#cas: maybe you should.....suck my dick

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XXI. “belonging”

parts: previous / next

plot: somehow, you always find your way back home. Batman gets an intriguing lead on John Doe.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, dead body, cancer, confrontation, depression

words: 3.2k

Tears studded your cheeks as you vented to Mar about the morning's happenings. She'd never liked Dr. Vry, and at some point the conversation had exploded into a rant about the subpar character of the woman. "Remember when she accidentally input my A as a C and told me 'fate' must have guided her grade input? Then didn't fucking change it because of fucking, written in the stars bullshit? Fucking tanked my GPA."

"I just don't get it. The email said nothing about him, she said nothing about reporting on him besides being excited he would be there." You collapsed flat on your back in a starfish pose. "It was like she expected me to be starstruck by him or something. Like that was the only course of action." Like everyone else seems to be. The world caters to flashy, superficial things.

"Fuck her! You don't need her!"

You stared at her blankly for a moment. "Except for my housing, my food, my plane tickets back home?"

"How much an hour is it? Like $15?"

"$43."

"Oh fuck, in this economy you should've said you'd suck his dick, too."

Maybe you were spending a little too much time with her. "I feel like alluding to me doing anything with that man should be a crime." You flopped back on your bed and checked the time--it was barely past noon. You hadn't even managed to be at the job until the afternoon... shame threatened to cocoon you faced with such obvious failure. At this point you remembered the check Dr. Vry had sent would arrive today, and a few minutes later you sat inputting the code you'd been mailed to your digital check.

You spent the next twenty minutes listening to Mar continue to rant while you ordered some groceries. By that point she'd gotten a text from one of her friends for their Friday night bar hangout and had dismissed herself, leaving you tethered to your house as you waited to stock your fridge. You watched out the window as she got into an Uber, and after she was gone for sure, and just as the check deposited, you called your mom. Moreso even than the likely imminent firing, the stress of her health threatened to spiral you off the deep end. She picked up on the third ring. She sounded tired.

"Hey, hun." She cleared her throat, then yawned. You heard a small buzzing sound in the background, then heard a small meow. Another night he spent purring and cuddling her. Thanks, Walter. God, you were so glad she had him. "Everything alright? The photos you sent of your apartment were really good, I showed them to Debbie and she couldn't believe it! 'In GOTHAM?' is what she told me!"

To tell or not to tell about the troubles this week held? She yawned again. Not the time. "You sound tired." Your grip tightened around the phone.

She sighed. "My doctors moved my appointment to six thirty in the morning, can you believe that?" She tsk-d.

"How'd the appointment go?"

"Oh just fine. I had to sign a bunch of paperwork and talk to practically everyone in the place." She sounded bored and vaguely annoyed, which she hadn't been before. Irritability a potential side effect?

"Did the shot hurt?" Small talk, but what else was there to discuss? Your likely firing?

"Nope." She began cooing to Walter, who became exponentially louder with his purr.

"How's your arm? Any side effects yet?" God, why did things feel so dry today? Did Gotham really create so much distance already between you and your family? Were you just anxious and overthinking? Was she annoyed?

"My my, they must have you busy with interviewing skills."

You opened your mouth to respond, but she questioned you instead. "When are you coming back hon?"

This question confused you. "Uh, whenever you need me to, but I thought starting next month? For the injections?" You twirled with a frayed end on your blanket. Can I still return this? It's been like a week and it's already tearing apart... she snapped you out of your wandering with her next sentence.

"Sure, your dad and I are going on a cruise this week."

A cruise? Right after her first dose of an experimental cancer drug? With unknown side effects? "Mom, your treatment,"

"Oh we'll only be gone a week. Won't interfere with my next appointment." Walter meowed again. Who would be taking care of him?

"I mean, okay. I just think with not knowing the side effects of your first dose,"

"The way I see it dear is this might be the best I ever get to feel."

That sentence hit like a ton of bricks atop bruised ribs. "Couldn't you wait a week, just see the side effects?"

"The cruise leaves the port tomorrow."

"Mom,"

"We still can't believe that donor. Whoever they are, they really opened our finances up. Your father's been saving for years to try and make that initial bulk payment,"

You recalled the argument they'd had when your mother's cancer was initially found. Your mom wanted to start a payment plan immediately, but your dad thought if he put it into deferment for a few years and made payments to a high yield savings account every month their money would 'go exponentially further'. You hadn't cared much at the time, mostly because money stressed you the hell out, and at the time you were trying to avoid thinking about your mother's prognosis. Before you could decide what to say next, your dad had walked into the room and starting shouting loud enough for you to hear on the phone.

"Hey sweets, how are you and that Wayne guy doing?"

"I don't know how else to tell you guys I don't like him. We don't talk." This conversation was going nowhere, and you could smell an impending argument if you stayed on even another minute. You needed to check on one last thing before hanging up. "Who's looking after Walter?"

"Oh don't worry about that,"

"I am worried. Do you need me to come back to watch him?"

"Debbie will be stopping in throughout the week to check on him."

Walter was never very fond of Debbie; whenever she came over, in fact, he ran and hid. If you knew Debbie any less you might think Walter was placing judgment on her character, but no: she was just very loud, her laugh sounding a bit like a stampede. Walter was never very skittish, but after enough startles, he'd come to hide whenever he heard her come around. His discomfort was all you needed. "Tell her not to come, I'm coming home for the week."

"Hon," your mom began to chastise you, but you refused to let her finish. "No, no, I'm coming home tomorrow and I will stay with him. Case closed." After saying goodbye and lying about having already bought a nonrefundable ticket, you hung up and bought the earliest flight for tomorrow: 11am. You did your best to avoid thoughts of how the thousand Dr. Vry had sent was already disappearing, and filled the rest of your evening (sans figuring out what to do with fresh bags of perishable groceries) packing to head back the next day.

The bat signal hadn't lit since Thursday night. Bruce had been left reeling, kicking himself for not following up with Gordon on the owl debacle. He went out every night, and every few hours would move to the usual meeting place with Gordon to find an empty sky. It was Wednesday night before the signal lit again, and by that point Bruce had nearly gaslit himself into thinking the owls hadn't been there in the first place.

Gordon looked morose, but resolved. "We have the autopsy back for our John Doe." He held up a graphic photo of the man, gray and laid out on stainless steel. His chest and abdominal cavities were peeled open and pinned to keep tension, revealing a normal—yet punctured—chest and abdomen. Gordon confirmed its complete lack of novelty. "Nothing. Couldn't even trace back a name. No one posting about a missing husband, child, brother, nephew, friend." He paused to clear his throat. "However, we did find something unusual in one of his fillings."

"Unusual? How?"

"The coroner said he almost didn't catch it, but he runs the deceased through an MRI machine after especially gruesome cases. Normally fillings don't show up on magnets, but these ones did." He held out his other hand, revealing a few small pieces of chipped silvery metal. The metal was extremely slick and had a mirror finish to its shine. "It's a metallic alloy of sorts. I'll send it to the lab for processing."

He nearly asked to take it back to his own lab, but that would pressure the boundaries. Gordon was in a tight spot being seen with Batman. He couldn't push it. "How long until it's processed?"

Gordon shrugged, his nose scrunched like he was still smelling formaldehyde's stench. Bruce thought he might've caught a whiff off his jacket. "Not more than a coupla days. I'll signal for you." If the city was in a better place, if Gordon was in a better mood, he might have winked.

The pause gave Bruce just enough time to speak. He said it casually, without much fuss, as if it were a rolling breeze. "Did you see what was on the knives' handles?"

Gordon sighed. A good one? A bad one? Bruce's eyes trained on him like a hawk. The cowl felt tight. "Chicken scratch, most of 'em."

"Most?" Say more.

"No traceable logo."

Frustration bled into his tone. "Looked like an owl."

Gordon's eyes focused on no particular point on the back wall, his eyes narrowing. What? He saw it too, right? pounded against his ribs to be heard. After what felt like hours Gordon shook his head. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Was this an elaborate scheme? Did Gordon not see it? Was his, was his mind failing him? It glinted off the light perfectly, the etching was transparent in its shape, the beak, the feathers, the claws...

"You alright?" The Bat was lost in thought, breathing thick and heavy. Bruce nodded. To push, or not to push? Silence hung like smog between them. It was crucial to push it, imperative to reality check his mental faculties. "It didn't resemble an owl to you?"

Gordon shrugged. It gave no information to Bruce, who was close to running out of the room and laying face-down in his pillow the rest of the night while he actively avoided looking further into the death of his great-grandfather. Was his time coming sooner than his had? Was it due to his lack of sociability? Had he been concussed one too many times? His neuronal pathways seized up, the myelin sheaths disintegrated?

"Do you know anything about owls?"

Did Gordon know? Was this a trick question? Wait, he wasn't Bruce. He considered saying he'd seen them in peculiar position throughout town, but moreso than Gordon's rocky relationship with the police force, the man had no idea who Batman was; Bruce had to keep exclusively to formidable behavior due to the weakness of the knot tying them together. A kooky moment, or a Freudian slip could force Gordon to take out some scissors and sever their relationship. Bruce shook his head, and left.

Uber. TSA. Flight. Baggage. Uber. Key. Door. Lock. Walter. Eat. Sleep. Walter. Eat. Sleep. Walter. Eat. Sleep. Walter. The past few days had passed in such inconsequential monotony you resisted the conclusion you weren't alive at all. The only moments of reprieve you gathered were when Walter walked up and jumped into bed beside you, tucking his fluffy back against your stomach. He was the only reason you were able to sleep with the anxiety of your job being in limbo, and your mom having fled the town after her first shot. Your mom had left a note saying that the connection would be spotty on the cruise, but they would be back no later than 5pm the following Friday. Now it was Wednesday, and the food your parents had left was starting to dwindle. Your muscles ached to be moved further than the walk from your bed to the bathroom, your bed to the kitchen, or your bed to the living room couch. You put another ice cube into Walter's bowl, grabbed your helmet that was thankfully still in the hallway closet, and took off for a ride to the grocery store on your mom's old bike.

The air was warm, and the sun threatened to burn every centimeter of exposed skin. You'd forgotten just long enough that the stinging sensation was of hot sun piercing onto skin to where you decided against going back for SPF. You didn't have to worry about such basic, human things in Gotham; the sun barely came out, and when it did it was covered by such dense clouds and thick smog you couldn't begin to feel heat against your skin whatsoever. The buildings were hard and cold, the dense metal keeping you chilled no matter the season. Now the sun accosted you, the wheels of the bike running over fresh leaves and the occasional string of hay. You swerved past clumps of clay dirt that lay in the middle of the road, shut your eyes for a few seconds as you coasted, not having to look out for a pedestrian or car every five feet. This was living, this was where you wanted to be. Tears prickled your eyes as you coasted into the dusty parking lot of WinCo, a local grocery store chain to the PNW. You forgot a bike lock, but the city was small and trusted enough that you never heard about bikes getting stolen, anyway. The initial panic was immediately eased, as well as the tight knot in your chest. Maybe you belonged... here?

You walked into the grocery and went straight for the fruit aisle. As you placed apples and oranges and pears in your basket, you absentmindedly flipped through the past. When you were growing up here, it was too boring. You'd wanted nothing more than to leave. You wanted to see skyscrapers, and big cities, and always have something happening around you. Now that you had experienced the worst of what a city could give, this town with its penetrating sun and lofty trees felt like paradise. A paradise that was quickly interrupted, when you accidentally knocked baskets with Lara. "Oh shit,"

"Y/N?" She pulled her basket in and glanced to her left, at someone who you presumed was her exchange boyfriend. She stared at your shoes, you noticed her cheeks going pink. Tension yanked on your shoulders and your stomach flipped. "Hi. I'm watching Walter while my parents are on a cruise."

"No longer in Gotham?" Her boyfriend turned around when she mentioned The Most Feared City, and walked over. "Gotham? That shitshow? I don't know how anyone can live there."

Fucking prick. A strange defensiveness overtook you. "It's not as bad as people make it out to be." Yes it was. "I'm just visiting home, I have a journalism job back there."

"How's Bruce Wayne?" Her tone was mocking, quite unlike Lara, and you figured it had to be Rose and Gabbi's bitter influence in the time you'd been gone that brought this upon her. Mystery Man's eyes lit up, one of the buttons on his shirt threatened to pop like the bulgy vein in his forehead. "You know Bruce Wayne? The Bruce Wayne?"

"She knows him, alright." She side-eyed the guy and giggled. He laughed, which was startling, and shame bolted through your body like a sticky, sharp rod. He leaned into her ear and said, still loud enough for you to hear and likely purposely so, "Her?"

Before shame could fully envelope you, you righted the wrong; in part because the idea of someone believing Bruce had been inside you made you want to sink into the floor, in another wanting to assuage yourself of guilt. "We haven't fucked. Sorry. I was just trying to get back at losers I thought were my friends."

Lara gasped. "I can't believe you!" It rung hollow in your ear just as Dr. Vry had. If someone put their hand over your head they'd feel steam. "You didn't used to be like this, it's fucking disappointing." You spun around and ignored what she was saying behind you, shoving your feet against the ground, making your calves burn with each grief-consumed footstep. It doesn't matter what they think. It doesn't matter what she's saying. Soon enough you made it across the store to the pantry aisle, pretending to inspect some cavatappi noodles in your quivering hands. The cardboard soaked up your bulleted tears, and you tossed it in your basket after catching a glimpse of your reflection in the boxes' plastic window. You fell to your knees and covered it up pretending to inspect the marinara, not trusting your thighs or knees to keep you steady. Everything hit you all at once, panic rising in your chest and narrowing your esophagus. You grabbed a random sauce and ran to the self checkout, ringing up your two items, grabbing a bag, and taking off for home.

The ride home wasn't as quaint as the one there. The sun wasn't at your backside, now it seared into your bleary eyes as it set, making you unable to see a rock in the road, sending you flying overtop the handlebars. When you touched your knees and elbows, they stung and stained your fingertips red. The last ten minutes of the walk was utter misery, as blood dribbled slowly down your knees and down to your wrists. Walter meowed when you came back, but you couldn't pet him. You turned the water as cold as you could manage to wash away the cakey blood and dirt. Your hands hesitated before lathering the shampoo, and when they scrubbed the back of your head you began to cry again. Your face was hot and your body ice cold. You sat on the floor, pulled your knees up, and wrapped your hands around your chest as sobs shrieked out of you. The water ran pink, then pastel, then clear. Being alive hurt. The thought pounded at the back of your corneas, chafed blisters between your thighs, and spiked the ridges in your throat, that you might never, ever, feel "home". Walter meowed at the door, you turned off the shower, and toweled off to open another can of Friskies.

[my-castles-crumbling]

HIYA CAS ❤️ It’s wolfstar anon!!!!!! Remember me? Guess what? ME AND CLARA ARE DATING NOW! 

So turns out she’s had a massive crush on me for ages. Which, you know, seems obvious in hindsight. 

So imma just tell u what’s happened and then like- the adivce I need. Cool? 

SO BASICALLY I’ve been tryna keep outta my house over the summer cause my parents work from home and it’s not civilised, so I usually go out and chill with my mates. 

