#demon!dean winchester x y/n | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deansbeer · 3 months ago

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prized possession ・ DEAN WINCHESTER. ៸៸៸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ♡ pinned library

SYNOPSIS. demon!dean decides to keep your soaked lace panties, because it drives his heightened senses wild for you. and the guy is not one bit shameful about it.

♡ KARI NOTES. god, hes such a freak && i love it SOOO bad. i thought of this idea w @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell @jasvtsc earlier in the day because i fear demon!dean's corrupted my mind entirely.

sex with dean has always been intense, but now that he's a demon, it's on a whole other level—like everything about him, his hunger for you has amplified tenfold. every time he touches you, it's like he's trying to ruin you, to mark you in a way that'll never fully fade. and when it's over, he's always got that cocky, unbothered smirk that drives you insane. tonight's no different.

you're sprawled out on the bed, still catching your breath, your body a trembling mess from what he just put you through. he's leaning against the wall now, shirtless, his jeans hanging low on his hips. his hair is a mess, his lips still swollen from kissing every inch of you, and yet he looks like the devil himself—because, well, technically he is.

you roll onto your side, groaning softly as you reach out for your panties, the pretty black lace pair you'd been wearing before he tore them off of you like they'd offended him.

except… they're not there.

"dean," you say, your voice sharp despite how wrecked you feel. "where the hell are my panties?"

he raises an eyebrow, looking at you like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "what panties?"

"don't play dumb, winchester," you huff, sitting up on the bed and glaring at him. "the black lace ones. the ones you just ripped off me."

a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, and your stomach sinks. "oh, those," he says, pushing off the wall and heading for the door. "yeah, those are mine now."

your jaw drops. "what the fuck do you mean 'yours'?"

he shrugs, completely unfazed. "i mean i'm keepin' 'em. they're soaked, sweetheart. absolutely drenched. you think i'm just gonna let you throw those in the laundry like they're not a fuckin' work of art?"

you grab a pillow and chuck it at him, but he dodges it easily, laughing as he disappears out the door. "un-fucking-believable," you mutter, shaking your head. luckily, you're home—so you grab another clean pair of panties from your dresser and slip them on, grumbling to yourself about how ridiculous he is.

you think that's the end of it. you really do. but then, over the next few days, you start to notice something… weird. for one, the black lace panties are nowhere to be found in your dirty laundry, even though you were sure he'd just been messing with you. and two, dean's been acting a little… off. not in a bad way! but in a way that makes your face flush whenever he looks at you. like he knows something you don't.

it's not until one night that you catch him red-handed. you're heading down the hallway, on your way to grab some water, when you spot him leaning against the wall, his back to you. at first, you don't think much of it—until you see what he's holding in his hand.

your fucking panties.

you stop dead in your tracks, your mouth falling open as you watch him lift them to his nose and take a deep, slow inhale, his eyes fluttering shut like he's savoring the scent.

"are you kidding me?" you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

he doesn't even flinch. instead, he turns to you, completely unabashedly, holding the panties up like a trophy. "nah," he says, smirking. "not kidding."

"dean," you groan, your voice low but stern as you stalk toward him. "you've kept those this whole time? what is wrong with you?"

"what's wrong with me?" he repeats, his grin widening as he tucks the panties into his back pocket like they belong there. "what’s wrong with you? you're the one who smells like that."

you gape at him, heat flushing down the back of your neck. "i don't even—what does that even mean?"

he steps closer, crowding into your space, and you can feel the heat rolling off him, thick and heavy. "it means, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, "that every time i get a whiff of these"—he pats his pocket—"i wanna fuck you all over again. so, yeah, i kept 'em. you got a problem with that?"

you're speechless, torn between being upset and… turned on. because of course you're turned on. he's DEAN WINCHESTER, and he's looking at you like he's seconds away from devouring you.

"you're insane," you manage, shaking your head.

"yeah?" he drawls, his hand curling around your waist. "well, you're about to be."

before you can respond, he's grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. you yelp, your palms against his back to steady yourself, but he doesn't even slow down, carrying you straight to the bedroom.

"dean! put me down!" you protest, but he just chuckles, slapping your ass hard enough to make you gasp.

"not a chance, baby," he says, tossing you onto the bed like a rag doll.

you barely have time to sit up before he's on you, yanking at your jeans with a single-minded determination that has your heart racing. "dean—"

"shut up," he growls, his voice dark and commanding as he strips you down, practically ripping your panties off in the process. "you've been walkin' around all day with this fuckin' scent, drivin' me insane. you think i'm just gonna let that slide?"

before you can answer, his mouth is on you, his tongue dragging through your folds like he's starved. he grips your thighs, holding you open as he devours you, his light stubble scratching against your sensitive skin.

"fuck," he groans, pulling back just enough to look at you, his lips glistening. "you taste good, babydoll. could do this for hours."

your head falls back against the bed, a moan slipping from your lips as he plunges back in, licking and sucking like he's on a mission. his grip tightens when you try to squirm away, his fingers digging into your thighs as he holds you in place.

"dean—mmm, fuck, shit—" you whimper, your hands tugging at his hair.

"you can do it," he growls against you, the vibrations making you shudder. "and you fuckin' will."

he doesn't stop, doesn't let up, and soon you're trembling beneath him, the pressure building low in your belly until it snaps, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

he doesn't pull away, even as you try to push at his shoulders, too sensitive to handle the way his tongue keeps teasing your clit. "oh, fuck! dean—s'too much—"

"nah," he mutters, his voice muffled against you. "not done yet."

and he means it. by the time he's finished with you, you're a wreck—sweaty, breathless, and completely at his mercy. he finally pulls back, his lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"told you," he says, leaning down to kiss you, slow and filthy. "you're fuckin' addictive, sweetheart."

you're too exhausted to respond, but the look in his eyes tells you this isn't the last time he't pulling a stunt like this. and honestly? you don't really mind.

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ant0niepax · 7 months ago

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Honestly I love how I upgraded from Wattpad to tumblr, less cringe but still cringe to keep it entering

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mariswxt · 3 months ago

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topgirl

We’ve all seen Dean’s demon form dominating humans, BUT WHAT IF HE WAS TOPPED BY A DEMON?

“Sugar, c’mon.” Dean groaned, his head tipping back against the headboard. Ugh, this felt so emasculating, your back against his chest, covers up, book in your hand— oh yeah, and his cock nestled inside of your pussy, unable to move because you wouldn’t let him.

You gently slapped his thigh, instantly stilling him and not even batting an eye — externally — as the tip of his cock brushed your cervix, absentmindedly flicking a page in your book. “Nope, baby, gotta stay still.”

Normally he’d be super smug when having a girl warm his cock, but right now he was frustrated, and mad, and god, it felt so good. Why did it feel so good doing this? Honestly, he got his rocks off on making girls scream and now this demon lady was making him feel like a fucking lamb.

“Fuckin’ hate you.” He murmured, eyes closing as he focused on how the walls of that pretty pussy were nestled around his cock at the right angle, the warmth making his stomach tingle and his nerve endings light on fire, his hands gripping your hips, feeling like a steel band and also a bomb ready to go off and make you scream with hard thrusts.

You raised an eyebrow, shifting slightly on purpose to elicit a groan from him, biting your lip to stifle a giggle— yeah, that really didn’t work out, you snickered anyway. “Awh, that’s cute, but we both know that ain’t true. You want this pussy.” Oh, yes, he did, and the way you purposefully squeezed him with your cunt only confirmed that.

A whimper escaped him. A whimper.

TAGLIST:

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special tags for my boos: @jasvtsc @deanswidow @beausling @titsout4nicholas @figthoughts

@deansbite

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thesilmarillionblog · 4 months ago

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HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DEMON

Summary: Dean is consumed by darkness, and your body is consumed by his. He wants you to realize that his new self is superior and demands that you enjoy his demon form.

Pairing: Demon Dean / F! Reader

Warnings: +18! (Minors DNI), SMUT!!!, angst, hurt, rough demon dean, demon has a praise kink, unprotected sex, somno kink!, naive and smart reader, fluff in the end, angst with happy ending

Word Count: 4206

A/N: English is not my first language.

It felt so lovely to feel the rough hands on your skin and hips after a long night of sleep. Though Dean had returned at last, you were too exhausted to speak up. All you could hear was him calling out to you; you were unable to respond. All you wanted was for him to touch you softly because you enjoyed it a lot and his touches would help you go to sleep.

He was taking off his jeans and t-shirt. You could hear it. You mumbled to him to come by your side already, as you smiled sleepily, hoping that he would crawl next to you and take you in his arms. However, as sleep overtook your body and mind, the words you were speaking vanished on the air.

Dean moved onto you and used an aggressive movement to shove the covers off your thighs and up your nightie. Your body froze, shivering. His hardness was palpable behind you, poking your back as though to rouse you from slumber.

You cried in agony as he tore off your underwear without uttering a word; the abrupt motion of the torn lace burned your flesh. He extended your legs wide as you kept murmuring his name to let him know that he should be acting more gently, as he usually did. He took himself in hand, grunting like a beast, his cock cold behind you. It had been a while since you had sex.

While he was getting ready to fuck you from behind, you were exhausted. You meant to offer him an opportunity to sleep tonight and give him everything he needed in the morning, but it seemed as though you had forgotten how to talk when you spoke. You were just too tired.

You whimpered in pain as Dean was inside of you with a single, violent push. But when you heard him sigh with pleasure like he was an animal, you remained silent. You decided to give him what he needed because of this.

As his hands tightly grabbed your thighs, you heard him nearly laugh with joy. “Now that's a good warm cunt,” he said. You were unable to stop moaning in pain once more.

You managed to say, "Baby, slow down,” with your eyes closed. You made an effort to ignore the ache in your legs and return to sleep. While there was pleasure as well, it hurt to see how quickly and without warning he started to fuck you like he didn't care how you felt. It was the first time he had shown such self-centeredness.

He growled fiercely, “Shut the fuck up,” as he continued to slam your pussy from behind and tightened his grasp on both of your hips to get your body beneath him in a more proper position. His balls and hips slamming into your pussy was creating wet and obscene noises, and now your ass was in the air; they were bruised under his merciless hands.

You were worried about his reaction. Dean didn't seem like himself. You predicted that perhaps something had irritated him or gotten under his skin, and he felt comfortable enough to use your body in this way to calm himself down. Nevertheless, despite all that occurred in his life, Dean was always kind to you and never did anything to cause you pain. Especially not when you had sex.

Your fingers firmly gripped the sheets, and your eyes welled up with tears as Dean continued using your body as he liked it. “Take it. That's how you should get fucked. Are you crying already?” He chuckled, becoming even more thrilled at hearing your whimper. “I'm going to fuck your little whimpering pussy like this from now on.”

You said, “Dean, baby, slow down,” as your body fluctuated between pleasure and pain. “I can't take it.”

“You're taking it good right now, so shut up,” he firmly said, pressing your head against the blankets and collecting your hair in his palm. He was just keeping your head still; it wasn't like he was trying to choke you. You were powerless against his unusual strength.

Rather than engaging in conflict with him and escalating his rage, you chose to lose yourself in the pleasure he was offering in between the pain that he caused. He focused on the way his thick cock moved into you; it slipped easily inside you. He was quickly and brutally pounding it within your pussy. You let out a cry of delight when he found your most sensitive spot.

“Oh fuck, yes!” As Dean used all of his power to fuck your throbbing pussy and restrain you from moving, it began to feel nice. You needed him to take his hands off of your hips because the pain started to hit hard. But there was enough pleasure in the way he squeezed your hips and smashed his cock inside of you to make your walls contract around his hard.

You could hear him groan with satisfaction. You attempted to give his body what it needed at this moment, sensing that he just wanted to be tough right now. You could discuss the issue tomorrow, whatever it was. After all, he was dealing with far too many awful things, and you wanted to support him up the same way his tender side lightened you in other days.

You screamed out his name as your walls clenched around him and your climax finally hit. He released his hold on your hair and placed his hand next to your head on the bed. You placed your lips on his wrist to quiet your moans and show him how much you cared about him and loved him; you wanted him to know that you understood him.

He slowed down for a moment, but not before looking for his own pleasure. He needed to come.

You mumbled, “Please, come inside, Dean,” hoping that would help him.

He laughed and said, “You want me to come inside?” before fucking you raw once again.

��Yes, please,” you whimpered. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to bear the way he wrecked your skin as your orgasm faded, and he continued to torment you by hitting your most sensitive spot.

“Quit behaving like a whiny bitch. Going to fill you full. Fuck. Do you want it inside?” Squeezing your hips so tight that your tears dropped to the covers, and he nearly yelled, “Take it then!”

He kept filling you with your hot seed, and no matter how hard you struggled to get free, each time he used his power to show that there was nowhere for you to go. This time, as soon as he gave your hurt ass a very hard spank, you couldn't hold back your tears. In addition to the pleasure, there was also an immense deal of pain. As you waited for him to release himself inside of you, your legs shaken. At least you were on the pill.

Your body was still shaking from pleasure and stress as he pulled out his cock with a rough move and dropped to your side with a loud, satisfied grunt. It was the first time Dean treated you in this manner. You were emotionally wrecked by the way he treated you since he was always so compassionate and gentle. You felt everything except for his love for you.

Dean laughed out loud, taking a deep breath as his whole body shook with ecstasy. The result was satisfying. The way you called out his name and then sobbed after made him extremely pleased, knowing that the body he was in was used to fuck you nice and slowly. That was the proper way to fuck you.

Finally, adjusting his messy hair on the bed, he murmured, “Stop fucking crying.” Now all he needed was sleep.

After you had rolled over on the bed to face him and discuss whatever was bothering him, you were going to say something sharp, but you froze when the full dark, devil-like eyes that were ordering you to shut up. Gripping the t-shirt on your body as though you needed a place to hide, you held your breath in terror. You felt stuck there and wanted to get out of the room. You knew you should have called Sam or Cas at that point. The better option would be Cas. But you didn't know how he would react if you called someone.

When his eyes went green again, you said softly, “Dean?” but you knew then that he was someone else. When he suddenly started acting as if he wanted to kill you and fuck you at the same time, you should have known better. “What happened to you?”

He appeared unhappy with your inquiry as he rolled his eyes at you. “Just go back to sleep,” he snapped. “Should I mount you again? Aren't you worn out already?”

You muttered, attempting to figure out what was wrong and what he had done to himself. “I don't understand,” you said. You knew just that he wasn't himself and that you desperately wanted him back.

Thinking quickly, you realized that if you had moved to avoid him, or even worse, if you had attempted to contact Cas or Sam, he could have seriously injured you. Thus, reluctantly, in spite of all the aches and bruises on your body, you place your shaking hands on his chest. Although you were bodily in pain, your heart was hurting more because you knew Dean was turned into a kind of demon. You felt lonely.

As soon as you put your hand on his chest out of fear, you believed there could be a way to reach out to him and at least make him act nicer. This time, your eyes were filled with fear and anxiety that if you didn't behave the way he wanted, he may truly hurt you.

You said, trembling uncontrollably, “Are we okay?”

You felt vulnerable, even with his come still dripping between your legs, but at least his t-shirt covered your legs, which were trembling from terror and cold.

“Why are you talking so much? Did I not tell you to go to sleep? I’m fucking tired of your questions,” He said furiously. You nearly withdrew your hand to yourself when he spoke to you and gave you such a piercing look, but instead you drew nearer to him and carefully laid your body on his lap because you wanted to feel him. You moved a little hesitantly, but he didn't stop you.

You said, your voice trembling with sorrow, “Why did you hurt me?” You hoped he would understand you while your hands lingered around his tattoo.

“Hurt you?” he said, laughing aloud as he raised your t-shirt to reveal your painful pussy to his body. He stopped you by your hips as you tried to get away from his grip out of panic. “Does your handsome Dean give you tender, sweet fuck? It's not a decent fuck if he doesn't make you weep. Keep that in your little mind.”

“I don't like this kind of animalistic sex. I hated it. It hurts all over now,” you complained, raising your voice a bit in the middle of it. You felt instant regret. “What did you to yourself?”

He sharply warned you, pressing his hands tighter on your skin. “Rise your voice to me again, and I'll break your legs,” he exclaimed.

As you remained motionless and considered what to say, he let out a quick sigh and stared at your pussy eagerly. “Wasn't it good enough? Tell me that I'm superior to your soft-ass boyfriend. Tell me you liked the fuck I fucked you raw.”

“I didn't know you had a praise kink,” you muttered, attempting not to laugh out loud this time.

You quickly answered, “You're better,” as soon as his expression shifted and he gave you a look that implied he wanted to murder you. “I'm really satisfied though.”

He offered you a sly smile and looked pleased, even though it was evident that you were lying to him to calm him down. He grumbled, “Oh, yeah?” You stiffened up, feeling his hardness beneath you. “Did you like it when I used your body as I wanted while you cried for me to slow down?”

You still nod to him even if the comments wounded you and brought to memory how much he violated your body for his own pleasure. You needed him to trust you if you wanted to protect yourself from this. For this reason, you didn't attempt to run away from his harsh touch since you desperately wanted him back. Dean attempted to get you to bow down to him once again as his eyes went completely black, as if he wanted to show you what he had become, but you immediately resisted and moved on top of him.

You knew he wasn't himself to listen to you just now, but you couldn't bear him like this again. There was no escape from his abuse. To resist him would only make things worse.

You begged, “Please.” If you told him you didn't want, you knew he wouldn't listen. “Let me...be on top this time. Please.”

With your fingers caressing his thick neck and jaw, you continued to plead with him, thinking that at least if you were on top, you might make him torture you less. “Please, let me satisfy you.”

"All right, you greedy cunt.” He pulled off your t-shirt, threatening to "fuck you harder than before if I don't like it." He growled low. Your whole body shook from the cold weather. But the way he treated you and his actions caused the fright. He'd do as he told you, you knew.

He took himself in hand and positioned his aching cock in your entrance once more, and you climbed on top of him, whispering, "Okay," trying to ignore the pain.

He thrust himself in you, gripping your hips tightly, and you bit your lips until they bled, pushing back your moan. It was unbearable. “Do you like it?” he grinned and said. He was having fun watching you up there.

“I like it a lot.” You lie in spite of your distress because. You were so in need of Dean's return that you started crying. You also wanted his soft hands to calm you down.

When you told him he was better, at least, he seemed to like it.

“It appears that you're mostly on top. Like he's the girl; he's so fucking weak and lazy. Pathetic.”

You remained silent and did your best not to talk about how much you like Dean's cute side and how much you enjoyed it when he treated you gently while the demon Dean was talking bullshit.

Rather than seeming submissive, you said, “It's nice to be at the top when you're tired.” Nevertheless, it wasn't. It was Dean's thoughtfulness that you found adorable. You were more pleased than anything by the sense of comfort he gave you.

