#and what i headcanon as dean's drawings

[silver-stake-through-the-heart]

@angelsdean

The Men of Letters Bestiary is an idea of Sam, who is overjoyed at the idea of being a legacy boy.

There are 7 sections (Monsters, Ghosts, etc). 5 are introduced by the both of them, and they both introduce one section alone (Sam, the ghosts; Dean, the angels)

Entries: Sam: 29 alone + 21 annoted by Dean Dean: 18 alone + 1 annoted by Sam

[atenea585]

23 with Dean plss!!! 🫦

Oh, I know what you are looking for and I will give it to you😏

Prompts: “Is there some space left in that bathtub?”

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut, Dean being a menace, sex in the bathtub.

You were sitting in the bathtub, eyes closed. Dean had gone on a hunt and this was your only way to relax and not think about his well-being. That's why you always said goodbye to him with a kiss and a hug, wishing him luck and asking him to return safely. You knew he was a professional and knew how to handle himself, but the fear was still there.

You were so deep in thought that you didn't hear Dean open the bathroom door. The first thing he had done when he arrived was look for you and when he didn't find you, he went to the room you both shared. He saw the closed bathroom door and the light peeking out from underneath and a mischievous smile spread across his face. He placed his bag at the foot of the bed before walking to the door.

Your body was so relaxed that your sixth sense failed when Dean approached.

“Enjoying your time alone?”

You jumped, opening your eyes in surprise. The water in the tub swayed, some falling to the bathroom floor. You put a hand to your chest, feeling your heart racing.

“God, Dean! Why do you have to be so quiet? You almost gave me cardiac arrest.”

Dean just laughed and raised both hands in peace.

“I'm sorry, honey, didn't mean to.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest, drawing Dean's gaze to that spot.

“So…” He looked over your body.

"So?"

They exchanged glances and he ran a hand over his mouth.

“Is there some space left in that bathtub?”

You smiled sideways and shrugged.

“I don't know, maybe.”

"Maybe?"

"Maybe..."

He nodded and placed his hands on his hips.

“Well… We better find out.” He said before taking off his shoes along with his socks.

You laughed as he stepped into the tub still dressed, standing in front of you as the water rippled back and forth.

"What are you doin’?"

He took off his shirt and lowered himself until he was close to your face, keeping his balance by gripping the edges of the tub.

“You look beautiful like this, doll.”

He closed the short distance and kissed you, his tongue immediately intertwining with yours. You didn't waste your time, not after having him away. You ran your hands over his hard chest and lowered them to his belt, taking it off before unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them and his boxers down as far as you could.

Seconds later, he was inside you, water spilling around you as you moaned. Your nails scratching his back as his cock hit the inside of your pussy again and again, rubbing against your walls wonderfully.

“You feel so good, doll.” He rested his forehead on yours as he watched your expressions.

“I missed you.” You muttered.

“I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere.”

And as it all built you felt comforted beneath him, most of your body submerged in the water, your legs around his hips and his breath on your face.

You wished it would last forever.

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[aachria]

The long awaited (maybe? Idk how many of you were waiting for this) SSSBMTY College AU!

Majors in bold

Headcanons in regular text

Notes about the art indented in orange

Luffy — Undeclared

Was forced into school by his gramps. (The university dean. The fucking dorm building all the Strawhats but Jimbei live in is named after him.)(it was this or join the navy.) Takes the most random classes he can. Some of them are advanced and require perquisites and no one knows how he keeps getting into them. Wears shorts and sandals in winter & will run any errand or do any odd job for food. He has a very nice bike he got for free from a garage sale that Franky fixed up. There's a campus wide bet on when and what he'll choose as his major. His bucket hat was a gift from Shanks, the universities World Economics prof. Has a million friendship bracelets on his ankles because Ed makes them when they're stressed. Never has a bag on him. Fights Canadian geese on the way to class, like a fucking maniac. Protected species who?

When I tell you that this drawing of Luffy is the first time I've ever drawn actual feet with toes that don't look fucking ridiculous I need to cheer for me. Why is he a different flavour of boy every time I draw him please. His ass isn't rubber in this universe, of course he's scuffed to shit. Chopper ran out of Spiderman bandaids, sorry bud. Advocate for the Single Piercing Luffy™ agenda, he went and got it done with Ed when they got their helix.

Ed — English major Psychology minor

Took History of Piracy for easy grades & a story idea. Known around campus as that asshole who'll tell you exactly which of your roommates ate your leftovers for $5. Is roommates with Luffy because of a system mix-up when they got distributed. Always wears a Burberry trench coat Nami thrifted for $3 and gave them as a bday gift. Carries everything in a ratty falling apart messenger bag. Them and Luffy filled out marriage papers on a dare, Zoro (who got legally ordained on a dare minutes before) oversaw that, Zoro and Ed filed the papers when they were drunk. So Ed and Luffy are legally married. And they don't even notice until tax season and Jonah, Ed's accounting friend, asks about it.

I need you to ignore the inconsistence with the hands in these ok? Some of them get very nice and normal hands, and others get weird shaped blobs. Sorry Ed, them's the breaks kid.

Zoro — Health and Fitness major Mathematics minor

Literally no one knows why he has a Mathematics minor, least of all him. P sure he walked into the wrong class on the first day and just stuck with it. The most terrifying captain of the kendo team the university has ever had. He's won more championships and trophies in his tenure than the school has in its history, the revenue he brings in from sponsorships and such make them turn a blind eye to his... eccentricities (three sword style. Nobody has stopped him yet, anyone who says it's illegal gets penalized). Has had campus security called on him so often from being creepy when walking home from the gym in the dark there's a poster of him in the security office that says 'NOT ACTUALLY A THREAT. JUST WEIRD AND WALKS WITH PURPOSE.'

Zoro's sword patch on his jacket was designed by Usopp, embroidered by Luffy for a class (shittily) and fixed up and sewn on by Ed. Those docs have seen war. He has put them through hell. He has walked through a fucking river with those things, he superglues them back together every time they break. Franky had to strongarm him into getting the soles professionally replaced.

Nami — Meteorology major Finance minor

All of her clothes are thrifted designer things. Regularly terrorizes Value Village employees. Anything she has that isn't thrifted she gets from the many estate sales she plagues, snatching grandma's entire Chanel collection and all her nicest jewelry. She has absolutely everything anyone could ever need in her purse. Tampons and pads? She gotchu. Extra pens? It'll cost you, but yeah. A curling iron? Sure, why the hell not. She runs the betting pool on Luffy's major with Ed. She also writes a gossip column for the school newspaper and has a podcast she uploads a new episode to every few months. Shows up to every class looking like a supermodel no matter the time. 7am? Perfect. 10pm? Fabulous. Your go-to if you get locked out of your dorm. Has a moped but barely uses it.

Nami's bag is a large Prada Gallaria Saffiano bag, which I painstaking drew to accuracy down to the colour even though it still looks ever so slightly different, because Nami is a big purse girl. The compass rose necklace was a going away gift from Nojiko when she left for uni. I think her haircut is so cute I love her sm. Don't pay any mind to how fucking disheveled half of their lineart looks next to her pls.

Usopp — Graphic Design major

Not a member of the archery club, but shows up enough he’s in all the team photos. Was originally the designated driver, had a pretty little mini van they called the Merry, had one of those fucking fuzzy dice hanging mirror things in the shape of a sheep’s head. Got in a bad car accident and she got totaled by some jackass in a red Honda Civic. Dating Kaya, who’s a nursing student. They barely see each other because she’s so fucking busy and half the students are convinced the girlfriend Usopp is always talking about and calling is fake. The Strawhats have a dnd campaign that they run every other week, Usopp DM's. On weekends he works at an axe throwing range and holds the record for most bullseyes in a row. They have his picture mounted on the wall.

Usopp's necklace is the old key to the Merry, and he engraved his belt buckle for a project. I cursed his ass with the giant fuck off portfolio bag because those things are so big and unwieldy. The people in his program's studio never clean their paint up properly, that's why he's covered in it. Advocate for the Usopp With Gages™ agenda. God he is such a cutie patootie.

Sanji — Business degree

Literally grew up working in a restaurant, he’s only going to school to get the degree so he can open his own and also because Zeff threated to castrate him if he didn't get a higher education. Cooks basically every single meal for the dorm, since it’s just the Strawhats (it's a new (old it's old and was refurbished. Everyone assumed it was haunted.) building that they just dedicated to Garp. Has no other residents yet). Him and Zoro fight so much in their shared room half the time he ends up kicking him out and making him sleep in the community room lmao. He just shows up in half the culinary classes because he hates the business ones so much, the one time someone tried to tell him to leave he cussed them out for a full ten minutes while gesticulating wildly with a knife in hand. They never tried that again. Saw one of the profs berate a young lady for wearing a dress shirt to class because it’s impractical and proceeded to take that personally. Yeah he wears three piece suits to all his classes, he could still kick you ass in ‘em. Shut up. Volunteers to show around foreign exchange students because he can speak at least 4 foreign languages fluently. Is it to woo pretty French girls with his charm? Wouldn't you like to know.

I could not draw Sanji in a decent pose for the life of me, his ass was just not having it. He's got one of them really nice leather messenger bags with the lined pockets and filigree, he's very proud of it.

Chopper — PreMed

One of the few Strawhats who regularly sees Usopp’s reclusive girlfriend, and is very confused as to why people think she isn’t real. Still a literal child (is 15 still a child? Yeah that's like barely a teenager), a goddamn prodigy and got in with an incredibly good recommendation from the best doctor in the country, who just so happens to be his adoptive mother. He’s literally too cute for anyone to question that, plus he’s the sharpest tack in the damn class. He knocked his front tooth out ages ago (it was an adult tooth) but he's too fucking busy to get an appointment to get it fixed, just adds another layer to his babyface. Nice girls keep asking him if he's here to go see his parents or older siblings, he's endlessly infuriated by it and Sanji is endlessly jealous. Saved Ed from choking to death in a Domino's parking lot the first time they met, he dropped his pizza doing it so they bought him another. The rest is history. Does not feel cold, wears chunky boots year round. Got them reflective ass eyes like a deer, no one has ever taken a good picture of this child. He looks fucking possessed in his school ID.