SO like two weeks ago (we’ve hung out a lot these are just the important ones okay?) I text Clara and ask if it’s cool for me to drop by cause it’s like 9am and she’s usually still asleep, but she texts back that she’s awake cause she’s got these awful period cramps (being a person with a uterus can fucking suck right?) so I go to her place, it’s past town so I pick up some of those like heat up pad thingys that stick to you cause she likes tho and said they were out and obviously snacks and then, because she’s in pain and i’m a sucker, watch Taylor Swift videos and the Era Tour with her (AGAIN). 

Nothing against Taylor just not my vibe. Also i’ve watched it with Clara SO MANY TIMES cause she loves it that I know like every song. 

Anyway, we’re sat in her room watching it and I realise that i’m being a fucking idiot. I always forget to consider romance just cause- idk it doesn’t occur to me 😭 BUT Clara is amazing and also, I need to chill. She’s my friend most of all, I should just TALK to her. 

ANYWAYS so last week I got my head out my arse and told her about what i’d been thinking about, and she admitted she DOES LIKE ME, and has for a while. 

Sometimes I feel like i’m not being as genuine as other people you know? Like, Clara has fancied me for a while and I didn’t even notice? And I don’t really know how I feel. I just find romance and stuff like that so hard, because it’s never been THAT important to me. 

But now it is because it’s Clara.

I didn’t ask her out until like three days ago. After we talked last week, I told her that her admitting she likes me won’t fuck with our friendship, but that I have like no idea how i’m feeling so i’d get back to her, but in the meantime she can vibe and know that we’re cool.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Like how am I supposed to know if I fancy her or not? Sure I do things for her I wouldn’t do for other people, because I care more, but maybe i’m just a dick to other people? I DONT KNOW CASSSSS. 

Look so like three days ago I decided to ask her out so that I could know. 

And we had an amazing date and it felt like nothing i’ve felt before but I felt guilty at the end cause it was like I was using her.  So I admitted I had no clue how I was feeling, and that I never get crushes on people first cause I never feel like that until I start feeling like that and I think maybe I always had a crush on her and mixed it up with friendship and how i’m a mess she should probably stay away from.

And then she told me she knows i’m a mess because she asked me out last year and we went on a whole date and she kissed my cheek and then I DIDNT REALISE IT FUCKING A DATE 😭

So… yeah. You’re now updated :)

Long story short, we’re dating and i’m hopefully not a dick ❤️

Also how the fuck do you know the difference between friendship and- not? Like, more? I feel like no one’s taught me EMOTIONS correctly 😭

Wow I am SOOOOOO SHOCKED :P

But for real as far as our question, this is a difficult one. Personally, I see more than friendship as someone who I care deeply about but also who I want deep intimacy with. Someone who I want in my future, but someone who I also crave closeness with in all ways. But some people don’t like certain types of intimacy for whatever reason and still feel romantic feelings, so people see romance differently depending on who it is.

I think honestly, you should give it a shot. If it starts to feel wrong, communicate that. Say you love her but just as a friend! Just keep the lines of communication open and be honest, that’s the best thing you can do 🥰

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse’s Rewatch Thoughts SPN 04x07 

It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

“I’m stuffing my face with tubular meat so I guess it’s time to watch these fuckers”

“You can break my seal, Cas” “Dean doesn’t know how to handle being dominated like that”

“Fucking kid makes a mess” “I can’t remember who murders who” 🎶who’s murdering who?🎶

“Oh this is the one with the shit in the candy”

I don’t like the razor blades

“It’s a really weird camera angle to be honest. It’s the first time they’ve done that”

“You can’t leave this fucking guy alone for 2 minutes. He just swallows all the razor blades in the house”

“Idk what kind of drugs you need to put in the candy to make people eat razor blades” “nice.” “Drugs man” “What the fuck is he doing at that squiggly bit?” “LOOK HOW FRESH HE LOOKS”

“You see how Dean took off that jacket? I wish I could be that cool” (we watched Dean take his jacket off twice) “What does she do? Choke on shit?” “Wow. Way to be fucking jealous” We’re going to eat apples now that this person died bobbing for apples

“She’s fucking dead bitch”

“HELL YEAH. SHE”S A LOBSTER” “How come the apples aren’t baked?” Dean is wearing a blue tie

“Look at that stupid smile” (We watched that twice) “Sam’s hair look really greasy. Those sideburns are awful” Thats now how you pronounce Samhain

“Oh, is sam talking about wearing Hanes? Basic bitch underwear?” “Donald Trump has small hands, and he’s pretty fucking scary” “he’s always eating dude. Oh its halloween candy” “Why does he eat so much on TV? I feel like he eats more-and-more as seasons go on, and then he stops suddenly” “He thought about that a lot” Dean has gender troubles

Dean shouldn’t fat-shame

CASTIEL ANGEL OF THE LORD

“Fucking nerd” and laughed at Sam

“Sounds like a plan. Maybe you should leave” “I think we’re up to 8 billion now” Dean looks as Cas’s lips a lot

“Idk if it’s intentional. They just always film them so closely” “Maybe with all the guns going off all the time, Dean’s just trying to lip read” “It’s funny that Dean said because he’s daddy’s blunt instrument” “that’s one hell of a bet” “better wash the car quick” “baseball sucks ass” “that was convenient” “This is the lock-picking lawyer” “Cas looks so convicted” “This guy looks like he plays acoustic guitar” “She’s not the least bit surprised that they just ventilated someone in front of her?” “They do that a lot - give it a shot. I means it pays off until you get pricked by a nail in the wall” “Kid you wish you were on drugs right now” “Oh hell yeah” “yeah that’s how that works” “That whole family had a problem dying young I suppose” “They went really close on the cameras this time” 🎶with my crotch wide open I’m torching everyone🎶

“You’re losing your mojo man” 🎶need to suck some more demon dick🎶

“Thats a lot of heavy breathing and shit man” “I’m not sure what Dean’s more disgusted by - using his psychic powers or the heavy breathing” “Is that much of a threat? It would be instantaneous” “They always look so surprised when the angels leave” “IS this a destiel moment because there’s 2 creepy guys watching kids in a playground?” “oh yeah his seal was definitely broken at that point” “you’re fucked in the head. Dude how is that a destiel moment?”

[honeybear-yammy]

Side Of The Road | JJ Maybank

Warnings: cursing, smut, unprotected sex

Pairings: JJ Maybank x Female Reader

Summary: In which Y/N gets stuck on the side of the road and JJ offers to help her out but, when Y/N doesn't have the money to pay him, he offers another solution.

© Honeybear-Yammy, please do not steal, translate, copy, or transfer my work.

You sighed and sat in your car waiting. Your car had broke down on the side of the road and you called your best friend John B to try to help. You called about 35 minutes ago so you figured he should be here anytime now.

A car pulled up behind you and parked behind you. To your surprise a blonde boy got out of the car.  A gorgeous blonde boy. You quickly noticed him. It was JJ Maybank, John B’s best friend. You got out of the car to talk to him about the problem. “Herd you were in a pickle huh?” JJ asked walking to the hood of the car. “Yeah… it broke down, I have no idea why..” You huffed.

“It’s fine, nothing JJ Maybank can’t fix.” He smirked and looked under the hood. You chuckled a little rolling your eyes playfully. “I figured John B was coming, not you.” You laughed. “You really think JB could’ve fixed your car?” He looked up to you and corked a brow. “I- yeah you’re right..” You laughed. “Good thing he sent you then..” You smiled slightly. “Yup good thing indeed.” JJ said and then took a took at the problem. In a matter of minutes the car purred again.

“All done.” JJ said as he closed the hood. “I- you fixed it already? That quickly?” You asked shocked. “Yup! I told you, nothing JJ Maybank can’t fix.” He chuckled. “Let me just get my wallet.. I’ll pay you.” You searched through your purse for your wallet and couldn’t find it. “Shit… I must have forgot my wallet at home..” You huffed.

“That’s fine.. I can think of.. another way you could pay me.” JJ said biting his lip. You corked your brow at him. “A much more fun way for both of us..” He smirked. “And what would that way be?” You asked. “Maybe..” He got very close to you, his lips inches away from yours. You looked up at him and bit your lip gently. You had never been this close to JJ but… you loved it.

“You could pay me back by.. getting into the back of the car with me and getting on my dick..” JJ smirked. “I-” You bit your lip and nodded… very much liking that idea. “Baby.. we use our words.. tell me what you want.” He tilted your chin up to look at him. “I want you…” You bit your lip. JJ’s lips crashed onto yours and the two of you began to passionately make out in the open.

JJ opened the car door. “Ladies first..” He smirked. You gigged and got into the back of your car and he followed you into the back shutting the door. You pulled off JJ’s top then he pulled off your top along with your bra. “God you’re so hot..” He leaned back to get a better look at you. You bit your lip and blushed a little. JJ began to suck on your right nipple, thumbing the left. Then the switched doing the opposite to the left. You let out a small whimper.

JJ lifted you up slightly so he could pull off your shorts and panties so now you were completely naked for him. You started to unbuckle his pants, desperate for his cock. He pulled his dick out of his pants. You positioned yourself and sunk down onto his cock, letting out a moan as you did so. You began to bounce on his cock and threw your head back moaning out. JJ held onto your hips tightly and groaned. His grip tightened on your hips as he started to kiss your next.

This was by far the best sex you had ever had. JJ decided to help you so, he held you up slightly and started thrusting into you. “I-I- fuuuck JJ.” You moaned out loudly. “That’s right.. say my name babygirl..” JJ said as he groaned. “Fuck I’m close!” You moaned out. JJ sped up the pace, pounding into you. Your jaw dropped. His sex was… amazing. You were moaning basically as loud as you could now.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum!” You yelled. “Cum for me baby.” JJ groaned out, his thrusts starting to get sloppy. You moaned out and saw stars… then you squirted. JJ came at the same time you did. “I- damn y'know… you must really love my cock.. you squirted all over it.” JJ smirked. You giggled a little. “Can you stay inside me a little longer?” You looked at him. “Sure..” JJ nodded. You smiled and rested your head on his check now cockwarming him. You never knew breaking down on the side of the road could be so fun sometimes.

Author's Note: tysm for reading!

Taglist ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

@pankhoeforlife @ceceswriting @my-baexht-ls @lovedetlost @bethoconnor @n-kkpoly @vashappeningkevin @luversgirl @drewbooooo @gillybear17

[castielcommunism]

You are so right for your opinions on people being anti Mary. Interacting with those kind of people always leaves a bad taste in my mouth because I get reminded of those early female spn fans and their unique brand of misogyny. It gets even funnier when they try to explain themselves like noooo I hate Mary because DeAn wAs mEaN tO CaStIeL aFtEr sHe dIeD. Well have you considered the fact that Dean is a bitch (and I’m saying this as someone who’s very Dean coded) and he is responsible for his own shitty actions and how unfairly he treated Cas during that time. I agree that Mary as a character had a lot of potential when she came back and a lot of it was wasted but really this is supernatural so it’s not that surprising. So yeah if you actively hate her then I don’t trust you.

my mary apologia is at (sitting in court on trial for murder) “wow. god forbid women do anything” levels so even if every bad faith thing people said about her was true I would still be like ok well she was correct and her dick is huge and her shitty stupid fail children should suck it up <3

and like it IS misogyny that informs most people’s “mary critical” takes but it’s also very much terminal deangirlism. I haven’t scoured every weird corner of spnblr so maybe there anti-mary deancrits (idk how sam stans feel about her on the whole but I haven’t seen anything outlandish from them before), but the most common I’ve seen are the dean goggles crowd. every character in supernatural is then read as either Friends of Dean Winchester or Enemies of Dean Winchester (there are no other categories), but the friend/enemy distinction is largely based on whether or not someone is 120% polite and nice to him at all times.

I can’t remember who said this but a lot of people don’t understand why they like the things they like, and I think that’s also true about stuff people dislike. which is why I respect people who are honest about where they’re coming from and say yeah I just hate this character because they’re mean to a character I like. but most of the time you get people doing eleventh dimensional mental gymnastics to insist actually no mary is HORRIBLE because blah blah blah.

and I’m not immune to this either like I have defended stupid positions before and will do so again, but I think it would be beneficial if people admitted that sometimes they don’t have a big brain reason for disliking a character. being a simple hater is fine! that’s a noble position! just be honest about it. it’s very freeing

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

happy birthday, @irrlicht-ghostfront ❤️ i love you, and i'm judging you for this being your prompt, but i love you some more, so here <33 (warnings: car accident) [NO MCD]

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Blink and a miss — accident — wrecked car, and fleeting on the painful side of barely conscious in a pool of his own blood. There was too much of it anyway. Castiel felt dizzy more than he felt the pain as time, almost tangibly, passed on.

There's no way he was going to live.

(It was supposed to end old — fingers crossed for painless. Featuring inevitably beeping monitors, and time to come up with last words. A goodbye to his family.

Not that he had much of one right now — he isn't sure if he can call Dean's family his, yet; Dean seems to insist on it but then he's always been a pioneer in giving Castiel more than he could ever deserve, starting with his own heart, so Castiel can't tell — but he'd finally started to have intentions to, in the future.

A dog, for Dean.

Children.

Intentions to beg his brother to come back, and not give up until he'd gotten his forgiveness and his only remaining family back. But that — well, it was a different alley than Castiel's thoughts swarmed to right now. And swarm they did, his head throbbing, and life thudding at its gates.

Castiel had also intended to marry Dean, misty-eyed and denying it. Intended to figure out flower arrangements, and guest seating. Intended to kiss him at the end of the aisle, with his hands cupping Dean's face, and Dean's around his waist.

Then, move out from their shared apartment into a house.

Yellow wallpapered bedroom.

Treasure, and keep Dean happy forever.

Fuck.)

His breathing is still ragged, and his head feels too empty, but the heaving has lessened. Probably the blood loss. Less pain, more haze. And the resultant thoughtlessness is perhaps the only thing that sparks the courage in him to do what he does next.

Castiel picks up his phone.

(A struggle, but he's determined.)

If he's dying, and he'll never get to live the life he'd finally started to dream of — never have a life to share with Dean, never get to see Dean again, then he'll take what he can get.

He's allowed this, he tells himself. Allowed to be selfish, one last time.

He's on his deathbed after all.

It's outstandingly painful to bend his neck enough to see he's picked the right number — but the mere idea of accidentally calling an acquaintance at a time like this brings a tensed sliver of life into his muscles, and straining, he looks. Right enough, he's got 'Dean :)' on the screen.

Pressing dial, he lets his head fall back on the seat, wincing again. Maybe that'll relent the floatiness, if his body circulates some goddamn blood into his brain — because he needs this.

He's dying, but he needs this. One last time, he needs Dean.

A thumb swipes the familiarly placed 'on speaker' button — he can't bring the phone to his ear right now. He's going to have to risk Dean hearing the still crackling ruins of the poor engine, strewn across the wreck in smoldering pieces.

He must make quite a sight, he thinks, waiting for the call to go through. Man found in car wreckage, trapped by the door, dead within —

"Cas?"

