#priest sam winchester x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loverslantern · 8 months ago

Text

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f! reader

Description: Sam's nightmare leads the group to Saginaw Michigan. But it's more than a nightmare and it's more than any ol' hunt. Things are revealed about the past as it sends them barreling into the future.

Warnings: Cannon violence, I might have gotten a little too carried away with the beginning scene sorry not sorry! flirtation, banter, mentions of su!cide, gore, mentions of child abuse, mentions of past abuse, guns, a roller coaster of emotions, and a lot of angst (no one can be happy...sorry!)

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara

Word Count: 9,912

Nightmare

(Masterlist, Prev Ch, Next Ch)

I turn over in my bed, burying my head deeper into the pillows to ignore the loud and insistent banging from my door. I mumble incoherently into the covers, sleep having its claws so deep into my brain. “Please open the door, sweetheart. ‘m tryna give you privacy here but if this door isn’t open in five seconds I’m gonna use my key,” Dean warns loudly, his voice raspy. I hum softly into the bedding but make no move to get up, instead snuggling deeper into the blankets. The remains of sleep creep into the corners of my mind, hazing the rest of my brain.

Suddenly a gentle calloused hand is on my bare shoulder, “Come on baby, as much as I wanna let you sleep Sammy needs us to hurry.”

“Mhm,” I hum halfheartedly, digging myself further into the bed if possible. “Alright that’s it,” he says finally. There's some shuffling before the covers are pulled back, a rush of cold air prickling my exposed legs followed by the warmth of his hands dragging up and down my calves slowly before leaving to pull down my slip nightgown further past my butt. That wakes me up. My eyes flutter open, and as much as I loved my little cotton nightgown every time I wore it to bed I woke up to a full tit out and the bottom up at my hips. Luckily this time I didn’t think it rode up so high, it had only felt like it was just barely covering my butt, so at the most, he saw a flash of my underwear which is not the most ideal thing to happen, and also insanely embarrassing but at least I was wearing one of my cute pairs. And at least he didn’t comment on it, except he did pull it down further which means he probably did see…oh god.

“Okay! I’m awake Dean!” I say, my words half mumbled by the bed but if I turned over he would also be seeing a boob today and he had seen enough already. His hands grip my ankles, his thumbs rubbing my skin, oh lord. No. I have to focus…and not on how butterflies are erupting in my stomach, fluttering around frantically, “Not convinced baby, not until I see you get up,” he conceded. He was really playing with my resolve and it was a very fickle thing to begin with.

“Yeah, so if I flip myself around you’d be getting flashed. These nightgowns…just you know…” I admit, my face warm for two different reasons. His thumbs pause and I can practically hear the arch of his brow and that devilish smirk, “By all means, continue…”

“Dean,” I warn.

“I really wouldn’t object to it, wouldn’t complain one bit,” he comments, his voice dripping with amusement. “Dean!” His hands leave me entirely and I suddenly miss the warmth he brought, “Alright, alright,” he gives in, “I’ll go, be waitin’ in the car. I’d hurry though Sam’s freaking out about needing to leave but won't say anythin’ more.”

The initial embarrassment of being woken up the way I was or at least the result of that, as well as being a little “late” had long worn off except for when Dean caught my eyes in the rearview mirror then it all came rushing back. But I needed to screw my head on right, and not get distracted by his playful teasing manner, he was most likely compensating for the fact that he had to say goodbye to the woman he loved again. Ending on good terms aside those feelings don’t just magically disappear especially when it only happened recently. Either way, I was thankful for the nightfall's darkness, because with each gaze my face heated up even if it was against my better judgment.

I needed to focus.

Sam had his ear pressed into his phone, reading from a fake ID to potentially give real information, “McReady. Detective McReady, badge number 158. I’ve got a signal 480 in progress, I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan, Michigan license plate Mary-Frank-six-zero-three-seven…Yeah okay, just hurry.”

Dean glances over at his brother, concern written in his eyes, “Sammy relax. I’m sure it’s just a nightmare.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam remarks.

“You know considering he was right about your old house I’m pretty much convinced he’s right about this one too,” I add. Dean adjusts his hold on the steering wheel, “It could also just be a dream. Y’know, a normal everyday, naked-in-class, nightmare. This license plate, it won’t check out. You’ll see,” Dean tries to reason though I can't understand why he won’t accept that Sam has been right before and will be right again, my only guess would be fear.

“I mean I suppose,” I shrug, “but even just logically speaking unless you’re lucid dreaming you can’t read in your sleep, as the part of your brain that’s responsible for logic and intellect shuts down. So following that logic, he wouldn’t have been able to read or understand that license plate, that fact must hold some merit here.”

“Alright, maybe he was lucid dreamin’ then,” Dean suggests instead, finding any reason for his brother not to be a psychic.

“It felt different Dean. Real,” Sam shakes his head, eyes focused as he tries to explain, “Like when I dreamt about the old house and Jessica.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. You’re dreaming about our house, your girlfriend,” Dean points out, “This guy in your dream, you ever seen him before?”

“No,” Sam responds.

“It doesn't matter if you've actually seen someone they can still be in your dreams because when you're walking around you're subconsciously watching and cataloging them,” I explain, “Though of course you're most likely to have dreams about people you see or think about more often, but still people you pass in real life can be in your dream.” Dean catches my eyes again in the mirror, gazing at me questioningly, “Why do you know so much about dreams?”

I shrug, “I don't know, it’s interesting so I just go down a rabbit hole of information. Plus there are a lot of psychological aspects to dreams which can make them important to analysis.” Dean shakes his head as if shaking away the information, “So why would he have premonitions about some random dude from Michigan.”

I rub my eyes, tiredness still trying to cling to me to the point of my eyes aching, “Yeah I don’t have an answer to that one.” Dean turns his gaze to his brother, silently asking him the same question, “I don’t know,” he answers. “Me neither,” Dean shrugs with one shoulder though it was more done to prove his point.

“Yes I’m here,” Sam says suddenly, pressing the phone closer to his ear. He goes silent, listening, then throws a glare at Dean and picks up his pen, “Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. ‘You have a street address?… Got it. Thanks.” He moves his phone away from him, clicking a button, most likely hanging up, “Checks out. How far are we?”

“From Saginaw? Coupla hours,” Dean answers. “Drive faster.”

The Impala cruises to a stop, Emergency vehicles lined up followed by two medical examiners pushing a stretcher with a body bag on it just being zippered. We were late and it was hard to know whether it was by a couple of minutes or hours, but it didn’t matter because we were late and someone was dead.

We approach the crowd, a couple of neighbors dressed in their pajamas and a coat watching the scene from behind a line of caution tape. “What happened?” Dean asks a nearby woman.

“Suicide,” she answers, “Can’t believe it.”

“Did you know them?” Sam questions, moving to the woman’s other side.

She frowns, “‘Saw him every Sunday at St. Augustine’s,” she replies, oversharing to a couple of strangers but it was helpful so there was no way we would tell her to stop, “He always seems…seemed so normal. I guess you never know what’s going on behind closed doors.”

“Guess not,” Dean acknowledges, looking straight ahead.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say softly, maybe she didn’t know the guy so well but seeing him weekly still meant something. She nods in thanks.

“How did…uhh” Sam stammers, “How are they saying it happened?” It was a total conversation turn but once more it was necessary. “I heard they found him in the garage, locked inside his car with the engine running,” she answers. Carbon dioxide poisoning from a car makes it hard for it to be an accident so of course the initial thought would be suicide and I doubt it would be easy to prove otherwise with a death like that.

“Do you know about what time they found him,” Sam pushes and I hope she doesn’t think we’re being weird about this and asking a little too many questions. “Oh, ‘just happened about an hour or two ago,” she says. Frick, frick that wasn’t long ago at all. “His poor family,” she continues, “I can’t even imagine what they’re going through.” I follow her gaze to a woman standing on the front steps crying against a middle-aged man. A young distraught man stands behind them. I could imagine what they were feeling and it was horrible. Grief was not pretty and those feelings were even uglier, leaving a permanent mark on your heart.

Someone tugs on my sweatshirt sleeve, I follow the motion watching Dean walk away following his brother who had stormed away. I follow them, making the quick walk to the Impala.

“Sam we got here as fast as we could,” Dean reasons.

“Not fast enough,” Sam shakes his head, a pained look painted on his face, “It doesn’t make any sense man. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn’t a chance I could stop them from happening.”

I bit my lips, thinking for a moment before speaking, “Maybe it wasn’t about him exactly, like maybe it’s bigger than that. Sometimes that happens, remember what I said about oneiromancy or using dreams to predict the future? Well sometimes it’s not so literal, sometimes it serves as a warning or pointing you in a specific direction for whatever reason. Now I know your whole thing is different and more detailed than that but do you get what I mean?”

He nods, clearly thinking it over. “I don’t know though, I’m no expert but I’m just tryna say to keep it in mind,” I add. He shakes his head and sighs, “So what do you think killed him?”

“Maybe the guy just killed himself?” Dean suggests, “Maybe there’s nothing supernatural going on at all.”

“Then why would he have such a vivid dream of just some random dude dying?” I point out, immediately realizing my contradiction. “I dunno,” Dean shrugs, “Maybe it’s like you said, it’s pointing to somethin’ else.”

“I watched it happen. He was murdered by something. I watched it trap him in the garage,” Sam explains.

“What was it, a spirit, poltergeist, what?” Dean asks in rapid succession. Sam huffs, “I don’t know what it was. I don’t know why I’m having these dreams, I don’t know what the hell is happening!” He was freaking out, totally and utterly freaking out and he had every right to be. “It’s alright Sam,” I say softly, “We’ll figure this out, I promise. ‘No matter how long it takes.”

He sighs, mumbling a “Thanks.” I couldn't imagine what he was feeling, I always knew who I was even if nobody else did. To know one thing your whole life just to be thrown onto a totally new path with no explanation must be terrifying. “What,” Sam says suddenly throwing a look at his brother who was just staring at him. Dean shrugs, “Nothing. I’m just, I’m worried about you man,” he confesses.

“Well don’t look at me like that!” Sam yells. Dean looks away, “I’m not looking at you like anything,” he retorts, glancing back, “Though I gotta say, you do look like crap.”

“Dean. Really?” I say.

“Nice. Thanks,” Sam replies, pursing his lips. With a small smile, Dean moves to the driver's side of the car, pulling the door open, “Come on, let’s just pick this up in the morning. We’ll check out the house, talk to the family.”

“Dean, you saw them, they’re devastated. They’re not going to want to talk to us,” Sam reasons. Dean pauses in thought, “Yeah, you’re right. But I think I know who they will talk to.”

I scoff, “Who?”

I pull open my motel door, the sun shining brightly behind the man in front of me highlighting his stunning green eyes. His arms are hidden behind his back, “What do you have there?” I ask, squinting at him suspiciously. “Oh, just a little somethin’” he smirks devilishly, gazing down at me.

“You’re scaring me,” I admit, “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” he grins revealing what he was hiding. He holds up a rectangular Halloween costume bag, the classic orange logo on the top, and a blonde woman in a nun costume holding a ruler on the other side. I look between him and the bag his smile never leaving his face a mischievous sparkle in his eye, “Sam and I are going as Preiests so we need our nun,” he explains.

“Tell me you're joking,” I say blankly, my face falling.

“Not at all sweetheart.”

I huff a laugh, pointing at the bag, “I’m not wearing that.”

“You gotta,” he replies.

“No offense to the nuns of the world, but I would rather be shot dead than wear that.”

“‘Cause it’s not cute?” Dean asks though it comes off more like a statement as he knows my answer. “Yes,” I answer flatly, “I’m not wearing that.”

“Maybe I shoulda picked up the slutty one,” he retorts, thinking he got me there. I cross my arms across my chest, wetting my lips, “You should’ve, ‘be good for Halloween,” I counter. Checkmate. He drags his eyes across my frame. my face heats up, “While I’d love to see to that, Halloween is months away and you’re being ridiculous.”

“Still not wearing it,” I say as sternly as I can manage, which isn’t very considering my mind trying to compute what he said. “Come on,” he grumbles, “what am I gonn’ do with a nun costume now?” He pushes past me, stepping deeper into the room. I close the door, turning around, “I don't know, return it? Or use it for one of your one-night stands, I’m sure you’ll find someone kinky enough.”

He looks at me blankly, deadpanning, “You’re wearing it.”

“No”

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes”

“I’ll just sit this one out, wait in the car or something ‘till you’re done,” I say.

“You’re wearing it,” he repeats.

“No”

“Yes”

“You’re not winning this one!” I throw my hands up.

“Y/N come on!”

“No!”

He groans, annoyed, “If you wear it I’ll buy you whatever book you want.”

Oh. I mean it’s only a couple of minutes of embarrassment and ugly clothing, “Okay, deal. Fine.” His wide grin returns, he throws the bag at me and I catch it, looking down at it with disgust. “‘Not gonna bite sweetheart,” Dean says as he heads out.

“Yeah, but I might,” I mumble.

I fixed the Coif on my head for the hundredth time, I should’ve put more bobby pins in my hair. God. How did Nuns wear these? It just digs into your scalp and the most hair you could show was just the very top, probably about three inches, the rest of your hair was hidden along with your ears. It was the least cute or sexy thing to ever exist, faces were not being framed.

“Quit poutin’, you're supposed to be a Nun, be happy,” Dean comments as he rounds the car.

“I look like I'm going to burn myself at the stake,” I huff.

Sam laughs, having to bite back the noise. “You look fine,” Dean says. I look down at myself, the long black dress covering everything down at my ankles and a strange-looking white squared bib thing around my neck, “Who are you lying to right now!”

Dean huffs frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“At least you guys look good, like really good,” I say maybe a little too honestly. Sam had his hair all jelled back in a cute little hairdo, he was quite adorable. And on the other side, it really must have been the all-black attire, forget about the clerical cuff and that damn silver ring on his finger that made Dean look so good. Otherwise, there was something deeply wrong with me and I’d have to reevaluate my life, ‘cause there should be no reason for a “Priest” to look so damn fine. Lord, I need help.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Dean declares. He leads the way crossing the street and walking right up the porch, he rings the doorbell that silver ring glinting in the light. Sam sighs, “This has gotta be a whole new low for us.”

“Amen,” I mumble.

The door opens slowly and I throw away my pout replacing it with a kind smile. The older man from yesterday stands at the door, blocking our view of the rest of the house. Now that it wasn’t dark out and I was far closer, I was able to take note of him: a round-faced man with dark eyebrows and a sort of buzzcut.“Good afternoon,” Dean starts, “I’m Father Simmons, this is Father Frehley, and this is Sister Kathern We’re new junior priests over at St Augustine's. May we come in?”

The man nods, stepping aside. “Thanks,” Dean says entering first. I give the man a polite nod, “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

“It’s in difficult times like these when the Lord’s guidance is most needed,” Dean adds.

“Look, you wanna pitch your whole ‘Lord has a plan’ thing? Fine. Just don’t pitch it to me. My brother’s dead,” the man spits, his face wobbling with choked emotion. An older blonde woman appears, her soft hair only reaching her shoulders, her eyes etched in sadness, “Roger. Please!” she lectures. Roger moves away, escaping to some other part of the house, “Excuse me.”

“I’m sorry about my brother-in-law. He’s…he’s just so upset about Jim’s death,” she explains.

“You don’t have to apologize, we completely understand. Everyone grieves differently,” I say sincerely. Her eyes soften, a sad smile on her face, “Would you like some coffee?”

“That would be great,” Dean answers.

****

I sit next to Sam on the loveseat, Dean beside him in an armchair. Ms. Miller pours coffee gently into a couple of little white mugs, she hands one to each of us, “It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now.”

“Of course. After all, we are all God’s children,” Dean replies smoothly, taking a sip of the black coffee. She stands up taking the coffee pot with her. Dean takes that opportunity to shove a bunch of cocktail sausages into his mouth, he was really taking advantage of her leaving food out on a little platter. “What?” he asks with a mouthful of food, responding to his brothers staring. “Just…tone it down a little bit, Father,” he responds.

Ms. Miller returns then, emptyhanded, she sits back down. Dean swallows his mouth full of food before talking again, “So Ms. Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?”

“Nothing like that,” she answers her eyes already tearing up, “We had our ups and downs like everyone but we were happy,” the tears run rapidly down her face, “I just don’t understand…how Jim could do something like this.”

“I’m so sorry you had to find him like that,” Sam replies sincerely. She wipes her tear-stained face, gesturing behind her, “Actually, our son Max, he was the one who found him.”

“Do you mind if maybe, I go talk to him?” Sam asks.

“Oh thank you, Father,” she musters a sad smile. He rises, following the direction she pointed.

“Ms.Miller you have a lovely home. How long have you lived here?” Dean inquires.

“We moved in about five years ago,” she answers.

“The only problem with these old homes, ‘bet it gives you all kinds of headaches,” he comments. Her face washes over in confusion, “Like what?”

“Well, weird leaks, electrical shortages, odd settling noises at night,” he lists, “That kind of thing.”

She shakes her head, “No, nothing like that. It’s been perfect.”

“Huh,” Dean hums, “May I use your restroom?”

“Oh sure, it’s just up the stairs,” she says. He nods, rising and taking another cocktail sausage before leaving. Now I was left to fend for myself in a social situation I wasn't totally prepared for. What do I say? “Is there anything I could do for you that might make you feel better? I understand how hard it is now.”

She tears up again, “I don’t know.” I lean over placing a gentle hand on her arm, “It’s okay…it’s okay," I say softly.

I enter the boy's motel room, following Sam. We had just come back from researching about the Miller’s house. I close and lock the door behind me, so grateful that I had been out of that nun outfit for more than an hour. “What do you have?” Dean asks, his entire arsenal spread out around him as he sits on the edge of the bed cleaning a gun. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he works the weapons, I have to force my gaze away. Men should not be allowed to look good doing random tasks, it wasn’t fair.

“A whole lotta nothing. Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built,” Sam answers sinking onto his bed.

“What about the land?” Dean questions further.

“Nope,” I say, “There were no battles or graveyards, it’s not tribal land and no kind of atrocities happened on or near the property.”

“Hey man I told you, I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfer scent. Nada,” Dean adds.

“And the family said everything was normal?” Sam checks.

“Well, if there was a demon or poltergeist in there you think somebody would have noticed something? I used the inferred thermal scanner man, and there was nothing,” Dean answers.

I sigh moving to sit at the end of Sam's bed, “Back to square one.”

“So what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?” Sam questions.

“I dunno,” Dean answers truthfully, “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing supernatural about that house.”

Sam gets a pained look in his eyes, bringing his hand up to rub his temples, “Yeah. Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house,” he inhales sharply holding his head, “Maybe it’s just…Gosh,” he clutches his head, “... Maybe its connected to Jim in some other way?”

“Sammy you okay?” I ask, placing a careful hand on his bicep just as Dean says, “What’s wrong with you?” I throw him a sharp glare, way to word it. Sam makes strained pained noises, sinking to the floor, “My head.”

Dean practically jumps from his bed, “Sam? Hey,” he sinks right next to his brother in a crouch grabbing Sam’s arms, “Hey! What’s going on? Talk to me.”

I stand up concern running through my blood, “Sam! Come on!” I've never seen something like this before, it was completely foreign which only made it more terrifying. Dean throws a pleading look at me and I stand not knowing what to do, “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry.” He turns back to his brother, not saying anything as he holds on to him.

Then, Sam slowly removes his hands from his head, focusing back on reality as he warns, “It’s happening again. Something’s gunna kill Roger Miller.”

My leg bounces in the back seat. once more we were running against an invisible and unknown clock, running to save someone with little to no information given. And once more Sams is on the phone trying to get information quickly that will help us, “Roger Miller. Uh no no, just the address, please. Ok, thanks.” He goes quiet with the information before hanging up and reciting it, “450 West Grove, Apartment 1120.”

“You ok?” Dean asks, eyeing his brother in quick succession.

“Yeah,” he answers in the least convincing tone possible.

“If you’re gunna hurl I’ll pull the car over you know, cause the upholstery…” Dean says, not really joking.

“I’m fine,” Sam answers still not convincingly enough.

“Alright,” Dean shrugs, dropping it.

“Just drive,” he says, looking away. He sighs, “Look, I’m scared, alright? These nightmares weren’t bad enough, now I’m seeing things when I’m awake? And it’s painful.”

“Come on man, you’ll be all right. It’ll be fine,” Dean comforts in his own way. I wet my lips, choosing my words carefully, “Whatever these abilities are, they’re advancing which is why it’s breaching into day. And because it's leaning more toward psychic abilities it takes a great amount of will, and concentration, and puts a horrible strain on your mind which is why it's painful. But the more you work on it the better it’ll be.”

He turns around in the passenger seat, facing me, “You have telekinesis, right?” I nod, his eyebrows scrunch together, “It hurt when you were first started?”