TELL ME WHY I ALMOST FORGOT TO DRAW CHOPPER. I finished drawing Franky and was like "gee, only Brook and Jimbei to go! Good for me," and then I had to pause while looking as the picture of the group I was semi-referencing for heights n shit and was like "OH FUCK THE CHILD—" He's so cute tho. He's giving lil baby Goro Akechi. The argyle sweater vest and Timbs were a must, so was his hockey boy haircut. Matching backpack and tie for the win. Oh and the freckles, Chopper with freckles is everything to me.

Robin — Has a million hyper specific degrees. Currently earning her third doctorate.

Very mysterious and sexy. Mature student who occasionally gives lectures in the archeology program when she has free time. Owns a motorcycle but barely rides it. How is she not in debt after so much schooling? Don't fucking ask if you want to live. Is that why she lives in the dorm building? Do. Not. Ask. She and Luffy attend the same Theology class, no one knows how Luffy is passing with such good grades, but Robin is adamant that he doesn't take notes or borrow hers, and takes to having the same scores as him with grace. Child actor on one of those show like Barney (but not Barney dear lord) or Reading Rainbow and people only knew her as 'that kid with the creepy fuckin stare.' She was a meme a few years back, they called her the devil child. Every time someone asks her about it she just says she has no idea what they're talking about while giving them the creepy stare.

Women with Big Bags truther, right here. Robin deserves to be put in a suit. Goddamnit, get that woman in a suit!

Franky — Has a bachelors of Engineering, a bachelors of Architecture, and is earning his (water specific) Architecture degree

Currently the groups designated driver (after the tragic death of the poor Merry) with his supped up SUV, the Sunny. How do all the Strawhats fit inside? The power of love, obviously. That car will NOT fucking move if even one of the seatbelts is undone. Made Ed and Luffy wedding rings after he found out they accidentally got married. (Only after laughing for a half our straight, almost passing out, and laughing again. Then he cried for another hour about how beautiful it was.) He sometimes works as a nude model for life drawing classes on campus. Half of the the Strawhats have, in one way or another, seen him in the buck. Has knee braces from an... incident... with a train when he was younger. Now he volunteers at KidsAbility and has a shift on the campus crisis/suicide hotline. Huge advocate for mental health services at the school. He lives in the dorms for the ✨experience✨. Even worse than Luffy, mf wears booty shorts in the dead of winter. He's constantly dressed like It's laundry day. One of those guys from a famous Vine when he was younger that just gets stopped while he's walking so people can go "TRAMPOLINE VASE GUY??" (Iceberg was recording. I love Iceberg.)

Yes Franky is wearing an I ♥ MILFs shirt, what of it? It was a gift. Drawing him was an exercise in struggling with the pompadour and getting uncomfortably close to drawing Syndrome. Yes, he's cold all the time. No, he will not stop.

Brook — Literally no one knows. Something music related probably.

Fucker has been around forever, there’s old ass profs who swear to god they went to school with him and he hasn’t aged a day. Regularly plays local bars and cafes. Doesn't own a cellphone, he can literally only operate rotary phones. Computers confuse the shit out of him. Knows nothing about pop culture or recent events, but is up to date on everything in the music industry. He sometimes helps organize the old library archives because he's somehow the only person who understands the system they're organized in. Sometimes he'll just namedrop a famous singer/band he's either played with, done karaoke with, or done background vocals/instrumentals for and you have to guess whether he's telling the truth or just saying shit. There's a campus wide betting pool (run by Nami and Ed, go figure) on whether he's a vampire, ghost, time traveler, or Dorian Gray in disguise. Prepares the questions for 70s night pub trivia. Every time the Strawhats plan a ghost hunt he's busy, then at the end they find out that all the paranormal shit they've been experiencing is just him running his errands. It's happened at least four times.

Is Brook off-putting enough? I was trying to make him off-putting. He swears up and down the neck tattoo was gotten on a dare by Elton John, what, you gonna question a man who looks like he stepped out of Coraline? The skeleton gloves were a gift from Ed.

Jimbei — Has already graduated as a Marine Biology major Political Science minor and is taking both a Gender Studies course and a Peace and Conflict Studies course years later.

Teaches martial arts at a local dojo on weekends and volunteers with the martial arts team on campus. Robin helps him organize protests on weekends. He's good buds with a lot of the faculty and gets invited to after work drinks regularly. He helped establish a program that walks people who stay late at the library to their dorms when he was first a student that's still going strong to this day. Lives off campus and has the Strawhats over for BBQ on long weekends. Literally the only time the Strawhats eat food not made by Sanji. The Grill Master™. Somehow holds some kind of record or high score at every single bar/pub in town. Knows every single mailman and janitor by name. MVP of the catch and release fishing club, helps plan all of their trips.

I struggled with him. I struggled hard. That's a man who went his whole childhood with a horrendous underbite and only got it fixed once he was an adult. Ed gave him the fishing lure earrings out of guilt after he brought them on one of his fishing trips and they fell in and nearly capsized their boat. IT'S A REUSED PLASTIC BAG JIMBEI IS RESPONSIBLE ABOUT THE ENVIRONMENT—

[hobiespick]

Sam Winchester x reader headcanons

a/n: if you thought I only made shitty Sam headcanons, WRONG‼️ cuz I also made a shitty moodboard (i'm extra like that yeehaw)

- Takes notice of the books you read, that is if you don't give him recomendations bc if you do that boy has a whole ass notepad and is a fast writter so try him.

- "Y/n would like this" "Y/n would probably know" "Y/n was right"- Dean gets seriously tired and makes jokes about how often Sam talks about you

- you think he's joking untill Sam isn't glaring daggers at him- but instead he starts blushing and straching the back of his head like a damn schoolboy.

- reads your body language very well- "What's wrong?" Sam asks putting all of his attention onto you. "Nothing" You shrug it off (you're not slick at all). "Bull." Sam chides still looking at you hoping you'll tell him.

-literally the happiest when you sigh defeated and tell him what's wrong but shakes it off to actually listen to you.

- uses the soft tone he talks to victims with on you- not because he thinks you're weak or fragile

- you're a badass and he knows it

- you complimented him once on it (his voice) saying he is good at comforting and how no wonder people open up that easily when he talks like THAT to them.

- "Miss, when was your neighbour killed?" All puppy eyes furrowed eyebrows and soft tone almost sticking his chin to his chest + that fake ass FBI badge, You: "Yes-"

- Sam probably met Jess through the art courses he took I'm sobbing-

- I watched that episode and I had no idea (I'm so happy google exists) what he was talking about and I'm damn art student jesus christ

- "It's good for meeting girls." So good- SHHSAJGSS I'M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH SAM PLEASE

- Artsy Sam save me, Please Artsy Sam

- So touch starved, hug this man PLEASE

- If you're an artist yourself and draw, sketch, paint whatever, he'll want to see it

- even teach him some stuff, LAWD

- researches stuff abt you when he can't get you out of his head- for example : the meaning of your name, your zodiac sign, which celebrity you share your bday with, etc (he can't help it)

- reads banned literature (isn't he so dreamy? 💞)

- his favourite movie is the notebook or pride and prejudice (and book!) because I said so

- Unconciously mirros your movements or tics, for example if you rub your nose with your wrist, he starts doing it too (it's contagious)

- Dean points it out but Sam wasn't raised to be fair so he justifies himself by saying he had that tic first and YOU are the one who started mimmicking him

- it's an ongoing war for some time but beacuse the system's corrupt the bastard lawboy Sam wins

- you two share an interest? HE IS SO HAPPY

- oh no! His t shirt accidentally made it's way into your bag! How did that happen? (It's him officer, that is the loverboy take him away)

- Alexa/google play good old fashioned loverboy by queen

- really likes earthy smells (freshly cut grass, pine trees and so on)

- Dean when he says your instead of you're

- love language is definetly quality time and touch

a/n: it took alot of self encouragement to post this so feedback would be very much appreciated<3! And for every person who voted "YEAHHH" on the poll, I hope your pillow is cold tonight 💞🫶

[scoobydoodean]

#birthday party for dean 2024

Okay I am officially hosting a celebration for Dean's birthday this year! 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 If you would like to participate with me in a Dean Birthday Bash, please join me in Dean's birthday posting on Dean's birthday (January 24th!!!)

HOW TO PARTICIPATE

Post on January 24th with the tag: #birthday party for dean 2024

Write or create or tell us anything related to Dean's birthday or birthday party!

For example:

Show or tell us what you think Dean's ideal birthday present would be or what you would give him!

Draw art or write a ficlet relating to Dean's birthday!

Share a headcanon with us about Dean's birthday!

Make a meme about Dean's birthday!

Tell us how you think Team Free Will would or should celebrate!

[thevioletcaptain]

It cracks Dean open not only to see Cas, finally, but to instantly recognize such a familiar gaze on his otherworldly face. This is Cas. This is Cas. - Castiel's self portrait from The Beholder (on tumblr & ao3)

Peek under the cut for some jellyfish I referred to as inspiration, along with an earlier concept of the art :)

For a long time I've headcanoned angelic trueforms as looking a little like giant cosmic jellyfish. I've tried several times to draw jellyfish!trueform!Cas and it's never quite worked, but when I received a fic prompt consisting of these emojis:

🪼👀🎨

The need to try again was unavoidable.

I'm still not 100% happy with this version, but it's definitely getting closer to the vision!

These are the jellyfish pictures I used in particular while coming up with the concept for Cas' trueform in this ficlet. I tried blending aspects of these with aspects of what are commonly referred to these days as "biblically accurate angels" -- mostly thrones, which yeah, I know, Cas is a seraph, but in the words of Ron Swanson... I can do what I want.

This was just an earlier concept of Cas' self portrait. I still like the halo, but ultimately didn't end up liking it on the newer version.

Below is an earlier draft of the concept I eventually used, before I'd changed some colors and added more layers of wings/eyes/feathers etc. My hand slipped when I had a thick brush selected and accidentally drew him slurping Dean with a mildly horrifying prehensile tongue 😅

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

hiii 🫶🏽 i’m so sorry you’re going through a tough time and i hope it improves soon!!💙 college is suuuuper stressful, especially with life outside of school it can get overwhelming so your feelings are completely understandable and i hope you’re alright. 🫂🤍

i am by no means a writer, but maybe little sister!winchester:

- always tries to mimic the boys because they’re the coolest people she knows. so like if dean is rocking out in the impala bobbing his head, drumming and humming, she’ll start trying to imitate him.

