the laughs and the nice moments? The younger brother. Sam “Little Shit” Winchester.

I don’t know how he found himself upon the moral pedestal he crafted for himself, but lord I want to remove his kneecaps and slap him with them. Little baby giraffe looking shit.

I don’t like the way he acts, plain and simple. Between the way that he treats Dean and the way that he talks so condescendingly to me- I’m about two seconds from starting a fight every time we’re in a room together for too long. He seems to feel the same way. It’s helpful in a hunt- both of us are smart enough to concentrate that anger towards our monster of the week instead of each other in the field- but now, when there’s no field to take the anger out on? Dean’s had to break up at least 3 almost-fights, and I’ve only been back on my feet for a couple months.

***

The boys looked especially pissy coming home today- they’d grumbled something about a “stupid fucking vampire bitch,” and went their separate ways, Sam to the med bay and Cas trailing Dean like a golden retriever.

Great. Looks like I’m on Douchebag Duty.

***

“What’s your problem?” Sam snaps as I tug the thread on his stitches a little too roughly.

“My problem, you dick? I’m the one that’s stitching you up right now, why don’t I just let you bleed out?” I retort, yanking on the surgical needle with the string attached to a particularly nasty cut on his upper arm. Cut’s an understatement- it’s really a bullet wound. I’m just too proud to have pity for the jackass.

“Yeah, your problem!”

I set down the needle at that, my fists clenched at my sides. “You’re a whiny little bitch who can’t sit still and shut the fuck up for two minutes! That’s my problem.”

“I think you’re a little too high and mighty there, princess,” he scowls, standing up to full height, presumably so that he can use his stature to literally look down at me.

“Yeah? Look who’s talking, Mr Morals,” I seethe, staring up at him. I snatch the needle, on my tiptoes, and hastily finish the stitching on his scar, while standing up.

“Out,” I spit as I cut the thread.

“No,” he retorts, glancing down at me through long lashes and stupidly overgrown bangs.

“What? Is five minutes away from your big head too much to ask?” my hands are on my hips. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of staring up at him, so I stare at whatever’s eye level. He’s wearing a bloodied white tank top, which is not doing much for the whole vibe we’ve got going on right now.

He bites his lower lip, still looking down through his annoyingly long lashes. And my dumb ass is attracted to it, apparently.

“Get. Out,” I say, anger laced in my words.

“No,” he says through clenched teeth. I start to turn away, as if giving up, before pulling a Dean Winchester and turning back around on my heel, punching him in the abdomen. He grunts, keeling over. “Ow!”

“You should’ve listened, you ass,” I say, looking down at him. He looks pathetic, his eyes gone wide and pretty in pain. I shouldn’t be into this, not one bit.

Keeled over, Sam is at eye level. Our gazes lock, his hazel eyes boring holes into mine, searching for something. I don’t dare waver, looking back at him with just as much intensity until he surprises me, leaning in and crashing his lips to mine. He roughly grabs my face, holding me close as he forces his tongue into my mouth, exploring. I hate how easily I give him access, I hate the way I let out a gasp against my will. By the time he pulls away I’m already leaning back in. He smirks, humoring me for one more kiss.

“How do you like me now?” he says cockily, lips plush and pink from the kisses, hazel eyes blown out by lust.

“I don’t,” I mutter, pushing him back so that he’s forced to sit on the med bay bed. His legs are spread wide, and of course I fit perfectly between them, much to my distaste. I kiss his jawline, using mostly my teeth so that it scratches as I go, especially once I start on his neck, biting and sucking dark marks everywhere I see fit. He’s into it, little breathy whimpers further fueling my unfortunate attraction to him.

“Take off your shirt,” I tell him, stepping back and smirking at how this time he leans into my touch instead of the other way around. He thoughtlessly pulls the hem of the ruined fabric over his head, throwing it to the side, exposing an obnoxiously fit physique and an anti possession tattoo. There’s little scars everywhere, and something deep down urges me to kiss every single one of them, but that can be later.

“Take off yours,” he tells me.

“Why?” I ask, trying to play smart.

“Cause if I have to be shirtless you do too,” he says.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Better think of a better retort next time, Winchester,” I say as I take off the oversized concert tee I had been wearing.

“Bra too,” he orders, cocking his head to the side as he looks me over.

“Who made you the boss?” I ask, already unclasping my bra.