His body tensed as he yelled, “Do it better,” beginning to lose his sh*t already

Being so afraid and having him staring at you as if he may shatter your bones at any moment made it difficult to maintain composure.

Despite your pain, you fully took him and started riding him in the way that he preferred while gazing into his eyes with your teary ones

You placed your hands on his jaw and kissed him gently to let him know how much you cared and to feel connected to him no matter what. His body stiffened for a moment, and you could feel his confusion.

While he lay on the pillow and you kissed him, his hands gripped you tightly from your belly and began to pound into your pussy hard and fast. You continued to respond to his fierce kisses with kindness and softness to demonstrate your love, even though he was kissing you harshly and turning your lips red.

You attempted to soothe him, to stop him from pounding into you like a dog in heat, by placing your hands on his. “Let me ride you, please.” You whimpered to get him to stop, fearing that his harsh touch would cause you to break down. “I want to satisfy you too, remember?”

“Fine!”

You moved very carefully on top of him, kissed every spot of his neck, and said, “You're better.” Than this. You didn't say anything to indicate that you needed him or that you weren't worried if he hurt you as long as he came back to you. Rather, you just moved on his cock and did your best to ignore your own suffering.

He only grumbled, “Hmm,” and slightly relaxed his grip when he noticed your pace quickening. His hands squeezed your tits harshly, but then, unexpectedly, they began to feel a bit softer. Yes, he was definitely sleepy.

“I want to satisfy you and make you happy, just like you do to me,” you sobbed into his ear as you could feel his cock throb and he was coming closer.

You pleaded with him, “Please, Dean,” as you gave him a gentle kiss on his neck and face. “Please, come to me.”

He abruptly roared, “Stop talking!” and used his hard hands to put pressure on your hips.

He began to moan in satisfaction as he pounded into you again, making you cry out in pain. Your most sensitive spots were being crashed by his pulsing cock, which made your aching walls clench him once more. You tried your best to stay focused, but the pain mainly overshadowed the pleasure.

When at last you cried out in agony, “Please, Dean. I need to come around your cock too. Would you please loosen your hands a little? I'm so badly hurt that I'm not able to feel anything.”

Taking a deep breath, he angrily said, “You complain so much!” He was bored of your attitude. But once he saw you were having trouble performing at your best, his hands unexpectedly grew softer, and they rested on your back, as if he were making an effort not to pound into you hard again. “Come now or I'm going to get you on your knees right now.”

Fortunately, your orgasm hit again as you forced your body to experience the pleasure while you pretended nothing was wrong. You would be in hell otherwise. With a loud grunt, Dean joined you, his hands stilling your hips. Now that his head was resting on the cushion and your hands were pushing his chest while you yelled out, the manner he touched you was harmless enough. You bit your lip hard, praying he was exhausted enough to sleep while his white ropes painted your walls.

He said, “Get off of me now!” after he was done.

You murmured, “I'm cold,” as your body began to shiver. You felt exposed.

“And what do you want me to do about that? Go get dressed then.”

You picked up your belongings off the floor and informed him it was okay for him to say such awful things, affirming that he was superior to his soft side—a complete lie—while he went on to rant about how much you were whining like a bitch while putting on his clothes. You ignored him since all you wanted was for him to feel more at ease. Taking your phone as your heart was racing, you informed him you would take a shower, but he didn't seem to care since he was snoring immediately.

As you were ready to pass away from panic, you contacted Sam and Cas to let them know everything that had transpired, including how Dean had gone insane and turned demonic. With trembling fingers, you were rapidly messaging them. When you told Cas, you were hoping he would arrive first. You quickly showered, and then you turned to the room before Dean could suspect and boost you. Once he realized exactly what you were doing, you knew he would fuck the shit out of you.

You sighed with relief when you noticed Dean was sound asleep, and you passed the time on the bed just waiting for Cas to arrive.

You stood between Sam and Cas, watching Dean, who was now strapped onto a chair and wearing handcuffs, stare at you as if he planned to murder you the moment he was free. Dean was about to depart when Cas showed up, but he was unable to make it. Thank goodness.

"You're a dead woman, you stupid sneaky bitch," he glared at you and muttered.

He emphasized the final phrase so strongly that you jumped and had to hide behind Cas to keep Demon Dean at bay as you gasped in fear. He hated you for betraying him and for preventing him from getting some sleep.

“Still smarter than you,” Cas said harshly.

You raised your voice and yelled, “You can't do a shit to me.” You grew bold this time, thinking Cas would stop him if he tried to break free from the restraints. “Sam and Cas are going to help you.”

He yelled, “I should have broken your legs,” before you could even complete your statement.

“You should not have assumed that I would accept you this way in the first place.” As Cas closed his eyes as though he was done with both of your bullshit, Dean was losing himself in rage. “Save your energy, love,” you teased. “I'll be having great time with Dean and his very sweet soft side once Cas is done with you!”

“Lord,” Cas whispered as he slightly turned to look at how you hidden yourself behind him. You had gripped his coat with your fingertips as though you were a koala and he was the tree. Actually, you were willing to throw Cas as a sacrifice if Dean managed to get away. God forbid.

You cling anxiously to his coat, but Cas eventually stops him before he loses his shit and threatens you with even worse things. Sam was massaging his head and done with his brother's mess.

You watched with a heavy heart as Dean came back; the gloomy clouds that had fallen on him and you had vanished. When he realized what he had done to you and himself, his eyes became wide with fear. You could feel the shock and remorse he was feeling. After exchanging glances and confirming that there was no longer any cause for concern, Cas and Sam departed the room. Of course they would speak with Dean eventually, but not just now. At first, you were so terrified that you couldn't stop shaking, thinking that his demonic form would return and fulfill his vow.

Your despair revealed itself once again, and your eyes sparkled with relief and happiness. The longer you stared at him, the more his actions and words wounded you. Still, that was irrelevant now. As he stood up and watched you take off his chains and everything, Dean was trying to think of anything to say to make up for what he had done to you.

Now he stood in front of you, breathing deeply. You hugged him hard as soon as he opened his mouth to speak. Regaining his warmth and affection was all you needed; words or excuses weren't necessary. You needed to know and feel that you were safe now.

Your desperate embrace was instantly met with his hands drawing you nearer to him.

You didn't want him to feel this way any longer, but he whispered, “I can't believe what I have done,” with embarrassment and sorrow. “God, I'm so sorry.”

You interrupted him with, “It's okay,” as you put your lips to his neck and smelled his hair. Everything was fine. “Just promise me that you are going to talk with me no matter what happens. Don't shut me out, Dean.”

“I promise,” he sucked in a pained breath. His hands gripped your cheeks, forcing you to turn to face him. “I will never let this happen again. Never. I swear.”

You smiled at him with teary eyes and stated, “You better,” trying not to break down and worsen his feelings. “Demon Dean, your other form, vowed to the gods that he would kill me. He certainly meant it. In addition, he threatened to break my legs. I don't think he was joking.”

He kissed you tenderly and said, “It won't happen again,” as he started his regretful apologies.

“We are going to be alright. I love you, Dean. Always remember this.” You removed his hand from your cheeks and gave his wounded palm an affectionate kiss. “Never forger this,” you said quietly.

He held you tightly to his chest and murmured, “I won't. I love you. I will fix this, I swear.”

The pain he had brought about before vanished beneath his sincere and compassionate words. His arms wrapped firmly around you, giving you a sense of protection that erased the anxiety that he had caused. Although you knew it would take time for your body to recover, you knew your love was powerful enough to cure both of your hearts.

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maddie0101 · 9 days ago

Text

𖤐 no escape (demon!dean x fem!reader)

𖤐 summary: when dean turns into a demon, the bunker becomes a hunting ground. sam isn’t the only one running, you’re caught in the middle, forced to confront the monster your best friend has become… and the feelings you’ve both been running from.

𖤐 warnings: gore, sexual tension, demon!dean, choking, reader almost dies, anxiety, brief pain, guilt, this fic is pretty emotional, somewhat dark?

𖤐 word count: 4.5k

Your breath came in short, panicked gasps as you pressed yourself against the cold metal shelving in the bunker’s storage room. The flickering light overhead buzzed, casting shadows that seemed to stretch and twist, just like the thing hunting you.

But it wasn’t just a thing, you reminded yourself. It was Dean. But that wasn’t really true, was it? Not anymore.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” his voice drawled from somewhere in the hallway, thick with amusement. “You really think you can hide from me?”

Your fingers clenched around the blade in your grip. It was barely steady. You hated that. You’d hunted monsters before, fought things way worse than this—but this wasn’t some random creature. This was him. Dean, your best friend, the man you’d spent years shoving your feelings down for. The man who always had your back. The man who wasn’t supposed to be the one you feared.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to shake off the memory of Sam’s warning before everything went to hell: Stay out of sight. If he finds you, run.

“Not very fair, is it?” Dean’s voice was closer now. A little too close. “Me, having all the fun while you’re stuck hiding like a scared little girl.”

The sudden clank of a pipe hitting the ground made you jump. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

“You know, Y/N, I always thought you had more fight in you.” His tone shifted, something darker slipping in. “Or maybe you’re just waiting for me to find you.”

You took a slow, careful breath. He was toying with you. Drawing this out because he could. Because he enjoyed it. And despite the terror curling in your stomach, you couldn’t ignore the way his voice—smooth, teasing, wrong—sent a shiver down your spine.

This wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t.

—but it was.

You peeked around the corner just as he stepped into view, and your stomach twisted. His green eyes, once full of warmth and mischief, were now black pools of endless night. His mouth curled into a smirk when he spotted you.

“There you are.”

You bolted.

The bunker’s halls blurred past as you ran, adrenaline burning through your veins. You could hear his footsteps behind you, casual, unhurried. He knew you weren’t getting away.

You rounded a corner, aiming for the weapons room—maybe you could grab something, salt rounds, anything—when a strong hand wrapped around your arm and yanked you back.

You barely had time to gasp before your back hit the wall. Dean caged you in, one hand braced beside your head, the other curling around your wrist. He was too close, heat radiating off him in waves. His breath ghosted across your face, and you swallowed hard.

“Running?” he murmured, tilting his head. “That’s cute.”

You glared up at him, ignoring the way your pulse betrayed you. “Let me go, Dean.”

He chuckled, dark and low. “See, that’s the problem. I don’t really feel like it.” His grip tightened slightly. “You’ve been avoiding me, sweetheart. Hurts my feelings.”

“Yeah? Guess you should’ve thought about that before you went full psycho.”

Dean grinned, but there was nothing soft about it. “You always were a mouthy little thing.” His eyes flickered over your face, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. “Gotta admit, though… I missed you.”

Your stomach twisted. “You don’t miss anything, Dean. You’re not you.”

He hummed, considering that. “I don’t know. Feels like me. Feels better than me.” His fingers lifted to brush a strand of hair from your face, and you flinched. His smirk widened. “Still the same guy underneath it all, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh, but I am. And you wanna know the real kicker?” He leaned in, lips a whisper away from your ear. “I remember everything. Every little moment. Every time I caught you staring when you thought I wouldn’t notice. Every time you got jealous over some girl at a bar.” He pulled back just enough to lock his gaze with yours. “Every time I wanted to kiss you but didn’t.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He smirked. “That’s right, sweetheart. It wasn’t just you.”

Your body betrayed you, a shudder rolling through you despite every instinct screaming to fight. Because it was him. The same Dean who had driven you crazy for years, the same Dean you’d secretly wanted for just as long. But now, he was something else entirely.

And that terrified you. “You’re lying,” you whispered.

Dean exhaled a quiet laugh. “Am I?”

His fingers skimmed down your arm, slow, deliberate. You hated how your skin burned where he touched. How your body still knew him, still wanted him, even when you knew he wasn’t the same.

His head tilted, studying you. “Y’know, if you ask nicely, maybe I’ll let you keep running.”

You clenched your jaw. “Go to hell.”

His smirk widened. “Been there, sweetheart. Wasn’t all that fun.”

Then, without warning, he let go. You stumbled forward slightly, eyes snapping up to his.

“Run,” he murmured, voice full of amusement.

You hesitated, pulse hammering.

“C’mon, Y/N. Make this fun for me.”

Your fists clenched, anger flaring through the fear. You wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, wanted to scream at him for twisting everything between you into some kind of sick game. But you knew better.

So you ran.

And behind you, Dean just laughed.

Your legs burned as you sprinted down the bunker hallway, lungs straining for air. Every muscle in your body screamed at you to keep moving, keep running, but it was useless.

The hallways twisted like a labyrinth, but you knew them like the back of your hand—better than that. You and Sam had spent hours mapping every inch of this place, making sure you had an escape plan for anything. Except for this. Except for him.

You rounded a corner too fast, nearly slipping—And slammed right into a broad chest. A hand clamped over your mouth before you could scream. “Shh! It’s me,” Sam whispered, his grip firm but careful.

You exhaled sharply as he let you go. His eyes were wild, his hair damp with sweat. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head. “No. He’s coming.”

Sam swallowed hard, gripping the demon blade tight. “I know. We have to keep moving.”

A slow, mocking clap echoed through the hallway. You and Sam froze.

“Oh, look at you two,” Dean’s voice drawled, smooth and lazy, like this was fun for him. “Working together. Just like old times.”

Your blood ran cold.

Dean stepped into view, and the sight of him made your stomach twist. His green eyes, the ones that had always been so full of warmth, were black as the void. His lips curled into a smirk, dimples flashing like this was some big joke. Except it wasn’t. Not to you. Not to Sam.

Dean twirled the First Blade between his fingers like it was weightless. “Y’know, this is kind of sweet,” he mused. “The two people I loved most, standing side by side.” His smirk sharpened. “Too bad I have to kill you both.”

You barely had time to react before he moved. One second he was ten feet away. The next—Sam shoved you aside just as Dean lunged. The brothers collided in a blur of movement, Sam’s blade flashing, Dean’s grin widening. You scrambled to your feet, heart hammering as they fought, the sound of metal clashing against metal echoing through the hallway.

But Sam wasn’t winning. Dean was only toying with him. You knew Dean’s fighting style better than anyone. He always fought with purpose—every move calculated, every strike meant to end things fast. But this? This was different. Dean was dragging this out, laughing between attacks, dodging at the last second just to piss Sam off. He was enjoying this.

Sam swung the demon blade at Dean’s ribs, but Dean caught his wrist mid-strike and slammed him into the wall. Sam grunted in pain, dropping the knife.

“Sam!” You surged forward, but Dean turned his head, giving you a look.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tsked, holding up the First Blade. “I’ll get to you in a minute, sweetheart.” He pressed the Blade against Sam’s throat. And for the first time since this started—Dean stopped smiling. Something dark flickered behind his eyes. “You always wanted to save me,” he murmured. “And look where it got you.”

Sam clenched his jaw. “Dean—”

“That’s not my name anymore.” The words were low. Dangerous. Your stomach twisted. Dean pressed the Blade harder, just enough to break skin. Blood beaded along the edge.

“No,” you choked out, stepping forward. “Please.”

Dean’s jaw tensed. His grip twitched. For a split second, you thought he was going to do it. Kill the person he loved most in the world. Kill his brother. And then—He turned his head, locking eyes with you.

“…You’re crying,” he murmured, almost fascinated.

You hadn’t even realized it. Tears streaked your face, your whole body trembling. Not from fear. Not from anger. From him. From watching him like this.

Dean tilted his head, studying you. Something in his expression shifted—just slightly, just enough to make your breath catch. And then, slowly, he smiled. “Oh, sweetheart.” He sighed dramatically, stepping away from Sam like he was bored now. “If you wanted my attention that bad, all you had to do was ask.”

You stiffened as he took a step toward you. Then another. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. “Stay away from me, Dean.”

His grin widened. “Make me.”

He lunged. You barely had time to react before he slammed you against the opposite wall, knocking the air from your lungs. His hand wrapped around your throat—not cutting off air, just holding you there, keeping you still. Keeping you his.

Your breath hitched as his body pressed against yours, his strength caging you in. His free hand trailed up your arm, his fingers grazing your pulse.

“God, you’re shaking,” he murmured. “I love it.”

“Dean,” you whispered.

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—something almost human, but as quickly as it came, it soon disappeared. His smirk returned.

“You know what I think?” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear. “I think you like this.”

Your whole body stiffened. “I hate you.”

Dean chuckled. “Mmm. Keep telling yourself that.”

His grip tightened just slightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you he could. That he had all the power here. Sam groaned from the floor, struggling to move. Dean ignored him. His black eyes locked onto yours. “I could kill you,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Right here. Right now.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs and Dean smirked. “But where’s the fun in that?” Then, before you could react—before you could even breathe—he moved.

Pain exploded through your ribs as Dean slammed you back against the wall, his grip tightening around your throat. You choked out a strangled gasp, fingers clawing at his wrist, but he was too strong, too cold—too gone.

“Let—go—” Your voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper.

Dean only chuckled, tilting his head as he watched you struggle. “You know,” he mused, almost thoughtful, “I always wondered what you’d look like under me. Writhing. Squirming.” His grip flexed, just enough to send a sharp spike of fear down your spine. “Begging.”

Your nails dug into his wrist, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t even feel it. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your cheek. “C’mon, sweetheart. Give me something. A scream, a sob—anything.”

Your vision blurred at the edges, black creeping in. Your pulse pounded in your ears, and you couldn’t get enough air, couldn’t—

A low, broken gasp forced its way from your lips.

And Dean—Dean shivered. “Fuck,” he exhaled, voice rough with something dark. “That’s it. That’s it.”

You hated him. You hated him so much it burned. But your body was weak. And he knew it.

His grip tightened—And then, just as the darkness nearly swallowed you whole.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice rang out, sharp and furious, and then—CRACK.

Dean jerked as something slammed into his head—a crowbar, swung with everything Sam had left. His grip loosened, just enough for you to suck in a ragged breath, just enough for Sam to shove him away from you. Dean stumbled, blinking, his cocky smirk faltering for the first time.

Sam grabbed your arm, pulling you up. “You okay?”

You coughed, nodding weakly, your throat throbbing.

Dean’s smirk returned, but this time, there was blood in his grin. He ran his tongue over his teeth, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “Atta boy, Sammy,” he drawled. “I was wondering when you’d finally get back in the game.”

Sam positioned himself in front of you, demon blade in hand. His chest rose and fell in quick, angry breaths. “We’re not gonna let you win, Dean.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “Win? Win?” His smirk sharpened. “Sammy, this is me winning.”

Then he lunged. You barely had time to react before Dean tackled Sam, sending them both crashing into the wall. The knife skidded across the floor, out of reach. You scrambled for it, but before you could move, Dean punched Sam across the face, the sickening crack of bone echoing through the hallway. Sam grunted, his head snapping to the side. Dean grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close. “Y’know, little brother, I gotta say…” His fingers dug into Sam’s shirt. “I always knew you’d be the one to break first.”