Dean's voice cuts through Castiel's morbid mental news report, and almost reflexively, he closes his eyes. There's a tangible relief in his head when he does it, and god, Castiel must've been doing worse than he's convinced himself he is.

Dean sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar its like home.

It's the last time he ever gets to have this.

"Hello, Dean." Maybe he manages to not sound weird, or Dean's just not listening for clues. The loud racket behind him, at Bobby (and Dean's) automobile shop, helps as well.

"Hey." There's a smile in his voice now. Fuck. He's smiling. He's smiling, and he's smiling at Cas, and it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear it.

He loses himself trying to remember the last time he saw Dean smile — earlier this morning, kissing him goodbye before he left — no, down from their balcony, accompanied by a gleeful wave because Dean's shift started a couple hours after Cas's day in the office did — no, when Castiel checked the time, and the Dean on his lockscreen grinned up at him — and he doesn't realize he's fallen silent until Dean's speaking again.

"Babe, you okay?"

There's a tinge of worry. Only a smidge, and it still hurts. The last time Castiel hears Dean can't be laced with anything bad. And it can't be Castiel's fault.

There's a pause. "Cas, what's up?"

Castiel doesn't know what to say so he tries to hold on to the phone tighter, his throat fluttering as a tear rolls down his face.

"Wait," The worry dissipates, apology slipping in. "Am I forgetting something? Did we make plans for lunch, 'cause Bobby and —"

"N-no." Cas struggles, and it's getting harder to not pant. He sounds too breathy anyway. "We don't. Didn't."

He forces a smile into his voice while saying it. As if it doesn't break him that he'll never get to see Dean again. But he needs to smile, doesn't he? One last time. Just for Dean.

"Well, do you want to?" Dean sounds cheerful. Normal.

Perfect.

Castiel doesn't want to die.

"Not, today." He half-heaves, and another tear rolls down his face.

Not today.

(If he'd known, he'd have stared to his heart's fill this morning. Kissed him an hour longer. Held him in his sleep. Oh, if he had had any foresight at all.)

"Dickface-atron keeping ya busy?"

Castiel lets the air stuck in his chest out, and it probably makes up for a small chuckle. He doesn't want to lie, he just won't agree.

"Figures."

"Sorry." Castiel tells him, meaning it entirely.

"Nah, s'good. I love you." Dean adds, clearly smiling wider, because they've only recently added that to their vernacular instead of the pedestal it'd been on for the first eight months of their friendship turning into a relationship. Somehow, it feels grander though — or, that might also be because it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear Dean say it to him.

Oh, he loves him so much.

(He doesn't want to die.)

"And I have my packed lunch anyway." Dean continues, filling the gap thankfully. Machines blare in his background and he braves on like a man used to not being able to hear his own words due to the racket. Castiel is grateful for it. He hangs onto every word, drinks it in. Makes himself hold on. "Pretty sure you'd kick me to the curb if I let a PBJ go to waste."

"Jelly?" Cas smiles, when he wants to sob. He's certain he sounds fainter too, he feels fainter, and it's a miracle it doesn't show.

The tears well up in his chest, for possibly the rest of time. Dead men don't cry, and Castiel can't.

(Can't be long now, can it?)

"Jelly." Dean confirms. "It's the curse of paying attention when you rant about jam, you know." He snickers. "I used to be normal."

"Yes, I'm very lucky."

Dean chuckles, and Castiel sighs.

He's yearned for Dean to be happy, tried to make him smile, longed to see him laugh, for so, so long it feels like a part of him now. And now, it goes back to Dean, without him.

Somebody else'll make him smile, somebody else will wake him up with a kiss on his temple, and somebody else will love Dean for exactly who he is because it's Dean, and there was never someone who deserved it more — so of course somebody will.

But it will never be him again.)

An untethered broken sound escapes his throat, and Cas winces, faking a cough with it.

That makes the blood gush.

"Oh, also — wait. Just a second." He interrupts himself, and probably covers the speaker with his palm before yelling blurrily to someone near him.

(Or perhaps it's not supposed to be blurry. Castiel wouldn't know. He can hardly make out his own breathing. It's a feat that he can make out the conversation, even if most of it is instinct memory, and all he's doing is holding onto Dean for as long as he can.

Somehow, it feels like he's been doing so forever. But the time left, had never been so little.)

When Dean returns, he sounds apologetically busy.

"Dude, that dick who yelled at Ash, remember? He's back. Garth went this time, 'cause douchebag brought a Sedan."

Castiel swallows again, and vaguely registers that it tastes like metal. Almost like there's blood mixed with saliva.

There's another morbid thought. What, in this wreck, is finally going to kill him?

"I should probably check on him. Garth sorta wears on you."

"Of course." He croaks, and slips — fuck, he slips — but for once, thank god for oversensitive customers and boyfriends with likeable personalities, because Dean's conversing off the phone again, his hand on the speaker.

"I'll call you back, babe." Dean comes back to add in a rush, and Cas sucks in a painful breath, slowly beginning to feel like the only thing keeping him conscious any more is the sensation of air in his lungs, in his mouth, in the back of his throat. "Still have to ask what you even called about, you know. Or maybe if you just missed me." He beams, he obviously beams, and Cas stifles a groan.

"I do." He wheezes. "I —"

"Me too." Dean returns, flirty, and Cas goes to add to it — because he has to, because he's not going to make it, he's not going to be able to hold on until Dean returns, and he has to — but there's a click.

Castiel stares at the screen, devastated.

(Or tries to, anyway.)

"I love you," He cries out, aware that the line's cut, but needing to hear himself say it anyway. Plus, his head feels too numb to keep words inside anymore. It's less a prison of thoughts, and more a canyon of loss.

More tears fall.

His heart is beating faster than it ever has.

"I love —" His voice trembles, tries again, and fails. His throat refuses to comply with the thousands of things there remain to be said, and the words slowly fade, neglected.

In more ways than one, it's like being administered anaesthesia before a surgery — Castiel was operated on for tonsils at age eleven, and he remembers it still — and it finally sinking in, and knocking you out, as the doctor says to count to ten, and you hardly graze six.

His hands clutch the phone tighter, neck rendering him incapable of looking anymore, so he has no idea what his thumbs are trying to type — but it doesn't matter, not really, because this is it. Completely alone, young, and desperately in love with Dean Winchester, Castiel closes his eyes for the very last time.

And everything fades to black.

*

When they find him, it's been at least four hours.

It's night.

The uniformed official stuck with the responsibility of calling the next of kin, Victor Henriksen, fishes out the wallet as the paramedics carry him into the ambulance and attach him to IV immediately, and steps away to dial his emergency contact with a crinkled brow of sympathy.

And as he waits for the guy, a Dean Winchester, to pick up, he can't help but notice that his number is exactly the same as the one the last text almost sent from the victim's phone had been typed to — clutched in his hand, an unnerving, 'I love'.

And well, he isn't particularly into romcoms, but he hopes the poor guy gets a chance to finish his sentence.

He was in pretty bad condition, Henriksen recalls, and the bloodloss had knocked him out for several hours, but he looked twenty five at most, more importantly healthy, and — he looks at the wallet again, and the picture of two men (one of them, the victim) smiling at the camera with their hands around each other — most importantly, seemed to have reasons to fight for.

(Plus, he'd been the one to call the accident in himself — albeit four hours after it happened, but Henriksen figured he'd been passed out for that long — so he had to want to live, right?)

"Hello. Dean Winchester, who's this?"

"Hello, sir, I'm Officer Henriksen, and I have you listed as Mr Castiel Novak's emergency..."

*

"You dick."

Castiel coughs, and gives up on squinting against the bright light. It's a LED. Like in hospitals.

"Jesus, Cas. You complete asshole, you —"

Castiel opens his eyes a sliver again. The walls do resemble a hospital. Plain, white tiled. Way too many AC vents. Is that something on his hand?

"So you'll open your goddamn eyes, and not even fucking look at me."

There's IV's on both his hands. And something stiff around his neck. Almost like a collar, but thicker. And when he breathes, his ribs start like they might hurt — but the pain is numbed as it registers. He must be running really high on painkillers; they never really worked for him.

"Fine. You don't gotta look at me." A pause. Then, more shaky. "I was so scared, Cas. So fucking terrified. They said they weren't sure, said it may be too late, and you were dying. And then they tell me the crash happened at three, and I feel like I'm going to have a fucking stroke."

His vision slowly unblurs, feeling returning to his fingers. He tries to fold them, and winces at the strain.

Immediately, there's a hand on his arm.

"Stop moving, dumbass. I'm going to kill you for this, you know. I am, but I need you to be okay first."

The words don't register, but the voice does.

(He sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar it's like home.)

"Hell, I just need you, Cas. Period. I need your ridiculous, stupid ass — and I need you to look at me when I'm begging you to be okay, and I need you to stay, with me, forever, and not call me first when you need a goddamn ambulance, you dumbass —"

"Hello, Dean." Castiel interrupts, a hoarse whisper, and he thinks he hears a sob from the general direction of the love of his life.

(He really can't move his neck — he's got to tell Dean that at some point if he's not understood already. It's the cast.)

"Oh, thank god." Dean cries, the words muffled by either him burying his face in his sleeve, or the lifesaving medications Castiel is alive on account of, but it's okay, right? Dean's here — and he's okay. It's fine.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm still going to kill you for this."

"Well, I'd deserve that." Castiel tries to joke, and almost pulls it off, except for the part where he can't see Dean's reaction until the latter lets out another broken sob, and grabs his hand. Castiel freezes, trying to squeeze back, tears welling up again. "I'm really sorry, Dean." Then, after a beat. "I'm going to make this up to you."

It feels like a strange thing to say, but it's exactly what he means.

"Yeah, you are. Although it can't stop my revenge being not texting you when I have a heart attack in aisle three when I'm eighty and you're buying eggs, but okay."

If Castiel could, he would've shaken his head at that.

(But at least, and this is what really matters — they made it. He's alive. He — he gets this.)

"I love you, you son of a bitch."

Castiel smiles slowly, a tear landing on his pillow. "I love you too."

[perlukafarinn]

for the sake of this fic, let’s pretend angels can’t heal monsters.

Their luck had been bound to run out sooner or later. 

Dean had known this, had felt it with every beat of his heart since he first arrived in purgatory, and somehow it still caught him off guard when it finally happened.

 They’d been cornered by a pack of monsters he couldn’t even identify, things that looked human and moved like a nightmare, their monsterhood betrayed by a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth.

Already at the start of the fight, Dean found himself cornered alone, and with a quick glance around saw Cas and Benny had similarly been sectioned off. The monsters outnumbered them almost two-to-one and Dean barely had the time to raise his knife before one of the ugly fuckers was on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

Whatever those things were, they’d been smart enough to ambush and divide, but Dean’s humanity was working in his favor for once. The monster on top of him was chomping eagerly for a bite of flesh, eyes glazed over and mindless with hunger. It didn’t even seem to notice that Dean’s blade was now digging into its throat, as it inched itself closer to its own demise.

Dean clenched his fingers around the handle of his knife but before he could strike the killing blow, a terrible scream pierced through the air.

“Benny!” Cas called and Dean looked up, heart pounding in terror, catching the sight of Benny sinking to the ground just in time before three monsters were on  him.

Dean jolted as he felt a sudden pain in his shoulder - the fucker on top of him had bitten him, teeth just barely piercing through Dean’s leather jacket to graze the vulnerable flesh underneath.

Fueled by fear and pain, Dean grasped his blade tightly and drove it into the neck of the monster. It froze, staring down at Dean in confusion, its blood dripping dark and viscous down Dean’s hands and staining his skin.

“That’s my favorite jacket, you asshole.” 

With another surge of strength, Dean pushed himself off the ground, rolling them around and straddling the monster, driving his knife in deeper until he’d separated the head from the body. 

No time to waste, he got up on his feet and ran towards Benny. Cas was already there, grabbing one of the monsters by the head and lighting it up from the inside out. Dean got to them just in time to deal a killing blow to the last of them, decapitating it smoothly as it raised its head towards him.

And there was Benny, lying in the pile of corpses. He was soaked with blood and what little of his skin shone through was deadly pale. His arms looked torn to shreds but his right leg seemed to have taken the worst of it, looking utterly mangled from the knee up.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered. He knelt, reaching for Benny with trembling hands as if he could stem the flow of his blood with them, somehow. “It’s - it’s okay. Cas can heal you, it’ll be okay.”

“Dean,” Cas said. “I can’t.”

Dean turned around, sure he’d misheard. Cas looked down at him, genuine regret in his eyes.

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t?” 

“Benny’s a vampire,” he reminded Dean gently. “I can’t heal monsters.”

“Brother.” Benny’s voice was quiet and raspy. It sounded like it took all his energy just to speak. “It’s fine. We always knew it might end like this. You gotta leave me, I won’t -” he coughed, droplets of blood landing on his lips. “- I won’t be able to heal quick enough. I’m a liability.”

“Like hell,” Dean muttered. He looked around desperately, as if the solution might present itself. He shifted on his knees, pain flaring in his shoulder as he moved.

Dean stilled. 

He knew what he had to do.

“Cas can’t heal you,” he said slowly. “But I can.”

Benny squinted up at him. “What?”

“Dean...” Cas said, clearly understanding Dean’s train of thought. “He would need to take a lot. Too much.”

“And then you heal me,” Dean said, pointing between the three of them. “That should work, right?”

Cas didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

“Help me get him upright,” Dean told him.

He wrapped his arm around Benny’s shoulders, moving carefully as Benny groaned in pain at the movement. In a moment, Cas was on his other side, helping Dean haul Benny into a sitting position, propping him against a nearby tree.

“Wha-” Benny blinked, squinting at Dean as he started removing his jacket. “What’re you doing?”

“Saving your sorry ass.” 

Dean handed his jacket to Cas, then paused as he considered the best way to do this. His neck would be quickest, he knew, and they needed to get this over with as soon as possible. 

Well. What happens in purgatory...

Before he could think too hard on what he was about to do, Dean climbed onto Benny’s lap, straddling him in order to keep most of his body weight off of him. As if on autopilot, Benny raised one hand to grasp Dean’s waist, supporting him.

“Come on, buddy,” Dean said, cupping the back of Benny’s head and bringing him in close. “Drink up.”

Benny’s hand tightened its grip on his waist and there was the flicker of hot, wet tongue against Dean’s skin. That was all the warning he got before Benny sank his teeth in, ferocious and hungry, and began to draw deep sips of blood. 

The pain of it was blinding for a moment, sharp and intense, but it didn’t last long. What was left was a strange sensation, a pull and a tug, and Dean’s head swam with the realization that he was feeling the blood being sucked from his body. 

Benny’s tongue was still pressed against his skin. He shifted, growing strong enough to move as he drew more of Dean’s blood, and his arm wrapped tighter around Dean’s body, hand moving from his waist to his lower back. 

With one hungry, insistent pull, Dean felt his knees give way but Benny just tugged him even closer, wrapping his free hand around the back of Dean’s neck, holding him still as he drank. 

Dean swallowed. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from losing so much blood but it wasn’t for his body to grow hotter, for his stomach to tighten in excitement, for the sounds forcing their way past his lips, small pants that sounded almost like groans.

