#sam winchester is a perv and i stand by it

[abitchandabastard]

i LOVE when a woman is just a pervert like period stand by it

i also wholeheartedly believe sam winchester is the biggest perv in the family that hoe is a fucking freak idgaf he was watching dean shower and sat in deans lap when john drove on unpaved roads and wiggled just a little too much when dean pressed up behind him in bed and all this is real to me

[godjustkys]

| mndi 18+

| What a perv.

please give requests.

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Pairing: Top!dom!AMAB!reader x bottom!sub!Dean Winchester.

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Genre: smut.

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Word count: 2,357

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Warning(s): slight feminisation, use of pet names, reader being a cocky asshole (just a lil bit), unprotected sex, reader has clothes on/character does not, bratty Dean >:)

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Request: "can i req perv dean winchester x top male reader? possibly where dean’s jerking off to something that correlates to the reader (like a picture/boxers/whatever works really), but ends up getting caught? he’d usually use his glib tongue to get away, but poor princess is so embarrassed he’s caught jerking off to a guy."

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A/n: i think about dean a lot, putting my headcanons to use here. i need him so badly,,

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You had just gotten back from a grocery trip, putting the bags on the kitchen table. “Fuckin' hell, it's quiet.” You murmured to yourself, your hands on your hips.

Sam was out. Somewhere. Said he had business to attend to. He took Cas with him, so the only one that should be home right now was Dean. At first you thought you'd come home to Dean sitting in the kitchen and drinking, or simply watching the TV.

Neither of those were the case. You slowly walked to Dean's room, thinking to yourself. Just as you reached the door to his bedroom, you opened it immediately, figuring it'd be pointless to knock at this point.

“Dean, will y- woah—” you were in the doorway, standing still, your hand on the door handle.

Dean scrambled to sit up, getting a blanket to cover himself up. “What the hell! Knock, you moron!” He yelled at you, his facial expression clearly offended. Dean swallowed hard, eyebrows furrowed.

“Jesus Christ, okay, sorry-” you thought it was funny, how you caught him jerking off. You had a grin on your face, taking in the surroundings for a little while as you took a small step back, planning to close the door and leave Dean alone. Your smile dropped in a matter of seconds when you noticed your shirt — your dirty, bloody shirt that was supposed to be in the laundry,, in the grasp of Dean's hand.

“S'that..” you inquired slowly, squinting your eyes. “Is that my shirt?” You tilted your head to the side, your shoulders slumping. Why would Dean have your shirt in the first place?

“wh—” he looked down at his hand, practically baffled. Once Dean realized you had seen the piece of clothing, his grip tightened. “What? N— no, no that's mine.” He tried hiding it behind his back slowly.

“Dean, that's my shirt.” You pointed out, your facial expression going blank. “Were you-” you paused mid sentence, trying to take in the new information. “Were you jerking off to me?” Your tone had gotten a tad bit more serious.

“Huh?” He turned his head to look at you, wondering if he heard your question right. “No! No way! What in the world are you talking about?” His tone was defensive as he sat up more straight.

“Wait, scratch that. You were jerking off to a guy?” The look on your face was priceless, absolutely stunned. You knew you caught him, he was in a pinch. He wouldn't get out of this easily. “Since when are you so accepting of your attraction to men?”

“Hold on, does that mean you find me attractive? Am I attractive to you, Dean?” You fixed up your shirt, trying your best to look presentable. “Am I hot enough to get you off? Hm?” That same grin crept back on your face. Being friends with Dean was one thing, annoying and teasing the absolute shit out of him was another. You loved every minute of it.

Dean's gaze shifted to the floor, the feeling of heat cursing through him. Was he getting embarrassed? No, he had to come up with something to derail this conversation.

“You're being fucking ridiculous, [Name], get the hell out.” Dean made eye contact with you, trying to keep his poker face up.

“Awh, is my poor princess embarrassed to be caught jerking off to a guy?” You cooed, walking into the room and closing the door behind you. “You know damn well that it is my shirt.” You spoke, making your way towards Dean. Before the other could respond, you reached around and snatched the shirt.

You held it up, taking a proper look. “Yep,” You nodded with an affirming tone. “It is, in fact, my shirt.” Dean looked away from you, eyebrows furrowed as he huffed, clearly annoyed or even embarrassed. “Fuck off, out of my room, now.” He commanded, his voice ever-so slightly shaky.

“Ay, what the hell? I caught you jerking off to me, and now you're trynna kick me out?” You tilted your head to the side, throwing the shirt onto the ground. “Come on, I gotta know if you're in love with me or not,” you pushed further, your tone firm.

Dean scoffed as he laid back down with a small thud, the blanket still covering his lower half. He brought his arm up to his face, covering his eyes. “No. M'not. Get out,” Even though Dean denied it, his tone didn't seem that confident or convincing.

“You want me to get out and leave my shirt so you can continue jerking off to me? Orrr,, perhaps, there's a chance you want me to stay and get the real deal?” You didn't give it up, how could you? Dean Winchester, an absolute ladies man, trying to get off to his friend, a guy.

“What are you talking about??” He asked in an almost offended tone, taking his arm off of his face to look at you.

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Deep breaths and groans filled the silent room, your hands gripping his firm thighs as you slowly pushed your cock in. Both of Dean's legs were over your shoulders. “Shit.. t'feels weird,” He breathed out, his left hand resting atop of yours, right hand freely on the bed itself.

“Yeah, well, now you know how a woman feels when you fuck her ass.” You said in a taunting tone, not taking your eyes away from your lower half. The sight of your cock slowly disappearing in his entrance - god.

Dean muttered something out that was followed by a grunt, his hand gripping the sheets underneath the two of you a little. “Jesus Chr— ist..” His voice faltered mid-word, eyelids fluttering shut. “Relax, Dean, relax. You're doin' good,” You encouraged him in a gentle manner, rubbing circles on his thighs with your thumbs to soothe him - calm him down.

“I am- relaxed.” He grumbled out, letting out a small wince. “Wouldn't say it feels like that,” You leaned down a bit, pushing on Dean's legs. Soon enough, you fully bottomed out. “Need a moment?” You asked, eyes flickering all over Dean's torso. “You take me for a wimp?” He said breathily, opening his eyes to make eye contact with you.

Once you looked into Dean's eyes, you got so lost. He looked breathtaking like this, the look in his eyes - full of lust, neediness and want, the glossiness of them. His slightly furrowed eyebrows, clenched jaw, his hand on yours,, the hand gripping the sheets.. so perfect. All of him was perfect. “Fuckin' hell..” You muttered out, moving your left hand to Dean's cock, very slowly jerking him off.

“Mff-..mm.” Soft noises escaped his mouth, followed by a sigh of content. Your touch stimulated him to no end. “You never got to cum, right? I interrupted you,” You spoke in a delighted tone, a smirk plastered on your face. “Why don't we finish off what you started, huh?” Your hand's pace had quickened with your sentence as Dean tilted his head back, his blinking getting more frequent and excessive.

“Fuckkkk..” He said, his voice quiet and low. His breath hitched in his throat for a short moment as you started slowly thrusting in and out. Agonizingly slowly. “Did you grab my shirt from the laundry?” You questioned suddenly, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes. “Cause it was dirty, you know, I'm curious.” You added, a grin flashing across your face.

“Mmh— nhgggh!—” Dean breathed out simple whines and whimpers. You were not sure if he even heard you, your thrusting getting more rhythmic and deeper. It was all new to the other - he'd usually do the fucking. “Hey Dean-oooo, I asked you a question baby,” You cooed, thumb rubbing over the slit of his dick, putting pressure on it. “Son of a bitch— shit!” He pressed his head back into the pillow, hand gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. Dean had a hard time not squeezing your hand as well.

You moved your hand, intertwining your fingers together as you pushed his arm, making his forearm rest beside his head, pressing his hand into the mattress a bit as you propped yourself up. “Breathe Dean, jeez,” You said with a small breathless scoff, your other hand pumping his cock continuously. “Sh— shut up,, I hate y..you, hhgg!-” Dean managed to speak, his sentence truly holding no malice or hostility behind his tone of voice, moving his head to the side and letting out a hiss at the feeling of your cock inside him. “Do you?” The grin never left your face. “Not only did I catch you jerking off to me, or my clothes rather, but you're letting me fuck you as well. That speaks volumes to me baby,” You shifted on your knees, finding a completely new angle. You pushed in, reaching deep. With that, Dean choked out a gasp, his eyes shooting open as he arched his back off of the bed slightly.

Almost immediately Dean let go of the sheets, bringing his hand to his mouth, covering it. He let out a couple muffled moans, really starting to sweat. Your thrusting pace quickened. It was harsh and deep. “You feelin' shy? We're alone, no one's gonna hear you, Dean.” You mumbled, looking down at your hand jerking him off. His cock twitched, leaking precum. You let out a groan at the feeling of Dean clenching around you.

At this point Dean was seeing stars behind his eyes, the feeling was entirely new to him yet it felt so good. Too good, maybe. He whimpered against his hand, his thighs tensing as they shuddered. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, not exactly directed towards him. You removed your hand from his cock and grasped his wrist, removing his own hand from his mouth so he wouldn't muffle his moans anymore. You pinned it next to his head on the mattress, almost the same as his other hand.

Of course Dean tried resisting being pinned, but you did all of that while fucking him mercilessly and relentlessly. “oh- ah! fucckk—” He bit down on his bottom lip to try and suppress his moaning. You suddenly hit his prostate with a harsh thrust, earning a loud whine from Dean, his one hand clenching into a fist, the other squeezing yours. “Nnh! Shit! Yes yes yes, just like that-” he rambled out, his chest rising and falling with each breath that he took, his lips parted.

His legs started trembling over your shoulders, toes curling. You let a soft groan leave your lips, leaning your body down again, Dean's knees inches away from his chest. He seemed more flexible than you thought. “Yeah? Feels good, doesn't it?” You said in a confident tone, letting out a soft sigh of content, your thrusts ever so slightly losing rhythm.

“Ghhh— pleaseee, pleasepleaseplease,” He whined, his muscles tensed visibly as his body spasmed, shaking his head. You abused his prostate, most likely bruised it as well. Dean squirmed underneath you, his arms aching - couldn't put his hands where he wanted with you pinning him to the bed. His cock throbbed as it was lightly pressed between the both of your abdomens. “w- I'm close! shit! i'm so close!-”

“Go on, cum for me, you've been so good,” You praised him in a softer voice, trying to keep up the same fast pace just to push Dean over the edge. His eyes shut tight, pushing his arms up in an attempt to free himself. As you noticed this, you let go of both of his hands and he almost instinctively wrapped them around your neck, pulling you in as close as possible. Without any further warning, Dean came, making a mess on his own stomach. He choked out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, panting afterwards, eyebrows only stitching together further.

“There we go, good boy,” You murmured, gasping softly as Dean's walls tightened around you. He was starting to get a bit overstimulated with the way you continued pounding into him after he came. One hand of Dean's gripped your shirt, the other holding onto the back of your neck. You felt your own climax nearing.

“Mmhhh,” You hummed out, placing open-mouthed kisses on Dean's neck as a way to distract yourself a little. You ended up only chasing your own orgasm, your cock twitching inside Dean's hole. He shuddered, fingers tangling in your hair, slightly pulling on the locks. “There- there, right there-” Dean moaned out, his voice hoarse and raspy, trying to ride down his own orgasm.

Your hips stuttered, slowly breaking the pace. You were close, almost ready to pull out. Dean felt slight emptiness near his prostate due to you not pushing back in and he whined. “N— no, no, inside, come inside.” Dean rasped out, holding you close to him. You raised an eyebrow at this, nonetheless complying with the other's request. “Fuck Dean, you're kinky,” you joked, pushing your cock all the way in.

His legs continued to shake, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “g-god,” Dean managed to speak through the string of moans and whimpers he let out. With one harsh final thrust and a groan, you came inside Dean, the warm liquid pooling inside him. He let out a shaky sigh, his grip on you loosening. You dropped your head down and leaned your forehead on Dean's shoulder, relaxing. “This fulfilled your expectations of me?” you asked, clearly out of breath. “Or do you wanna go again?” You whispered, your hands moving to remove Dean's legs from your shoulders, lowering them and making them wrap around your waist.

Dean paused as you lifted your head back up again, looking down at him. He made eye contact with you, his eyes ever so slightly teary. “You think you got enough stamina for another round?” He mocked you, his panting very audible, voice quieter than usual. “You're a little shit,” You chuckled, shifting your position to a sitting one. “You're getting what you asked for,” with a tight grip on his hips, you started moving again.

[reigningqueenofwords]

Minecraft and a Winchester

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 1,645

Read on AO3

You were currently laying on your stomach on your bed, legs bent, and crossed at the ankles. Your eyes were fixated on the screen across from you. You’d found a used XBox for extremely cheap online, and it had come with a few games. Need for Speed, Left 4 Dead, and Minecraft. You had enough blood and gore hunting, so you opted to put Left 4 Dead to the side for the time being. Minecraft caught your attention because it looked like something that you could zone out and play. It didn’t require much, or at least that’s what you were guessing. You never guessed that you would get hooked, let alone so quickly.

You were, though.

Dean walked in your room, watching you for a moment. “What the hell are you playing?” He asked.

Glancing over your shoulder for a minute, you wondered how long he had been standing there. “Minecraft.” You said simply, chopping down another tree.

“And what’s the point? All I see is a bunch of blocks and you hitting things. Boring things.” He pointed out.

You let out a sigh and sat up. Patting the bed next to you, you figured he’d end up just making fun or you forever, but could at least show him. “I’m not sure how to explain the point. I mean, I’m not on adventure or anything. I could change the settings and monsters would attack sometimes. I’m just messing around. You gather supplies, build things.” You told him.

He raised his eyebrow at you and sat down on the floor next to your bed. “Here.” You said after you exited your game and created a new one for him. “You try.” He hesitated for a moment, but looking at your smile, he gave in.

“Let’s see what this is all about.” He said, kicking off his shoes and getting comfortable. You watched him, seeing his profile. The only time you really saw him peaceful was in his sleep. Part of you hoped that this would be something else he could do to get his mind off things. Even if he found it stupid. Sitting back against the headboard, you crossed your legs at the ankle. Pulling out a book from your night stand, you pretended to read. Every now and then you’d actually glance down and read a couple lines, however. You were content just watching him over the top of your book. You held back a chuckle when you saw a look of frustration on his face. “Problem, Dean?” Your voice was teasing.

Pausing it, he shot you a look. “I need to make a damn bed, but I can’t figure out what the hell I need. What is that white stuff?” He pointed to the screen.

You gave him an amused glance. “That would be wool, babe.” You teased. Realizing what you said, you turned a light pink. “You kill sheep for them. Cows for leather. You get the idea.” Being under his gaze made you shift slightly. “I’m going to get us something to drink.” Scooting off the bed, you adjusted your shorts slightly.

Hurrying out of the room, you ran into Sam. “Have you seen Dean?”

“Uh, yeah, he’s in my room. What’s up?” Your hands were on your hips.

“Do I even want to know what you guys are up to?” He smirked, making your face even redder.

“He’s playing Minecraft on my XBox. Perv.” You shot back. “Anyways, I’m going to get us a drink. Go on and bug him.” He knew that you were joking with him, and he ruffled your hair with his hand. Chuckling, you pushed his hand off.

You walked past him, trying to fix your hair. You didn’t care that it looked messy, but if it got too bad, you’d be untangling it for ages. Your bare feet moved towards the kitchen as you willed your cheeks to cool off. Standing in front of the fridge, you enjoyed the cool air. You grabbed a couple beers and a bag of candy you had stashed behind some of Sam’s health foods. You knew that Dean would never look there. Smirking, you made your way back to your room.

Hearing the boys talking, you slowed your walking. “Are you honestly enjoying this game?” You heard Sam. Stopping right outside, you leaned against the wall.

“I don’t really care either way. I mean, I kinda get why she gets into it…but I wouldn’t go out of my way to play.” Dean replied. “It’s just nice getting to relax with her.” He admitted, making you smile.

“You got it bad.” Sam laughed. “Ow.” Just by that you knew that Dean had punched him in the arm. Shaking your head, he sighed. Deciding to save Dean, you gave it a second and then walked in.

Handing Dean a beer, you resumed your previous position. Sam just watched you guys. “Are you two done having a gab fest in my room? Or do I need to relocate to one of yours?” You teased, tossing a piece of candy at Dean’s head. “Preferably Sam’s.”

“Hey!” Dean said, swatting the air. “Where’d you get the candy?” He asked, grabbing the piece that you threw at him.

Grinning, you shook your head. “Like I’m giving that up.”

“And what do you mean that you’d prefer Sam’s room?”

“Dude. You don’t realize how much sound carries, do you?” You asked, sticking a lollipop in your mouth. “Between your porn, which is extremely fake, mind you, and the chicks you bring home- who are worse than the porn- I don’t know which is worse.” Sam choked on a laugh. “Which, I’d rather not talk about anymore. I’ve tried to block out those sounds.” You shrugged. “If you aren’t gonna play, gimme back my controller.” Your hand reached out for it.

He held it away from you. “No! I’m still playing.” He sounded like a big kid. “And you insulted my room.” He added, un pausing the game.