“God, yes,” I laugh bittersweet, “It just requires so much focus, more so at first, that I had headaches constantly. I tried not to use too much Advil, but they were definitely making a profit off of me, that’s for sure.” He seems to consider the information, turning back in his seat, “Then what is it about the Millers? Why am I connected to them, why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?!”

“I don’t know Sam but we’ll figure it out,” Dean answers, “We’ve faced the unexplainable every day. This is just another thing.”

Sam shakes his head, “No. It’s never been us. It’s never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can’t tell me this doesn’t freak you out, Dean.”

Dean looks straight out the windshield silently, he couldn’t lie because Sam and I both witnessed him freak out before over it. Of course, then we’d all been younger, and he lashed out at me and when he left he hadn’t talked to me or apologized for months, I think it was about five. These sorts of things do freak him out, and sometimes I think the things I’m capable of doing still scare him sometimes, and that's just with someone he's friends with. With his brother, that fear must be a million times worse. “This doesn’t freak me out,” he finally says, lying.

****

The Impala pulls up across the street from Roger, who approaches his apartment's entrance with a bag of groceries in his hands. Sam rolls down the window swiftly yelling for the man, “Hey Roger.” The man turns around, the annoyance on his face clear as day, “What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone.”

I lean over rolling down the window opposite of where I sit, “Sir this has nothing to do with religion! Trust me.”

“Please,” Sam adds. But Roger is already gone, walking closer to his building. Suddenly the car jerks into motion the engine gunning as it makes a quick turn around, and with a bump Dean jumps the curve hurriedly parking as Sam jumps out running after the man, “Hey. Roger. We’re trying to help! Please! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.”

I get out of the vehicle, round the black car, and head to Sam’s side, Dean following. As Sam reaches the entrance, Roger closes the door behind him, “I don’t want your help.” He walks deeper into the building and in a last-ditch effort Sam yells, “We’re not priests or nuns, you gotta listen to us!”

“Roger, you’re in danger!” Dean yells after him. But of course he doesn't hear them or if he does he just ignores the warnings. God people are so stubborn. “Come on,” Dean suddenly says looking towards a back entrance, he leads the way as we run around the corner of the building to the back entrance, a door in the way. With a quick look around Dean steps back and kicks it open, the door bursts open with a crack.

Sam jumps for the bottom ladder of the fire escape, using his tall frame to easily reach it, he pulls himself up and starts running for the stairs. Dean turns to me offering me a cupped hand, “You comin’?” he asks. I shake my head, pushing strands of hair behind my ear, “No you go, there isn't enough room for the three of us on that thing, you go. I’ll keep watch. He needs you.”

He looks me over, before nodding and jumping for the ladder, catching up to his brother swiftly. Against my better judgment instead of keeping watch, I look up at them, a hand blocking the sun as they make it up to the second floor. Then all of a sudden there's a heavy squeak and slide of a window followed by a wet squelching noise. Sam freezes, Dean sprints past him and stops looking down at something I can’t see from down here but even so, I know it is Roger’s severed head.

****

“I’m telling you there was nothing there. No signs either, just like the Miller’s house,” Dean informs, once more the three of us in the car this time driving back to the motel. Sam squints his eyes, slightly, in focus, “I saw something, in the vision, Like a dark shape. Something was…something was stalking Roger.”

“Whatever it was, are you sure it’s not connected to their house?” Dean asks, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

“You know that argument doesn't really hold up anymore considering Roger died in his apartment,” I answer fidgeting with my fingers, “So it could be the family itself.”

“So you think, like a vengeful spirit?” Sam questions.

“Well yeah,” Dean responds, “There’s a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years.”

“Angiak. Banshees,” Sam lists out examples.

“Wouldn’t you have still picked up on something when you were snooping around?” I ask this time, looking up from my hands. “No, I was thinking somethin’ more like a curse,” Dean explains, “Maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse-worthy.”

Sam hums, adding to the working theory, “And now the something is out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying…Hey, you think Max is danger?”

“Let’s figure it out before he is,” Dean remarks. Sam sighs, “Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people.”

“What’s that?” Dean asks.

“Both our families are cursed,” Sam says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. I frown, one because he feels that way and two because I dislike when people say that. Dean huffs, “Our family’s not cursed! We just…had our dark spots…”

“Our dark spots are…pretty dark,” Sam nods slowly. Dean eyes him, “You’re….dark.”

I scuff, “Well as dark as it was you don’t have to worry, curses aren’t real.”

Sam turns around in his seat, facing me, “You’re a witch and you don’t believe in curses?”

I tilt my head giving him a ‘really?’ look, “That’s not what I meant, of course those kinds of curses exist they are very real and palpable things,” I wet my lips, “What I meant is that this curse you suggest to be the reason why you suffered misfortune isn’t real and that goes for everybody. Bad things just happen. And I know you probably weren’t being too literal but still blaming bad things on curses doesn’t help you in the long run it just serves as an excuse for you not to face your problems and acknowledge the real issue.”

Sam looks at me with slightly wide eyes and when I look at Dean, his expression is more or less the same if not even more, “What?” I ask eyeing the two of them. Sam turns back around in his seat a small smirk on his face, Dean gives a little shrug, “Nothin’, just someone’s using their psychology degree.”

I snort, suddenly getting shy, “Shut up,” I mumble. The thing was I wasn’t using my psychology degree this was just me, not that I was embarrassed by my degree. I took education very seriously, especially college. So of course I wound up double majoring, one in criminal justice and the other in psychology, but could you blame a girl? Either way, I didn't like when people said things like that, blaming something on a force they didn’t understand and had no real play in any of it.

I pull down the sleeves of the black Nun dress, readjusting the material, “I hope you know this is another book,” I say closing the car door behind me. Dean seems to round the Impala quicker at that, “What?! No, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

I purse my lips, “Yes, but when we made that deal it was under the presumption that it would only happen once in this case. And yet, here we are again.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something more but his brother cuts him off, “Wait, you guys made a deal?”

I smile triumphantly, “Yup!”

Sam frowns a little pout to his lips, his puppy-dog eyes turned down, “Man,” he whines, “I should’ve made a deal.”

“You should’ve,” I respond, thinking for a moment, “You know what? I will extend my second book to you, you are now included!”

He shakes his head, “No Y/N it's okay, have your books.”

Now I shake my head, “No no I want to, nothing would bring me more joy than the three of us going to a bookstore, and while Dean impatiently waits for us and grumbles to himself we get to wreak havoc and choose books!” Sam smiles with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “That does sound like a good idea.”

“You’re an evil woman,” Dean grumbles.

I smile sweetly at him, “I prefer ‘wicked’ but I guess that’s close enough.”

He eyes me for a beat, tongue against cheek as if he is contemplating saying something but ultimately he looks away, “We’re meant to be checking in on Max.”

Oh, “Yeah,” I say leading the way. “See, this always happens,” he states, reaching my side in one stride.

“What happens?” Sam asks.

“Whenever you two are together we get nothing done,” he elaborates. I fake a hurt gasp, “That’s so not true!” I mean we could be annoying, sure, but that was our whole job especially since we’re younger siblings it’s just how it works.

We reach the door and he knocks before anyone can say anything more on the topic. Instead of Ms. Miller answering the door her son, Max, does. He opens the door wider, “My Mom’s resting, she’s pretty wrecked.”

“Of course,” Dean nods, stepping deeper into the house.

“All these people kept coming with like, casseroles?” Max says, making small talk, “I finally had to tell them all to go away. You know 'cause nothing says I’m sorry like a tuna casserole.” I bite back my laugh, very poorly, he caught it giving a smile back to me and Sam who was also grinning at the joke. Max gestures to the seating area his mom put us just earlier today, and just like then we all take the same seats, but this time it's Max in front of us.

A beat of silence goes on before Sam sighs, speaking softly he asks, “How ‘you holding up?”

His face drops a little, answering with a small, “Ok.”

“You’re Dad and your uncle were close,” Sam follows up, stating instead of asking.

He shrugs, “Yeah, I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little.”

“But not much lately?” Sam asks.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” he shifts in his seat, “We used to be neighbors when I was a kid before we lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time.”

“Right. So how was it in that house when you were a kid?” Sam questions further.

“It was fine. Why?” Max answers, dismissively. He was uncomfortable, something about that old house made him uneasy.

“All good memories? Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?” Dean asks this time, skepticism written in his voice. Max shakes his head, slight panic crawling in his irises, “What do yo…..why do you ask?”

I recognized that panic. Knew it well. I remember wearing it, how it crawled over my skin. “Don’t worry it’s just a question,” I nod, noting his behavior.

“No, there was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy,” he replies suddenly more sure of his answer.

“Good. That’s good,” Dean answers, “Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off.”

Catching on Sam nods, “Right,” he looks back at Max, “thanks.”

Max eyes us, something between panic and questioning, “Yeah.”

****

We make it to the Imapla before debriefing, the panic in his eyes burning into my retinas.

“No one’s family is totally normal and happy,” Dean starts, pointing out the faults of Max’s response, “See when he was talking about his old house?”

“He sounded scared,” Sam answers sadly.

A chill runs up my spine, “More than that, he was petrified. And I don’t think it has anything to do with the house…”

“Yeah, Max isn’t telling us everything,” Dean agrees, “I say we go find the old neighborhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers.”

I shift my footing, fixing my pants (which I was glad to be in again) as I watch the older man named Rob in front of us. “Have you lived in the neighborhood very long?” Sam asks him.

“Yeah, almost 20 years now. It’s nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy,” he answers and I can’t tell if he wants us to be interested or wishes to keep out outsiders. Maybe the earlier, he seems kind.

“No, no,” Sam smiles, “Actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street I believe.”

“Yeah, the Millers. They had a little boy called Max,” Dean adds.

“Yeah I remember,” he responds, “The brother had the place next door. So, uh, what’s this about, is that poor kid ok?” That makes me stumble over my thoughts, “He….um, I’m sorry why did you word it like that?”

Rob frowns, “Well in my life I’ve never seen a child treated like that. I mean I’d hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street, he was a mean drunk.” My skin curls up, my fears confirmed. My heart recoils, cowering away from the information and the thoughts. “He used to beat the tar outta Max. Bruises. Broke his arm two times that I know of,” Rob continued.

I take a subconscious step backward. I don’t understand, if he knew why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t he call the police?

“This was going on regularly?” Sam asks, his voice firm.

“Practically every day. In fact that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy but the worst part was the sepmother. She’d just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good.”

I suddenly feel nauseous. He was finally free now but that was too many years too late.

“Now you said stepmother,” Dean says for confirmation. How could he not be reacting to this information?

“I think his real mother died. Some sorta…accident. Car accident I think,” Rob answers.

Suddenly Sam clutches his head again, grimacing. Rob looks at him strangely, “Are you okay there?”

He winces, “Uh, yeah.” Dean holds the crook of his brother's arm, leading him away as he throws back a “Thanks for your time.”

I blink out of what feels like a daze, mustering a smile for the man, “Have a nice day,” I say before catching up to the boys. But my feet feel heavy, as if cylinder blocks had been tied to my ankles. My intestines seem to twist itself into a knot, wrapped around like a bow. I clutch my shirt where my stomach is, my heart seems to beat faster an unnerving feeling settling itself into the vessels. I could hardly focus on my tense body and anxious thoughts when Sam’s head lulls back, his eyes doing that thing where you can tell he isn’t here with us right now. He’s somewhere else, having a vision.

****

I want to curl into myself and shy away from the current case. But we were in the Impala driving back to the Millers house and Sam still had to tell us about his vision. “Max is doing it. Everything I’ve been seeing,” Sam reveals. I should be surprised but I’m not, maybe it’s because of the newfound information.

“You sure about this?” Dean asks, almost skeptical.

“Yeah, I saw him,” he confirms.

“How is he doing it?” I ask carefully.

“I think telekinesis,” Sam answers.

“What so he’s psychic?” Dean questions, definitely skeptical.

“I didn’t even realize it but this whole time, he was there. He was outside the garage when his Dad died, he was in the apartment when his Uncle died,” Sam elaborates, “These visions, this whole time–I wasn’t connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is I don't get why, man. I guess—because we’re so alike?”

“What are you talking about? The dude’s nothing like you,” Dean responds firmly.

“Well,” Sam tries to reason, “We both have psychic abilities, we both…”

“Both what? Sam, Max is a monster, he’s already killed two people, now he’s gunning for a third,” Dean exclaims. This was all getting very complicated very fast. “He’s not a monster he’s a kid. It isn’t his fault, he’s a product of his messed up childhood,” I defend, my voice filled with perhaps a little too much emotion.

“With what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people? I’m sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it’s not that insane,” Sam adds, agreeing. I nod vigorously, it isn’t insane, not one bit.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t justify murdering your entire family!” Dean yells, his voice louder than needed.

“No of course not. But clearly, no one else was caring about him. No one made any effort to help him, not even the police! So you must understand why he felt like he needed to take justice into his own hands,” I argue. This was complicated, this was human. And humans, human feelings get messy very quickly.

“You're suggesting he's a necessary evil?” Dean counters, his voice gruff and on edge.

“Maybe, yeah,” I answer, crossing my arms across my chest. The car jerked right, driving up to the curb in front of the Miller’s house. “He’s no different from anything else we’ve hunted, all right? We gotta end him,” Dean lectured.

“We’re not going to kill Max,” Sam and I say at the same time, our voices overlapping. “He’s a kid!” I add.

“Then what?” Dean counters, “Hand him over to the cops and say ‘Lock him up officer; he kills with the power of his mind.’”

I huff, “That’s not the point and you know it. We can talk him down, he isn’t a monster and I highly doubt he would kill just for fun. He’s angry and he’s hurt, he needs help. If we do that then we are just as bad as his uncle and his dad and the cops that refused to help.”

He shuts the engine off, pursing his lips and shaking his head, “All right fine. But I’m not letting him hurt anybody else.” Yet, despite his words he leans over to the glove compartment and pulls out a pistol. He glares at Sam as he gets out of the car. I catch his eyes, “Dean.” He looks at me, challenging me, before ultimately getting out and tucking the gun into the back of his pants. I roll my eyes, tongue in cheek, pissed. I get out of the car, joining the boys but not before slamming the car door behind me.

We run up the porch, Sam in the lead. He knocks on the door, and when no response comes he leans over the railing peeking in the window. He looks back at us and he does not have to say anything for us to know what was happening. Max was going to kill his Stepmother.

Without thinking any further, Dean raises his leg to kick the door in. I stop him, “Dude way to be inconspicuous. Let me.” He backs up a few steps, hands raised in defeat. I grasp the cold knob of the door, not needing to put much effort into getting the door unlocked. We rush into the kitchen, where Sam said Max would do it. Ms. Miller presses her back closer against the counters, her eyes wide and filled with tears and fear as she watches her son in front of her. Her eyes snap to us, “Fathers? Sister?” Ironically enough, we weren’t dressed up instead in normal clothes which I wasn’t sure if priests and nuns ever did. Max spins around, poorly concealing the large knife behind his back, his hair is a mess and his eyes match his stepmothers in fear after all he was caught. “What are you doing here?” he asks, afraid.

“Uhh, sorry to interrupt,” Dean answers awkwardly.

“Max, can we, uh, can we talk to you outside for just one second?” Sam leads, fumbling for an excuse. He eyes us, he doesn’t trust us, “About what?”

“It’s….it’s private. I wouldn’t want to bother your mother with it,” Sam lies, “We won’t be long at all though, I promise” he says directing it to Ms.Miller. Max looks back at his stepmom and then at us, “Ok.”

“Great,” Sam smiles.

We turn to leave, making it out of the kitchen and to the front door. Dean takes the lead with his hand grasping the doorknob, pulling it open he smiles back at Max awkwardly. Then all of a sudden the doorknob is pulled from his grasp and the door slams shut, followed by the dropping of all the blinds for each window. Impressive. I turn around swiftly watching Max as he backs up, “You’re not priests! Or a nun,” he yells.

Dean draws his gun quickly, but without even moving a muscle Max uses his powers to pull the gun away, it slides across the floor and he crouches down to take it. He stands up tall, pointing the gun at us. Dean nudges me slightly behind him, I want to shove my way in front of him but he holds his arm out in front of me and I don’t feel the need to argue now of all times. Ms.Miller appears in the archway between where we are and the kitchen, “Max, what’s happening?”

“Shut up,” he bites.

“What are you doing?” she repeats, approaching carefully. Removing one hand from the gun he swings his arm towards her, using his power to send her flying back into the kitchen, she hits her head against the kitchen bench before sliding down to the floor. “I said shut up!” he yells at her unconscious figure.

“Max calm down,” Sam says steadily, holding his hands up in defeat.

“Who are you?” Max snaps.

“We just wanna talk,” Sam responds with instead. Max scuffs, “Yeah right, that’s right you bought this!” he motions with the weapon. Sam takes a careful step forward, “That was a mistake, all right? So was lying about who we were. But no more lying Max, okay? Just please, just hear me out.”

He eyes us carefully, “About what?”

“I saw you do it,” Sam explains, carefully, “I saw you kill your Dad and your Uncle before it happened.”

“What?” Max questions.

“I’m having visions Max, about you,” Sam elaborates.

“You’re crazy,” Maxx huffs.

“So what, you weren’t gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?” He challenges, taping his eye, “Right here? Is it that hard to believe Max, look what you can do. Max I was drawn here, all right? I think I’m here to help you.”

His hold on the gun tightens as fresh tears run down his face rapidly, “No one can help me.”

“That’s not true,” I say softly, “I know it feels that way now, and I’m sorry it does. But if anyone can help,” I look at Sam, “It’s him,” I look back at Max, “Please.”

Sam nods, wetting his lips, “Let me try. We’ll just talk, me and you. We’ll get Dean, Y/N, and Alice out of here.”

“Uh-huh. No way,” Dean intervenes. The chandelier above us rattles, “Nobody leaves this house!” Max yells. I want to cut in, I could contain him in a matter of seconds a minute at best. He was skilled, but I certainly knew more than he did. Yet I know I can’t do anything, he’s scared so rushing him with my abilities won’t help. Treating him like a monster won’t help.

“And nobody has to, all right? They’ll just…they’ll just go upstairs,” Sam reasons, but the light fixture continues to rattle.

“Sam, I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Dean mutters.

“Yes, you are,” Sam answers firmly, “Look, Max. You’re in charge here, all right, we know that. No one's going to do anything that you don’t want to do but I’m talking five minutes here man.”

“Sam!” Dean intervenes again. I place a hand on his upper arm, gaining his attention fast and without words, not wanting to scare Max off, I give him a look and a nod silently telling him that his brother will be okay and that he can handle himself. His lip twitches as if he’s fitting off a scowl.

“Five minutes?” Max asks, the chandelier stops shaking, “Go” he nods to his stepmother.

I walk carefully behind Dean, waiting for him as he picks up Ms. Miller, I lead the way up the wooden stairs entering the master bedroom. Dean lays her down carefully, and I find the bathroom attached to the room. I quickly go through the drawers finding a small washcloth, carefully I wet it and ring it out before walking back into the bedroom to find Dean pacing the room, hand by his face. I approach him carefully, he stops his pacing when I step in front of him but worry is written clearly in his eyes, and in the way he hasn’t stopped biting his thumbs nailbed, a habit he exhibited only when he was worried about Sammy.

I raise my free hand to him, pulling it away from his mouth, “He’ll be okay, he knows what he's doing.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything as he takes the washcloth from me before moving past me, he crouches in front of Ms.Miller, lightly pressing the cloth to the small wound on her forehead. He was distracting himself.

I frown. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in his brother, he was just worried. For as much as this was for Sam it was nearly too much for Dean too, he might not be going through it but he was watching someone else navigate the messy plains of powers and the pain that came with it…that was scary. Especially since Dean has always taken his job as an older brother very seriously, doing anything and everything for him no matter the cost, he was meant to be his protector but with these newfound abilities Dean didn’t know how to help, how to protect his little brother– and that scared him.

I cross my arms across my chest, trying to think of what to say when I hear movement heading towards us. I turn towards the door, it creaks open slowly, Max’s figure standing right at the doorway the gun clutched in his hand at his side. I give him a questioning look, but his face is determined and there’s no Sam.

There’s no Sam.

Panic settles in my veins and before I can react Dean is standing in front of me, pushing me further behind him before he takes purposeful steps towards Max. The door slams shut and suddenly Dean goes flying left, barreling into the wall. Oh, two can play that game.

“Max!” Ms.Miller yells from behind me, having woken up in the short time her son arrived. Max points the gun at me with shaky hands, “Move,” he commands. I bring my powers forward, flicking it on, “Do you want to try?” I warn bitterly. He laughs, shaking, “Do you think you’re like me too?”

I assume Sam must have said something about that to him downstairs, “No,” I answer softly. He raises his other hand at me, flicking it to the left trying to send me flying too but I don’t budge. He looks confused and tries again but once more I don’t move. “Max please just put the gun down, this isn’t the way, I promise you,” I reason.