And then he threw him. Sam hit the opposite wall with a thud, sliding to the floor with a pained groan. Your stomach dropped. Dean turned to you and this time, his smile was gone. He stalked forward, his black eyes locked onto yours, the First Blade tight in his grip.

“No more games,” he murmured.

You grabbed the demon blade and lunged but Dean quickly caught your wrist mid-swing and twisted. A sharp cry tore from your throat as pain shot up your arm. The knife slipped from your fingers, clattering to the floor.

Dean laughed. “Nice try,” he cooed. Then his grip shifted—from your wrist to your hair—before yanking you forward, dragging you against him. You gasped, your hands flying to his chest, trying to push him back. He didn’t budge.

“God, you’re stubborn,” he murmured, his nose brushing your cheek. “That’s what I always liked about you.” You trembled, anger and fear battling inside you.“You’re a monster,” you spat.

Dean grinned. “And yet…” His hand slid down to your waist, grip firm, possessive. “You still can’t look away.”

Your stomach twisted. You hated that he was right.

Dean tilted his head, his lips barely inches from yours. His grip tightened. Your breath hitched as his fingers dug into your waist, his body pressing against yours, keeping you trapped. His black eyes were locked onto yours, filled with something dark, something hungry.

“You’re shaking again,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your cheek. “God, I love that.” His grip tightened further, and before you could react, before you could even think, he moved. A sharp, searing pain tore through your stomach. Your lips parted in a silent gasp.

Dean exhaled softly, like he’d just taken his first real breath in years. His forehead rested against yours, his smirk softening into something almost… tender. “There we go,” he whispered. “Took you long enough.”

You blinked, struggling to focus, your hands clutching at his shoulders—at him—as warmth bloomed beneath your ribs.

Dean pulled back just slightly, his gaze flickering down. The First Blade was buried deep in your stomach and it was still in his hand. Your fingers trembled as you curled them around his wrist. “D-Dean—”

But a sudden gust of wind roared through the bunker.

Dean’s smirk vanished.

Bright, blinding light filled the room, illuminating the darkened bunker like lightning striking at midnight. A deep, commanding voice echoed through the space.

“Let. Her. Go.”

Dean was suddenly yanked away from you, violently thrown back by an unseen force. He crashed into the wall with a grunt, the First Blade slipping from his grasp as invisible restraints pinned him in place. The moment his body left yours, your knees buckled. A strong pair of hands caught you before you hit the floor. “Y/N, I’ve got you.”

You could barely lift your head, your vision swimming, but you knew that voice anywhere. “Cas—” you rasped, your fingers clutching weakly at his coat.

“You’re going to be okay,” he murmured, easing you down carefully. His blue eyes flickered over your wound, his jaw tightening. “I need to heal you.”

“No,” you croaked, shaking your head. “Not yet. Get—get Dean first.”

Castiel hesitated, his gaze darting to where Dean was still struggling against the angel’s hold. Dean snarled, his black eyes burning with rage. “Let me go, you feathery son of a bitch!”

Sam didn’t waste a second. He grabbed the syringe from his jacket and slammed it into Dean’s neck. Dean jerked, eyes going wide, his entire body going rigid as the purified blood surged through his veins. His breath hitched, a choked noise leaving his lips. His body trembled violently, black veins creeping along his skin.

Sam stepped back, watching him carefully, his own chest heaving. “Come on, Dean,” he muttered under his breath. “Come back.”

Dean gritted his teeth, a strangled growl ripping from his throat. His body convulsed, his hands clenching into fists, and for a moment, you thought…

But then his entire body shuddered and the black bled from his eyes. Dean’s head snapped up, his gaze wild—his green eyes wide and panicked as he gasped for air, as if breaking the surface after drowning in darkness. Then his gaze locked onto you and every single ounce of breath in his lungs vanished.

“Y/N?” His voice was hoarse, almost broken. His expression crumpled the second he saw you slumped in against the wall, blood soaking through your shirt, your body trembling from the pain.

Dean’s entire world stopped. “No.” His voice was barely a whisper, barely even a sound. “No, no, no—” Dean collapsed forward, catching himself just in time to crawl toward you. His hands shook as he reached out, as if afraid to touch you, as if afraid you’d break. His fingers hovered over your wound, barely brushing your skin. “Oh, God,” he rasped. “Oh, God—I—I did this.”

His breath hitched, his whole body trembling. His hands curled into fists, his knuckles white.

“Dean—” you tried to say his name, but your voice was too weak.

He wasn’t even listening. “I hurt you,” he choked out. “I—I almost—” His jaw clenched, his eyes shining. “I almost killed you.” His hands finally landed on you, gripping your arms, his thumbs stroking your skin like he was trying to keep you here, keep you real.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so—so sorry.”

You managed a weak, shaky breath. “Dean, it wasn’t you—”

“Yes, it was.” His voice cracked. His forehead dropped to yours, his fingers tightening their hold. “It was me, sweetheart.” His breath was warm against your cheek, his whole body trembling. “And I can’t take it back.”

You swallowed, your eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion threatened to pull you under.

Dean’s grip tightened in you, worry wracking his body.“Cas!” His voice was raw, desperate. “Fix her!”

Castiel placed a firm hand on your shoulder, his other hovering over your wound. A soft, golden glow emitted from his palm. Your body jolted as warmth flooded through you, the searing pain easing just slightly.

Dean’s eyes never left your face but as seconds passed your eyes remained shut. You weren’t moving. You weren’t even stirring. The color in your face was too pale, and your body was too still. His grip on you tightened. “Cas.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried every ounce of fear that was ripping through his chest. His throat was tight, his hands shaking as they brushed over your cheek. “Why isn’t she waking up?”

Castiel remained quiet for a moment, his gaze steady as he observed you.

“Cas,” Dean snapped this time, his panic rising. “She should be awake—why the hell isn’t she waking up?”

Castiel sighed, his expression unreadable but calm. “Dean, her body needs time to heal.”

Dean shook his head, jaw clenching. “No—no, you fixed her. I saw you. She should—she should be okay.” His fingers brushed against your forehead, then your wrist, searching for anything—any twitch, any sign of you coming back to him.

“She is okay,” Castiel reassured. “But she went through immense trauma. Her body is simply resting. She will wake up.”

Dean let out a sharp exhale, but his panic didn’t ease. His hands framed your face, his thumbs stroking your skin as he muttered, “C’mon, sweetheart. You’re stronger than this. You’re—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying to force the lump in his throat down.

Sam stepped forward cautiously. “Dean—”

“Don’t,” Dean cut him off, his voice raw. “Just… don’t.”

He bent down, pressing his forehead against yours, eyes squeezing shut as he let out a shuddering breath. “Please,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Don’t do this to me.”

Sam and Castiel shared a look but said nothing. They knew there was nothing they could say. Dean stayed there, holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. His fingers curled into your shirt, his breath uneven as he muttered apologies over and over again. “I swear,” he whispered against your skin, “when you wake up, I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything.”

Two Days Later

The bunker was quiet. Too quiet. Dean sat slumped in a chair beside your bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together in front of him. His head was bowed, his shoulders tense, and his face was drawn with exhaustion and guilt. He hadn’t left your side since Castiel healed you. Two days.

Two days of watching you sleep, of waiting, of replaying every horrific thing he’d done under the demon’s control. The image of you bleeding out in his arms was seared into his brain. The memory of your broken voice saying his name in a weak, rasped breath haunted him like a goddamn ghost. And the worst part? He did it. Demon or not, it had still been him.

Dean let out a slow exhale, dragging a rough hand down his face. His jaw clenched as he stared at the floor, unable to look at you, unable to face what he’d done. He’d almost lost you. He should have lost you.

If it weren’t for Cas, you’d be—Dean swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. The chair creaked as he leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. His fingers curled into his hair, his chest tightening.

And then—A soft sound. A quiet, barely-there groan. Dean’s head snapped up, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes darted to you, heart slamming against his ribs.

Your fingers twitched against the sheets. Then, with a slow, exhausted inhale, your eyes fluttered open. For a second, you just stared at the ceiling, dazed and unfocused. But then—your gaze shifted, landing on him.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath. “Sweetheart?” His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

You blinked sluggishly, your lips parting as if trying to form words. Your brows pinched together slightly before your gaze finally sharpened on him. “…Dean?”The sound of your voice—soft, fragile, but alive—hit him harder than a damn bullet to the chest.

Dean let out a shaky breath, gripping the edge of the mattress like he needed to ground himself. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he rasped. “I’m here.”

You swallowed thickly, your throat dry, and tried to shift, only to wince at the dull ache in your stomach.

Dean was instantly on his feet, leaning over you, his hands hovering—like he wanted to help but didn’t know if he should. “Easy,” he murmured. “Don’t push yourself.”

You blinked up at him, confusion flickering across your face as you took in his disheveled appearance—dark circles under his eyes, unshaven stubble, the way his shoulders were practically hunched under invisible weight. “…How long?” you croaked.

Dean let out a small breath of relief—because you were talking—before sinking back into the chair. “Two days.”

Your brows lifted slightly. “Damn.”

That almost made him smile. Almost. But then, reality crashed back down, and the guilt returned with full force. Dean swallowed and glanced away, his jaw tight.

Your gaze softened as you studied him. Even without him saying a word, you could see it. The self-hatred. The way he was drowning in it. “Dean,” you whispered.

His throat bobbed as he clenched his fists. “I almost killed you.” His voice was rough, raw. “You shouldn’t even be—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Cas saved you, but it doesn’t change what I—”

“Dean.” Your voice was a little stronger this time, but still soft.

His green eyes flicked up to yours, filled with nothing but pain. You swallowed, forcing down the lump in your throat. “It wasn’t you.”

Dean let out a dry, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s what they all say.” His fingers curled into his jeans, his whole body wound tight. “That it wasn’t me, that it was the demon, but I remember it. Every damn second of it.” His voice cracked as his gaze locked onto yours.

You felt your heart ache at his words. Dean exhaled sharply, running a rough hand over his face. “I hurt people. I hurt you.” His voice lowered to a whisper, like he hated even saying it. “And I don’t know how to come back from that.”

You took a slow breath, gathering what little strength you had, and reached out, resting your hand over his.

Dean froze. His eyes darted to where your fingers curled over his own, then back to your face, his breath hitching slightly. “You already came back,” you murmured.

Dean swallowed hard, his thumb twitching under your touch. Dean stared at you, like he didn’t understand how you could even look at him, let alone forgive him. For a moment, the room was silent. But then Dean turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours, gripping your hand like it was the only thing keeping him here. His gaze softened, raw with emotion.

“I almost lost you.” He murmured.

“You didn’t,” you whispered back.

Dean took a slow breath, staring at you like he wanted to memorize every detail of your face. Then, after a long pause—“I love you.” The words were so quiet, you almost thought you imagined them. But the way Dean’s grip tightened on your hand, the way his eyes stayed locked on yours, made it real. Your breath caught in your throat.

Dean exhaled, a small, almost broken smile tugging at his lips. “I do,” he whispered. “I don’t know why the hell it took me so long to say it, but… I do.” His thumb brushed against your skin, gentle, reverent. “And I swear to God, sweetheart, I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”

Tears burned the back of your eyes, your throat tightening. You gave him a soft smile, squeezing his hand. “Dean Winchester,” you murmured. “You are a damn idiot. I love you too. ”

A surprised chuckle left him, the first real smile cracking through his grief. And then, with what little strength you had, you tugged his hand toward you. He leaned down, his lips ghosting over your forehead in a gentle, lingering kiss. And for the first time in days—He finally breathed again.

author’s note:

I finally posted it! This fic has been sitting in my drafts for over 2 weeks. I feel like I’ve posted so much this week already. I hope it doesn’t bother anyone 😅 I’m also thinking about writing for soldier boy soon. (Even though I haven’t watched the show yet but I plan on watching it this weekend!)

Anyways, I was going to continue the story with some smut at the very end but decided not to. Ending on a softer note is not usually my forte but we’re trying something new! Lmfao

tags:

@freeluigihesbae @aylacavebear

If you would like to be tagged in all dean fics please lmk! drop a comment and I will add you to the list! ☻

my works

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lila-lou · 1 year ago

Text

✨Beyond saving✨

Summary: Dean became a demon and left you overnight. Three months have passed since then, in which you wanted nothing more than for him to finally come back. However, when he returned, it became painfully clear that he could no longer be saved.

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Rape, Language, Angst, Hurt, Violence, Humiliation - it´s just pure darkness

Word Count: 4289

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

You sat alone in the bunker, your breaths shallow and pained, the echoes of recent battles still reverberating in your mind. Sam, fueled by determination and desperation, had embarked on a relentless search for Dean, accompanied by Castiel. Left behind, you nursed your injuries.

Your ribs ached with every breath, a testament to the encounters with some demons in your relentless search for Dean. Each shadow seemed to whisper his name, taunting you with his absence.

Cradling your injured side, you sank into the cold embrace of a chair, the weight of uncertainty pressing down upon you. How long had it been since Dean had disappeared into the night, consumed by the darkness that had claimed him? The minutes stretched into eternity, each tick of the clock echoing the ache in your heart.

Outside, the world continued to spin, oblivious to the turmoil within the bunker's walls. But for you, time stood still, trapped in a limbo of fear and longing. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind, raised hopes that Dean would materialize before you, his familiar presence a balm to your weary soul.

But as the weeks slipped by, despair threatened to overwhelm you.

In the depths of your despair, a voice whispered a gentle reminder: hope. It was a fragile thread, woven with memories of shared laughter and whispered promises.

With each heartbeat, you whispered a silent vow to never give up on Dean, to keep fighting until he was safely by your side once more.

Two long weeks had passed since Sam and Cas had departed, leaving you to grapple with the silence that hung heavy in their absence. And three months had slipped by since Dean, consumed by the darkness of his demonic transformation, had vanished into the night, his departure leaving a void that seemed impossible to fill.

As you made your way to the kitchen, your movements slow and deliberate, the pain in your ribs flared with every breath.

Reaching the refrigerator, you paused, your hand hovering over the handle as a wave of loneliness washed over you. The prospect of facing another day without Dean, without the warmth of his presence, felt like an insurmountable burden. But you couldn't afford to succumb to despair, not when there was still a glimmer of hope flickering in the darkness.

With a determined exhale, you opened the refrigerator door, the cool air washing over you. Amidst the assortment of food and beverages, your fingers closed around a cold bottle of beer, the familiar label offering a brief respite from the ache that threatened to consume you.

Bringing the bottle to your lips, you took a long swallow. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to linger in the memories of happier times, when laughter had filled the air and the future had seemed full of endless possibilities.

That’s when you heard heavy footsteps echoed through the silence, sending a shiver down your spine as they drew closer. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of fear and longing coursing through your veins. You knew without a doubt who stood seconds later right behind you, his presence a familiar yet chilling presence that sent a tremor of apprehension rippling through your body.

Dean.

The name hung heavy in the air, laden with the weight of everything that had transpired in the months since his transformation into a demon. Three long months had passed since you had last seen him.

And now, as he stood mere inches away, his chest pressed against your back, you couldn't bring yourself to turn around. The air crackled with tension, thick with unspoken words and the palpable sense of danger that surrounded him.

You felt his breath ghost across the nape of your neck, a chilling reminder of the darkness that lurked within him. The urge to turn and face him, to confront the demon that wore Dean's face, warred with the instinct to flee, to put as much distance between you and his darkness.

But as the seconds stretched into eternity, you remained rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the fear that gripped you like a vice. Dean wasn't here to do nice things, of that you were certain. He was a harbinger of chaos, a reminder of the perilous path he had chosen.

And yet, despite the fear that coiled in the pit of your stomach, there remained a flicker of hope, a tiny ember that refused to be extinguished. Deep down, buried beneath the layers of uncertainty and despair, you held onto the belief that somewhere within the depths of the demon that stood behind you, a fragment of the real Dean still existed.

But as the moments ticked by, the silence stretching taut between you, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt that whispered in the recesses of your mind. Would Dean ever be the same again? Or had he been consumed entirely by the darkness that now held him in its thrall?

With a trembling hand, you reached for the bottle of beer on the counter, the cold glass a tangible anchor in the storm of emotions that raged within you. And as you took a fortifying sip, steeling yourself for whatever came next.

Dean's voice cut through the silence like a blade, his words laced with a dark edge that sent a shiver down your spine. "Sweetheart", he drawled, the term dripping with mockery, a cruel reminder of the tender endearments he had once whispered in your ear. "Missed me, did you?", he taunted, his tone sending a chill down your spine.

You could feel his presence behind you, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer. The sensation sent a wave of unease washing over you, his proximity a stark reminder of the danger that lurked within him.

But even as his lips brushed against your ear, sending a shudder of revulsion coursing through you, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. The memory of the man you had once loved, the man buried beneath the darkness that now consumed him, lingered in the recesses of your mind, a faint echo of a love that refused to die.

And as his lips lingered against your ear, his touch a visceral reminder of the danger that surrounded you, you felt a flicker of defiance ignite within you. Steeling yourself against the fear that threatened to consume you, you squared your shoulders and met his gaze head-on.

"Dean". you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, "this isn't you. I know you're still in there, somewhere"-. It was a desperate plea, a faint glimmer of hope in the darkness that threatened to engulf you both.

But as you spoke, the shadow that lurked behind his eyes seemed to deepen. And though you longed to reach out and pull him back from the brink, to save him from the darkness that haunted him, you knew that the battle ahead would be fraught with peril.

For Dean wasn't just fighting against the darkness within him; he was fighting against the very essence of his own soul.

Dean’s words struck you like a barrage of bullets, each one piercing your heart with a searing pain that threatened to consume you.

“All I want is to fuck that tight little pussy of yours”, he sneered, his voice dripping with venomous lust. “Tried so many girls these past few weeks, but none of them felt like you”.

Your breath caught in your throat. His words were like a dagger to your soul, shredding any remaining fragments of hope or love you had clung to.

As he pressed you against the unforgiving surface of the kitchen counter, his touch rough and unforgiving, you felt a surge of pain shoot through your body. Bruises blossomed beneath his fingertips. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let him see your weakness.

You were overwhelmed, broken by his actions and his words, but you refused to let him break you completely.

“Stop talking”, you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

Dean's laughter echoed off the walls of the kitchen, a cruel symphony of mockery that reverberated in your ears like a relentless assault. The sound of it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Aw, sweetheart, don't tell me you're jealous", he taunted, his voice dripping with derision as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. "You wanna know how I fucked all those other girls while you were out there playing the hero, searching for me?".

The words hit you. You had risked everything to find him, to believe in the possibility of redemption, only to be met with scorn and betrayal.

But despite the pain, despite the overwhelming sense of despair that threatened to consume you, you refused to let him see your weakness.

"Go ahead", you spat, your voice laced with a bitter edge. "Show me. Show me just how little I meant to you. How easily you threw away everything we had".