“I did,” he says, far too cocksure.

“We’ll see about that,” I grin, letting the lacy fabric fall to the ground as I lean in to kiss his damnable hot mouth. This time I take control, taking pride in the little noises he makes.

“I’m gonna suck your dick,” I say crudely, not bothering with pleasantries.

“Go right on ahead,” and I can tell there was meant to be spite behind those words, but it quickly fades away into sighs as I start kissing down his pecs, his abs, lightly scratching anywhere I can find with my nails. I hate how hot the heat between my thighs is, but at this point, I can’t help it, especially as I sink to my knees, nose perfectly level with his crotch.

I take his belt into my hands, grazing over the obvious tent that lies underneath it. He throws his head back at that, biting back a curse.

“What’s the matter Sammy?” I tease.

“Shut up,” he grumble, words morphing into a proper moan as I graze over the tent again.

“Uh huh,” I agree, tugging off his leather belt and yanking down the zipper of his jeans.

“Boxers? I had taken you for a ‘Tighty Whities’ girl, Sammy,” I mused, doing my best to work him up even more.

“Sto-,” he starts, immediately losing his words as I free his cock from his confines, pulling his boxers down to his knees.

You know, just cause a guy’s a big guy doesn’t always mean that everything’s proportionate. Sam’s six foot five-ish, long and lanky with lean muscle. And naturally, because everything about him is meant to spite me, his dick also fits the physical bill. My mouth waters, and the only prospect that excites my overly-horny self more than having it in my mouth is having it in my slick soaked pussy. And I will, if I have anything to say about it.

“Oh Sammy, you’re a big boy, huh,” I taunt, running a hand up and down his shaft slowly. He moans in agreement, no more fight left in him. It’s too easy.

I let go of it, ignoring the bead of pre cum leaking down as I move to kiss his thighs, grazing my teeth on them like I did on his neck. He seems to like it, legs moving in towards my mouth. Finally I move my mouth towards where he obviously wants me most, rubbing the bead over his tip with my thumb. I’m a little wary about taking the whole thing, but I’m sure as hell going to try.

I start simple, kitten lips around the base, licking a long stripe up the underside before wrapping my lips around the head, and he moans, a little too loudly. I brace my hands on his thighs before taking a deep breath through my nose and forcing myself down far enough that my nose is touching neatly trimmed hair. Thankfully my gag reflex is still gone-it’s been a minute- as I hold him there for a moment, before starting to bob my head up and down, testing the waters. He whimpers and whines, and it’s pathetic, and I’m far too into it, unable to do much else than keep up my ministrations.

One of his big hands find the back of my head, fingers weaving into my hair. I don’t think he does so with intent of forcing me to move, but the idea is so hot that I lock eyes with him with my mouth on his cock.

“What? You want me to fuck your mouth?” he asks, panting. And once he says it out loud I get impossibly wetter, and I moan yes, unable to nod at all with him buried as far as he’ll go.

“Damn, you’re a slut,” he grins, and I moan in agreement before he starts moving my head slowly. Forward and back, forward and back, before I lock eyes with him and he gets the hint to take it harder, hips starting to thrust meeting my throat as his hands push. I just keep sucking, doing my best not to choke as involuntary tears leak out. But it doesn’t hurt, not at all. If anything I’m just doing all I can to not start rubbing on my own sensitive spots.

Before I know it his whimpers get louder and his whines get needier, and he grits out “I- I’m going to-“

So I release him with a pop, taking a hand and rubbing up and down his length furiously before he bursts. Once he does, with the most pathetic whimper yet, I get my mouth right back on him, taking every drop of his hot release down my throat. When he’s done I stay there, opening his mouth so he can see that there’s nothing there.

“God, you’re such a slut,” he mutters, echoing what he said before as he catches his breath and pulls me up by the hair- gently.

I shrug cockily, moving back as he stands up.

“Strip and have a seat,” he lazily demands as he puts his perfect cock away.