And it sure as hell wasn’t for his dick to get hard.

Maybe he’d been in purgatory for too long. Maybe it was just that it had been a while since he’d last had another body pressed against his like this. Maybe it was Benny’s hands on his body, so strong and assured, or the burning touch of his mouth on Dean’s skin.

Maybe it was the fact that Benny was getting hard too, erection pressing insistently against Dean’s ass through two layers of denim.

“That’s enough.”

Dean startled. He’d forgotten that Cas was there, watching them. 

Oh, shit. Cas was there and Dean was sitting in a vampire’s lap, dick hard enough to pound nails, with no way of getting out of the situation without showing his ass.

Well. Metaphorically speaking.

Benny pulled away, the release of his fangs sending another sharp stab of pain down Dean’s spine. He leaned against the tree, licking the blood from his lips and looking way too smug for his own good. 

“You okay there, cher?” 

Dean shifted uncomfortably and oh, wrong move, because now his hard dick was pressing against Benny’s stomach. There was no way Benny couldn’t feel it but he just grinned, eyeing Dean with a lazy sort of curiosity.

“I’m fine,” Dean said, voice coming out weaker than intended. He was feeling a little light-headed, come to think of it.

Then, an arm was wrapping around his waist and yanking. Dean stumbled, trying to get his feet under him as he was hauled up but it didn’t seem to matter; Cas was handling all of his body weight just fine.

Dean peaked over his shoulder. Cas was glowering at Benny, arm tightening almost imperceptibly around Dean when Benny just winked in response. 

“Cas?” Dean asked. 

At the sound of his voice, Cas finally looked his way. His eyes were almost impossibly intense so close up, threatening to swallow Dean whole.

Rather than say anything, Cas raised his hand, cupping Dean’s neck gently and for one crazy moment, Dean was sure he was gonna pull him in for a kiss. Instead, warmth started streaming from Cas’ palm.

Dean closed his eyes and couldn’t help the groan of relief as he felt his body heal, the wound on his neck knitting itself back together and fresh blood rushing through his veins.

The warmth slowly receded but Cas didn’t move his hand. Dean opened his eyes and Cas was still staring at him, that dark, inscrutable look.

“Should I leave you two alone?” Benny asked.

Cas huffed and then he was pushing Dean to his feet, letting go off him so quickly he almost stumbled right back down his knees. He caught himself at the last moment, watching Cas’ retreating back as he stalked towards the trail ahead.

Benny whistled. “Touchy.”

Dean rolled his eyes but offered Benny his hand, helping him back on his feet. Before he could let go, Benny grabbed his shoulder with his free hand.

“I just wanted-” Benny swallowed. “Thank you. I don’t think anyone else would’ve...”

Dean averted his eyes, uncomfortable at the naked display of gratitude, and gave Benny a curt nod. 

“Don’t mention it, man.”

[darthslaydr]

Touch my girl ever again, I will rain down hellfire

TRIGGER WARNING-------------------------

Summary- Y/n get’s drunk and some guys thinks its okay to touch her. Little did they know, she was y/n fucking y/l/n and her boyfriend was Dean fucking Winchester, the in real life, Mr. J and Quinn.

Pairing- Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings- TRIGGER WARNING. Violence, angst, fluff, s*xu*l ass*ault, Alcohol. I also wanna add that I normalised some things, like crooked noses (y’all are beautiful) y/n beating guys up and Dean beating guys up.

Word count- 1030

MASTERLIST

Another day, another bourbon. That was your life. Living with the Winchesters is great but sharing anything with them is not what we do. Since you were young, you have only relied on yourself for everything, but today was different. You couldn’t save him, you couldn’t save the little boy’s life. You promised yourself you could and you disappointed everyone. The bourbon was your punishment, you hated drinking, it made you feel out of control but sometimes that is all you want, or should you say need.

The first thing you remember is, you enter the bar in your usual clothes, a tank top and shorts. Everyone eyed you up and down, you were gorgeous and everyone knew that. Your nose was crooked but that was the beauty that everyone strived for, your eyes were tiny but everyone could see the entire universe. It was 10 p.m and you ordered your usual. Your thoughts occupied the next two hours, to the point you don’t even remember how much you drank but you knew it was a lot because you had a high tolerance, more than the boys. You could feel yourself getting tipsy after what you thought was the eighth shot. You could feel your phone vibrating beside you, as the minutes passed multiple missed calls appeared all of the different names; Dean, Sam, Cas. The truth was you were too numb to even pick it up, the only thing you could pick up was the chilled glass.

At the bunker-

“Where the hell is she?” Dean screamed at Sam and Cas in the bunker

“How the hell do I know? All I know she is okay, she is y/n after all” said Sam

“I know, but it is 3 a.m., she is usually back by this time,” Dean said with a lower voice

Sam could see the fiery concern in his eyes mixed with the love he had for y/n. The truth was, Dean needed her more than she did, but you know what they say about love, love is a bitch.

Dean gets up and starts walking and pacing around the room, like any second he will see her and his heartbeat will be steady.

To his demise, you weren’t there

At the bar-

You gazed over your phone after the 12th missed call, it was 3 a.m., shit. You stood up and you lost your control instantly. You could not drive like this, you were more responsible than that. You finally called back Dean, but before you could say anything, someone’s unwelcomed arms got ahold of your waist with your instinct, you turned around and pushed the guy.

“Woah, Woah baby girl. I am just tryna help you” he smirked while looking at your legs

“Suck my dick. Leave me alone. I got it” You said passing him.

At the bunker-

Dean’s phone vibrated, it was y/n. He could breathe again,

“Where are you?” he said, but all he could hear was you grunting and a guy calling you baby girl.

Dean’s heart dropped, his hand shivering. He picked up the car keys and walked to his car and drove the baby so recklessly. He was ready to crash baby, the anger that filled his veins was terrifying.

At the bar-

Another guy grabbed your wrist. That’s it, you lost it, all the grief all the rage came out and you twisted his arm right back and pinned him against the wall. 

See the thing is you were strong, strong enough to stand up for yourself but maybe not that in control when you are drunk. That other guy came and grabbed you by your hair, jerking you to leave his friend’s throat. He punched you and you punched, kicked and slapped him back. Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering on your head echoed. That bitch.

You lost balance, everything started becoming blurry. Punches and bottles smashing against your head will do that to a girl. As you started falling back, a set of familiar hands got ahold of you and you felt safe. You looked up to see the love of your life, Dean. 

You could see the anger plastered across his face, but his beating chest screamed worry. He helped you stand straight and caressed your face and you passed a smile.

“So, which one of you dicks first,” said Dean while looking at his knuckles

Both of them chuckled and one of them charged at Dean. You laugh, fighting against Dean? Stupid. Dean punched the guy before he could even reach him. Suddenly he was on the floor, and Dean was hovering over him, punching him constantly.

“You ever touch my girl ever again, I will rain down hellfire on you”

You could see the fear in both of their eyes, but Dean could not see that. Dean kept beating him because all he could see is, their hands touching you, touching his girl. That drove him crazy. You ran towards Dean when you couldn’t see the guy moving, the other guy was long gone. You pulled him back, Dean would’ve punched you too, but he knew how your hands felt against his body and suddenly he calmed. You both walk out of the bar, his arms around your shoulder. He sets you down on the seat and knelt in front of you. He saw the blood dripping from your head and the bruise on your cheek. He got up clenching his fist but you pulled him down, you held his face and kissed him, it’s the kiss that calms you down but strong enough to start an apocalypse. 

“I love you” you whispered

“ I love you” he replied

Dean removed your hair from your face and he saw the beauty in you again. You were as beautiful as the moon. He started checking your face for other bruises before his hands landed on yours, to find equally bruised knuckles as him.

Dean lets out a chuckle, “Ahahahah, That’s my girl, and sits beside you in the impala, in the short space you sat and gazed at the stars, but Dean gazed at you.

[deanwinchesterphobic]

spn for the ask game (i mean. what else would i have asked abt)

I reblogged it to this blog specifically to make sure it was spn related and not something else lol

favorite character: Michael!!! He has barely any time on screen but there are so many things that happened to him off screen that I would like to explore. I kind of wish they did in the show but first off: they would ruin it and I would do it better and second off: there wasn't a way to fit anything more about him and Adam in because they only really joined for the second to last episode and what happened before his introduction wouldn't fit in well because we aren't given a lot of information on the angels so it would be weird to give him a full backstory. Jack and Belphegor are contenders though :) I love pretty much every non human character so it is hard to pick.

least favorite character: Dean? Sam? I think Sam is my least favourite because he is so boring and doesn't change and just stays boring and annoying. Dean is a close second though, but I can appreciate the fact that he actually has a personality (as horrible as it is) .

brOTP: Sam and Rowena!! Lots of people ship them but I personally just think they are besties. Also!! Cas and Meg! I think they are sweethearts i think people take their relationship as being either more complicated or as being romantic (as romantic as it can be) but I get reminded of us when I think about them!! Meg is squishing on Cas. Cas is also squishing on her but he has zero fucking clue what that means or would feel like. Simply an oblivious puppy.

OTP: midam(?) Michael and Adam, I think they work really well together and I love the idea of how they managed to come together and like each other. They started off in a really horrible situation, changed each other for the better, and found solace. It's sweet. I like it both platonically and romantically but I lean more towards the romantic aspect.

OT3: I can't think of any, but if I had to pick maybe like, Dean, Benny, and Cas. But not as a throuple, more like Benny just has two boyfriends. I do genuinely ship Dean and Benny, and I think Benny and Cas would get along if they actually got to really know each other.

NOTP: Destiel. Cas deserves so much better than that abusive man whore (derogatory). Enough said.

favorite storyline: Kelly's pregnancy and Jack's birth. They managed to show off Jack's power and how scared everyone is of him, whilst also confirming he isn't a bad person. They used Cars to confirm that though, which is something I like, because as trustworthy as Cas is, he does have a tendency to mess things up while he's trying to help, or to not fully understand situations he is in. I also think Jack was a good way to give Cas a personal sense of purpose.

least favorite storyline: Bobby's time in the after life.

what I wish had happened but didn't: apart from Cas breaking up with Dean? I would have loved for there to be a little bit more subversive experiences with the supernatural beings! They established all Angels (besides a few) are dicks so why not have some more demons that aren't only in it for their own gain? Vampires that only do consensual blood sucking!! More "good" witches. Etc. Etc. I don't want an in depth monster revolution because that would fit in, but if more mentioned how they get treated in passing I think that could be nice. Some vampire said something like "they think they're so much better than us for not drinking blood" (paraphrasal) and I want there to be more of that energy. Some ghoul should criticize Dean's eating habits or something. "Oh? You eat processed meat... Atleast I scavenge" something like that.

what happened that I wish hadn't: for the finale they killed Dean and then had a weird montage with Sam and his son, as well as a montage of Dean driving through heaven, and then it ends with Sam coming back to heaven. I kind of wish they just ended it with Dean dying so that what Jack did wouldn't be confirmed, and neither would Sam's life. I think what they showed is good, Sam has always wanted to leave hunting, Jack would fix things, but I think it would have been nice to have that all be inference based on what we know about the characters instead of having it as a fact. It might have been nice if they still showed Dean meeting Bobby in heaven and then just ended it there, because that would show the type of change Jack did to heaven without telling us you know?

There are a lot of hounarable mentions for the ships and favourite character questions haha.

[ketchupqueenboiiii]

Teen Titans

A/N: Raven, Damian, BB, and Mari are 15-16. Dick, Victor, and Kori are late twenties. Jaime is 17ish. One scene inspired by I Would Like One Family Please, by Celestial_Void_the_3rd on AO3

@maribat-2k20

Marinette and Damian never hid anything from each other. There was never a true reason to. They grew up together, they were developed in incubators next to each other, they received training along with each other. Their chambers were separated by a curtain. They were each other's most trusted confidant.  

Even after they left the League of Assassins, they stuck together. He knew about her being polysexual and her about his desire to try crossdressing. But apparently, that's still not everything.

Marinette was just plainly walking in down a hallway. It was almost dinner time and she wanted to try out a new vegan macaron recipe so they could have it for dessert. She had her freshly printed instructions in hand, still warm from the printer. She was in full chef mode. When she saw it.

Damian, her brother; her twin; her best friend, in full lip-lock with, her crush, Raven.

Not that either know about the last part. Mari had feelings for Raven since they were fourteen and she hadn't acted on them other than having especially rosy cheeks around the empath. You would think she'd pick up on these feeling quickly.

But, alas, not even her brother knew. She couldn't bring herself to say it. Maybe it was her subconscious keeping her from embarrassing herself even further.

The girl slowly retreats, banking on the assumption her brother is too occupied to be aware. Once she was safely out of range, she allowed her self to feel. She darted to her room to change while texting Kori that she was going to be late to dinner. Marinette was on autopilot mode from there on.

She didn't really wake up until she found herself on the roof of Unbe-leaf-able, a vegan restaurant/café they frequent in and out of costume. One of the only places that can really pull off cauliflower crust pizza, too.

She sits on the ledge of a nearby building, unnoticed due to the darkening night and the height of the establishment. Starring down at her unopened take out box, she notices it has several droplets of clear liquid on it. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she raises her hand to tell if its raining. When she determines that it's not, her face grimaces in more confusion.

That's when she notices her face feel wet too. If her hand can't feel the rain why can her-

Oh.

She's crying.

It's been sometime since that happened. She hadn't shed tears since the league, and even then those weren't tears of genuine emotion.  It happened during one of their first missions, they were in an American mall trying to find and kidnap the daughter of an ex-client. He had been late on his payment and they decided to speed up the process.

The ex-client anticipated they'd be targeting him, rightfully so. So he hired a squad of bodyguards for his daughter.

The mission wasn't going very well, they'd been spotted and the guards knew who to look for. After regrouping at the food court, Talia and Damian left to get food, leaving Mari alone at their table. One of the bodyguards must have seen this as an opportunity, and made his way over to her.

Mari was small as a child, she had the face of pure innocence and good. So she was taught how to use that. Improvising, her expression morphed to one of fear, and she held tightly to her bright pink bag; leading any already suspicious onlookers to rise from their chairs.

The guy's ego must have been bigger than him since he didn't seem to falter from their looks. Or maybe he didn't even notice, didn't matter to Mari. He grabbed her arm and she squeaked in faux terror. She had him right were she needed.

"Stranger Danger! I-I don't know him, help-" She wept, forcing herself to tears before he slammed his hand over her mouth seconds too late. This got the attention of almost everyone in the food court, other parents already half way to them. His eyes bulged and he quickly let go trying to calm the situation. But the bystanders had seen enough, and he was on the ground in seconds.

The commotion caught the attention of his fellow guards and they rushed over to the scene.

"Sweetie, it's okay now, the bad man can't hurt you. Do you know where your parents are?" A blonde haired lady asked, kneeling down to her. She wore a peacock feather-inspired barrette and a pale violet dress.

"M-my mama, she, she and my brother went, went, went to go get food." She stuttered as she discreetly tapped a transmitter on her bag strap, informing Talia that the coast was clear to get the daughter.