And as he smirked, his features twisted with triumph, you braced yourself for the inevitable onslaught of pain and humiliation. Dean wasn't the man you had loved; he was a monster, a demon wearing the face of the man you once knew.

But even as he moved closer, his hands reaching for you with a hunger that made your skin crawl, you refused to back down. You were broken, yes, but you were not defeated. And as you stood your ground in the face of his darkness.

Dean's eyes gleamed as he leaned in closer. "Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea", he snarled, before he gripped your wrists with a force that made you flinch.

"I'm about to show you just how hard I fucked those sluts", he continued, his voice low and menacing. "Hard enough to land them in the hospital. They begged for it, you know. Begged for the touch of a real man".

The bile rose in your throat at his words, a sickening mixture of disgust and despair threatening to choke you. How could he speak of such violence with such casual indifference?

But even as the questions raced through your mind, you knew there would be no answers. Dean was lost. And as he moved closer, his hands trailing down your body with a possessiveness that made your skin crawl, you knew that this was about to get messy.

Dean's voice dripped with disdain as he sneered, "Where's your motivation, huh? You call yourself a hunter, but here you are, doing nothing to stop me". His words cut through the air like a whip, each syllable laced with hate.

You gritted your teeth against the surge of anger that threatened to consume you, meeting his gaze with a defiant glare. "My motivation", you spat, your voice trembling with suppressed rage, "is to stop you from hurting anyone else. To stop you from causing any more pain and suffering."

Dean's laughter echoed off the walls of the kitchen, a cruel mockery. "You really think you can stop me?", he taunted. "At the end of the night, sweetheart, I'll get what I came for. And there's nothing you can do to stop me".

“You´re pathetic, Dean”.

Dean's hand struck your cheek with a brutal force, the sharp crack of skin against skin echoing through the kitchen. Pain exploded across your face, a searing heat that radiated through every fiber of your being. You stumbled backward, the force of the blow sending you crashing against the wall, the impact jolting your already broken ribs.

Stars danced at the edges of your vision as you fought to regain your bearings, struggling to draw breath through the haze of pain that enveloped you. But even as you gasped for air, the taste of blood filling your mouth, you refused to let him see your weakness.

Dean loomed over you, his features contorted with a twisted mixture of triumph and cruelty. "Is that fire I see in you now, sweetheart?", he sneered, his voice a low, menacing growl. "Good. Because I want something to burn while I fuck you".

Your fists pounded against Dean's chest, each blow fueled by a desperate fury that threatened to consume you. But his laughter only grew louder.

"Aw, sweetheart, is that the best you can do?", he taunted. "I expected more from a hunter like you. But I guess I overestimated your abilities".

With a primal scream, you launched yourself at him once more, determined to land a blow that would wipe the smirk from his face.

But before your fist could connect, Dean moved with speed, his hand closing around your wrists with a vice-like grip. Pain exploded through your body as he squeezed, the bones in your wrists grinding together with a sickening crunch.

You cried out in agony as he pushed you against the kitchen table, the unforgiving surface digging into your spine. Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled against his iron grip, but it was futile. Dean was stronger, more powerful than you could ever be.

"Look at you, all fire and fury", he sneered, his breath hot against your ear. "But in the end, you're just a weak little girl, aren't you?".

With a trembling hand, you tried to push yourself up from the table, but Dean’s hand came down with a force that sent shockwaves of pain radiating through your body. You cried out as he pushed you back down, the unforgiving surface digging into your stomach, leaving you gasping for air.

“Oh, princess, don’t strain yourself”, he mocked. “You’re much prettier when you’re lying down”.

“You know, sweetheart”, Dean taunted. “I always did like a woman who knows her place. And your place is right here, beneath me”.

Dean's laughter filled the room like a sinister symphony, his eyes gleaming with pleasure as he towered over you. "Oh, sweetheart, look at you", he taunted. "All bruised and broken, yet still trying to get up. Admirable, really".

You winced as pain shot through your broken wrists and ribs, rendering you helpless against his looming presence. Every movement sent waves of agony coursing through your body, but you refused to let him see your weakness.

With deliberate slowness, Dean reached for his belt, his fingers tracing the buckle with a predatory precision. "You know, princess", he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, "I've been looking forward to this. Been craving it ever since I left".

Your heart pounded in your chest, a sickening mixture of fear and revulsion churning in the pit of your stomach. You wanted to scream, to fight back with every fiber of your being, but the pain held you captive, a prisoner in your own body.

As Dean slowly undid his belt, a smirk played across his lips, his eyes alight with twisted desire. "You're going to love this, sweetheart", he groaned, his voice laced with a dark promise. "I'll make sure of it".

You knew what was coming, but you were powerless to stop it.

Dean's grip tightened around you as he pushed you further down the table, his movements rough. You winced as your broken wrists bore the brunt of his force, each new position sending fresh waves of pain shooting through your body.

With a smirk, Dean reached for the waistband of your shorts and panties, his fingers trailing along the fabric with a slowness that made your skin crawl. "Let's see what we have here, shall we?", he mused, his voice thick with anticipation.

As he pulled them down, exposing your dry folds to his leering gaze, a wave of humiliation washed over you. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as if every last shred of your dignity had been stripped away.

Dean's eyes alight with amusement. "Well, well, well", he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. "Looks like you're making this harder than it should be, sweetheart. What's the matter? Not as wet as you used to be?".

You wanted to scream, but all you could do was lie there, exposed and humiliated, as Dean continued to mock and degrade you.

"Oh, sweetheart, this is going to hurt", he chuckled.

"You always did have trouble taking me, didn't you?", Dean jeered. "But don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make sure you feel every inch of me".

His words struck you like a physical blow, a reminder of the intimacy you once shared, now twisted into something dark and grotesque.

You lay on your stomach on the table, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you braced yourself for what was to come. Your ass faced Dean, vulnerable and exposed, as he hovered over you.

With a chuckle, Dean reached for his jeans and boxers, pulling them down just enough to free his throbbing length.

"Oh, sweetheart, look at what you're missing out on", he taunted. "You used to beg for this, didn't you? Beg for me to fill you up until you couldn't take it anymore".

As Dean moved closer, his hands tracing the lines of your body, you felt a surge of panic rise within you. But even as you struggled against him, you knew that resistance was futile. He was too strong, too powerful, and you were helpless to stop him.

With a hard thrust, Dean tried to shove himself inside you, but your tightness proved too much for him to handle. The pain was excruciating, a searing agony that threatened to consume you from within.

"Fuck", Dean cursed, his voice strained with frustration as he tried to force himself deeper. "Why do you have to be so fucking tight?".

Tears welled in your eyes as the pain intensified.

"Looks like I'll have to make do," he sneered, his voice thick with contempt as he spat down on his cock. "All because of you, princess. Can't even get wet for me anymore".

Dean gripped your hips with a brutal force, before he thrust himself forward once more. The pain was unbearable, a searing agony that threatened to consume you from within.

"Please, Dean, stop", you pleaded, your voice raw with desperation. But he only laughed, the sound ringing in your ears like a mocking taunt.

"Stop?", he scoffed, his grip on your hips tightening even further. "Why would I stop when we're just getting started, sweetheart?".

Tears streamed down your cheeks, knowing that there was no escape.

With a grunt of effort, Dean pushed himself inside you with force.

You cried out, the sound muffled by the unforgiving surface of the table beneath you, as he filled you with a brutal intensity.

"Fuck", Dean groaned, his voice strained with exertion. "You're so fucking tight".

As Dean continued to thrust into you with a relentless determination, the agony intensified, threatening to overwhelm you completely.

Your body bore the marks of Dean's brutal assault, bruises already blossoming across your skin despite his relentless onslaught having barely begun. Each movement sent shockwaves of pain rippling through your broken form, the agony etched into every line and contour of your battered body.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, silent yet relentless, as you fought to endure the torment that Dean inflicted upon you.

With a cruel grip, Dean pressed your head tighter against the table, his hands exerting a crushing force that threatened to suffocate you. "You're not enjoying this as much as I am, huh?", he taunted.

And then, with a suddenness that left you reeling, he pulled out completely, leaving you gasping for air as he prepared to thrust into you once more. "Let's see how much you can take", he growled.

The table shuddered beneath you as Dean drove himself into you with a brutal force, each movement wracking your body with a searing agony that threatened to consume you whole. "You like that?", he sneered, his voice laced with amusement. "Or do I need to go harder?".

Your pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as Dean continued his assault, his grip tightening in your hair, pulling your head up with a violent force. "Tell me how much you missed my big cock", he demanded, his voice a menacing growl as he forced you to look him in the eye.

You winced as your ribs cracked even further under the strain, the pain nearly unbearable as you struggled to form words through the agony. "Please", you gasped, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I can't...I can't do this anymore. Please, Dean, just stop".

But he only laughed, the sound sending a chill down your spine as he forced your head back down, his hands like vices around your hair. "Not good enough, sweetheart", he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Tell me you missed it. Tell me you've been dreaming about it every night since I left".

You choked back a sob, the words catching in your throat as you fought to resist his demands. But with each tug of his hands, each crack of your already fractured ribs, the pain became too much to bear. "I missed it", you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breaths. "I missed you".

His smirk widened at your admission.

"That's right, sweetheart", he groaned. "You missed me, didn't you? Missed my big cock pounding into you, making you scream".

With each brutal thrust, your cries of pain mingled with his laughter, the sound a symphony of torment that echoed off the walls. "Look at you", he sneered, his hands gripping your hips with a punishing force. "Crying like a little bitch while I fuck you senseless. You love it, don't you? Love being my little whore".

Dean's voice dripped with satisfaction as he hovered over you. "You feel so fucking good", he purred, his words like venom as he surveyed your broken form. "None of those other bitches could compare to you. None of them had that perfect ass and tits. None of them were as tight as you".

You winced as the pain in your ribs intensified with every thrust, each movement sending shockwaves of agony coursing through your body. It felt like your lungs were being crushed, the pressure unbearable as you struggled to draw breath.

Your face was red and swollen from being shoved over the table, tears mingling with sweat as you fought to endure the torment.

With a cruel grip, Dean pulled you around, forcing you to sit on the edge of the table. Your body felt heavy and limp, your senses dulled by the relentless onslaught of pain. You barely registered his rough handling as he grabbed your jaw with a painful force, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"Look at me", he snarled as his eyes transformed into pools of endless blackness. "I want you to see exactly who's doing this to you".

You whimpered weakly, your gaze meeting his dark, soulless eyes as he pushed himself inside you once more. The pain was blinding, a searing fire that threatened to consume you whole, but you were too far gone to fight back. Each movement leaving you teetering on the edge of consciousness.

"You're pathetic", he scoffed. "All this pain, and you still can't look away. You really are mine, aren't you?".

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to stay upright, your body wracked with pain and exhaustion.

Dean's grip tightened around your neck, nearly choking you as he held you up to keep you from falling. Your vision blurred, the edges of consciousness slipping away as the pain and lack of oxygen overwhelmed you. Yet, you remained trapped in his grasp, unable to break free from his cruel hold.

"You're still in love with me, aren't you?", Dean sneered, his voice dripping with disdain as he mocked your lingering affection. " You actually think there's redemption for me. How sweet".

Your breath came in ragged gasps, each word he spoke a dagger in your heart. The weight of his words, combined with the physical agony, threatened to crush your soul entirely.

Dean chuckled darkly, his grip on your neck tightening even further. "I'm going to come inside you. Every last drop. So that even when I'm gone, you'll still have a piece of me to remember".

As Dean's lips crashed against yours with brutal force, you felt the sting of his bite on your lip, drawing blood as a surge of pain shot through you. With a loud groan, he released himself inside you, his body trembling with the force of his release.

Through the haze of pain and exhaustion, you felt another rib give way under the pressure, causing agony to lance through your already battered body. But you were trapped, unable to move or escape as Dean held you there to steady himself.

"You took me so well", Dean murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he kissed your forehead tenderly. "You always gonna be my favorite".

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as he finally released his grip on you, leaving you slumped against the table, broken and defeated. "I'll come back for you", he whispered, his voice filled with a promise of further torment to come.

Before he left, Dean turned back to you, his eyes cold and devoid of any trace of humanity.

"Stop trying to heal me", he commanded, his voice laced with a chilling finality. "I'm beyond saving".

His words hung in the air like a heavy weight, crushing your hopes and shattering your illusions of redemption. With a heavy heart, you watched as he disappeared into the darkness, leaving you alone with your pain and despair.

As Dean's words echoed in your mind, the world around you faded into darkness. The pain, both physical and emotional, overwhelmed your senses, pulling you into unconsciousness.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 I'm thinking about turning this into a multi-part Story. You up?

Part 2

#jensen ackles #spn #smut #dean winchester #supernatural #demon dean #demon dean x Reader #hurtful #rapekink #misogny #deanwinchtser #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n

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topofmythighs · 1 year ago

Note

demon dean smut 👀👀👀

speaking in tongue

demon!dean winchester x she/her reader

rundown: it's gettin' hawt in here!!! demon!dean fucks his gf and that's basically it

word count: 3k

warnings: where do we start? corruption!kink, sub x dom themes, oral, p in v pen., master!kink, cnc???, pain!kink, breeding!kink,

navigating the depths of her relationship with dean has always been difficult; he is the definition of closed off. working through typical relationship issues is easy for the two of them, but it’s the most profound secrets that dean keeps locked away even from sam that drive them apart. still, even with the disagreements and frequent pleas for dean to let her into his mind, she stays, because she promised she would.

it’s difficult, though, to not poke and prod at the mind of her lover as he shifts from mortal to demon.

dean’s more violent — hedonistic, even — but he’s almost more open than her true lover is. as the two of them sit across from each other at the bunker’s table, drinks in hand, she can’t help but purse her lips at the thought of asking more.

“go ahead, sweetheart,” dean smirks.

she sighs as she stares into her drink, nervous to look up and see the green eyes of her lover replaced with depthless, soulless black ones. she wishes sam was here — she knows he would want to ask questions, too — but he had to flea the bunker with castiel. (he begrudgingly left her there, but with dean’s lack of plans to harm her, sam trusted that she would call him if something went wrong.)

“it’s hard to not pick your brain,” she finally says, looking up slowly at dean.

he smirks, taking a swig of his drink. “i’m an open book.”

“yeah, but, he’s not.” she sighs, also taking a drink of her whiskey. “i just - i want to know what he thinks of me. i need to know. i know he loves me — we’ve been together for what feels like forever — but he’s just so shut-out and--“

“and don’t you think it’s time you know what he thinks of you, sweetheart?” dean asks, looking at her with a quizzed look so human that she almost believes she’s talking to dean. within an instant, he’s at her side, leaning against the table. his warm, calloused hand, the same as dean's, cups her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. she swallows thickly as her blood freezes up in her body. “you know he loves you, sweetheart. i’ve always been here — watching, waiting to come out and talk to you. to tell you what he thinks of you, how he feels about you.”

“do i want to know?” she whispers, feeling the grip on her jaw tighten.

she’s scared and flustered. her mind is swirling, trying to wrap around itself that this is not dean in any other way than physically. he lets her jaw go with a quick jerk, crouching down in front of her.

“he thinks about you all the time. touching you, fucking you,” he purrs. he watches the blush rise on her face, and just to be an asshole, he tacks on, “it’s gross, to be honest.”

“keep it in your pants,” she mutters, glaring at him and drinking down her whiskey.

he spins her chair to face him. sitting down on his knees, he places his hands on hers, gripping hard.

“ow,” she winces. “please,” she says, “please take your hands off of me.”

“ah, ah, ah. what you aren’t getting, sweetheart,” he says coldly, “is that even if you hate me, you love him.” he pushes himself up off of the ground and leans in close to her. “and right now, we are one.”

she stares into his eyes and shakily puts her hands on his cheeks as his hands grip tight on the arms of the chair. “baby,” she whispers, pleading. “if you can hear me, please know i’m here.”

“he knows, sweetheart,” dean whispers. “he can hear you. we can hear you.” dean looks into her eyes, smiling pridefully at her.

she takes a deep breath in, looking one last time into his green eyes, before guiding his lips to hers. she kisses him deeply, trying to feel dean amidst the demon.

“not so fast,” dean says. his ultimate speed has their positions flipped within seconds. she sits on his lap, hands still on his cheeks. “if we’re doing this, and trust me, we want this,” he purrs, “you need to understand that you don’t control me.” she nods quickly, frightened to do anything he doesn’t want her to. “but just because i’m some cold-blooded killer that has it out for every mortal around him,” he chuckles, “doesn’t mean i’m gonna hurt you, sweetheart. i don't want no angels or hunters after me. i don’t have a death wish.”

“they couldn’t stop you anyway,” she whispers, feeling herself relax into his hands that are tight on her hips.

he smiles at her. “that’s my girl.”

his hands find her hair quickly, pulling her down into a deep kiss. her arms wrap around his neck as her body slowly sinks down onto his. she’s still unsure if her heart has stopped beating, but she feels his hand find her lower back and gently press her body down more.

“you’re okay, sweetheart,” dean murmers, and she swears that was really him. her legs finally relax and settle themselves on either side of his thigh, feeling the denim-to-denim contact. her arms tighten around him, and her lips find his neck where she places small kisses up and down it.

testing the waters, she grabs a fistful of dean’s hair at the back of his neck as she kisses it, and she feels his hips buck up to hers.

“god,” dean whispers. “don’t make me feel like some desperate teenager here, baby girl.”

she smiles as she continues to kiss. she gently grinds her hips down against his thigh, staying very close to his body and keeping her movements slow. “don’t mean to,” she whispers back. “just trying to enjoy all of you.”

"we've got time, baby," he purrs, his hands roaming her thighs. he tilts his head back, savouring the wet, open-mouthed kisses that she continues to leave all over his throat.

the grip his hands have on her thighs leaves a searing pain behind, so she pushes herself away from his delicious skin to peek and see if the denim of her jeans has been burned away. she grabs his shoulders to steady herself, wincing as he squeezes harder.

she stares at her thighs, expecting burning flesh to be escaping the denim, but there's nothing there.

"ow," she whines, eyes meeting the demon's soulless black ones.

he smirks at her, peeling his hands off her thighs. "feel that?"

"yeah, it hurts like hell," she mumbles.

her jaw is grabbed once again by the familiar calloused hand, and her mouth hangs open slightly.

"i didn't ask for the attitude, sweetheart," dean snarls. "all that pain? means your little boyfriend is here, feeling all of this and watching us like a pervert in a movie theatre."

his eyes melt green again, and the combination of a mention of a mortal dean mixed with his luscious green eyes allows her body to fall slack. she drops back down onto dean's thighs and drools, coating his hand in spit. he smiles slyly at her, pulling his hand off her face before leaving a hard, aggressive slap to her cheek. he places his thumb in her still-open mouth and forces her face back to his. her mouth instinctively closes around his thumb.