- the boys of course realize this after a while and find it amusing. dean tries to get her to mimic certain behaviors and sam has to be the one to draw a line sometimes lol

- she is a picky eater. which is hard enough considering they don’t have many options to choose from most of the time but usually they’re able to convince her with something simple like the promise of a bedtime story

- she likes being held by her brothers, not only because they’re her comfort but because the height makes her feel safer too 😭

- idk i feel like she’d get anxious a lot because she’s so short and small and surrounded by all these tall adults, but as soon as they lift her and she’s like 6ft up in the arms of her brothers she instantly relaxes

- which means she usually has a hard time sleeping without them putting her to sleep but they don’t mind because she falls asleep fairly quickly most of the time.

- i’d think that’s because as much as they try to shelter her from the life she’s still generally aware enough of ‘the monsters that hide in the closet’ and she’s constantly anxious which tires her out.

- so with her brothers and the right setting she can fall asleep in less than 10 minutes. the only times it takes forever for her to settle in and sleep is when one of the brothers are out and about

- she is bobbys favorite 100%. he can act grumpy all he wants especially when she wants to put stickers on him or gets marker stains on the table, but he obviously favors her :p

- she goes quiet if she’s feeling unwell.

- like she will talk a lot usually, but if she says maybe one or two words in 20 minutes, the boys start to get concerned

- they of course always take care of her and as you’ve written before they’ll be an anxious mess the whole time until she feels better

i’m not sure if i did this whole headcanon thing right but these are some of my thoughts 😅 (little!sister winchester being like less than 8 in all of these)

i hope your day gets better!!🫶🏽 i adore your writing and appreciate you for sharing it :)💗 have a lovely day!!<3

I’m not alright but hopefully I will be, thanks 😅.

Oh my gosh these headcannons are literally so cute, thanks so much! This is exactly what I needed, you’re awesome 💜💜💜

[platonic-soulmates-gencest]

for the mommy dean headcanons, i am SO convinced that sam, as a young kid, would argue/be upset with picture book stories that depict the mom doing the things that dean did for him, because those aren't mom things, they're brother things!!! obviously!!!

He absolutely did that! Especially when he's 2 to 4 years old (before kindergarten but old enough to speak a bit). Dean would find picture books in libraries or abandoned in motels and he would read them to him. But sometimes Sam would look over the pictures first while Dean was cooking or something. And he would see a cartoon character do the dishes or cook or kiss the protagonist's knee well and Sam would be convinced it's the protagonist's brother BUT THEN DEAN READS HIM THE BOOK at night and it's not a brother but a mother and Sam is furious. He's so furious sometimes he would even tear the pages apart. Or just take a marker and put a big black X on top of the text so nobody would read the wrong story.

And when this happens at first, Sam has barely began to speak, he can't articulate his thoughts well and Dean doesn't understand what is wrong with the book. He just knows that Sam hates it. He makes a mental list of all the books Sam hates and avoids them. He doesn't find out why Sam hates the books so much until he is 3 and Sam finally blurts out. "That's a Dean, not a mommy." And Dean is torn. He doesn't want Sam to get the wrong idea but he preens under the validation that he's doing a good job taking care of Sammy. He still makes an effort to explain that Mommy did those things for Dean to Sam but Sam is relentless and disagrees. Eventually Dean just lets him tear the book apart.

Sam does not remember he did this but Dean remembers. He's kept one of the picture books that Sam was mad about. Sam finds it in Dean's stuff (long after they've moved in the Bunker) and he sees the torn pages and the Xs over the texts and an awful drawing of Dean on top of the Fox's mom face.

And I'm gonna stop here because I think I can spurt an entire fic out of this concept after Sam finds this book and it would get so long 😅

Anyway thank you for the ask! I drew some serious inspiration from this and it should be added to my future fic bucket list haha

[winchesterdreamgirl88]

NFSW Alphabet-Dean Winchester

Warning: Smut, 18+, language, Mention of knives

A/n:

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

First thing he would do is make sure you're okay, then he would get a warm towel and clean you off. Then he would bring you water or anything you needed before cuddling you

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Dean would also be very proud of his hands because they are so strong and rough just like him he knows they really turn you on

His favorite body part of yours is your hips because he likes being able to grab onto you and control you

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Dean likes to be risky sometimes even if you are on birth control sometimes he'll cum inside you

If not he cums on your titties

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Dean secretly loves when you tease him and make him jealous on purpose because then he gets to really show you that you are his and no one else's

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Obviously Dean is gonna be very experienced but boy does this man know how to pleasure the hell out of you!!

Don't even get me started on demon Dean because let's be honest best and hottest sex ever!

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Dean likes when you ride him because he gets to focus on you and making you feel good. But he also really enjoys missionary when you lock your legs around him and he can lift your leg up and go fully deep inside you.

F = Foreplay(how much time do they take pleasing you, teasing, etc) (I haven't actually seen anyone do this and I think it's a fun one to add:)

I feel like Dean would be the KING of foreplay. He would definitely be into edging you on and then not letting you cum. He would do this about 3 times or until you've begged him enough

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I feel like Dean would start out goofy like just bullying you and purposely trying to get you a little riled up and then he would take control

But if you make him jealous he will be so serious because he wants you to know that he's in charge of you and he'll make you listen

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dean has a little bit of hair but not a crazy amount, maybe just like his beard where it's slightly rough but not overwhelming

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Dean is actually very intimate with you because he's so happy to finally be with someone who really loves him and excepts him and helps him

If he's jealous he's not as intimate but he'll still make sure you're okay

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dean has a very high sex drive so I feel like he would do it a lot

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dean loves choking you because he loves feeling like he has power and control over you. But you also like it because even though he's being dominant you still trust him to not hurt you

Dean also wouldn't mind you being tied up with either a rope or his belt just to control you

I feel like Demon Dean would ABSOLUTELY have a knife kink. Not ever to draw blood but just graze your skin

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

If Dean could have you anywhere and everywhere he could. You and Dean definitely have sex every time you guys are sleeping at the bunker and if Sam isn't around sometimes you guys will try other rooms in the bunker.

SHOWER SEX!!

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He loves seeing you in one of his flannels and some fuzzy socks with your hair in a messy ponytail or bun. If you have your glasses on that's an extra bonus:)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that would hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dean likes receiving head because you are the best he's ever had

But he could also just sit there and eat you for a long time

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Dean is always really fast and rough because that's who he is

There are definitely times when he's upset you or is sorry or just wants to make you feel better he will take his time and make sure to let you know how special you are to him

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If Dean can have you anywhere he could so if he gets a chance like if Sam leaves to get food or do research you guys usually will end up doing the deed

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I feel like Dean would be really risky with you but he would also make sure you were okay with everything he is doing

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Dean can usually last about 3 or 4, possibly 5 if he's really horny

Demon Dean could go forever as long as he wanted but once you were to tired or sore he would stop

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I feel like since Dean likes teasing and foreplay he would definitely be okay with you having a vibrator if he could control it and tease you with it

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Dean very much likes to tease you because he's the king of foreplay and will make you squirm

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Dean is usually very vocal and his voice is so low and raspy his moans are even deeper and sexier

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Lazy sex I feel like is something that Dean would really like. Especially after a hunt or if you guys have a free day

Car sex. If he's really desperate he'll opt to just do the deed in Baby.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Dean might not be as long as Sam but he can definitely satisfy you. But he's also super thick so he fills you out more

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Dean has a very high sex drive and is usually very handsy in public

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Dean would first clean you, bring you water or food, then he would either give you a back massage or just rub your arm or play with your hair until you fall asleep and then he would spoon you and fall asleep after.

[zepskies]

Omgosh I loveeee the imagines for Sam having a crush on deans gf!!! And the part 2 SO ANGSTY. And you write dean and readers interactions so well! (Feel free to ignore if you don't wanna do this) But I'm so curious to know how the conversation went between Dean and the reader after finding out! I just need to know how dean talks about the situation with them!! Anyway HAVE A GREAT DAY 🩷🩷

Hello my lovely anon!

I'm so glad you enjoyed those angsty little imagines. 😂 For those who don't know, they're referring to these:

You are Dean's one exception. (In which Sam is in love with Dean's girlfriend - and how Dean reacts.)

Sam crosses the line. (The sequel: Sam finally sees his chance with you after he's hit by a witch's spell.)

I tried to imply what followed between the reader and Dean after this section:

Your eyes widen further. You look from Sam, to your boyfriend. Dean's jaw is clenched tight.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?!" you ask in earnest.

Dean meets your gaze for a moment, his face tense. His reluctant eyes communicate to you things you never knew. Things that clog emotion in your throat.

But since you asked so nicely, this is my headcanon for that conversation between the reader and Dean (after Sam is knocked out by Rowena lol):

Of course, you would demand to know why Dean didn't tell you earlier.

Your heart and mind are a maelstrom of emotions: shock, not wanting to believe it's true, anger and hurt at both of these men for lying to you for so long about what's been going on.

Because a lie of omission is still a damn lie.

Dean is quiet at first, and you're forced to read into his silence. You peer at him closer, grabbing his wrist.

"Dean...did you really think it would change anything?" you ask incredulously.

His brows furrow. "No."

But you don't quite believe him.

"I just...didn't want you to have to deal with this shit, that's all," he eventually admits.

Your eyes narrow as you stare up at his face. You're trying to discern the truth.

"Is that really why?" you ask.

"Yeah, okay?" His voice is gruff and frustrated.

You move in closer, gripping the open edges of his plaid shirt. He knows what you're demanding in your gentle silence.

Don't lie to me.

Your hand reaches up to his cheek, a tender gesture that softens him. Your thumb brushes across his lower lip.

"Good," you reply. "Because if I have to remind you that I am entirely, undeniably, irrevocably in love with you, then I might just have to punish you."

A slow smirk spreads across your man's face.

"Oh yeah?" he says. His hands find your hips, drawing you closer. You're satisfied by the hint of doubt washing away from his demeanor. From his tight shoulders loosening.

"Just outta curiosity, what might that entail?" Dean asks.

Your lips curve. "Oh, you'll find out, after we fix your brother... Dean, I'll need to talk to him."

Dean's burgeoning good humor fades, but you take his face in both your hands and make sure he meets your gaze. You are firm in your convictions, and he sees that.

He nods in acceptance, before he dips down to press his lips to yours. It's gentle at first, but all too soon becomes claiming, born of hidden frustration and passion.

When he parts from you, it's slow, reluctant. His fingers draw a strand of hair behind your ear.

In his eyes, you see the true depths of him. Something not many people get to see.

It's there that you always know that you're loved.