"Okay, do you want to sit with me and my family while you wait? It's right over there, so when your mama comes back she won't have to look far." The lady said, pointing to a table with three other people. A pale blonde man, a blonde boy who's hair looked more like the lady's, a brown haired man with grey side burns, and a dark haired women with a red streak in her hair. Her hair looked more like Mari's real hair. They must be the lady's family.

But instead of answering her question, Mari corrected her, "It's 'my family and me' not  'me and my family'."

The lady lets out a hearty laugh, "Yes, I suppose it is. You remind me of my husband." She smiles at the girl. "So, would you like to sit with my family for a while?"

She tilted her head, pretending to consider it while really looking over to her mother, who now stands just a few feet away from the were the daughter was. Her eyes held question, should she go; should she not.

Talia noticed her gaze and her question, nodding to her daughter. Mari could have sworn she saw a rare look of pride on Talia, before her face contorted to a blank stare.

"Okay." She answered the blonde lady, taking her open hand.

As she sat at the end of the table, she was instantly hit with the questions of the blonde boy, "Hi, who are you? Are you okay? What's your name?" He lent over the table to talk.

"Oh my, I forgot to introduce my self. I'm sorry, dear," she apologized, "My name is Emily, that's Gabriel; my husband, that's Natalie; our personal assistant-slash-family friend, that's Adrien; our son, and that's Elliot or as Adrien calls him; Gorilla. He's his bodyguard." Mari nods, shyly looking at each of them. "So what's your name, sweetie?"

The boy had been staring at her since she got to their table, he looked at her patiently, waiting for her answer.

"Bridgette."

Mari had always liked undercover missions, nothing was ever real. She could be anyone and do what ever without worrying about meeting them again. She once spent a year in Paris, undercover as Maria, she even saw the same boy from missions ago and he didn't recognize her at all. She faked her death once they had successfully gotten rid of the ambassador's daughter.

Oh, what Mari wouldn't give for this to all be fake. For her to be able to forget the kiss, to forget everyone in the tower and move on to the next mission. Maybe some place in the Caribbean-

"Hey." She jumped at the new voice, but didn't reach for a weapon. It was a familiar voice. Maybe even a trusted one.

"Hey, Gar," she didn't turn around, couldn't. Even after months of brattiness, she had earned his respect. Showing the weakness of tears would effectively erase any progress she had. Hastily, she wiped her face with the napkin that came with her meal, attempting to calm herself down to look presentable. "What are you doing here?" She asked.

"Kori told us you were eating out. I volunteered to check it out," He answered before laughing bitterly, "Damian gave me the stink eye, though. Like he's got any place to judge." He muttered the last part. "Can I sit with you, Mars?"

"No." She said, sounding all like the stuck up heiress she was.

"Please." He stretched out the vowel. Mari could hear the pout in his voice, and saw it on him in his dog form. She sighed as turned to lean against the border of the building. There was a three-foot wall on the roof, probably to keep anyone on it from falling. It didn't matter to Mari or Gar, both had fallen from farther and survived.

She nodded mutely for him to go over to her. If she counted out Damian, the closest Titan to her would be Gar.

They sat like that for a while, changing position to one more comfortable every now and then. By the time Mari spoke up, she was leaning on his shoulder with his arm around her waist. It was getting really dark and they hadn't touched the food she order yet.

"So, you saw the kiss?" Mari whispered. She noticed his bitterness towards her brother, normally she would have defended him but she let it slide this time.

"Yeah," Gar whispered back, "What's got you so down, Mars?"

She hesitated, he didn't know. He didn't have to know, she could make up a lie and ignore her feelings. Bury them down, just like she did in the league. But he was trustworthy, she knew that, "Same as you." She gulped nervously.

Instead of acting on his surprise, he laughs, "Oh man, the irony. Three roomies liking the same girl? Classic." But then he sobers down and leans his head back on hers, and mumbles, "Sucks for the two sobs who don't get the girl, amiright?"

She lets herself laugh cry, "Oh yeah, sucks a lot," her shoulders shake as she laughs, " 'specially when the one who gets the girl is your brother."

"Mhm," he hums in agreement, "Never seen you so distraught, Mars, is it really all about the kiss? Or is it because we couldn't have our biweekly Ultimate Mecha Strike Five tournament yesterday?" He smirked playfully. One of the best things about Gar was that he always made it clear you didn't have to answer his questions, he gave easy outs.

Yeah, would be the answer to anyone other than him, he gave her an excuse not to answer, why doesn't she use it, It just, really threw me off. It's okay though, I'll get over it in a week.

"No." She responded. She doesn't use the easy out. She doesn't need it, "I. I, I guess I always expected it. The part were only one of us can have something, not the kiss its self," she corrected, "did not expect that. We always knew that someday, it would come down to one. Only one of us could ascend to Demon's Head. We knew, they knew, Mother knew. We spent our lives preparing for it. Yet this all feels so surreal."

Not knowing anything to say to comfort his friend, Gar simply held her in a tighter squeeze.

After a few more minutes in their position, he asked, "So... We gonna start eating or is the food just meant to go cold?"

She smiled and bummed their legs, "You dumbass."

"It's a valid question!"

[omniscientoranges]

Hold My Hand On the Way Out

Idea's been done to death but I'm thinking,,, thinking,,, Dean goes to save Cas from the Empty but Cas doesn't think he's real at first. Yeah. That's what I'm thinking.

1.5k words

[ao3]

Dean trips slightly on the way out of the portal. That's probably because Sam sighed and pushed him in when he turned back and started to say something like you know, maybe I'm not the best guy for the job? Maybe you should go or Jack cou-. Dean doesn't blame him for that, really. He knows he was being overdramatic, but it's not every day a guy hurls himself into an endless void to save his currently dead best friend (who might also be the love of his life but, one thing at a time). 

It looks like he's standing on a whole lot of nothing, which gives him vertigo for a second before he remembers that nothing is really the whole point of this place. Still doesn't make him any less queasy, though. 

"Cas?" Dean shouts into the void. Which is ridiculous, shouting into a literal limitless nothing and hoping Cas hears him. But it's the only play he's got, so: "Cas! You out there? Come on, man, I'm praying, okay? Cas!" 

"Dean?" 

Dean spins on his heels and breathes a sigh of relief when his eyes fall on Cas, standing like a monolith against the stark black Empty surrounding them. That worked way faster than he expected it to. 

"Shit, hey, there you are. Look, I'm here to-" 

"Stop it." Cas responds. And he actually looks- scared? Angry? Upset? 

"What?" 

"Stop doing this to me. I know he's not real, I know you're not real. Stop toying with me like this. You said I could rest, this is cruel, even for you." 

Even for you, what is Cas talking about? Sure, yeah, Dean can be a dick, but he's not that big of a dick. Is he? "What? Cas I-" 

"Stop, please just- just leave me alone." Cas all but whimpers saying that, and that's when it clicks in Dean's head. He thinks he's the Empty. Or some manifestation of it. He thinks Dean's not real. Jesus, what has this place been doing to him? 

"No, it's me. Cas, it's me, really." 

"I know you're lying." 

"I'm not lying I-" Dean turns and scrubs a hand down his face, "What can I do to make you believe me?" 

Cas just shakes his head and closes his eyes, looking away with pain etched on his face. 

"Cas, look at me please," he doesn't know why, but Cas looks up. "It's me. I promise." 

But Dean's looking at Cas and Cas doesn't see him. Just looks right past him. No, not quite past him - just looks at him like he's not him. Like he's a fake. A ghost. 

It sucks. Fully, fully sucks. Dean didn't realize that there was this pit in his chest that only felt whole whenever Cas was looking at him, but he really gets that now. And Dean's heart beats a hard rhythm against that pit and it makes his breath come out stilted, makes it hardly come out at all. He wants to sob, or scream, or hit something or get hit. He feels likes everything's closing in around him and he never realized how it could feel to have everything you could ever want standing right in front of you only for it to look back at you like you aren't anything, like you aren't fucking real and it's- it's- it's-

"I love you." 

Dean says it softly, reverently. In a way that doesn't convey that it feels like the words tear out of him, rip from his throat- rip from his heart. Because that's what Cas is to him now. He's his heart. 

"And I- I always did, always have. Don't you know that? But no, you didn't know. That's the whole point. You didn't know, but, Cas, I've been yours the whole time. You've had me the whole time. And I can't believe you didn't know that. I can't believe I never had the guts to tell you before. But-" And Dean's pacing, he's determined to lay it all out because he needs Cas to know this time. He needs him to really understand. Needs him. Fullstop, if he's being honest. And, right now, he is. 

"It's you. Always. You're it for me. No one else, Cas, no one. I need you. I love you, do you hear me?" Dean's stepping into Cas' space, bringing both his hands up to either side of his face, like if he holds him there and makes him look and really listen that he'll hear it. That he'll understand it. That Dean’s right here and that he was always worth it, to Dean he was always worth it. 

"I love you, you stupid son of a bitch, I love you." Maybe he can fix it if he says it enough, says those three words enough, repeats them like a mantra, like a fucking heartbeat in his head. I love you I love you I love you. Dean's pretty sure he's said I love you more times in the last 2 minutes than he's said it in the rest of his whole life combined. 

Cas is still looking past him, hopeless. So, once more with feeling. "Cas, Castiel, please listen to me. I love you too." 

Dean leans in and seals his lips over Cas'. 

Cas doesn't move to kiss back, and Dean almost cries out with the sharp wave of pain that sends through him. Please, please, this has to be enough. It's all I have. This has to be enough. Please. 

With a jolt, Dean feels Cas' hand tentatively brush his elbow, then reach up, up, and fit perfectly onto his left shoulder. And that's it. Cas moves his other arm and wraps it behind Dean's neck, pulling him in closer, kissing him deeper. One of Dean's hands trails from Cas' face and curls into the lapel of his too-heavy trench coat. 

When they pull apart it's not because they need to breathe, it's because they feel like if they kiss any more they'll shatter under the weight of it. This thing- this love that's been between them for so long finally coming to the surface. It's entirely too much. It's entirely not enough. Dean unfists Cas' coat and smooths out the wrinkles, Cas lets the arm wrapped behind Dean's head fall and slip around his waist instead. 

"It's really you?" 

"'Course it is, you expecting someone else?" 

"Dean," Cas breathes out. And that's a sentence in and of itself - just Dean. The way Cas says it like a prayer, like a promise, like a goddamn benediction. Like Dean's the holy one in this equation. Dean's hit with the realization that there's nothing different in the way Cas said his name just then compared to any time before that - that he's always been Dean. That he's always been loved. 

Somewhere caught up in an epiphany and half Dean finds a second to register they should probably - very quickly - get the hell out of there. 

Dean slides his palm from Cas' cheek, down his arm, and twines their fingers together. "Cas, come on, we gotta go," and nods his head at the flickering yellow line of a portal a few paces behind him. 

Cas trains his eyes on the portal, and looks a bit skeptical. "Are you sure it'll work?" 

"If it doesn't then I'll keep coming back here until it does work, or until the Empty gets so sick of me that it either kills me or tosses us both outta here on principle," Dean says. His brazen recklessness has Cas making a face that Dean knows means he's doing everything in his power not to roll his eyes. But it's fond, it's so, so fond, and Dean can't believe he never saw it before. How much Cas truly loves him - loves every stupid, reckless part of him. How much Cas loves all of him.

Dean grins, "Either way, I'm not leaving here without you."  And, oh, that's familiar. This is something they've done before, the two of them - pulling each other out of impossible situations. Done it more than once, actually. 

"So what, I'm Eurydice and you're Orpheus and we're just supposed to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?" Cas says, trying and failing to hide a smile because not only is he making an accurate pop culture reference but he's also making an accurate Dean reference. Double points. 

"Yep, exactly." 

"You're insufferable." 

"Yeah, but you love me anyway." 

Cas' eyes soften, "I really do." 

Dean, since apparently he's reverted back to being a 16 year old, blushes at how earnest Cas is when he says that. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come on, let's go." 

"Lead the way." 

Dean leads, hand reaching back and gripping Cas' so firmly he knows the skin's going paler where their hands link. Maybe it's the mythology reference Cas just made or maybe it's something else, but Dean doesn't let himself look back. They pause for a second when they reach the portal. If there was anyone to pray to Dean would pray with every part of himself that this works. Instead, he just hopes it does. 

A step, a bright light, a dimmer light, the sound of shoes hitting reinforced concrete, a portal closing behind him, a hand still- blissfully still in his. Dean turns around. 

"I guess it worked," Cas beams. 

Dean doesn't stop to think before he's kissing Cas again. Afterall, they've got a lot of time to make up for.

[bonniebird]

Stiles x Winchester!Reader

Requested by @supernerdycookietrashblr

You hated this. It’d been an easy hunt and the cop who had decided he wanted to help you hunt the monster messed up. He panicked and the ghost got away. Now you’d been possessed and it sucked. It was like being underwater. You could see everything, hear everything but you weren’t in control.

Unfortunately you hadn’t quite figured out why the ghost was possessing people and now you’d have to wait for your brothers to figure out something was wrong. Dean would take some convincing to let you go off on your own again after this. The ghost knew how to drive which meant it could either hear your thoughts and was ignoring you or it had been born during a time period that hard cars which didn’t help you at all. You still made a note of it. There wasn’t much else you could do.

The sign post for Beacon Hills blurred past the car. You’d planned on dropping by to see Stiles after your hunt. It wasn’t easy keeping the fact that you were a hunter secret. Or that fact that you were a Winchester quiet. Peter was easier to bribe into silence than Derek. Stiles and his friends weren’t exactly fond of hunters. Each time you planned on telling him he had to rush off to go and help his friends. Then, there was the flip side. How could you tell your brothers that your long distance boyfriend was hanging around with a crew of supernaturals. One of whom, Peter of course, had caused issues for Dean before.

Sam would freak out more about the supernatural bit than Dean, who would probably try and scare Stiles off. It was easier to keep everything separate. Until now. A shrill irritating sound filled the car. After a few minutes it cut off and started again. You hadn’t checked in with your brothers. Now they’d be looking for you. The car pulled up and you. Rather the ghost got out of the car and headed into a dinner where it sat and waited. It was on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, near the woods so few people came regularly. Of course this would be the moment when Stiles and his friend Scott walked in.

“(Y/N)!” Stiles said cheerfully when he spotted you. His eyes immediately narrowed when you didn’t move or even respond. “Hey, it’s me, Stiles! Your boyfriend?”

Again nothing happened, you strained as hard as you could to move something, anything. But the ghost just used your body to stare Stiles down and sit perfectly still. When something cold and thick trickled from your ear you wanted to shudder, wipe it away. But it just oozed down your earlobe. Being possessed by ghosts was officially more gross than that time Crowly needed to possess you.

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

“Still can’t get through.” Dean grumbled as he sped up.

“Dean, maybe she just… went off somewhere.” Sam offered as he looked over the map in his hands. Dean didn’t say anything for a moment. Even when you needed a break you at least told them where you were heading.

“I say we start with that wolf town.”

“Dean… we don’t know that she hangs around with the werewolves there. Besides the last place she went was a couple towns over dealing with… I think she texted asking about spirit possession.”

Dean slammed on the brakes for a moment and glanced at Sam. “You’re sure?”

“Yes I’m sure and I think she’d be fine. Besides she’s seen us both get rid of ghosts and spirits so she knows what she’s doing.” Sam blabbered quickly. Dean started driving again and followed his brother’s directions to the motel you’d been at.

An irritable Sheriff was waiting outside your room. “You the ones that are crazy b…”

“Watch it.” Dean said gruffly.

“Sorry, she claimed she knew what she was doing then when I try and help she started hollering that I was in the way then took off without another word.” The sheriff complained.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other. Ghost possession they seemed to decide without another word. “You see where she took off too?” Dean asked as Sam went to fetch the spare key to your room.

“Yeah, drove off towards Beacon Hills.” The Sheriff said after some thought. Dean thanked him and waited as Sam jogged back over. They could see from the state of your room that you’d been mid hunt.

“Looks like she’d almost figured out who it was.” Sam observed as he looked at your notes.

“She protected herself… look at this.” Dean moved the duvet on the motel bed and they could see the salt ring around it. “Sheriff said he insisted on helping, and didn't think (Y/N) should be going around alone… Idiot probably got in the way.”

Sam hummed in agreement as he read over your notes. Your laptop was sat next to the notebook and after an hour of digging he’d found who was possessing you. “Now we just gotta find her.” Dean muttered as he packed up your things, putting them in the back of the Impala. They headed to the graveyard on the way out, salting and burning the bones for good measure, hoping they’d gotten it right before heading to Beacon Hills.

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

Peter and Derek had found you in the woods. You’d screamed as the ghost practically burned it’s way out of you. Derek was only as kind as he needed to be while Peter hoisted you over his shoulder and lugged you to Stiles’ house. You’d fallen asleep when Peter left you. What he’d said to them you had no idea. But Stiles was nervously hopping one foot to the other in the Stilinski’s spare bedroom.

“Are you ok?” Stiles asked quietly when you sat up.

“Yeah, I’m so much better now.” You grumbled out in one huffed breath. He looked nervous and you realised you hadn’t meant your tone to sound quite so sarcastic. “You didn’t need to worry.”

“You were acting really weird.” Stiles murmured awkwardly. When you winced as you tried to get up Stiles rushed over to help.

“Peter said something attacked you. We can help find it…” Stiles offered as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say to you.

“That’s ok. I think my brothers got it.”

“Oh… I didn’t know they knew about that kind of stuff.”

As Stiles sat at the end of the bed there was a soft whooshing sound and Castiel appeared in front of you. Stiles squeaked and you were sure if he hadn’t sat beside you on the bed he might have fainted.

“Hey Cas, I’m fine.” You said with a sigh.

“Are you sure? Dean told me to heal you if you were hurt.” Cas said quickly. He gave Stiles a curious look for a moment.

“I’m fine. I’m guessing they’re on their way?”

“They’re interrogating the Hale wolf… the big one.” With that he vanished.

“That… what… Is he talking about Peter or Derek?” Stiles spluttered out and looked worried. He glanced at you then jumped up. “Did he just say Dean and you said Cas isn’t that the angel that the Winchester captured?”

“We didn’t capture him… he just sort of forgot to go home while keeping an eye on my brother.” You said nonchalantly.

“You! You’re a Winchester!” Stiles accused.

“Sure… I mean Sam and Dean are my half siblings but I’m a Winchester in the sense that my dad is John Winchester and I hunt bad things.”

“Bad things? The Winchesters hunt everything.”

“Well… I mean sure. It’s not like we hunt good things. You know like Scott, we leave your lot alone. Although Dean would like the chance to hunt Peter. Sam says not to ask about that.” You blabbered on, watching as Stiles backed away as if you’d strike at him any second. “I wanted to tell you but I wasn’t sure how.”

“Maybe ‘hey Stiles me and my brothers hunt things like your friends for sport wanna hang out?’” Stiles said quickly as he flailed.

“Hey!” You snapped and stood up, frowning at Stiles. “We’re not the Argents! My brothers have helped werewolves and other things. They once went into like limbo to help a reaper move a kid on.”

“What!” Stiles said as he tried to figure out what you’d said.

“You know if you needed help and I asked them they would help.” You said huffily. 

“Can we interrupt?” Dean asked from the doorway. Stiles eyed him nervously. Dean didn’t bother introducing himself to Stiles, he just headed straight to you to check on you. Sam made a big show of being friendly to Stiles who seemed to warm up to him.

“So… Cas said you were talking to…”

“Drop it.” Dean said quickly. Sam raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

“You know Peter might have saved me from being alone, passed out in the woods which are full of supernatural creatures.” You pointed out. Dean glared and shook his head.

“Peter is kind of a dick.” Stiles said quietly. Dean looked at him and nodded.

“I like that kid.” He said quickly.

“Of course you do. He hates Peter, likes dinner food and wears plaid.” You said quickly and Dean nodded, holding his hand out for Stiles to shake.

“Dean, (Y/N)’s bigger brother.” Dean said quickly. You could see Stiles glanced at Sam as he struggled to bury the urge to point out that he might be the oldest brother, but he was by no means the biggest.

“Would you like to stay for dinner? I’ve heard about you at a police convention from a cop… think she was from Minisota? It’d be helpful to have some… constructive advice on the supernatural.” Stiles’ dad said from the doorway. You gave Sam a pleading look and you both looked at Dean who nodded.

“Sure, happy to help.” Dean said with a smile that said if you and Sam make me stay here longer than I have too, I will be complaining!”

“Oh, I’ll summon Cas!” You said happily.

“The angel? We’re having an angel for dinner?” Stiles asked quickly, almost whispering as if he couldn’t believe it.

“He is family… If you’d prefer I could summon Crowley but he’d probably bring his hellhound.”

“Oh! We’ve got one of those, he works for my dad!” Stiles piped up a little as he led the way downstairs where some of the McCall pack had gathered nervously.

“They have hellhounds?” Dean hissed to you. You shrugged and went to great Lydia who seemed more than happy that you were back to normal.

[unhinderedramblinglass]

So I am literally just speculating but something does not sit right with me about this last season. It doesn’t sit right with a lot of people but here’s my thing:

-knowing this is going to be the last season (I don’t know when they announced it but it was pretty early) and you went in, you started plot lines in s14 that would continue into s15 that just... didn’t go anywhere.

-you brought characters in and back for storylines that only fit to further the boys’ plotline, which would have been fine if you didn’t insist on killing them right after when the fandom has been asking you for years ‘please stop killing my faves’

-one of your actors, who’s been trying to convince you for years, goes full down knock down drag out for one whole ‘I love you’ scene to canonically make him gay (which you’ve been denying for years and made him sleep with women) and you decide to pepper little things throughout the entire season that shows Cas and Dean feel more for each other than just friendship. And instead of making Dean reciprocate, you kill him because of literary symmetry that stopped being relevant to the story in s4 or s5

-you then started a bunch of plot lines (and here is where it REALLY gets me) that were good this season. That were leading you up to the finale. And then you got to the middle of it. AND IT ALMOST SEEMS LIKE YOU JUST DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH YOUR CHARACTERS OF 15 YEARS SO YOU JUST DECIDED TO THROW OUT AT LEAST 9-10 YEARS WORTH OF CHARACTER GROWTH IN ORDER FOR IT TO REALLY ALL TIE TOGETHER ( I mean, come on. They did a whole ass episode bout why being normal sucks and then all they wanted at the end WAS TO BE NORMAL I CANT EVEN THIS SHOW WAS EVERYWHERE THIS SEASON)

-and then you just LITTER the season with meta and foreshadowing (Dean and Cas in purgatory, Dean and Cas ‘what’s real about any of it?’ ‘We are’, Sam and Eileen not knowing if it’s real and breaking up because of it ((which didn’t even matter come sam wanting to get his dick wet but I digress 🙃)) and then you have Garth who got to live, his episode is ‘the heroes journey’ and he ends up safe, happy, still settled with his wife LIKE A MIRROR FOR OUR BOYS) and then you just DECIDE THAT NONE OF THAT MATTERS

-and then you did exactly what we asked you not to do for years. No matter how many times we all said ‘we want to see the boys happy, together, all three of them. We want them together as a family, even Jack too and Claire and the wayward sisters, we literally wanted everyone safe, happy, alive.’ So it doesn’t matter which ending they were going to give us, it was always going to end in a way we never wanted or asked for. They literally heard... okay. We kill the boys. And then everyone, even if they aren’t dead yet... will be in Dean’s heaven. That sounds right. EXCEPT THE PEOPLE THAT WE WOULD HAVE WANTED THERE, THAT WOULD HAVE MADE IT REDEEMABLE FOR US (Samantha Ferris, Chad Lindberg, Osric, etc) WERE NEVER GOING TO BE THERE. it was going to be filled with his abusive father, a mother that we fleshed out and mourned for a second (or third I can’t remember) time, a vessel of the guy that very much tried everything to get away from you and your brother and this life and was super not okay with it and only did it to save his daughter but sure, he cares about you, and the actual fucking band Kansas. Who isn’t even dead!

So you did that. You did all that. And so here’s where i absolutely eat fire. Besides wanting to know why on earth this was done to our show after years of asking them not to, I want to know why it nearly felt like they were setting us up for another season. They knew that s15 would be the last way before they started writing. They had the time to write this well thought out ending and they could have taken it so many ways. They could have closed a loop, they could have tried again with the spinoff as I’m sure it would be phenomenal now. But everything they did, every plot hole and plot line they opened and never closed again... feels like it should have been a set up for s16. Now maybe I have too much anger and this was done accidentally, but I don’t think so.

Now I want to add a disclaimer that there a no proof here, I’m speculating, of course. And there were never rumors about a s16. But with the way the season went, I can’t help but wonder if someone had already planned for one. And when j2m said no, we’re gonna hang it up, it fucked a lot of peoples plans of this show being their cash cow. Now, it’s completely possible that the writers are just bad as this show has given us some doozies before. maybe they recycled plot had they been planning for a s16 but Cas’ declaration scene was the first thing to be written so... I doubt that.

But here’s my thing alright, and if you’re already here with me, guys, stay with me: why would you leave all these open ends knowing there will be no other season, throw away all this character growth you’ve been writing and telling the fans about for 15 years, and do exactly what the fans asked you not to and leave them separated and stuck on blood when for years you’ve been telling us ‘family don’t end in blood’?

It was a fuck you. It was a big fuck you to everyone involved. And I don’t mean just to the fans, which is exactly what it was to all the people that asked for them to end up alive and happy (so most of us). Again, I say, I’m speculating but it sounds to me like producers, show runners, went out of their way to make this season not make any sense. To make it bad (the fight with Dean and Cas having been written more sad than angry, the way we had an entire holiday episode for the first time in a while but without Cas, the way they literally told us the ending in beckys scene and then had the nerve to make fun of the GOT ending, I won’t even mention saileen again, the way they knew it would only reach about 30% as a good ending). It sounds to me like someone was being a petty bitch. And especially towards Jensen and Misha. Going back to look at this season, those two boys were put through the ringer and were put at the forefront of our screens and made to go outside of their character especially in the last few episodes, and yet it was all a plot device for Sam to live on.

Jensen who went tooth and nail for his characters ending and hated it (even the original one because I’m pretty sure it was pitched to him precovid) got a car ride for the send off to his character. Misha who fought for Cas to be queer for years got to die and have 12 years of love be for nothing (as dean dies a week later). These are the two that have been trying to tell the show who their character really is for years. If you go back and watch panels, Jensen has been trying to tell them for years where he thought his character should go and he said multiple times that it got swept under. He said he left the meeting feeling drained and they told him he was too close to the story. Bitch, he’s Dean!

I can only speculate that Jared didn’t have as much back and forth with the writers and show runners, but I don’t actually know. I’ve seen a panel in which he said he’s done that stuff but they’ve literally either not listened or done the opposite so I have a feeling he stopped trying so hard after a while. But I can take a guess, after hearing what Jared said at his panel about the ending being good and right, that they brainwashed him just a little to believe that this is the ending they’d always been fighting for. They say forget AKF, forget pretty much all the growth you’ve had for the past few seasons and he had to go along with it. I can also speculate that with the new show coming out they were like ‘shhh this will be good for your ratings’.

TL; DR: I think the show runners/ producers purposefully set us up with a bad season because the producers/show runners are petty bitches and they broke our boys to do it.

[herstarburststories]

Treacherous

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

Summary: You finally fall for Demon!Dean's charm and give yourself to him.

Warnings: oral sex (male receiving), language, smasgt.

You grimaced when your feet touched the cold ground of your bedroom, although it was still strange to think about that place as such. After all, it had been years sleeping and not sleeping in a room shared with Dean. To glare at the walls and not to find any rock bands posters or accidentally trip on one of his adult magazines was at the bare minimum. But then, there was nothing you could do about that. Accepting a demon version of your boyfriend’s invitation to stay in your and Dean’s old room was completely out of limits.

Dean, or his demon self, as you needed to remind yourself more than you’d like to admit, was living in the bunker again after an unsuccessful attempt of curing him. Castiel had said that maybe the cure didn’t work out as all of you intended, but it could’ve somehow reminded him of humanly emotions in a deeper sense. 

Cas had been resting in the bunker more than usual just to make sure that you and Sam were safe. When he wasn’t there, the angel would be busy looking for another way to cure the eldest Winchester. You and Sam had been searching as much as possible, outside of Dean’s protests against it.

‘’Personally, I like the disease. Come on, guys. I’m still me, just better,” he had said right before he started looking for a new case.

Shaking your head, you rose up from the bed. The clock appointed two in the AM, reporting your obvious insomnia. A sigh escaped from your lips as you walked out the door, silently pacing towards the kitchen. Perhaps a cup of water would help. If you were lucky, the chocolate bar you had left in the fridge would be there still.

The frosty breeze from the refrigerator on your face was near to a midnight relief, which caused you to smile softly. Its light was your only company while you looked for the forgotten chocolate bar, until a deep voice spoke: ‘’You have been avoiding me, sweetheart.’’ 

You turned around with a swift move, mildly surprised by his sudden presence. Dean smirked at you, half of his face concealed by the darkness that the refrigerator light couldn’t reach.

You huffed. ‘’It’s two in the morning, and I just came to get some water, Dean. Let’s not start it.’’

‘’But I wanna start it, (Y/N). Come on, it’s been days.’’ Out of nowhere, he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, the blackish shadows enveloping both of you. You gasped, placing your hands on his chest to separate you two.

‘’Let me go!’’ You groaned at Dean, pushing him away, but it didn’t have any effect. If anything, he only pulled you closer. You couldn't see anything in the dark. Yet, it wasn’t quite necessary. His breath hitting your cheek was warning enough of how close he was.

‘’I get it, (Y/N). You miss the good ol’ Dean, but he is gone for good, sweetheart. I’m all that’s left. Don’t you miss me enough to want me like this?’’

Before your answer, he held you. Pressing his body to yours, you felt his semi erect cock against you. You pursed your lips together in an attempt to keep the clear pleasure of feeling his body to yourself. You didn’t need to give him such satisfaction. Besides, he wasn’t your Dean.

He wasn’t your Dean, you had to remind yourself. What was pretty complicated considering how close you were, and how many wonderful memories were attached to similar situations.

‘’What? Cat got your tongue?’’ Dean smirked, moving his hips against yours. A weak moan left your lips. He grinned, leaning him to lick your neck with no scruples. ‘’Or demon did?’’ Although his voice remained harsh and deadly sexy, even his tune had changed. The way he laughed was treacherous, like everything about a demon was supposed to be. You should be scared. You should be mad. You should be anything but attracted to what once was your loving Dean. People didn’t see a demon and fantasize about getting in bed with them. They ran away and started searching for a religious solution to protect them. Right now, it seemed like you were praying to stay with the devil.

Deep down, it was him. There was a fragile, tiny voice in your mind that insisted for you to believe that. He was still your Dean, damaged as fuck, but the man you had loved for years. All your rationality told you to run away, to push him, scream at him until Sam woke up, just so you wouldn’t have a way near Dean again. You had been doing it with ease for three days, but it was only getting harder.

And this Dean made sure that your self control wasn’t the only thing getting harder. His clothed boner was still pressed against you. It grew more excited as he bit your neck, right on the sweet spot where most of his marks were left behind before.

You sniffled softly, which could be easily misunderstood by a low moan. He felt like your Dean. He looked like your Dean. He had your Dean’s memories. But he didn’t laugh like your Dean. He didn’t touch you like him, either. He was more assertive, certainly rougher. Even his mouth on your neck right now showed that. Still, he was too close. After months. He was here. Not quite the Dean you cried endless tears for, but it was enough for tonight.

You needed it. You needed Dean Winchester in whatever shape he would come. No one could point fingers at you for that; they didn’t know what it was like. He could not be your Dean, but he could love you like he did. And if that wasn't possible, he could fuck you like Dean used to.

Unseen tears rolled on your cheeks as you pushed him to the wall. You didn’t dare to make any further noise. It took Dean a second to understand what was going on, but an ill-natured smirk conquered his features when he did. He surely as hell had a good amount of memories on how you enjoyed sucking him off back then, as much as he loved eating you out for records. Your knees met your ground like a prayer’s would, but you weren’t looking for forgiveness. Pretty the opposite, you jumped right in the sin. There was no one, not even a higher power that could stop or help you now. You had crossed the line as you unzipped his pants and got rid of his jeans as fast as possible. 

‘’You have no idea how much I missed your mouth, sweetheart.’’

When your lips touched the tip of his hardness, you didn’t feel any relief. It wasn’t a matter of just wanting to have sex with him. It was a necessity. Much like an addict getting another dose of the drug, there was no heavenly, rose-colored feeling. It was just a fulfilment of a need. You needed him, and who could blame you for that? After all you had been through, after fighting every instinct in your body to keep a safe distance, after seeing him die and come back only to lose him again. Maybe the Winchester was your perdition, like many people had told you before in a futile attempt to give friendly advice. Maybe you had achieved the limit or love had ultimately made you crazy.

Your body was shaking in abstinence as you finally put his trembling cock inside your mouth, not taking time to lick the drop of precum like you usually did to tease Dean before doing what he wished. His eyes were closed, head resting against the wall as he bit his lower lip. His precum was being cleaned up by your experienced tongue moving around his length. Your hand grabbed what wasn’t in your mouth yet, moving it up and down to make him more excited.

‘’Fuck, (Y/N). Do it, get all of me in that pretty little mouth of yours. You always loved it, didn’t you?’’ Dean’s groans were an evident desire for you to give him more, but, on your knees, it seemed like you were the one begging. Begging him to stay, to love you, to give you anything to hold on to. And if sex in the kitchen while Sam was sleeping and Castiel was doing an angelic version of rest was it, then so fucking be it. 

You coughed a bit as you got more of his dick in your mouth, until your hand was completely replaced. You moaned against his cock when it hit the back of your throat. It only incentivized him even more. Dean’s hand finally found your hair, his fingers running through the (Y/H/C) sea as he asserted the rhythm. As you expected, he was fast, rough. Just what you needed.

After everything that happened to him, since the mark of Cain to his resurrection into a demon, you had been broken. And all your tiny, little pieces together were looking for him. Now, your mind was long gone, and all you knew was Dean Winchester. He was there. He was alive. He was with you again.

You sucked his cock, trying to follow his lead as much as you could without choking. Your tongue swirling around, up, and down his length. The grip on your hair tighter as he increased the pace, searching for his climax. Your pussy was a wet mess since you got on the ground for him, but you allowed your hand to slip into your panties and rub your clit as your mouth was fucked by Dean. 

‘’Fuck, (Y/N). I’m coming. Will you be my good girl and swallow all of it?’’ Dean continued moving your head and his hips violently, your fingers caressing yourself as his cock bumped your throat carelessly. He was almost there, and so were you.

Your name left his lips in the form of a loud howl. It almost didn’t sound human. Well, it could always be the demon in him. His semen invaded your mouth as soon as your hands got dirty with your own climax, and all in your head was him, his name, the feeling that always accompanished his touches. You couldn't help but want him to keep close to you, a vivid reminder that he was there. He pulled away from you, and you almost whined, wanting to crawl closer to him. Fortunately, Dean didn’t plan on being apart from you for more than a few seconds, soon leaning forward to grab your jaw. The perfect angle for the refrigerator light to brighten his face. He looked at you through his lashes, indigo eyes dark with desire.

‘’Swallow all of it, (Y/N),” he commanded, as if you weren’t gonna do it anyway. You simply nodded, swallowing every single drop of his cum. That orgasm, though, didn’t feel as much like liberation as it should’ve. It felt like falling from grace. A sweet, tasty fall, but still. ‘’Open your mouth, let me see if you did as I told you. You always loved being my spicy, stubborn girl.’’ Dean pressed your jaw with his fingers. You opened your mouth for him, sticking your tongue out, only to gain a satisfied smile from the currently green-eyed man. ‘’What do we have here?’’ He grabbed your hand and pulled it closer to his lips, vivid eyes glaring at you as if he had caught a little kid doing something wrong. ‘’You were touching yourself, sweetheart? And came just from it and sucking me? How dirty.’’ Dangerously soft laughter echoed from his body but was soon ended when he licked your fingers, enjoying your taste. How he had missed you. ‘’Delicious, as always. You know what’s better? All of it just for me.’’

The refrigerator noises made the anthem for the moment you had sure you had lost your mind. What was done was done. Whatever it took, you couldn't lose him. Not again. You needed him.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: A Helping Hand {Headcanon}***

Jason Momoa x Reader

Warning: Cursing, NSFW, Fluff, SMUT

Words: 2.1k

***Loosley Edited/Proofread***

Have you seen Jason’s fingers? Have you? Have you taken a good look at this Hawaiian God’s fingers? Jason stands at six feet four inches. He weighs over two hundred pounds and he is all rock-hard chiseled muscle, and pure charisma and charm.

Sitting with the other members of his team that charisma and charm were on full display. This meeting was a monthly brief to discuss Jason’s schedule, potential business deals, incoming roles, and other tidbits that impacted his career. 

You finished your portion of the meeting as his stylist. You went over every important function for the next month and his schedule as it pertained to your access to him. You sat across from him in the leather seat when you were finished. Jason had his fingers steepled under his chin as he kept his eyes glued to you.

For business meetings like these, he liked to put his long bi-colored hair into a manageable man bun. It was your suggestion, one meant to play with his look and the messages he sent with that look.

Your job was to make him look good at all times. In the three years, you’d been his stylist you hadn’t failed at that job not even once. He always looked amazing, good enough to eat.

An hour later everyone shook hands and prepared to leave while having a little small talk. You had things to do so you slipped out of the conference room and walked down to your office. Once inside you began arranging the deliveries of clothes you’d gotten just that morning. Your office looked like a bomb went off in a closet. To the outside eye, it looked like chaos but to you, it was chaotic organization.

As you draped pants, button downs, belts, scarves and other garments over the long table to the right of the room you got on a video call with your apprentice who was currently scouting some new pieces for you. you gave the okay on the pieces you liked while remaining focused on your agenda for the day. You were so wrapped up in your work you weren’t aware of anything else.

“How do you find anything in here?” Jason stood by the door with an amused grin on his face. Setting your side of the video call dark you turned to him and gave him a small smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, this is completely organized.” Jason scoffed and casually locked the door before he walked to you. you look back to your phone to see the next few items your apprentice posted and quickly assessed them and decided. 

“I think I’ll need more convincing on that outfit you sent to the house last night.” His voice is deep, rough and the spark that turned you on. He was behind you, you could feel his presence.

You tapped mute on your end but before you turned he pressed his body against you. You weren’t expecting it and it makes you moan. Jason wraps his hand around you to rest his palm right at your pubis.

“I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of you all morning.” You know it’s true. Every move you made you felt his eyes on you. Every circle you made around the room you felt the heat of his pupils burning off the clothes you had on.

“Maybe you should have tried harder.” You tried to walk away but he held you steady and firm then you felt his lips at the nape of your neck. You stifled your moan by sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

“You mean as hard as you’re trying right now to pretend you don’t want me?”

Damn him, you thought. Jason grazed his teeth on your skin before he gently bit your neck. You couldn’t fight the moan and a small mewl escaped you. You could feel Jason’s smile before he sucked your skin sending goosebumps across your body. 

“Jason, we can’t. Not here.”

He knew how you felt about keeping some form of professional boundaries between you. You’d worked together for the last three years but were only intimate for the last year on and off. Every time your bodies came together you always said it wouldn’t happen again until it did.

Jason pressed his hardening member on your ass, and you groaned. “Shit. You know we can’t.” It was a whine; he was not playing fair.

“We can. We’ve been together for a little over a year Y/N, you can’t just keep taking me when you feel like it here and there. We’re past that.” This was not the first time he’d brought this up, but it was the first time he’d done it this directly.

“Do you want me, Y/N? Before you answer just know I can read your body. I can hear it. I’ve gotten very good at listening to your body.” His lips were at your ear and every so often they brushed against you, tempting you to speak your truth. “Tell me, Y/N. Do you want me?”

The words hitched in your throat, you couldn’t say no, that was a lie, but you were reluctant to say yes. Jason turned you to face him pressing his pelvis onto you and gazing deeply into your eyes. He softly caressed your cheek then down to your chin before he tipped it up. His lips brushed yours then brushed your chin and down to your throat. You moaned again.

“Tell me babygirl.” Jason’s hand dipped under the leather pencil skirt you wore. When you felt his thick digits graze your pussy you gasped and tossed your head back.

“You’re already so wet.” You bit your bottom lip and enjoyed his fingers as they coaxed your body to give in. At this rate, he wouldn’t need to coax much longer.

“Let me give you a helping hand.” Jason’s thigh slipped between your legs hoisting you up onto the table. The split in your skirt gave him the needed access to your body. Jason pinched your sex sending a jolt through you making you jerk back dropping to your elbows. He does it two more times and each time you open your thighs wider and wider.

“You’re so wet.” Jason slipped your panties to the side and swirled his thumb around your clit. You moaned and arched backward savoring the sensations he was giving you. 

“Fuck, Jason.” Any restraint you had was gone once you felt him pinch your clit. It was throbbing before, but you were able to bear it, but now dear God you were way past getting over it. You needed a release.

Your body writhed atop the desk as the heat in your body increased. Jason began to move his hand from between your legs but you grabbed it and kept it in place. Locking eyes with him you bit your bottom lip and began moving his finger around your clit.

“Right there.” A mischievous smirk spread across Jason’s lips and the next second your legs were spread even wider.

“You got this. Take it.” His encouragement was the sexiest thing. You didn’t need any more encouragement. You gripped his hand and singled out his three fingers and swirled them around your clit. Each circle they made sent shivers through you and each shiver had you moving your body like a wave in the ocean. 

You ebbed and flowed your body to the imaginary sound of music you were hearing. It was a soundtrack for a race, a race of pleasure. You felt Jason’s need jam into your thigh and unexpectedly it made you want more. You lowered his hand and when they lined with your opening his eyes left yours and locked onto your core. 

“Jesus you’re going to be the death of me,” Jason groaned out, his voice was gruff and dangerously deep.

“Then die happy, fuck me.”

With a long groan, he sank one finger into your depths. You softly moaned. It wasn’t enough. 

“More?” You nodded giving him the answer he wanted.

“Ask me nicely.” 

“Please baby, more. I need to feel your fingers inside of me.” It wasn’t begging, it was pleading.

Jason hissed as he sunk another digit in your heat. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

Jason slowly plunged his fingers in and out of your sopping core. It was sheer torture--torture that you refused to take. Again, you grabbed his hand and plunged a third finger inside and proceeded to use his fingers to bring yourself the pleasure you wanted. 

Your moans filled the room in seconds, and they tumbled from you one after the other. You didn’t care if anyone could hear. You didn’t care if someone was standing right outside the door with their ear pressed to it. You didn’t care if everyone knew you were fucking your boss. At this point, you were ready for the world to know.

“Fuck, Jason. I wanna come! I wanna come! Make me come, baby!”

You didn’t know if it was him or yourself who plunged his fingers faster and deeper inside of you. You didn’t care. In between your moans and pants you heard how wet you were. The “slosh” and “squelch” sound only fueled your desire for him.

“Yes, Yes, Yes!” One of your hands slapped to your breast and squeezed your nipple through your blouse and that was when you felt him quickly flick your clit. The added sensation was too much and your body shook. You could feel your orgasm pushing its way through you. 

“Fuck me! Don’t stop!”

“Right there, you like that? Are you coming for me, sweetheart?” Your head nodded profusely as you babbled incoherently.

“Come for daddy. Show me whose pussy this is. Come all over these fingers!”

Just like that, you let go of whatever you were holding onto and just let the pleasure take over and do to you what it wanted. You screeched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head what triggered your convulsion. 

Before you could scream any louder Jason crushed his lips to yours dissolving the screams you let loose. His fingers didn’t still not for a second, he continued to plow through you giving you a never-ending orgasm, a never-ending wave of pleasure and heat that you felt as if you couldn’t take anymore. 

You began to see stars behind your eyes, stars of every color known to the color wheel. Your lungs felt burned and your mouth was dry and all you were able to get out were rasps.

“I ca—I can’t—I can’t baby.” You clamped your thighs together hoping to slow his actions to give yourself a needed break. You were sensitive everywhere, but you wanted more from him.

“Jason—.” Your hand met his crotch and moaned when you felt the class F weapon he was concealing.

“You want this dick?”

Again, you nodded as you clumsily tried to undo his pants to free him. Every attempt you made was a fail mostly because you had no coordination in your spent condition, and Jason moving away to avoid your hands.

“Do—you—want—this—dick?” With his last word your hand wrapped around his thickness forcing a moan from him. 

“Yes, I want it. I want your dick so bad baby. Please let me have it. Please!” Now you were begging.

A smile spread across his face and you knew he was up to something. Jason lowered himself to you, hovering over your body looking into your eyes.

“The only way you get this dick is if you finally admit what we are. Say the words.”

You should have seen this coming, but you didn’t. He’d planned this. This was his goal.

“Say the words, Y/N.” Jason rubbed his cock across your soaking core sending every logical thought out your head. The man was a master in pleasure torture. It didn’t help that he knew everything you liked, everything that made your body sear. 

He smiled again and you felt the tip of his need stretch you. your jaw dropped and everything in you said, “fuck it”.

“Fine. I’m yours, you’re mine. No more hiding. You and me.”

Jason slowly sank into your heat inch by inch. “You and me. Don’t you ever forget it!” With that, he snapped his hips forward sinking balls deep inside of you triggering yet another orgasm. The entire office would know now and the only thought in your head as he began to murder your pussy was “oh well.”

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Texas relief, @cestlestial-beings donated $50, and requested hurt/comfort wincestiel after 9.03. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

(read on AO3)

Cas is different. It's not just the clothes, although that was such a surprise that Sam almost didn't recognize him when they finally found him, knocked out in that reaper's apartment. That was a surprise, too—when Sam had thought Castiel was dead—and Dean all panicked, clutching at his face, when Sam woke up (from being knocked out? it must have been a bad fight)—but there was Cas, blinking and groaning and sore and saying, "I thought—I didn't think you'd—"

Uncertain, unbalanced. Weak. Sam thinks it and hates himself for thinking it, but it's true. The Cas they've known was a powerhouse, not just in his grace but in his certitude. No matter what insane plan, no matter how dangerous or frightening, Cas just stepped into it. It was like bravery except that Sam wasn't sure that Cas knew what fear really was. Dean hugs him close and Cas clutches at Dean's sides, at his jacket; when Sam tugs him in Cas's fingers dig into his shirt and they feel… soft. Human. Human—well, that's the problem.

"Man, you've gotta listen to me," Dean says, close. His hand on Cas's shoulder, his face this tangle. Sam's been on the other side of it before and he wonders if Cas is feeling the same heart-crumpling slam of guilt. "What were you thinking?" Cas's head ducks and Sam thinks, again, wrong. It feels so strange. Dean glances at Sam and his voice gets lighter. "And what are you doing, huh? Going home with strange girls. Me and Sam are chopped liver now, or something?"

"You're not chopped liver," Cas says, quiet. Sorry. "I was just—cold. And very hungry. April seemed kind."

"They always do," Dean says, and Sam huffs but gets his hand around the back of Cas's neck, reassuring. Cas looks up at him and seems wrecked. Like before, when Heaven had cut him off and his grace was thinning, spooling away—except, Sam thinks, that's how it's going to be, now. Castiel, their angel, not an angel anymore. Something snakes through his stomach, thinking it, but he can't quite pin it down. Dean's grabbing Cas back, though, hugging him close and putting a hand in his hair and looking so relieved Sam almost looks away, and the snaking feeling disappears, in favor of getting Cas close and warm, and safe, and theirs. Theirs, again. Maybe for the first time.

He sleeps in the backseat, on the drive home. Dean keeps checking the rearview. "He's fine," Sam says, and Dean says, fast, "I know," and then, slower, "I know, I just…"

Sam twists around. Cas is tucked in behind Dean's seat, Sam's jacket pulled up over his chest, passed out hard despite the thin morning light. Sam's seen him sleep only once before and it keeps pinging him, strange. "It feels wrong," he says, quiet. "Like it's not him."

Dean looks at him sideways and then turns back to the road. "It's him," he says, firm. "Has to be. Who else would be dumb enough to trust a reaper?" Sam snorts, flicks Dean's arm. Gets a half-smile that appears and disappears so fast Sam might've imagined it, and then Dean rubs his mouth with the back of two knuckles, glancing up in the rearview again. "I know what you mean. Like—what is he, if he's not…"

Sam shakes his head. Hard to say. What would they be, if they weren't hunters? Not much, Sam thinks, but they'd have each other at least. They always have. "We'll figure it out," he says, finally, and Dean nods, and keeps his eyes on the road, and Sam settles in to his side of the seat and wonders how.

Night again, by the time they hit Kansas. Castiel wakes up an hour from the bunker and croaks out, small, "I need food," and Dean immediately signals for the nearest exit and they hit a drive-through and then Sam watches Cas eat, in the backseat: messy, ravenous. Like when he was cursed by Famine except, of course, it's not anything more supernatural than that particular kind of all-day gnawing hunger. He sucks his fingers eating the fries, eyes closing in relief at grease, salt, protein. Meaty, human. Sort of disgusting but Sam offers him more fries over the backseat and Cas is so grateful that it's sort of endearing, too.

Home. Cas's legs are wobbly, getting out of the backseat. "Whoa," Dean says, steadying his arm. "Too much excitement after being in a coma all day?"

"My body is unreliable," Cas says, looking down, and he sounds uncertain enough about it that Dean's face changes, soft where Cas can't see. "I'm not used to this."

"Of course not, Cas," Sam says. He smiles when Cas looks at him, trying to be encouraging. "It's a lot. I can't really say we understand but—you're just going to need some time. Everything's going to feel weird for a while."

Cas's mouth tilts. "I must say, it's amazing how much time humans waste with urination," he says, and Dean laughs, says, "Okay, partner, let's go," and Sam follows them out of the garage, smiling too, ignoring the sensation in his stomach that keeps saying no. It'll go away. It's time for them to be here for their friend.

Cas asks to shower, before anything else. "I didn't realize people could get so itchy," he says, and Sam rolls his eyes and sets him up with soap, a towel, points out the shampoo and conditioner. He finds Dean going through the drawers in a bedroom they haven't used, frowning. His eyes look more tired than they should, even after two long days of driving. Sam says, "Hey," and isn't expecting Dean to jump like Sam's someone he doesn't expect to see.

"Ought to put a bell on you," Dean says, dragging a hand over his face. He's got a pile—boxers, socks, thin white undershirt. He leans his palms on the dresser and blows out air, slow. "God. I thought he was—"

Sam remembers. Castiel's still face, the blood. He thought he'd seen the knife go in but—well, that was wrong, obviously. Thank god. "He's okay," Sam says. "Or, I don't know. He'll be okay. He's human, right? We're resilient."

Dean lets out a low, fake hah. "Right," he says, and Sam can't hold back anymore—he steps closer, and slides his hand along the low of Dean's back. Dean's head dips, his eyes falling shut. "Sammy," he says, almost like warning, but Sam doesn't want to wait—doesn't know why they've been waiting.

"We're going to be okay, too," Sam says. He pulls at Dean's hip and there's resistance, for a second, but Dean stands up, turns, slides an arm around Sam's waist. His head's turned down until Sam tips his chin up and then there's his brother: tired worry around his eyes, his mouth an unsure slant. Sam drags knuckles along his jaw and smiles at him, trying to make it easy. "We're okay now," he says, and Dean's eyes close, and Sam takes the opportunity and leans down, and kisses him.

Jolt in his stomach. That mouth, familiar after all these years, even if the last year was hard. Even if they haven't touched like this, not really, since the hospital. Dean's soft, unsure for some reason, but Sam's not. After the promise Dean made to him, back at the church, he's not going to be unsure ever again. He frames Dean's jaw in one hand and kisses him deeper and Dean responds slowly, the worry or anxiety or whatever it is uncurling, his hand sliding warm under Sam's shirts, his mouth opening, his breath a sigh. "Sammy," he murmurs, against Sam's lips, and Sam smiles, holds his head, thinks yes.

Dean's eyes are heavy, when Sam pulls back, searching Sam's. He looks exactly like Sam could always want him to look—red mouth, cheeks flushed. Ready. It's not just them, though. "Let's see how Cas is doing, huh?" Sam says, generous, and Dean's eyelashes sweep in a slow blink and even that, god, is enough to send a rush down to Sam's dick. "Yeah," Dean says, raw, and has to clear his throat, and Sam grins at him and picks up the half-assed load of clothes and doesn't think they'll be worn, not for a while.

Cas is drying off when they get back to the shower room, scrubbing his face, standing naked among the ivory tile. He picks his head up from the towel when he hears them and blinks, pink-faced and damp, his body whole, tanned and compact and long-legged. Lovely, Sam thinks, anticipation building in his belly. Cas lets the towel fall to one side, unselfconscious, and Sam blinks. "Holy crap, dude," Dean says, "like three weeks as a human and you're already joining a biker gang?"

A frown before Cas looks down, and touches the tattoos on his ribs like he forgot them. "Oh, right," he says, like this is nothing. "This was—protection. My brothers were chasing me and it seemed prudent to go dark before I had to kill more of them." Dean glances at Sam and Sam bites his lip, shakes his head. Cas is still frowning when he looks up. "I don't know what a gang has to do with it."

"I know you don't," Dean says, quiet, and then, "C'mere."

Soft, easy. Dean holds his hand out and Sam gets a weird frisson in his spine—the times they've done this before. Castiel, angel, in his trenchcoat like armor, with his otherworldly eyes and his strength and his sense always of a universe inside—stepping close, drawn in to Sam's brother like a wasp to a raging fire. Human, now, naked and frail, and he doesn't have a chance. He takes Dean's hand and gets reeled in close, Dean's affection easy even if it's not simple, and Dean says, "God, we were worried about you, man," and Cas blinks and looks down and says, sort of rough, "I—was worried, about me, too," and Dean shakes his head and tips up Cas's chin and kisses him, the gentleness in it clear from across the room, and Sam's stomach flips over and he breathes out and thinks, okay. They'll play it this way.

First time they ever slept with Cas it was strange—Sam was uncertain, Dean was angry. Cas had no idea what to do with either of them. He's come in and out of their lives since then and it never got easier, really, although they got used to it. Sam always had the sense that Cas was watching, a little apart. It was obvious that he was in love with Dean and that he had affection for Sam, and Sam was—okay with that, came to love that about him, too. Even an angel couldn't resist Sam's brother. Sam got it more than anyone else ever would. Still—he was always an angel, no matter that he was warm flesh and a soft too-generous mouth and that he'd learned to suck dick almost as well as Dean could, and whenever he rose from a motel bed in moonlight, Dean sleeping warm against Sam's chest, Sam looked at Cas's bare skin and thought, he was never naked with them. Not really.

Now—

In Dean's bedroom it's shocking, how much Cas needs them. Uncalloused, raw, he grips at Dean's face, his shoulders, reaches for Sam's hand when Sam touches his chest and clutches at it hard enough that Sam's bones grind. "I want," he starts, breathless, but doesn't seem to know how to continue, how to say. Sam kisses the back of his knuckles and looks at Dean, undressed now too and climbing up next to Cas on the too-soft mattress. He raises his eyebrows and Dean nods, frowning a little.

Dean drags a hand up Cas's belly, hides the tattoos, kisses his jaw. Moves in, soft, says, "Hey, man. Relax, okay? Me and Sammy are gonna take care of you, right? Like we always do."

"Always," Cas repeats, turning in toward Dean's body, and Sam takes the opportunity to half-strip, to crawl in behind, pressing up against Cas's warmth. He feels—softer. Sam's fingers dig into his hip and he thinks, abruptly, that he might leave a bruise, and Cas has been untouchable for uncountable years and that's so insane-making that Sam buries his mouth against the back of Cas's shoulder, smooth and tanned-brown and the faintest taste of salt, trying not to think about what they could do. How they could hurt him, if they wanted to. How much he could've been hurt, this last little while, and how maybe he was.

A flinchy gasp—"Yeah, there we go," Dean's saying, with his voice that too-familiar almost-porny tilt—and Sam reaches and finds Dean already jerking Cas off, a smooth fondling pump that's clearly already almost more than Cas can handle. Sam scrapes his teeth along Cas's shoulder and reaches down, feels his balls, full and always a little bigger than Sam expects. "Yeah," Dean says, "is that what you need? Cas. C'mon, tell me."

Jesus, Dean's voice. Cas shudders, one knee pulling forward. "Kiss me again," he half-whispers, and Dean groans and does, and it's wet, sloppy. Sam's mouth waters and he kisses the back of Cas's neck, under his ear—grips his thigh and moves him, pushes him forward so he's half-sprawled over Dean's body—and Dean rolls with it, gathering Cas in closer, gripping his ass, pulling him in. "Oh," Cas says, at the full-body contact, and Sam says, "Yeah, Cas—go on, make it feel good," getting up on his knees so he can see.

He reaches between Cas's legs, touches his balls again, traces along the clean light hair in his taint, touches his asshole. Cas groans, surging against Dean, and Dean laughs a little, gripping Cas's hips, spreading his legs wider with his knees. "Yeah, buddy, come on—been a long time, right?" Sam sticks his thumb in his mouth to wet it, brings it back to Cas's hole, hot, snugged tight—trying not to actually listen to Dean, so he doesn't just pull his dick out of his boxers and jerk off over Cas's ass. It's hard to ignore, though: "When's the last time you fucked anything? Was it Purgatory? Remember, by the river?"

"Of course I remember the river," Cas says, shuddery, but lifts up suddenly, his knees spreading around Dean's hips and his ass pushing back against Sam's hand, his shoulders tight and hunched. "Please, I can't—I feel—Sam—"

Sam comes up behind him, wraps his arms around Cas's ribs. "Too much?" he says, and reaches down—god, yeah. Painfully hard, leaking wet already when they've only gone for a few minutes, a smear shining on Dean's belly. Dean pets his thighs, his eyes tight at the corners. Sam squeezes, soft, and Cas's face turns away, his back flinching against Sam's chest. "God. Okay—come on, buddy, it's okay. Just let it go, all right?"

"Yeah, Cas," Dean says, sitting up. He kisses Cas's chest, soft, his belly warm and soft against Sam's knuckles. "Let us see, huh? Damn, you're hot like this—isn't he, Sammy?"

Sam jerks Cas's dick instead of answering, pressing his lips to Cas's throat. He can feel the race of his pulse, there, the hammering anxious need, and Dean whispers something—Sam can't hear it—and then Cas groans low and hurt and he's flexing, in Sam's hand, spilling heat all over Dean's stomach and chest, jerking, giving up more maybe than he's ever given.

"There," Dean says, warm, and Sam's dick flexes in his boxers, full, wanting. "Takes the edge off, right?"

"I think there may only be edge," Cas says, after a second, his voice more normal even if his breath's still heavy, and Sam snorts, squeezes his dick. Still thick, even with Sam's hand smeared and slick. Cas's fingers brush the back of his hand and he turns his head, his mouth a strange tilt. "I didn't know if…"

Dean frowns, not understanding, but Sam gets it instantly. "We want you here," he says. He squeezes around Cas's ribs, soft. "Not just for this. Angel or not. Got it?"

Castiel looks in his eyes, searching, and then smiles, small. Sam's stomach flips. "Okay," he says, and turns to look down at Dean, who's smiling too. "If you'll have me."

"If he'll have us, he says," Dean says, rolling his eyes. "Like I'm not gonna get my mouth on that hot-ass tattoo here in the next five minutes."

Cas tilts his head, and Sam laughs. He puts away the strangeness. Cas is here, and safe, and that can't be anything but good. It'll be good to get to show him how humans actually do things. Any weirdness can wait for another day.