"my good girl," he says, a hand finding her waist.

she smiles around his thumb, her cheek wet from her own spit being slapped onto it. she very slowly leans forward until her head rests on dean's shoulder and gently grabs hold of dean's wrist. she rests against him for a moment, feeling the pulse of his cock against her core every time she sucks on his thumb (she swears her heartbeat matches the rhythm of his dick.). her body goes slack, recovering from the pain in her thighs and on her face.

if she was in any other state of mind, she would be the utmost apprehensive woman in the world. if dean truly is watching, she has no doubt in her mind that he will condemn her for feeling safe in the arms of a demon. but as she lays here with her head on his shoulder and his protective arm around her, she wonders if there's some form of loneliness that drives a demon's anarchy.

she sits up, tired of thinking. she gently pulls his thumb out of her mouth, then presses a kiss to his lips. her shakey fingers unbutton his red shirt, and she feels a surge of wetness overtake her when she feels how incredibly hot dean's skin is.

dean can't help but admire her. he watches her as she licks her lips, and he feels his shirt coming undone. her eyes are huge and innocent, glistening like she's experiencing this for the first time. he knows she's focusing too much on the heat of his skin, overthinking about how close dean of the subconscious is watching, so he guides her hands to the tent in his jeans.

"we want you, sweetheart," he purrs, his hand looming over hers.

"take me," she whispers, so quiet that even with exaggerated senses, dean can barely hear her.

his inhumane speed brings her up onto the table with her jeans pulled off her legs. he smirks at her soaked thong - once a baby pink turned a deep rose from the amount of wetness her body has made. he pulls her to the edge of the table, kneeling down on the floor to press kisses to her thighs.

her hands try to push his head away. "no, please! he hasn't - it's been too long! i don't want you there, i want him."

dean smiles up at her from in between her thighs. "he's always here, babygirl."

he pulls her underwear to the side, immediately licking up all of the slick that her warm pussy made. she releases a loud, pornstar moan, her hands finding dean's hair quickly. he kisses her pussy, and she swears she can hear him growling from in between her thighs. she moans louder, hoping his dick throbs harder.

it must have, because his mouth finds her clit and sucks hard, eliciting a long, loud whine from her spit-covered lips. her hands are tight in his hair, the tension in her body having nowhere to escape but her hands. dean continues to lick and suck at her clit, making her whine and moan like she's never been touched before.

"need, need you," she groans, feeling dean's fingers dig deep into her thighs.

he comes up for air, pressing kisses anywhere he can. she swears she feels her dean here with her.

"need me?" dean whispers, his eyes staring into hers. she moans at his deep voice, swearing it rumbles through her. her head tilts back, and, within mere seconds, her body bounces off of dean's soft, memory foam mattress. she hears her breath catch in her throat, to which he smirks. "too fast for you, sweetheart?"

she shakes her head quickly as her hands find his belt and button. "like it," she mutters, her thoughts flowing too quickly to focus on anything but touching dean's cock.

when it sits in the palm of her hand, hard and hot, she whines and feels a gush of wetness fall over the tops of her thighs. she immediately tries to position his cock against her entrance, but he grabs her wrist.

"one thing about us, sweetheart," dean says, "is nothing turns us on more than watching those angel eyes suck cock." he smirks at her as she nods feverishly.

he flips their positions, allowing himself to sit against the headboard while she lays in between his thighs. her ass is high in the air as she wraps her hand around his cock again, licking up his long, veiny cock. he grabs her hair immediately, allowing her brain to turn off and her mouth to be used.

"pretty girl," dean mumbles, moaning as he face fucks her. her eyes are glazed over when she looks up at him, and she moans around his cock as those beautiful, green eyes watch her suck his cock. he holds her head down, her nose just an inch away from his pelvis. she gags, and usually dean would let up, but this time, he holds her head still.

she moves her hands up his thighs, digging her nails into them, letting him know it's too much. he doesn't let up until she draws blood just one gag later.

"bitch," he mutters, as he pulls her up by her hair. he watches his doll catch her breath, a long line of spit keeping her mouth connected to his cock. her eyes are watery, and a few tears have slipped down her face. small traces of makeup are smeared over her face.

their eyes meet, and his black, soulless ones switch back to his crystal clear, serpentine green eyes. he immediately pulls her onto him, his large protective hands rubbing her back. "i'm sorry, angel," he mutters.

she pulls herself up, and her legs straddle his hips. she keeps herself close to him as he kisses her head. his kisses lead onto her face, eliciting a small, fucked-out smile from her.

"it's okay, master," she whispers, peeling his hands from her face and pressing kisses onto his wrists, desperate to feel the human in him. as she does, he rubs his cock over her wet pussy, making her whine and hide her face in his hand.

she grabs his hand and tangles their fingers together, pushing herself up onto her knees to sink down onto his cock. she watches her boyfriend's face fall into the expression it always does when she takes it all; his mouth open, eyes closed, and his chest tight with air.

"i'll always let you do whatever you want to me, sir," she says, rocking her hips back and forth on his dick.

he smacks her ass, and a deep burning sensation flows through her veins. she knows her dean is gone again, taken over by the demon yet again.

"good girl," he says, watching her intently. he watches exactly where their bodies connect.

whether it's the demon's energy coursing through her boyfriend's body or the fact that she hasn't been fucked this hard in a few months, she finds it hard to take all of dean's cock. still, she does her best, feeling electricity course through her pussy whenever she sinks down all the way. she knows from the burning that dean is there. trapped in his mind, but he's there.

knowing he's there brings her an odd source of comfort. she wants to put on a show for him, and she wants to stay on this demon's good side. she hopes that he can feel everything the way she is. she rocks her hips again, feeling dean's fat cock hit her g-spot. she lets out a very loud moan, squeezing dean's hand harder as she rides.

dean groans, too. "fuck, babygirl," he mutters. "so fucking wet."

she caresses his face with her free hand, stilling her hips. "sir?" she asks quietly.

he smirks at her shyness, bucking his hips up into her. "yes, sweetheart?"

she squeezes his hand again, and to her surprise, he squeezes back. her hands feel like she's touching a hot stove. she blushes, knowing dean's right there. "make me squirt?"

his eyes roll back as he groans, and his lightning speed flips them into doggy quickly. he places her head into the pillows and grabs her hips, fucking her soaking wet pussy hard and fast.

"sir, sir, fuck!" she screams, feeling her hips burn where his fingertips squeeze. "i need," she moans. "need your cum."

"fuck, sweetheart," dean says, slowing down his speed a bit. he chuckles. "your boyfriend in here does not want me to do that."

her laboured breathing makes her choke out, "since when did you care?"

he laughs again. "you're a dirty whore. i like it."

she smiles into the pillows and wiggles her ass, begging for him to fuck her harder. he finds his rhythm again, and within a moment, she's finding his wrist and squeezing hard as she cums around his cock.

"don't stop, sir, please, don't stop!" she can feel the tension in her tummy build up again, and she's excited to see how worked up her mortal body can make a demon.

he keeps his pace, slapping her ass and fucking her pussy deep.

"fuck, your pussy is so good, doll," he mutters. "you want a demon to cum in you?"

she nods her head yes. "want your babies," she whispers, instantly regretting her dirty words.

dean haults, flipping her onto her back. "gonna watch that pretty face."

she smiles, grabbing his face for a kiss. his hands fist the pillow around her head, and he fucks her wet, warm pussy until his cum spills into her. the feeling of his thick load inside her makes that rope in her tummy snap, and she's begging him to fuck her hard again. he does, and she squirts as he fucks his cum deeper into her.

she cries out loudly as her body winds down from its high. dean switches them so she can lay on his chest. he rubs her body all over, and if her mind wasn't gone, she would easily overthink why he's showing her any sort of care.

her leg loosely wraps around his hips, and her arms wrap around his chest. he presses kisses to her head, petting her hair.

"y'know," he starts. "takes a real strong man to fight off total possession." she nods dumbly against his chest, just happy to feel the vibrations of his voice from his chest in her ear. "your man's got a lot of willpower to get back to you, sweetheart."

she nods again, pulling herself onto him more. "thank you for not hurting me, dean."

he smiles at her, and his hands continue to rub all over her body. "i still don't have a death wish, babygirl."

#dean winchester #deanmon #demon dean smut #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural smut #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #dean winchester fanfiction

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impala-dreamer · 4 months ago

Text

When The Rivers Rise

A Supernatural Story

~Alone and unprepared, Y/N goes to collect Dean from the bar and convince him to come home. Sam says he has a cure, and she'll be damned if she doesn't at least try to get Dean on board...~

Demon!Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel

6,331 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Angst, Smut, Demonic Charm, Fingering and Fucking, Mild Violence, Canon Everything, Choking During Sex, Choking not during sex, Lose of consciousness, Yada Yada

A/N: So basically, I took S10 E2 & 3 and smushed this in there. Please enjoy. I did. Published to Patron June 5, 2023

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

The Flamingo Lounge was filthy. The parking lot was fenced in, littered with trash; its brick walls covered in graffiti as if the city’s youth used it as a canvas. Luckily, though, it seemed empty.

Y/N parked her car in the lot, not caring to lock the doors behind her. She double checked the syringes stashed in her jacket, made sure her gun clip was full. Really, there was no way to know what she was walking into, but she had to try, had to do something.

And she had to do it quick. If she knew where he was, so did Sam, and God only knew what Sam would be planning.

She walked in through the side door, letting her heavy boots thud and announce her presence. There was no reason to hide, anyway. Sneak attacks were never her speciality.

Soft piano notes filled the air, a half plucked melody that never quite turned into a song.

The room smelled of lingering cigarette smoke and stale beer, whiskey and maraschino cherries. The bar stools were vacant, the room empty save for the bartender and her target. She stopped by the counter; blue neon light shining down on her face. She grit her teeth and cleared her throat.

The music stopped and he looked up with a smile.

“Hey, Y/N.”

Dean. Her pulse quickened.

“Didn’t expect to see you.” His jaw twitched as he looked her over. “Thought it’d be Sammy who came callin’.” He cocked his head to the side, cracking his neck unnaturally.

Not Dean.

“Yeah, well, I thought I’d come see you first. Save him a trip.” Her voice felt so small. It crackled in her ears as fear welled up inside. She’d been tracking Dean for months and now, standing half a room away, she felt unprepared and severely out matched.

Dean chuckled under his breath and spun on the piano bench. His legs spread as he straddled the cushioned wood and he rubbed a hand down his thigh. Green eyes were piercing through her and Y/N shivered. She hadn’t felt his stare in forever, hadn’t known she’d feel it ever again.

He stood and she instinctively reached for her pistol.

“You know you can’t just shoot me, Y/N.”

He blinked. Blackness overtook the green and her heart sank. He could see it in her face, smell it pulsing off of her like thick perfume. She was terrified, disappointed, intrigued.

He laughed and made his way to the bar. “Oh. You weren’t sure, were you?”

She swallowed hard. “Sure about what?”

“About me.” He nodded at the bartender and Harv took a walk, dropping his drying rag on the bartop. “You knew what happened, that I’m… different now. Better. But you didn’t really believe it, did you?”

Shit.

Y/N dropped her hand to her side, dug her nails into her palm to steady herself. “Not really, no.”

Another little laugh left his lips as he leaned over the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. He cast a glance back at her, his eyes green again, his gaze hungry.

“Well, believe it. I’m new and improved, babydoll.”

His tone washed over her. There was a new grit in his voice, a different confidence that was so unlike him but so very much Dean that it made her head hurt.

“You’re a demon.”

He shrugged and plucked two glasses from the drying rack, turning them over. “Yeah. Cool, ain’t it?”

Y/N bit her tongue hard, hoping the quick flash of pain would clear her head a bit. “Not cool, Dean,” she spat. “Evil.”

One elbow on the bar, he turned to face her and grinned. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t know evil if you were stuck in Hell with it. Which…” He looked around at the empty room and laughed. “I guess you kinda are.”

The emptiness of the room suddenly weighed down on her and Y/N took in a deep breath to steady her shaking hands.

Dean filled both glasses and then slid one across the bar for her. “Drink up. You’ll need it.”

Nervously, she stepped up to the bar and took the glass between her fingers. “Why? You gonna kill me?”

He sucked his teeth and let his gaze fall down her body, remembering, enjoying. “Maybe.”

Her heart thudded in her ears. “You haven’t decided yet?”

Dean knocked back his drink. “Nope.”

“That’s bullshit.” She took a sip and it burned down her throat.

“What?”

“You decided the second I walked in here.”

Dean refilled his glass while keeping one eye on her. “Actually, I didn’t. I was too curious to worry about what I’m gonna do to you.”

Y/N held the tumbler to her lips, breathed in the oaky fumes. “Curious?”

“Well, you walked in here, alone…” He licked his lips. “Lookin’- mighty tasty if you don’t mind me sayin’.”

Fuck.

Her blood sizzled. “I do mind. Asshole.”

Dean smirked and took a long drink. “And I thought to myself, Y/N’s a smart girl. She’s gotta have some kinda plan. Wouldn’t just walk in here by herself with no backup, no weapons, no nothing. She’s not an idiot.”

He paused to watch her reaction and found her stronger than he thought. She held his gaze without faltering and he moved closer.

“So, tell me, Y/N, was I right? Are you smarter than you look?” He licked a drop of whiskey from the corner of his mouth. “What’s the big plan?”

She refused to look at him lest she lose her nerve. She finished the last sip of whiskey and then pulled her weapons from her jacket. On the bar, she laid down her gun and three syringes filled with a harsh sedative. The smooth, eternally cool handle of the angel blade pressed into her side, but she kept it hidden beneath her shirt.

“There. There’s my plan.” She turned to face him and swept her hand over the weapons.

“You were gonna- what? Force me to OD?” He grinned, flashing perfectly white teeth and the pink tip of his tongue.

Y/N shook her head. “It wouldn’t kill you. Just knock you out.”

“And then?”

Her shoulders rose and fell in a confessional shrug. “Honestly, Dean, I didn’t think I’d even get this far, so… there’s no and then. Bring you home, I guess.”

“What if I don’t wanna go home?” he asked, taking a step closer. “What if I don’t have a home anymore?”

She held her breath. “You do. You’ll always have a home, Dean. Whether you want it or not.”

He laughed. “Lemme guess. Home is wherever you and Sam are. Where we chose to hang our hats.” He shook his head and sighed. “Home is dead, Y/N.”

Her heart ached. “It doesn’t have to be. If you come back with me, maybe we can-”

“What?” He cut her off. “Maybe we can pretend everything’s good? Play house? Oh, you wanna try being boyfriend and girlfriend again, act like we have a future?”

His words were a knife, but she bit her tongue again, refusing to give him a reaction. “Don’t be cruel, Dean. I’m trying to help you.”

He sucked in a breath and turned away. “See, I don’t really care about being helped. I’m fine. You’re the one who’s gonna need help in a minute.”

She pressed her arm down against the blade, reassuring herself that it was there and ready.

“You’re not gonna kill me, Dean.”

He looked back over his shoulder. “We’ll see.”

“Whatever happened to you,” she said, hope burning on her lips. “Whatever this is… It can be undone. You’re still you. You’re still Dean Winchester. You’re still-”

“Still what?” He spun on his heel and towered over her. “The man you love?”

Pain twitched around her eyes. “Yes.”

“You know what you are? You’re a sad little girl playing with shit she don’t understand.”

She stood up tall, finding strength in the marrow of her bones. “Sam has the cure. He can-”

Dean laughed and backed up, cocky and amused. “Sam’s probably dead right about now. I don’t know how much good his cure will do.”

Y/N froze. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Dean clicked his tongue and smiled. “Some assclown called me from his phone. Got baby Sammy all tied up in a shed somewhere doing… something. I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening. But, that was a while ago. I assume he’s…” He slit his throat with a single finger and stuck his tongue out, mocking Sam’s apparent death.

Y/N shuddered, unable to hide the truth from him.

“So you didn’t know.” He spun back to the bad. “Sorry. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

She cleared her throat, pushed the worry aside. “That’s exactly what I came to do.”

She took a chance, lunging for the gun on the bar, but Dean got to it first, expertly disarming it and tossing it aside.

“You’re too slow, Y/N. Always have been.”

He poured them another drink while she regrouped.

“Tell me, how is it you don’t know where Sam is? You two’ve been attached at the hip forever.”

A bit of whiskey sloshed out of her glass and flooded the bar. She went to it, lifting her cup from the mess. “Yeah, not so much anymore.”

Dean leaned in, condescendingly. “Wanna talk about it?”

Y/N took a drink. “No.”

A month ago, Sam was losing his mind to grief and obsession, pushing Y/N aside at every turn as he tried to find his brother. The last straw was a torture session in a barn in Kentucky. Sam was slicing up a demon, carving into its stolen flesh, and when Y/N protested, he hit her, knocking her back against the rotting walls. They tumbled, fighting, screaming at each other while the demon watched, cackling from the center of the Devil’s Trap. When the dust cleared and Y/N came up bloody and bruised, she spat in Sam’s direction and told him to go to Hell. That was the last she’d seen or heard from him. He was on the same mission, but going about it in all the wrong ways.

She stared at the neon sign behind the bar. “We’re not exactly speaking anymore.”

Dean hummed and refilled his glass. “Funny. You and me in the same boat.”

Y/N huffed. “I chose this boat, Dean. You didn’t.”

He grinned. “You don’t think so? You don’t know all the fun I’ve had this summer, all the trouble I’ve gotten into. All the tail I’ve chased… and gotten.” She flinched, but he kept going. “All the drugs, the fights, the booze. It’s been a great time. You should join me.”

She laughed bitterly and downed her drink. “Pass.”

He frowned, mockingly. “I’m sorry. Does hearing all that hurt your feelings? All those chicks I’ve banged, dudes I’ve nailed… makes ya jealous don’t it?”

Y/N sighed and turned to look at him. “No. Just sad for you. And them.”

He took a step and she balked, moving away from the bar, her defenses on edge.

“Come on, now. I’m the best you’ve ever had. And I’ve only gotten better.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Dean grinned. “Baby, you have no idea.”

He moved closer, stalking towards her, forcing her to back up. His eyes were fixed on her face, intent obvious. His mouth parted gently as his tongue came forth to tease her, wet his plump lips. A strange mix of panic and arousal swelled in her gut and she reached into her jacket, pulling the angel blade free.

“Stop!” She twirled the blade in her hand and held it out in warning.

Dean laughed. “Really?”

“This kills anything, right? Human, angel… demon. If you’re two outta three, I got a fighting chance.”

Her voice was shaking as hard as her hand and Dean kept coming, boots thumping the stained carpet.

“Stay back!” she yelled, spreading her feet and bending her knees, taking a fighting stance.

Dean swept forward in a flash and grabbed her wrist. He twisted hard and she held back a scream as the bones threatened to snap.