I hope that satisfied you, my dear! 😘 I miiiiight do a more official 3rd part to this imagine-verse where Sam gets his happy ending (with Eileen).

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[lttl3babybug]

Regressor!Sam Winchester Headcanons

A/N: i apologise for any inaccuracies to character :( I’m only on season 4 and it’s my first time watching the show I’m just really really fixated and it’s the only content my brain is letting me make rn

📓Sam regresses to a similar age as Dean, typically a little younger though

📓I’d say 3-6 for his age range but as he gets older he starts reverting back to his teen years every now and then

📓Oh this little guy loves the outdoors

📓Little Sam’s ideal day out is going to sit by a river with Dean so he can tell him about rocks ‘n stuff

📓He also loves a good museum, especially an interactive one

📓He’s very clingy when he’s small

📓He needs to be holding something, if he’s not holding Dean or Cas’s hand then he’s holding onto his own shirt or a stuffie

📓He definitely likes stuffed animals, they bring him a lot of comfort

📓Sam regresses for a hundred and one different reasons but a big one is that this little guy is sleep deprived

📓He whines about being tired then whines when it’s bedtime

📓He loves reading, he has a few of them ‘1000 fun facts’ books that he reads facts from to tell to his big brother

📓He sways on his feet SO MUCH, cannot stand still to save his life

📓He’s not as much of a chatterbox as little Dean but when he’s talking he’s talking

📓Lots of ‘um’ and ‘uuhhh’ when talking but give the little guy a minute and he’s back on track

📓He just gets so ahead of himself when telling people things

📓Sam loves a paci, he adores them and will keep it in longer than the recommended 15 minutes

📓Deco paci’s also aren’t really his thing but mainly bc of how much he travels, he doesn’t want it breaking :(

📓If he’s watching tv he prefers nature documentaries or blues clues

📓Sam loves blues clues.

📓Such a smiley little kid

📓He’s one of them toddlers who’ll just sit on the floor giggling to himself

📓He draws! He draws a lot with crayons since they’re the most accessible thing to him with most of the diners he and Dean visit keep them at the tables

📓If they’re eating out Sam often feels a bit too embarrassed to get them kids menus you can do mazes on and such so he makes Dean get one too

📓He loves word searches and connect the dots

📓Very tactile, his hands are on everything

📓The moment they’re sticky he’ll cry and awkwardly wave them at Dean till he cleans them for him

📓He’s very codependent on his cg or Dean

📓Also a pet regressor although he’s not quite figured that out yet but occasionally his brain flips into puppy mode and he’ll go lay across Dean’s lap

📓Fruit 🫶

📓Little Sam loves fruit and yogurt and will always plead to help whoever’s making it

📓He could happily spend a whole day in his jammies eating endless amounts of fruit and yogurt

📓He doesn’t ‘play’ much but he will make his stuffies talk to people or make it seem like they’re talking to him

📓He mainly does it if he’s too nervous to ask for something

“Dean..Miss Kitty says she wants a friend” Sam mumbled to his older brother, the cat clutched to his chest as he glanced at the shelf of plushies off to the side, “did she now? Well..I dunno Sammy..Miss Kitty has a lot of friends already” Dean hummed, smirking a little as his brothers brows furrowed, “Aw hell, what’s the harm in one more”

📓A lot of Sam’s plushies are girls, no one is sure why they just are

📓Lots of dog stuffed toys, he gets most of them from thrift stores they visit or small convenience stores as a treat

[hobiespick]

Heya! I was wondering if you got any headcanons for Sam Winchester x werewolf! Reader, except, reader can actually turn whenever she (or gn if you want) wants, and the only real thing a full moon does is force her to be in her werewolf form (aka force her to keep the wolf teeth and claws out for no reason)

The thing that should not be

Pairings : Sam Winchester x reader

a/n : FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HI, HELLO, IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG I SUCK SO BAD, IM SO SORRY. My requests aren't open (yet) but its not even your fault I should have 100% specified that, but this is my first ever ask and ur also one of my favourite moots and I didn't want to dissapoint so here are some fuckinf cute Sam x Werewolf!Reader. I felt the carnal need to write a metric fuckton of context before getting into the actual headcanons (which are very long I have no idea if they can be considered as hcs) so the reader gets beaten up by earth-shattering plot purposes :3. Sammy juicy headcanons start when you see the '🧿' emoji if you don't wanna read the context (melodramatic sigh). And yes the title of the fic is based on the metallica song :). as always, enjoy my shitty thoughts <3

Warnings: angst with comfort (no don't clap it's fine, omg ur makin me blush); guess who joined the cool kids club and uses "____." instead of "Y/n"; literally a flash of gore, shitty dad(s), fake death, mentions of suicide, Sam looks at you and goes DO YOU WANT M-; Dean being himself; reader is also a hunter and has been raised like that (fml); Dean makes a twillight refrence; reader is frankenstein coded in the most nuanced way, Mary Shelley please don't haunt me; Dean is very happy to have a bestfriend/sister :)

word count: 8,102

- Okay, so for starters, the fact that you aren't actually a monster (you don't get the urge to kill or wreak havoc) is actually a supernatural miracle.

Your parents haven't talked to you since you called them the night you were hunting a werewolf and told them, horror-struck between sniffles and voice cracks, that it bit you, and you’re going to turn, and you’re horrified, and you’re going to drive home to put a pistol in your father's hand and hopefully stop you from turning in the thing you shouldn't be.

Your father replied, after successfully not saying a word besides "Hey, kid-" before getting cut off by you and your hiccups. He sank his teeth into the inside of his cheek, enough to draw blood.

"You are not to come home; your mother won't bear to see you like this."

Your father objected before telling you you can finish the job by yourself; you always have.

He abruptly ended the phonecall like you weren't his daughter, more like an annoying salesman. You don't know what he'll say to your mother after that call; that was the hospital, and you tragically died? "Died a hero.." Your father would say when he described another hunter's tragic passing at the dinner table—paranormal tragic passing. So paranormal that your mother had knocked on wood and prayed it wouldn't get you or your family.

So you don't call, It's really me, dad. I'm fine, I figured it out by myself. How could you? after him suggesting it's better to kill yourself than take a shot at finding a solution together? You would rather have him believe you're dead. Or at least cry with you; it's okay, honey. come home; it'll be okay, spend the last days at home, please-

The last word you get from him is a text message you are too quick to open on your flip-phone to see the next day. When you rub at your eyebags after tracking down a witch, the witch. It was the second day when everything about you felt off; you were squemish, anxious, and haven't left your motel room all day. if you get this—the message read, "if you get this?!" if you get this, if you get this, if you get this—your brain repeats it over and over, taking the words apart and tattooing itself that phrase, because it held much more meaning to it than your father probably didn't intend; he would hear it if he read it before sending, you thought, that little 'if' haunting and tormenting like a damn demon. if you haven't already killed yourself; if you haven't already turned into something that took my daughter, my pride and joy, away from me; if you haven't already died–

- speaking to you like he's directly referring to the disease in your veins. Your brain moves on and reads the next ridiculous waste of your attention. I wanted you to know I told your mother that it was the hospital I was talking to yesterday, calling that you’re dead, house fire, so no remains to pick up—Damn, you know him or what? Even your fake death is stripped away from it's respect—"no remains to pick up"—like a toppled statue, a monument of what was once a hero (in dad's old-fashioned monster-hunting world), shattered and insignificant, no longer breathing or living, if you ever even had. Or a tree struck by lighting, again, "no remains to pick up" no meaningful remains or genuinely nothing, just a memory of another young hunter who died 'tragically'. You could imagine your tombstone with an even dumber epitaph to match it and an empty or nonexistent grave lying six feet underneath for closure. Your eyes move on, there will be a funeral with no grave, of course, I just wanted you to know that your mother and everyone else is devastated, we miss you, sugar. I love you, kid. Your father had overestimated your suicidal tendencies, and the way he didn't try to save his daughter in order to not go against the rules and possibilities of hunting only showed you how much he loves you.

So you track down the witch. You barely make it to her doorstep when she opens it with a too reassuring smile, saying your name and that she expected you, even going as far as offering you tea after opening the door and letting you in, to which you declined. You're not an idiot. But you do sit down, forced, when she, Willow Thorne, won't have you, a guest, standing up, a whole damn hunter being forced to sit down and accept being treated kindly like you deserve. When you walked in, the entire image of a satanic worshipper who sold her soul to demons and hexed everybody—that you betted all your life savings fitted the description of Willow shattered and laughed in your face.

Her home was filled with plants hanging and resting in every corner she could place; various crystals were sitting in cute porcelain plates like candy, candles of different colors on a bookshelf filled with books like The Language of Flowers, Astronomy for Beginners, and Sigils. Even more crystals, bigger and taller ones on a purple tablecloth. The house is adorned in shades of dark purple, violet, green, and warm colors. This home was a whimsigothic musem that would send your thirteen-year-old self into a shrieking, excited mess. Your parents never let you own crystals or a tarot deck; they were too afraid you'd turn darkside one way or another. well, mommy, daddy, if you could see me right now with lycanthrope blood pumping through my veins.

Willow Thorne is a wiccan type of witch; she does not receive her power from demons; she receives her magic from nature and probably practices her witchcraft the way she sees fit. This doesn't help build back the distrust you were trained to have in her. You flinch when you feel a tail curling around your bouncing leg; you glance down, and your eyes are met with a black cat's green ones—this must be her familiar—the little words on his purple collar reading 'Creek'. She gives you another flash of her warm smile and starts talking about her cat. This can't be real. Your every instinct screams that you should take her down or that she will take you down. Your options shrink the longer you stay. You keep a hand anxiously fiddling with your belt, thinking about the gun in your waistband. She's deceiving you with honeyed words and unassuming appearance; who the fuck knows, maybe the cat is manipulating you too. Throwing up would be the calmest reaction you could have right now, because the thoughts in your head started going at each other's throats and doubting in this situation could get you killed. Thoughts like, fuck her, her cozy house with purple witchy twitchy girl interior, and her affectionate black cat she mentioned she rescued when nobody would because of superstitions—you curse in your head, you're not actually upset at her although you do not let your guard down, you're upset at yourself for being so easily coaxed into trusting her, it's all too easy, and it is intimidating you.