“You don’t get it!” he yells, shaking. I smile at him sadly, holding up my hands in defeat, “Dad drinks and he gets mean,” I say, “You think he doesn’t mean it, he’s just grieving. But it happens one too many times and you get scared.”

His resolve weakens and tears run down his face, “Your Dad?” He isn’t sure whether he should believe me or if I'm just lying to talk him down. I take a quick look over at Dean, who still lies on the floor looking at me with eyes wide, I never told him and I don’t think he ever knew.

I look back at Max, “Yes. My brother took most of it for me, but I reminded him too much of my mother and she was gone while I lived and that was not fair,” I swallow roughly, “I didn’t think he was capable. My mom loved him and he was never like that when she was around, but they did always say she softened him so maybe that’s why.”

“What did you do?” he asks, lowering the gun just a little. I go quiet and he does not like that, he raises the gun again, “Did you kill him?!” he screams.

I shake my head, “No. He managed that all by himself, he grew very careless.”

His eyes scrunch together in confusion, “Did you want to?”

I shake my head again, “No, I didn’t want to be like him. Didn’t want to stoop to his level. My brother though…he, um, I think he wanted to. But he didn’t. When he died, I didn’t cry at his funeral, I wasn’t as sad as I knew I should’ve been, and that alone makes me feel so guilty…” I take a careful deep breath trying to blink away the tears, “Please put the gun down, I know you're angry, you have every right to be. And I know you’re scared but doing this. It won’t help.”

“How do you know!” he screams, his face red, but it comes out weak.

“He’s dead and I’m still scared sometimes,” I admit out loud for the first time, tears slipping down my cheeks as my powers revert to it’s resting stage, “I think I hear his voice or that I see him in a crowd, and I know it’s not really him. But my heart picks up and I think he’s there, and I know what that means and I get scared.”

He looks at me, really looks at me and it is like looking in a mirror, our pain reflecting in each other. He lets go of the gun, but it doesn’t hit the floor instead it floats in front of him, “I’m not you, I won’t sit back and take it. She has to die, they all had to.”

His words feel like a stab to my hurt but I ignore them, “No, Max, please. It won’t help.” I don’t look away from him but even so, I hear Dean standing up and I can feel him getting closer. He puts himself in front of me again, I try to get him behind me, a gun wouldn’t exactly kill me, but he looks down at me his green eyes hard. He moves me behind him, looking back at Max, “You wanna kill her you gotta go through me first.”

“Fine,” he says. Just as the door busts open, Sam comes barreling in, “No don’t! Don’t! Please. Please,” Sam begs, “Max. Max. We can help you. All right.”

I move away from Dean despite the arm that he holds out to stop me from getting closer. Max is shaking, and sweaty, and tears run down his face rapidly. He looks at Sam with anguish, then his gaze turns to me eyes filled with a familiar pain. But his shoulders suddenly drop, and his face clears, “You’re right. It won’t stop.”

The floating gun points at himself. A loud bang rings in the room. Bits of blood splatter on my face. His body crumbles to the floor, a hole in his head.

I stare blankly at a spot on the floor, a small swirl in the wooden floors. Sirens whirl just outside, and cops stand all around us. His body was brought out in a bag. Yellow caution tape sections off parts of the house. Something light was placed in my hand, something to clean the…

Muffled voices sing near me.

He’s dead. I couldn’t convince him, if anything I made it worse. I should’ve said it gets better because it does and it’s not that common that I get scared, I can’t. Not with this job. But I didn’t want to lie and I made it worse.

I feel sick.

I couldn’t help.

He didn’t want to be like me. He’s dead.

He didn’t want to be like me and I didn’t want to be my father and he’s dead. They are both dead and I live.

I live and Dad would say it’s not fair. He’s dead.

A familiar hand nudges me forward, I walk automatically without hearing the voices. Something about…

He’s dead.

The car door opens and I sit inside, automatically putting the seat belt on. Someone says something and the door closes, voices say something outside, and then doors open and close. The car moves forward, the sirens get further away. Eyes look at me and I look at him.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

His body floats away as it burns like a Viking. He hugs me closer to him and we do not cry. We are free sometimes.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

He said it won't stop and there’s a bang.

133 notes · View notes

sarah-bear706318 · 1 month ago

Text

So I wanna start writing requests so go ahead and send them:) I'm still new to writing so I'll do my best! Send as many requests as you want with as much detail as you want don't be shy!

I'm still getting my footing with writing smut so if you request it, it might not be the best so I apologize in advance. But I found I am pretty good at implied smut or after smut.

I found I really enjoy writing and want people to challenge me! Everything will be female reader since I am female that's what I relate to know!

Just Click on "Talk To Me Goose" or just send them to my inbox either way is fine!

Who I write for is under the cut!

Celebrities: ♡Glen Powell ♡David Corenswet ♡Miles Teller ♡Jensen Ackles ♡Tom Cruise ♡Sam Claflin ♡Josh Hutcherson ♡Joe Burrow ♡Daniel Gillies ♡Patrick Wilson ♡Bill Skarsgård

Movies&Characters: ♡Twisters-♥︎Tyler Owens ♥︎Scott Miller ♥︎Javi Rivera ♡Top Gun Maverick- ♥︎Jake "Hangman" Seresin ♥︎Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw ♥︎Pete "Maverick" Mitchell(both 86 and 22) ♥︎Tom "Iceman" Kazansky ♡Hunger Games- ♥︎Finnick Odair ♥︎Peeta Mellark ♡Harry Potter-♥︎Draco Malfoy ♥︎George Wesley ♥︎Severus Snape ♡Footloose- ♥︎Willard Hewitt ♡Twilight- ♥︎Carlisle Cullen ♥︎Charlie Swan ♥︎Paul Lahote ♥︎Sam Uley

T.V Series: ♡Sons of Anarchy- ♥︎Chibs Telford ♥︎Happy Lowman ♥︎Juice Ortiz ♥︎Jax Teller ♥︎Opie Winston ♥︎Tig Trager Supernatural- ♥︎Dean Winchester ♥︎Sam Winchester ♡TVD/The Originals- ♥︎Elijah Mikaelson ♥︎Klaus Mikaelson ♥︎Stefan Salvatore ♥︎Damon Salvatore ♡Yellowstone- ♥︎Kayce Dutton ♥︎Rip Wheeler ♡Stanger Things- ♥︎Eddie Munson ♥︎Steve Harrington ♡9-1-1 ♥︎Evan Buckley ♥︎Eddie Diaz ♥︎Bobby Nash

WWE: ♥︎Damian Priest ♥︎Cody Rhodes ♥︎Roman Reigns ♥︎Randy Orton

I'm open to writing for other People/Fandoms just let me know who and what movie/show and I'll let you know if I'm familiar.

And all stories will have some kind of moodboard! Or if you just want a moodboard I can do that too!

I'll write anything just about but: incest, suicide, sex trafficking, rape, abuse of children of any kind, anything that slams religion of any kind(i have my religion others have theirs and i will not disrespect any of them), politics(I stay out of them we all have our own opinions and I leave it at that)

I write swear words pretty much all of them but won't use "God D**n" or anything of the nature. I'm not pushing anything on anyone but I don't say them in my real life I won't write it.

14 notes · View notes

wildwestdean · 6 months ago

Text

impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park.

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you.

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait.

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.”

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach.

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together.

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like.

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.”

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.”

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets.

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be.

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo.

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun.

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.”

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.”

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building.

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock.

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?”

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.”

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold.

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you.

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?”

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.”

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.”

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance.

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs.

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker.

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed.

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs.

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall.

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way.

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles.

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you.

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere.

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun.

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!”

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision.

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you.

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!”

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her.

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.”

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent.

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on.

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.”

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up.

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood.

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him.

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.”

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down.

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand.

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?”

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.”

“What?” Dean asked gruffly.

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?”

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.”

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?”

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently.

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket.

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress.

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks.

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you.

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat.

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously.

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?”

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink.

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker.

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand.

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall.

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say.

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?”

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion.

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.”

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.”

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink.

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam.

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically.

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer.

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean.

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away.

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table.

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.”

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth.

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you.

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter.

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar.

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly.

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away.

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you.

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head.

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded.

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?”

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car.

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you.

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats.

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?”

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?”

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff.

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.”

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!”

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.”

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets.

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance.

“What, why?” you asked in confusion.

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.”

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off.

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned.

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.”

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy.

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders.

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done.

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom.

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand.

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran.

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you.

He couldn’t save you.

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart.

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him.

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind.

“Dean.”

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came.

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above.

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut.

“God dammit, Dean!”

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer.

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt.

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.”

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice.

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him.

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out.

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current.

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.”

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order.

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone.

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name.

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere.

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order.

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink.

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him.

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake.

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang.

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.”

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?”

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle.

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?”

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.”

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice.

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not.

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself.

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration.

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.”

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation.

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.”

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?”

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!”

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly.

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed.

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief.

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?”

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!”

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.”

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?”

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!”

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?”

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.”

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!”

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?”

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?”

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff.

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-”

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?”

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!”

“Right,” Sam said sceptically. “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised.

“What?”

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared.

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively.

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.”

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.”

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued.

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.”

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on.

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin.

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction.

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen.

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully.

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge.

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen.

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway.

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly.

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child.

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do.

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything.

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.”

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!”

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him.

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion.

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife.

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?”

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?”

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes.

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily.

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call.

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more.

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered. So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do.

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.”

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late.

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.”

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?”

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.”

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.”

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation.

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.”

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner.

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water.

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water.

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself.

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding.

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant.

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.”

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him.

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.”

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered.

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.”

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you.

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly.

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.”

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again.

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.”

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest.

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him.

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.”

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?”

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.”

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.”

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door.

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out.

“It’s not gonna kill me!”

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?”

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.”

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign.

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.”

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!”

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.”

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.”

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.”

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You know what,” you scolded.

“This is so fucking ridiculous.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly.

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.”

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him.

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.”

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head.

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.”

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed.

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully.

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.”

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.”

“I do,” you agreed quietly.

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.”

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?”

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.”

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly.

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].”

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly.

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle.

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently.

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.”

“Right,” you agreed.

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly.

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.”

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously.

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.”

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off.

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.”

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say.

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.”

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest.

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.”

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while.

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.”

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build.

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.”

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.”

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question.

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat.

“Okay,” he said with a huff.

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly.

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you.

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened.

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked.

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.”

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more.

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair.

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.”

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly.

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?”

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.”

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?”

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” you said honestly.

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed.

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly.

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more.

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things.

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest.

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares.

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest.

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

5K notes · View notes

nuemanfilms · 1 month ago

Text

S.W MASTERLIST || BY RORO <3

— all of these belong to NuemanFilms (me), do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or claim as your own to any other platform! Reblogs, comments, suggestions and interactions are appreciated. These contain all of my works for Sam Winchester (Supernatural - 2005-2020) ♡

Drabbles ★ —

Sam punishing fem!reader for interrupting his research [nsfw]

Soulless!Sam x Bbf!Fem!Reader after Dean and Castiel leave the motel for a case [nsfw]

Sub!Sam x Dom!Fem!reader w/ thigh humping, praise, etc. [nsfw]

Somno w/Sam and fem!reader [nsfw]

Soulless!Sam and his insnae degrading kink [nsfw and fem!reader]

Size kink and breeding kink req! Fem!reader. [nsfw]

M!masturbation w/Sam. Mentions of Fem!reader. [nsfw]

Sub!Sam w/pillow riding. Fem!Reader [nsfw]

Sam teasing w/breeding Fem!Reader. [nsfw]

Based on 4.09, fem!reader [nsfw]

Your first handjob w/Sam. Fem!reader. [nsfw]

Unprotected for the first time w/Fem!reader [nsfw]

Semi-public sex w/Fem!reader [nsfw]

Mommy kink (Sub!Sam) w/Fem!reader [nsfw]

Fem!reader first handjob w/ sam’s size [nsfw]

Priest!Sam w/oral & Fem!reader [nsfw]

Whiny!Sub!Sam w/ Fem!reader [nsfw]

Sub!Sam coming home after a hunt all needy w/Fem!reader [nsfw]

Desperate sex w/Fem!reader [nsfw]

Riding Sam w/fem!reader [nsfw]

Helping Sam finish after catching him w/fem!reader [nsfw]

sam and fem!reader having sex with dean in the same room [nsfw]

Overstimulation w/oral and Fem!reader [nsfw]

virgin!innocent!fem losing her oral virginity to sam [nsfw]

bimbo!reader w/riding [nsfw]

stanford!pervy!sam with fem!readers panties [nsfw]

dry orgasm w/sam [nsfw]

somno [nsfw]

Oneshots/Lengthy drabbles ★ —

Puppy Play w/Fem!reader [nsfw]

Needy!Sam, where Fem!reader makes him show her how he gets off without her there [nsfw]

s4!sam and fem!reader w/ cheating on dean, etc. [nsfw]

Sub!Sam and cockdrunk!fem!reader W/oral [nsfw]

Based on 3.10 with a twist w/Fem!reader [nsfw]

Age gap/brother’s friend & fem!reader [nsfw]

when Sam and Dean are stumped on a case, Dean dials your number for help despite knowing how things ended between you and Sam. Atleast you both didn’t have any hard feelings w/fem!reader [nsfw]

Sub!Sam where Fem!reader teases him for humping her leg to get off [nsfw]

You and Sam don’t exactly have a balanced sex life due to your hunting lives, but you can make arrangements w/fem!reader [nsfw]

Demon!Fem!reader taunts Sam to the point where they can’t resist eachother anymore [nsfw]

Sam & Dean seem to have a girl who just can’t get enough of them both w/fem!reader [nsfw]

Dean and his teasing about Sam and Bimbo!Fem!reader’s constant sex drive proves itself to be right. Win for the older Winchester. [nsfw]

Soulless!Sam has been eying fem!reader for a while, his advances haven’t gone unnoticed. You finally can’t help it anymore after you believe he’ll be out for the night on a case with Dean. [nsfw]

Unresolved tension that Sam and Fem!Reader are constantly teased for by the older Winchester finally gets resolved when Sam manages to have a wet dream while sharing a bed with her. [nsfw]

He’s never felt like this, he’s never been on this rush before. But now that he is, he can’t stop. He’s never been so high on lust before, and now that you’re right in front of him, how can he resist? w/fem!reader [nsfw]

Fem!reader loses her virginity to cowboy!Sam (cowboy!au) [nsfw]

Fem!reader lets Sam fuck her throat (pwp) [nsfw]

demon!fem!reader using sam for her own pleasure [nsfw + req.]

Sam Wesson x fem!reader, everything feels so familiar. [nsfw]

harvelle!reader, a little push is what Sam needs. [nsfw]

teen!sam wants more. [nsfw]

You weren’t his, but it didn’t stop him, did it? [nsfw]

stanford!sam, he’s tense and needs a distraction [nsfw]

movie night (req) [nsfw]

sex pollen w/ virgin!reader [nsfw]

Headcanons ★ —

Life with Sam as your bf (could be read as gn!reader) [sfw]

Angel!reader x Sam (could be read as gn!reader) [sfw]

#★ S.W MASTERLIST by NuemanFilms 2024 #sam winchester smut #supernatural #fem!reader #sam winchester #jared padalecki #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester drabble #upcoming works by roro 𐙚

360 notes · View notes

bunnysbrainrot · 10 months ago

Text

Sinners - Teaser

Relationship: Sam Winchester x Reader

Content: Explicit sexual content, teasing, more kinks and details to come with the full version, nothing too warning-worthy right now?

Summary: Disguised as a priest and nun on a case, time alone with Sam back at your motel is everything but holy. The taboo of your situation has Sam dealing with some… impure thoughts. Will Sam be able to contain himself?

In the past few weeks you and the Winchesters uncovered some suspicious deaths in a remote area of Georgia. The locations of the tragedies spanned over 50 miles apart, meaning that the team had to split up to cover more ground. Dean had split from you and Sam two days ago, and the night before in the motel had been fairly normal. It seemed like Dean did this on purpose; you had drunkenly admitted to him of your affection for his younger brother.

Whether or not Sam knew of this, you had no clue. And now in your nun getup, it was all too fitting that you began to pray that Sam was unaware. The two of you calmly made your way past the yellow police tape, preparing warm smiles for a victim’s family.

Sam knocked on the door, letting out a bated breath. Weren’t nuns supposed to dress modestly? Your outfit was the proper attire, but the way it hugged your curves left too much to Sam’s imagination. It was his turn to pray that it didn’t stir too much in him, to let him keep his composure.

An older man answered the door, his expression easing at the sight of your attire. Turns out this costume was better received than you thought. You had to channel your tone and proper verbiage before speaking.

“Apologies for showing up unannounced, Mr. Peters. I’m Father Jeremy, and this is our sister from a local church.” Sam waved a hand for you to introduce yourself.

You chose to use your name, seeing that this was your first nun-appearance.

“We’re here on behalf of the church to offer support for your family, but we also have a couple of questions, if you don’t mind.”

Hopefully there were no questions about the nearest Catholic church, otherwise this whole façade would crumble. Mr. Peters’ face only softened further.

“I’m glad you’re here, Father, Sister,” he addressed you with a sad smile, “Please, come in.”

Sam stepped in first, using a beckoning finger behind him to have you follow him. The house was modest, but eloquently decorated. You recalled the murder that had happened, that brought you to this town, and shuddered. Mr. Peters’ daughter had been brutally murdered and discarded in a creek, signs indicating the presence of a vampire. Their daughter had been missing for two weeks before the time of death, which is what you and Sam aimed to discover.

“Mr. Peters, we are part of a youth outreach program at the church. Our aim is to help troubled youth, with restorative services and social connection. We were wondering if your daughter had any odd behaviors before she went missing. Perhaps she became more secluded?”

The man looked confused at first, “Odd behavior?”

Sam gave a small nod, “We notice that teenagers in need of help oftentimes become more distant with their families. Our goal is to provide better services to our youth, which does include finding the source issue.”

Mr. Peters have a small background of his daughter, admitting that she had become distant with the family. Not just that, but her anger had only worsened, amongst several harmful habits. It wasn’t uncommon for teens to become immersed in the occult and all things dark, but being surrounded by the wrong people can lead to harmful connections.

“I see,” Sam started, “and do you know what kind of people she was surrounding herself with?”

Another confused look from Mr. Peters.

You added, “This way, we’re able to identify warning signs - things to be wary of as our youth members meet new people.”

This seemed to clear things up, bringing out a detailed recount of his daughter’s recent social group. But, their social media had been recently deleted, preventing the family from getting their closure. As far as they knew, their daughter had made new friends, ran from home, and was found brutally murdered.

Sam’s eyes darted to you when you shifted in your seat, the fabric of your black dress sliding gracefully along your thighs. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but seeing you dressed up like this sent his mind spinning. The last thing he should be thinking of is taking you dressed like this, but he couldn’t shake it. His mind raced of scenarios the two of you could create, each one dirtier than the last.

But right now, the task at hand was covering the tightness of his pants. He leaned forward, the broad muscles of his arms flexing beneath his black shirt. Blush creeped onto your cheeks, much to the attention of Mr. Peters, who looked at you with concern.

“Sister, are you feeling alright?”

You nodded and gave a small wave, “Oh, I’m fine. Just a little warm is all. I apologize.”

Mr. Peters stood, “No need to apologize, let me get you some cold water. I’ll only be one moment.”

The room had gone oddly quiet paired with Sam’s intent stare at your face. You turned to find a concerned Sam inspecting you fully.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked softly.

A slight nod, “Yeah, it’s just stuffy in this outfit.”

“Well, once we’re back at the motel we can get you out of it.”

A beat later Sam realized how that sounded. He tried to backtrack, but Mr. Peters had already returned with your glass of water, which you gratefully sipped on. It took everything in your power to resist the images that came to mind. Sam’s hands roaming your body, stripping that baggy dress off of your body, his mouth finding every nook and cranny of your neck.

Sam seemed to have taken over the conversation for the last few moments before standing. Mr. Peters had already given a short list of his daughter’s friends, and their usual hang-out spots. Your attention snapped back to reality; you placed the water glass down with a small thank you, being pulled up by Sam.

His hand could practically wrap the entirety of your arm, his grip stable and warm. Goosebumps rose on your arms, brushing against the tough fabric of your dress. The air outside carried the comfort of fall, the breeze being cool and refreshing on your hot cheeks.

At the car, Sam reached for your door to open it for you, something completely new to the both of you. You glanced up at him with wide eyes. The movements he made to reach the handle had pulled your bodies dangerously close, fully brush against his chest, pressed into the car. A inexplicable scenario that would raise a few eyebrows, for certain.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want you to trip on your dress,” breathed Sam.