I roll my eyes but comply, taking off my remaining clothes so that I’m left in all my glory.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that?” he compliments, a moment of tenderness as he crowds me against the bed so that I’ll take a seat. I blush, letting him hoist me up so that my ass is on the edge of the dinghy bed. “My turn,” he grumbles, voice low and hot against the column of my neck. He’s even rougher than I was, nipping at every square inch of skin that he meets, sucking dark marks down the side of my neck and over the tops of my breasts. I’m like a bitch in heat, responding to every touch in ways I can’t control- pornographic moans, leaning into his touch. He’s pulling on my hair to give himself more access, and I’m starting to worry that I’m soaking the bed. His mouth continues to work wonders, especially as he travels southwards, playing with my breasts.

He’s mean, outright biting the one and pinching the other, and it’s just what I need. I tangle my hands into his annoyingly long hair and tugging, not missing the way he moans into my chest.

Finally, finally, he gets down on his knees. He rests his chin on the bed, breath heavy on my heat. The sight of his head pillowed on my thighs as he looks up at me with those puppy dog, blown out eyes is enough to get me to come on the spot.

“This all f’me, princess?” he asks roughly, collecting some of the gratuitous wetness on two long, thick fingers.

“N-no,” I stammer, clutching his hair tighter. He bites back his moan in favor of a smug grin.

“N-no,” he mocks, turning to the side to bite the inside of my thigh, and I whine. “Uh huh, that’s what I thought.” His nose is eye level with my clit, and the only warning I get before he dives into my pussy is a small smirk that meets his hazel eyes.

“Fuck!”

He moans in between my thighs, setting my entire body on fire. I try to wiggle away from him, but it only takes one big, strong hand to hold my hips in place as he fucks his tongue into me, his nose rubbing on my puffy clit. It’s wet and it’s gross, but so, so hot.

He’s a little too good, knowing all the buttons to press that leave me tracking wetness all over his face, before taking two fingers and roughly pushing them into my core, giving me no time to adjust. They’re thick and long, and when he makes the come hither motion I know I’m fucked, doing everything I can not to gasp his name.

“S-s-oh my god,” I cry as he plunges his fingers all the way down to the knuckle every time, reaching deeper and deeper and rubbing on my g-spot. He’s too busy sucking on my clit to say anything, his attention overstimulating.

He adds a third finger, and that, combined with him tracing patterns on my sensitive bud, sends me straight over the edge with a an unintelligible cry.

Of course the bastard doesn’t stop, not until I’m physically shaking from the overstimulation, legs quivering, and on the brink of a second release.

He removes himself from my heat, laying his cheek on the inside of my thigh, looking up at me smugly.

“Good, huh?” he knows it was.

“Fuck you,” I mutter, voice weak.

“That’s what I’m getting to, princess. So impatient,” he taunts, standing up to full height again. Sam haphazardly wipes the slick off of his face with his forearm, not really caring how much he removes. He kicks off his shoes and socks before taking off his slacks and boxers in one go, revealing that gorgeous cock again. He stands before me, looking like some kinda statue of physical perfection. I have to physically close my jaw looking at him.

“Like what you see, princess?”

I stick out my tongue and blow a raspberry.

“Real mature, sweetheart,” he rolls his eyes. “You have a condom?”

I shake my head. “Don’t need one, I’m on the pill and I have morning after. Want you to fuck me and fill me,” I tell him honestly.

“God you’re a slut and you’re freaky? I’d never have guessed,” he mused, stepping between my thighs. I assume he’s clean as well since he doesn’t really… get out much.

“Yeah, that’s cause you’re not the brightest,” I tell him, scooting as close to the edge as I can without falling.

“Uh huh,” he says sarcastically, before picking me up and slamming my shoulder into a nearby wall, yet gently resting my back against it. Gentle with my injury, wow. Wouldn’t have expected it. I gasp, surprised by the sudden motion.

“Payback for the gut punch,” he explains.

“Oh yeah? I’ll punch you again if you don’t fuck me,” I say, a mean edge to my voice.

“Mkay,” he says, obviously not swaying either way as he aligns his tip with my entrance.

“Fuck me,” I order through a gasp, unable to wait anymore.

“Careful what you wish for there, princess,” he warns, before sheathing himself in me in one go.

Look, I can get laid whenever I want, especially back when I was on duty as a hunter. I’m no stranger to sex, and I have a decently high sex drive. If I can’t get some, then I always have backup- toys and vibrators, you name it.

But Sam? His dick was big in my mouth, but in my pussy? I feel like I’ve been split in two, my mouth is dropped in an o. But it feels so, so good.

“Move,” I demand after a few moments of adjusting.