You're pretty sure you're gonna rip your vocal cords out of frustration and an overall feeling of overwhelmingness; everything seems to piss you off today, even more than usual. How are you good?! All bright and beaming with nothing but positivity. You're not supposed to be good! I have believed all my life you aren't!..are you like me too? A thing that should not be? Before breaking down and crying about your situation, and if you did, she would make you that tea and rub your back with her hand that radiated ease and made you slump your shoulders with relief.

Before you get other fun thoughts like Am I on the wrong side of the war? You start discussing bussiness since you forgot that's what your here for. Even if your eyes water like a little kid after being scolded for something they didn't do, your voice is nowhere near close to sounding like one. You demand a cure, bargaining for a deal to stop the lycanthropy metamorphosis you feel taking over little by little and make you human again. If she can't, you have a gun with silver bullets in your trunk and your will written out, but by now it probably has no significance.

Much to your disappointment, she—Willow—insisted you called her, tells you she cannot take away your curse, but she can soothe it a little, keep it in a cage locked deep into your subconscious. In exchange, she could ask for fucking anything in the world, but she wants loyalty.

"Define, loyalty." You ask through gritted teeth, yeah, that will stop the tears, definitely, great intimidation skills, _____ .

"I'm talking about respect, mutual aid, when it all comes down for me, when I get threatened by a hunter, I want you to be there. I need you to have my back." She admitted, studying your eyes trying to reslove the conflict in them, anything that could give her hope. You couldn't explain this to anyone, ever, Yeah I almost turned into a werewolf once but my witch friend did a ritual on me, so i'm all good now.

Willow is now sitting on an ottoman facing her couch, where you're sitting. Her hands fidget with her bracelets until she clasps them together, and she is leaning towards you. Her gentle tone is imbued with gentle authority that commands her mutual respect without making her overbearing. Keeping steady eye contact, she is discussing serious matters with a serious tone like she should. You can't lie, it catches you off-guard, it herds you in the corner and softly shakes your shoulders, forcing you to listen.

You'd be every synonym in the dictionary for the word 'idiot' if you hadn't accepted this deal. You shake hands, and the warm smile she wears causes a domino effect, making you do the same, even if you had been crying.

It's a funky ritual. She makes you lay on the couch while she lights all sorts of candles; she closes the curtains even though it's already dark so light cannot come in. The only light present is the salt lamp in the far corner and the numeruous lighted candles. She even has to kick Creek out of the room, much to the cat's protests outside the door. They slowly come to a stop as he finds something that's more interesting than whatever ritual his owner is cooking up with a guest—that he feels drawn to for whatever reason. You feel nervous, and she feels nervous too, because you are. Willow reassures you and tells you that after it ends you will pass out for a while, but that's fine because she says you can spend the night if she isn't pushing it.

The celling becomes your newest fascination, and you study every small bump and gray spot in order to distract your mind from... well, thinking. Not for the ritual, but for reassurance, she lies and says you have to hold her hand. Her warm hand against yours seems to punch out of your lungs every doubt whether this will work or not and the sadness your father produced with an unfatherly amount of bluntness and cold parenting that was the verbal equivalent of stabbing your spine and twisting the knife, but you can't pull out the knife, well, you can try, but it will hurt even worse and it will infect spreading yellow or purple marks around it–. She—her hand—has the ability to make you breathe again without feeling like you have leg irons around your neck dragging it down and hands squashing your lungs to bits. She speaks incantations in what you know is latin and instructs you to close your eyes. You swear you hear a candle stop burning in the process—something you can't physically hear, but you had. You can make out a few words (your ears keep ringing and something is happening because you hear her voice; it's distorted and weird, but she told you, strictly, not to open your eyes, so you don't). Words like: lupus-wolf, tollere-take away? You're not sure on that one; that's what three straight days of crying might do to one, mutare- which means change. Okay, that was a nice distraction now what el–

You feel the imprint of a huge dog-like paw pressing into your Adam's apple and cutting off your breath. She obviously takes notice by the way you're writhing and choking and swatting away at nothing—something you're trying to fight even with closed eyes, but there is nothing there. Your palm doesn't make contact with anything. Quickly, Willow chants something you're too busy choking to catch. The pressure on your throat dissolves, and you can breathe again. She calms her own breath and squeezes your hand. When she doesn't feel you squeeze back, she remembers that you're supposed to pass out after the spell. Willow drapes a blanket on you and goes off to order something to eat. When she opens the living room door, Creek doesn't hesitate to run in and settle on your chest. The cat purrs as he patiently waits for you to wake up.

You wake up fifteen minutes later with the smell of food flooding your nostrils, stronger than it has ever been before. It's almost like it's sitting right under your nose. You open your eyes, and the smell has a color, and you can clearly see how it snakes its way in from the kitchen into the half-open door. Your nails feel heavier than usual. This is hopefully a fever dream. But the food isn't here, nor is Willow; you can hear her humming a song in the kitchen, Voodoo Chile by Jimi Hendrix.

The weight of the shadow on your chest brings you back to earth, and you run your hands through his black fur with closed eyes as your head falls back onto the couch. The feeling of fur on your fingertips feeding to your serotonin levels rising. Creek seems to know what it's like to be disowned by your own father and forced to have a fake death in order to 'die' in a way that won't make your mother think you were cursed, or worse, that the whole family is now. Creek notices you're awake and gets off you, but not before making biscuits.

"Thanks, Creek." You mumble before pushing yourself up in a sitting position with a groan.

You can feel the rich, velvety, dark green rug beneath your socks; you would have appreciated it properly if you could actually see the details woven into it. Your eyes keep focusing and unfocusing like they're getting adjusted, and the room doesn't seem so dark anymore. God, how long did you pass out? As you tried to gather your thoughts (if the spell was easy on you enough to actually leave some), memories of the ritual came flooding back—the chanting in latin, the flickering candle(s), the punching smell of herbs, the murder attempt from a wolf spirit/ghost?! who the hell knows anymore? Now you were wide awake, and everything felt different. If it weren't for the fucking ritual that was just performed on you, you would've blamed the faint ringing in your years, shitty eyesight, and banging headache on a terrible hangover or a cold so bad it would make your throat ache for the tea your mom would make you when your immune system failed you. She promised she would teach me how to make it. Your grief echoed to you.

You rub at your temples at thats when you notice why did your nails feel heavier than usual. You had fucking claws, well, not animal claws, but they are honorably elongated and sharper than they had ever been. As you looked up from your lap, your eyes fell on a mirror.

A tall mirror leaning on its back legs, with black edges and details on the rim, you would again appreciate if you had the ability to see a single thing in the distance.

Your eyes widened, mortified, seeing yourself. It looked like one of your parents's worst nightmares. Something out of a dream your mom would have—a nightmare so nasty and vivid she would be forced by her paranoia to get up and check that you're still in bed sleeping soundly.

Your eyes were no longer the familiar color you have seen in the mirror or in old photos of your family members you've grown to love. The shade wasn't even close to yours; crazy how one small change made such a big difference in your appearance. Your pupils were slitted vertically, shrinking only to dilate a little once again, getting adjusted. You slowly got up on foal legs and fell on your knees in front of the mirror. Even if you didn't think it was night because you weren't seeing darkness, the light of the moon shone down on the mirror and floor thanks to the now open curtains. That's when your vision stopped unfocusing and finally cleared.

You were now looking at yourself. It felt incredibly alien and familiar at the same time; you looked at yourself every day, whether it was the mirror in your bathroom at home, a crappy motel one that faced the bed (which you cover up with a scoff each time), or a reflection in the car of your vanity mirror checking yourself before going in a precinct, pretending to be a reporter (the things middle-aged pigs would confess to a doe-eyed girl from the press..).

You gently pulled the corner of your upper lip only to reveal your enlarged and sharpened front canines. Your hand fell and instead went to cover your mouth in order to muffle your sobs. You must have done a horrible job because the second you slapped the hand over your mouth, you heard Willlow gasp as if she felt it too.

She drops the food she was unpacking and runs in, taking a moment to calm her heaving chest in the doorway; her hands were holding it like an earthquake had shaked her up; even her round glasses had slipped and rested on the tip of her nose.

"_______, you woke up!" she exclaims cheerfully. "I was just—how do you fee-?"

She kept stuttering and cutting herself off. Willow didn't need to say anything else; she saw the tears welling up in your eyes and felt the same shock you did from the kitchen.

🧿🧿🧿- later on, you have to bump into the Winchesters one way or another

- and it's exactly on a full moon when this time the ball isn't in your court and you don't get to decide whether you turn or not.

- your claws are sharp, your eyes have changed their original color completely with your pupils vertically slit, and your teeth (conveniently) remain the same; only a few of your front canines are enlarged and sharpened.

- as for senses, it's downright spectacular.

- you can hear deer stepping on tree branches, foxes running, and owls hooting when you're driving by the forest

- you smell how many people are in a room

- you have night vision (yes, your eyes to the flashy thingamajiggy when someone blinds you with their flashlight).

- as a hunter, you already know that your claws and fangs can rip out a human heart.

- ironically, as this whole situation is, you hunt alone on the principle that you don't long for companionship as some lycanthropes do.

- you've turned into a literal killing machine with no instinct to kill, so hunting with others is off the table since at the first sign of a threat (they think you are one, but you really aren't), a hunter exterminates.

- you meet the Winchesters on a ghoul hunt

- you have taken the case before them, but when you couldn't get anywhere with identifying whatever evil being was tormenting the locals with their mere presence, you thought about ditching it since it doesn't look like your type of thing and took the consideration that maybe humans were fucking around this time.

- so when you heard the FBI are in town investigating the case (detective Page and Plant), you placed that town in your rear view mirror; they got it covered..right?

- but something didn't feel right- it wasn't the shame of leaving a case with your tail between your legs (pun intended) with the weak motive, 'Maybe humans are really fucking around this time.'

- something wasn't right, so even if you were tired, you abruptly stopped the car and went over your research spread out on the flat of your closed trunk

- the slits of your eyes dance over the words on your laptop, your papers, and an old lore book you fought tooth and nail for. When you realized it's a ghoul you're dealing with, you turned the car around and went over every speed limit like hellhounds were scratching at your tires. It was your job to not let anybody else get hurt or someone else's grave be violated

- as the light of the moon shined down on you and your wild eyes looked back at you from the rear view mirror, you knew you couldn't have anyone see you, you had to be invisible

- *time skip* (as much as it pains me 'cause i am a sucker for details :))- you swoop in time to save the Winchesters

- and if they weren't tied up, they would've started fighting you too, because why was there a whole ass werewolf fist fighting a ghoul?? John trained them like Spartan warriors, but nothing prepared them for something like this.