Honestly, he was thankful for the little slip up - being this close to you had been a wish of his, but there had never been any excuse for it to happen. Your focus shifted from his soft, hazel eyes down to his parted lips. Sam’s attention shifted to your lips, lowering to your chest for a split second. A selfish move on his part, but the damage had already been done.

Your hand fumbled for the door handle, fingers sliding over his own. The two of you shared another longing glance before getting you into the car. Sam tucked in loose bits of your dress so the door wouldn’t snag on them.

“Alright, hands and feet it, watch out,” he whispered. You noticed how his hands fumbled more than usual, surely due to the nerves. Perhaps you had been reading this wrong, maybe you had taken things too far? Maybe you had overstepped and embarrassed him?

“Thank you,” you replied, giving him a genuine smile. Sam’s cheeks flushed, unmistakably a sign that maybe your anxieties been just that. Simple anxieties from overthinking this whole thing.

Now settled in the car, the two of you made the trip back to the motel. After stepping inside you beelined for the bathroom.

At least, until Sam’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey, could I talk to you about something?”

You turned to face him, eyebrows raised. You’d be lying to yourself if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat.

“What’s up?”

With the silence in the room, you took the cue to sit on the bed. Sam towered in comparison, his lean physique defined by the lamplight.

His voice softened, “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to get that close, I-“

“Sam, it’s okay,” you cut him off with a laugh, “don’t worry about it. I wasn’t bothered by it.”

He relaxed his shoulders. Sam began to dig through his bag for another set of clothes.

“You look good as a priest, by the way. You sell the bit nicely,” you stated.

What you said made his heart skip a beat. Was that a compliment, or just conversation? Sam couldn’t tell, so he turned to you once more with a goofy grin on his face.

“Thanks,” his expression darkened as his eyes raked you over, “You look good as a nun.”

There was no mistaking it - he was taking his time looking over you. Your breath hitched in your throat when he turned, leaned casually against the desk your bags laid on. You transfixed on the way his hands moved around his belt buckle. Mildly fiddling, but you couldn’t help but imagine him following through.

“Not my best outfit, but thank you,” you replied. Sam pushed away from the desk, slowly stepping toward the bed where you sat, tense with every step.

“I would agree there, you’ve worn better,” he commented.

You head snapped up to meet his eyes. A surprise note of flirtation filled your voice.

“Okay, so what’s my best outfit, then?”

He scoffed, “We playing twenty questions?”

You pointed to your outfits, smirking proudly at him, “Look at our getup, man, it’s like a confessional.”

A bright laugh came out of Sam; he tilted his head back as he thought.

“My answer isn’t exactly… appropriate.”

“Sam,” you laughed, “Confessional. You gotta tell me.”

He let out a groan before lowering his head, steadily giving you his answer, “Your dark jeans, and that long sleeve shirt. The, um… the one with the v-neck, you wore it almost every day over winter.”

“And that was inappropriate?”

“It’s why I like it that’s inappropriate.”

“Okay, then, why do you like it?”

The last thing you expected was for Sam to close the distance. He stepped until he was directly ahead, arms crossed over his chest as he locked eyes with you.

“It made your ass look nice.”

His tone was surprisingly serious, like he had been thinking of this answer for a while.

“Hugs your body in the right ways. And it makes your, well, chest… look nice.”

Sam humored your shocked expression but pushing things further. If you could dish it out, he could dish it back.

“What’s my best outfit?”

As you collected yourself, Sam stepped closer, bringing a hand to your cheek. He lifted your head, his thumb grazing over your cheek.

“It’s a confessional. You have to tell me,” he joked, earning a slight glare from you. That sour face melted away when Sam placed his hand beneath your chin. He tilted your head back to have you look at him.

Shit.

“Jeans,” you breathed, “V-neck black shirt.”

Sam leaned in, brushing his lips across your cheek. The closeness set your skin ablaze, each trailing lip and finger sending shivers up your spine.

“Is that all?” Sam whispered.

His eyes met yours once again, a startling seriousness lurking inside. You pushed past the shyness of your answer. The honesty could break the tension that had building all this time.

“Pajama pants… no shirt. When you just get out of the shower.”

Sam’s lips curled into a satisfied smile before planting a slow kiss to your cheek. He moved gradually to your jawline, sprinkling chaste kisses until his lips hovered over yours.

“Have you wanted this?” he asked.

Your frustration was intangible - a bottle that had been shaken too much, and ready to blow. He was centimeters, millimeters away from giving you what you’d truly wanted. The silence between you signified the utter defiance to give him this so easily.

“Confessional,” Sam’s voice reverberated against you, but he offered nothing to your pleading lips, “tell me, little nun, have you thought about this? Wanted my lips on yours?”

A small whine escaped you as Sam’s hand lowered to your throat, pressing softly to the tender flesh. The loss of blood flow muddled your thoughts into complete ecstasy, with no urgency to regain control. With just one move, it was clear to Sam that you were undoubtedly his.

You gave him a small nod. A low growl thundered in his chest before pressing into you further, laying you flat on the bed. Locks of chestnut hair framed your face, with a breathy Sam hovering his mouth over your neck.

“Nodding doesn’t count. You gotta use your words, sweetheart.”

Amidst the constriction on your throat you nodded and choked out a small, "Yes."

Sam's growing smile is all you need to know you've satisfied something deeper within him. Darkness floods his eyes seeing you like this, utterly at his will under his touch. If he'd known sooner that this would be the outcome, he'd have bought that nun outfit ages ago.

"That's better," he whispered.

------

Hi everyone! I know it's just a teaser for now, but I wanted to show you something I've been working on! I've also been pretty busy with work and writing for my book series, so things have been a bit busy for sure haha

I love you all, and I keep an eye out for the full version of Sinners!

#supernatural #spn fandom #supernatural smut #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #bunny writes #spn smut #smut writing #smut

626 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 1 year ago

Text

Very tight places - Kinktober 3

Summary: You're stuck with a soulless Sam again.

Pairing: Soulless!Sam x fem!Reader

Square 8 filled for @anyfandomgoesbingo: Amnesia

Square 6 filled for @samwinchesterbingo: Dirty Talk

Warnings: soulless!Sam being his asshole self, cheating (kinda), smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mentions of anal sex, creampie, claustrophilia, blasphemie

Rating: Explicit

Kink: Claustrophilia

Words:

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Catch up here: Cramped (1) & Tight places (2)

Six months later you are still hunting with Dean and Sam. You didn’t want to leave the elder Winchester alone with his soulless brother.

Who are you trying to kid? The ugly and embarrassing truth is, that you can’t stay away from Sam for too long.

He’s intoxicating. You’re high on him, and the way he fucks you. If you had an ounce of dignity left, you’d tell the bastard to fuck off. But you are too far gone to care.

Most nights, you let him do unspeakable things to you. Dean stumbled in on you and his brother, calling you sick more than once. He wrinkles his nose anytime Sam gropes you in front of his brother.

Sam has no filter. In any way. When it comes to sex, he doesn’t care if you are in the middle of a case, at a hospital, or buying groceries. Sam wants you, and he gets you.

Anytime. Anywhere.

“Sam, what are we doing here, dressed in the cheapest costumes we could find,” you grumble as Sam decides you must play nun and priest to solve your latest case.

Dean is out and about to find Death. Not to die this time, but to convince Death himself to help him get Sam’s soul back.

Sam is not amused. He wants to stay like this. New and improved. Deadly, focused, and with a sexual appetite making even Dean blush.

“I look ridiculous. They will not believe I’m a nun.” Glancing around the almost empty church you sigh. At least there are not many people around to witness your poor performance.

“Why?” Sam resists the urge to grope your ass. Seeing you in your nun costume got him rock-hard. If not for the case he wants to solve, he’d have you bent over the altar already. “We look just the same as the priest I knocked out to get his clothes.”

“You did what?” you stop in your tracks to gape at Sam. “Please tell me you didn’t knock a priest out, Samuel Winchester. I don’t want to go to hell only because you have no impulse control.”

Sam smirks darkly. “You are so cute when mad,” he dips his head to whisper, “not so cute while you writhe on my fat cock. You’re a whore, not a saint. I know how you like it. Dirty and rough.”

“Sam, can you for once not think about your dick?” You growl. “We still need to find the monster killing the people at the church. Sadly, the only witness still suffers from amnesia.”

“That’s where you come in,” Sam purrs. “I didn’t want you to wear this iconic tunic only for fun. You are the one taking Sister Margaret’s place. You’ll fit in just fine.”

“I don’t want to play the next victim for the monster. Which by the way, you still didn’t identify, Sam. Maybe you shouldn’t have spent the last night at the bar with that blonde,” you snap at the hunter. You don’t give a shit if your blow your cover. Sam won’t get away with treating you like a random bitch he can fuck and leave afterward.

“Y/N, be honest with me,” he chuckles at your angry expression, “are you jealous because you are in love with me?“

“You wish,” you walk away, too angry to be around Sam today. Are you jealous? Of course, you are. Sam and you spent the last months together. Most of the time in the sheets. But last night, he told you to leave and didn’t return until early in the morning.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” Sam mocks you. “I know you love me. You draw hearts and imagine walking down the aisle while I wait for you to give you the ring.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you turn back around to snap at Sam. “I can’t wait for Dean to get your soul back. The moment you have it back, I’m gone. Don’t believe I stuck around for you and your limp dick. I did it for Dean because he’s a good man. Always was.”

“You want my brother?” His features darken, and you can see the change in Sam’s eyes. You take a step back. You know the look in his eyes. It’s the same one you see when he’s about to attack a monster. “Well, too bad. He can’t have you.”

“He can have me if he wants me.” It’s your turn to pay Sam back for all the times you asked yourself if he’s with some other girl. “Just like you had that pretty little thing last night.”

Sam snorts. “She was boring and wanted to go on a date first.” He casually says. As if this excuses his behavior, and how he treated you last night. “Come. I show you something nice.”

“Sam, I’m not in the mood for one of your games. Let’s just solve this case and we can go our separate ways. I stuck around far longer than I intended to.” You huff as Sam once again, ignores your protests. He grabs you by your arm and drags you toward the confession booth.

“Sam! What are you doing?”

“Shush now, I saw someone,” he pushes you inside the booth and closes the door behind him. You gulp. You’re stuck in a tight place with Sam again. “Do you have your gun?”

“What kind of question is that Winchester? I’m not an idiot!”

“Good. Stay in here and wait for me,” he turns around to look at you. Something flashes in his eyes before he turns around to leave the booth. Not without telling you to lock it, though…

You’re gnawing at your nails. Sam left you at the confession booth half an hour ago, and now you don’t know if you left the booth to help him or not.

You press your ear to the door, listening to your breathing. There is not a sound, and you wonder if Sam messed with you and just left the church.

“Open the door,” Sam knocks at the door, “now.”

“Fuck, Winchester,” you curse, but unlock the door to drag Sam inside. He closes it behind him once again and releases an annoyed huff as you check him for injuries.

“You can't wait to put your hands on me again, huh?” Sam turns around to look you up and down. “You know,” he licks his lips. His large hands shoot toward your face to cradle it for a moment, “I think you should confess your sins to me, my dear.”

“I said I’m not in the mood for one of your games,” you pout and cross your arms over your chest. “Why did you leave me in here, all alone? Did you find the monster?”

“I fucked the nuns and gave them a good spanking,” Sam deadpans. “What do you think I did? I kept you safe. The monster wasn’t here. We will find them, though.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“And you are still my whore. My brother can’t have you,” he moves his hand to your throat. “Say it.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish I would,” he chuckles as you claw at the hand holding your throat in a tight grip. “OR maybe I should remind you of your worth. Turn around, lift your tunic, sister. I want to see your cunt.”

“No.”

“Do it or I swear I’ll drag you out of here and fuck you on the altar like I wanted to,” he warns. You know Sam is not joking. If you don’t do as he says, he’ll drag you out and have his way with you on the altar.

He drops his hand from your throat, smirking as you slowly turn around. You shove the black tunic up your body to reveal your ass to him.

“I hate you so much.”

“No panties,” Sam moves his hand between your legs to find you dripping for him. “you’re such a whore for me. I can’t believe I found someone like you.”

You should knee his balls and just leave him there. Instead, you press your hands against the wooden wall and brace yourself for Sam’s massive cock. He’s not a fan of foreplay when he’s like that.

“My whore.” He runs his large hand over your back, down to your ass. “Look at you, ready to have my cock. I think I’ll go for your ass today.”

You suck in a breath. It’s always a struggle to take him up your ass. Especially when he’s impatient.

“Here?”

“Aw, my little cockslut loves having me up her ass, huh?” His pants drop to the ground before you can even choke out a moan. Sam is on you in a blink. One hand moves between your legs to slap your pussy. “Answer me!”

“YES!”

“Louder!”

“I love your cock up my ass,” he slaps your pussylips again, and again until your tender flesh throbs and you soak his hand. “I want to feel it all the time.”

“Beg me,” he slings his arm around your throat. “Y/N, I’m not asking,” Sam growls in your ear. “I want to hear you beg.”

“Please give me your cock, Father Winchester,” he bends your body to his will and rams himself inside of your leaking cunt.

“Fuck,” Sam is not gentle. All he gives you is his free hand between your legs to toy with your clit. He snaps his hips into your ass, making you cry out with every deep thrust. “I love it when cry a little.”

“Ass-hole,” you press your hands hard against the wooden wall. “I hate you so much.”

Sam doesn’t care about your words, or that you soak his cock only a few thrusts later. He batters your cunt, hoping to force another orgasm out of you to make you see that only he can fulfill your desires.

“You make the sweetest noises when I fuck you,” he nips at your earlobe, teeth sinking in your flesh to tug at it. You moan and push back onto him. Sam knows exactly which buttons he must push to get what he wants. “I’m going to fill this cunt up again.”

You hiss his name when your body sizes up. You tremble in his arms and close your eyes as your orgasm washes over you. When he fucks you like this, from behind you can pretend it’s the real Sam, not the broken version of the hunter.

“You’re such a good slut for me, Y/N. I’ll never let you go,” his words a more threat than a promise. His hips begin to stutter. “Open that pussy for me, take my cum…”

You don’t know how you made it out of the church without getting caught. Sam’s cum ran down your thighs as he dragged you out of the place you stained with your sins.

Back at the motel, you try to make him talk to you. Sam sits across you, just staring at you.

“Sam, we still need to find the monster.” You sigh as he ignores you. “SAM! The monster.”

“It was a hoax,” he shrugs and drops his eyes to your legs. “I wanted to fuck you at a church in a confession booth.”

“There is no monster?” Your jaw drops. “You drove to the middle of nowhere, and forced me to wear a nun costume only for sex.”

“Roleplay, kitten. It’s essential to keep my dick hard.” He watches you squirm on the bed. “Be good and spread your legs. Let me see your tainted cunt.”

“Sam…can you just not be so crass all the time?”

“I said,” he gets up from his seat to stand in front of your bed, “spread your legs and show me your well-fucked and cum stained cunt.”

“Fine,” you fall back onto the bed and spread your legs. “Satisfied.”

“Hmm…I don’t know,” he unbuckles his belt with one hand and shoves his pants down his legs. “I think you need more cum in your pussy…”

“Please tell me you got him out,” Dean looks at Death.

“I got his soul, and we should hurry but,” Death looks Dean straight in the eyes, “I must warn you. This soul got ripped apart, and there is not much left of the brother you knew…

Part 4

#sam winchester #anyfandomgoesbingo #samwinchesterbingo #soulless sam #sam winchester smut #soulless!sam #smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #kinktober vs flufftober 2023

463 notes · View notes

wishyouloveme · 3 months ago

Text

Star's Kinkvember list!!

requests are open babies!! This list is not finalized, things can change, send me a request if you'd like to see a certain kink with a certain special someone.

side note: these are for November, cause i wanted to October, but I'm late

TAG TIME: @harmshake @spookybitchdreams @thickbihhwitdagapp @urasunflower @whatdoeseverybodywant @lilucey @jstarr86

reply in the comments if you wanna be added to my taglist

how to request a kinkvember: send in an ask with a day, and a character. REMEMBER, these are only x reader.

Day 1: Oral sex; pairing (Jimmy Uso x reader) Day 2:bondage; pairing (Tama Tonga x reader)

Day 3: Spanking; pairing (Jey Uso x reader)

Day 4: Hair pulling; pairing (Damian Priest x reader)

day 5: Dirty talk; Pairing (Jey Uso x reader)

day 6: Blindfolds; pairing (Tyler Lockwood x reader)

day 7: toys; pairing (Jey uso x reader)

day 8:Lingerie; Pairing (Drew McIntyre x reader)

day 9: breast/ Nipple play; Pairing (Ludwig Kaiser x reader)

day 10:Handcuffs; pairing (Roman reigns x reader)

day 11: Biting; Pairing (Solo Sikoa x reader)

day 12: Discipline; pairing (Baron Corbin x reader)

day 13: Sex in public; pairing (Paul lahote x reader)

day 14:Mutual masturbation; pairing (unknown)

day 15: collar and Lead; pairing (unknown)

day 16:Masturbation;pairing (unknown)

day 17: Candle wax; pairing (Tama tonga x reader)

day 18:Rough sex; pairing (Emmett Cullen x reader)

Day 19: threesome; pairing (Jey Uso x reader x Damian Priest)

Day 20: face fucking; pairing (Rafe Cameron x reader)

Day 21: Domination; pairing (Tonga loa x reader)

Day 22: Vibrators; pairing (tama tonga x reader)

Day 23: Strap on; pairing (Rhea Ripley x reader)

day 24: Voyuerism; pairing (Damian Priest x reader)

Day 25: High heels; pairing (Roman reigns x reader)

Day 26: Cunnilingus; pairing (Tonga Loa x reader) Day 27: Squirting;pairing (Tama tonga x reader)

Day 28: Praising;Pairing (Simon Basset x reader)

day 29:Aftercare;pairing (Tonga Loa x reader)

Day 30: Choking; Pairing (Baron Corbin x reader)

Extra: Choking and mutual masturbation (Montgomery de la Cruz x reader)

Small reminder!!: any that say unknown are open to request, these will be FULL ONESHOTS, not blurbs!!

the characters open for this are:

Wrestling:Jey Uso, Jimmy Uso, Damian Priest, Rhea Ripley, Drew McIntyre, Roman Reigns, Tama Tonga, Solo Sikoa, Andrade, Baron Corbin, Jacob Fatu, Randy Orton, Logan Paul, Ludwig Kaiser, Santos Escobar, and Tonga Loa.

Shameless: Kevin Ball, Mickey Milkovich.

Twilight: Jacob Black, Paul Lahote, Sam Uley, Edward Cullen, Emmett Cullen, Rosalie Cullen.

Outer Banks: Rafe Cameron, JJ Maybank, John B. Routledge, Sarah Cameron, Barry.

Bridgerton: Simon basset, Anthony Bridgerton.

Good Girls:Rio

The walking dead: Daryl Dixon, Glenn Rhee

Supernatural: Dean Winchester, Sam winchester, Castiel, Crowley.

Vampire Diaries: Damon Salvatore, Stefan Salvatore (I'm a Stefan girlie) Tyler Lockwoof.

Fast and Furious: Dominic Toretto, Brion O'connor.

Heartstopper: Nick Nelson.

hamilton: Alexander Hamilton, Aaron Burr, Thomas Jefferson.

Criminal Minds: Aaron hotchner, Derek Morgan. 13 reasons why: Montgomery De La Cruz, Justin Foley, Zach Dempsey, Tony Padilla

Thats all my loves <3. Requests are ALWAYS OPEN. And you can always chat with me. Mwah <3

48 notes · View notes

little-diable · 1 year ago

Text

Sins, desires, longings - Dean Winchester (smut)

A big thank you to @deathofpeaceofmind for inspiring this! This came to us as I shared the lyrics of the song "No Mercy" by Austin Giorgio. This could have a part two? Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean thinks Sam is dead, hence why he tries to rip himself free from his old life, which means leaving (y/n) behind. But as he hides away in a church, slipping into the role of a priest, he keeps committing sins. Or: pwp

Warnings: 18+, piv smut, jerking off, religious connotations, priest!Dean, pretty much pwp

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (1.6k words)

The sound of his boots meeting the ground echoed through the cold church, echoing off the walls like the cries of those burying Jesus had echoed through the afternoon air. With his forest green eyes focused on the altar, Dead dropped to his knees, making a cross sign with two fingers before he clasped his hands together.

His eyes fluttered close, speaking a prayer he had learned a few days ago, trying to swallow down the thoughts welling up in his mind, wanting to drown him like the waves Moses had parted had tried to do. Dean had to focus on the words that left him, rolling off his tongue all too easily.