The blade fell to the floor.

“Get off me,” she snarled.

Dean’s right hand curled against her lower back and he leaned in close, breathing in her scent. “You don’t mean that.”

Frozen, caught and confused, she gasped as he bent to kiss her. Squirmed as his tongue poked between her lips, thrashed as his fingers tensed on her ass. Swooned as the kiss lingered.

Fuck.

It was warm and wet and so Dean. She hummed despite herself and freaked out when he pulled away. She slapped his chest, shoved him hard.

Again, he pulled her close and his lips found hers. He licked at her mouth and exhaled into her, flooding her brain with desire, washing her body in lust filled memory.

“Stop it!”

Once more, she shoved him back with all her might, but it only made him angry. He stumbled back a pace and dipped his chin, daring her, enticing her, tugging on every string.

Oh god…

“Just- stay back!”

Dean’s upper lip twitched and he bared his teeth, advancing on her like a wolf in the wilderness. He wrapped himself around her, pushing her back until she hit the piano. Nowhere to go, she melted in his arms, let him probe her hot mouth, let him slip his knee hard between her thighs.

She gasped, hating herself for loving him. Hating her love for getting in the way.

“Stop.”

He pulled back an inch, burning into her with familiar green eyes. “If you really want me to stop, I will. Just say it.”

His breath struck her face, that dreamlike mix of whiskey and smoke and long faded mint. Her eyes fluttered and her pussy clenched. “No.”

He grinned, let his fingers trail down her cheek to wrap loosely around her throat. “No you want me to stop or no, you don’t won’t say it?”

Unable to think, to speak, to reason herself out of the moment, Y/N grabbed at his flannel with both hands and tugged him down. She licked at his lips, sucked on his tongue until he growled against her, thrust his hips into her.

“Knew you were good to go,” he moaned, fumbling with the zipper of her jeans.

Y/N clawed a hand through his hair and tugged, yanking his head to the side and licking at the sacred vein. She pressed her lips there and felt his heart beating steady. He still had a heart.

“Miss you so much,” she whispered, half gasping as he tore at her bottoms, tearing the denim from her hips.

“Oh, I know you did.”

He grabbed at her sides, slid his hands up beneath her arms and lifted. Her bare ass squeaked on the piano lid and Dean closed in on her, pushing her onto her back with a heavy kiss. She spread her knees around him, tugged him closed with her heels on his ass. He snuck a hand between them and grinned against her lips.

“You did miss me, huh?”

She nodded, breathless as he shoved a finger into her.

“So tight.” He added another and she gasped. “Thought you’d be runnin’ around like a cat in heat without me, but looks like you’ve been a good girl. Kept yourself all tight and virginal for me.”

Her nails scraped at his scalp. “I don’t know about virginal…”

A third finger jammed into her and Y/N bit her lip as the stretch burned.

“You been fucking other guys behind my back?”

His ring finger barely made it inside and her pussy clenched down hard on him.

“Nah.” He grinned and nipped at her lips. “You ain’t been doing nothing but dreaming about me, have you?”

She wanted to scream, to push him off, to run, but there was no escape. Not when he had his lips on her throat and his body pressed so hard against her.

“Yes…”

He pulled his hand away and pressed two fingers to her clit, watching in delight as he eyes lit up and a silent scream filled her mouth.

“You could come with me, you know.”

She snapped her jaw shut tight. “No.”

Drawing his left hand firmly down her body, he stopped at her hip and tugged her shirt up, exposing the blank protective ink over the bone. His thumb ran over the tattoo. “Sure you could,” he explained. “I’ll just cut this off… drag some bitch outta Hell… stuff her into you.”

Her body jerked as he forced his hand back into her cunt and Y/N grit her teeth. “Wouldn’t be me then, would it?”

He paused and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess not.” He tugged the shirt up higher and smiled as the thin cotton of her bra did little to hide her pert nipple. “I like you like this anyway. All scared and confused.” He dropped down and sealed his lips around the bud, tugging hard.

Y/N squirmed and let out a cry that rang like music in his ears.

“Fuck, I missed that sound.” He sucked again and bit down. “The whores I’ve been picking up lately, they just- it ain’t the same.” He straightened up and looked down at her. “Sex is just sex until you learn someone’s body. You can’t really fuck someone the right way until you learn how. You gotta pay attention… learn what makes them… squirm. What makes them scream...” He crooked his fingers and Y/N squealed, her thighs slamming shut around his arm. “See? Just like that.”

“Fuck, please!”

Her lips were burning from his kisses, stubbled lips leaving the ghost of his touch behind. Her body was aching, throbbing from his fingers, dripping down onto the piano.

“Dean-”

He bit his bottom lip and let it fall slowly away. “Love hearing my name like that. Never gets old.”

He pulled away before she could cum, leaving her struggling and needy. She reached for him, but he slapped her hands away and unbuckled his jeans.

“Lay still,” he grit.

Y/N sealed her lips shut and clutched the hem of her shirt. She eyed the exit, thought about jumping down and taking her chances outrunning him, but before she could take a deep enough breath, Dean jutted his hips against her and his cock slipped between her swollen lips.

Her shoulders jolted upright and Dean grabbed the back of her neck, tugging her down toward the edge of the piano. Her ass was hanging, teetering off the side, and she grabbed at his shirt, holding on as he fucked deep into her.

“That’s it,” he grunted, one hand on her hip, the other on her throat. “Fuck, I remember this cunt. So fucking wet for me. So tight.”

She gasped, eyes wide, heart racing. His thumb covered her pulse and he pushed down just enough to blur the edges of her vision.

“D-Dean!”

His hips snapped upwards, his breath quickened. He squeezed her throat tighter and watched as the color drained from her lips.

“That’s it, babydoll,” he urged. “Gonna get you nice and dizzy so you cum hard. I know you like that…”

She could feel it building, that tightness inside as he hit every spot she’d been unable to reach herself.

Green eyes blurred in her vision and then with a grin, he snapped them to black.

Y/N came instantly, her cunt pushing and pulling on his thick cock; a flood of warmth slicking down his thighs.

“Yes…” He thrust harder. “Yes… Just like that!” His roar was intense and Y/N’s eyes began to roll, her heart struggling to beat. “Yes!”

The room was fading to white; her head was spinning. Still throbbing, her cunt was the only thing responding as Dean finished with a grunting cry. Just before her eyes rolled back, he released his grip and oxygen flooded her brain.

Y/N gasped and caught herself, falling back onto her elbows on the polished wood. “Fuck!”

Dean flashed a cocky grin and tucked himself away, uncaring of the mess. “You still got it, Y/N/N.”

His wink was uncalled for and aggravating, but Y/N had no energy to clap back at him. Carefully, she rolled onto her belly and slid off the piano. Her muscles were aching, her flesh on fire.

Dean headed back to the bar and poured another round. He walked a little slower, his voice rolled a little smoother off his devilish tongue.

“Can’t say I’m mad you stopped by,” he joked, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Turned out pretty good after all.”

Y/N yanked her jeans up and grimaced as the seam scraped at her raw pussy. “Just think how much better it would be at home, in the Bunker, where you belong.”

He laughed. “Really? After all that, you’re gonna try again?”

She stumbled forward, grabbing the bar for support. “I gotta keep trying, Dean. You need help.”

Sighing, he knocked back his glass. “See, that’s where you’re still wrong.”

Behind him, the door creaked open and Y/N’s eyes went towards the light.

Dean didn’t have to turn around, he knew.

“Hiya, Sam.”

Shit.

Sam let the door shut behind him and he walked in, arm held in a sling, face cut up and bruised.

He locked eyes with Y/N and her stomach tensed. They hadn’t spoken in weeks, and seeing him now, it all rushed back to her.

“Sam.”

He nodded at her and moved to stand equidistant from her and Dean. The triangle was a familiar one, but strange altogether.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, eyes flickering between them.

Y/N swallowed down her anger and swept the sweaty hair from her eyes. “Same as you, I guess.”

Dean laughed. “I highly doubt he’s here for that, Sweetheart.” He brought his right hand to his lips and licked her taste from his fingers. “Unless…”

She shuddered and Sam’s brow creased.

“We’re gonna take you home, Dean,” Sam said, ignoring the obvious sexual confession. He turned his back on Y/N and focused on his brother.

Dean rolled his eyes. ”Yeah, I don’t think so. I told you to let me go.”

Sam’s shoulders tensed. “You know I can’t do that.”

Dean pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah. Well…” Reaching behind him, he pulled the First Blade from his belt and showed it to them both. “Sucks to be you, don’t it?”

For a moment, Y/N felt calm. Almost as if her soul had decided to give up all hope and accept the fact that Death was on His way. She exhaled slowly and imagined what it would feel like, that sharp jaw bone splitting her in half, gouging through her chest with one quick sweep of Dean’s hand. Would he be quick or let her linger? Would he weep for her in the end? Would he care?

Sam held up a hand, begging for patience. “Dean, you don’t have to do this. We can cure demons-”

Glass shattered behind Y/N and she turned to see the window break. A smoking canister landed by her feet and she looked at Dean, confused and flooded with panic. As her brain and feet got themselves together, the smoke rose around her and she covered her mouth and nose, too late. She started to choke her and beside her, Sam coughed loudly, waving at the smoke to push it away. He inhaled too deeply and stumbled forward, grabbing her shoulder for support. She buckled under his weight and fell to her knees in the cloud. It strangled her from every side, burning her lungs, stinging her eyes. She crawled towards the door and felt Sam’s big hand on her back, pulling her to her feet.

“Come on!”

He hit the door, pushing it open and knocking fresh air into the room, but it was already inside of them.

Y/N staggered out behind him, barely able to stay on her feet.

Confused and bleary-eyed she saw Sam fall, knocked out by a stranger’s fist.

She rushed out of the bar, leaving the smoke behind and slamming into the arms of Sam’s kidnapper.

“Who the hell are you?”

Blue eyes and a crew cut stared back at her and Y/N coughed, expelling poison from her lungs.

“Me?” she swayed on her feet and swatted at him. “Who the fuck are you!”

Cole grit his teeth and pulled a gun from his thigh holster, easily spinning to take Y/N in his arms and aim the muzzle at her temple.

From the back of the parking lot, Dean appeared, cool and seemingly unaffected by the attack. He held out his arms, cocked a brow as he looked at Cole, wondering who the fuck was bothering him now.

Y/N held still but seethed, nostrils flaring, anger sloshing about in her dizzy head.

Cole’s forearm pressed hard against her throat and he pointed the gun at Dean.

“Wow. It’s really you.”

Dean clicked his tongue. “We met?”

“Talked on the phone.”

“Right.” Dean laughed under his breath. “You’re the guy who’s supposed to put a bullet in Sammy’s brain.” He dipped his chin and smirked, cocky and unimpressed. “Did you miss?”

Dean took a step and Cole tightened up. Y/N clawed at his arm but didn’t have the strength to fight him off.

“Dean-” Her voice was shattered and weak.

Cole pressed the gun against her head again. “You stay there or I’ll-”

“What?” Dean leaned in casually. “You’ll put a bullet in her too? You don’t exactly have a great track record for that.”

Cole growled. She could feel it rumble through his chest and into her. “I’ll do it.”

Y/N blinked up at Dean, begging, but for what, she wasn’t sure. The calm of Death approaching had settled over her once more.

Dean shrugged, his eyes locked on Y/N’s. “Do it,” he said. “I don’t care.”

She drew in a breath and everything changed. Cole’s grip on her loosened and she ducked from his arm, ready to rush forward and out of the line of fire. He grabbed her arm and brought the butt of the gun down hard on the back of her head. She saw sparks, heard a yell, felt the rough gravel of pavement scrape her face.

When she woke, she was back in her bed in the Bunker, blanket smooth beneath her, boots still on. She’d been carried inside but not tucked in.

Sam.

Her head was pounding, mouth somehow dry and wet at the same time. She swallowed down the guck and rubbed her eyes as she climbed out of bed.

The halls were quiet, the lights bright as always. She peeked into Sam’s room, but it was empty, dared a chance at Dean’s, but he was nowhere to be found either.

What the hell?

A pained, demonic roar echoed down the hallway and Y/N pushed off of her backfoot, breaking into a run.

The dungeon door was open, the decoy shelving pushed aside.

She looked in to see Dean tied to a chair, his face covered in thick sweat, right arm bloody from needle punctures. Sam stood to the side, watching his brother writhe in pain.

“Sam?”

She stepped into the room and both men looked up.

Dean grinned through his strangled panting. “Heya, Sweetheart.”

She rushed forward and Sam stopped her, stepping in her way. He towered over her and looked down, hazel eyes filled with hurt and purpose. “Don’t.”

Dean sucked in a hard breath, lungs burning, blood boiling.

Y/N tried to circle Sam, but he barred her with his good arm.

“What are you doing to him? You’re killing him- look!”

Sam shook his head and gave her shoulder a shove. “Out. Now.” He grabbed her arm and dragged her to the door.

Dean watched her leave, struggling with consciousness. “Good to see ya, Y/N/N!”

Outside, she ripped her arm from Sam’s giant paw and growled up at him. “What are you doing in there?”

He sucked a breath through his teeth. “Curing my brother.”

“Looks more like you’re killing him! Can’t you hear him screaming? That can’t be good.” She turned to the door and again, Sam blocked her.

He softened, lowering his voice and easing his stance. “Look, I know you’re worried but-”

“But what? You’ve got it all under control as usual?”

He dropped his head. “He has to go through this. He’ll survive.”

She looked up, tears wetting the corners of her eyes. “How do you know? How do you know this won’t actually rip his soul apart and kill him?”

He let his head fall back against the door, resting for a split second. “I don’t.”

Hours ticked by with Y/N pacing the halls, listening as Dean’s wretched voice echoed through her, tearing at her heart.

Sam wouldn’t let her inside, but she caught glimpses of Dean when Sam came out for air. He was dripping in sweat, slumped down in the chair.

“Are you sure about this?”

He brushed past, barely holding on himself. “Honestly, Y/N… I don’t know anymore. But we’re almost done. He’ll either come out of this cured or-”

She held her tongue. “Yeah.”

Sam turned left and headed towards his room.

“Sam?”

He paused before rounding the corner.

“Should you and I- I mean, we should probably-”

He held up his hand, but was kind when he turned. “I know. We need to talk. I need to apologize. I just need- I gotta finish this first. I need to save him.”

Y/N nodded. “I know, Sam. I know.”

Sam had been gone for a while, so she took a chance.

Y/N slipped into the dungeon with a bottle of water and a damp cloth, her heart in her throat, her head in a vice.

Dean was limp in the chair, his chin tucked to his chest, eyes gently closed. She toed the Devil’s Trap, watching, praying to see a breath.

“Dean?”

He stirred and she sighed. “Thank God.”

A chuckle lifted his face to hers. “God ain’t got shit to do with this, babydoll.” He smiled and then coughed, heavy, painfully. His chest heaved, his mouth fell open as he strained for air.

“Dean… fuck.”

Before she knew it, she was inside the sigil and kneeling at his feet. She pressed the cool washcloth to his forehead and he sighed gratefully as she wiped the sweat from his brow.

“That’s… that’s nice.” His voice was cracked, throat raw from screaming.

She patted his cheeks, his throat, lay the cloth across the back of his neck.

“Are you OK?”

She looked him over, certain he was near to fading. His arm was torn from the needles and she could swear The Mark looked paler, as if Sam’s cure was pulling the evil from it. Maybe it was working…

Dean smiled. “Oh, sure. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” A cough shook him badly and Y/N held his cheek, unable to help.

“I’m so sorry, Dean. It’ll be over soon. I promise.”

She cracked open the bottle of water and held it to his lips, urging him to drink.

He managed a tiny sip and then pulled back.

“I’m dying, Y/N/N.” His head lolled to the side and her heart ached.

“No.” She grabbed at his flannel and shook him gently. “You’re gonna be fine. You’re Dean Fucking Winchester. You are going to be fine. You hear me?”

Green eyes rolled back to white and Y/N set her hand on his chest, rubbing hard.

“Hey! Hey! Dean! No. Wake up!”

She slapped his cheek and he sucked in a heavy breath, gasping loudly as his eyes snapped open.

“Oh, Jesus, Dean!”

Before relief could set in, Dean’s fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist and his pained smile turned into a devilish grin. He squeezed and her pulse quickened.

“What’re you doing? How?”

She looked down to see the ropes that had held his arms frayed and broken. “Dean?”

A blink shattered his beautiful green eyes and only black remained. He laughed. “You showed up just in time…”

It was like a rush of wind inside her head and all around.

In a flash, Dean had her up off the floor, her feet dangling, throat clutched in his big hand. He slammed her against the wall and held her there, lungs screaming, eyes bulging. He traced a hand down her body and tilted his head to the side, watching the blood rise to the surface of her skin. Aroused even as her breath died away.

“See, I don’t get you.” He let her slide down the wall until her toes scraped the floor. “Sammy warns you not to come looking for me by yourself and you do. He tells you not to come in here, and not only do you ignore him again, but you bring me a bottle of water. You came in here to take care of me. And for what?” His fingers squeezed and she felt her heart strain to pump. “You think you can ease my pain? Make it all better?” He brushed a hand over her breast and grinned. “Or maybe you think I’ll fuck you again.”

He tossed his head back and laughed.

“You’re a stupid little girl.” He blinked away the black and dipped his lips to hers, kissing her sweetly. “But I do enjoy watching you suffocate… I never told you that before, but it’s beautiful. Your eyes get real wide and the color starts to drain from your mouth. This sweet, delicious mouth.”

He forced his tongue inside and Y/N’s eyes rolled back. She clawed at his arm, but the strength was gone, the will fading close behind. Her vision ebbed and her fingers slid from his arm, falling limp at her sides.

“Do me a favor, babydoll,” he whispered, licking at her lips one final time. “Wait for me right here.”

With a flick of his wrist, she was on the floor, falling like a ragdoll at his feet. Air filled her lungs but she was already too far gone to wake fully. She tried to move, but everything was a struggle, everything ached.

“I’ve gotta go take care of my baby brother.” He ran a hand through his hair and she watched in horror as he stepped out of the Devil’s Trap. “Then I’ll be back for you."

Kind blue eyes were there when she woke and soft hands were helping her to sit up.

Castiel smiled sadly and lay his palm across her forehead like a mother would.

“How are you feeling?”

Y/N blinked rapidly, clearing the haze from her eyes. She squinted up at the angel and then panicked.

“Dean!” She scrambled to her feet, leaping from her bed and grabbing his arm for balance. “Where’s Dean!”

Castiel took both of her hands in his and forced her to calm down. “He’s fine. He’s…” A smile turned his pink lips. “It worked, Y/N. Dean’s back with us.”

It felt like the walls were crumbling inside of her. Everything slid downwards and she went with it, falling against Castiel, her body exhausted, her mind a mess of relief and worry.