- so they sit there like:??????

- they watch you take out a fucking ghoul all by yourself

- the head of the ghoul's person they're impersonating rolls onto the floor. You have to remind yourself it's not a real person; it's an evil spirit who kills to feed

- by the time you wipe the blood off your face, smearing it a bit in the process, and cut the ties holding the hunters loose, Sam is unnable to look away from your slit eyes adorned by a strange color that strangely suits you

- literally hearts in his fawn brown eyes like you still don't have blood on your face and you aren't trying to catch your breath; also, you took a nasty punch to your cheek, and he's pretty sure it's gonna leave a bruise, but he totally doesn't care, why? why do you ask?

- by the way Sam is scrunitizing you, and oh yeah, Sam is scrunitizing you, you're sure you're gonna have to ditch since you've been in this situation before and you know how it always ends

- there was no 'explaining yourself' to hunters when they saw you under the full moon or when they saw you change because you had to.

Before you can even open your mouth they have their methaphorical pitchforks sharpened and torches lit up, prepared to slaughter you, and if you're honest, you can't even blame them for it because you would've done the same.

- Dean rubs his wrist with his right hand; the imprint of the rope is still fresh on his skin like a tattoo. Sam focuses on not choking when you catch him staring.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean thinks out loud. You take a big lungs-exploding sigh and give a shot at introducing yourself since they seem more civilized than most hunters are

- Sam geeks out about you

He doesn't question you because he is suspicious (he has the right to be but surprisingly isn't). He has to feed his noisy, information-hungry brain or he will spontaneously combust

- "Are your senses even more enhanced during the full moon, or are they the same?"

- "Can you smell when somebody is afraid? Like the hormones from their pores?"

- "Is it annoying to always have super hearing? Like has it ever caused you to be..I don't know.. Anxious? It did?" He mourns over you, trying to imagine himself in your situation but possibly can't.

- "I'm really sorry you had to go through a whole..change all by yourself, but it just shows how strong you are, some don't even make it 'til the end."

- After you were done explaining to Sam (to which he gladly sat himself down and listened) how sometimes you genuinely consider you're inevitably going to become what you hunt and how in the beginning you and your senses have butted heads, how you had no idea how to go through it without having panic attacks because the click of a doorknob was sensitive to your hearing like a veteran was scared of fireworks, how you accidentally ripped a motel door off its hinges, a result of you being slightly irritated, still getting acoustumed to your abilities. Dean would go.

"..Do dog whistles work on y–" Before getting an elbow in the ribs by a glaring Sam.

- more shit Dean would ask you for the sake of his own little curiosity

- "Is 'bitch' even more offensive now?"

- "Who do you think would win in a fight? You or Jacob Black?"

- "What do I smell like? Y'know, since you can pick up on scents and alldat."

- Dean calls you Cujo

- It's the one nickname you can get behind, asking him what he thought about the book, and he's like, "Oh, I watched the movie, but i know a little. Sammy used to rattle on and on about his books when he was younger."

- if you think about it, an alais doesn't sound so bad in theory or practice while hunting.

- it's secretive, the boys don't need to divulge your real name, and it's actually high-key kickass (I literally watched Cujo just so I know what I'm talking about, a.k.a. the second reason why it took a millenium and a half for me to post these; the first reason is that i suck)

- Dean is thrilled to get to call you that- he gets this fucking smirk, like a dad about to drop the worst joke ever made on everyone, you and Sam brace yourselves for what's coming with matching eyerolls-

"Let's fuck em' up, Cujo."

- "Cujo, dude, you're just itching to raise a little hell right now, aren't you?"

- "Uh- a bacon cheeseburger, soda, yo, Cujo whaddya want? My treat >:]."

- "Cujo, put on that song you were listening to; I had it in my head the entire hunt." (I didn't mention the genre or artist bc I like to imagine Dean listening to everyone's fav category; ex. I imagine Dean screaming bikini kill lyrics whenever i'm sad)

- if you thought the 'canine/wolf' teasing stopped here, you're so painfully wrong

- Dean made you a mixtape, because that's his love language apparently, with only songs that are about werewolves

- I feel like it took him a longer time to find a suitable title than the songs themselves

- he has all of the possible picks on a piece of paper that stays in the pocket of his fifty pound leather jacket.

- the titles are: Songs to transform into; The howlin' hits; Songs that will make you wag your tail—that one is crossed out because he knows you will make him eat the tape if he does settle on it; Love at first bite; and finally the one he settled for is Songs you can sink your teeth into. Dean smiled at his work, it didn't feel like a prank anymore it was more like a gift and he didn't feel any ugly emotion or insecurity try to pull him back into not getting attached to you.

The final touch was a note saying

"Hey, Cujo, thought you might want these howlin' hits whenever you need to tune the world out.

P.S. : Sam told me to add one of the songs, it's that punk stuff you like - Dean"

- The songs he prudently picked out are these : Of Wolf and Man by Metallica; Bark at the Moon by Ozzy Osbourne; I Was A Teenage Werewolf by The Cramps; Wolf Moon by Type O Negative; Witch Wolf by STYX; Run with the Wolf by Rainbow; Lycanthropy by G.B.H and others.

- you accidentally made a kid cry once- a ball was literally flying towards you and you caught it just in time, thanks to your reflexes

- instinctively, you turned around in time and caught the ball as your claws grew and sank into the inanimate object

- it's all "Nice relfexes, _____" praise from Dean and proud and shy smiles from Sam until the owner of the ball starts sobbing in front of you

- it's a kid, a boy with red hair, no older than six years of age

- but we all know Dean's charm is basically made for this

- so he handles both the kid and his mom (flirting with a milf all day, poor Dean)

- you keep apologizing to the kid and the mom, but Dean just waves you off; you don't understand his generosity until Sam tells you that you accidentally secured Dean's hookup for tonight.

- Since Dean is not coming, not until early morning, nor is he there to call you and Sam 'dorks', you and his younger brother take advantage of it.

- you guys have a movie night with the most random movies ever

- it is chaotic

- from rom-coms you switch to a world war II documentary, then you watch re-runs of House MD on tv.

- Dean stumbles in at like five something a.m. and takes a picture of you and Sam snuggling under a blanket while the tv light casts shadows of orange and cold colors on your defenseless expressions.

- but can somebody actually blame you? Or Sam, for that matter?

- honorably want to mention your body heat is also enhanced

- You and Sam were sitting with your sides pressed into each other

- you were radiating pure furnace body heat, how could he not be sleepy??

- but that's not the only reason Sam knocks out so heavily

- it's you he's sitting down with (relaxing for once in his life) watching a ridiculous episode of House with thirteen ads rolling every ten minutes accompanied by lazy talking as if you're not debating books only you and morally grey forty-year-olds read (where that Kansas drawl of his is much more audible and pretty), after a marathon of fatally random movies

- younger Sam who had trouble going to sleep/getting some shut-eye because Dean and John are out late on a hunt.

- Sam especially couldn't fall asleep because Dean wasn't there

- it was a different story when Dean was at the age where he couldn't hunt but he could use a pistol and take care of his little brother

- both of them in a relatively warm motel room, alone (since John fucked off to god-knows-where, to hunt a monster they are never to breathe in the direction of as a conversation subject.)

- little Sammy (age where he believed nothing could beat his older brother) could peacefully fall asleep knowing Dean stays up and watches over him like a hawke, reading comic books by the tv light

- where little Dean keeps chanting in his head what Sammy is supposed to do after eating his dinner.

- Watch tv or look at the comic with me (Sammy can't read yet), brush his teeth, then tuck him in bed.

- now pre-teen Sam can hardly sleep

- he is plagued/tormented by flashing images his overthinking big brain mades of a thousand situations where his family got hurt, if not even killed

- Sam's grip on the shotgun is shaking; it shakes even harder when John's bark booms over his shoulder, right into his ear.

- "Sammy, dammit, what are you going to do when a demon breaks through the door and me and your brother aren't there to protect you?!"

- but Sam isn't twelve anymore

- he's a responsible adult

- snuggled beside you and denying any eepy allegations you decide to accuse him of

- so, the heat you contribute, the soft speaking on the tv, the darkness of the room, you being there is enough to lull Sam to sleep

- studies show you feel sleepy around the people you trust ;)

- the position you two fell asleep in cannot be described in any other word than childish

- somehow you would catch two kids, sleeping over at one of the other's houses, knocked out, and snoring in the same bed after watching a horror movie

- on one of the two queens the motel room contributes (the one closest to the tv) you and Sam have made this fluffy nest full of pillows, a huge blanket, plus a random quilt Bobby pulled out of thin air and gave it to you when he heard you complaining about the petal-thin blankets motels have during cold ass weather.

- When you both lied down on the bed with your legs greedily streched out, backs pressed against the headboard, and your head is resting on the wall while Sam, magically, was still able to hold his up after the very long day all of you endured. You predicted one of you wouldn't survive being in each other's presence and make it out not asleep, and god, you hoped it was you.

- Sam's breathing slows down after a while of comfortable silence, and you’re sure he's dying until you spare one quick glance and see him, downright snoozing with his lips parted without a care in the world, ghosts and eerie phenomenons weren't bothering or needing him now.

- during all of the movies and documentary and fuckin lazy intellectual commentary nobody else would have the patience to discuss with you or Sam, he somehow migrated on the bed/nest with his side flush against yours, like a magnet to another; it was inevitable not to stick together, literally.

- your shoulder was now pressed into his forearm, your head no longer resting uncomfortably, and his temple is resting on the top of your head.

- but (unfortunately) you weren't hugging or anything- like a mirror or a copycat, Sam has his arms crossed, just like you, so maybe that's why you didn't wake up full on cuddling, that does sound good though your brain mourns

- When you do wake up, the only slight change you notice is that you're sleeping on your side..so is Sam. You're facing Sam's neck and chin, and up close and personal, you can actually count the too-sexy amount of moles he modestly posesses. His arm serves the role of a pillow underneath his head, and the other is resting with his palm down facing the mattress.

- with Sam taking up the entire attention of your senses, it takes an emmbarassing while for you to hear the shower running, Dean; did he see you both like this? Was he going to mention it? Your gut fills with a small dose of embarrassement, preparing you for what's yet to come, and it protests at that.