“Say my name,” he cocks his head, pushing impossibly deeper so that he’s practically touching my cervix.

“Sammy,” I say with as much sass as I can muster, my voice high from the added pressure. I know he hates the nickname, it makes him feel like a baby. Because he is one.

“Nuh uh, princess. Say my name,” the pad of his thumb flits over my clit.

“Unh- Sam!” I moan, unable to stop myself.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Now ask me to fuck you. Nicely.”

“No.”

“Guess I’ll be on my way then,” he starts pulling out.

“No!” I whine.

“Ask nicely.”

“Sam, fuck me please?” I ask with as much sweetness and doe eyes as possible for me.

“You really are sweet when you’re horny,” he remarks, pulling back, before setting a brutal pace that has me raking my nails across his back and moaning his stupid name. He’s pounding into me with all of his might, sweat sheening on his brow.

It’s so hard that I can barely get any words out, and I hate it, but it just feels too good.

And of course, Sammy has enough words for the both of us.

“Fucking you dumb, huh? Got such a big attitude until I’m in you, just needed this dick,” he says, laughing meanly as I involuntarily clench at his words.

“What? You like me being mean to you? You get wet every time we fight?” a particularly hard set of thrusts accompanies each of the words in his third rhetorical question. I moan, not even sure of the answer. Probably? Maybe? Gah.

“Look at you, taking it like a good slut. You’re so tight and wet, and it’s all f’me,” his raspy voice starts slurring with lust. He brings one of his hands between us, finding my swollen clit and rutting on it, tracing patterns just as he did before with his tongue.

“S-Sam, it’s too much-,” I cry, unable to handle the overstimulation.

“Good,” he grins wickedly, before upping the ante both in thrusts and in rutting, unraveling me into a mess in his arms. I cry his name, helpless as I come down for the second time.

“So soon?” he tuts, not slowing his pace.

“Sh-shut up- ah-,” is all I can say as he gets impossibly rougher, chasing his own release.

“Gotta finish the job, princess,” he stutters, before growing more and more erratic. He’s got me on edge again as he does so, but mercifully comes before I can. I feel his hot release in me, filling me up just a little too full with his dick that he hasn’t yet pulled out.

Eventually he wordlessly puts me down, fingers plugging our mixed release in me. I can’t even complain- him keeping me full is unfortunately kinda hot.

“So…” he starts, looking down at me.

“Get out,” I interrupt.

“No,” he says, not moving.

This is going to be a long afternoon.

****************************************************

“Did you guys finally get into a bout?” Dean asks as we walk (re: stumble) out of the med bay and into the kitchen where he and Cas are sitting playing Uno, Bon Jovi playing in the background. “Oh- oh.”

Yeah, it’s pretty obvious the fight we got into. There’s no hiding it, even if we had tidied up our hair or faces- there’s scratches and bruises everywhere. Whoops.

“Are you guys in need of healing?” Cas asks innocently as Sam and I sit down a chair apart.

“No, Cas… these are, uh, special bruises. The fun kind. And they’re everywhere, apparently… damn, Sammy.” Dean comments as he surveys his brother and I. Sam coughs, and I reach over to punch him from my seat away. He grunts, and then we all go quiet.

“So… all in favor of never talking about this?” I ask after an uncomfortably long uncomfortable silence.

“Aye,” say the brothers in unison. Cas also agrees after Dean elbows him. “Fantastic.”

[slytherintothedms]

if dean isn’t (at the very least) bi why is there always a close up of his face every time anything queer happens

[boywifesammy]

???????? IM SORRY….

WHAT DID THEY MEAN BY THIS???????

[frontseathater]

writers: yeah we put lots of destiel in the subtext

the subtext:

[elronmusk]

And just days before pride month too

[castiels-undercoat]

When I'm really at my lowest I just have to remember there were things, people, and feelings that Dean wanted to experience differently then he had before or maybe even for the first time

[flowersintheimpala69]

S8E4 a guy says “Is it just me or are you getting a workplace romance vibe from those two?” about sam and dean. like. someone had to write that line. and someone else needed to approve of it. and then they had to film it. and no one said “hey maybe what if we don’t make a joke about these two brothers having sex? Don’t you think we have enough incest jokes?” and ykw maybe someone DID say that, and all the spn writers chuckled and nodded their heads and then took him out back and shot him