It was a strange sight, a sight so foreign that those who have once crossed paths with the hunter wouldn’t believe their own eyes. Without opening his eyes, Dean’s hand began to move up his chest, finding the rosary dangling from his neck. Slowly he grasped the pearls, wooden beads that took his mind off the prayer he should focus on.

“Dean.” She whispered his name, eyes rolling back into her head as his tongue found its way to her inner thighs, smirking against her skin. Once again (y/n) called out his name, arching her back off the mattress, giving into the strong feeling. With his tongue pressing against her arousal covered folds, his fingers started moving, circling her pulsing bundle.

“Mhm, tastes so sweet, darling.” The praise made her gasp, unable to bite down her moans. He had her trapped, was still wearing the collar around his neck, was still wearing the rosary dangling from his neck - perfectly taking on the role of a priest.

Another hunt had lured them into this town, forcing the two to act as people they have never wanted to be. And yet the two of them found their joy in tricking those that were too oblivious for their own good.

“Fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Dean, there you are!” John’s voice ripped Dean out of his flashback, having to clear his throat as he tried to forget the memory he had just been forced to live through once again. The elderly priest came to a halt next to Dean’s kneeling frame, waiting for the younger man to rise to his feet. “How are we feeling today? Are you ready for our service?”

“I’m getting there, thank you, John.” Dean had lost count on the days flashing past ever since Sam’s death, days that had a dark touch to them, forcing the older Winchester brother to leave his old life behind, to leave his memories behind, to leave her behind. Her. The woman who owned his heart, the woman he had unleashed his anger upon as he worked through Sam’s death.

Dean had decided to run, had left all his things behind – besides Baby – had decided to join a church he had known for years, begging the priest that knew him better than others to take him in. And now he was here, living a life he had once made fun of, a calm life that focused on prayers, on services, on those in need. But perhaps this life wasn’t as different as the one he had lead weeks ago, set on helping those that needed him.

“It always takes its time, and that is alright, Dean. God is good, he wants to give you time to grieve.” John’s words forced tears to well up in Dean’s green eyes, forced to choke on the knot growing in his throat, unable to reply. His body was trembling, forced into another memory he had tried to bury six feet under.

“Fuck, I love you, I love you so much, sweetheart.” Dean’s pants filled Baby, eyes set on (y/n)‘s pleasure drunken features. He fucked her into the backseat, no longer caring if his tight grasp was leaving marks on the leather fabric. She was everything Dean could focus on, the sweetest temptation known to humankind.

"Never let me go, Dean, promise me.” (Y/n) whispered her words, eyes momentarily focusing on Dean’s wide ones. She saw him swallow, collecting enough air to murmur a soft though clear “I promise”.

“I don’t know John, it feels like I’m clinging to things I can’t let go. I don’t have the strength to.” Dean averted his gaze in shame, fumbling with the fingers that have once searched for her, needing to feel her close. He could still hear the angry words she had spoken, the fight the two had been trapped in, a fight that had given Dean the final push, disappearing in the middle of the night.

He had left behind a note for her to find, a simple “I’m sorry, I will always love you”. Nothing more, nothing less. By now he deeply regretted the way they’ve parted, or at least how he had parted from her, Dean could only hope that she’d be able to make her peace with it, someday at least.

“Time will heal your wounds, Dean. Allow God to guide you, put your trust in him.”

……

Dean’s gasps and moans echoed through his small room, he had his head thrown back against the thin pillow, hand wrapped around his twitching cock. Her name rolled off his tongue, a sound so strong, a sound so emotional, Dean could only hope the others living in the rooms close by won’t hear him.

His hand moved with quick strokes, needing to chase the high he had been aching for for days. It was wrong - at least that’s what he’s been told - he was committing another sin, and yet Dean couldn’t care about the punishment that may eventually follow. In this very moment Dean couldn’t care about crossing paths with the Devil, or at least the one those surrounding him were fearing, he had played this game for too long, he knew what was awaiting him, eventually.

“Dean, look at me.” He was forced to lift his gaze, bloodshot eyes meeting her worried ones. (Y/n) sat down next to him, reaching for the bottle of beer he kept clinging to as if he was scared to lose yet another thing. Dean tried to protest, but he was interrupted by the clicking of her tongue, eyes snapping close once again. “Look at me, please.”

No words left him as he finally looked at her, (y/n), the one who owned his heart, his closest friend, his most trustworthy companion. Slowly she cupped his cheek, thumb running over his skin, tracing the freckles that reminded her of stars covering the night sky, a sight so beautiful she’d always stop to marvel at him.

“What can I do? Anything you want, you need.” His teeth sank into his lower lip, eyes once again fluttering close as he reached for her wrist, pulling her into his lap. (Y/n) didn’t dare speak up, allowing Dean to take what he needed, lips finding hers all too forcefully, leaving her gasping. He tasted of beer, of sadness, of pain. Dean rose to his feet with (y/n) clinging to him, forcing her down on the table, pushing her back.

Her gasps drowned out Dean’s low groans, undoing his belt, freeing his hardening cock. No further warning was spoken as he shuffled her shirt up to her waist, pulling her panties aside. Their eyes met again, a silent question being shared between them, waiting for her consent.

(Y/n) pulled him in for another teeth-clashing kiss, freeing yet another groan bubbling out of them. He parted from her to spit into his hand, lubing his cock up before he pushed into her. Both moaned in unison, set on chasing their highs, set on pushing one another over the edge with no mercy.

Dean ripped his eyes wide open seconds before he came, ripped from the flashback like those that have grieved for Jesus’ death, reliving their last moments with their saviour. Sweat pearled on Dean’s forehead, sweat that rolled down his forehead like the red blood that had once dripped from four nails, forced through skin and wood. He choked on (y/n)’s name, painting his hands and stomach white as he came, lazily pumping his cock a few more times.

“Fuck,” Dean murmured the curse, forcing a few deep breaths into his lungs before he rose to his feet, slowly cleaning himself up. He was heavily breathing, still hung up on the memories that have forced themselves into his brain, flashing before his eyes like lightning striking the dark sky.

His eyes found the wooden rosary placed on his desk, next to the white collar he was now wearing on a daily basis. Dean moved closer, slowly picking up the rosary as his doubts came flooding back through his system. He should have spoken to her, should have explained his every fear to (y/n), but he hadn’t, he had kept his mouth shut – like a scared boy.

The sound of somebody knocking on the wooden door leading to his room forced his green eyes to snap towards the door. He cleared his throat, reaching for a shirt before he walked closer. Slowly Dean pulled the door open, freezing as his eyes fell onto two pairs of all too familiar eyes.

“Sam? (Y/n)?”

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester imagine #Dean Winchester x reader #supernatural smut

248 notes · View notes

shelbgrey · 1 year ago

Note

Hello 👋

If you’re still talking requests, Can I request 16 and 21 for Egon Spengler please ?

Hold on, I love you (Egon spengler)

Paring: Egon spengler x Fem!Reader

Summary: Egon and y/n have never had the guts to admit their feelings in fear of ruining the friendship that's dear to them, but why dose it take an accident during a call for him to tell y/n he loves her.

A/n: jeez, I write one original flash-fic in my creative writing class and I re-enter my Angst era. This is lossly based off one of my assignments in creative writing. And this is way longer than I anticipated, I just sorta blacked out and had this, the beginning sucks but it gets better, I promise.

Prompts:

1.6) “I need to know if it's possible that two people can stay happy together forever.” - “in my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are”

2.1) “i love you in every universe”

MasterList

Egon was a man of little words most of the time, it never bothered him or his friends. That was until y/n showed up, she was the younger cousin of Peter Venkman. Unlike her older cousin she was very soft spoken, happy, and the kindest person any of the Ghostbusters ever met. She also knew a butt load of supernatural stuff so there was no question about it when she joined the team.

When she joined she was immediately welcomed with open arms and it was as if she was there from the very beginning, she soon found a best friend in Ray and Winston.

What the team would have never anticipated was the life that she awoke in Egon, the two bonded over science and snacks and soon the two were glued to the hip. Peter had a hay day with that. Egon just seemed more happier and less robotic when she was around. Then it seemed everyone knew they liked each other except the two of them.

They would sneak loving glances at one another and Peter or Winston would always catch them. Then it just became something the team had to ride through, the bet they all set wasn't even fun anymore.

Fast forward to today, it's a normal day at the firehouse. Of course the day starts off with the gentle smiles and glances between y/n and Egon or as Peter puts it 'their mind numbing mating ritual.

Anyway, what the team called normal was not even getting through breakfast before they were called in a case. The call wasn't totally unusual but after y/n did her usual 'Sam Winchester' research hour they anticipated the poltergeist isn't like anything they dealt with before, sure poltergeists weren't unusual but this one might be more powerful and be classified as a vengeful spirit.

The call was from a real estate company. They were trying to sell an old mansion just outside of New York but when they went to clean and remodel they ran into the poltergeist. They were apparently threatened with a lawsuit if they didn't get rid of the ghost.

~~~~~~~~(1st pov)~~~~~~~~

“this poltergeist is a lot more powerful than what we dealt with before so be careful everyone…” Egon said climbing out of Ecto-1, Peter clapped his hands together and rubbed them together like a villain would in a poorly made cartoon. “ooh, I like them feisty”

I rolled my eyes as I let a chuckle slip past my lips “and please for the love of God don't tease the ghost” I said unloading my protonpack.

Peter slapped his hand over his heart, acting offended. “Miss. L/n, how dare you accuse me of such accusations… I Do not do that”

“oh yeah, remember what happened last call?” Winston said.

“yeah, like when you said you were gonna pretend to be a priest” I said with my fist on my hip.

“and quoted the exorcist a dozen times” Ray added.

“not my fault Casper didn't want to talk about JC”

Peter walked in front of us and stared down the dark hallway “don't piss the ghost off too much pete” I mumbled as I scanned the area with my EMF meter.

Peter gave me a cheeky grin and turned to the back of the dark room. “Oh, boy!” he hollered. “I'm sooo lost, I hope there isn't some ancient supernatural poltergeist that could possibly gobble my sexy body here”

“really?” Winston asked with a crooked eyebrow.

“it amazes me you have a wife” I added with a chuckle as Egon strung some kinda trip wire, It would act similar to a salt circle.

The dark Hallway rumbled and hissed. Peter smirked again. “Come on Honey, don't be shy!” The pitch black hallway rumbled and shook as the poltergeist charged forward, it stood ten feet tall and had a black hooded-roab that covered its unnatural form. It also had four red eyes and sharp claws. When is snarled you cold see dozens of sharp teeth covered in saliva and blood.

The poltergeist tried to charge at Peter with its claws but it was whipped back due to the proton-line Egon set up. Peter snorted and covered his laugh with his hand as the poltergeist floated around angry.

“Change of plans honey, you ain't snakin' on me” Peter joked then looked over his shoulder at us. “I'm just too handsome to be eaten”

Before he could turn back around the poltergeist coughed up a chunk of slime, Peter quickly dodged it, preventing days of scrubbing slime out of his hair. “ha, not today sucker!”

Peter started laughing, the rest of us just rolled our eyes and turned on the protonpack. “stay behind us,” Egon said to me. I rolled my eyes, I knew he was just trying to protect me(along with the rest of the boys) but it got annoying sometimes.

“Peter, just release the line,” Winston said, pointing his gun towards the poltergeist.

Peter nodded as his laughter died down. “Okay, okay, look alive soldiers!”

Peter and Winston quickly got their proton streams knotted around the poltergeist with a perfect ame. The poltergeist shrieked and yelled as it lunged at Ray, baring its bloody teeth. Ray quickly dodges the hit, as he falls on his back he turns the gun to full power.

Peter started singing 'why can't we be friends' under his breath while he leaned back, trying to control the poltergeist's movement. “Almost got it” Winston added with a grunt as he and Egon shielded the way that led to my direction, I quickly turned mine. Now all five streams were tangled on the poltergeist.

“N/n, get the trap!” Winston shouted, I turned my gun off and went after it. I got it and sat on the ground before sliding it on the ground to the boys.

Just seconds later the poltergeist breaks free from the stream and rushes towards Ray and Peter, they both immediately ducked, making the poltergeist miss them. Ray jumped back to his feet and pulled out one of the hand held proton guns and shot the poltergeist as it charged towards my direction.

The poltergeist shrieks and flies around like the Tasmanian devil. It pushes through the pain and lunges out of the stream before charging at me, claws bared. I pulled out the same gun Ray used, before I could pull the trigger the poltergeist’s huge claws slash down missing me just by a hair after I quickly dodged it. The poltergeist swang again and this time it left four brutal gashes from my right breast down to my stomach, these scratches were deep and painful, it made me gag. I felt the blood leak out at a thicker pace, the nauseating pain shouts through my entire anatomy. The sight of four diagonal gashes on my jumpsuit nearly knocks me over in a fit of panic.

“y/n!” I heard Egon shout, I coughed due to the taste of blood and felt my knees buckle. Before I could hit the broken tile floor Egon caught me.

“OVER HERE YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Peter shouted, the poltergeist wiped around with a hiss and charged towards Peter and Winston, claws out.

—(3rd pov)---

“Egon” she coughed, she desperately tried to swallow and clear the irony taste of blood on her tongue. Egon felt her gentle hands weakly cling to him as he sank to the ground, he fell to his knees and held her in his lap. Egon felt his throat constrict, every organ in his stomach twist and turned, he was unable to breathe as he stared at her battered body.

“she's loosing too much blood, control the bleeding” his mind races. There's so much blood and she's dying, no he couldn't think like that.

The poltergeist turns its attention to Peter in the distance, as Egon puts pressure on her cuts. His panic only ensues as the blood wouldn't let up, his freezes as she locks eyes with him.

“Egon…” she reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, it limply slid down smearing a red hand print on his cheek.

“Shh… Just stay with me, please” he said, stumbling over his words as he ripped the fabric of your pants leg to keep the blood from flowing out of the wounds.

The blood kept flowing and this time he didn't know what to do, he was now absolutely immobilized with fear.

“Ray!” Egon shouts. “Ray, help me!” Ray whips around, his eyes widened as he sees his best friend bleeding out in Egon's arms. Ray sprints over to them and drops to his knees. “Oh God, y-you're gonna be okay N/n, okay” He said placing his hand on her cheek then quickly grabbing the first-aid kit that was strapped to his proton pack, they added it years ago after Peter almost got castrated by class IV spirit.

Ray quickly tears open a package of gause with his teeth and places it over her chest. “Okay, I'm gonna lift her up and you need to wrap her. '' Ray looked up and saw Egon trembling and not moving, Ray pushed his shoulder while he fought his own tears. “Egon! She needs you right now”

Egon quickly shook his head and fumbled with the med-tape, Ray gently lifted her torso up while her arms limply held on to his neck. Egon tries desperately to concentrate enough as he wraps med-tape around her torso tightly.

Ray looked up, shaking his head desperately. “W-we need to call 911, this isn't gonna help her”

“Hey, Darling, I need you to stay with us. Stay with me,” His voice quivers with fear as he tightens the wrap on her chest, after he was done Ray gently layed her back in Egon's lap. “You’re gonna be alright. Just keep breathing.”

The three are drenched in her blood, Egon looks down and gulps when he sees that his hands are nothing but pure red from her blood. Everything Is drenched in her blood, Ray's jumpsuit, Egon's entire body, everything was just red.

In the distance, Peter and Winston are fighting the poltergeist. Winston stepped back and whipped the stream back to try and weaken the ghost, for a split second Winston wondered where the rest of his team was. He made the mistake and looked back.

“Y/N!” he shouted in anguish. Just out of instinct and pure love for the girl he dropped the stream and ran to her.

“oh my god” he placed his hand over his mouth when he saw all the blood. His stomach couldn't take it and he turned away and vomited out everything he had in his stomach.

“Winston, get on the radio and call for an ambulance” Ray said in a shaky voice, Winston wiped his mouth and ran out to Ecto-1. You could hear his voice from the distance and as he barked orders with a shaky voice. He came running back into the building seconds later.

“we got about 30 minutes give or take” Winston said as his nausea came bubbling back at the sight over drenched in red and unresponsive.

“GOD DAMMIT! WHERE ARE IDIOTS DOING!” Peter shouted over the proton stream and the screams of the poltergeist, he was totally unaware of the bloodbath the woman he considered a sister was setting in.

The screams of the poltergeist only got louder but Peter had no problem shouting over them in anger. “WINSTON! QUIT JERKING OFF AND GET OVER HERE!”

Winston did snap out of it and the nausea was replaced by pure rage. “this just got personal you bastard” he was at Peter's side in seconds turning his proton pack back on.

Peter tosses the trap under the area the poltergeist was floating and jerking around.

Their streams knotted around the thrashing ghost, struggling to contain it as Peter avoids looking in there direction, deep down he knew something was wrong but he was too pissed because he was ditched.

“Egon! Guys! Snap out of it, bud! I really need your help here!” Peter and Winston were both drenched in sweat and slime as they started to lose their balance.

“YOU GO STRAIGHT BACK TO HELL YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Winston yelled as his boots started sliding across the concrete.

“Damit! Hang on Winny” Peter said, pulling his arms back but the poltergeist jumped back, pulling harder.

“Goddamnit! Spengler! Ray! get off your asses and help!” Peter shouted, he was still oblivious to what was going on in the distance.

Egon's watery eyes darted up and stared at Peter and Winston. Egon stayed completely still, eyes wide and fearful as his big brain refused to process what Peter was saying.

As Winston ramps up his stream to full power light cast over everything, Peter looked over his shoulder about to yell at Egon and Ray but his words got caught in his throat when the light of the proton stream shined on Egon and Y/n.

“You gotta be shitting me” Peter grunts and slams his foot on the trigger pedal, then yanks the weakened ghost towards the glowing trap. The poltergeist shrieks in pain as it's sucked in and the ghost disappears.

The trap shuts and Winston drops his gun immediately, he runs back to Egon, Ray, and y/n. “Oh God, honey” he whispered as he took her limp hand.

Winston tried to take her into his arms but Egon just shot him a treating look and held her tighter. Peter was still trying to catch his breath, he was dubbed over with his hands on his knees. He breathed in and out until his lungs were ready for him to function correctly, he set up straight and looked towards his team.

He felt nothing but fear and anger when he saw her. His jaw clenched. “DAMIT” He shouts and kicks the trap across the asphalt. It clatters along the ground and crashes into the brick wall, he's lucky it didn't shatter everywhere.

Tears pricked his eyes as he got down on one knee next to Egon, like Winston he reached for the girl. Egon flinched back and held her closer still trying to stop the bleeding. Damn… She's lost so much.

“You touch her, I'll kill you” he said with tears streaming down his face. “this is all my fault” he sobbed into her hair.

For a moment Peter stood there shocked, he's never seen the doctor cry. Hell he's never seen Egon show any type of emotion until y/n showed up into their lives.

Egon only cried harder when the sounds of sirens was heard and ambulance lights flashed through the broken windows.

“We got you Honey” Winston whispered as he, and the other three boys gently lifted her up and met the paramedics outside.

The paramedics drove off seconds later driving like a bat out of hell trying to get to the hospital. When the sirens died down Peter felt his anger bubble over like an over filled boiling pot, hot and aggressive. He turns to

He then turns to Egon and seizes Egon by the lapels of his jumpsuit. Despite the Height difference, Peter was able to harshly slam the taller man into the side of the mansion. Egon winced in pain when his back hit the brick wall. Sure it hurt, but it wasn't as painful as it was to see y/n covered in blood. “What the fuck is your problem?! Huh?! Do you want her to die! Is that what you want!” Peter shouted as he jerked Egon forward and slammed him into the wall again, his glass fell lose hanging down on tip of his nose.

“Peter” Ray croaked out, he was ignored while Peter let out all his anger.

“You love her huh?! Could have fooled me. You just let that damn thing destroy her insides!” he threw a punch this time, Egon fell to the ground as Winston and Ray pulled them away from each other. Egon sinks to the ground. His throat constricts, he's unable to breathe as tonight events flashed in his mind on repeat.

“It's no one's fault!” Ray shouted as he placed his hand on Peter's chest and pushed him backwards. “Tonight was an accident! A terrible, terrible accident!”

“Do you think she would have wanted us to tear each other apart over her?” Winston asked, kneeling down to help Egon up. “I could have happened to any of us”

Peter clenched his fist. “but it's not supposed to happen to her! Our job is not only to get rid of the ghost but to keep her safe too!”

Tears spill down Peter’s face as his rage melts into pure sorrow and he falls to his knees next to Ray. Peter screws his eyes shut as he busts into uncontrollable sobs, Ray put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

After the team got done grieving and losing their shit, they loaded Ecto-1 up. Egon was silently sitting on the curb, back to his usual unemotional self. It killed Ray to see him so blank again, but then again he could see every ounce of pain that Egon was feeling.

Ray came up to egon and smiled softly. “I got a call from one of the nurses, y/n is still in surgery but they have high hopes she'll pull through… she had a blood transfusion too”

Egon didn't say anything, only slightly nodded and picked at the fabric of his jumpsuit. Ray sighed and rubbed his shoulder. “let's get cleaned up and we'll go see her”

Egon didn't move, Ray sighed and tugged him up. “come on buddy”

As Ray lifed egon up a pair of head lights appeared, it was Dana. Ray smiled at her softly as she got out of the car quietly, Oscar was fast asleep on his car seat.

“oh no” she whispered. Ray didn't say anything and told her to take Peter back to their apartment.

Dana silently and gently got Peter in the back seat of her car, he immediately gave Oscar and gentle hug and kiss his forehead. Dana shut the door and pulled Ray and Egon into a tight hug, not caring they were covered in blood and filth.

“get home safe and keep me updated with Y/n” she whispered and kissed Egon on the cheek. She got in the car and took her boys home. Winston sighed and walked over to be with his friends. “everything is loaded up”

Ray sighed and rubbed his forehead, it's been and long night and he never wants to live anything similar to this in the future at any given moment. He gripped Egon's shoulder and the three piled into Ecto-1 without another word, Winston drove since he was the only one who felt 'okay' to drive at the moment.

~at the Firehouse~

When the boys got home they silently put their equipment away and separated, Winston grabed his car keys and started his journey to the hospital while Egon and Ray went upstairs to clean up.

As Egon walked through the pitch black bedroom he couldn't help but brush his fingers over the bed she slept in, it was the nicest in the room, draped in soft blankets and fluffy pillows. It was always made nice and had a panda bear plushie Ray gave her long ago.

Egon let out a tired sigh and continued his journey to the shower room, since their home was an old fire house there was dozen shower heads in the room and they all had privacy cubicles and harsh forlecent lights.

Egon looked down at studyed his curnt state, covered in the blood of the woman he loves, he continues to question himself why he didn't just tell her when he had the chance. Egon agressevelly tries to break free of confines of the jumpsuit, it felt too constricting now. He ripped it off, breaking the zipper in the process.

Egon slames the ruby stained clothing to the bottom of the trash can, jumpsuit and all, and turns on the shower to it's hottest Temperature. After taking off his bent up glasses, he steps in and watches the first layer her blood run off of his body and fall down the drain. He opens his eyes and staired at his hands, the blood was still there. His chest heaves in panic as he scrubbed his hands raw. They were a hint of pink from the blood and so was his chest, he couldn't get the blood off. Dispite the scolding water a shiver went down his spine as he slumped against the cubicle wall.

“the blood…” he croaked out to Ray after he got out of the shower, he stood in front of Ray holding his shaky hands out infront of him. Ray looked up and saw his pink hands and since egon only put a pair of pajama pants on he saw his chest was stained with blood as well. “it won't come off Ray”

Ray didn't know what to say, he stood up and gave him a hug. “you should get some rest” he whispered, Egon flinched out of his arms and looked at Ray like he had three heads. “We're supposed go to the hospital”

Ray took a deep breath. “Egon your exhausted, scared… I promise we'll go in the morning, Winston is in the hospital waiting room as we speak”

Egon didn't protest so Ray went to take his turn in the shower. “I need to know if it's possible that two people can stay happy together forever.” Egon said softly.

Ray turned around and shrugged, he gave him a serious look and said, “in my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are”

Egon nodded soulfully, “I just wish I had the brain capacity to tell her I loved her”

“It's not about brain capacity, but if you ask me y/n loves you for who you are” Ray said as he left to take his shower Egon's eyes trailed back to y/n's bed. The warmth of it and hint of her perfume beckoned him over. He silently crawled under her soft blankets and holds her stuffed bear to his chest. He buried his face into it and let the tears fall freely when her sent fully engolfed him.

He felt so exhausted but couldn't bring himself to go to sleep. Instead, he stares blankly at her night stand. It was small and neatly cluttered, it had small desk lamp she painted flowers on it and copy of The Outsiders and To kill a mockingbird. Next to the novels was a small picture frame that held a photo with all five of them. In the photo they were all standing infront of Ecto-1, y/n was setting on the hood while Ray and Egon set on either side of her. She hand her arms around the both of them while Peter stood next to Ray holding up devil horns and Winston stood next to Egon with his big goofy smile. Those boys ment everything to her.

Even with all the joyful things on her desk he could be looking at, his eyes just stared at the red telaphone was was in the open nightstand drawer, he waited for a call.. A call from anyone to tell him she was okay. He didn't know when he fell asleep, but when his eyes closed they didn't opened back up. When Ray got out of the shower(blood stained like Egon) Egon was fast asleep.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

It was barely 6 o'clock in the morning when Egon woke Ray up so they could go to the hospital. Sun was barely up when Ecto-1 drove down the partly empty street, the city wasn't even awake yet. The car was completely silent, the only sounds was Ray's loud yawns as he silently drove down the street.

Egon just wanted to see you, the hospital probably wasn't even opened yet but that didn't matter. By the time the hospital comes into view, the sky was a mixture of purples and orange as the sun slowly peaked from behind the tall buildings of new York.

The two men were completely ignored when the walked into the hospital, the nurse who was at the front desk let them pass by as she fought to stay awake during her shift. The two men went into the waiting room and saw Winston and Peter fast asleep, they were both in the uncomfortable chairs snoring away. Winston had his arms crossed over his chest and his legs were propped up on the tiny coffee table, Peter had his head tilted back and was using his coat as a blanket.

“I'm gonna find y/n's room” Egon said bluntly and left Ray with the snoring men, Ray sighed and just slumped on the couch that felt like it was made of bricks and plastic, it didn't matter how uncomfortable it was because he was out like a light again.

Egon walked down the quiet hallway, it was deserted and there was no night shifters in sight to kick him out. He didn't relize how nervous he was until his hands touched the door knob of her room, his fingers flinched away as he feared the worst. He didn't want to see her all battered up with wires sticking out of her, he only hope she was just resting peaceful on the other side of the door.

He gently knocked and peaked behind the door, he sighed when he saw her peaceful sleeping with a dopey Black dog plushie. Winston got it for her no doubt. Not wanting to wake her, he silently pulled a chair next to her bed the pulled her cold hand to his lips, he kissed it softly then gently held it.

Y/n shifted softly, the sudden movement make Egon fully alert.

“hi…” she smiled softly, he sighed in relief and rested his forehead on her leg. She tilted her head and gently brushed her cold fingers through his curls, the contact made his wall suddenly crumble. Tears of both gult and relief soaked her blanket. “I'm sorry… S-so sorry”

“Eggie… It's okay… Egon Everything is okay now” she cood. It was the first time ever she's seen him cry and she held no judgment. The only judgment was the one he was pushing on himself. “this is all my fault… I'm sorry”

“it's not your fault Egon…We're both safe now” y/n rested her hand on his cheek and he immediately nuzzled his face closer basking In her touch. His hand rested on top of hers and kissed her palm. “I love you”

The statement took her by surprise, but she wasn't disappointed. Egon didn't know how long she's been waiting to hear that and if she wasn't hurting and looking like a Freddy Kruger victim, she's be jumping into his arms or dancing around.

She smiled and pulled him closer, he got the message and leaned over to her making sure he didn't put any of his wight on her aching body. Their lips brushed up against each and this time there was no interruptions. The kiss was so gentle and held so much passion, he kissed her like it was the last time he'd every be able to do it. He pulled away and rested his forehead on hers.

She smiled softly. “I love you in every universe”

#Egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #Egon spengler imagines #harold ramis #Ghostbusters imagines #Ghostbusters x reader #80s

389 notes · View notes

nightxcreature · 3 months ago

Text

About Damn Time

A/N: I am certainly not a Sam girl, but I thought that I would try out something for him. Dean is my favorite, the LOML, but I'm trying to expand my horizons when writing, so heres a short one for Sammy. Written fast, edited poorly

Warnings: Drugs...sort of? Forced marriage, unrequited love on one part.

Pairings: Sam Winchester x reader, Dean Winchester x Friend!Reader, Becky Rosen x Sam Winchester

I was nursing a drink at a little strip club in Las Vegas, not exactly the place I wanted to be, but Dean wasn't leaving without hitting up a Vegas club first. He was chatting up the bartender while I sent yet another text to Sam, begging for him to at least tell me he was alive. He had left on a solo hunt a few days ago and we haven't been able to find him since. Dean keeps trying to reassure me that he's fine, but I know he's been messaging him just as much as I have. If not more.

"Hey, he just sent me a text. He's four blocks away and wants me to meet him with a suit." Dean's voice snaps me out of my own head, and I look toward him in confusion.

"Four blocks? I've been texting him all day, why didn't he just tell me that?" I question, mostly to myself.

Dean shrugs and leaves some cash on my table, "Maybe he's just been busy with another hunt. He's probably getting ready to do some fed interviews since he's got me bringing a suit."

I nod and grab my things, following behind him to the door. My phone dings as I get into the front seat, and I scramble to find it.

Sam: Who is this?

Me: What do you mean who is this? It's your girlfriend.

Sam: I don't have a girlfriend, I have a fiancée. Stop texting this number.

Me: Sam, this isn't funny. Dean and I are on our way.

"Dean, I think something's wrong. He's acting like he doesn't know who I am." I say as Dean flies down the street, "Where did he say he was?"

Dean shrugs, "Looks like a wedding chapel. He's probably just posing as a priest or crashing a wedding to get more info."

"But why would he pretend not to know me? He said he's engaged..." I reply placing a hand against my temple, "Something just feels wrong."

"Maybe he's just playing a prank on you. We'll figure it out if he isn't."

______________________________________________________________

As we step into the building the lights flicker causing Dean to send me a cautious look, pulling out our guns we slowly make our way through the hall toward the main chapel. The lights in the main room are bright and I have to put a hand in front of my eyes to adjust to the difference, finally coming to my senses I suck in a quick breath and stop in my tracks. Sam stands at the end of the aisle, a small smile on his face and a carnation boutonniere attached to his suit jacket. The world feels like it's moving in slow motion as he makes his way toward us, grabbing Deans gun and rushing to put it away.

"What are you doing?" He whispers angrily, dragging Dean to the front of the chapel. I slowly follow behind, unsure of exactly what's going on and where I should stand.

"What am I doing? What are you doing?" Dean asks, shoving Sam's hands off his arm, "Are we crashing a monster wedding or something?"

Sam reaches over and grabs another carnation, pining it to Dean's jacket and handing me a bouquet, "What? No! I'm in love."

Dean glances my way, a curious glint in his eye, "Oh really? Who could've guessed?"

I giggle and place a hand on Sam's arm, "Listen, maybe we should talk about this first."

He sends a funny look my way and stands up straighter, "Why? I know it's a little quick, but I'm in love. I know what I want and it's to get married. Today."

A look of shock passes my face, we hadn't even said 'I love you' yet. I mean, obviously I do love him, he's the sweetest guy I've ever known, but marriage? We don't exactly live a life that allows that most of the time.

"Maybe we should talk about this more in depth first."

"No. I know what I want." He says curtly, his frown immediately flipping upside down when the wedding march begins, and I hear the chapel doors swing open.

"What. The. Fuck." Dean lets out, grabbing my shoulders and spinning me toward the door.

Becky Rosen, the biggest Supernatural fan alive, is slowly making her way down the aisle to my boyfriend.

"What the fuck is right." I whisper, "Sam, what the hell is going on?"

"I love her." He answers simply.

"No, you don't." Dean says, yanking him back from the Elvis impersonator at the end of the aisle, "You've lost your mind."

"No, I haven't! We ran into each other, talked for a while, and I realized that I'm in love." Sam angrily responds as Dean shoves him into a pew.

He turns and points toward Becky and then at the pew in front of him, "You, sit. Now." Becky nods quickly and sits beside Sam, keeping a little space between them that Sam quickly closes pulling her closer, "Let her go, you don't love her. You love her!" Dean yells, pointing between Becky and me.

"I don't even know her!" Sam yells back, pulling Becky closer into his side as she giggles, "Becky is the love of my life."

I roll my eyes, "Are you sure she didn't poison you? This isn't the first time she's tried to get you into her bed."

Becky scoffs, "He loves me, didn't you hear him? I know that must be hard to accept, but it's true."

"Yeah, right." I nod, "Sam, you can't marry her. You don't even know her."

"I already did."

"What?" Dean and I question in unison.

Becky's smile grows even wider, "The ceremony is just for pictures, we signed the papers before you got here."

As she finishes her sentence, Elvis waltzes back up with the bill and Becky stands to follow him. Sam kisses her before she leaves, and I almost throw up.

"Dude, could you stop?" Dean suggests, "This could all be something written by Chuck. We need to figure that out before you go off with your new...wife." He sends me an apologetic look and then turns back to Sam,

"Chuck has nothing to do with this. I'm going back to Delaware with my wife, just be happy for me." Sam stands as Becky reenters the room and they head out the door for their...honeymoon.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I lay in the motel room alone while Dean is snooping at Becky's under the guise of bringing a gift. He suggested I stay back saying that he doesn't want to cause any problems for the happy couple, but I know that he really just wants to save me the anger and pain of seeing Sam with someone else. How does this even happen? I grab my laptop and click on my search engine, typing in anything that could give us insight into what's going on. Suddenly, Dean bursts through the door with Sam leaning against him and a smaller guy on their heels.

I Jump up from the bed and rush toward them, running my hands over Sam's face as he slowly blinks into consciousness, "What's going on? Is he okay?"

"Demons. He's fine, just tired. Becky was loading him up with some purple potion every day." Dean says as he grabs a beer from the fridge.

Sam reaches over and grabs my hand from where I placed it on the table beside him. He tugs me closer and leans against my chest, "Hey." He whispers quietly.

"Hi."

He sheepishly smiles as he looks up at my face, "Sorry that I forgot who you are."

I giggle and place a hand on his cheek, "You were drugged, I can't hold it against you. Just make sure it's me that you're meeting at the end of the aisle next time, ok?"

He chuckles and stretches up to kiss my lips, "Sounds good to me."

I stop short from touching his lips and smile, "Are you still married? I'm not comfortable being the cause for your infidelity."

He returns my smile and pulls my lips to his in a soft kiss before saying, "I signed the papers before we came up. You're no longer the other woman." He kisses me again and runs a hand through my hair, "I did realize something through all of this though."

"Yeah? Whats that?" I inquire, an eyebrow raised.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" He asks quickly, a shy blush rising in his cheeks.

"No, but you can."

"I love you." He whispers as he places his lips on mine again, "I really, really do."

"I love you, too." I return, smiling against his lips.

A slow clap begins behind us as Dean steps out of the bathroom, "It's about damn time."

A/N: I said this would be short, but it is not. My bad. Love you guys!

Tag List:

@lmhf1

#spn fanfic #supernatural #spnfandom #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x female!reader #dean winchester #sam and dean #sam winchester x you

51 notes · View notes

lenavonschweetz · 1 year ago

Text

Grace For Sale

Sam Winchester x Reader

Synopsis: Your town could definitely handle themselves, but a little help isn’t something you’d willingly turn down. When the Winchesters show up - do things get better, or worse?

Warnings: language, anti-religious sentiments, slight religious inner conflict, angst? If you squint?, smut, Under 18 keep faaaar away.

A/N: Takes place during s5:e17 - 99 Problems. So funny story, I actually AM a preacher’s kid so this episode kinda made me laugh then gave me the idea for this. Title comes from The Devil’s Carnival. Also, this has been sitting in my drafts for literal years, guess it’s about time I post it. As always, I don’t have a beta so please excuse any typos. I’ll fix any that are pointed out to me.

Enjoy!

Sam and Dean aren’t exactly sure what to make of your little town.

The welcome wagon was a little more off the wall than they were used to - what with a firetruck full of holy water, a portable exorcism, and a group of civilians that actually knew about the things that go bump in the night. Still, it wasn’t…the strangest introduction they’d encountered.

“So, are we gonna talk about that?” Sam asks as Dean steers impala into town - right on the tail of the Sacrament Lutheran Militia’s truck. What kind of a name was that anyway?

A church looms overhead, answering Sam’s unspoken question, and he wishes he hadn’t even asked.

It’s definitely the apocalypse, what with the devil’s trap brandishing the walkway up to the church door.

Sam’s eyes are heavy - spending the wee hours of the night fighting hellspawn will do that to you. Especially when you’re bleeding out. At least the militia had some quick fix first aid handy.

The first thing the brothers notice upon entering the sacred building is the couples standing at the alter, all facing the priest who prattles on about finding something special amidst the impending doom. The second thing they notice is all of the townsfolk holding shotguns.

Sam scoffs.

“A wedding? Seriously?” How in God’s name - no, y’know what, scratch that - how in the Hell were they hosting a wedding at a time like this?

“Yup. We’ve had 8 so far this week.” The man to his right, Paul, says and it’s obvious Sam isn’t the only one who’s less than impressed. At least they’re in good company.

It’s definitely the first time the brothers can be completely transparent in their introductions. Sure, sometimes they’re found out, or sometimes they’re among other hunters. But to tell an entire town - and a priest, no less - that they are demon hunters? Yeah, that may take a little getting used to.

So is the priest toting a gun and the children packing salt rounds in the basement of the church. Dean makes a quip about running scared or sticking around and making a home out of the place and Sam thinks he’d be leaning toward the later if the end of the world wasn’t resting on their shoulders.

But none of that explained how a whole town had taken up hunting.

Well, until the mystery prophet is introduced in the form of the “Packing Preacher’s” daughter - Leah.

Well…he’d been through stranger.

Dean makes a pass at her - right in front of her father. The father. Sam just rolls his eyes, gaze landing on the corner where another figure lurks.

Oh.

This one…he thinks…this one is much more his speed.

“Ah, my other daughter.” Pastor Gideon says, holding a hand out to beckon you forward. Sam watches as you push off the wall and approach the group. There’s little family resemblance, he notes, but definitely isn’t complaining. While your sister is clad in muted colors, baggy sweater, and tennis shoes - you opt for something a little form-fitting under your dark leather jacket with the combat boots to match. You scream ‘hunter’, ‘capable’, and ‘danger’ more than anyone else in this town and he has trouble tearing his eyes off of you. Now, you’re not complaining. In fact, your eyes linger on Sam just as much as he does on you. And when he realizes this, the mountain of a man becomes a flustered mess. It brings a smirk to your face and a blush to his. “Y/N, this is Dean and Sam Winchester.”

“So I’ve heard.” You chuckle, arms crossing in front of the very cleavage Sam’s staring at beneath your open flannel. You cock a brow, baiting him, though he seems too nervous with your father present to answer the challenge. “Shame Leah never mentioned you. Though,” you cast an appreciative glance over their strong frames and Sam very nearly shivers. Beside him, Dean practically preens. “I can see why. If I knew fine specimens such as yourself were going to be crashing in our little town, I’d keep it to myself too.”

The Father is none too amused when you wink at your sister and the two of you share a giggle. Again, Sam notes the distinct lack of resemblance but brushes it off.

“Y/N,” Your father says in warning, which you completely ignore and grant the taller Winchester another ravenous once over before turning on your heel. If anyone asked, you would deny that you were overemphasizing the swing of your hips.

“If you need me,” you tell him without so much as a glance, calling over your shoulder as you saunter up the basement stairs. “I’ll be at Paul’s!”

—————

The next time you see the brothers, it’s at the house Leah’s vision lead you to. Well, actually, that’s a lie. You saw them the night before at Paul’s bar, but they seemed to be wrapped up in a very important conversation - if the concentration on their brows had anything to say about it.

Still, that hadn’t stopped you from ordering the brothers a couple of beers. To his credit, Paul doesn’t judge you - which is a lot more than you can say for your family as of late - and even brought the boys their drinks so that you could do the ever so clique cheers across the bar.

Sam merely nodded in his head in thanks, raised his own beer with a silent ‘cheers’, then went back over to his brother.

So you couldn’t get a better read on them that night. That’s ok. It gave you the perfect opportunity to ogle to your heart’s content.

They were some fine specimens, that’s for sure. The perfect hunters. Sharp eyes, strong statures. Hell, Sam looked like he could take out multiple demons all on his own - I mean, come on. Those arms!

God, you had gotten such a perfect look at them while they brooded and planned what with the way Sam’s sleeves had been rolled and pushed up to his elbows. Had you ever found forearms as attractive as you did at that moment? Probably not.

And that jawline? Christ, you could cut glass on that thing.

The sideburns may have been a little much, but hell, if that was all you could pin as off, you’d take it!

Your ogling session had been cut short by the bell tolling - another of your sister’s visions - and after arguing with your father in front of the whole church that ‘yes, I am going with them’ - your hunting group was on the doorstep of the abandoned home. Most of the townspeople are toting guns full of salt or sprayers of holy water, all armed with the ridiculous incantation your sister had told you to use to exorcise them.

But not Sam. No, Sam was only wielding a knife, and God did he make it look easy. If you weren’t too busy kicking ass and getting your ass kicked, you’d be drooling over that too.

Only when the dust settles do you take the opportunity to approach the brothers.

“You really are the hunters my sister made you out to be.” Sam’s perfect eyebrow arches at that, gaze flickering to the way your chest rises and falls with your heavy panting.

“You didn’t think we would be?” You mirror his smirk and shrug, ignoring the way Dean is eyeing the two of you like he knows exactly what’s going on in your head. Honestly, he probably did. Dude seemed about as horny as you did.

“So,” Sam pants, following the group out of the house. You miss the way he’s eyeing your ass as you’re just steps ahead of him. “That’s what it’s like.” There’s no shortage of sexual innuendo in his voice and you decide to poke the bear a little more. Whether your father was in earshot or not.

“What what’s like?” You’re turned to him now, handing in your pockets and treading carefully backward. He meets your hungry look with one of his own and shivers absolutely rattle your body. Again he smirks, making sure the coast is clear of your father before saddling up right next to you.

“Having back up.” He all but whispers in your ear, large hand grazing just inches above your bottom and god, how did he make such an innocent statement sound so filthy. There’s no way he misses the way you tremble and sigh, not with the way he smirks at you while walking away.

You’re not sure what’s going to kill you first. The Demons or your insatiable need for Sam fucking Winchester.

—————

Neither.

Neither of those things is gonna kill you first.

Because it’ll be your father that kills you.

Because you’re going to fucking murder your sister.

After the Winchesters brought back a murdered Dylan…well, things were tense. People started to resent them and the warm welcome they had initially received turned cold. Only you and Paul would speak to them without adding to the guilt you knew they already felt.

You knew it wasn’t their fault. Hell, half of you had been through it before - coming off a hunt all together too cocky and not aware of the demon that still lurked around until it was too late. Dylan was a good hunter. Dean and Sam were good hunters. It had happened to the best of you. And so you do what you always did - you held a funeral and vowed to be more vigilant next time.

But that wasn’t enough for the townspeople.

Or for your sister.

No, she had to go and suck the fun out of everything.

No drinking, no gambling, no pre-marital sex.

All per the angels’ command, of course.

“What a crock of shit.” The empty glass thunks against the wood of the bar - as hollow as you feel right about now. Paul only echoes your sentiments and pours you another glass. The only thing that pulls you from your ire is the bell signifying a newcomer. For the first time since Leah’s proclamation, your scowl softens as the person you wanted to see most walks right through that door.

“So, what happened to, uh,” he makes a grand gesture to the empty bar - earning a snort from the two of you, “’the apocalypse is good for business’?”

“Yeah, right up until Leah’s angel pals banned the good stuff.” Paul says, earning a groan from you as you pinch the bridge of your nose at your damn sister’s name. “Y/N’s here helping me kill some inventory.” Sam chuckles at the glass you raise, tipping it toward him and saying ‘I’m only doing the good work.’ “Want to help?”

With a drink in hand, Paul pours a shot for each of you. He doesn’t hold back on his opinion of the ‘holy rollers’ nor their hypocrisy, to which Sam calls him out for his noticeable lack of faith. Paul shrugs it off, defending his honorable lack of prayer.

“Look, there’s sure as hell demons. and maybe there is a god, I don’t know. Fine. But I’m not a hypocrite. I never prayed before and I ain’t starting now. If I go to Hell, I’m going honest. Besides,” Paul nods to you just as you put your shot glass - empty again - back on the bar. “I figure if this one can get away with it, so can I.” Sam’s eyebrows raise at that, eyes finding you.

“You either?”

“I grew up in the church,” you explain. “I’ve seen how the…holiest of us all can be far worse than the ‘hooligans’ of the world.” You wink at Paul, air quotes bouncing as you mimic your father’s ‘preacher’ voice. The two of you share a laugh and you miss how Sam’s fingers tighten around his glass along with his jaw at the intimacy you two seem to share. “Yeah, I believe in some kind of higher power.” You continue, focus shifting to the Adonis beside you. He doesn’t miss the bitter tone your voice takes on. “But I don’t believe in the church. The organized religion crap. Never been too big on it. But then, neither had Leah. And now, out of nowhere, she’s some chosen prophet?” You scoff. “I dunno. I just can’t trust it. And like Paul said, I’m no hypocrite. I know I’m messed up. Won’t pretend otherwise.”

This time when you regard Paul, patting his hand as one would a brother, Sam’s shoulders relax.

“Yeah, I, uh…I know what you mean.” A moment of heavy, thick silence passes between the two of you before you’re pressing him for his thoughts with nothing more than a look. “I believe.” But he doesn’t sound so sure. More convincing himself than he is you, maybe, so you stay quiet and let him work through his thoughts. “Yeah, I do.” He says, more assured this time. “I’m just pretty sure God stopped caring a long time ago.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” A big sigh breaks from your chest, one of those sighs that comes when you feel like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, and suddenly this conversation is too heavy for how drunk you are not and for how drunk you want to be.

After a few moments, a morbid, hindsight joke blooms in your head and you can’t help but laugh, noting the questioning look on your drinking buddies’ faces.

“Guess those newlyweds knew something we didn’t.” You chuckle, taking a pull of your drink. “Tied the knot before Leah could restrict ‘em. Betcha they’re bangin’ like rabbits right about now.” The liquor burns, smothering your humorless chuckle as you knock it back. “Lucky bastards.”

Behind the bar Paul chuckles, noting the tension in the air, the sudden shift of mood, and takes his exit - mumbling something about grabbing more from the back. Neither you or Sam really hear him, though - too wrapped up in the other’s stare you share at what you’re implying.

Helluva wingman, that Paul.

Once the two of you are alone, Sam swivels in his chair until his long legs drape open and you have to force yourself not to look down. A bushy, perfectly masculine brow arches. Then he speaks - voice low and sweet and pure sin.

“Really? You, uh, don’t seem to have much issue with breaking the no-drinking rule.” And it isn’t a question. He flicks the back of his fingers against your glass, warm eyes staring right at you as the faint tinkling tickles your ears. Your heart shutters in time with the tinkling of skin on glass and you don’t realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip until his eyes flicker to it. “You gonna draw the line at pre-marital sex?”

“Now, Sam Winchester...who said I would do that?” The look you fix him with has him adjusting his suddenly too-tight pants.

“Not afraid of being damned? Of not being one of the ‘chosen’?”

“I’m no ‘chosen’.” You scoff, bouncing air quotes once more. “That’s my sister. Me? I’m just the poor little preacher’s kid who lost her faith a long time ago.” It isn’t seductive talk - in fact, it’s dark as hell. But he asked, and like you’d said before - you were no liar, and you were no hypocrite. You turn to your companion, renewed . “But you know…there is a curfew.”

The tonal shift isn’t subtle, but that doesn’t keep the space between you from growing ever smaller, Sam’s large hand sliding up your thigh and again you must fight off the urge to shiver. Especially when he lowers his voice once more, those big hazel eyes glancing at you from under his full, coal black lashes.

“Is that so?” A squeeze to your thigh, and you jolt just the tiniest bit, to Sam’s great amusement.

“My place is right around the corner.” You explain with a shrug, that damn lip caught between your teeth again. And suddenly in the dark, empty bar, you don’t care if you are damning yourself to hell. As long as it’s at the hands of Sam Winchester, you’ll go willingly.

—————

The wall of your entryway meets your back sharply, a hiss of pain escaping you momentarily before it’s silenced by Sam’s eager lips.

Hurried hands rid you of your clothes, his own falling like breadcrumbs alongside yours until the two of you are falling on to the bed. Fingers skilled at far more than knife-wielding ghost up your thighs, featherlight touches leaving a fire under your skin. He’s slow in his undoing of you. Reverent even. Watches the way you keen beneath him, begging for his fingers. Holds your eyes as he drags those fingers through his lips before trailing the wet tips down your front. When he finally gives them to you, one long digit sliding right up to the knuckle, your teeth break the skin of your lip just enough to hurt and you’re gasping - begging for more - which he gives to you, gladly. Working you until you’re ready for him and at the precipice of falling over the edge.

He had looked good in his clothes, sure, but god damn he’s ten times more beautiful out of them. Infinite smooth, golden skin lays beneath your greedy fingers, a dusting of fine hair contouring the plane of his chest and down below his waistband. Your mouth waters and you tug impatiently at his jeans.

“Someone’s eager.” He chuckles, low and husky, standing to drop both pants and boxers. Oh. Good God.

“Oh, you have no idea.” You only break your eyes away to grab a condom before you shove him on his back and straddle those strong thighs. "I've been wanting to get your clothes off since the second I laid eyes on you."

"Trust me," he breathes - no, borderline growls - and you shutter, walls fluttering at how fucking empty you are and just how fucking bad you need him inside of you right now. "The feeling's mutual."

He’s big all over, just like you expected, and even rolling the latex over his thick shaft has you shivering in anticipation. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by the gigantic man beneath you and before you can react, he’s rolling his hips with a moan that takes your breath away. It takes immense focus to speak through your gasp.

“Don’t finish this before it’s even started, Winchester.” He laughs at your warning, fingers digging into your thighs and ass. Oh, this man is going to wreck you, you just know it.

“You have so little faith in me?” A quip lies on your tongue, something about having no faith at all, but that melts into a strangled moan the second his fat head presses past your opening. “Oh, Christ.” He hisses, teeth clenched and head thrown back in unadulterated pleasure at the feel of you, your hips rolling slowly as you try your best to take the overwhelming size of him. Your fingers digging into supple pecs does nothing to ebb the overwhelming feeling of Sam spearing you open.

“Leave him outta this.” You quip, sinking down the rest of the way - finally. You both shiver at the feeling of him fully seated in you before you start rocking against him.

Not much else is said - not much else needed to be said - as the two of you chase relief and distraction in each other.

The stretch burns in the best way and you realize you're going to be feeling this for days. Every step, every shift is going to take you right back here - your hands splayed out on sculpted pecs, Sam's angelic and angular face contorted in ecstasy as he does his best to keep his eyes open and watch you ride him for everything he's worth. Those big hazel eyes blink up at you, fluttering and rolling at a particularly deep stroke before they're suddenly open - fiery and determined. There's no time to even tease or question before he's pistoning up into you, his marble body rubbing yours in such a way that has you gasping for air, his massive hands splayed over your ass to keep you exactly where he wants you. Sloppy thrusts turn to rocking hips and the new angle has your toes curling.

His cock grazes just the right spot with every rock of his hips, both of you whispering moans and groans of the other’s name. You do your best to keep up, rolling your tired hips when you can, nails biting into his skin when you have to focus solely on not imploding right where you are.

Your orgasm crests, and you beg him to go faster - to take control - and he does, practically throwing you onto your back to angle you the exact way he wants to. The height difference is dizzying - even with you on your back and him on his haunches - all you can see while he hammers into you is the brand on his chest. You itch to bite into the ink, to make him mewl against your skin once more but all rational thought flies out the window when his thumb reaches between your splayed legs, presses in tight, dizzying circles, and sends you spiraling into oblivion as aftershock after aftershock rocks your nerves.

In the aftermath of it all - after you’ve seen white from the intense pleasure he milked out of you - you lie in a daze. Memorizing the way his hands feel as he wipes some of his spend off your chest. Jesus, the sounds that man had made when he came...you have half a mind to tie him down and never let him leave - your sister's 'orders' be damned.

“It’s past curfew, y'know?” You remind him, fingers tracing the divots and curves of his abdomen. God, he’s perfect. You could spend hours memorizing every inch of skin. Pity said skin disappears behind thick flannel once more. You bite back a disappointed groan, casting your eyes over his massive stature. You don't think you'll ever get over just how small he makes you feel - in the best possible way, of course. Especially when he flashes that perfect fucking smile at you, dimples and all.

“Yeah? What about it?” He urges, a shit-eating grin playing at his lips as he dares you to ask him to stay. You sit up on your knees then, leveling yourself with his chest and drag your fingers down once more. "Something you want to say, Y/N?" If possible, his grin grows wider when you crook an eyebrow at him, beckoning him to your level with a come hither finger to match.

“If you’re waiting for me to ask you to stay, Sam Winchester," you whisper, lips ghosting over his own and you take great pride in the way his sinfully long lashes flutter against the tops of his sharp cheeks. "You can keep waiting.” The low groan that escapes his throat when you cup him once more makes you ache in the absolute best way. You're seconds away from throwing your pride to the wind and pulling him back into bed with you. But this is the end of the world after all. No doubt he has other pressing matters to attend to.

“Yeah, well, as much as I would love to…I should get back before Dean gets worried.” Disappointment laces his words, but you’re both too grown-up for any fairytale crap. Your life felt like more a horror lately than a fantasy, anyway. So, with incredibly gentle fingers, he pulls your hand toward his lips, grazing them over your knuckles as his eyes bore into yours. Hmm, he plays dirty.

“Yeah…my dad’s probably expecting me at the church.” You offer lamely, though there's probably some truth to it. Not one night goes by without a demon attack or a vision from the chosen sister. You're surprised you haven't been interrupted by a frantic call from your father already, as a matter a fact. He smiles at you again, your heart running rampant as he's tossing the towel down to wrap his arms around your waist once more. The look in his eyes and the hardness pressing into your belly are tempting enough, but you manage to grit out a warning "Sam..."

“And here you are, sinning with the outsider.” He rumbles, smirking as his eyes drink in your face for - most likely - the last time. You return his smile, reeling him in for one last kiss...or twelve.

“Yeah, well, if I’m going to hell anyway, may as well make the road there fun.”

If only you knew the literal hell that awaited you in the next few hours…

FIN

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester reader insert #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn reader insert #reader insert #lena writes #sam winchester smut #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfic #smut #fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction

197 notes · View notes

pxrplebxtterfly · 2 years ago

Text

Yes Father (1/2)

gifs belong to me

18+

Pairing: Sam Winchester’s alias Father Frehley x fem reader

Warnings: SMUT, (d)ubcon, priest kink?, innocence ruined kink?, mentions of God and religion, mentions of death and murder, handjob, fingering. (Sorry if I didn’t identify the warnings correctly. I tend to just write without thinking of what things are called.)

Summary: Two junior priests visit your church and you’re tasked with giving them a tour of the chapel. You take a liking to one and meet him later that night at the church.

Word count: 3.3k

Notes: This fic was written in a FIRST PERSON POV!!! This is the first part of a two-part fic about Sam’s alias Father Frehley. This first part takes place during season 1, episode 14: Nightmare. Anyways, thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy!

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

I’ve always been a believer. Always. I go to mass every Sunday and always help out where I’m needed.

I have a myriad of jobs to do at the Church. Sometimes I hand out book bags for the kids to look through, or other weekends, the coffee and doughnuts for the parents, just devoting my time to the Church.

One Sunday, I’m handing out said coffee and doughnuts after the final service of the day, when two new priests walk into the lobby of the church. They’re dressed in black suits with white roman collars, marking their priesthood.

They’re listening to Father Padrick; one of the priests at my church, and asking him questions. They follow him in through the doors and make their way closer to my little table.

They’re handsome. Probably the most handsome men I’ve ever seen in my life. I almost choke on my breath when I see them. One in particular is a mountain of a man; broad shoulders, chestnut hair, and misty hazel eyes. He looks pensive as Father Padrick speaks to him.

Approaching me, Father Padrick says, “Hi dearie, this is Father Simmons and Father Frehley”

The blonde one nods first, and then the brown haired one. His eyes stay on mine for a moment too long.

“Gentlemen,” Father Padrick continues, “This is y/n. She goes to the university in town and volunteers here every Sunday.”

“Nice to meet you” I say timidly and stick out my hand to shake theirs. Father Frehley quickly grabs a hold of mine and squeezes it gently. His bear paw of a hand envelopes mine and the dry warmth sends a shiver down my spine.

“It’s always good to see fellow young people helping out the church” Father Frehley says to me, kind eyes making me smile.

“Fellow?” I ask him. He doesn’t necessarily look old at all, it’s mostly just his frame that makes me think so.

He smiles and says, “Yes, I’m only twenty-three, still new to the parish”

Father Simmons must have seen my enchantment with Father Frehley and interrupts my thoughts saying, “I’m also new, and young, just for the record.” He chuckles awkwardly and I nod my head in slow agreement.

“Anyways, would you please take these two on a tour around the church?” Father Padrick asks.

“Of course, follow me” I say softly.

I walk in front of the men, leading them towards the large wooden doors that lead into the chapel.

“So, have both of you come to join the clergy here?” I ask, dipping both my fingers in the small dish of holy water as I enter.

“Uhm no, we’re actually junior priests over at St. Augustine’s, however we were close with Father O’Malley and are in town for the weekend for his funeral” Father Frehley says mournfully.

When I hear him mention Father O’Malley I quickly turn around to watch them both make the sign of the cross.

Father O’Malley was another priest at my church, who was murdered in a sadistic and bizarre way a week ago outside his home.

“Oh gosh, I didn’t even think to connect the dots. I’m so sorry for your loss. I didn’t know him as well as I know Father Padrick, he mostly did services during the weekdays” I say and hang my head in sorrow.

“It’s okay, we just wanted to come take a look at where he devoted his time and talk to others that knew him” Father Simmons adds.

I nod, “I wish I could tell you all about him, but unfortunately I don’t know what to say, he was a very secluded man”

Father Frehley smiles warmly, understanding what I mean and continues, “Did Father O’Malley pick up any strange habits or behaviors recently?”

“Not that I can think of. I’m sorry, was something wrong before his death?” I ask, wondering why such a strange question was asked at random.

“Well that’s what we’re trying to figure out” He responds.

I hum and fidget with the hem of my cardigan as we make eye contact. Father Frehley licks his lips subconsciously and they glisten just like his eyes.

A rumble of heat echoes from my private parts and I look down at my shoes, struggling to figure out what that sensation was.

“Everything okay?” Father Frehley asks.

I shoot my head up and realize he’s closer to me now, leaning in with concern. “Oh yeah,” I laugh, “just feeling a little sick or something”

I don’t know why my heart has started to beat fast, or why my mouth is suddenly dry. Was I afraid of him? Did he excite me?

“Well, we’ll let you get home, but if you remember anything about Father O’Malley and his death, or you even just feel strange, call us, okay?” Father Frehley says.