- much displeasure from your senses to your brain and your heart that wanted to breathe Sam in more as he (hopefully) breathes you out, you turn on your other side, unconsciously careful not to disturb Clifford over here, and you try to determine what time it is from your surroundings alone.

- the light blue sneaking its way through the dark closed curtains and the slight chill in the air points all arrows to seven or eight in the morning, you could go back to sleep.

- Dean wasn't just feeling gracious; he didn't and wasn't even planning on sparing you or Sam

- that day, when he separately gets the both of you alone, he has the exact same conversation with different but not so different people.

-"You should've seen the two of you this morning when I came in, two kittens snoring together, it was fuckin' adorable." Dean teased–

—Monday, 13:34 p.m. — as he tossed his clothes into one of the laundromat's washing machines, making Sam paralyze in his seat as his fingers started fidgeting with the edges of his hoodie.

"You did?.." He inquires, not knowing what exactly Dean saw just this morning. Sam only woke up a little after you went back to sleep. He swore his cheek must have burned a hole through the pillow with how hard he was blushing. You were so close. There was a good distance between the edge of the bed and you. So your back was flush against his chest. If you're wondering where his arm went, it was around your waist. Sam—your own personal seatbelt. He probably thinks it's his fault too. Dean never ceased to describe Sam as a 'cuddlebug'.

"Uh-huh" Dean hums a confirmation, acting casual, scarily casual. Sam feels the teasing in Dean's tone; it's there, but Dean is not fully teasing yet, like he wants Sam to confess something first after boiling in his embarrassement for long enough.

—Monday, 20:02 p.m. — as he pulled the Impala into the driveway of a fast-food place you were so invested in you even forgot the name of; you froze and looked at him, searching for any emotion that might give him away, but Dean was a brick wall, a slight very Dean siginificant parted lips smirk paired with squinted eyes over the wheel, carefully driving into the driveway. Even the car seemed to betray you in your moment of weakness because you swear the volume is lower than it was a few seconds ago. Ozzy Osbourne's laugh can still be heard from the speakers, even if it's barely audible over your racing thoughts or your hearing trying its hardest to pick up on Dean's thoughts. The rythym of the drums seems to sync up with your heartbeat, or the other way around, you're not sure. Over every little sound, there still seems to be a little silence to fit in. You swallow a lump in your throat.

"..We had a movie night, we just fell asleep like that, that's all." You mumble, and Dean starts to feel a little bad for letting you be a victim to his spotlight-teasing and giving you no shade to reprieve to or show his undying approval.

Somehow, you still worry if Dean believes you have ruined the dynamic, and now he's cornering you to tell you to stop it or something (overthinking anxiety worms are eating away at your critical thinking skills). You just worry about what he thinks of this. You still worry about the Dean who doesn't correct random people on cases who mistake you and Sam for a couple; the Dean who just has to leave some arsenal or luggage in the front, just so you are forced to share the backseat with Sam; the Dean who always has to group you and Sam in a category when he teases you both (Geeks, nerds, smartasses, etc.). Cupid works hard, but Dean Winchester works harder.

"Hey-, Cuj- Doll." Dean sputters, switching glances between you and the wheel.

This didn't go as he planned it would, and now he is facing the consequences. The way you shrink in your seat and the way you avoid catching his eye makes Dean feel like a douchebag. If he didn't know any better he would thinks he is, but then you would actually be able to read him like a book and tell him otherwise. You hear the desperation in his voice; your candle of hope comes back to life and lights up. Your head turns to look at him with pleading eyes. Please don't be angry, please don't kick me to the curb, let me stay in the backseat a little more. Dean lets out a shaky exhale that turns into a laugh; he runs a hand down his face. You've watched him do that every time he got jumpscared by the monthly spirit with unfinished business. It was something you imagined Dean picked up from John, the picture in your head so clear (at least from the pictures you saw)— a tired dad in an old squeaky motel chair with a whiskey glass in his hand doing the same motion Dean was doing right now. Dean would mimic his father's gestures to try to look more like him; he didn't have his brunette curly hair, his dark brown eyes, Sam did.

Dean never had his voice either; he only perfected his bark to match his dad's. Sam hated the way his reflection resembled his father, Dean was either jealous of him for it or couldn't wrap his head around as to why his brother hated being their dad, probably the latter. Dad, at least in Dean's eyes, was a hero, a figure to be admired and emulated. But Sam? He didn't even have to try. Sam and John were so alike that they clashed constantly like two stubborn stags locking antlers in a duel.

"..Dean?" You call him out; you had no idea what was going on in his head; it would be pretty damn nice if you could know. Dean shots his head up at the mention of his name.

"Yeah?—sorry, I just, you and Sam are just so—" He sighs. "it's about time you two crazy kids broke that touch barrier." He guffaws, slowly pulling up to the ordering kiosk.

A new song starts playing on Dean's "hot summa' nights driving" mixtape, Emmit Remmus by The Red Hot Chili Peppers, he added it when Sam said that's one of his favorites.

- do I need to talk about how much of an immense help you have been on hunts?

- you don't need to help out on every hunt despite Sam's disappointment and Dean's kid-like joy to have their friend help them out who is a professional/werewolf/hunter/geek, who kind of gets his references?? But you are geniunely so good it's funny to have the boys call you up and be like "..so we need help". They're happy you'll show up but there is still that lick of shame that taunts the Winchesters whenever they are forced to call for aid.

- this one time, you wanted to hug them after not seeing them for two weeks, and when you went to attack Sam, you heard his bones crack.

- your strength still surprises you and knocks other people off their feet

- it was so loud (atleast for you), you were sure you broke something

- Sam did nothing but give you his (killer) dimply smile and reassure you didn't do anything (even if he slightly grunted); while Dean whined like a kid saying (lying) he doesn't want a hug (you coaxed him into it eventually)

- Sam feels like he's not allowed to call you by your nickname, like he fears it's Dean's thing and not his

- so when he finally puts on his big boy pants, he's like, "Uhh–Cujo- 🧍‍♂️so get this.."

- all red and shy, trying to act casual, as if he doesn't wonder about the reaction you might have if he calls you other nicknames, like honey, sweetheart, even baby, or if he had the excuse to hold your hand, how would you hold it? Fingers interlocked or palms flat?

- Sam would also love to just marvel at your slit eyes; if he could he would take a picture and put it in his wallet; don't get me wrong if he had one where you were normal, he would cherish it just as much.

- Sam thinks your nickname is actually really cool (probably because it's a Stephen King reference, nerd), and you take that as a compliment. Sam is hard to entertain or please by his brother's antics.

- But he prefers saying your name

- there's something so intimate about the syllables rolling off his tongue so easily

- "_____, Are you okay? What is it? The soundproof earmuffs? I'll go get them." When everything, and I mean when every sound is just too much.

- Sam got them for you; he couldn't handle seeing you wince one more time whenever a car with a bad engine would pass by the motel (during a stressful hunt); its tires squealing under the concrete, making a faint sound for the boys, but for you so much louder.

- you know how pathethic it is to be affected by such small things when you're blessed with such powers? How can you call yourself a hunter when decibels, frequencies, and fucking tire squeals make you their bitch? You wish you could train yourself in a way that would make you less sensitive to certain sounds. It just adds to the reasons why hunters have the excuse or classify you as "the frail one" not only because you're a girl. When you used to hunt with your dad and sometimes mom, the amount of dog-shit comments from other hunters who had sons, were nothing but mysogynistic, curlish, and ruthless. "Are you sure the riffle isn't too heavy?", "Does she even know how to kill this thing?", "She's going to drag us down, do you want us to die?"— the type of comments that would make your dad shoot daggers into them, defend you "She's a goddamn ______, what do you think?", and whisper into your ear "Show em' what you're made of." and you would (stubbornly) listen to his advice to the damn letter after you almost mouthed them off.

Your dad believed in "Actions are sometimes louder than words." and all that adult crap, you were not as zen.

Your mom actually encouraged the sarcasm you have replied with in the past. The funniest memory your mother can recall is a story she tells at every gathering and every chance she gets to everyone, she praised you like crazy. When another hunter's son had the nerve to fuck with a twelve-year-old you. "Aren't you afraid of breaking a nail out there?" The boy sneered, puffing out his chest like a peacock. You stared at him with pure disbelief. "The only way I'm breaking a nail tonight is by kicking your ass, you cocky brainless jerk." You spat back, your mother and father were there and so was the boy's father; the gravity of the situation was on your shoulders, and their stares felt even heavier in comparison; intimidating him was 100% on the table. You felt like everyone had the same exact thought occuring them, an unspoken demand passed everyone there, even you: Do something. And you did. Your mother's jaw went slack; she doubled over, gripping whatever surface was near her and she started to chortle, with her shoulders shaking like never before. Your father was holding in a chuckle while massaging the bridge of his nose.

- Sam has to disagree with you whenever you complain about how your senses make you look or about the way you underestimate yourself. "What?! You can't be serious. _____, It doesn't mean you're weak. In fact, it makes you even more interesting. Everyone has an Achilles heel; yours is stronger because you're an amazing hunter who figured a way out. It makes you even stronger, I have no idea how you deal with this crap! Dean and I would've gone insane if we were in your shoes for more than a day."

- he is also forcing back his infamous (spectacular) bitchface

- he doesn't 'hold back' actually

- he geniunely cannot glare at you, not when you're like this. He can make a few exceptions, like when you join in Dean's teasing/joking (the silly rambunctious energy Dean carries around had, unfortunately, contiminated you or awakened yours)

- or when you start teasing Sam yourself, he shoots you a glare that classifies as nothing but hot (in your book at least), the kind of Sam glare that makes you flush knowing he doesn't mean it at all.

- Dean making you those fake ass I.D's like "Joan Jett", "Stevie Nicks", "Kathleen Hanna" and when you asked him to make more subtle ones he was like, bet. "Kelly Hammer", "Diana Bowie", "Laura Ulrich".

a/n: I wanted to apologize again for taking so long and for the unnecessary amount of context that literally nobody asked for. Uhh yeah and feedback would be very much appreciated<3, sava out *mic drop*

[deepdisireslonging]

No Cum November Part 9: On the King’s Blade

There’s only a few days left, but Sam has something especially dangerous and delightful planned for the Reader.

Pairing: King of Hell!Sam x Reader

Warnings/Promises: rough SMUT, bondage, knife/blood play, toys + anal (reader receiving), light humiliation (servant/slave themed)

Word Count: 1380

Note: I fully accept and enable the headcanon that of the two brothers, Sam is the one with the sex dungeon in the bunker. This fic is the most intense of the bunch. Happy sinning… I mean, happy reading!