He sank to the floor with her and held her close.

“He’s going to be fine,” he whispered. “You are too.”

The summer rushed through her head, ups and downs, horrors and worse. She saw black eyes and blood, felt every bruise, every strike against her flesh.

She wiped her eyes and sat back. “How?”

Castiel looked down, eyes sad but clear. “Time.”

Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, fresh from a shower. His hair still damp, gray flannel a little dark around the collar from collecting the drippings. He was hunched over, elbows on his knees, head in his hand.

She knocked gently and he looked up.

“Hey, Dean.”

He turned as he stood and started to go to her, but something stopped him. Flashes of what he’d done played on the empty space between them and he lingered over the bruises on her throat, the cut on her forehead. His fingers were twitching and he shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the unwanted movements.

“Hey.”

She wanted to run to him, to wrap her arms around him and hold him close, but he looked nervous to have her there, scared almost.

She cleared her throat and wrung her hands. “You feeling OK?”

Eyes on the floor, he nodded. “Yeah. All good.” He looked up through his lashes, afraid to face her fully. “You?”

She sniffed back a wave of tears and swallowed hard. “Yeah. I’m- I’m good.”

The lies hung like an iron curtain between them, massive and unbreachable.

She turned to go. “Well, if you need anything, just holler.”

He was on her before she reached the door, shaking fingers wrapping around her wrist and pulling her back. She spun and crashed into his chest, burying her face in his shirt, clinging to him. He was warm and alive. He was safe. He was home.

She could feel him trembling, hear the shaky intake of air. He held her tight, his big hand on the back of her head, the other slung around her middle. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head.

“Y/N, I can’t- I- I’m so sorry-”

His heart was racing against her ear and she snuck her arms around him, locking him to her.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “We don’t have to do that yet. Just… just be here.”

A tear escaped his eye and fell, landing on her arm.

“OK.” His hug grew a little tighter. “I’m here.”

She sighed and let the tears go. “That’s all I ever needed…”

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thewritergx · 2 months ago

Text

Caught: Evil!Sam x Demon!FReader

Summary: Blood-drinking Sam Winchester chases you through the woods and fucks you to death (literally).

Warnings: Evil Sam x Demon F!Reader. Smut Containing: Knife/Gun play, running through the woods, NONCON, Anal, Size Kink, Blood drinking, Choking, Crying, Spanking, Forced Orgasms, Death of Reader at the end. Pet Names: Princess, Slut, Whore, Bitch.

Word Count: 3K

Do not read if you are sensitive to the warnings. This is very much a non-consensual interaction. I cannot say this any plainer, do not read this unless you're into some weirdo freak shit.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me. Text divider from @cafekitsune.

Your chest rose and fell quickly, steps pounding at the wet dirt and grass. You weaved through trees, stepping over sticks and rocks. You couldn't stop. Stop and you are dead. Sam Winchester was hot on your trail, and if he caught you…You didn't even want to think about what could happen.

“Can’t run from me forever, little demon,” Sam yelled, his voice a good distance away.

Your chest was on fire after running for what felt like hours. Maybe you could take a break, his voice sounded pretty echoed. He must be far, you thought.

You leaned behind a tree, weight on your knees as you bent down trying to slow your panting breaths. You stayed quiet, trying to regain your composure when you heard a stick break a few feet away from you. Fuck.

How was he so fast?

You took off again, running deeper into the forest.

Sam knew he was close. He could fucking smell your blood. He listened for a while, hearing your quick steps as he chased you into the thickest part of the woods. He knew there would be no one out here. When he caught you, you would be powerless and all his to play with.

You tried to keep running, but you were so exhausted your pace involuntarily slowed with each passing minute. Fuck, you weren’t fast enough. He was going to catch you, you thought.

“Ah, there you are, princess,” Sam growled, watching as you ran right into his chest, hitting him like a brick wall.

You fell to the ground, hands landing on sharp sticks.

“Told you, you can't get away from me.” Sam raised his gun, shooting the ground next to you before you could try to run again. You gasp at the sound, the bullet landing a few inches from you.

“Stay down, bitch.” Sam walked closer, grabbing you and pushing you onto your knees.

“Sam, wait. Wait. Y-you don't have to do this”, you pleaded, fear filling your mind and body.

Sam hovered over you, his tall frame engulfing the moonlight. His eyes were dark, stoic in the night air. “I know. I don't have to do anything,” Sam huffed, his chest expanding with each breath. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him before throwing a hard punch on your face. Your ears rang and you hit the ground hard, your lip busted and bloody.

You tried to get up, tried to run but your vision was so blurry you couldn't stand. Sam dropped his gun before grabbing his knife, shoving you on the ground again.

“Ow, fuck you”, You spit, dirt on your lips as Sam slammed his fist into you again, your face landing hard in the soil.

Sam lowered himself, pushing himself over you as you lay helplessly on your stomach.

“Yeah, you’re about to,” Sam laughed, the smell of your blood thick on his mind. “Fucking slut”. Sam held the cold blade to your throat, watching as you wiggled under him, his thighs on either side of your legs.

“You know the best fucking part? No one will hear you, no one can save you.” Sam laughed. “You’re stuck out here with me, all mine to completely destroy and devour.”

“Don’t fucking move”, he growled, sliding the knife down your back. Sam lined the cold metal to the hem of your jacket, roughly cutting through it to expose your delicate skin.

“W-what are you doing”. Your voice was littered with fear, shaky as Sam placed a hand on your bare back, circling his thumb on the delicate skin.

You struggled under Sam, trying to buck your hips and legs as he pulled your arms back, forcing your jacket and shirt off you. The air was cold, and goosebumps formed on your skin.

"Cute little bar. Might keep it for later" Sam gently unhooked the clasp, folding it nicely before placing it safely on the ground.

“Stay fucking still or this is going to be a lot worse”, Sam breathed into your ear, biting at your skin. Your skin was on fire, wet dirt and leaves spreading on your tits and stomach. You tried to stay calm, tried to break away from his grip but Sam was double your size. You were completely powerless against him, the weight of his body easily pinning you down.

“Please,” you cried, the cold metal blade pressing against your back.

“Bet you taste so fucking good. Such a nice little vessel you're in.” Sam dragged the blade down your spine, cutting into your skin. “Wonder if she can feel this right now”.

“Stop! Get off me!” You screamed, hot blood running down your back.

“Usually, I would have killed you already”, Sam whispered into your back. “But God, this girl you're wearing, she looks so pure. So nice that I just can't stop myself from ruining her little body.” He leaned down, licking a thick stripe through your blood and sucking at the skin, cut open and dripping for him. “Think I’m gonna leave you alive a little while, fuck you til’ your blood runs dry”.

“No, no, no. Please, y-you can’t” Sam’s teeth dug into your skin, biting at the wound he had just created.

“Aw, is my little demon scared?” Sam smirked, blood spread across his face. He cut at you again, the knife on a sinister mission.

“Perfect,” Sam whispered, admiring the S.W., carved into your skin.

The foreign sound of a belt buckle unclicking echoed in the quiet woods. Sam became eerily quiet and mute as you continued to cry and plead for him to let you go. Sam shuffled over you, pulling the belt through his pants loops before dropping it next to you.

“Shh, play nice and I might just let you out of this at the end,” Sam whispers in your ear, lightly caressing your hair and kissing your neck.

You nod your head, finally accepting the situation you found yourself suffering in.

“Good. Good little whore.” Sam’s voice is now soft and relaxed. His hands travel to your ass, cupping your cheeks over your jeans. He scoots down, pulling himself off your body so he can rip the thick denim material down, leaving them bunched up under your knees.

Cold air strikes your now bare skin and you swallow hard, heart pounding harder than your earlier footsteps. His hands traveled to your waist, pulling you back on him and arching your ass off the ground.

“Look at those pretty panties,” Sam hisses, dragging the knife to your folds. “What’s this huh?” Sam’s jaw clenches and he presses the dull end of the blade in between your lips, pointing out the wet spot created by your dripping arousal. You feel him grab the thin material, ripping it off your body with his bare hands.

“You must like this, fucking dirty girl” Sam pulls you harder against him, grabbing your hands and placing them behind your back. You can’t help but rut against him, the large bulge in his pants pressing against your clit.

“I-I d-don’t. Please just let me go”. Tears stream down your face, your back stinging and leaves crunching with every movement you make.

“Why would I do that? You’re nothing”. Sam’s fingers work quickly, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. "Nothing, but my little cum dump".

Your breathing hitches as he pulls his jeans down, pulling his dick out.

“No! D-Don’t, please. Please don't put that in me.” You scream, kicking your feet as Sam grabs his dick. He snakes his hand under your waist, pulling you off the ground as he teases your clit, rubbing the head of his penis against your clit.

You clench your eyes shut and push your hands back, placing them against his stomach.

“Shut the fuck up. Move your goddamn hands before I fucking break them,” he growls, pressing the tip of his penis against your tight little hole.

“Pl-please,” you whine, quickly removing your hands and returning them to their previous position on your back. You feel Sam press against you and your eyes widen, the feeling of his thick tip already stretching you out. Fuck, he was huge.

“Oh fuck,” Sam presses against you, opening your legs wider as he sinks in deeper, bottoming out inside you completely.

“Stop, please”, you cry, tears streaming down your soft rosy cheeks.

“Aw, pretty girl doesn’t like my dick?” Sam laughed, quickly leaning down to wrap his thick fingers around your neck. He thrust into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size. “You may not, but I bet your vessel is loving this. Do you feel how wet she is? She’s already creaming my fucking dick, painting it all white.” Sam spoke through gritted teeth, each thrust landing hard on your cervix.

“Sam, p-please just l-let me go. I-I won't tell. I swear, I'll do-” Your eyes shoot open in fear as Sam squeezed around your throat, pressing so hard you couldn’t breathe in or out.

“S-s” You tried to speak, his grip growing tighter and tighter until you were seeing stars, all dizzy and the light in the room fading.

“Hey, no passing out on me,” Sam growled, quickly removing his hand. “How would I be able to hear those pretty cries if you're knocked out?”

You breathed heavily, coughing as he finally let go, his fingers leaving dark bruises behind. You try to calm down again, but the way he was thrusting into you was driving you crazy.

“Fuck!” you screamed, feeling that familiar tightening in your stomach.

“See, I know you fucking love this cock. Feel you tightening around me. You're about to cum, huh? Go ahead. Cum on my dick, you stupid fucking slut”, Sam leaned down, biting your neck so hard you felt him drawing blood. His sharp teeth pierced deeper into your skin, hot breath on your neck as he licked and sucked the open skin.

“Ahh, ow!” You scream, your voice echoing off the trees. You hated that he made cum, hated that you couldn't stop the pleasure forced through you.

“That’s a good little whore. Like when I fucking rape this cunt, huh?” Sam shoved himself deeper. “Say you fucking love it.” He yelled, slapping your ass hard.

“Fuck you,” You cried, voice filled with venom.

Sam grabbed the belt from your side, quickly slapping it hard against your asscheek. “I said, say you fucking love it”. He slapped you again, your skin screaming for help, bright red lines marking you.

“I-I l-love it,” you whispered into the ground, tears falling into your mouth, leaving behind a taste of salt.

“Louder. Like you fucking mean it,” Sam hissed, slapping the belt against you so hard it drew blood.

“Ow! Okay, I fucking love it! I love your huge dick fucking me,” You wailed, throat dry and voice hoarse from running.

“Such an obedient fuck slut.” Sam threw his head back, eyes clenched as he pulled comply out of you.

“Wonder if you’d like it that much…here” Sam pressed against your ass, your tight hole clenching as he shoved a thick finger inside. “I bet this vessel never got her ass fucked before.” Sam laughed, pumping his finger in and out, stretching you like you never had been before. “She’s fucking tight, huh.” He laughed, shoving another finger inside you.

“No, y-you can’t. It's too big”, you yelped, trying to pull yourself off the ground again.

“Stop”, Sam demanded, his tone littered with anger and hatred for you. He grabbed his gun, placing it against your temple as he lined his dick up with your ass.

“Stay fucking still and I won't shoot you,” The cold metal pressed against your skin hard. You trembled, your legs shaking and you swore you were going to throw up.

“Yes sir,” you nodded, forcing yourself to arch your back again, perfect position for him to sink inside you.

��Good”, Sam’s voice is plain, emotionless as he presses into your tight puckered hole.

“OW!” You yelp, his thick cock stretching you. Your skin burned and it felt like he was ripping into you.

“F-fuck” Sam slammed into you, your freshly used walls clenching around him so tight he almost couldn't move. “Yeah, this ass is all mine. Never had anything like me before,” he smirked, watching as his dick disappeared inside you, balls pressed against the soft fat of your ass.

He snapped his hips, a hard slapping sound echoing in the air. Your eyes rolled back, and the feeling of him pressing so deep, practically in your stomach, was too much. Fuck, it was torture but you craved more, your body easily opening from him to pump in and out of.

“Please, j-just take it o-out.” You were exhausted completely. Even at full strength, you would have never been able to fight him off. “P-please, Sam. Ju-just c-cum”. You begged and pleaded for him to finish.

Sam gripped the gun tighter, pressing it against you impossibly harder. He dragged it down your body, finger on the trigger. He thought about not shooting you, he really did. But he knew it would be so pretty watching you bleed out on the ground as he fucked you. So before he could think, before he could stop himself, he was pressing the trigger, a bullet ripping through your smooth skin and into your chest.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Your only thought about how stretched out and deep Sam was fucking you as you choked on your own blood. You couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop the orgasm ripping through you as you bled out, your legs shaky and week.

“That’s it,” Sam growled, his hips spurting out of rhythm but still impossibly deep. “Dumb fuck toy, letting me do whatever I want to her”.

Sam huffed, throwing the gun on the ground and digging his fingers into your sides. He watched as your blood pooled, your choking sounds sending him into euphoria.

“Fuck” His grip tightened around you and he bit his bottom lips hard, thrusting deep and finally painting your walls white.

“Such a shame.” Sam laughed, pulling out of you roughly, his cum dripping from your stretched-out hole. “Could have kept you around, but what would be the fun with a slutted out whore?” Sam watched as you withered on the ground, blood smearing all over him as he leaned against your ear.

“You were a good little fuck, though. Don't get me wrong.” He whispered, pressing his fingers inside the whole left by the bullet, pushing through your skin with a squelching pain. He watched as blood soaked his fingers, quickly licking the hot liquid clean. “Hmm, should have fucked that whole,” he mumbled, before stabbing you with his demon blade.

Your eyes shot open and white light shined from your body, killing you and leaving your vessel in the woods.

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crossroadsangel67 · 3 months ago

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🤍 MASTERLIST 🤍

DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU…

- are a minor (entire blog is 18+ and i will block you)

- ship w*ncest or any other form of inc3st

- are homophobic, racist, sexist, just pretty much if you’re a jackass

- are gonna play around and steal my work, c’mon now

- are an asshole, you aren’t welcome here! <3

IN THE WORKS

- dom!dean fucking the reader over a pool table

- dbf!dean x reader

- reader sucking sub!dean off + fingering him for the 1st time

- dean taking the reader’s virginity (m!reader version)

ONE-SHOTS / DRABBLES

he’s desperate in bed, 18+ (dean winchester x f!reader)

somnophilia, 18+ (dean winchester x f!reader)

REQUESTS

getting out his anger, 18+ (dean winchester x f!reader)

in the backseat, 18+ (dean winchester x f!reader)

taking your virginity, 18+ (dean winchester x f!reader)

AESTHETIC BOARDS

christmas as dean winchester’s lover

dean and castiel winchester, destiel day 2024

54 notes · View notes

rositaslabyrinth · 19 days ago

Text

Between Heaven and Hell - Ruby

Ruby x angel!reader

Warnings : making out, super slight intimacy, mostly safe :)

A rebellious angel and Ruby share a dangerous, secret love affair, knowing that discovery could mean destruction for them both.

Word count : 1,059

The night air was thick with the scent of rain and something darker—something that clung to your grace like a warning. You should have left hours ago, should have been anywhere but here, but the pull was magnetic, impossible to resist.

Ruby was waiting for you.

You found her in the shadows of an abandoned motel on the outskirts of town, leaning against the Impala with that infuriating smirk playing on her lips. “You’re late, feathers.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you murmured, scanning the empty parking lot. If Dean or Sam saw her—if Heaven knew where you were, who you were with—this would all come crashing down.

She tilted her head, stepping closer, invading your space in a way that made your borrowed vessel’s heart stutter. “And yet, here I am. Just like you.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “This is reckless.”

She smirked. “That’s what makes it fun.”

It had started as something else entirely. You weren’t supposed to be this—not a traitor, not a fallen thing with blood on your hands and a demon tangled in your grace. But Ruby had a way of twisting things, making them feel less like sins and more like choices.

The first time it happened, it was a mistake. A fight turned into something desperate, something that left you gasping in a cheap motel room, your hands clutching at her like she was salvation instead of damnation.

Now, you couldn’t stop.

Inside the motel room, Ruby pushed you against the door the second it shut. Her lips ghosted over your jaw, her voice a whisper against your skin. “You’re tense.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Angels tend to be when they’re committing high treason.”

She chuckled, her fingers trailing down your arm. “You’ve been doing that since the first time you let me kiss you.”

You caught her wrist, finally meeting her eyes. “They’re going to find out.”

She shrugged. “Then we deal with it.”

“It’s not that simple, Ruby.”

Her expression darkened. “Because of Sam?”

You hesitated. You cared about Sam, about Dean—even when they didn’t trust you. But this wasn’t about them. It was about Heaven. About Hell. About what you and Ruby were and what you could never be.

She sighed, stepping back. “You’re scared.”

You swallowed hard. “Aren’t you?”

She looked at you for a long moment before shaking her head.

She looked at you for a long moment before shaking her head. “No. Because for once in my existence, I have something that’s mine.”

Your chest tightened at her words, feeling the weight of everything hanging between you—your grace, your loyalty to Heaven, the risks of your secret relationship. But despite it all, Ruby was here, with you, and the gravity of that was enough to make you forget, just for a moment, everything else.

When she pulled you closer, her lips brushing against yours with that desperate, almost reckless need, you didn’t fight it. You couldn’t. Ruby’s mouth was soft but demanding, her hands sliding over your back, tugging at you with the kind of intensity that made your body ache.

The second kiss was slower, deeper. Her tongue traced the outline of your lips, coaxing them open, and when it slid past, you melted into her. The heat between you both was undeniable. She tasted of salt and something darker, the edge of something dangerous that made your breath hitch.

Her hands roamed, feeling the smooth curve of your shoulders before slipping under your shirt. You gasped when her touch traced over your skin, skin that wasn’t truly yours, but hers, in this moment.

You could feel the rhythm of her heart, her breath matching yours. She pulled away just slightly, her fingers grazing over the line of your jaw, her voice a soft whisper. “You’re mine, you know that?”

You nodded, unable to find the words, your own fingers tugging at her clothing, pulling her closer. “I’m yours.”

Ruby’s smirk returned, but it was softer now, more intimate. She took her time unbuttoning your shirt, every movement slow and deliberate as she revealed your skin, her gaze never leaving you. The way she looked at you, like she was memorizing every inch, sent a shiver down your spine.

Her hands slid to your waist, her thumbs brushing the curve of your hips before she pulled you closer. There was no urgency, only the steady beat of your hearts in sync as she leaned into you again. Her lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your throat, and you couldn’t suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” she murmured against your skin, her voice thick with desire.

You shook your head, both lost in the feeling, in the intensity of what this was—what it was becoming. You pulled her back to you, this time guiding her to the bed. Her lips never left yours, even as you both collapsed onto the mattress. She moved with ease, pushing you back gently, straddling you as she gazed down at you. The intimacy was palpable, more than skin deep.

Her hands trailed down your sides, caressing and teasing, making you shiver under her touch. She leaned down, pressing a heated kiss to your chest, her lips brushing over your pulse point as she murmured against you, “I never want to lose you.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words. But you didn’t need to. Instead, you pulled her back to you, your hands threading through her hair as you kissed her again. This time, it wasn’t just about the passion or the need—it was about something deeper, something fragile that you both shared in the secrecy of the moment.

Ruby’s hands slid down your back, pulling you closer, her body pressing against yours in perfect sync. Every kiss, every touch was an unspoken promise, a declaration that no matter what Heaven or Hell threw at you, this—she—was yours.

As the night stretched on, the world outside faded into nothingness. You and Ruby existed in this quiet, stolen moment. And when she finally pulled away, breathless and soft, you knew there was no going back.

Her fingers brushed against your cheek, her voice low and filled with emotion. “You’re mine, forever.”

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you believed it.

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deansbeer · 21 days ago

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✶ MARKED BY SIN ݂ ౨᭪ ׂ

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

📖 LIBRARY !

PAIRING. demon!dean x f!reader.

SYNOPSIS. while dean's fucking you deep and rough, he's obsessed with those little dermals on your lower back—just another excuse to touch you.

KARI TALKS. i'm missing him terribly rn !!! so i hope u enjoy whatever this is <3

DEMON!DEAN'S grip is bruising, fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you back onto him with every deep, punishing thrust. the motel room is dim, bathed in the dull red glow of a flickering neon sign outside, casting everything in shades of sin. it fits.

his hands roam, sliding over your sweat-slicked skin, tracing the curve of your spine until they find the tiny, glinting dermals embedded in your lower back. his pace falters for just a second, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he presses his thumb against one, feeling the cool metal against your fever-hot skin.

"fuck, sweetheart," he rasps, voice thick with something dark and dangerous. "always forget you've got these."

you whimper, barely holding yourself up on shaking arms, your body rocking with every thrust. he's relentless, setting a brutal pace that has you gasping, moaning his name like it's the only thing you know how to say.

DEMON!DEAN chuckles—low, smug—as he palms the small of your back, his fingers brushing over the piercings again. "bet you got 'em just to drive me crazy, huh?" his breath is hot against your ear as he leans over you, chest pressing flush against your back. "knew i wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you."

you can't even form words anymore, just broken moans and choked whimpers spilling from your lips. he fucking loves it. loves the way you're trembling beneath him, completely at his mercy.

he grips your hip with one hand, the other spreading across your stomach, pulling you back harder. "c'mon, baby, let me hear it," he coaxes, voice dripping with amusement. "tell me how good i’m fuckin' you."

you try—you really do—but all that comes out is a shattered moan, his name falling from your lips like a prayer to something unholy.

DEMON!DEAN just smirks, pressing a kiss to your jaw before sinking his teeth into your shoulder, claiming you the way only he can.

"that's what i thought."

꒰୨୧꒱ SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @bluemerakis @unfortunate-brat @beausling @aileenunfiltered @honeyryewhiskey @figthoughts @lacydollette @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @ultravioletrayz @soldiersgirl @deanssun @abox-of-rocks @whisperingdaze @eepwtf @rafespreciosa @deanswidow @deansbite @voidsuites

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cherryeclipses · 1 month ago

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Dean Winchester x Angel!Reader 🪽 Fallen

tw: mentions of hell (not graphic)

slowburn, light angst. She/her pronouns, minimal use of Y/N. Please ignore inconsistencies in the show/lore - it’s fan fiction!!

Part I here

𓆩♡𓆪

Part II - 3rd person POV

We're bored to death in heaven and all alone in hell.

"Dude what the hell?" Dean asks Castiel, in between sips of cheap whiskey. "In case you forgot, you're helping us to stop the apocalypse, not get distracted by some pretty angel. Who we don't even know if we can trust." "I told you already, she can help. She has seen and knows things not even the archangels are aware of. She's centuries older than me." the angel says honestly. Dean looks between him and Sam doubtfully. "Castiel, how did another angel end up in hell and how come no one's ever heard of her?" Sam asks, trying to diffuse the obvious tension. Castiel looks around the dark bar, all the tables surrounding the group are empty, only a passed out man at the bar and a lone group hustling pool a few feet away from them. "Y/N was created along with the archangels, centuries ago, long before your earth. She was a beacon in heaven, God's mightiest warrior but that was until humans were created. She become obsessed, leaving heaven to visit earth as often as she could, nobody could understand why. She confided in me, I was her only real companion in heaven, but her love for humanity was too strong, she really sealed her fate one night when she had sexual relations with a human man." Dean's eyes widened at the news, trying to imagine how different sex with an angel would be. "So, Y/N was banished to hell because of it?" Sam questioned. "Yes." Castiel replied solemnly. "She was banished not only to hell but to Lucifer's cage." "That's brutal." muttered Dean, remembering how horrifying hell was, he couldn't imagine being locked in the cage with Lucifer himself for centuries. "God has been known to be particularly wrathful when his favourites disobey." Castiel continued. "So you trust Y/N?" Sam asked "Even though you don't know what happened to her down there, you think she'll still be on our side?" The younger Winchester was skeptical. Castiel's eyes narrowed, "Yes. I do. She always loved humans. It would devastate her to see the apocalypse and not try to stop it."

𓆩♡𓆪

That night Dean couldn't sleep, the crappy motel bed was more uncomfortable than usual, the cheap alcohol and fast food felt heavy in his stomach and most of all he couldn't stop thinking of Y/N. Her vessel was breathtaking, if this was under any other circumstances he'd have already have her number and be smooth talking her over dinner. But she's an angel and not just any angel but Lucifer's cellmate. As he stared up at the grey ceiling he couldn't help but think about what it must've been like in the cage, the torture she must've endured, and his heart sank. Dean only met the angel once briefly but he really felt for her, maybe it was his mind's way of distracting him from the real problem at hand, Michael and Lucifer, but he was happy for the distraction for the night. "You called?" A soft voice startled Dean. He lept from his bed, Y/N was standing at the end of his bed, staring blankly. "No I didn't, what is with you angels thinking you can pop in uninvited." He said defensively. "Uninvited?" The girl whispered, noting Sam was fast asleep in the bed beside Dean. "You prayed to me Dean. So I came," Dean shook his head in disbelief, "Yeah right, I'm sorry. I didn't think I was." "It's okay, I'll go -" "No, stay." He interrupted. "What? I can assure you feelings are not hurt, I'll go so you can sleep. It is three in the morning." Y/N said calmly. Dean moved to sit at the edge of the squeaky bed "I can't sleep, so want to keep me company for a while?" The angel mirrored his actions cautiously and sat at the table across from Dean. She studied his face for a moment, trying to decipher if the man was sincere or not. "This is not usually what people pray for..." She said. "Yeah well I do. Cas seems to trust you so I wanted to get to know you." And your body, Dean thought to himself. "Oh. Right." Y/N paused for a moment, "What do you want to know?" "What's your fascination with humans? I heard that's what got you kicked out." Dean questioned. "You heard correctly. I think humanity is wonderful, you are free. You can have a real life. Love, family, empathy, hope, we don't have any of that. In heaven you are a follower, nothing more." She said wistfully. "My father created you in his image, humans are his favourite creation for a reason so it shouldn't seem too unbelievable." Dean had to chuckle and shake his head, "So God loves people so much but he draws the line at an angel getting it on with a human?" but before he could finish his sentence he realised he'd said too much. Y/N's brow furrowed and her head tilted to the side, eyeing up the man across from her. "I disobeyed Dean, I'm sure Castiel has told you all about it, but if this is all you want to talk about, then I'll be leaving." She started to stand up but Dean reached his hand out to stop her. "C'mon you're right I shouldn't have said anything. But you can't blame me from being curious. Was it good at least? Y/N just laughed, she couldn't believe he had just asked her if it was good. Dean was the most interesting human she'd ever met. She sighed, "Yes, it was. Was it unethical? Also yes, but it felt better than heaven, I felt human for a moment." Dean opened his mouth to make another joke but changed his mind quickly, he couldn't scare her off just yet. He was starting to like this angel. "Look, I don't know what it was like down in the cage but Sammy and I could really use your help with this whole stopping the apocalypse thing. Cas says you know more about Lucifer than anyone." He said honestly. "I'd be honoured to help in anyway I can. Castiel was my only friend, I owe him a lot and I don't want to witness the death of millions of people. I will warn you though, Lucifer and Michael are the most persistent beings I know. They will do everything in their power to get you boys to say yes." "I'm sorry I must go now Dean, I can't let my brothers and sisters know I escaped, not yet at least. Goodbye." She smiled softly before disappearing.

Dean flopped back on his bed, he was completely and utterly screwed. How was he going to work with this woman who created butterflies in his stomach after one conversation? He finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning to dreams of him and a certain angel rebelling against heaven together.

𓆩♡𓆪

Honestly am just writing this story for myself. I don't care if no one reads it, I am in my own fantasy on this one. Oh to be Dean Winchesters unattainable crush ...

#spn #supernatural #fanfic #fanfiction #series #slow burn #angels #demons #dean #sam #dean winchester x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester x angel reader #angel!reader #lucifer #cas #castle #fallen angel

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super-marvel-dc · 10 months ago

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Y/N: *Walks into The Avengers compound, and greets them* hello, who called about the demon problem?

Tony: That would be me, Tony Stark *shakes Y/N's hand*

Y/N: Nice to meet you, Mr. Stark.

Dean, from the corner of the room: And I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sammy.

Sam: It's just Sam...

Y/N, to Tony: Are they apart of your team?

Tony: No.

Steve: We called them in because they're supposed to be the best of the best when it comes to demons.

Dean: We are the best of the best, but these demons are something else.

Sam: We've never encountered something like them before.

Y/N: Can you describe them to me?

Dean: Well, normally the demons we fight look human and have black eyes.

Sam: Yeah, there are different, though... They looked like actual monsters you see on TV and had different colored eyes...

Dean: Yeah. And they had some kind writing in their eyes, couldn't tell what, though.

Y/N: Uh oh...

Everyone: Uh oh, what?

Y/N: I'll be right back, I'm going to call my friends... I know exactly what we're dealing with, and it's not good.

Y/N: *On the phone call* Yeah, and tell Rengoku to tell the others we'll need their help, too.

Y/N: *Hangs up, and looks at everyone*

Tony: Who's Rengoku, and what's going on?

Y/N: *Sighs* OK, I'll explain everything to you, but you're gonna have to sit down for this because it's a long story.

Dean: Firstly, start off with who the hell you are.

Y/N: My name is Y/N Y/L/N, my friends and I deal with these demons you told me about...

Y/N: I'm a Hashira.

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cheynovak · 11 months ago

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A Demon's Kiss

Demon Dean x F/Reader Y/N

Warnings: Anger, Jealousy, a little aggression maybe, nothing too bad.

Side note: English isn’t my first language.

*Does not follow The SPN storyline *

Dean turned in to a knight of hell, on one of his karaoke/ bar adventures he see's an old flame from way back, Y/N the daughter of a hunter, he and Sam met years ago. Seeing her enjoying her time with a new man made him feel wel... something.

His new found edgy self-confidence made him walk up to her.

In the dimly lit bar, the air was thick with the scent of alcohol and the murmur of conversations. Dean Winchester, now a demon, a knight of hell, sat at the far end of the counter, nursing a glass of whiskey. His eyes scanned the room, seeing a familiar face he hadn't seen in years.

He spotted her. Y/N. His old girlfriend. She was sitting at a table near the back, her laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses. Dean's heart twisted painfully at the sight of her. He hadn't expected to run into her here, of all places.

She was stunning, as always. Her hair cascaded in waves down her shoulders, and her smile lit up the room. But what caught Dean's attention was the man sitting across from her. Some guy. He was leaning in close, his hand grazing her arm as he whispered something in her ear. Dean's jaw clenched with jealousy.

He couldn't bear to watch her with someone else. Without a second thought, he downed the rest of his drink and made his way over to her table. As he approached, Y/N looked up, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Dean?" she breathed, disbelief evident in her voice.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dean said, forcing a smirk. "Long time no see."

Y/N's date eyed Dean warily, sensing the tension in the air. "Is everything okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with caution. Dean ignored him, his focus solely on Y/N. "Mind if I join you?"

Y/N hesitated, glancing between Dean and her date. "Um, I'm actually..." Dean slid into the seat next to her, not giving her time to protest. His presence casting a shadow over the table. Y/N shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting nervously between Dean and her date.

"So, who's your friend?" Dean asked casually, his gaze never leaving Y/N's face. Y/N swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing pink. "This is... uh, this is Alex," she stammered, gesturing to her date.

Alex nodded short, his expression guarded. "Nice to meet you," he said, though his tone lacked sincerity. Dean smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. "So, how do you two know each other?" he asked, his voice dripping with faux innocence.

Y/N shot Dean a warning look, but he ignored it, revelling in her discomfort. "We... we met through a mutual friend," she said, her voice tight. Dean raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "A mutual friend, huh? Funny, I don't remember you having friends, sweetheart."

“In our job it’s hard to keep any relation.” He clarified over his shoulder to Alex. Y/N's cheeks grew even redder, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "It's... it's complicated, but can be done." she muttered, avoiding Dean's gaze.

Dean leaned in closer to her, his hand on her thigh, voice low and husky. "You know, I've been thinking about you a lot lately," he said, his breath brushing against her ear.

Y/N shivered at the proximity, her heart racing in her chest. "Dean, please," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din of the bar.

But Dean ignored her protests, his lips grazing her earlobe as he whispered words of seduction. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he couldn't resist the temptation.

Meanwhile, Alex watched the exchange with growing unease, his fists clenched beneath the table. He could sense the tension between Y/N and Dean, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Maybe we should go somewhere more private," Dean murmured, his eyes smouldering with desire.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her head spinning with conflicting emotions. She knew she should resist Dean's advances, but she couldn't deny the pull she felt towards him.

Before she could respond, Alex stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I think it's time I leave," he said, his voice tight with anger. Y/N glanced up at him, torn between relief and disappointment. "Alex, wait," she said, reaching out to him.

But Alex shook his head, his eyes blazing with fury. "I'm done playing games, I don’t think this will work." he spat, before storming out of the bar without another word.

Y/N watched him go, her heart sinking in her chest. She knew he was hurt, but she couldn't deny the spark of excitement that Dean's presence had ignited within her.

Dean watched Alex leave with a satisfied smirk, knowing that he had won this round. Turning back to Y/N, he reached out and cupped her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

"Looks like it's just you and me now, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she looked into Dean's eyes, knowing that she was about to cross a line from which there was no turning back. And as Dean leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss, Y/N surrendered herself.

As Y/N felt Dean's lips pressing against hers, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions swept through her. Breaking away from the kiss, she searched his eyes, her voice trembling as she spoke. "Dean... w-what happened to you? You're so... different."

Dean pulled back slightly, his gaze darkening as he studied her. "Different how?" he asked, his voice low, flirty.

Y/N hesitated, her mind racing with memories of the man Dean used to be. "You used to be... kinder," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the noise of the bar. "Softer. This... this isn't you."

Dean's jaw tensed at her words, his expression hardening. "People change, Y/N," he said, his voice cold and distant as he tried to kiss her again. "It's called survival."

Y/N shook her head, pushing her hand against his chest, refusing to accept his explanation. "But this isn't just change, Dean," she insisted, her voice tinged with desperation. "This is... dark. I can see it."

She looked around, “Where is Sam?”

Dean's gaze flickered with something akin to regret, but it was quickly masked by a steely resolve. "Maybe you just didn't know me as well as you thought you did, Sweetheart" he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Y/N felt a pang of sadness at his words, realizing that the man she had once loved was slipping further and further away from her grasp. "After all we’ve been through. I don't believe that." she said firmly.

Y/N reached out to touch his arm, her fingers trembling with uncertainty. "Please, Dean," she pleaded, "What's wrong? I want to help you."

"It's too late for that, Y/N," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "You should go. It's not safe for you to be around me." As Y/N watched Dean leave the bar, a sense of despair washed over her.

Ignoring the warning bells ringing in her mind, she followed him, determination burning in her chest. "Dean, wait, Dean! I dealt with not safe before. What happened?" she called out, her voice echoing in the empty hallway outside the bar.

Dean stopped in his tracks, his back still turned to her. "I told you to go, Y/N," he said, his voice rough with emotion. Y/N took a step closer, her heart pounding in her chest. "I can't just walk away, Dean, not when you clearly need help" she said, her voice trembling.

"FUCK Y/N!" he growled, pushing her against the wall with a strength she knew wasn’t normal, his voice sending shivers down Y/N's spine. "I told you to leave. Can't you take a hint?" Y/N recoiled at the venom in his voice, her heart pounding with fear.

"Dean, this isn’t you.," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. "Who, what are you." Dean’s beautiful green eyes turned pitch black, Y/N’s heart stopped for a second. "I don't understand, how?"

Dean spat. "I'm not the man you once knew. And you... you're just a pathetic reminder of that past."

Y/N felt her heart shatter at his words, tears stinging her eyes. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. Too scared to speak out loud but he heard her. His eyes changed back, looking her up and down.

In a blur of motion, he closed the distance between them, his hands gripping her shoulders with a bruising force. Y/N gasped as she felt his lips crashing down on hers, his kiss fierce and possessive.

She tried to push him away, but Dean's hold on her was unyielding, his kiss a cruel, different from the ones they shared before. As he finally pulled away, Y/N saw a flicker of regret in his gaze. But it was quickly replaced by a cold, empty stare.

“Ay, Romeo, ready yet?” A strange short man in a black coat appeared behind them. Dean looked over his shoulder before turning back to her.

"Leave, Y/N," he said, his voice a low growl. "Before I do something we'll both regret."

----

If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Tag list:

@yvonneeeee @suckitands33

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