I bite my lip as our fingers touch when he hands me a small card with his number on it.

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

I’m pacing back and forth in the living room of my small apartment, trying to calm the panic inside of me. My stomach is churning and my body racked with anxiety as images of Father O’Malley through my mind. The uncomfortable adrenaline from thinking about the death of a person I knew, was eating away at me.

I’m cursing at my own brain and decide to walk to the next block and pray at the church.

I grab the keys to the church and head out.

I approach the doors of the building and stick the key in. I fidget with the key but realize that the doors are already unlocked. I open the door quietly, assuming it’s Father Padrick completing future sermon plans.

As soon as I’m inside I realize the doors to the chapel are open and see the flickering of prayer candles lighting up the room. Dark shadows bounce off the walls and it’s eerily silent.

I continue further into the chapel and see someone sitting on the steps of the altar. Moonlight shines through the ceiling of glass and windows of stained glass, to illuminate the brooding figure.

I squint and quickly recognize exactly who it is.

“Father Frehley?” I ask, and walk towards him.

His head shoots up in surprise.

“How’d you get in here?” I continue.

His face beams as he recognizes it’s me. He sighs as I approach him. “Promise you won’t tell Father Padrick?”

“That depends on how you got in,” I say teasingly.

He scoffs with a grin, claps his hands together and says, “I picked the lock”

My eyes widen and a smile spreads across my face as I laugh about his entrance strategy. This giant of a priest, broke into a church and didn’t even seem to be repenting.

“You could have just asked me for a spare key” I grin.

“Oh yeah? And what are you doing here?” he asks.

I blush at his interest, “I just came here for a moment away from life’s anxieties”

“Sounds like we both could use a break”

I look down at him inquisitively. His eyes are sparkling up at me. I watch him stand up and take a step towards me.

My stomach flutters and that strange rush returns to my privates. I let in a sharp breath, shocked at the sensation.

“What do you mean?” I ask eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“I’ve just been stressed lately, and could use a stress reliever. You’d be surprised at how interesting and hectic my life is. All that chaos can really do a number on you, you know? Stress takes on all sorts of physical forms in your body” he elaborates.

“Like what?” I ask and tilt my head, curious to see if he continues.

“Well, for instance, pain,” he pauses, looks at me and bites his lip. I can tell there’s thoughts and ideas brewing in his head. “I’m actually experiencing some pretty bad pain right now” he sighs.

“Where? What happened?” I immediately scan his body, looking for any signs of pain.

“Earlier today I was on a date, and my date had a job that she didn’t finish… Which has left me with a tremendous amount of tension and soreness” he says, and places his hand on his crotch.

My eyes go big yet again at the sight of a large bulge in his pants.

“A date? I thought priests weren’t allowed to date” I step back.

“I mean a date as friends silly,” he explains.

“Oh, I see” I nod and feel stupid for jumping to conclusions.

He squeezes the rod in his pants and closes his eyes for a second, as if he’s trying to imagine something.

“Is that where it hurts?”

“Yeah, it’s really sore and hurts real bad”

“Is there anything I can do to help Father?”

He lets out a shaky breath when I say his title. His hand begins to rub over the bulge, back and forth. “There is something,” he says, “you could give me a special massage”

“Of course Father, anything to help” I say and reach for the bulge. He grabs my wrist before I’m able to place my hand on him.

“Hold on a sec, let me get comfortable” he whispers.

I nod, agreeingly; the perfect massage requires the perfect position. He leads me by the wrist to a pew in the first row and sits me down right next to him.

As soon as we’re sat, I reach over and place my hand on his large bulge and rub my hand back and forth just like he was.

“I’ve never given anyone a special massage before, so will you tell me if I’m doing it right?” I ask, looking into his darkening eyes.

“Of course baby, let me pull my pants down so you can get a better grip” he says.

The pet name ‘baby’ sends another odd wave to my privates.

Father Frehley pulls his pants down and something large springs up.

“This is my cock baby, it hurts really bad. The only thing that’ll make me feel better is if you touch it” he begs into my ear.

I nod and he places his huge hand over mine, and brings it to what he calls his cock.

“Yeah just like that” he praises, wrapping my hand around him. “Now move your hand up and down and don’t stop until I tell you to.”

I follow his instructions and begin to move my hand up and down. He’s moaning and huffing while he looks into my eyes, watching me work.

“Fuck honey, you’re making my dick feel so good” he seethes.

Before I can even think, he reaches for my face and kisses me. I know that kissing is wrong but I don’t pull back because I don’t want him to be mad at me for disobeying him, and because it makes my privates flutter again.

I continue to pump at his dick and his hips begin to thrust into my hand harder and faster, so I apply more pressure and quicken my pace. My hand and arm are sore but he hasn’t told me to stop so I continue. I just want to take his pain away.

As we kiss, his hands pull slightly at parts of my hair and push at parts of my face. One of his hands finds my neck and wraps around it gently. Warmth spreads through every vein in me.

His kisses become sloppy and his tongue is exploring my mouth. I traverse his mouth with my own tongue as well and the heat between us increases. His tongue circles mine, leaving me breathless. His moans become louder the faster I pump my hand. His cock is throbbing, and his hips are stuttering into my fist.

With a sudden “Fuck” from his lips, I feel something warm splatter on my hand while I jerk at his dick. His whole body tenses and then relaxes with the release of the fluid. He wraps his hand around mine and slows my pumps, eventually making them come to a stop.

“Fuck baby, you’re amazing, look at what you did to me” he smiles intoxicatingly as his lips pull away from mine.

“Did that- did that make you feel better?” I ask shyly.

“So much better, you have no idea” he shakes his head and laughs.

His laugh and the weird warmth and sensations in my privates causes my hips to roll forward uncontrollably.

“Sorry,” I apologize for the spasm.

“Oh don’t be sorry, is everything okay?” he asks, his face scrunched with worry.

“Well, I don’t know, I think so, but I feel funny,” I confess.

“Where?” he asks, and doesn’t break eye contact with me.

The funny feeling only increases, “Somewhere embarrassing?”

“Embarrassing? What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well, I’m not supposed to talk about it. It’s impolite and crude”

“Oh, I see what you mean…” he smiles and nods, understandingly. “Does it feel all fluttery and hot?”

My face grows bright red, and I whisper, “How do you know that?”

He laughs softly and says, “I wasn’t always a priest”

I don’t really understand what he means but I bunch my hands into fists as I catch him biting his lip, and his eyes scanning down my body.

“It’s only growing worse isn’t it?” he asks.

I suck in a deep breath and nod.

“Do you want me to help you with it? I can make you feel all better” he breathes out so tenderly.

He’s so close to me, for the first time I can really smell his cologne and hear his breathing.

“H-how? A special massage?”

He nods; traces a finger up and down my arm as he asks, “Will you let me touch you?”

“You mean, down there, where it feels funny?”

He nods again and looks like he’s about to devour me. I’m shocked at his request. Nobody has ever wanted to help me feel better by touching me.

“And if I let you, it’ll make me feel better?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. If you let me, I can make you feel really good” his fingers ghosting my waist.

“Are you sure?” I whimper. The heat from his body and touch fuel the sensation in my privates.

“Mhm” he says and kisses me softly.

Something in me ignites as he pulls me against him and slips his tongue in my mouth. His hands run up my back and hold the sides of my face as he plunges his tongue into my mouth. His kisses slow and he lets out a low moan as he pulls away.

“Sit on my lap” he commands.

I don’t question this for a second and immediately sit on his lap, my back pushing against his torso. He places his hands on my stomach and begins to run them up and down my torso. Father Frehley is right, this does feel good.

With caution, he moves his hands up to my breasts and I moan. I didn’t think that a touch on my chest could stir such a feeling in me.

“Let me help you baby” he coos against my neck. He begins to kiss, and suck, and lick at my neck, making me dizzy. His hands have somehow undone my bra and taken my sweater off. He's massaging my breasts, running his fingers over my nipples, tweaking them occasionally. I can’t help but whimper and moan from his touch. My hips begin to buck, like they have a mind of their own.

“God look at how needy you are” he groans into my neck.

His hands finally find my privates and he rubs his hand over my mound. My hips continue to move, grinding against his hand.

“How can someone so beautiful never have been touched?” he mumbles.

Continuing his kisses on my neck, he pulls my skirt up and rips my tights. I squeal from his impressive action and watch as his large fingers pull my panties to the side and touch my hole.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet” he melts into my ear.

His fingers gather the slick that drips out of me and brings it up to the most sensitive part of my privates.

I moan as he circles that spot slowly and he says “This is your clit. When I touch this, it makes you feel better doesn’t it?”

“Yes Father” I mumble, already addicted to whatever this feeling was.

Father Frehley groans at my obedience and applies more pressure. He’s skillfully rubbing at my clit and I feel a strange tightness increase in me. It’s like a balloon of pleasure slowly blowing up inside of me.

As soon as it feels like it’s going to pop, he pulls his fingers off of me. My hips stutter in the air, aching at the loss. I whine at the stop of the sensation.

“Shhhhh, I know honey, you’re doing so well for me. But now I’m going to put my finger inside of you” he whispers.

He does exactly what he says. I feel one of his thick and long fingers slide into my hole. I immediately clench around it and moan from both pleasure and discomfort.

“God you’re so fucking tight” he whines. I don’t even recognize he’s taken the lord’s name in vain.

He lets me take a second to adjust to his finger inside of me, but then begins to slowly drag it out and back in. Each time he plunges his finger back in, I moan. He begins to pick up the pace and also starts to move his finger while it’s inside of me, hitting a sweet spot against my walls. I feel a tear roll down my cheek as his finger curls and continuously brushes that sensitive spot.

“Look at your tight, virgin cunt, trying to push my finger out,” he hisses.

His finger feels so good, prodding that perfect spot in me again and again and again and again.

With time he adds another finger to me and picks up his pace. The palm of his hand rubs against what he calls my clit, and it feels so, so wonderful. His fingers are flicking back and forth in me, vibrating against that tart spot, making my eyes water.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl, taking what I give to you. Want you to make a mess all over my hand baby” he moans.

His words kick my hips into action and I begin to grind up against his hand even more.

With one hand pinching my nipple and the other slamming into me, the balloon of pleasure that had been building, bursts. A wave of fluttering and blinding sensations hits me and I’m thrown into a different universe. I think I see God and hear angels singing.

As the tide of this sensation goes out, I’m once again back in the church on Father Frehley's lap. His fingers have slowed and so have his kisses on my neck.

“Look at the pretty mess you made” he whispers and slowly drags his long fingers out of me. I moan at feeling and at the sight of his glistening hand.

He cups my mound gently and kisses me on the shoulder. He brings his fingers up to my mouth and says “Taste yourself sweetheart”

I obey and open my mouth to let his fingers slide in. I suck and taste the nectar I’ve made. With a pop, he takes his fingers out of my mouth and says “Good girl”

I lay in his lap just catching my breath, looking up through the glass ceiling at the stars, trying to rationalize what I just experienced. Almost as if he can read my mind he wraps his arms around me comfortingly, and kisses my shoulder gently.

“You did so well baby” he whispers.

#supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester smut #smut

245 notes · View notes

always-andromeda · 1 year ago

Text

Here's my masterlist for the Haunted Hoedown Challenge!! Thank you to @inklore and @psychedelic-ink for organizing such a unique challenge!! I tried to put together a fairly diverse list of characters who I have written for and have wanted to write for. So hopefully this helps bring me out of my writing slump a little. Depending on how things go, some of these may change or may not be written at all. Either way, this list will definitely be updated as the challenge progresses!!

Please keep in mind that this challenge contains NSFW content and some of the works listed below will contain dark themes. Minors, please do not interact with these works and please read my content warnings. Take care of yourself, friends.

Banner inspo goes to @inklore and divider credits go to @saradika!!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ✯ 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐋, 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐃

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Father Paul Hill x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ taboo au + "Everything I've done...every atrocity, it's been for you."

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ✯ 𝐋'𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐋 𝐃𝐔 𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Jeff (Gone Girl) x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ “Tell me you want me back. Tell me I'm forgiven.” + the toxic exes trope

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ✯ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Edward Nashton x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ daydreaming about being with you is better than actually being with you because i missed all the red flags and now it's too late + "You're a monster." + "That's never stopped you before."

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ✯ 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ DBF!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ taboo au + once is not enough + "Do you like when I touch you like this? I can keep going if you want me to."

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ✯ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Professor!Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ taboo au + dark academia + “I can see how badly you want this, so I'm going to make sure you get it.”

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐗 ✯ 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Love Quinn x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ stalker au + “Don't you know how sick with love I am for you?”

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ✯ 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐒

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Demon!Joby Taylor x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ a ritual gone wrong and now i'm bound to a demon + "You're mine, whether you agree or not."

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ✯ 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐎𝐃

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Shane “Dio” Morrissey x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ slasher / summer camp au + sex in the woods + “This is so fucked up.” + “But you like it.”

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 ✯ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐑𝐘

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Javier Peña x Fem!Reader x Steve Murphy

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ inspired by your favorite Lana Del Rey song + love triangle gone wrong + “Finders keepers.”

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐍 ✯ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Ezra (Prospect) x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ shapeshifter au + "He's a monster." + "He's perfect."

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ✯ 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐃

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ gothic au + “Worship me. Until I tell you to stop.” + priest au

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 ✯ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✯ Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ✯ 1970s porno filming + orgasm denial/overstimulation/edging + “You’re not actually scared are you? Of me?”

#hauntedhoedown #haunted hoedown

72 notes · View notes

queen-of-deans-booty · 7 months ago

Text

Soul Survivor: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: Sam begins the process of curing Dean while you sit back and watch Dean get worse before he gets better. One thing is for sure: you're going to have a lot of fun drowning his soul in pain.

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

Dean's back in the bunker undergoing trials to cure him of being a demon. He's locked up in the dungeon right now and is screaming his head off for someone to let him out. He can keep yelling for someone to come let him out but you're going to continue to ignore him. You're sitting in the library with your feet kicked up on one of the tables. You're reading a magazine you found in your room about whatever celebrity is getting canceled.

"Stupid fucking Kim. Always getting yourself into some shit," you scoff and turn the page.

Sam walks into the library with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He stops when he sees you and studies your behavior.

"I'm going to go get purified blood and talk to a priest."

"I don't care," you say and continue reading. If looks could kill, then Sam would be burning holes into your head. You groan and set your magazine down to look at him. "What?"

"Sorry, it's just so weird to see you this way."

You shrug and go back to reading.

"Get used to it. This is the new me."

Sam leaves without another word. Now that it's just you and Dean alone in the Bunker, you might as well have some fun with this. You toss your magazine to the side and make your way down to the dungeon. Dean is struggling against the ties when you enter the storage room. Dean stills when he hears the click of your heels on the concrete floor. His eyes turn pitch black knowing it won't scare you. You grab a lone chair and drag it over to him so you can be face-to-face with him.

Dean looks pissed but he isn't going anywhere, not with the demon handcuffs on sitting on a chair in the middle of a devil's trap. He looks like he's ready to kill but you smirk and lean back into your chair.

"Soak it in, princess, because when I get free, I'm going to make your death last twice as long as you've been alive."

You can't help but laugh at his threat. That only pisses him off more but you laugh more.

"I'm sorry," you giggle. "Even your threats are pathetic. It's fitting. Pathetic threats for a pathetic demon."

Dean's hand twitches in anger. Instead of egging you on for another fight, he changes tactics.

"What are you gonna do if I am cured? Hmm? I'll go back to my normal self that loves and cares for you. You know damn well I'll stop at nothing to get you back to who you were before."

You don't say anything because you know he's right. Once Dean is cured, he'll do anything to get his wife back. You like life like this. Life is so much easier when you're not worrying about everything and everyone. Still, you don't let it show that what he says bothers you. Instead, you decide to turn it around and throw it back at him.

"So? You'll be back to normal while I still stay like this. All your pesky emotions will be dialed back on which will make this relationship that much more painful. To know that I don't give a shit about you while your heart still bleeds for me. It's going to be so much fun to watch you crumble to the ground as you watch the love of your life live her life without you."

Sam returns back from the priest and the hospital quicker than you thought. He must not want you to be around Dean for longer than you have to. You slide back from Dean when he enters with blood bags in the duffel bag. He doesn't say anything about the way Dean is glaring at you and the way you're smirking at Dean. Dean focuses his attention on his brother and rolls his eyes when he sees the blood bags.

"Really?"

"For whatever it's worth, I got your blood type."

Sam takes out the blood bags and lays them on the table along with the medical instruments he's going to use to stick Dean.

"Sam, I know you think you're gonna try and fix me, but did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want to be fixed? Just let me go live my life. I won't bother you. Why do you care?"

"Why do I care?"

Sam grabs some holy water and splashes it onto the ground around Dean and starts chanting in Latin.

"Do you really think I'm just gonna sit here like Crowley? Getting all weepy while you shoot me up? Fuck that. I don't want this!" Dean yells.

"Yeah, I pretty much figured that out," Sam says when he's done chanting.

"You don't even know if this is gonna work, do you? I got a hell of a lot more running through me than just demon juice."

"Mark of Cain, I got it."

"That's right." Sam grabs a syringe and fills it with blood from one of the bags. He walks over to Dean and grabs his forearm to prevent him from struggling too much. "Sammy, you know I hate shots."

"I hate demons." Dean's eyes go black right before Sam splashes him with holy water. Dean yells in pain as his skin sizzles, and Sam shoves the needle into his arm. "Look, we got a whole bunch more of these to go. You could make it a lot easier on yourself."

The blood is already taking some effect on Dean so you and Sam walk out of the dungeon to give him some time alone. You walk through the empty halls a completely different person. This place used to hold so much value to you with so many memories of your kids running up and down the halls with the dogs.

You were going to go back to the library to read but decided to take a detour to Joanna's room. Everything is as she left it. Did she leave or was she forced out? All of her toys are still scattered on the floor since she never liked putting her toys away. Her bed is still messy from the day before she left. You walk in and turn the light on. She insisted on having pink fairy lights instead of real lights even though there is a lamp in the corner.

There are pictures on the wall you and she decorated of your growing family. In one picture, you and Joanna are in the hospital right after she was born. The nurse wasn't freaked out about your magic going haywire and took a picture with your daughter without Dean in it. Dean was standing by the door watching with a smile on his face thinking How did I get so lucky? The second picture is of Joanna in the pool trying to swim without her floaties for the first time. She sunk easily but you were there to catch her before she went fully under. Only your hand can be seen in the frame.

The third picture is of you, Dean, Joanna, and Maryann. This was before you met Noah and invited him into your home. You are sitting between Dean's legs with Joanna sitting between yours and Maryann sitting between her sister's. Dean is leaning to the left to try and get your hair out of his face while Joanna is looking up at you with a goofy smile on her face.

So many memories that mean absolutely nothing to you anymore.

"I don't know where they are," Sam interrupts your trip down memory lane, "but I do know they're safe." You look to the right to see him leaning against the frame of the door. "That's all that matters, right?" You don't answer him and begin walking to the bedroom door to leave. "Do you even care where they are?"

"You want the honest answer?" you ask and meet his eyes.

"Yes."

"They could be rotting in the ground and I wouldn't give a damn."

You push past Sam's shocked face and leave him to drown in the memories. The Mark fucked you up in ways not even you fully understand. When Dean died, something happened to you to make you not feel this way. You're supposed to be crying for your kids. You're supposed to be fighting for Dean to be human again.

You're not supposed to be pushing them away but here you are, pushing them away.

After an hour has passed, you and Sam walk down to the dungeon to give Dean his second dose of the blood cure. Sam doesn't say a word as he fills another syringe and sticks it in Dean's arm. Your husband groans in pain and rolls his head to the side.

"For all you know, you could be killing me."

"Wouldn't that be an interesting change," you smirk and sit down.

"Or you're just messing with me. Either way, the lore doesn't say anything about exceptions to the cure."

"The lore," Dean chuckles. "Hunters. Men of Letters. What a load of shit it all is!" You and Sam are quiet for two different reasons. "Oh, now you got nothing to say?"

"Do you want me to debate you? This isn't even the real you that I'm talking to."

"Oh, it's the real me, alright. The new real me. The me that sees things for what they really are. Winchesters. Do-gooders. Fighting the natural order. Let me tell you something about guys like me. We are the natural order. It's the way it was set up."

"Guys like me still got to do what we can."

"Don't be so full of yourself, Sammy. From where I'm sitting, there ain't much difference from what I turned into to what you already are."

You know exactly what Dean is doing. Sam is falling right into his trap of manipulation. Dean knows that he is going to get turned back into a human at the end of the day, so he's going to try and hurt Sam in as many ways as he possibly can before time's up. Sam is taking the bait he set out so delicately. You cross your arms and smirk but stay silent.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know what you did when you went looking for me. I know how far you went. Crowley told me all about it. So, let me ask you which one of us is really a monster? Hmm? Starting to come back to you now?"

You might have overheard a conversation between Crowley and Dean about what Sam did but you couldn't care less about it. Something about how Sam was the one who convinced Lester to sell his soul. Sam wanted a crossroads demon knowing they wouldn't come up for a Winchester so he convinced some dumbass to sell his soul. He did it before Sam could get there in time.

"You would have liked to have gotten there before the deal went down but you didn't really care about poor ol' Lester, did you?" Dean continues. "Oh, and just so you know, I killed Lester myself. That wife of his married the tattooed guy."

Sam slams his hands down on the metal table angrily. It's working. Dean is getting under his brother's skin hoping he'd make a mistake and either let him go or fuck up the trial so it would give Dean more time to think of a way out of here.

"I never meant--"

"Who cares what you fucking meant?!" Dean yells. "That line that we thought was so clear between us and the things that we hunted, ain't so clear is it? Wow. You might actually be worse than me!" Dean laughs. "I mean, you took a guy at his lowest, used him, and it cost him his life and soul. Nice work."

Sam grabs another syringe that's already filled with blood and stabs Dean in the neck. He was supposed to wait the hour before doing another dosage so you're not sure if this is going to fuck it up or not. Dean screams in pain while Sam leans over the table with pain and regret written on his face. He catches your eyes and you give him a thumbs up.

"You're doing a great job."

"Shut the fuck up," Sam growls and turns to his brother.

"Let me ask you this, Sammy: If this doesn't work, we both know what you got to do to me, right?" Sam shakes his head and leaves the dungeon without another word. "You got the stomach for that, Sam?!" Dean looks at you who is amused by their petty fight. "What the fuck are you smiling about?"

"Just watching. Observing. He walked right into your trap. I thought he was smarter than that."

"What are you going to do if this doesn't work? I still have power over you. I'll make it so you never see daylight again."

You uncross your arms and stand up before approaching him slowly.

"Let's say it doesn't work and you're a demon forever. There's still something I'll have that you never will."

You grab both armrests and lean down to his level.

"What is that?"

"Respect," you whisper. "You want to know what I'll do if this doesn't work? I'll litter that gorgeous body of yours with devil trap bullets so that when I dismember you, I'll bury you across the state. You'll never be able to smoke out. I might not be a witch anymore, but you're forgetting one thing: I am still a hunter. I know how to make someone disappear. After all, I am the best. No one will ever find you. I'll be up here and live my life, so who's really laughing then?"

If Dean was a cartoon character, smoke would be coming out of his ears at how angry he is. You wink at him and leave him to think about your words alone in the dungeon.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural angst #spn #supernatural series rewrite #supernatural season 10

15 notes · View notes