Part 8: Exorcism Play (with Demon!Dean)

You awoke to the sensation of being watched.

The dimmed light of the bunker “dungeon” sent a zing of worry through you. But then you saw Sam. Saw the way his shoulders were broadly rolled back. Saw the assuredness in his eyes. And you saw the knife in his hands.

“Good morning,” he rumbled, slightly dipping his head.

“Mornin’,” you tried to say. But the ball gag prevented you. Just as the ropes tying you to the sawhorse stomach-down prevented you from struggling. It was padded and flat under your torso, but pointed under your hips, giving you a sharp angle to hump against. And there was something else, another toy, that you were sure would be a future source of torture.

Sam kneeled, bringing you face to face. “Is this going to be okay? We can play a different way if the ropes are too much.”

You shook your head. Already you could feel your arousal dripping.

“Good.” He kissed your forehead. While his lips were still in contact with your skin, the cold surface of the blade touched your collarbone. “Deep breath,” he said. You inhaled, and he dragged the blade through your skin, taking no more than a paper-cut’s drop of blood.

“You’ve been so good,” he hummed, licking at the blood. Stepping back, Sam laid the knife on your spine and began to massage your shoulders. “Being our good little sacrifice, such perfect bait. But not once have you bled for us, Y/N.” He kissed the nape of your neck. “I’ve been hungry for you. Like I haven’t hungered in a long time.”

You gasped as he took the knife, trailing the tip up and down your spine.

“Maybe I should carve my mark into your skin. And have Dean do it too. Our initials carved into you like in the Impala. Our favorite rides.” He pressed the blade harder against your skin, still short of breaking it. Instead, he nipped the middle place between your shoulder blades. He bit down, first to bruise and bring your blood to the surface. Then again to bring your blood into the air. He sucked, making your back arch away from him. He followed. His large, warm hand pressed against your lower back, pressing you further onto the sawhorse.

He grinned against your skin as you whined. “Poor baby. So needy.” Sam dug his fingers into your hair. “We’ve really strung you out, my brother and I. How else could we get away with tying you up in so many different ways? Tying you down, feasting on you… and all the while you’re nothing more than a channel for our pleasure.” He tightened his grip, giving your hair a sharp tug. “You love it. You love being our toy. You love being my little pleasure servant.”

Another zing shot up your spine. Similar to the fear when you saw Dean’s demon contacts a few days ago. Sam had only called you that when-

“You gonna be a good pleasure puppet, a good girl for your King?”

Your eyes rolled back as he tapped the gemmed plug in your ass.

“Look at you. I’ve barely started and you’re nothing more than a toy on a string. Let’s see how you react on my cock.”

He massaged your hips. His thumbs ran up and down on either side of your spine. What would have usually been a relaxing massage, rocked you back and forth on your perch. And when Sam stood behind you, each draw back pulled your ass into his crotch, where your gemmed toy bumped into his bulge. You wished you could see him. Because the way his belt buckle jingled made your body shiver with goose bumps. He tapped his cock on your ass cheek. It teased with how hot it was for you even against your own flushed skin. He began to tap against the jewel faster, harder. Pressing it to send the tear-drop shaped end deeper into your ass. Then he began to tug. And push. With each pass, he pulled out more of the toy until its vacancy left you gaping. Sam dipped his thumb inside. He hummed, impressed that you had taken a toy that gaped you wider than his finger.

Without warning, he quickly began to fill you. Each inch was a breathtaking surprise. Even with your prep. He leaned over you, breathing heavily, when he was fully seated. The pressure bore you onto the sawhorse, making you clench. Sam nipped at the base of your neck.

“Doing so good for me, baby. “ He inhaled. Then the cold blade ran down your spine.

The first cut was nothing more than a nick. But it made you writhe all the same. Sam refused to move. Each following cut, single short lines under your shoulder blades, was all you received. It made you twist and hiss. Made you hump against your perch and back into Sam’s stance. The placement of the cuts felt like he had a purpose. Like he was carving abstract wings into your back. A divine toy for the King of Hell to use and abuse. You could feel your blood beginning to trickle down your ribs in tiny droplets.

Despite the minimal loss of blood, between the scene and your soaring arousal, your head felt floaty. Sam’s words rang loud and clear. And you could definitely feel him. He was all you could hear or feel.

“Would be a shame if you bled out just a few days before we’d let you cum. Wouldn’t it?”

You startled awake through your headiness.

Sam leaned down, impaling you while he licked at your wounds. “I can never get enough of you. I thought, by denying you orgasms, that I’d finally be able to take everything from you that I needed. Without having to warm you up every time.” He clawed his fingernails into your ass before slapping in the same spot. “But it’s just made me crave more. Made me want to demand more. You don’t mind, do you? My perfect, obedient slave? Slave to your neediness. Slave to any pleasure I give you.”

He began to thrust, making you cry out through the gag. With each thrust, making both of you groan and whine with need, he continued to praise you. But with words that made you flush with how easy you were. How easily he manipulated your body and your mind to only feel and need him for your every second. The pleasure-pain of your perch was the only thing keeping you from falling to pieces.

Sam’s pace quickened as he drew close to release. “Are you going to let me fill you up? Not that you have a choice, really. Maybe I could convince Dean to keep you this way. Always on edge. Always dripping for us. Use it to train you to almost cum just by fucking your ass, or your mouth, or massaging your breasts. But never letting you cum. You would be my pleasure slave forever.” He stopped thrusting, making you whimper. “No, Dean likes to see you cum. Wants to see it soon. But after that- who knows.”

The knife clattered to the floor. Sam chased his release, buzzing with the mere thought of keeping you like this for an indefinite amount of time. He watched the thin cuts he’d made in your skin bead with your life force as his movements shook you. Growing more desperate, he lifted you by your hips for a better angle of you on his cock. It removed you from the peak that had been bringing you pleasure. As he finally spilled into you with a roar, you clawed at the air with another stolen release.

Soon, the ropes dropped from your arms. Your lower back was massaged from laying down for so long. And your cuts and the bite mark were tended to by Sam’s soft touch. All the while, he murmured praise and affection, without the Kingly pet-names. He used your name, giving your skin a different layer of shiver with the affection he used in his voice. When you were clean and dressed your comfiest pajamas, he laid you in his bed and hugged you tight.

You fell asleep in his arms, dreaming of being his pleasure slave forever.

*** Part 10: Good Vibrations

Series Masterlist

[bibuckleykinard]

PLEASE TELL ME MORE

Honestly Kayla, finding this in my inbox is the highlight of my week, one of my favourite blogs on here @nilefreemans

I honestly have so many thoughts about bucktommy overall but tommy kinard is such an enigma in many ways and it’s kind of like sudoku where it’s a fun puzzle to play around with headcanons based on intentional and unintentional canon information and i have so many thoughts whenever i see gifs

cause like yeah it’s very easy to just be like yeah i’ve seen pics of lou with earrings but choosing to interpret it as an intentional character element adds so much to tommy’s character

cause yeah ear piercings are way less gendered now but i know i certainly grew up hearing so many gendered rules about who could or couldn’t get their ears pieced and the “gay earring”, and i imagine that would have been so much more amplified for Tommy, just the layers of pressure and closeting he is seemingly under prior to chimney begins— which makes the pierced ears even more interesting because jt means in universe that there was some point in time that tommy felt like he could step out of those confines and take what looks like this tiny little step but in reality is profound for him but only temporarily since we don’t see him wear them even outside of work iirc.

and i’m just fascinated by these little pockets of liberation for characters like tommy —like for ref. I watched spn and one of my favourite fic tropes is Stanford Era Dean where for a brief moment he doesn’t have to be hunter nobody is perceiving him and he gets to just be himself a queer man— which just feels very Tommy

like i don’t have hard or fast ideas and tommy doesn’t seems like the most traditionally impulsive (like buck) but more of a measured impulsivity where maybe he doesn’t seek things out but he’ll eagerly engage when it’s there- i mean see every time chimney has ‘dragged’ him into things/information out of him

So while I could easily see it being a throwaway line of like “oh yeah I forget about em, I got them when I lost a bet” or as a more active rebellious move of like hey I can't do something grander but I can do this and the kind of people who would see this as gay are the people I'm looking to spite right now

But my personal favourite is (again a lot of this is me just wanting an version of the stanford era dean segment of A Thousand Lives fic but Tommy pre-buck) I really enjoyed the idea that Tommy got his ears pieced because he wanted to just sincerely, even more so if in a bitter sweet way it’s in this blip of tommy’s life prior to coming out when he’s out to himself and dating men, going to queer spaces etc. and one of them is some queer man with the patience of a saint who one evening in a moment of calm intimacy probably brushing their hands through tommy’s hair and when noticing his ears ask tommy if he’s ever thought about getting them pierced- and at this window of post army and either pre LAFD entirely or just pre-buck 118- he has just enough courage to say yes and agree to getting them pierced, and like eventually this partner would somehow convince him to do some level of gender bending expression or drag like a Halloween costume (like please can somebody draw Tommy doing rock horror) and then bittersweet it’d probably link back to tommy being just not being ready for or in the right environment to be really fully out and a mutual break out as the other guy looking for a more visible relationship

i really wasn’t expecting this to be this long i had to fully delete a tangent i had about my thoughts on tommy and love actually but that’s for a different post lmao, again really honoured that you enjoyed my rambly tags enough to want to hear more, i wish i wrote fic so i could put these ideas together better but at least it’s there

[pinkiebieberpie]

Ik your probably getting sick of all the Dean requests so please take your time with this what about in general cuddling hcs with him

i'm not!! but it may take some time to do all of them, be patient with me guys, ily 😭😭🩷

CUDDLING WITH DEAN WINCHESTER HEADCANONS

first of all, he loves touching you, hugging you, cuddling with you,

he would touch your leg when you are driving, he would hug you from the back all the time, but cuddling??? there's more to that,

he wants to keep you safe, make me feel protected,

he holds you so close and so tight 🥺

"i love you so much" and other soft whispers right into your ear,

his!! hands!! under!! your!! shirt!!

"i like how warm your skin is, baby"

forehead kisses!!

he loves drawing different things on your back when he is cuddling with you, even a simple heart or just random lines, it's relaxing for both of you;

supernatural masterlist

[heademptyonlychaos]

A lot of my headcanons/ships are less common, and I want there to be art for them so: