#masochist sam winchester

[boypussysam]

we had to teach sammy a lesson because he tried to leave. now he's a little scared of us, but he needs to understand that this is for his own good.

[lambmotifz]

honestly besides the fact that sam canonically doesn’t want to have physical control over dean (he prefers to be controlled by dean for many reasons, most of which come from his trust issues with himself & his masochistic tendencies) i also won’t ever be able to get into top!sam dynamic simply because aesthetically it’s so much less appealing to me than bottom!sam. when jared said “the idea that sam doesn’t use his brawn and size to save the day but he wants to restrain that power - that was very attractive to me”. he gets it. there’s something so delicious about the fact that sam doesn’t use his physical power to his advantage, and even more than that, some part of him craves the feeling of being restrained, the feeling of being small and maybe a bit helpless. and dean is canonically the only one with whom sam can allow himself to be vulnerable like that because dean is the only person he trusts unconditionally. and it drives me insane

[boykingscourt]

It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone.

[pollsnatural]

The same poll about Amy is here.

[mxltifxnd0m]

im trying to get through the last couple episodes of season 10 and my god i literally stopped caring about the mark of cain like 12 episodes ago T_T

[blacknidstang]

As a society we should think more about Sam having a wet dream about Bela who fucking shot him

[mirainawen]

chasm, straw in the wind, and crooked storm on carson pass

chasm.

summary: rising from the dead is practically another tuesday for winchesters. a milligan, however…

it immediately follows getting garth'd. sam and dean went off grid after the trials to allow sam time to heal and dean time to nurse his regrets. the two are on the rocks after dean's stunt with gadreel, not the least of reasons why being gadreel's attempt on kevin's life (an angel of the lord is supposed to protect a prophet of the lord, so the attack awoke another latent power of prophets, smiting).

finding out that their long locked up half-brother is topside again is somehow the best and last thing the two of them need right now. the chasm, as they say, isn't fixed yet.

Dean stares across the room, index finger tapping the table—one, two, three, an unconscious mimicry of the clock. The ticking was the only other sound in the room.

“Okay,” he finally says, letting his hand fall. Sam stirs at his voice. “Walk me through it again.”

Benny doesn’t sigh. His expression says it, loud and clear. “Story ain’t gonna change, Dean.”

He glances at Sam, who, arms braced on his knees and hands clasped, lets his shoulders rise heavily and fall under the look. The lines around his eyes and mouth are deep again, and not just from the lack of sleep. The knife’s edge they’d all been balanced on was crawling down their spines.

He leans away from it. “So you’re sayin’ Adam…what? Just waltzes outta the cage, takes a little jaunt through hell til he finds an exit and just…stumbles into the only monster in all of Purgatory who isn’t gonna tear him limb from limb on sight?”

Benny’s lip curls in the shadow of a smile. “Looks like it.”

::

straw in the wind.

summary: there's a crack in sam's glass house. (adam's on the warpath.)

concussed after a particularly bad exorcism, sam speaks to adam about the cage for the first time. he implies that adam doesn't quite...fit with him and dean. that adam's not relentless or aggressive enough to make a good hunter, unaware not being okay with sam tends to push adam over the edge. thus pushed, adam goes on a reckless hunting spree (affectionately termed the "fuck you sam tour" by writer and captive audience of a bff who must be hit by ideas thrown her way until she cries "ow!"). distracted by sam, dean doesn't put the pieces together about a "hunter off the rails" and adam's (not...atypical) radio silence. when garth finally calls dean to "come get your boy", sam and dean hit the road to find him and talk him down off the ledge. sam makes an old yeller reference. dean hears the first distant sounds of sirens.

“Dean?” he called, but there’s no answer. He could try his other brother…other brother? Adam. Right. It was about Adam. He was gonna tell Dean something about Adam, it was…they needed to tell Adam something. He groaned, rubbing his forehead.

Connecting the threads of his thinking lately had been a killer. The pieces often had sharp edges, slipping through his grasp. Getting this far hurt like a bitch. The meds couldn’t kick in fast enough. But when they did, he didn’t really think any clearer, just hurt a little less. He clung to  the pieces, finding his phone in hand.

Call Adam. Adam hated that. Couldn’t be bothered to answer texts. Everything was always on his terms. Sam hated that.

“Sam?” Adam’s voice sounded…surprised? Maybe a little worried. Definitely a bit distracted.

“Hey. Adam.” Those two words felt like they took a lungful each.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah?” He pressed the heel of his hand to his head, fighting back the dizzying little edges of light dancing about his peripheral.

Adam hissed. “Well it’s not like you call. Why are you calling?” The demand annoyed him.

He huffed a sound that takes all the air out of his lungs again. “Because you…don’t want us to.” It was like, one of so many rules Sam did not understand.

“Cause Winchesters only call when they need something.”

The implication irritated him further. “Okay, well, I need to tell you something.”

“If it’s that Dean is overbearing, he’s your favorite brother, Sam, I don’t want to hear it. Why’d you crack your skull open anyway?”

He opened his mouth, and yanked the phone away as a messy, confusing sound crackled over the line. He forgets the line of questioning as bright spots dance behind his eyes.

“Sam?” Adam’s voice broke back through. “I’m really busy. Can we not play-at happy family right now? I’m sure Dean will be overjoyed to make sure you have company while you recover.”

::

crooked storm on carson pass.

summary: accused of a crime he didn't commit, joe wiles his time in a carson pass jail while adam tries to prove his innocence. at every turn, the local sheriff seems to be one step ahead. has adam finally met his match?

“JOE!” He barked, causing Joe to jerk clean out of the bed, rolling off onto his back in a graceless heap.

Joe groaned and touched the back of his head as he half-sat up. “Galldang you, Adam,” he protested mulishly, peering at his brother in rebuke. “What’s the big idea, huh?” He prodded at his head and winced.

“Well, Joe, that’s what I’d like you to tell me.” Adam gestured at himself before folding his arms and peering down at his brother.

Joe groaned again as he sat up, and glanced at his brother under knotted brows. “Well maybe you should tell me - you’re so smart.” Which was Joe’s way of saying he didn’t appreciate Adam’s tone of voice.

“Then I will.” Adam shot back, censure bordering on condescending in that way that was Adam’s of saying that Joe was in for a lecture. “You’re supposed to be in Zephyr Cove.”

This time when Joe groaned it was pure frustration. “Yes, well, obviously I’m not.” He threw out a hand, encompassing the jail, and climbed to his feet. “So go ahead. Lecture away, Older Brother - I don’t really have any other option, do I?”

And maybe it was the set of Joe’s jaw or the fact that he was so mulish, standing there framed by cell bars with the bed clothes piled about his feet, but Adam found he derived no pleasure from fighting with someone who couldn’t fight back. And Joe loved to fight back.

If anyone had ever pointed out to Adam that Joe did follow his examples, he would have argued the opposite - but if someone had ever pointed out that Joe had learned how to argue with authority from watching Adam argue with their father, he would have stormed away in a speechless rage.

[boypussysam]

sam felt dirty for having sex with dean and only did it because he didn't want to make him angry, because (sometimes dean manipulated him into believing that he deserved to be punished) he prefered dean treating him gently than mistreating him in bed.

dean convinced sam to fulfill all of his weird fetishes; exhibitionism, feminization, sex in a church, sexy lingerie, etc. eventually sammy developed a taste for those things, so when dean went to purgatory, he spent his time looking for men to satisfy his desires, even convincing amelia to try it. but nothing and no one felt the same.

when dean came back he was different. sam had never seen him like that. he didn't know what to do to ease him, so he thought about putting into practice the skills he learned, but dean's reaction wasn't what he expected. he felt an uncontrollable rage.

instead of looking for him he spent his time whoring himself out. he needed to punish him.

and god. sammy didn't know how much he missed being punished by his big brother.

[fandom-hoarder]

I'd say the trials are a large aspect of elucidating an underlying theme with Sam that pain is his penance for existing, or even for failing Dean. (See: s7 Defending Your Life, Sam telling Dean he feels good even despite Hallucifer because he went to hell and paid his dues, followed by s8 and all the guilt of not looking for Dean) There's also Sera Gamble's commentary re: SamRuby, where Sam's sexual relationship with Ruby represents self-harm, which is also connected to not saving Dean. And one might even say that the way Sam goes off the rails for Dean in s10 is a type of self harm, where Sam sort of sacrifices his own moral code all season to save Dean from the Mark.

BUT, I'd also say that calling it "canonical masochistic tendencies" is playing a bit fast and loose with interpretation, and that Sam requires some sort of impetus for these "tendencies" to show; they don't exist in a bubble, or as a kink, in canon. And as a baseline it's more about his faith and self worth than it is loving pain itself. But these are issues he struggles with---though in s12 we do get the lovely line that pain does not purge sin, and pretty much past that point he blames himself for things less, but he's not totally immune when it comes to certain issues.

Also, we have all the times Sam has shown what a high tolerance for pain, injury, and torture he has--- even inviting it as a stalling/intimidation tactic towards captors--- which I think also fuels this particular interpretation. Plus the fact that fandom plays fast and loose with vocabulary in general, in often aggravating ways that ignore convention.

Personally, I do love to play with their complementary sadomasochistic dynamic based on these ideas--- playing with how Sam's life has shaped and changed his relationship and trauma response to pain, to the point of ashamedly craving it when he "shouldn't"; playing with Dean's guilt over sadistic things he's done and the repressed urges that have been pulled out of him supernaturally; playing with how they can trust each other enough eventually to be vulnerable and open about these things--- but calling it hard canon is a very slanted and narrow reading of what's actually on screen.

I wish people would remember the word "headcanon," or the phrase "personal interpretation," and start using it, tbf. Hell, even "my fav reading" would serve better, imo.

have seen a few people lately saying that sam canonically has masochistic tendencies and. am I missing something? I see him using pain (esp wrt Hallucifer), and I see him accepting pain, and I see him taking pain, but I don’t see him enjoying it. Is that just referring to the Trials, where the whole (painful) process is giving him hope for catharsis/cleansing? Or are people speaking loosely?

(It’s entirely possible that I’m just a lot less likely than most people to use the word ‘canonically’ to describe things about a character’s interiority than other people.)

[lambmotifz]

speaking of hell trauma….it’s canon that post hell dean was still able to get boners (proof? 4.10 & 5.06!) but post hell sam apparently wasn’t because he stopped having sex after the wall was broken, at least for a while

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Full Circle

🔥Pairing(s)🔥→ Stepbrother Dean Winchester x Male reader ⚠CW⚠→ stepcest, gay, gay-sex, top Dean Winchester, bottom male reader, possessive Dean, obsessive Dean, choking, spanking, praise kink, rough sex, Dean stalks you, jealous Dean, sort of fluff then smut, anal, anal sex, anal fingering, masochist reader, and Dean is rough but loving. He sabotages your relationships.  🔥Rating🔥→ Explicit  🔥Requested🔥→ Yes

🔥Word Count🔥→: 3.3k

🔥Summary🔥→ Dean has been in love with you since you moved in. It was wrong but he couldn’t help himself. He intimidated all your pursers and made sure you were single. However, he stopped his ministrations when he saw he was ruining your love life. He watched with jealousy as you got into relationships. His moment came when you came crying to him. 

Read before continuing: IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR ANY OF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DO NOT CONTINUE READING! 

This fic doesn’t follow the supernatural timeline!

It was wrong. Anyone who saw it will say it's wrong to love your stepbrother beyond a family bond. Dean didn’t see it like that, though. He defended himself by saying, “We’re given the title of brothers, but we’re not related in any way.” People will still say it's wrong, but at this point, Dean didn’t care. 

Dean still remembers the day you appeared in his life. 

Dean was eighteen when their father announced he was remarrying again and that they’d get a new brother. Dean wasn’t too happy about getting another sibling—he thought he and Sam were enough—but he stayed quiet and didn’t complain. John then gave another announcement that they’d be meeting their new mother and brother. 

The older Winchester was reluctant to meet the addition to the Winchester family. From the information he was given, you were a year younger than him. He was spacing out and blocking external interactions. ‘Why must father’s new wife come with an attachment? It would’ve been better if it was just her… not some “brother” that’s coming.’ Dean cursed as he bit his lip from annoyance even though they hadn’t arrived yet. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear his father calling out to him. “Dean! Change that attitude and meet your new brother.”

Dean groaned and sighed as he drank his soda before looking up to meet his new stepbrother. He choked as he made eye contact, hacking as the soda itched his throat the wrong way. His face was flustered from embarrassment as he tried to clean himself. ‘Shit! I wasn’t expecting him to be that…’

The Winchester who was usually confident, charming, and witty embarrassed himself. He was gobsmacked, he didn’t expect you to be cute, handsome, and attractive! Dean never found another man attractive but he was bi-curious; guess he’s bisexual. After his humiliation, Dean introduced himself, attempting to brush off the incident. 

“Well, I guess we’re gonna be stepbrothers! Nice to meet you..” 

XXX 

You were a plague on his mind. You filled his mind every waking day as he tried to push down those feelings for you. It only got worse after the wedding ceremony when you and his new mom moved in. The older Winchester unknowingly began watching your moves; how you acted, dressed, and talked. Every last piece of you made him want you more. 

He went as far as to steal your underwear, jerking his cock to your musky scent. His imagination went full drive, imagining you in various positions. Begging and whining for him while he fucks you to oblivion. Dean had the greatest orgasms in his life, painting himself with his load. 

“Dean! Where is my underwear?” You yelled as you searched your room. This was the fourth time this week that your underwear had gone missing! Other belongings had gone missing like some clothing, pillowcases, and even your toothbrush. 

At first, he was adamant about you, but now he was becoming obsessed with you. Whenever you two spoke together, he cherished those memories and every detail. He started stalking all your social media accounts, gathering every piece of information. His obsession reached the point where he could feel your presence in the room.

Obsession was blooming, but so was possessiveness. 

Dean masked his possessiveness by acting like a concerned older stepbrother, justifying his actions to be out of love and protection for you! He was protecting you from rotten men! So, he invaded every aspect of your life, asking who you’re texting, seeing, or even where you’re going. “I don’t want anyone to hurt you. I just wanna protect you.”

“Aww, you’re worried about me?” You teased. You always wondered what it would feel like to have another sibling, especially one that’s protective. So, you played off Dean’s protectiveness as just a sibling thing. However, Dean was serious, something you couldn’t comprehend. 

When you started attending his university, he began stalking your every move. Jealousy and fury surged through his body as he watched men and women alike talk with you. Your natural charisma and good looks caused more attention to come to you. 

Dean attempted to cease further advancements from other men by making– forcing you�� you to be in his group of friends. Using his popularity and large stature, Dean intimidated any of your pursers, blackmailing them, or getting physical. Whenever anyone came close, he pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you possessively like you two were a couple. 

You were flattered by Dean's possessiveness, unaware of his obsession though. He just wanted to protect you! That’s what a good stepbrother does, but it's starting to get out of hand. Because of Dean’s ministrations, you were lacking any type of social interaction or relationships. All the guys you talked to distanced themselves or refused to speak to you again. 

Dean was too blind to see how you were feeling until he heard your cries coming from the dorm. Whenever he looks at you now, you just look depressed– saddened that nobody wants to be near you or be in a relationship. The older Winchester began questioning himself.

After days of contemplating and trying to justify his actions, Dean decided to back off. Even though the deepest parts of his mind were telling him that everything he did was for your safety. Despite his own unpopular opinion, Dean backs off and watches as you engage with other men. It took a lot of willpower to not stomp over there and snatch you from them. 

As a way to channel his jealousy and fury, Dean went to the gym every day as he continued to watch you. The constant routine caused him to become bulky. Many men and women threw themselves at him, and Dean indulged, trying to bury his affection and jealousy. However, none of it worked. Someday, Dean hopes your feelings will come around. 

That day finally came three years later. 

XX(three years later)XX

For three years, Dean watched in agony and jealousy as you got into an intimate relationship with someone who wasn't him. Dean, from day one, said he didn’t approve and made it abundantly clear. He watched like a cuck as the guy was lovey-dovey with you. Even worse, he could hear the sounds of moaning and bed squeaking at night. Admittedly, he did jerk off but only imagined himself being the one fucking you. 

Every day, Dean prayed to whatever God there was for misfortune to strike your relationship. It was an asshole move to pray on the downfall of his stepbrother's relationship, but Dean felt something was wrong with that man. He was later proven right.

“H-He cheated on me! That fucking asshole! I… I did everything…” you yelled as you took all your anger on some pillow before crying and burying your head. 

Dean watched, having the face of a concerned brother but inside, he was ecstatic. This was his chance! He could use this moment to slowly insert himself back into your life. Surely, helping you overcome this massive obstacle would make you fall in love with him! Dean will never cheat on you like that asshole did and could be a better boyfriend, maybe husband. 

Because nobody is gonna pay some guy or girl to come after him!

“Hey, Hey… it's okay. Come here, let me hug you.” Dean says tenderly as he pulls you into his embrace. Your cries muffled into his flannel jacket as the older Winchester soothed your cries. He could hear your rugged breathing calm down as you relaxed into your stepbrother's hold. 

Dean repeated this for the next few days which turned into weeks and months. He did everything to make you forget that man; taking you out to eat, movies, just sitting around and talking, or playing games together and just getting closer. Closer than what’s accepted between stepbrothers. He made sure you blocked the asshole's number and got rid of everything that reminded you of him. 

You were starting to feel something with Dean. You never looked at your stepbrother like that but now you were seeing him differently. His charming smile, funny personality, and bulky body from hours at the gym. You often caught yourself staring at Dean for long periods before turning away embarrassed. 

His biceps flexed, pulling his shirt slightly up to show his happy trail, walking around with no shirt on, or hugging you from behind. You blushed and smiled as Dean’s muscular body pressed against yours, and it was something you didn’t expect to need. These unexpected thoughts led to constant wet dreams– Dean pushing you into the bed, ramming his cock into your ass as he praises you for being a good boy. 

“So fucking good… You’re amazing, baby boy.” Dean groans as he nibbles and kisses your neck as he fucks his cock into your tight ass. His large burly hands roam your body to soothe you from the pain. 

You woke with bad morning wood. 

Everything was going as planned, if anything, faster than Dean anticipated. He could feel you warming up to him and often begging for his attention. You two were hanging out in your room, doing nothing, and the older Winchester felt the time was right.

“Y/n… I feel like this is the right time to tell you. I’ve always loved you ever since we met.” Dean confessed as he got closer. His natural scent filled your nose as his large body was close to yours. The room was turning around, it felt like it was getting hotter as you processed what Dean said. 

You didn’t remember what you said, probably saying you loved him back, but it ended with you and Dean being in a heated kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth as he took the dominant role and pushed you into submission. Feeling your submission, he pulled you onto his lap. 

“D-dean…” You whine as you feel your stepbrother pulling your shirt off. His worn hands roam your body as he touches every crevice. His thick fingers tweaking your nipples, your moans muffled by the kiss. Suddenly, the rest of your clothing was torn off as Dean moved you from his lap to the comfortable bed. 

The cold air touches your cock causing you to moan softly. Looking up at Dean, you could see lust in his eyes and he hastily takes off his clothing, almost tripping. His whole body was only for you to see. He was muscular, with perfect abs and pectorals along with his biceps. Tone thighs as his long cock was erected, acting like a third leg. 

Dean looked down at you, seeing the eagerness in your eyes from seeing his cock. You're shifting comfortably, thrusting your hips upward to get stimulation and spreading your legs further to let Dean get more room. “Look at you… all needy and I barely did anything.” Dean groans as he wraps his hand around your aching cock, giving it slow strokes. Your breath was caught in your throat as you tried to chase the pleasure, thrusting into Dean’s hand for more. Suddenly, a loud slap rang; Dean’s hand leaving a significant handprint. 

Instead of feeling pain, you felt pleasure from being hit. This caused you to thrust more which resulted in Dean slapping your thighs. “Ah? My baby is a fucking masochist? Want me to continue?” Dean purrs as he hears you moaning like a bitch in heat. You nodded desperately, wanting more. He continued his ministration, slapping your thighs until they looked bruised– not that you minded. Your cock was throbbing painfully, coating the older Winchester’s hand with your precum. 

Dean was doing everything to prevent your orgasm: ruining it by pulling away when he feels you were close and squeezing or pinching your cockhead. While it may look painful to others, you were ascending to another reality. Your moans filled the room, and you started begging for more. “P-please… I-I need… god… more. Please! Touch me.” Your whines were music to Dean’s ear as he felt you were ready for the next stage. 

“Darling. Lick my fingers,” Dean says as he shoves his fingers into your mouth. Three thick digits filled your mouth as you lathered them with saliva, slobbering around the digits, tongue swirling. It felt like you were losing air when Dean pulled his fingers out– satisfied by how coated they were. “Good job, darling. Amazing.” the older Winchester says causing you to whine with happiness from his praise. 

Slowly, Dean pushes one finger inside, grinning as he sees you pushing yourself back onto his finger. Your breathing got heavier with only one finger filling you, and flashbacks of your boyfriend filled your vision, but Dean was much better. He was thicker and bigger, speaking about his fingers, you’re nervous about his cock. “Breath, darling. I know you’re eager, but you need to calm down so I stretch you.”  Dean says as he uses his other hand to soothe your thighs. 

Letting a soft “yes” you started relaxing. The tension leaves your body as you feel Dean pressing and pushing two more fingers inside. He was stretching you nicely, reveling in the way you were keen on fucking yourself on his fingers. Dean continued pumping his fingers, loud squelching mixing with your moans and whines. He sees your body squirming and wiggling, trying to get more. 

Dean groans with mild frustration as he tried to find the sweet spot. After wiggling and thrusting his fingers, feeling your hot ass clenching around his digits– “Dean! There! Right there!” 

Bingo

He began abusing your bundle of nerves. The tip of his fingers rammed into your sweet spot as he was milking that spot for your pleasure. Feeling the signals your body was giving, an orgasm, Dean pulled his fingers with a loud pop following. “W-why did you stop?” You whine before Dean gave your ass a harsh slap.

“I want you to cum with my dick inside you,” Dean says as he strokes his cock. Opening your drawer and pulling out a bottle of lube. He put a generous amount on his hands before lathering his aching monster cock with the substance. “Please… fucking, please. Fuck me,” you whine as you gave Dean teary eyes. 

Who was Dean to deny his darling his pleasure? 

Dean grins, slowly thrusting his cock into your ass, pausing when he is fully inside. He wants you to adjust, your ex-boyfriend probably never filled you this much. He was right. Just from him entering, you were on cloud nine. You’ve never been filled or stretched this much. Your ass clenching around Dean’s large cock, trying to pull it deeper. “Fucking hell, darlin'. That pathetic man didn’t fill you this much?” Dean groans as he starts rocking his hips, thrusting in, pulling back, and then slamming into you. 

You were already cockdrunk. The perfect feeling of Dean’s large cock filling you up, cockhead ramming into your bundle of nerves. His rough thrusts caused the bed to squeak which mixed with your loud moans and groans, caused your cries for Dean to rougher. “Fucking slut, darlin’. You feel so fucking good. This ass was made for me.” 

His praises sent you to spiral more. You then feel Dean’s worn hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing it but not hard enough to close your airways. Eye contact was made as Dean looked down– you were fucked beyond your comprehension. Drool seeped through the corners of your mouth, and your eyes rolled back as you gripped the bed sheets. “Who owns you, darlin’?” Dean growls as he grips your hips. 

“Y-you! I’m all yours!” you cried as tears rolled down your face from the stimulation. You were desperately trying to keep up with Dean. With your prostate being consistently abused, you were on the verge of prostate orgasm. 

“Atta, boy. You fucking belong to me. No longer than the pathetic excuse of a man. Only me! That’s all you need! Me…Only I get to see you like this.” Dean growls as his thrust gets sloppier. His breathing was getting heavier, your ass was heaven and it was about to send him there too. “Keep speaking. I wanna hear your voice, keep telling me who you belong to.”

You began babbling that you belonged to him repeatedly. Your mind was completely fucked to the ground. The only thing was pleasure surging through your body, your aching cock throbbing and swinging. 

Dean was internally patting himself on the back. You were wrapped around his finger. His dreams throughout the years were finally coming true. He could have the future he had planned since he was eighteen.

With each bucking and rocking of his hips, you grew closer and closer to your orgasm. Desperate for your orgasm, you began pushing back against him, attempting to match the rhythm of his thrusts. You were driving each other crazy, your bodies covered in sweat, mixing with the stench of sex filling the room. The sound of skin slapping, the symphony of your moans and his groans, and the bed squeaking; heavenly music that Dean could do every day if you were up for that. 

“So fucking good, darlin’. You’re perfect for me. I don’t care if we’re stepbrothers, you were always more than that since the day I met.” Dean moans as his breathing began to hitch, his large cock throbbing. He began praising you, making sure you would come undone. “I-I’m gonna cum… cum with me, darlin’,” Dean whines as he wraps his hand around your cock to ensure you both cum at the same time. 

Both of your breathings got rugged. Your ass trying to milk Dean’s cock off its thick creamy load, and Dean stroking your aching cock while he rams into your prostate. “I-I’m cumming!” Dean growls as he collapses onto your body, biting your shoulder harshly. Your cock exploded, its thick load coating Dean’s hand and your chest. 

Dean roars as he gives one final thrust, his cock throbbing, balls churning its load before his spend was flooding your velvety walls, painting your insides white. He groans as this is the best orgasm in his life. The ecstasy lasted for a few minutes, Dean licking the wound on your shoulder. The iron taste of blood touched his taste buds as he licked it clean. Now, people will know who you belong to. He was going to make sure of that to everyone. 

“I love you darlin’,” Dean says as he pulls his flaccid cock out, a loud squelch and pop echo as a wave of his thick cum gushes out. He bred you well. The older Winchester lay down and pulled you closer to him, wanting you to nuzzle into his body. 

The sounds of ragged breathing as you both calm down from the intense session. You cuddled into Dean’s larger body and you could feel his cum oozing out your abused hole. “I love you too.” You said as you slowly drifted off to sleep, Dean’s heartbeat comforting you. 

Dean was satisfied with how things turned out. He finally got everything he wanted. 

Your feelings and his went in opposite directions, but you both came back in a Full Circle.

THE END

A/N: Hello, my strawberries! Wow, this is the longest fic I made in a while. I do hope you’ll enjoy this. Very special thanks to my proofreader, @sagethegaywitch

TAGLIST: @spnfanboy777 @zamfam4272 @ghostking4m

[winchester-girl67]

Imagine... Dean Coming To You For Comfort

Summary: Dean looks for comfort after a nightmare. He enjoys being the little spoon. 

Requested by anonymous: “could you write a fic where dean just needs some comfort from the reader? it could be platonic and dean just had a bad day or a nightmare and doesn't want to be alone and wants to be held without asking"

Pairing: Dean x reader 

Word Count: 902 

Warnings: language, nightmares, implied violence (hunting a vamp nest), brief mention of a gun reader keeps under the pillow, a little angst, emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling, fluff 

A/N: Found this in my wips, it's a little short but sweet. Enjoy. 

_____

“I said, I'm fucking fine, okay?!” 

Dean's words echoed in your ears. You'd only asked him the once and he just snapped at you, so when you got back to the bunker you beelined for your room and slammed the door. 

You didn't get food, you didn't shower off the motel shower from a few hours earlier like you usually would, and you didn't get any sleep either. ‘Monopoly’ speaking, you did not pass 'GO'. You just pouted in your bed. 

The hunt could've gone better; it also could've gone worse. 

You stared at the ceiling, still awake and wondering how to reproach Dean. He was clearly not fine but until he was able to admit that, there was no getting through to him. Dean was just too stubborn when he was in these moods and honestly you were a little, too. You wanted to help, but you didn't want to swallow your pride and walk down that hall just to have him yell at you again. 

You weren't a masochist. But you still laid there, in bed, overthinking everything that went wrong with the hunt. 

First of all, you should've brought Sam with you, or Cas. Dean said it would be simple enough though with the two of you. It wasn't and you almost got killed. Dean, of course, wasn't letting himself forget it. You could see that written all over his face on the ride home. 

Stopping your mind from racing wasn't easy. You counted the dots on the ceiling tiles as you listened to the ticking of Dean's wristwatch on your arm. He'd synchronized it to the time on his cell and given it to you before the hunt so you could stay structured in your plan against the vamp nest. 

It was smart, until it wasn't. There were more than you expected and you always jumped the gun and went in first. Standing still wasn't the easiest thing for you to do with all that adrenaline pumping in your veins. And you were used to hunting alone. Before the Winchesters came into the picture. 

Needless to say, everything that went wrong after that was about ninety-percent your fault. The other ten was simply a miscalculation.

You'd known the Winchesters for quite some time but moving into the bunker with them was fairly new. In the back of your mind, you hoped Dean wouldn't ask you to move out. You kinda liked not being completely alone anymore. The world was tough and they felt like family already. It would break your heart for sure; shatter any trust you had left. 

Your bedroom door creaked open slowly on its old hinges and a shadowed figure peaked its head inside your room. You held your breath for a moment and gripped the cool handle of your gun underneath your pillow. 

Always on guard. Even if the bunker was the safest place you'd ever been. 

"Easy, Y/N, it's just me." Dean said, pushing the door open the rest of the way so the light of the hall revealed his features. 

His expression was soft, too soft -broken like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and the nightmares to prove it. His hair was disheveled and he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. 

"Just wanted to check on you, I'll let you get back to sleep. Sorry I woke you, sweetheart." Dean breathed deep and slowly started to shut your door. "And sorry I yelled." 

"Wait," you sat up and placed the gun on the night table next to you before switching the light on low. "Come here. Close the door." 

You flipped back the covers, shuffled over to make room and patted the mattress beside you. Dean wiped the frown from his face with his hand and did as you said. He shut the door and settled into bed next to you. Tense and unmoving once he rolled onto his side facing away from you. 

He couldn't ask, but he didn't need to. 

You clicked off the light and tugged up the covers to his chin. Your palm rubbed over his shoulders and half-way down his back, then circled up again until you felt his muscles begin to relax. 

"That feels nice," he breathed and sniffled a little. 

You continued your motions for a while longer until his breathing evened out, you could tell he was still awake but knew he didn't intend on talking things out. That wasn't Dean. So instead, you rubbed up and down his arm and molded your chest into his back, settling into your position as big spoon. You squeezed him and held his hand against his chest. 

"Thank you," he sighed and weaved his fingers through yours. 

Dean didn't talk about feelings if he didn't have to. And for someone so 'tough', more often than not, he liked to be the little spoon. Especially to your big spoon. 

There was an unspoken understanding that neither of you were ever to bring it up in the light of day. But things were just different at night and being vulnerable and open didn't feel as achy and oozy. 

Feelings were allowed to be felt in the dark. 

He'd be gone before you woke, starting breakfast and roasting coffee in the kitchen, but for now your pieces could hold his pieces together. 

And maybe you could both finally get some sleep. 

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

[alexsoenomel]

Silly Little Nightmare (Dean Winchester x Reader fluff)

Summary: You have a nightmare and you go to Dean's room

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: death and fluff (sounds about right, eh?)

Word count: 1.1k

Note: Found an old fic I wrote years ago. It was horrible so I did I little editing. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)  

Not being able to sleep was a must in your book every night.  You struggled with insomnia, nightmares and exhaustion your whole life and now living with two brothers in a cold bunker in the middle of nowhere didn’t help your situation whatsoever. The bunker was your home during the day, but a fucking nighmere during the night. The water in the pipes circling around your room made it almost impossible not to focus on the damn sound and cold air was trying to creep into your bones no matter how thick your blanket was – sometimes you hated it.

One night it got the best of you, it almost tore you apart completely and drove you to the brink of madness.  When you decided to forcefully get yourself into a deep state of sleep by taking melatonin there it was: the dream – your worst nightmare. It started off as a pleasant scenario set in the late 50’s for some unknown reason. You and the older Winchester were on a mission to kill a creature who happened to have the ability to time travel. The younger brother wasn’t there; your brain was clever enough to take everything you love away from you – step by step.  It made everything too real; every sound, every touch and every damn emotion seemed enhanced. It took you and Dean to a dark alley, similar to the ones where the worst killings and robberies would happen in real life. It made you think that Dean was the bad guy; it drugged you to the point where you couldn’t see nor hear straight. How the fuck did your brain manage to do that? You were a fucking masochist so maybe that was your answer. You couldn’t hear his voice, begging you to believe him and you didn’t see the expression on his face when you first took out your sharp knife. He looked like someone else – a monster in a human form with sharp teeth and yellow eyes, but it wasn’t Dean. He tried to run, but you were faster; he tried to fight you, but you were stronger in this universe. When you stabbed him it felt like cutting a piece of cake – surprisingly easy. You didn’t hear his hard groan but as soon as he hit the ground it was time to wake up and see what you had done. Your eyes were yours and true again as well as your ears, but you…you were far from yourself. He was laying there, blood all over his shirt and mouth, he was already far away from you. His eyes were open and empty. He was gone.

“Dean?” You got on your knees. “DEAN?”

Nothing. His groans and short breaths stopped. He wasn’t moving anymore.

“DEAN PLEASE?! Wake up?!”

“DEAN?”

“DEAN?”

The tears seemed so real and yet so foreign. Like a few drops from a cold autumn’s rain on your cheeks, but at the same time that familiar feeling of sorrow and emptiness hit you. Your body became weak, he wasn’t moving. He was gone.

You woke up. Sweat. Tears. The anger…everything hit you all at once. Shaking your head, desperately trying to pull yourself together and catch your breath, you got up and went to the hallway. It was pitch black; the darkness was overwhelming making you frantically wander. He was your first love, and first loves we tend to not forget nor get over it easily. Love sometimes wasn’t what poets make it to be; all happy and sweet as candy – it sometimes left scars, sometimes deep and more painful than any other childhood trauma you may have experienced.

No one knew about your love for Dean besides your heart. Sam was a friend, or even the brother you never had but Dean was the other side of the coin. If you could explain why he made your heart work faster you could but that was the thing about love, it was unexpected and unexplainable. The life you lived, the things you had seen, you couldn’t risk losing the friendship you had so you just buried it deep in your mind. 

His room was the first one to the left. You gently opened the door and the silence was immediately replaced with soft snores coming from the bed.

“Dean?” You whispered, closing the door. “Dean?”

The sheets started moving in the dark as you sat next to him. “(Y/N)?”

“I’m sorry I-I…” You remembered the dream again. You saw his lifeless body again. “I had a nightmare.” With your sleeve you whipped the tears trying to not sound as pathetic as you thought you did. 

“Hey, comere!” He pulled your arm and moved to the other side of the bed. You went with him under the covers feeling his warmth on your skin immediately.  He smelled like mint with a dash of alcohol plus something that screamed Dean – a mix of leather and gunpowder. He wrapped his arms around your small frame pulling you closer to him.

You would hug here and there, but never like this. This was intimate and yet familiar. 

“It was about you.” You said pressing your forehead against his chest. 

“The nightmare?”

“Yeah, I killed you. I thought you were a monster and I killed you.” The tears started creeping in again as you tried your best to keep it together. 

“It was just a dream, sweetheart.” He said softly. His chin was resting on top of your head. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up. It’s just…” You couldn’t see him and you didn’t want to, you felt stupid. A grown ass woman crying over a bad dream – even worse a hunter. 

 You lifted your head up and feeling bold you placed a kiss on his cheek. “I’m sorry.” He was still a silhouette but his eyes were on you while he was trying to restrain himself from kissing you. You weren’t the only one who had deep buried feelings in the pits of your mind. He was hooked the minute you two jammed to Ramble On by Led Zeppelin in the Impala one gloomy Sunday night after a successful hunt. 

“It’s…It’s okay.” You couldn’t see but he was flustered. 

“Can I stay? Please?”  

Something in his gut punched him, so he went for it. He kissed you. Not in the sweet ‘I have wanted to do that for a long time’ way, but ‘please never leave me I love you’ way. At first it felt like someone pushed your face into a candy bowl but with the sweetness and a light minty flavor there was also the pleasure that came with it. It literally took your breath away and you couldn’t help but moan a little.

“Stay and never leave.” He said.