“Okay, I’m going to leave you guys to argue about the sounds that come out of Dean’s room and I’m going to go to a movie or something. Anything away from here.” Sam said, getting up. “I don’t want to be here when you guys recreate them.”

Your face turned bright red again. It was doubtful that Dean saw you as anything more than a friend, hell, a sister even. Sighing, you put the bag of candy on the night stand. The only thing you could hear in your room were the game, and you sucking on the lollipop.

After a few minutes, Dean broke the silence. “You don’t really hear all that much…do you?” He asked.

“Yeah, I do.” You replied quietly. “Too much.” Around your room you had a few pairs of headphones. This way, no matter what, you could block out the sounds.

“Does that bother you?”

Rolling your eyes, you shifted slightly. “No. Of course not. Hearing my friend get laid in the other room doesn’t bother me at all.” Your voice was dripping in sarcasm. “You’re a grown man. Sleep with whoever you want.”

Dean sighed. “That’s not what I meant, Y/N/N.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what you mean? I’m not a mind reader.”

“I mean…does it bother you in general? To know that I’m sleeping with someone else?”

Your eyes widened. How were you supposed to answer that? His tone gave no indication as to what answer he was looking for. If you said ‘yes’, would that make things weird? If you said ‘no’, would you disappoint him? The question rolled over and over in your mind. “Yes.” You whispered.

Dean set the controller on the ground and moved. Your legs were shifted so one was over his lap, and the other was against his hip on the bed. “Why does that bother you?”

“Are you playing with me right now?” You snapped, hurt evident in your eyes. “Why else would it bother me? If you’re just in here to make fun of me, I think you should get out.” Your tone was firm, but hurt. Closing your eyes, you swallowed, willing your eyes not to water.

You felt Dean shift, and your legs were suddenly no longer on him. Listening for the door, you shifted to lay on your back more. You kept your eyes shut, a few tears falling down your cheeks. “I’m not playing with you.” Your eyes shot open at his voice. He was standing next to your bed, hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry you think that. I’m sorry that you think that I would do something like that. I just didn’t think you’d ever be interested in me.” He shrugged. Turning, he moved towards the door.

“Dean, wait.” You said. Getting off your back, you kneeled at the end of you bed. He walked over to you and you took his hand. “I’m sorry. I ju-it just sounded like you were trying to make fun of me.” You sighed playing with his fingers. “Stay with me? Only if you want to. We could keep playing this, or I have Need for Speed. Maybe a movie?” Your voice was hopeful. “I’m not asking for some promise of a relationship or anything, but let’s just see where this goes.”  

Smiling, he kissed you. “I like that idea. How about we see how badly you suck at racing games?” He teased.

Feigning shock, you put your hand on your chest. “Are you challenging me, Winchester?”

“I most certainly am.”

The next morning when Sam came in, he found you with your head on Dean’s chest, controller on the floor, Dean resting against the headboard, his controller on his lap. Looking at the TV, he laughed when he saw the leader board. Y/N was in most of the slots.

[holylulusworld]

Wrong scent (3)

Summary: You’re beta and Dean is scared of hurting you. Right?

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Characters: Rowena, Sam Winchester

Warnings: angst, mentions of rejection, a/b/o, scenting, true mates, possessive alpha, slick, mating, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before…you know the drill), knotting, Dean has a big dick, a little crack, unintended voyeurism, Rowena is a little perv

<< Part 2

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

“Fuck, you smell like the most delicious thing I’ve ever smelled in my whole life,” Dean tugs at your clothing. He growls and purrs while unbuttoning your pants. “I’m gonna make you mine.”

He smirks as you watch him shove your pants down your legs. “Dean, what’s wrong with me,” you immediately put your left hand down your panties to toy with your clit. When you move your hand out of your panties it’s glistening with your slick. “Oh—fuck! I’m leaking.”

“Damn, yes.”

You squeak when Dean grabs your wrist to bring your hand to his lips. He takes your fingers in his mouth, licking the slick off of your digits.

Dean groans as he tastes you on your fingers. “Omega,” you shudder when his glowing orbs focus on your face. “You’re mine. All of you is mine.”

You lick your dry lips. It feels like your body heat is rising per second. You don’t know if it’s Dean or your new presentation. But your pussy is throbbing in need. “Dean…hurry up.”

“Lemme just get your pants down your legs.”

It looks almost comical when Dean fights to drag your pants down your legs and get your shoes off your feet at the same time. “Fuck, get off…fucking shoe.”

Your shoes and pants end up on the ground seconds later. Your eyes darken as Dean finally takes his shirt and pants off. He shoves his boxers down his thighs to free his aching cock.

“OH fuck!” you squeak. “How shall this thing fit? That’s a monster.” You point at his cock standing proud against his stomach.

“It will fit, sweetheart,” he growls. “I’ll put all of it inside of your sweet cunt and make it my home. I’ll never not put my knot inside of you.”

You would giggle at his caveman behavior but your omega purrs in delight as the alpha crawls on top of you. “Dean.”

“I’ve got you, ‘mega,” he cages you with his body and tilts his head to capture your lips in a messy kiss. Dean can barely think straight but tries to take things slow. You never took a knot before, and he doesn’t want to scare or hurt you. “Your body knows what you need. Just let me make you feel good.”

“Yes,” you breathe against his lips. “Dean…please. I want to feel you.”

Dean playfully nudges your cheek with his nose. “You will feel me for days, Y/N,” he purrs against you. “I’ll ruin you for any other man. No one will want your sweet cunt after I’m done with you.”

He ruts his aching cock against your slicked sex. Dean wiggles his hips to nudge at your entrance. “Dean, please…don’t toy with me.”

“I wouldn’t dare to deny my omega,” he kisses you again, slower, and sweet this time. “She deserves getting her pussy pounded.”

He slowly slips the tip in; aware your body is not used to an alpha’s cock. “Fuck, you’re so thick. It won’t fit.”

“I told you,” he growls now, “we will make it fit. You are going to take all of me.”

You purr in response and tilt your head in submission. Dean takes the opportunity to bury his face in your neck. He nips and sucks at your mating gland while moving back and forth to slowly feed you with his cock.

“Dean,” you whine and wrap your arms and legs around him. You wiggle your hips, hoping to help your alpha slide into you. “Fuck…”

Your nails dig into the muscles of his back when he finally bottoms out. Dean grunts and huffs in your neck. “You’re so tight. I can’t…shit…I won’t last long.”

“Shit, you were right,” you whimper as he tilts his hips. His thick cock stretches your walls wider than anyone before and you don’t know if he will be able to move.

Your walls quiver around him, and you are sure you ended up in heaven when Dean finally starts to slide in and out of you at a slow pace. He grunts and mutters something about your cunt, but you are too lost in bliss to even care that he gives your cunt nicknames.

“Deancave…that’s your pussy’s name from now on,” he’s picking up the pace, knees digging into the mattress to give him more leverage. Dean falls into an easy rhythm. “I’m gonna fill this cunt up, and mark it with my cum. No other guy will ever touch you again.”

“De-al,” you shudder underneath your alpha, moaning and whining as your walls start to clench around him.

He pants into your neck. “This will feel odd now,” he purrs against you as his knot slowly expands.

If you felt full before, now you feel like you got double stuffed. Your walls strain against his expanding cock, as you wonder if a cunt can burst.

You close your eyes, relax your body, and let Dean guide you through this new experience. He whispers soft words in your ear and stills his hips. His warmth fills your womb, and his strong arms wrap around your trembling body.

“I’ve got you, Y/N. You did so well for me,” he presses his lips to your forehead. “It’s all good. You are good. I love you.”

“What do you mean, Rowena?” Sam takes two steps at once to get to you and his brother as fast as possible. “ROWENA! Y/N is gone. Dean too. Where are they?”

“I told you to pick them up, not ask questions, Samuel,” Rowena chuckles. “They are fine. You will see when we get there.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Isn’t that your brother’s line?” Rowena coos as she guides Sam toward the bedroom at the villa she occupies at the moment. “I thought you are the smart and sensitive one.”

“Stop distracting me,” the alpha snarls. “If you hurt one of them…”

Rowena pushes the door open, chuckling as Sam gasps audibly. He covers his eyes and scrunches up his nose as his brother is busy mounting you from behind.

“Sammy, hey…uh—some privacy would be nice,” Dean pants. “Get out! NOW!” He growls. “This is not some live porn!”

“Sorry…uh—sorry,” Sam turns around and flees out of the room. Rowena, though, watches Dean cover your body to rut into you.

“ROWENA!” the younger brother yells. “Out!”

“Don’t be a spoilsport Samuel. I always had a thing for alphas…” she dips her head and hums before finally turning around to leave the room. “My job is done. You can pick them up later…”

“Never. Ever. Do I want to see your naked ass again,” Sam grumbles while driving the Impala. Dean refused to let you go. You are currently cuddling in the backseat as his brother mutters under his breath.

“We didn’t ask you to burst through the door, Sammy,” Dean points out. “Next time, knock. Now drive us back home. My omega is tired.”

You rest your head on Dean’s lap and yawn. His eyes drop to the mark on your neck. The one he left when he knotted you for the last time.

“What happened, Dean?” Sam asks.

“I found my heaven, Sammy. That’s what happened…”

Tags in reblog.

[herstarburststories]

Calamitous Love

Paring: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean shows up at your house, but this is a calamitous love. Sooner or later, it's going to destroy.

A/N: I was based and inspired by so many things to get this ready, I can't even start pointing them here. This started as something and escalated to something else, and I'm immensely in love with how it is now. I'm posting a version of this through Dean's POV soon. The prompt is bolded and its for @tvdspngirl314's bday challenge! Hope you like it, honey! And happy bday.

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, fluff, angst, dean is a perv in a cute way, s1 dean Ily

Dean Winchester could easily remember how mad you were that night, after he purposely came to your party uninvited and stood on the porch talking to all your stupid friends. How the one you called the best out of them had wide eyes when she caught him there, and all the reaction she could get was him winking at her.

The man - who was more like a boy, really - with green eyes that matched your garden knew she would run and rush and breathlessly tell you that he was there.

Of course she did. Inez was never one for keeping secrets. He used to wonder if it was a matter of time for the blonde to spread yours.

Her loose lips were useful that night, though. He couldn't even finish his chatter about Chevrolet versus Toyota cars with that James guy before you bursted out of the door ferociously. Dean turned around and waited for many things; well-deserved slapping, indignated tears, a sharp scream strident enough to suppress the loud song which vibrated through everyone's skin like veins.

You surprised him once again.

You closed your eyelashes and took a deep breath, as if to control the burning fire behind your thoughts. The Winchester had seen her in arguments before, the whole ‘my mouth is a loaded gun without a trigger’ thing held an entirely new meaning. He knew you wanted to come at him, and Dean wouldn’t put any guilty on you for that. As you walked towards him, his brittle heart raced like one of those chick flick moments he always mocked about - yet, he couldn't help but stare. Your legs looked so good in that light, pretty ass that Dean loved to grab wrapped in a tight red skirt. You had a white tank with cleavage on and your hair was, as usual, free on its widest way. The hunter adored how your brown sea could never seem not to be a mess, and how you made chaos marvelous like a natural. He surely needed that in his life.

Isn’t it all you had been since the very beginning, honestly? Isn’t it what love utterly is when the lights are dim and the weather changes? Cutting right to the bone like a surgeon, you were that one thing, that one hand that would touch Dean’s weary head and make it rest, those unique lips who could whisper tales of hope in the backseat of his car and he could actually believe it. The one, you know, that one person who didn’t make the eldest Winchester feel like he cared more than he was cared for. He often experienced that math problem, dad never seemed to be satisfied enough to be proud of him, and Sam was always talking about how he wanted to leave someday.

‘’Dean.’’ You said and your tone was harsh, a single eyebrow arched with a quiet defying question. The green eyed man wouldn't be shocked if you had called him out before when he was too busy paying attention to you to notice. ‘’Let's go to the garden.’’

And then you grabbed his wrist, sneaking in through the rusting garden gates in the back of your house. Such mere touch put his skin on flames. So many others, mostly monsters or people who were really monsters at heart, already chained his hands and he always broke the cuffs. This time, in your hands, Dean almost wished he could stay put, grounded to something else other than bloody walls and oily guns. He missed you so much. The way your fingers felt on his cheeks, how you'd allow him to kiss every inch of your body, and how you seemed to understand.

Anyway, it wasn't time for him to turn sentimental just yet. Leave it to Sam. 

Dean’s boots were cruel against the grass, walking side by side with your high heels ones. Above all the partying noise, they both were quiet for once, as if they were going into a clandestine meeting.

He hated it.

‘’What the fuck are you doing here?’’ you turned around in a swift move before crossing your arms. It took a lot of self control not to glare at your breast, which is why Dean didn’t. He pictured it wasn’t that bed since he was only glancing for a few seconds and the malicious smirk on his face faded into him licking his bottom lip through the memories of fucking, grabbing and playing with them. You rolled your eyes, impressed by my immature behavior. ‘’Winchester, I asked what you are doing here.’’

Always so dominant in every situation but in bed. He sighed to himself, man, I can’t lose her.

‘’Listen, Y/N/N, I’m sorry.’’

‘’You are sorry? You can take your apologies and put them in your sorry ass till’ they come out of your mouth, Dean.’’ And, of course, stubborn. Dean Winchester wouldn't be so attracted to you in any other way. Frisky women always had the best him.

He groaned, ‘’Y/N, come on, it wasn't like that--’’

You interrupted his reasoning with a laugh empty of joy: ‘’You left me. You just walked away. No calls, no texts, just left. You promised you wouldn't. You said I could trust you.’’

‘’And you can!’’

He wasn’t able to blame you for that. Still, it broke him to hear every casual syllable in raw honesty. Dean would kill for you, and you didn’t even trust him because he ran away without any note, or previous warning, or anything. If only he could do the trick of just opening his mouth and allowing his emotions to come arrive, like Sam did all the time. All he tried to be, his little brother was simply born that way. He could never be like Sammy and you deserved a guy like him. Yet, the bruised man - more like a scared boy, really - remained in front of you. Because, for once, Dean wanted to act selfish and get it what he craved for. Just this once.

‘’To leave? Sure.’’ Nonetheless, you never learned how to read his mind, so you just aim a wry smile at him. ‘’Sorry, pal. I already have my mom to do that.’’

In that moment, every word you said was a stone designed to shatter him, and it was working fatefully. Sometimes, the green eyed hunter wished he was the one being left instead of leaving people behind. But how could you know that? It's the job side effect.

Taking a deep breath, your name is leaving his lips calmly. The most calm he had ever been since my three childhood years. ‘’Y/N…’’

‘’No, Dean.’’ You spoke. Because his forest eyes matched a lot with the grass in your garden under that dim light, almost like he was made to be there and you didn’t think you could do it again; lose him. It was too much.

‘’Dang, woman. I'm trying to explain!’’

‘’No, you are trying to come up with a stupid lie to cover up whatever you were doing for two weeks! I'm not stupid and I know you.’’ You accused, exasperatedly slapping your own tights. You were right, he had showed up to your party with a dumb excuse on his tongue, ready to tell you anything but the truth. Fuck, how the short haired hunter wanted you to have the imaginary money to buy one of his cheap lies. ‘’Tell me the truth. Don't come up with my dad needed help with a car and all that. What happened to you, Dean?’’

‘’I can't tell you.’’ He shrugged in frustration. 

I want to tell you everything, even the details in the corner, the monster in the forest.

You smile sarcastically, ‘’I don't see a fold on your lips.’’

But I can’t.

Dean huffed, pursing his lips. ‘’You would hate me.’’

You would think I’m a crazy liar.

‘’I already do.’’

You can be so violent when hurt. You both have bullets in different body parts, and there you are trying to shoot him. Modern Romeo and Juliet, a hunter romance; they try to kill each other instead of the evil thing.

‘’Y/N, you are gonna think I'm crazy.’’ He wiped his face, exasperated for you to change the subject.

Your lips were shut, the light reflected on you. Dean was glaring at you in a quiet desire for you to stay, to make him stay. But you stand still, looking away with delicate woe contorting your features.

It was clear after a hunt when the hunter should leave the town. And it was clear now that he killed any hope for them that Dean shall do what he usually does after a case. Nodding with a sigh, started to walk away.

But you stopped him.

‘’What are you doing?’’ You, in fact, sounded confused. Dean’s eyebrows knitted together, unsure if you two were having the conversation he thought you were not even one minute ago.

The answer resonated more like a question than anything: ‘’Leaving?’’

Your next words were the equivalent to the three ones he had never dared to say. ‘’I don't want you to leave.’’

Yes, the Winchester’s heart was pouring as fast as it was when he went on his first hunt. Yes, he could hear an old rock song playing when you have that look on your face. Yes, he knew he was acting like Sammy and all his cheesy discourses right now.

Who cares?

Apart from all that, Dean offered you a cocky smile. ‘’What do you want, sweetheart?’’

‘’Kiss me.’’

And he did. You trusted him in the garden and he got you back. Dean kissed you in the porch in front of all your stupid friends, too. And then he kissed you again in my car under the streetlight and in so many other uncountable places.

He was the person who got left a few years after that. As if his sorrow had become the prey for some cosmic joke. Sammy left for Stanford and it made his dad, well, more dad than usual. The weird thing was, inside of the grief of being left, Dean understood what he did to you. He had a lot of blood in his hands, enough to turn an ocean red if he ever tried to clean them, but I knew that leaving you was the worst thing that I had ever done.

Well, at least that was what two bottles of Whiskey helped him to get to.

Dean guessed he got what you felt on your porch that night as well. When he walked in, you knew you'd forgive him but you needed to sting back. As Sam left, his older brother already knew he'd forgive him, too. Dean fought about it, and I felt betrayed- wounded animals still attack. But he had forgave him the moment he missed him.

You forgave Dean too, and nowadays he resented for that with an insufferable regret. Because then he told you the truth about the world and showed you his scars. He kissed you, and your lips found every ugly in him. Still, they kept asking him for more. Your lips were the bed for my monster to sleep under.

Real monsters found them.

A few years later, the trio was in a town. You had a vacation from college - you dated a hunter with 5 bucks to his name, and you were studying journalism in a conceited university. It made no sense to Dean sometimes. All you asked for was to spend your free time with him and a call each night to make sure he was alive, which he gave you happily. Besides finding a way to go near your city at least once a month, more for himself than anything else. How did he get so lucky?

You liked certain aspects of the hunter life, surprisingly. The driving away, the creatures, even the restaurants. ‘’Come on, you guys hunt monsters. How cool is that? Also just driving, eating in a new place everyday. Did I mention monsters are real? You guys are like heroes!’’

He shook his head at your optimism, stroking your naked form gently that night.‘’We aren't here, Y/N. This life, it ends early and bloody. There is no place for white fancies and normal.’’

‘’Who said that I want that?’’ You mocked right before pressing your lips to the hickey on his neck, gaining a content groan from Dean. ‘’You monsters. As far as I'm concerned, you are a hero. My hero.’’ You add a subtle joke. ‘’Like a fairytale.’’

He scoffed and pulled you closer. ‘’More like a horror movie.’’ 

‘’Haven’t you read fairytales?’’ 

‘’No, but I did see the porn version.’’ Done with talking, he got on top of you, wearing that lopsided grin that started it all over again.

Years back, he asked you what you wanted. And you said, kiss me.

You kept saying that for a decade. Growing that calamitous love, feeding it with stolen glances and touches. If you knew what’s next, would you do it again?

Now you are laying on the ground as he got on my knees and pulled you closer. You are almost dead, a half lifeless body, but you hold on so tight to life, gasping for it. His stubborn girl who he loved so.

Your voice, usually so determined, is barely a whimper. ‘’Everyone wants a fairytale love.’’

‘’What? Don’t get sentimental on me, Y/N. You aren’t gonna die.’’ Dean says exasperated. It isn’t blind faith, unrealistic optimism or anything like this. It’s denial, one of the stages of grief he’s familiar with. It lives with him, as loyal as a dog, as present as a long lost mother’s love; he ignores the acceptance and hope, jumping right into anger, guilt, denial, and bargains with the devil. As if death is a champagne problem he can just drink and be done with because hey, if you can’t lose something, then you won’t right? Right? And if you do lose it, then you’ll just die too. Someone loses oxygen, they die. Someone loses too much blood, they die.

He will die if he loses you, he will. Dean is devastatingly sure of that. He can feel it in his bones. If you die, he dies. His body, his cicatrized soul was made out of in woe. That man - scared little boy like he was when Mary died, really -, He knows sadness like an old lover who always visits, and death is an old friend who always shakes his hands and appears without an invite. Dean Winchester knows pain, alright? Ask any person, he’s the Rome for men, built in ruins despise the beauty of good.

But this? No. He can’t survive. It isn’t possible that someone can hold so much suffering and agony. Skin and bone can only take so many hematomas. 

‘’Dean, shut up.’’ You place your hand on his cheek and Dean can’t help but lean in. His green eyes are glistening, the memory of the garden reminiscing in the back of your mind. ‘’I’ve wanted a fairytale love since I was a kid and my dad used to read the books my mom left on the shelf for me. So, in my defense, I never actually read them.’’

‘’Is this what a fairytale looks to you?’’ The eldest Winchester asks, not missing how your touch is colder against him. Where’s Sam with the car? Where’s a miracle? Where’s the justice and fair things and anything good? Dying in his arms, sinking her fingernails into his skin.

‘’The original ones, yes. They are just like that.’’ You chortle, but what’s meant to sound like happiness develops into a cough. All the energy and strength you have are used to push the words. You need Dean to know. ‘’I don't regret anything. You loved me, and I loved you. This is good. I don’t want your silly little mind to think any other way. You aren’t the villain in my story, Dean. You are the…’’ You’re interrupted by your own body giving up on you at an alarming rate, more bloodstained coughing.

‘’Don’t speak, honey. You’ll be alright, okay? No goodbye, we don’t do goodbye. You’ll be alright. Just keep yourself awake, ok?’’ Dean doesn’t know what to do other than hold you. What does one do with all the throbbing aches? He can’t say he will see you in heaven if you die. Staying with you for ten years was heaven already and this is the price he pays. That’s like when the ocean drains in a flash right in front of your eyes and someone tells you to swim in the sky instead. He can’t jump high enough to get it, he isn’t tall enough to get it. But God, Dean can’t just give up, he can’t just let you go. You are bleeding out and he’s dying with you. ‘’Please.’’ The Winchester pleas. ‘’Don’t leave me. Please.’’

If this is how you die and you can only pick up some words to say, you need to spell love. You need Dean Winchester to know he was loved with your last breath, there’s no better use to life other than love. Therefore, it’s easy to know what to voice when you look into his eyes one last time. ‘’I love you.’’

Through the agony, Dean gives you the sort of smile... You know, the sort of smile that can only be described by I put my home on fire, so I could eat all the flames and all the bright blaze is in my teeth now. Because something is burning and you are becoming ashes, but you love this. You love that boy and he loves you. You’d do it all again. He rests his forehead against yours and you can feel his tears on your face, his hands holding you for dear life.

‘’I love you too.’’

It’s a good thing to hear as you close your eyes.

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[laxuscouldnever]

Dean Winchester x Male!Reader

*18+ Content Warning

Y/N woke up to a muscular arm draped across his chest. He looked over to the sleeping man next to him and smiled.

He had met Dean a few years ago on a hunt. Y/N was working as a "FBI agent" and the boys had figured him out quite easily. He joined the boys on their journey and him and Dean had connected almost right away.

They didn't mean to start dating, they were hunters, that kind of stuff doesn't work out. But a few drinks later, the two of them woke up, naked, in Dean's bed. They didn't talk to each other for almost a week. Just until Dean got irritated with himself and confronted Y/N. Of course, that led to sex as well.

That was just over a year ago. Dean meant everything to Y/N and vice versa.

"Dean...get up." Y/N said, turning on to his side. He ran a hand through Dean's short hair.

"Mm." Dean groaned.

"Come on, wake up." Y/N said. 

"Let's just lay here. I wanna sleep some more." Dean whined. Y/N smiled. 

"Fine, I'll get up by myself. I'm sure Sam is up and he's a lot more interesting than you. He might even have a job already." Y/N said. He pulled Dean's arm off of him and climbed out of bed. 

"You're so irritating, you know that?" Y/N joked. 

"Only to you."

Y/N walked sleepily into the kitchen. He was right, Sam was up and sitting at the table. 

"Morning, Sam." Sam looked up from his computer. 

"Morning, Y/N. Where's Dean?" he asked. 

"Where do you think?" Y/N said as he walked over to the refrigerator. 

"Lazy bastard." Sam mumbled under his breath. Y/N hardly heard it and chuckled.

"Got anything?" Y/N asked, sitting down across from Sam at the table. 

"I think so. There was a few people that were supposedly killed by bears, but the catch is that they're all missing their hearts." Sam explained. 

"Werewolves are so weird. Why take just the heart when there's plenty of organs to eat? Is it some sort of diet?" Y/N wondered aloud. 

"There's something seriously wrong with you." Sam joked.

Dean eventually woke up and found his way to the kitchen. He saw Sam and Y/N sitting at the table, talking about a case. 

"You got something this early?" Dean complained, sitting next to Y/N at the table. 

"Dean, it's almost noon." Sam pointed out. 

"Yeah, that's early." Dean stated. Y/N just rolled his eyes. 

"Where's it at?" Y/N asked. 

"Minnesota. Which means it's going to be cold, so pack warm." Sam said, closing his computer and leaving to his room.

"I can keep you warm." Dean said into Y/N's ear. 

"You're a perv." Y/N said, playfully pushing Dean's face away from his. 

"Yeah, but you like it that way."

~Time Skip~

The three boys pulled into the parking lot of a beat up motel. 

"This place looks like he could give me AIDs." Y/N said from the backseat. 

"You could say the same about Dean." Sam said, getting out of the car and walking to the front desk, leaving Dean offended. 

"Aw, babe, don't feel bad. You don't have AIDS," Dean smiled over at his boyfriend, "you have HPV, but I still love you." Dean's smile faded. 

"I hate the both of you." Y/N smiled.

Dean and Y/N watched as Sam motioned for them to come to the room. 

"Alright, you two can stay here and figure out what's going on," Sam handed Y/N a folder, "I'm going down to the police station to talk with the chief." Dean handed Sam the car keys and the two went into the room.

It was a two-bed room with a table and chairs and a small kitchen. There was an old TV in the corner of the main living area. Dean looked at the TV guide on the stand between the beds. 

"Casa Erotica? You wanna watch?" Dean smirked over at the other man. Y/N rolled his eyes as he walked over to the bathroom. 

"You're gross." he said.

As Y/N stood in front of the sink, washing his face, he felt a strong pair of arms wrap around his waist. Dean left kisses on Y/N's neck and nibbled on the sensitive spot right behind his ear. 

"D-Dean..." Y/N let out a soft moan. 

"That's what I like to hear." Y/N could practically hear the smirk in Dean's voice.

Dean's hands traveled from Y/N's waist down to the button his pants, undoing them. Dean reached his hand down Y/N's pants and began rubbing him through his boxers. Y/N let his body relax and lean against Dean. 

"You're such a good boy." Dean's hot breath hit against Y/N's ear, making the smaller man moan.

"D-Dean, I," Y/N moaned. 

"Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you." Dean whispered into Y/N's ear, his hand still rubbing Y/N's hard cock through his underwear. 

"I want you to," Y/N blushed, "fuck me." he finished off with a soft voice. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear that last part." Dean teased. He started scattering hickeys on Y/N's neck, making it just that much harder for Y/N to tell Dean what he wanted. 

"I w-want you to f-fuck me." Y/N breathed out in between moans. 

"Your wish is my command."

Dean pulled his hand out of Y/N's pants and pulled him to one of the beds. Y/N laid down on his back and let Dean take the lead. Dean pulled down Y/N's pants along with his boxers. 

"Shirt, off. Now." Dean ordered. Y/N sat up and pulled the t-shirt off, leaving him completely naked. "What a view."

Y/N was sprawled across the old bed, completely uncovered, his face red, and a desperate look in his eyes. 

"Dean, please, touch me." Y/N whined. 

"My pleasure." Dean said. He lowered his head down towards Y/N's dick. He licked the tip softly, looking up at Y/N, taking in the look on his face, begging Dean to stop teasing him. Dean took Y/N's dick into his mouth and started sucking him off.

Y/N reached his hand down and tugged on Dean's hair. 

"D-Dean, that fe-feels really good." he moaned. Dean licked a stripe from the base of his cock all the way to the tip. Dean stood up straight. 

"Dean, why do you still have clothes on?" Y/N questioned. Dean chuckled, but began stripping himself of his clothing. Y/N moaned at the sight of Dean naked. 

"You got lube with you?" Dean asked. 

"In my bag." Y/N panted. Dean walked over to the black duffel bag on the table.

Dean walked back over to the naked man. 

"Turn over onto your hands and knees." Dean ordered. Y/N did as he was told and made sure Dean had complete access to his hole. 

"Relax, it'll be cold, but don't worry." Dean pushed a lubed finger to Y/N's hole, pushing past the first ring of muscle. Y/N let out a small moan at the intrusion. Dean stretched the man out as best as he could with one finger, then added another one. He scissored Y/N open and finally pulled his fingers out when he felt that Y/N was stretched enough.

Dean leaned over and put his mouth next to Y/N's ear. 

"Are you ready?" he whispered. Y/N moaned in response. 

"Tell me, tell me what you want me to do to you." Dean growled. 

"I want you to fuck me, please." Y/N whined. Dean smirked. 

"Good boy." he said. Dean lined his cock up to Y/N's hole and thrusted himself in.

Y/N let out moan after moan as Dean bottomed out inside of him. Dean began to slowly thrust in and out, gaining plenty of small moans out of the man under him. 

"God, after all the times we've done this, you're still so tight." Dean growled out. His pace started to quicken and his thrusts got rougher. 

"D-Dean, harder, please." Y/N pleaded. Dean knew that Y/N kept saying please because he wanted Dean to call him a good boy, it was his favorite thing to hear. Y/N's praise kink was going to be the death of him.

"Look at you, being such a good boy and using your manners." Dean pulled Y/N back so that his chest was against Y/N's back. He wrapped a hand around Y/N's neck and gave it a small squeeze. 

"You're so hard, huh? Is this what you wanted? For me to fuck you?" Dean growled into his ear. 

"Ye-Yes, I want more." Dean reached his hand down to Y/N's hard cock, and started jacking him off.

"D-Dean, I'm close." Y/N moaned out. 

"Me too, but hold it. We don't want to make a mess, now do we?" Dean teased. Dean thrusted a few more times and released into Y/N's hole.

He stayed there for a moment until he heard Y/N whine. He pulled out and laid the man onto his back. He placed the hard cock into his mouth and took it as far as he could. Dean let Y/N thrust into his mouth and use him. Dean looked up and took in the breathtaking sight. Y/N's head was titled back, his face red, soft mewling coming out of his mouth every time his tip hit the back of Dean's throat. Dean loved this look on him, it made him look so innocent and dirty at the same time.

Dean felt Y/N's cock start to twitch in his mouth and started sucking faster. Y/N thrusted hard when he reached his release, letting his cum shoot into the back of Dean's throat. He laid there, spent and panting. Dean swallowed everything and stood up. He walked to the bathroom and grabbed the rag. He wetted it down and walked over to the bed. He began cleaning Y/N up, making sure Dean's release wasn't getting onto the bed.

Once Dean was done cleaning him up, Y/N curled up under the covers, Dean following his actions. Y/N curled up into Dean's side and Dean wrapped his arm around him. 

"You good?" Dean asked, the man next to him still out of breath. 

"Y-Yeah. That was just really good." he panted. Dean let out a laugh. Y/N started to drift off into sleep, Dean following close behind.

When Sam got back to the room, he saw two things. One, he saw a pile of discarded clothes on the floor, and two, he saw his brother and his boyfriend sweaty and fast asleep in their bed. 

"You two are so gross." Sam sighed, picked the discarded folder off of the table and going through it. Sam smiled. He wouldn't have it any other way.

[wonderfulworldofwinchester]

What’s Becca Reading?

Weekly Fic Recs for the weeks of 3-/15-4-5

Thanks so much for being patient! After being  out of town and then recovering from some health issues, I am back! 

As always please feel free to tag me in any fics! I’d love to read them!

If you have any issue with being included in this list, please do not hesitate to reach out. I promise I won’t be offended and your work will be removed promptly.

|  Weekly Recs Masterpost  |

Want to be tagged in upcoming recs lists? Send me an ask or add your self to the What’s Becca Reading? list in this google doc :)

*Yes I’ve been reading the hell out of @tvdspngirl314​‘s work sue me XD * 

Series

------Keeping Up With The Winchesters by @tvdspngirl314

Summary : To take a break from everything, you move into Lawrence, where you meet the Winchester family and work for their bakery. Can you survive with three men constantly hitting on you?

Ship : Dean x reader, Sam x reader, John x reader (platonic)

Warnings : crack, angst (eventual), fluff

Characters : you, Dean, Sam, John, Mary, mentions of few ocs

------Save Yourself by @weasleywinchester

Series Summary: “I promise.” Those two words would trap you in a life you never wanted. You are an artist, a hunter, a Winchester. And yet the pain in Dean’s eyes as demanded you live the life he wants you live, you couldn’t say no. You met the Winchesters by chance, found out they were real people. And you figured it was a once in a life time thing, but then Dean called you, and so did a new job. Both leading to the life you wanted, a family that didn’t begin or end in blood and a once in a life time love. And he said leave it and him behind, forget. But you can’t.

Warnings: None as of now! Eventual Smut, angst (??) Idk I’m new, I don’t know how to do these tumblr writing things!

-----What She Doesn’t Know by @tvdspngirl314

Summary : With his marriage life on rocks, when his ex girlfriend who also happens to be his wife’s sister shows up into his life back again. Will Dean resist her or give into his desires.

Ship : Dean x Lydia (ofc), (eventual) Dean x reader

Warnings : 18+, angst, smut, cheating, a little bit of fluff, relationship drama

---Mechanic and Mistletoe by @deanwanddamons

Summary: Y/N, an ER nurse is driving home to her Mom on Christmas Eve. Her car breaks down on the side of the road. She calls Winchester Singer Autos and Bobby sends Dean to help her. Will she make it to her Mom in time for Christmas? And will she get back home in time for her shift on Boxing Day?

Universe: Mechanic AU

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

Warnings: Slow build, Mechanic AU, Fluff, Smut, Angst. Each chapter will have individual warnings.

----- Supernatural Investigations by @deanxmon​

Detective! Dean Winchester x detective! reader x Liam Harris (o.c)

Synopsis: Detective Winchester and Detective Y/L/N have always been the heart of N.Y.P.D. supernatural investigations. What happens when Dean returns from an investigation in Italy and finds Y/N close to another guy?

Stand Alone

-----Stand By Me by @tvdspngirl314

Summary : Jensen finally decides to confess his feelings for you

Ship : Jensen ackles x F! Reader

Warnings : fluff, a lots of fluff, nervous Jensen

-----You’re Blushing by @soaringeag1e​

Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Swearing? Just a Ton of Fluff!

Words: 3,019

Prompt: "It's cold, you should take my jacket"

----- Calamitous Love by @herstarburststories​

Paring: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean shows up at your house, but this is a calamitous love. Sooner or later, it's going to destroy.

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, fluff, angst, dean is a perv in a cute way, s1 dean Ily

----- Sam Winchester: Glasses by @impala1967dwinchester​

Warnings: Sam because he’s always a warning, the reader fantasizing about Sam, implied smut, the reader has a crush on Sam, Sam playing clueless, little tiny mention of Dean, Dom!Sam, Sub!Reader

Summary: When Sam brings his glasses out to be able to read the lore, the reader does nothing but stare at him.

Word Count: 1.5k

----- What Went Wrong by @sofreddie​

Summary: Dean tries to propose but a misunderstanding ruins everything.

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam

Warnings: Angst, Drinking, Fluff

Word Count: 1,680

Short and Sweet

----- Mine by @girl-of-many-fandoms​

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x ReaderPrompt: "I'm not jealous, I just don't like other men touching what's mine"

Warnings: None

@tillielynn16 , @fandomaskedstuff , @naruko88558855 , @saltysamgirls ,  @hillface89 , @unusualcorn , @trilloku-blog , @perpetualabsurdity , @ria132love , @emoryhemsworth,  @mogaruke , @dramaqueenrolf,  @ghost–facers , @herbologystudent252 ,  @darthhayber , @nj-padackles , @arses21434 , @cassiopeia-barrow , @percussiongirl2017 ,  @gailski1975 , @squirrel-moose-winchester , @waywardbaby , @lebanese-chickpea-blog​ , @hobby27​ , @ogwatergirl , @mystriee​ , @destielhoneybee​ , @buckybarnesisaninnocentman , @alexwinchester23​ , @curly-haired-anxiety , @gh0stgurl​ , @heyitscam99​ , @dean-winchesters-bacon​ , @andkatiethings​ , @fk12b​ , @jaremish​ , @thelovelyoldscentofabookshop​ , @awkwardnesshabitat​ , @I-hear-crazy-calling-my-name , @adoptdontshoppets​ , @spn-tw-37​ , @maddiepants​ , @spnwoman​ , @spnbaby-67​ , @screechingartisancashbailiff​ , @fanfictionismydeath​ , @sarcasticbitch86​ , @baby7879 , @monkeymcpoopoo​ , @shyartnerd564​ , @hobby27​ , @maui137 , @lovealways-j​ , @polina-93​ ,@drakelover78, @dylanlover24 , @magssteenkamp​ , @superweirdnerdalertt​ , @doctorlilo​, @deans-baby-momma

[angelkurenai]

Impossible - Dean Winchester x Reader (French Mistake AU)

Title: Impossible

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Imagine finding out that the two dogs you adopted were Dean and Sam from Supernatural, cursed by a witch and transported to your universe. You spend a long time with them, only for Dean to fall in love with you and to feel torn when he gets back to his human form between staying with you and leaving.

“Boys, I'm home!”

If someone had told you that this would be your life then... you would have totally believed them. Coming home from your part-time job to your own apartment, about to watch the newest episode of Supernatural and savor your favorite pie and burgers which you had just bought, and above all to your two most favorite boys in the world which also happened to be your dogs seemed like the life you actually wanted and got. Speaking of which-

“Sammy!” you grinned as the Australian Sheppard happily made his way from the kitchen towards you. You knelt and he rested his paws on your legs to push himself upwards and lick your cheek before continuing to lick your hands. You giggled, rubbing his head and back, happy to see him wagging his tail. Although he didn't get as excited as your other dog did – oh that one was the epitome of a happy dog, the past couple weeks he had not been feeling well and you were trying your best to make him happy, so it made you feel better to see him go back to his old self.

“How's my boy today? Feelin' any better?” you got a bark in return, and you wrapped your arms around the big dog in a warm hug “I hope that's a yes. Don't worry, big guy, I'm here for you. I've got your favorite treats and after the newest episode of Supernatural we're gonna watch your favorite movie too, ok?” another bark, certainly more cheerful and pulling away you grinned at him “That's my boy. It seems like you and Sam Winchester do really have more things in common than I thought.” you kissed the top of his head “Don't worry, everything will go alright, promise!” you grinned, getting back up on your feet.

You took off your shoes and jacket, looking all around the place with a frown “Hey Sam, where is Dean?”

Usually when you came back from work the second you'd open the door, the German Sheppard was the first thing you saw before your own house. He'd be jumping, practically pushing the door open, and while standing on his two feet he'd be licking the heaven out of you. On many occasions he had knocked you over because of his excitement. Well, at least you could say that Dean Winchester - at least a version of him? - was peppering you with kiss while eagerly awaiting your return every day from work. That was something.

However it didn't seem this would be the case this time. It struck you as off when you didn't hear his happy barking but you thought he had not heard you. However, you actually started to worry when you heard a loud sound come from your kitchen, of something breaking. Your eye widened and before you could realize it, you were making your way towards it in a heartbeat. Nobody could have certainly prepared you for what was to come, though, and just as surprisingly a giggle escaped your lips.

“And what do you think you're doing there mister?” you placed your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow and trying to look as stern as you possibly could; but it was impossible with how adorable he looked while trying to hide the mess he'd made and attempted to look innocent but was clearly guilty.

A small whine came from him as you looked around, taking the scene in front of you. Both the pies you'd bought not a day ago were gone, some leftover burgers and fries gone as well, some noodles and milk spilled on the floor. There were two plastic bottles of water on the floor as well next to the glass you'd just heard break, no wonder having knocked it over the counter. The door of the fridge was still slightly ajar, no wonder him having tried to close it and cover up for the mess he'd made but not fully succeeding. Which would explain how he had not rushed to greet you.

“Dean?” you asked accusingly, voice stern “Did you do all this?” you wouldn't need a verbal answer even if he could give it to you, there was still some filling on his nose from how messily he'd eaten it, but him avoiding eye-contact was more proof too “Dean, look at me.” you said sternly and after a long pause he looked up and gave you a small, cute bark “Oh don't try to play innocent on me. Did you do that?”

His eyes were immediately cast down as he tried to push with his paw one of th empty pie contains under a chair and out of your view but it didn't work as you took a step forward, crossing your arms over your chest “Dean, look at me. Did you cause the mess? Did you eat the pies?” well, he did have more in common with the human Dean after all.

“This is why you didn't come to greet me huh? You were trying to cover up for the mess you'd made.” you said with a raised eyebrow and he let a small whine escape him, he slowly laid down to show his belly as a sign of obedience but you still remained stern, or at least did your damn best to keep a straight face “Oh now you're trying to pull that off huh? You did this hm? Even though I told you to stay away from the pies.”

You tapped your foot, face stern and firm despite how hard it was. He had lowered his ears, his eyes big and pleading – a special bright and beautiful shade of green that looked identical to the man he was named after – soft barks and whining leaving his lips as he wagged his tail. When he saw you weren't caving in, he got up on his feet and made his way to you, nudging on your hip with his head and on your leg with his paw.

“Oh you're apologizing now hm?” you raised an eyebrow “You think those pretty eyes will do it again this time?” you remained as stoic as you possibly could, already having gotten the message across. To say that Sam and Dean were the smartest dogs you'd met in your entire life would be a great understatement, they were so much more than that. Sometimes it felt like you were talking to yourself and you shouldn't expect a reaction, much less answer, from any of them; and yet they always did something to prove you wrong by giving you a sign they understood everything. Or it was probably your own wishful thinking.

“You know what? I don't even wanna know.” you sighed at those puppy eyes “How you managed to open the fridge in the first place is remarkable as it is.” the second the smile formed on your lips his ears perked up. A yelp left your lips when he jumped up and, as per usual, knocked you over. With most of his weight on top of you he started licking you like there was no tomorrow, his tail wagging so fast you could barely see it. Uncontrollable laughter left your lips as he wiggled and tried to nuzzle his nose in the crook of your neck, licking even your jaw and neck in the meanwhile.

“Alright, alright! Dean. Dean!” you squealed, laughing and rubbing his sides and belly “Dean, alright- enough kisses, please, I'm about to get an overdose!”

It took a full minute, and a small bark from Sam you were pretty sure you heard, for him to pull back. He made sure to give you a another lick over the lips, making you laugh as you tried to clean yourself, but certainly not complain.

“Ok ok I sure missed you too, buddy.” you giggled, kissing the top of his head, earning a grin from him - or what you could at least describe as that “Why don't you go and spend some time with Sammy while I clean up the mess you've made? I'll be back with food for you two soon.” you both knew you could never stay mad for too long at him and you were 100% sure he took advantage of it.

He gave you a happy bark and did as told.

~*~

“No, Dean, wait.” you said, ignoring the whining at the other side of the door or how he scratched on it; asking to be let in “Stay” you said patiently, hooking on your bra. But before you could take hold of your shorts, you heard more effort from the other side of the door before the handle shifted and, after a try or two, the door was pushed open, allowing the big German Sheppard to enter.

“Dean!” you nearly screamed, but you didn't know what you were more surprised at. The fact that he managed to open the door, he had done that before, or walked in on while you were getting dressed, got comfortable on your bed and grinned at you, he had again done that before “You perv.” you grabbed a pillow and threw at him, which he effectively caught in his mouth and played with it.

“Don't tear it to pieces.” you said with a chuckle, shaking your head but grabbing your shorts and a T-shirt and wearing them “Getting comfy, ain't ya?” you grinned, making your way to your side of the bed. It had long ago been established as this.

You had found Sam and Dean a little over a year ago, abandoned by the side of the road and in a terrible condition. You couldn't bring yourself to just walk by and, despite how hard you knew it would be (for a person that could barely make ends meet, was all the time busy with work and barely had enough space in the apartment for herself), you immediately gathered them and took them to the vet. Beaten, bruised and malnourished as they were on the road for a couple of days without any food or water, you just felt your heart break for them. They needed someone to give them their fullest of attention to heal and get them back on their feet and as hard as it was for you, it was hardest to let someone else take care of them, so you took up the opportunity.

And just like that, a little over a year later, you'd grown to love them so much you couldn't say goodbye to them. They had become your family, much like the fandom of the show the characters of which they were named after. And it was no coincidence because they were identical to Sam and Dean Winchester in any way possible.

“Wait- where's Sammy?” you looked around when you didn't spot the Australian Sheppard near you, only to peak through the door and find him in the living room sleeping next to his favorite book. You couldn't tell why you'd find him in this state so often lately, because there was no chance he could read a book (even if you'd once or twice caught him looking at pages), but you weren't going to complain if it calmed him down.

“Seems like it's just you and me tonight, buddy.” you yawned, making your way back to your bed, a sigh of content leaving your lips “But I'm telling you-” you got under the blankets, Dean wiggling his way in as well “No Supernatural tonight as much as I'd love it, I'm beat. We'll watch the new episode tomorrow as much as my heart breaks a little over that.” you layed your head on the pillow, your eyes closing for a second “Oh wouldn't I give everything to see Dean Winchester now.” you mumbled “Gosh, would I give everything to see him for real. Just for a hug, just for a sincere thank you for everything he's done for me without even knowing it. Just to let him know... how much worth it he is. I would be the luckiest girl on Earth if I got that chance.”

The show had a special place in your heart, Dean even more so than anyone else. And your dogs very well knew the fact.

You heard Dean bark but couldn't bring yourself to open your eyes as you hummed and snuggled to his side “Yeah, I love you too buddy. I know, you've got his spark, but Dean is Dean.” you whispered, wrapping and arm around him as he cuddled more with you with another lower bark “Mhm don't get jealous, big boy, or possessive, that's totally different. He's Dean Winchester... he's special.”

The last thing you remembered was his body rumbling softly with a bark that never came, before sleep finally enveloped you.

~*~

The first thing you realized when you were pulled slightly out of the darkness of your sleep was the warm body wrapped around you. And even more the lack of warm fur but presence of soft and smooth skin, human skin.

You heard a small although deep and rough groan from beside you. The surface that your head was laying on rumbled softly, earning a small hum from you, but you were too sleepy to realize it wasn't your pillow. You snuggled to the person's side even more, a pair of big and strong arms around your waist made you feel secure and cared for. You heard more sounds, shuffling of your bed sheets, followed by some murmuring and grumbling. It was all in a whispered voice so whoever the person was, they didn't want to wake you up. Your mind however was so fogged up and laced by sleep that it didn't even occur to you to think, in the first place, how someone had found their way into your bed.

And, in all honesty, whatever ability you had – during such a time – to think vanished into thin air when you slowly opened your eyes and saw who the person really was. You blinked slightly, your vision blurry as you struggled to keep your eyes open. It was hard, you could barely understand what was happening in the whole darkness of your room; but even the soft light of the moon outside was enough and you caught yourself smiling when your eyes met those breathtaking green orbs.

“Dean?” you whispered in a low and sleepy voice, the man freezing in his spot. His eyes were wide and it seemed as if he was holding his breath as if he was scared for some reason. “Dean... You're here.” you added in a whisper, your smile growing as you wrapped your arm around his middle as well.

“H-hey sweetheart.” he finally forced out, his voice deep, the nervousness crystal clear. His breathing was heavy and you could hear his heart was racing inside his chest, but you still cuddled more with him, the feeling of his soft skin against your cheek making you smile to yourself again.

“You're a little tense.” you murmured in a small voice “Why?” it was so innocent and simple, as you looked up at him with pouting lips, but it made his heart skip another bit.

“I-” he frowned, licking his lips as he kept opening and closing his mouth with an adorably perplexed look on his face.

“D?” you questioned.

He sucked in a breath, clearing his throat before he forced out a laugh that came out nervous “Well, I'm naked for starters.” he tried to give you a smile but it was awkward and it died out very soon.

“Hmh” you hummed, licking your lips before you nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck “But you're a good naked... as far as I've seen at least.” the giggle that left your lips made his pull into a boyish grin.

“Well, now I'm naked naked. But-” he took in a small breath “Glad you think so.” he whispered, licking his lips that felt so dry, his smile fluttering as a look of awe took place. It never seased to amaze him just how beautiful you were when you were peacefully sleeping next to him, even if he had to be walking on four and you didn't even realize he was more than just a dog that bloody witch had turned him into.

He slowly brought a hand to your cheek, feeling such relief and peace by being able to touch your cheek like any normal human, tucking away a few stray strands when your eyes fluttered close. But it only lasted a moment because as he rubbed his thumb on your cheek, they opened again and you watched him with a sleepy smile and hazy eyes.

“It's so good to see you smile.” you whispered, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek.

Dean tried his best to ignore the crazy leap his heart did and as hard as it was, he forced himself to keep his voice even and his face straight yet gentle “Go back to sleep, princess, you're gonna need it.”

“No” an adorable, to him at least, whine left your lips “No, I don't- I dont' want to, Dean. I just... I want to keep seeing you smile. I just want to keep seeing you calm and relaxed, just lemme please.”

“(Y/n)” the lump in his throat was hard to swallow and with you wrapped around him, the effort to breathe became a struggle.

“Gosh, you should smile more often, it looks amazing on you. You deserve to smile, D. You deserve to be happy, to becalm. You deserve so much... you deserve the world.” you tried to emphasize on each word as much as you could.

“Trust me...” he let out a shaky breath “I'd be the happiest man on the world if I could just have you.”

You smiled, the kind of smile that had made him fall for you. He had long ago come to terms with the fact that he didn't just see you as a friend, or the girl who took care of them when they couldn't fend for themselves or even the chick he'd hit on if he was human from the first moment he met. Sure, he would be drawn to you from the first second – and he had been, because he was fully conscious all this time of everything around him – but after a year he realized that you were much more important to him than any of that. He had feelings for you.

“You deserve so much more. You should have it, you... You're worth so much, Dean.” your arm sneaked around his neck “Gosh, I wish so bad you could know it. I wish so bad I could let you know it... I could show you how good you truly are, Dean. How much good you've really done. How much you mean to me.”

“I know.” he breathed out, the words sounding foreign in his lips for such a subject, but having gotten to know how you saw and thought of him over the past year had made him feel all sorts of things he had not had the chance to before “Believe me, princess, I really know.”

His chest felt as if it was on fire but despite every cell in his body screaming differently at him, as he leaned in, he kissed your forehead. His eyes fluttered shut and a sigh of content left his lips, the lips which lingered on your forehead for longer than appropriate. And then came the hardest of it all “Go to sleep, (Y/n). When you wake up... everything will be better.”

And it would be better because he'd be gone, leaving you to live a normal life away from the horror, pain and death that haunted him. Leaving you... behind. And that felt like a stab to the chest.

“No” came a soft protest and he looked down at you with a deep frown “No I- I don't want to go to sleep. I don't wanna close my eyes cause if I- if I do then you'll be gone and I'll be back to reality. And I don't want it.”

“Wh-what are you-”

“I just want...” you trailed off, your lips parted as you watched him for a full minute. His eyes moved back and forth, eyebrows softly furrowed together before he heard you take in a small breath and lean in to press your lips to his. His eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up in shock.

He took in a shaky breath as your lips moved against his, soft, sweet and timid yet still with a boldness and surge of courage that all in all knocked all air out of his lungs. His eyes fluttered shut and despite every ounce of logic in him, every fiber in his body told him to kiss back and he did. His lips moved slowly against yours, savoring the moment he knew and feared wouldn't last long. He felt your arms wrap around his shoulders, one hand coming up to rest on the back of his neck as you deepened the kiss. He instinctively tightened his hold on your waist, bringing you as close as possible to himself as he could. He needed it worse than he needed the air to breathe.

His fingers danced with the hem of your shirt, the second his thumb brushed over the skin of your hip his heart did a jump. His gasp was synchronised with you licking his lower lip. He didn't even realize it when you moved so that you were laying beneath him, his body too seemingly having a mind of its own. He felt you wrap your legs around his waist and the shivers of excitement rush down his spine.

But logic and even more the need to protect you and care for you was bigger so as much as it hurt he pulled away from you with a small groan. He heard you let out a sound of protest and despite how hard it was to watch the rise and fall of your chest along with your kiss-swollen lips, he said “(Y/n)... close your eyes, sweetheart. Go to sleep. Please.” it was a plea for you to stop this because he didn't have the strength to.

“But I don't want to.” you whispered, bring your hand to cup his cheek “If I close my eyes you'll... you'll leave.” his breath got caught in his throat, fearing you knew what he had to inevitably do “I'll close my eyes and when I wake up you'll be gone but I- I don't want you to leave, Dean. Please don't leave me, I need you.”

“It's-” his mouth felt dry and he already felt terrible, so instead he said “I'll never leave you, princess.” he whispered, leaning in to press his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. He felt your lips pull into a small smile.

You kissed back before he pulled away, only a couple inches mind you though “I know you won't... I just don't want to wake up. I rarely have dreams, much less of you. I want to make this last as long as possible.”

“Dreams?” he frowned until it dawned on him. You didn't think this was real, you thought you were still sleeping and that this was all just a dream, of course. That would at least make more sense than your favorite fictional character from your favorite TV show being real and on top of that being turned into a dog, thrown into your universe, which you took in to take care of and adopted.

“Don't worry, baby girl.” he breathed out, smiling although sadly “I'll be here, just close your eyes. You're tired.” he said softly,moving to lay on his side again and tucking you next to him, kissing the top of your head which you rested on his shoulder.

“I don't want to...” you mumbled sleepily.

“Ssshh just sleep.” he said softly, watching you without another sound as you fought but your eyes fluttered shut anyway.

“I don't...” you only trailed off, losing the fight against sleep only a couple seconds later. He heard your breathing slow down and become even. He smiled, although it was bittersweet, not moving an inch so as not to wake you up.

Sleep wasn't bound to overtake him, like you, though. Deep down he wished it would, maybe then he'd have an excuse to let you know of his existence and above all stay for as long as that was supposed to be. But his heart sank when he heard the footstep at the other side of the door, and there was only person that could be there.

“Dean?” Sam's voice whispered, pushing the door slightly open.

Dean tried his best to swallow over the lump in his throat and tear his eyes away from you to look at his brother, thankfully fully clothed, standing in the doorway and squinting at him “Dean are you awake? Are you- are you back to yourself again?”

A heavy sigh left his lips “Yes and be quiet, you're gonna wake her up. I'll be there in a minute. Just... give me a minute, that's all I need.” it was a lie, he needed a lifetime with you and it would still not be enough, but at the moment that was all he could get.

Sam frowned for a second but clearing his throat, he nodded his head in understand “I'll- I'll leave a couple clothes here, alright? Just... hurry.”

Dean could even hear it in his brother's voice, a bitterness and sympathy; understanding even for his struggle and pain. The door closed softly behind Sam and the older Winchester just focused on the soft rise of your chest instead of the seconds ticking by, until the time to finally came.

As much as it hurt him he took a deep breath and did what he had to do. Knowing that the longer he stayed the harder it was going to be on him, he decided he should just man up and pry himself off you. It was hard, not just because of his feelings, but because you insisted to snuggle even closer to him and your grip around him was firm. It was nearly impossible pulling away, freezing more times than he realized whenever you'd shift or let out a small whine, but in the end he managed to get off the bed.

Pulling the clothes Sam had left for him on the chair he paused for a moment. He looked at you, even though he knew he shouldn't, holding his breath. He struggled with everything in him, against ever instinct and want, to not lean in and kiss you at the moment or even touch your cheek one last time because he knew he risked waking you up and that was something he couldn't afford.

Shaking his head he took a deep breath and with fast steps exited the room before he could regret it.

“You ok?” Sam asked softly, their eyes meeting but Dean clenched his jaw.

“Just freaking peachy.” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

“Dean” the younger man sighed nonetheless, seeing more than his brother let out “You know we don't have another option.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. She doesn't deserve to be dragged in all this, I've heard it before... And I agree.” he said sharply, clenching his fists as Sam nodded his head sadly. Dean's frown only got deeper when he took notice of what he was really wearing.

“Did you seriously give me her ex's clothes?” or maybe he needed a change of subject.

“They are all her ex's clothes, Dean. Be thankful he had forgotten some and she kept them in the closet otherwise we'd have nothing to wear.” Sam shrugged, ignoring the glare Dean gave him “Besides, Dean, just because you didn't like that dude to the point you bit him-” he snickered, and at that Dean looked more proud than offended “Doesn't mean we have another choice.”

“Yeah, well-” Dean gave him a smug grin, defence mechanism “Guilty. But didn't you see the way he broke her heart? He did deserved it. He was a jerk and I was right!”

“Not you were jealous. That's different.” he pointed with a small smirk “It wouldn't matter if the guy was perfect, either. You'd still hate his guts.”

“Still, I ended up being right when he did hurt her the way I predicted.” he shrugged again “Good thing she had Dean to cheer her up though.”

“Yeah, on the screen of her TV.” Sam pointed out, making reality crash down on him again, and clearing his throat he added “You know... we need to get going, before she wakes. Find a way to contact Cas.”

“Yeah I understand.” the smile fell as he chewed on his lower lip, taking another step away from the door of your bedroom “It was good while it lasted, though huh?” he asked with a half smile that fell all-too-soon.

“Ye-yeah I... I guess.” Sam frowned but pursed his lips, understanding very well how bitter and sad it was. Sure, there was a hint of relief that they'd finally be back, they had at least many more chances as humans too, because being away and helpless from their lives had taken a toll on both of them; Sam above all.

“I mean I-” Dean licked his lips, sure not all of it had been good because they had to be away from the people they cared for and called family, they had almost lost their minds thinking that it could never be undone but in the end what he felt here, the small heaven he found in your apartment with you was something he had only dreamed of in his wildest dreams at that “I miss them all too, but I just- what we got here we could never have. And I ain't one for the perfect life but this-” his eyes roamed the place, lip drawn between his teeth “It was good here, real good. And she was-” a small breathe left his lips that stayed parted.

Sam was frowning until realization hit him with something he doubted even his own brother could see, and his eyebrows raised, back straightening “Dean”

The older Winchester blinked, gathering his thoughts before willing himself to be strong “I'm ok. It doesn't matter now.” he dragged a hand down his face “We uh-” he already started making towards the door of the apartment “We should get going huh?”

“Dean” Sam said softly, eyes filled with sadness. But Dean wouldn't dare meet them.

“She could wake up any moment now.”

“Dean”

“Come on, Sam. We need to find a way back too. People can't see us moping around like-”

“Dean” it was more firm, forcing Dean to look at him with a clenched jaw “Are you-” he huffed slightly “Are you sure about this?”

“I-” he hesitated, chest puffing out before he shook his head “Yes, can we leave now?”

“I don't- I don't mean if it's the right thing. I know it is. I- I mean-” he looked him straight in the eyes “I mean, are you sure this is what you want?”

His words ran deeper than he expected, his eyes finding the door of your bedroom again. He held his breath for a second before his shoulders just slumped and his eyes lowered. Sam didn't need a verbal answer after that.

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part four Word count: ±2800 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part four summary: After Dean takes a girl home, Sam goes to look for the huntress who is keeping the brothers’ belongings hostage. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Music: Shine On You Crazy Diamond - Pink Floyd Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​ and @deanwanddamons​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     The nights are mild this November. The moon is almost full and stands high in the dark blue sky. This time it’s not the sun which shines a light on the hundreds of tombstones, neither does the cemetery have a peaceful feel like it did this morning. Trees create long shadows, so black that one would be afraid to walk through its darkness. At this hour the statues of angels and other Biblical figures don’t seem sacred, the figures looming over those who dare to disturb the dead.

     Anyone who would walk around the stretched out lands of Linwood Cemetery, would be rather sure the place is deserted. Nevertheless, someone is present. Not a grieving widow or a relative who got left behind, but a person who is, quite literally, digging up some dirt.      In a steady rhythm, scoops of soil fly through the air and land on a pile next to a hole in the ground. Down in the grave, Zoë is working like a miner. Even though it’s night, all she’s wearing is a thin Lakers basketball shirt, sweat shimmering on her body as her muscles move under her skin.

     For a moment she pauses; she reckons she’s almost there. Out of breath, she listens to her surroundings and scans the area like a periscope of a submarine, popping her head just above ground level.      Not a sound, nothing to see, yet she senses something. She can’t really put a finger on it, but glances at the loaded shotgun next to her in the grave nonetheless. She picks up the shovel instead, continuing to dig. Her senses grow stronger and the huntress freezes, picking up the smallest sound. Making a split second decision, Zoë goes for her shotgun, aims on pure gut instinct and fires. The slug demolishes half a gravestone and barely misses the person hiding behind it.      “Jesus Christ!” a startled voice cries out.      “Friends call me Zoë,” she responds, skillfully discharging the empty shell and reloading her rifle.

     She stays low to the ground and focuses on the tombstone from the hole, prepared for a possible counter attack, but nothing comes.      “Show yourself,” she commands.      A tall figure rises from behind the tombstone, his hands up.      “It’s me,” he says.      The man steps into the moonlight and Zoë instantly recognizes him.      “Sam...” She scoffs, actually not that surprised to see him. “Seriously man, there will come a day that I will kill one of you fucking Winchesters if you keep sneaking up on me like this.”

     “How the hell did you even notice me?” Sam questions, disappointed with his own ambushing skills.      “Are you kidding me? I can smell you from a mile away after your dive in that septic tank,” she nags.      Sam stares at her for a moment and smells himself.      “I showered!” he exclaims.      Zoë smirks; she can’t believe he actually fell for that. Sam also realizes she is deliberately messing with him and shoots her a deadly glare.      “What if I was the night guard?” he tests.      “If the night guard enters, I’ll notice it the minute he sets foot in the cemetery.” Zoë puts away her shotgun and picks up the shovel again. Before she continues digging, she looks back up. “What the fuck are you doing here anyway?”      Sam approaches the grave. “Looking for you.”      “Well, you found me. Now get lost,” the huntress scoffs.      “I’m not going anywhere without our stuff, Zo,” Sam states.      She stops what she was doing, leaning on the handle of the shovel.      “Sure. Just a sec. I’ll just pull your laptop case out of my back pocket and I think I stuffed the two duffel bags in my bra,” she responds, smartly.      He glares at her. “Ha-ha.”      Zoë continues shoveling dirt, while Sam halts on the edge of the hole in the ground. It’s not the first open grave he has seen, but that’s not what he’s looking at. Zoë has captured his attention, and Sam can’t stop watching.      The fabric of her shirt is drenched in sweat, a darker tone between her shoulder blades and down her chest. The moonlight distinguishes hardened arms and shoulders. She might be a lean built woman of no more than 5’8, yet clearly she is well trained. Even though Zoë has been working the soil for some time now, there is no sign of fatigue and every scoop is powerful. Just like that moment in Rochester, yesterday morning, she captivates him in such a way that it seems impossible to keep his eyes off her. When she walked by naked to turn up the radio she meant to get his attention, but apparently this time she feels uncomfortable.

     “What do you think this is? BustyAsianBeauties.com?” she remarks, glancing up at the hunter annoyed.      “Excuse me?” Sam returns, puzzled.      “Don’t get all innocent with me, perv. I happened to stumble on some browser internet history on your laptop, which is full of viruses because of that shit by the way,” she notifies.      Sam stares at her staggered, then the light bulb switches on. Rolling his eyes skyward, he huffs. “Dean.”      Zoë shrugs, continuing her job at hand. “I don’t really care which of you two can’t get laid enough. Your harddrive was a fucking mess.”      “You’ve been on my computer?”      It’s not so much a question. The tall Winchester eyes her from under his brown bangs, clearly not happy with her snooping around through his stuff. Zoë has the feeling that this would be a good time to lie, but just to rile him up a bit more, she doesn’t.      “I did, actually,” she comments. “Got a problem with that, college boy?”      Sam averts his gaze and grinds his teeth, which draws a reaction from Zoë.      “Hey, don’t be mad at me. I didn’t fuck up your computer with a dozen porn sites, videos, pi--”      “- I’m gonna kill him,” Sam growls.      “Oh, don’t wanna miss that.” Zoë turns up the speed, now that she has some extra motivation to hurry up.

     The youngest of the Winchester brothers glances down at her again. “So, this is your case?”      “I’m not digging up dead people for fun,” she retorts, without pausing.      “What’s the story?”      Zoë peers at him for a moment, but doesn’t stop with what she’s doing. Not seeing any harm in it, she gives him a brief summary. “Young girl got beat up by her father. One strike killed her.”      “Let me guess, what goes around comes around for the dad?” Sam assumes.      “Yep. Died yesterday,” she confirms.

     Whoa, she’s quick, Sam realizes. It’s not often that he has run a case that fast.      “How did you figure it all out in that short period of time?” Sam asks, genuinely interested.      “You guys have your methods to pick out cases. I have mine,” Zoë responds curtly.      The younger Winchester brother knows better than to continue the interrogation. A silence follows and Sam glances over at the gravestone.

     Laura Emily Shire      Beloved daughter and sister      01.22.1995 – 09.21.2005      Rest in Peace

     “Apparently not,” Sam comments on the last sentence, before he redirects his attention to the huntress. “Need help?”      “Do I look like I need help?” she counters.      He shakes his head and goes quiet, not daring to contradict her. He should have known Zoë wouldn’t accept a helping hand. So he watches, awkwardly, not sure what to do with his hands. Not for long, though, because three swings later, Zoë hits the coffin.

     The sudden difference in sound when the steel shovel collides with the wood draws Sam’s attention. He glances over the edge as Zoë wipes the dirt away. A hardwood beech coffin is exposed once again. Zoë busts the hinges with her shovel and opens the coffin, after which she quickly backs out. It’s one thing to burn just bones, but this little girl is still in the process of decomposition.      “Argh… man, that’s bad.” Zoë covers her mouth and nose with her hand and turns at Sam, who hands over her backpack.

     Trying not to inhale as she takes out a bag of salt and a small jerry can filled with gasoline, she continues to cover the remains with both.  She climbs out of the grave and takes a matchbox out of her pocket. With a smooth strike, Zoë lights a couple of matches and drops them down the hole. Almost immediately the fire spreads out and shines an orange light on their faces as the heat reaches for them. The body burns for a while and when the fire almost dies out, she shovels the dirt back in the hole. Sam wants to help, but she only brought one shovel, so there’s not much he can do.

     “How did you find me by the way?” Zoë wonders, as they saunter back to the main gates of Linwood Cemetery twenty minutes later.      “I drove by and saw your Harley in the parking lot of the Hampton, asked for you at the desk. They called up to your room, but you didn’t answer. Since your bike was still there, I just figured you were at the cemetery across the street,” he explains.      “I could have been having a bite and a drink somewhere,” she suggests.                          “Could have, yeah,” Sam admits, a small smile on his lips.      “Lucky guess, huh?” Zoë grins as they amble through the gate.      “More like a coincidence,” he expresses.      “Let me tell you one thing, Sam.” Zoë looks over her shoulder, an all knowing grin on her lips. “There’s no such thing as coincidence.”  

     They halt in front of the Hampton Inn as Zoë shakes off the cold and shrugs on her jacket. Grave digging can be quite intense, but now that she’s not busting her ass, she’s freezing. Before the huntress moves inside, she throws her backpack over her shoulder and turns around at Sam.      “What are you doing tonight?”      “Not much, actually. Dean has a girl over at the motel,” he sighs.      “Ah, I was wondering where the fucker was. Another one, huh? Not a shifter this time?” The huntress winks, remembering the joke she pulled on him.      Sam laughs too. “Not this time.”      “You didn’t tell him that we don’t know what sex that thing was, right?” Zoë checks.      “Nope.” Sam’s eyes sparkle for a moment, in the same way Dean’s eyes do so often. It’s probably a Winchester thing.      “I bet he has nightmares about it,” Zoë grins, enjoying the idea, but then turns to Sam as her amused facial expression changes into something more serious. “You have any last night?”

     Sam looks her in the eye and the sparkle disappears. He forgot about the fact that he opened up to the huntress about the strange dreams he’s been having and for a second he feels uncomfortable. He’s happy to shake his head.      “No, I slept quite well, actually. First time in three weeks,” he returns.      “Well, I didn’t.” She yawns and quickly covers her mouth with her hand. “I’m gonna catch some sleep. Night, Sam.”

     Zoë intends to stroll inside and leave the hunter at the entrance, but he clears his throat.      “Aren’t you forgetting something?”      Sleepy and confused, Zoë halts and looks at the younger Winchester. “You’re not getting a kiss, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”      Sam eyes her. “Our stuff.”      “Oh right,” she remembers, entering the Hampton Inn, Sam in tow.

     They take the elevator up to the second floor, where the huntress turns left, expecting Sam to follow. The younger Winchester seems impressed with the luxury of the hotel; he’s used to hunters settling for a much cheaper accommodation. As she slips her keycard through the lock, she yawns again.

     “That bad, huh?” Sam chuckles.      “I haven't had much sleep lately. Too many cases,” she replies and walks directly to the bathroom. “Let me freshen up, one sec.”

     One sec turns out to be five minutes, because after that amount of time she walks out of the bathroom, fresh and showered. She’s wearing a Nirvana shirt and pajama shorts, not even bothered to put on a bra, even though she has company. She’s going to turn in for bed soon anyway, the aftermath of her high this morning seriously kicking in. She carelessly beckons at Sam, pointing at the other end of the room.      “You can find your shit in the closet.”

     Sam crosses the space and opens the double doors. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees the duffel bags, but he can’t spot his laptop.      “It’s on the table, still hooked up to the server,” she answers before he can ask.      He walks over and notices the USB cable. “Why is it hooked up?”      “Don’t get all emotional about it, but I’m copying my supernatural database to yours,” she tells him. “Since you guys are still going on what’s in that old book.”      Sam’s eyebrows perk up, surprised. She actually did that, something nice without him asking? Maybe she’s not so bad as his brother would have him believe after all.      “Thanks,” he expresses.

     She looks aside, able to tell that his gratitude is sincere. Touching the mouse pad, she triggers the screen to light up; it’s still copying. To pass the time she opens ITunes, starts one of her favorite playlists and the first tunes of Shine On You Crazy Diamond by Pink Floyd come from the speakers.      “Don’t mention it, but I'll tell you what.” She straightens her back and walks over to her bed. “It’s still transferring files, which might take another hour or so. If you don’t have a place to stay anyway, why don’t you hang out here? You can crash on the sofa if you want.”

     Another unexpected act of kindness; she just invited him in. Not that she would want anything from him, though, or does she? For a second the Winchester wonders why she’s so interested in him all of a sudden. She’s being nice, and that’s just off.      “Sure, if you don’t mind,” Sam accepts, masking his suspicion.      “As long as you shut your piehole, I don’t mind. I really need to sleep,” she clears up as she crawls into bed and pulls the covers up till her nose. “Remote is on the TV if you want to watch anything, as long as it isn’t porn,” she mumbles, fitting her eye mask over her face.      “Thanks, I’m good,” he assures, sitting down behind the table and glancing at the screen.      He watches the bar move slowly, the percentage going up with each passing minute.      “Hey Zo, is it alright if I--”      But he doesn’t finish his sentence. Zoë is already far away, curled up in fetus-position, wrapped in her covers. She seems so peaceful and vulnerable, so unlike the Zoë Sullivan he got to know these past couple of days. He smiles at the endearing sight. She’s quite a peculiar woman.

     It only takes a moment, though, before guilt settles on his chest and memories cloud his mind. Because every time when he thinks of Zoë, his thoughts wander off to Jessica as well. As if a voice in the back of his mind is mocking him for taking an interest in the new huntress. That it’s ‘not done’ since he’s in a relationship. But he isn’t. Jess is gone forever.

     Sam swallows apprehensively and glances at his laptop again. He sees images transferring, of ghouls and werewolves, wendigos and demons. Honestly, he can’t wait to get his hands on that thing that killed his former girlfriend and his mom. Never has he felt the urge to kill something so strongly, never has he felt so much anger and hatred towards anything. Of course, he has ended the lives of creatures and burned the bones of the souls that stayed behind, but never out of hate. He did those things for opposite reasons; to save people and help spirits to move on.

     The frustrating part about his attempt to find the creature that was responsible for the death of his loved ones? He has no idea where to start. Their dad has disappeared from the face of the earth and he and his brother have no leads whatsoever. They need to get back on the road, find their father and make progress fast, before that thing disappears off the radar again. Sam is going to make sure that he and Dean leave this town tomorrow first thing in the morning.

     When the time comes, when they finally find their father, the next step is making the bastard pay that murdered Mom and Jess. That thought right there is what drives him, disturbing yet thrilling, but that’s what everyone is after. The death of that monster, the ultimate revenge.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part five here

[deeranger]

You know i'm a perv... Gotta ask about 25 xD the Wincest foreplay xD haha

Hi there, kinkiest buddy to ever kink! Thanks for the Wincest Questionnaire ask! ❤️

25) What would wincest foreplay be like?

Well.... This is bad. The tension is palpable in the motel room and Dean’s chest heaves, falling and rising rapidly as he stands in front of Sam while the echoes of his booming voice still try to die down from bouncing off the cheap drywall of the motel room.   

“Look, I’m sorry” Sam says in bewilderment, trying to diffuse the situation and calm his brother down. Only, Dean doesn’t seem to buy it. Not even by a long shot. Instead of his facial features softening by the apology they only seem to grow harder, his otherwise full lips turning into a thin and angry line.

And before Sam knows it Dean turns away, smashing the lamp on the nightstand into the wall with a loud ‘SMACK’ that reverberates in the room. 

“Dean! I said I’m sorry!” Sam says - no, he nearly yells it - and Dean’s expression hardens further. If it wasn’t for the drawn curtains providing them with a bit of privacy he would think that most of the clientele here would be glaring at them by now, because Dean sure as hell isn’t keeping it down. 

“I don’t care!” Dean shouts, glaring daggers at his little brother. But there’s more to his voice than just anger and frustration. It almost sounds like... Like the kind of voice he would use when he’s truly emotionally hurt. When he can’t put into words what he really means, what really gnaws at him. Not that it’s new, but still the tone of voice and the tense jaw and the watery eyes make Sam freeze to the spot.

“What do you want me to say?!” he spits, not able to read the expression on Dean’s face. And then suddenly his brother moves:    

The blow hits him like lightning from a clear sky - yet still he isn’t surprised. It’s how his brother communicates after all. Whisky breath and clenched fists flying. The strike to his mouth stings and the coppery taste of blood spreads on his tongue like a nauseating blanket of sourness. 

“I fuckin’ saw you!” Dean yells, eyes blazing as he eyes Sam up and down. For a few seconds Sam has no idea what his brother is talking about and he frowns, trying to disassociate himself from the sharp pain radiating from his split lip. It isn’t easy, because it stings like a bitch - but it doesn’t take long before he realizes what his brother is babbling about.

“What? You-You mean the waitress??” he spits, recalling how the young woman pulled him aside in the bar just as they were about to leave. Hell, she did look amazing, that’s for sure. She had even worn a set of those pantyhose that look like they were just glued right on to her long legs, all black and shimmery just like her nails. And her hair had been put into a neat ponytail, the length of it framing her naked shoulders just right above her tube top. But why does Dean think he did more than just check her out? 

“You’d do her, wouldn’t you?!” his older brother hisses, confirming Sam’s suspicion. Knitting his brows together the young hunter looks at him, shifting his weight from one foot to another while he tries to formulate an answer that will hopefully be just somewhat acceptable to his brother’s ears.

“Dean, I didn’t—”

“Yes, you fuckin’ did!” Dean snarls - and before Sam knows it his brother is up in his face, invading his personal space.

“Whoa, hey!” Sam says, trying to regain some of his footing when he’s pushed into the wall. As his back collides with the flowery wallpaper Dean presses against him - and Sam’s breath hitches in his throat. There’s something hard nudging his thigh, and there’s no doubt in his mind about what it is. 

“Dean, what the hell...?” he says breathlessly, not missing how his brother lightly gyrates his hips to rub their jeans against each other, seeking out friction.

“Shut up!”

The words are sharp and jab at him and it’s the only answer he gets before a mouth suddenly crashes against his own, all teeth and not much tongue. Stunned Sam freezes for a moment while his mind works overtime to decipher what has gotten into his brother and why he’s acting so possessive all of a sudden. 

“Dea—” he begins, but the rest gets muffled when his brother’s full lips press even harder against his mouth, seemingly trying to devour him whole. And at the same time a hand is stuffed in between their bodies, cupping him through his jeans so firmly that it almost hurts. Almost. 

“You’re mine,” Dean snarls against his lips, letting out a huff when he feels how his little brother chubs up in his hand.

“Aren’t you?” he continues, rubbing his palm a little harder against the growing erection hiding behind the denim. Sam’s breath automatically hitches in his throat and he can’t tell if it’s from arousal, anger, fear or something else entirely. Still, despite the confusion, he’s growing harder by the minute.

“Aren’t you?!” Dean demands, sinking his teeth into Sam’s bottom lip hard enough to almost break the skin. A yelp escapes the young Winchester and he tries to pull back, tries to step backwards - but there’s nothing there but drywall and tacky flowers. 

“Oww!” he manages to burst out against the mouth invading his own - but that doesn’t seem to appease his brother in the slightest. Instead, Dean presses harder, his lips and his hand practically clamping down on both Sam’s lips and his crotch.               

“Get on the bed!” he hisses, pushing Sam sideways and making him stumble on his own feet - and before he has the time to register it he’s colliding with the mattress, its springs giving off protesting shrieks under his weight.

“Tell me you want me!” Dean says, ignoring how his brother’s brows furrow in worry and confusion at his words.

“You know I want you...! I always did!” Sam says as he tries to interpret the look on Dean’s face. He looks absolutely desperate. Hungry, even. No - ravenous. And for some reason Sam can feel a heat flare up in his groin that wasn’t there moments ago.   

“Yeah? Sure didn’t look like it when you were flirtin’ with that bar skank!” Dean shoots back, his eyes darkening to the point where the familiar green turns into brown. 

“I wasn’t...! Dean, there’s-there’s only you!” Sam hears himself say. For a moment he’s surprised by the tone of his own voice, surprised by how submissive it sounds. And for a moment - just a moment - Dean’s expression seems to soften just a tiny bit. 

“Prove it!” he says as he climbs onto the bed, straddling Sam in one fluid motion. There’s no room for hesitation, no time for it. And as Dean unzips himself and fishes his rock hard dick out of the confines of his underwear Sam shudders visibly. Suddenly there’s far too much saliva in his mouth, far too many thoughts in  his head and far too much heat in his groin. Far, far too much.

“Fuck... Dean...” he whispers in a throaty voice - and before he knows it he’s leaning up to catch his brother’s dick with his mouth.

“Say it,” Dean orders just as his brother’s tongue laps at the head of his dick, treating it like a melting ice cream. And without even registering it Sam lets out a groan and looks up at Dean through dark lashes:

“I’m yours,” he pants - and then he closes his lips around the veiny flesh, eyes fluttering closed.           

[ace-trainer-risu]

OKAY So I am weak and made of flesh so yeah you know what??? fine i started rewatching supernatural. ten minutes into the pilot, already have Many Thoughts:

really interesting to watch the first few minutes knowing that mary’s from a hunting family. I mean, doylist POV, I’m sure they hadn’t thought that up yet, but watsonion (wastonian?) wise, I wonder what was going through her head. when she saw that light flicker, did a little part of her go “oh shit”?

i see john winchester. i want to punch him in the face. 

the first time i watched the pilot i was like...sixteen? maybe seventeen. and I just really didn’t notice how immediately blatantly misogynistic the show is! like, jess just wandering around in skimpy outfits all the time for no reason, being a Cool Girl, and Dean fucking! hitting on her! yurgh! this is a strange girl, you have just broken into her house, and she’s also your brother’s girlfriend you disgusting perv. Like within the first ten minutes of the show they are already clearly trying to assert, this is a show for Men. This is a Man’s show. Women Are Not Wanted. Unfortunately my seventeen year old self was a) already used to that being the baseline for existence, and b) was just like “ohh monsters! ohh pretty boys!” so it went right over my sweet empty little head, thus sealing my fate. 

and yet at the same time i’m also like “ah i see dean is already performing heterosexuality. very good.” 

Sammy...is Right actually. like all the things he’s saying about how the way john raised them is fucked, how he wants a safe life, how mary wouldn’t have wanted this for them, how dean shouldn’t be dragging him back...He’s Right Actually. My automatic reaction - and I say this with true love and affection - is to always assume Sam is wrong, but He’s Right Actually. 

honestly I even want to be like “oh but it wasn’t fair of him to cut off dean too when he went to college” but! He really had to! they were living in an abusive situation and not only was dean not willing to leave, but he was so under john’s thumb that he would have - and indeed DOES - drag sam back into it. Sam needed to cut off dean for his own safety, for any chance of a normal life. I fully understand how and why that’s very hurtful to dean but he didn’t really leave sam a choice. dean is just so much more brainwashed than sam and sam needed to leave alone or not leave at all.

and its...really actually....profoundly sad that dean does drag him back and sam doesn’t escape. like i guess demons and angels would have dragged sam back into it in the end. probably jessica would have died then regardless of whether dean showed up. but still, dean showing up plays a huge role in sam going back to the hunting life and that’s fucking sad. 

sam and dean are just like. standing on the stairway in his dorm/apartment building/whatever discussing monsters in a normal speaking voice. i know it’s the middle of the night but like. imagine waking up in the middle of the night and hearing that convo in the hall aj;dlkfj

it’s also hilariously awkward exposition to introduce that the “hunting” they are talking about is MONSTERs. ITS MONSTERS EVERYONE THEY HUNT MONSTERS I’m sure you couldn’t have guessed that from the name of the show. Why didn’t they just like. let that unfold over the course of the episode. lol. 

dean just said “dude, I’m twenty six” and I was like I’M TWENTY SIX and hyrghhhghghgh that feels Weird

i have literally only watched ten minutes so far

[zmediaoutlet]

fic: survivors

Title: survivors Rating: E Wordcount: 4466 Relationship: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester Warnings: Season/Series 13, Post-Episode: s13e22 Exodus, Established Relationship, Happy Sex Summary: After getting all the refugees out of the apocalypse world and leaving Lucifer in it, Sam and Dean take some we-time.  (from @sketchydean ‘s prompt: all survivor, no guilt.)

This was my first time posting in Salt, Burn, Porn -- thank you so much for the timing, because I wouldn’t have been able to knock out this fic on like any other night this week, haha.

*

(read on AO3)

There's like a hundred people in their house. Dean's not—he doesn't hate it, at least not for the night, but he sure as hell could do with a little privacy. And, okay, it's not a hundred people—it's not even a house—but it's theirs, and he never really thought of it as a boarding house, a halfway station on the way to—what? He doesn't know, and he doesn't think any of them do either. Bobby, or at least this guy who's passing for Bobby—he's in charge, more or less, and so Dean just does what he always does. He checks out the situation, he makes a list, he does what needs to get done.

Ketch disappears fast; so does Charlie (other-Charlie), for some reason. Mom's looking after a lady who it turns out might be pregnant, and Dean's not touching that situation with a fifty-foot pole. Castiel talks to Rowena, and Jack—Jack ain't talking to anybody, and Dean looks at Sam and Sam's already looking right at Jack, his eyebrows tugged into a flat straight line over distant eyes, and maybe Dean's not touching that with a pole of any length at all, at least not right now. Everyone's drinking up his stash and they're gonna need more food, more blankets, more cots, more space, but for right now, he needs to smell less like apocalypse-ash and grave-dirt. He's smelled enough of both for a lifetime; not fair to bring it home with him.

Shower's empty, somehow. Refugees swarming his halls and they haven't found the whole bunker's best friggin' feature. Well, Dean was due a lucky day. He boils his skin off for about ten minutes, just glorying in hot water, in water pressure. He swabbed his ass with a literal rag in a literal bucket over in Shitville. If all the refugees actually make it back with a plan to save the day, he hopes for their sake it involves some kind of legit plumbing. When he feels sufficiently disinfected he brings the temp down, grabs the soap, lathers up. Scrubs his scalp all minty-fresh and rinses off and feels like an entirely new person, and when he's free of bubbles he drags pruny hands over his face under the water and opens his eyes and there's Sammy, leaning with his ass against one of the sinks and two glasses of whiskey on the shelf next to him and a little smile on his face, watching.

"Perv," Dean sputters, like his heart's not turning over in his chest. Sammy.

"Takes one," Sam says, smile tucked up into the soft piled-up fold of his cheek, a dimple carved in deep. Ridiculous, Dean thinks, and watches Sam's eyes drop. He turns around, making sure the water's carving off all the soap bubbles, carrying away all that otherworld nastiness, and knows Sam's watching that, too, and how is it possible that after years of this—after, christ alive, almost twenty years of this—he can still get riled up just from how Sam looks at him.

Water off and he pushes his hair back, and when he turns around he catches the towel Sam throws into his chest. "Everybody settled?" he says, and Sam shrugs. "We're gonna have to clean out a Super Walmart of camping supplies, man. I don't think the Letters planned for a whole village to move in."

"We'll figure it out," Sam says. Relaxed, like he hasn't been in—shit. Dean can't even remember. He dries off, pricklingly aware of being watched. Bright in here. Maybe he can blame the heat in his face on the hot water. "Man. Seriously, did you burn yourself? You're like a lobster."

"Benefit of having an angel friend," Dean says, wrapping the towel around his waist. He steps out of the shower pan and the concrete's cool on his feet, the glass Sam holds out for him cooler, the whiskey inside just the right amount of burn. He licks his lips, scrapes his teeth over his lip, and up this close he can smell Sam: blood and mud, an edge like rotting forest floor. Gross, except that it's Sam. He remembers what he was saying only belatedly. "Got any burns, you can get 'em healed up, lickety-split."

"Lickety-split," Sam echoes, eyebrows pulled up like he's making fun of Dean, and he is, but Dean's found it in himself this last handful of years to be okay with that. To look forward to that. Sam doesn't make fun unless he's okay, and that little dig, that eyeroll before he takes a sip. That's Sammy, a-okay. What a miracle.

"You reek," Dean informs him, soft as a tub of mallow-fluff on the inside, and Sam wrinkles his nose, shrugs. "Yeah," he says, and hands his glass to Dean, and that means Dean gets to watch as he strips out of the unfamiliar stained sweatshirt, his undershirt below smeared with old blood, with vamp juice, with handprints Dean doesn't want to recognize. He drops them to the floor, heels off his boots, and then—belt, jeans, socks, boxers, and he's tanned and naked and whole, unmarked in any way that counts. Dean drains his own glass and sips at Sam's left-behind one, watches Sam under the shower. His eyes closed under the water. The rust-brown streaking away, uncovering the tattoo they share. His hair slicking against his skin, dark almost to black, on his skull and that patch in the center of his chest and at his crotch, his dick heavy and soft, the water limning it, dripping, a pouring river Dean could stop with his mouth, if experience didn't tell him he'd choke on it. Right now he maybe wouldn't mind, but. They got guests.

Still. "What are you doin'," Dean says, real quiet. Sam doesn't hear him over the rush of the water, there's no way, but he turns off the taps and pushes his hair off his forehead and looks at Dean anyway, and they can't, they got work to do and there's too many people around, they both know it. Still.

The Walmart's three towns down the road. Dean doesn't ask Sam to come; he comes anyway. Clean clothes that are his own, that smell like their detergent. Mom and Bobby can be in charge of all the strangers for a while. It's a pretty quick trip, especially with Dean driving as fast as he's driving, and he cranks up Appetite for Destruction and Sammy doesn't even complain, and they don't talk, and with it loud like that the guitar solo's still rattling in Dean's bones when he's moving quick around the fluorescent aisles, grabbing everything he can think of that'll fit in the car. Sam's got his own cart and they see each other on the turns and Sam grins at him, every time, basket fuller and fuller with soap and toothbrushes and pillow cases, underwear in three-packs, socks in ten-packs, bread and cheese, carrot sticks because Sam's a damn rabbit. Dean tells him so, when they pass each other with Dean on his way to the electronics section, and there behind a gondola of basketballs Sam says, "Vitamins aren't the enemy, jerk," and then like it's nothing fits his hand big around the back of Dean's neck and tugs him in for a kiss. It rings through Dean's head, bright as a brass gong. Quick, and Sam's smiling, thumbs at the corner of Dean's mouth and pushes him away and strides off with one janky cart-wheel rattling, and Dean's left in the rubbery smell of the basketballs, thinking, burner phones, but his brain's not quite operating on all cylinders. Call in the pit crew, he thinks, touching his damp lip and thinking of the store cameras, but. If Sam doesn't care then he doesn't, either. So. Burner phones.

They fill the trunk and the backseat besides, piled high enough with crap and three of their good cards burned. Dean revs the engine and Sam says, "my turn," and Dean doesn't object, and with Sam's choice of tape thumping the car body and sailing out through the open windows into the cornfields they race home, clouds scudding over the moon. Dean's never actually known what Bron-y-Aur is, but the song's great anyway, especially with Sam clapping the side of his thigh along with the beat.

At the bunker someone's built a fire in the shelter of the entrance and a few of the refugees are sitting around it, beers clutched in their hands. They stand up fast at seeing the car, fear softening out of their faces when they see that it's just them—and Dean has no compunctions about pressing them to work, either, even if Sam's mouth does a complicated thing. "Food in the kitchen, and you guys got someone who knows how to cook?" A lady scoffs, accepts a bag piled high with crap for sandwiches. "There we go. Yeah, and there's a shower down in the west hall, y'all figure that out how you want, okay? Someone tell Mary we've got some clothes for the kids, and tell Bobby Singer there's a hat in here that won't be frankly embarrassing if anyone else sees him."

"Dude," Sam says, but he's still smiling, and Dean raises his eyebrows like, who, me? Sam rolls his eyes—but then all the strangers have cleared away with all their purchases and Dean fishes out the bourbon bottle he hid up in the driver-side footwell and Sam sighs, but he's still goddamn smiling, like no other day Dean can remember in the past five hundred. He jerks his head and Sam follows him up around the hill over the back of the bunker, the narrow unused path up to the abandoned plant, and through the shouldered-open door to the huge empty cathedral-vault of the thing, and through the archway to the old control room, where there's still a used-to-be-blue couch and an electric lantern from when Dean would hide up here sometimes in rougher days, and where when Dean lights it Sam tugs him around by his hand and tilts his head up and kisses him, not like before in the linoleum-squeaky aisle but for real, like he means it, soft and full, his fingertips on the back of Dean's ear, his nose cold somehow even in the summer-spring air.

Dean breathes him, holds his bicep through the washed-soft flannel. His mouth, tasting clean. "Sammy," he says, when Sam pulls back to breathe, and Sam laughs somehow, happy-sounding. Happy, Sammy. Doesn't go together that often in Dean's experience and he doesn't even know how to countenance it. But who cares, he thinks, lifting up and biting Sam's lip. Finds himself smiling, for his own part, and hell. Who cares, if it's true.

He didn't think about glasses, but it's not the first time they've necked a bottle. They collapse onto the couch in huge poofing plumes of dust, their knees knocked together, Dean's ankle hooked over Sam's by happenstance and then by choice. "Good day?" Dean says, and Sam toasts him with the whiskey, eyes crinkling and familiar even in the blue-white blast of the lantern light.

"Had worse," he says, and sips, and hands Dean the bottle, and Dean can toast right back to that. They've had a hell of a lot worse. Any day where Sam was dead and came back to him, that's—that's a good one. Swallow goes down like fire and he takes the burn, the sting at the corner of his eyes. Sam takes it back from him, takes his hand too. Squeezes, his thumb dragging hard over the bump of Dean's palm, up to the knot of veins where his pulse feels shaky-wobbly as a kid trying out legs for the first time, and Sam’s smile goes from cocky to warm, just like that. "Name a better day."

"That time Lucinda Morris kissed you on a bet," Dean says, promptly, his heart not in it. Sam rolls his eyes. "Or, hey, how about that time with those identical twins, Callie and—uh, the other one, and they wanted—"

"Callie and Courtney," Sam says, "and I thought we agreed we weren't going to talk about that."

"Could've been hot," Dean argues back, for what's probably the dozenth time, but it's not like it matters. Sam still hasn't let go of his hand, and they're not usually—it's been a while. Since it was easy, like this. He almost wants the other shoe to drop, just to get it over with, but oh man if he hasn't been owed an easy night. His heart feels full of helium, soaring up to make a lump in his throat. "Sammy, guess what." Sam's eyebrows raise, dutifully. "You took care of him."

Zero guesses, who Dean means. Sam gets it immediately and his mouth does something all kinds of complicated, his eyelids lowering. "Yeah," he says, like it's somehow sore, and Dean reaches over and grips a handful of buttons and flannel, hauls with all his strength, and Sam comes, pulled over the top of him, half-laughing in surprise, propped over Dean suddenly, his eyes right there for Dean to see. He shrugs, bites the corner of his mouth. Dissembling like it's nothing. Liar. "We don't know what happened. Jack's not talking, you notice that?"

Dean touches his throat, his neck, warm and whole, where he'd seen the lifeblood gouting out of him. "Don't care," he says, and it's true. Jack'll come around, and it doesn't—matter. Not like this does. "I hope Michael took his head off."

Sam huffs, eyes bright. His hair's haloed in blue-white. "I hope it hurt a lot more than that," he says, quiet like it's a secret, but he's smiling bright and wide again. Dean's brother, happy and a little vicious, and Dean's heart could about blow up. Sam's eyes go all over his face, his hand wide on Dean's cheek, his jaw, and Dean touches his chest, feels the swell of his breath. Watches Sam's tongue wet his lip. "That door lock?" Sam says.

Dean spreads his legs, and says, "No," grinning after, and Sam huffs again and dips and kisses him anyway, drags his mouth open, that helium spinning up and lighting through his whole head. He feels drunk, high. Sam's hot, and when he shifts over he's heavy, too, and Dean doesn't want him moving. Sam's thigh settles along his, his hand on Dean's head and his dick riding against Dean's hip, making itself known, and oh, man, it has been too long, been so many days far too long, long enough that Sam could be five feet away in their own kitchen and Dean'd be missing him, life fucking them over like it so often did and not leaving time for this. At least not time to do this right.

"Oh," Sam says, breathes. He drags his thumb over Dean's eyebrow for some reason, his other hand slipping under Dean's shirt to feel his belly. It sucks in without his say-so, tingly shock of sensation. Sam hooks an arm under his lower back, tips his weight in so Dean's dick pushes against his stomach. Dean makes a noise and Sam's mouth quirks, and Dean hits him in shoulder.

"Smug bitch," he says, and Sam says, "Oh, you haven't seen smug," like a promise, and then his brow furrows, even as he's hitching Dean up into his lap in a haul of easy muscle, a show like—like it's five years ago, longer, and Sam was in that body-building phase. Still strong, enough that Dean's seriously straining the limits of what his jeans should take. "Man. Wish we had something, I want—"

He shakes his head. His hands on Dean's ass, big, squeezing, his chin tilted up so Dean can lay kisses on his mouth, his cheekbone, holding his head still for it. Sweat's starting up at Sam's hairline, his body overheating predictable as always, and Dean smiles, presses his lips to the scratch of Sam's sideburn, smells him. "Who's your favorite brother," he says, and Sam digs fingers into his back and clutches like he always does when Dean reminds him of what they're doing—like it was ever in fucking question, like somehow he could ever forget—but then Dean plunges his hand into the super sketchy crack between couch-cushion and -back and comes up with—

"What the hell," Sam puffs out, when he looks at what Dean's pressing into his hand, and Dean shrugs, smiling down. Who's smug now. "Tell me you didn't get this from the hobo couch."

Dean smacks the back of his head. "Dumbass," he says, and Sam raises his eyebrows and smacks his ass in retaliation, light but enough to—ah, yeah. Dean shakes his head, tugs Sam's hair. "No, obviously, but uh, sometimes you need a little privacy, you know, and—look, it's not dried up, don't look a lube horse in the mouth, okay. Gratitude, Sammy."

Wrinkled nose and Sam says, "Please never say lube horse again," and yeah, that's—that's Dean's brother, and it's proved more when he's hauled around again, dumped onto his back, his head bouncing against the dusty cushion. He sneezes, spreads his legs wider, and Sam drags a hand along his thigh, hot through the denim, Dean's muscle flexing up into it without his brain being involved, his heart thudding low in the pit of his belly it feels like, his skin aching. "We don't have time," Sam says, like he's got any goddamn intention of doing a thing but what he's doing. "This is nuts."

"When are we not?" Dean says, inviting, and Sam laughs like he knew Dean was going to say that, and maybe he did, maybe after enough years they're just predictable like this, an old married couple working the same ruts and rhythms. Only—Dean doesn't think most old married couples get days like this, days of forty hours with no sleep and running on fourth winds, days of fighting and killing and saving lives, and definitely they don't get Sammy, whole and particularly, always, himself. That alone makes this something that's all theirs, and he's damn lucky, in this way if in no other, that he gets it. He bites his lip, Sam's eyes dark and watchful. "We can be quick."

Like he has to coax, with that look on Sam's face. He goes for Sam's belt first and tugs, and Sam starts unbuttoning his plaid, shucking it backwards over the edge of the couch by the time Dean's unbuttoned and -zipped, has Sam's dick full and heavy in his hand. God, he loves this thing. Feeling's mutual. Dry warm skin, the edge of pubes crinkling his fingertips when he gets a real pull in, and he tucks his fingers down, brushes Sam's balls where they're still tucked heavy into his boxer-briefs. His mouth waters. "How quick?" he says, answering his own question.

Sam snorts, touches Dean's mouth. Gets his thumb licked, sucked in, and groans for it. Yeah, Dean knows what Sam's after. "Quicker than that," Sam says, though, and dips down, replaces his thumb with his lips, opens up Dean's jeans and lets Dean take care of dragging off his boots—awkward, scraping against floor and wooden couch-edge until they strain over his heels—and then leans back and tucks his fingers in and drags boxers and jeans off all in one go, so Dean's left Donald Ducking it in the warm dusty air, his socks still on. His dick swings lazy against his thigh, his balls full and ready, wanting, and Sam cups them up, out of the way, drags his thumb into Dean's crack. "God," he says, like he didn't mean for Dean to hear, "I thought—"

—and he doesn't finish but Dean doesn't want to hear it, not right now. He knows that look on Sam's face, too, and his nuts and gut and heart all ache too hard to have to think that way. "Sam, get the lube," he says, easy demand, and Sam's eyes snap to his face, his thoughts redirected along safer lines. When Sam's thinking with his dick the easiest thing in the world is for Dean to say that he needs something and Sam—yeah, he shoves his jeans down, pulls his undershirt up out of the way, slicks his dick ready to give it to him. Shining, in the white light, the head heavy, dark with blood. Dean touches it, gets his fingers wet and watches Sam's face flinch—touches himself, between the legs, and smears slick all over, barely dipping inside. "Come on," he says, and doesn't have to playact to put the right need in it.

"Sure?" Sam says—liar, like he's gonna stop—pushing Dean's thighs open right there on the nasty couch, their mom somewhere under the dirt twenty yards below them, fuck, they haven't done this with her in the same state ever before—and it's a shove, the wet head bulling in, Dean holding the backs of his knees and tipping his head back so Sam can't see how it tears at him—but his body remembers this, it knows what it means when Sam's here, when they're together, and he breathes and feels that sticky-parting, the full open shove that means—that it's Sam—

"Oh, fuck," he says, when Sam's seated. Sam laughs again, the crazy bitch, he smears a slick hand over Dean's dick and grips the lapels of Dean's canvas shirt in both hands, tugs him down, bullies himself somehow deeper. Goddamn. "Jesus, Sam, you can't fuck my throat from that side."

His voice is all screwed up, anyway. He gives up on keeping himself open and reaches down, grips Sam's thighs through his jeans, arches his hips and feels the slick fat drag inside. When he tips his chin down Sam's hovering right over the top of him, mouth open but a smile threatening. "Can't hurt to try," he says, dark wild edge in him, and Dean laughs back, helpless, and holds on while Sam churns his hips, when he rears back and starts to fuck for real, when he knocks Dean off this axis and onto a so, so much better one.

Crazy, it's always just—crazy. Sam's body, his heat, the bigness of him that just bowled Dean over. How this made Sam into a new animal—only it didn't, really, Dean came to realize later—this Sam was just as much the normal Sam as the Sam who hunched over in libraries and got wet-eyed over widows and went prissy when Dean ordered a second burger. Dean loves them all, exactly the same. Well. Maybe sometimes he loves this one a little more. Especially like this, driving deep, curved and hitting every possible good spot, his hand on the back of Dean's neck and a grip on his thigh keeping him open, making it so all Dean has to do is hold on, arch into it, a punching up and in and through, god. He hooks one heel over the back of the couch, tries to breathe. Clutching together, Sam's sweat in his mouth, his taste at the back of Dean's tongue, his breath coming fast and quick and proof, the whole time, proof. Dean tugs him down, kisses him, his hands in Sam's hair, and his dick drags against the scratchy-soft of Sam's undershirt, Sam's jeans pressing into his ass, a sparky hot throb inside that pushes all of those considerations away—that makes it just him and Sam, and really, just him and Sam is all it ever was, and all it ever will be, and oh—fuck, does it feel good, when that's so.

He comes first. Anymore that's always how it goes. Stupid Sam. He jerks, groans, heels digging into Sam's ass, holding him inside. Sam sighs against his jaw, flexing in him. Dean strains rippling for a long held moment, drawing it out, before he relaxes, tugs, and Sam moans into his throat and hammers home. A floaty unhinged ache spreads all through Dean's body, his thighs and hips, his asshole, his throat, his fingertips for some reason, and by the time Sam unloads in him—half-shout, bitten into Dean's shirt—he realizes it's because he's holding Sam's waist so hard that Sam'll probably have ten perfect bruises, fingerprints where Dean lost his damn mind. He lets go, feels the circulation start up in his hands, while Sam jerks in him, his dick and nuts trying to do more than they can. Always makes Dean flush up, tender, stupid. He touches the back of Sam's head, traces a line down the sweat trail along his spine. Hugs his hips, between his thighs, and feels Sam's shudder, inside and out. God, he's missed this and he misses it again, already.

Sam barely rolls off of him. The couch isn't that big and Dean's not letting him go anywhere. Any other day, he'd bitch about being a pillow—and he'll bitch later, probably—but. This is Sammy. What a goddamn miracle. No matter how it came about.

"I think Mom's got a thing for Bobby," Sam says, out of nowhere.

The distant ceiling is a shadowy mystery, not giving up anything to how Dean's eyes have slammed open in horror. "Why," he says, "the fuck," he continues, while Sam starts to shake on top of him, "would you bring that up now?"

Sam's just laughing, not making any sound, his grin pressed against Dean's sweaty chest.

Dean squirms, puts an unfeigned amount of disgust in his voice. "You are the actual worst."

"I know," Sam says, eventually, breathless, and lifts up on his elbow. "Is it better if he's not really Bobby, if he's like—whatever, stranger-Bobby?"

Dean stares at him. "No!" Sam collapses down, laughing out loud this time, and Dean gives up, shoves, and Sam rolls off to land on the dirty floor with a massive thud. He says ow, but not like it hurt, and laughs some more, quieter, his arm thrown over his face. He really sounds drunk, happy drunk, when they never even made it through half the bottle. Dean rolls his eyes, slides his sticky thighs together, tips onto his side. He flicks the back of Sam's arm, and Sam drops it, shows himself all wrinkled-up eyes and dimples. "Sammy, you seriously got, like, twenty-five screws loose. Twenty-six."

From the floor, Sam bites his lip, breathes deep and lets it out long and slow, like the first breath of a clean new day. Dean thinks it's around midnight. Maybe the day really is new. "Yeah, I'm crazy," Sam says, but he says it like it's a gift. Dean smiles at him, takes it like it is.

[sexualsam]

Somebody That I Used to Know

Ok so this is smut, and its pretty long .  Its only my second time writing smut but I actually love how this turned out. And can we talk about this fucking gif. Message me with more requests :)

Imagine: You and Dean searching for soulless Sam but when you get home you get a big surprise

Word Count: 2745

Warnings: Smut, Cursing, Unprotected sex, Oral (Female receiving)

Sam x Reader

Ever since Sam had become soulless and disappeared, you had become more cautious. More aware. Every time you had to walk in the dark, you constantly checked behind you. Whenever you got home, you made sure that all your doors and windows were locked. To put it lightly you lived in constant dread.

Sure, Sam would never hurt you, but this wasn’t Sam, at least not the one you knew. He wasn’t the loving compassionate man you had grown so fond of. Instead, he was full of hatred, mercilessness and lust, not a shred of compassion to be seen. It wasn’t any secret that you missed the old him, the real him; but the real bitch was that you didn’t just miss Sam. You loved him.

So when you figured out his soul had been left in hell, you didn’t know what was going to happen, but this certainly wasn’t it.

You had just got off the phone with Dean when you walked into your apartment building. He was pretty worried about Sam. He wanted to find him and fix him before he did something irreversible.

As soon as you walked into your apartment you locked the door behind you and walked to your bedroom. It had been a stressful day, and as if your everyday life wasn’t hectic enough, there had been talk of a ‘long haired, outrageously tall man’ brutally assaulting a police officer. You and Dean were sure that it was Sam, and he was getting sloppier, which wasn’t a good thing. If you guys could pin that on him than so could the police, and that was the last thing you needed.

Once you entered your room you took off your shirt and walked over to the dresser by the window. You had to get changed into more ‘athletic’ clothes, as you and the older Winchester were going out to look for Sam, yet again.

You grabbed a shirt from the drawer and threw it on. You looked out of the window to the full moon, just now realizing that the curtains had been left open. You sighed and shut them, hoping that there was no perv outside that had watched you.

Sam looked up into your window, watching as you took off your shirt and he smirked to himself. He had always thought that you had a good body, but it was always covered by pesky layers of clothing, but now that he had seen you, fully, he had no complaints. He watched as surprise took over you features and you slid the curtains shut. He knew there was no way you could see him through the dark, but he couldn’t help but slide a little lower into his seat.

He had been following you, watching you for a while now. He knew your schedule, all your habits. He knew how you locked the door behind you when you got home. How you double checked to make sure that the windows were latched, and most of all, he noticed how frightened you were. It made him, well, excited, knowing that he had so much power over you.

Sam watched as you left your apartment, looking over your shoulder with each step you took towards your car.

He waited a good couple of minutes before tailing you. He wondered where you were going, even though he had a hunch that you were going out looking for him. But he knew you’d never do it alone, which brought Dean into the equation.

He watched as you pulled up to an old park and got out.

You got out of your car and paced back and forth, waiting for Dean to pull up. You heard the roar of his engine and some loud old rock and your head snapped up.

“Dean.” You smiled as you walked over to him and he gave you a bear hug.

“Anything new in the hour since we’ve talked?” He asked, finally releasing you from his embrace.

You shook you head and looked down.

Dean knew about your feelings towards his little brother. And he loved the thought of you two being together, but he also knew how stubborn you were. Sam liked you too, the only difference was that he was too closed to express it, and even if he did, you would be stupidly blind to it. But then again, that was the old Sam. The new one would probably not even give you a second glance… not that it mattered to you, but still.

Since you knew Sam had been spotted in the area you had decided to sweep the whole town.

You guys began walking, and Dean looked over at you. He could see how tired you were due to lack of sleep, he could also see the sadness in your eyes and it broke his heart. You were like a little sister too him and he loved you. He hated seeing you like this, sure he was going through the same thing, but you had just recently gotten thrown into this life and he had had years to build up a thick skin to it.

Dean stopped abruptly and turned to you.

“Y/n, you don’t have to do this. Go home, get some sleep.” He sighed, lowering his gun. At this point you had also stopped.

“And what? Make you do this by yourself.” He sighed again, still looking at you. The street lamp illuminated your features. He could see that you were serious, arguing with you at this point would just be pointless. He just nodded and let out a simple okay.

You had searched almost every inch of the town except for a little area that no one really went, save a couple drug dealers. Dean gave you a ‘let’s just get this over with’ look and you chuckled.

Sam sat in the dark alleyway, watching as you and Dean poked around, guns raised. You were so close to finding him, yet he knew that you wouldn’t. Something inside screamed to just come out of his spot and make himself known, solely to see the looks on your guys’ face. He wondered how you would feel to know that he was under your nose the whole time. Just your reaction alone was almost enough to make him do it, but he restrained himself.

Dean had turned around and started walking back to his car but you had lingered. You found yourself staring at a particularly dark spot in the alley, you couldn’t bring yourself to shine your flashlight at it. You knew that even if it was Sam you weren’t sure that you wanted to find him.

When you entered your apartment and flicked the lights on, your heart skipped a beat. You looked over at the corner chair and there was Sam, sitting there smirking at you.

You sucked in a breath. You were frozen, you wanted to reach for your gun hidden in your waistband but you couldn’t. He still sat there, watching as you backed yourself up.

Now he was standing, inching closer with each passing second. His eyes were locked with yours. You wanted so badly to run, to call Dean, to do anything but just stand there.

He stopped about three feet in front of you and he dropped his eyes to your body, briefly stopping at your chest. He smiled as he thought about what he had seen earlier. How perfect you looked without clothes on, how delicious you probably tasted.

A million questions raced through your mind. Why was he here? What was he going to do to you? Did he need something? You finally found your voice and spoke up, making Sam’s eyes snap back up to yours.

“Why?” Was all you could muster. You found yourself staring back at him, his eyes were lifeless. The Sam you knew was gone and it broke you. You weren’t scared of him as much as you were scared around him; he made you vulnerable, he made you weak.

He studied you. He noticed how you shrunk lower against the wall as he towered over you, he also noticed how small pools could be seen forming in your eyes.

“Y/n.” He stepped closer to you and you backed away.

For a split second you swear you could see his eyes soften. But before you could even be sure he had grabbed your hand and flipped you flush against him.

Sam knew he couldn’t talk to you face to face, he might crack. He had worked so hard to forget you, but you wouldn’t stop poking around. Looking for him.

Talking like this was easier.

You could feel his hot skin flush against yours.

You wanted to push him away, to do anything but let him continue but you didn’t. Instead your body took over and you leaned against him. You wanted him. No you wanted Sam, and this wasn’t Sam.

“This isn’t you.” You mumbled. Sam now had his lips trailing along your neck. It felt so good but you wanted, no, you needed him to stop. You knew you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself if he went on. But you didn’t do anything, you let just him continue.

“Oh, it is me Y/n. The better me.” He smiled, leaving wet light kisses by your ear. You shuddered against him, his hot breath left shivers running through you.

“Sam, you shouldn’t be here.” You breathed. He chuckled and brought his hand up to your throat, squeezing lightly.

“What? You gonna call my brother?” He lightly sucked on your neck, smiling against your neck as you squirmed.

“You know I’ve been following you for weeks?” He chuckled yet again. You rolled your head against his shoulder, granting more access for his wondering lips.

You didn’t answer, you didn’t want him to hear the wanting in your voice. It did scare you that he was following you, hell, he had probably watched you change in your window. But all of that only made you grow wetter.

He gabbed your hips and grinded himself against you.

“You know, I’ve wanted you for the longest time.”

He grabbed your hips once again and spun you around. This time his lips melted into yours. This all felt so wrong but it was something you needed, something you craved. You had wanted this for the longest time and now that it was all actually happening it felt so surreal. The only downside was that this was all happening with soulless Sam and not the sweet, loving, caring lumberjack that you loved. The bright side was, that this was going to be some absolutely mind blowing sex.

You gasped as he bit your bottom lip and you smiled. Admittedly you kind of liked this side of him. It wasn’t something you were proud of, but then again, you weren’t proud that you were letting him do this, but you went on anyway. You felt kind of guilty. Dean was out looking for his little brother worried sick, and here you were about to get fucked by him.

The kiss was bruising. So full of lust and passion at the same time it made your head spin.

You pulled away and looked up at him. He turned his head to the side.

“God I love that face.” He murmured before picking you up and throwing you down on the bed.

He watched as you scrambled to sit up.

“Strip.” Was all he commanded, he watched as you got undressed.

You sat up on your knees and made eye contact before taking off your shirt. He watched as you slowly removed your bra. Your perky breasts hardened in the cold, and he smiled.

You noticed how his cock had hardened under his jeans and you smirked at him. A low groan could be heard from his throat as you ran your hands over your half-naked body. You maintained your guys’ eye contact and you pulled off your jeans.

“No panties?”

You bit your lip and shook your head. Sam made his way over to you, his jeans getting tighter by the second.  

He stood in front of you and pulled you to the edge of the bed, before sinking to his knees.

“I’m going to make you feel so good Y/n.”

He locked eyes with you as he went down. He licked a line up your slit and he watched as you opened your legs wider, granting more access.

His fingers pumped in and out of you. He slowly lapped at your clit, alternating between licking and sucking. The sight of him going to town on your pussy alone, was enough to make you want to cum.

You’re breathing stuttered as he picked up a fast pace with both his fingers and his tongue. Your legs shook and you grabbed Sam’s hair with one hand and your boob in the other, gripping them hard. Pleasure ripped through you, and it was almost time for the tight coil in your stomach to spring free. You looked down to meet Sam’s dead eyes once again. He took this as an invitation to flick his tongue faster than he had before. This action made your back arch as you dissolved into ecstasy and your orgasm ripped through you.

“Fuck, Sam.” You panted. He kissed a line up from your pussy to your mouth. You could feel him smile against your lips. He suddenly pulled away and looked at you.

“Get up.” He smirked. You got up off the bed your legs felt like jelly but you pushed through it and stood in front of him. He looked at your body up and down before stripping off his shirt and unbuckling his pants. You couldn’t help but stare at the perfectly carved man in front of you. You absentmindedly bit your lip as you gawked at him and he smirked once again.

He turned you around so your back was flush against his and he bent you over. You placed your hands on the bed. Excitement tingled through you as you waited to be filled up by Sam. You were still trying to catch your breath when he rubbed his dick over your sensitive slit. You sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden contacts.

He slowly slipped his tip into you and you threw your head back. It hurt, but it felt so good.

“Oh Sam.” You gasped.

He took this as a green light to fill the rest of you up with himself. You winced and let out a moan through your closed lips and Sam smiled. He started out with a slow pace before working up to a fast one. You could barely contain yourself, you were a moaning mess. He felt so good inside you.

Sam leaned down and captured your throat in his hand, forcing you to stand up with him still pounding into you. He whispered things into your ear. His deep, orgasmic voice almost sent you over the edge. His voice was aphrodisiac all on its own.

“I want to hear you scream my name.” He groaned while pounding into you. You let out a loud moan in response and he released your throat. He moved his hand to your nipple while the other grasped your hip desperately. His lips stayed pressed against your neck, his hot breath made you tremble.

You could feel yourself coming undone under his touch. You screamed his name as your walls clenched around his throbbing dick. He buried his teeth into your shoulder and let out a grunt as he emptied himself into you.

As soon as he pulled out you found yourself collapsing onto the bed in front of you. You tried to catch your breath as Sam disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing with a towel moments later. He walked over and handed it to you.

You could hear heavy pants coming from his mouth. You always imagined sex with Sam to be heavenly but you had never thought it would be that animalistic and hot.

Sam had slipped on his jeans and he had thrown you yours. He walked over to your phone station and picked up a pen and paper.

“I’ll be here, you know, if you ever wanna do that again.” He smirked as he grabbed his shirt and threw it on. You took the piece of paper from his hand and read it. By the time you had looked up, he had left.  

[naturallysuperbullshit]

S1 E18: Something Wicked This Way Comes

First || Previous || Next

Right off the bat, i gotta admit that I am a sucker for Macbeth references of all kinds. And references to the witches in particular make me laugh bc it reminds me of my high school English teacher who once accidentally referred to the "bearded witches" as "weirded bitches" lmaoooooooo

Hey this version of the bedtime prayer is a lot nicer than the one I was taught, where instead of angels watching over me, I was supposed to make allowances for my death :/ why didn't my grandmother have little 6 year old me thinking about angels instead of death :/

Monkeypuss????????? MONKEYPUSS??????????????

You really shouldn't have tree branches so close to the house that they scrape against the windows... that's how you end up with your windows all scratched to hell

HOW IS THIS CHILD NOT SCREAMING BLOODY MURDER - ope no there is it

"This place should be crawling with kids right now" Sam you sound like a disappointed perv don't say things like that in public

JFHDJJDHS THE BIKINI INSPECTOR BADGE

Awwwww baby Winchester time! They're so tiny!!!

I wanna wrap little Dean up in a blanket and give him hugs... he doesn't deserve all this bullshit, he's only like 10

That little old lady is HILARIOUS i love her

Naming the kid who Dean sees as himself "Michael" is a bit on the nose there, fellas

HEY NAMING THE KID THAT DEAN SEES AS SAM "ASHER" IS A BIT ON THE NOSE THERE, FELLAS

Oh man Dean's guilt complex finally rears its ugly head

That's a hell of a lot to put on a ten year old and I really think that if John had half the braincells he thinks he has, he would have left Sam and Dean with Pastor Jim in the first place! The shtriga hunts children why would you bring CHILDREN WITH YOU

Michael saying yes in this episode, agreeing to Dean's plan, is.... very uncomfortable when you know what future episodes entail

Dean calling Sam "little brother" really jerks me right out of an otherwise tense moment like.... that's not how siblings talk to each other..... it would have been better if he had said Sammy....

HOW have none of the other people staying at the motel called the police yet it's fucking 3am and Sam and Dean both practically emptied their clips

"Your brother's gonna be fine... It's a miracle" ah, more series-long foreshadowing

"Something Wicked This Way Comes" final thoughts: this manages to be both a solid stand-alone episode and very much a keystone episode for the overarching plot through s5, which is cool! Dean's character development is well done, and Sam seems to get a better look at what Dean would do for his sake.

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Wardrobe Malfuction

Title: Wardrobe Malfunction

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 967

Square Filled: Free Space

Summary: You and Dean were running late for Patience’s High School Graduation Ceremony due to a Vampire case. In your haste to get ready, you realized that you’ve forgotten your duffle bag. And with the limited time that you didn’t have, you had to make due with what you had.

Warnings: Crack

Written For: @spndeanbingo

Disclaimer: Not my gif.

A/N: This was actually inspired by @winchest09’s fic, Shatter Me – Chapter 13. I don’t want to give out any spoilers, so you’ll just have to read it! It’s a great fic filled with Angst, Smut, and Fluff. Each chapter is long! Now, I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing, but I personally enjoy long fics! Anyways, Happy Reading!! xx

Traffic, for some reason, had been grueling. The summer heat was here, the AC in the Impala was shot, and the case you and Dean had been working on back at Denmark wasn’t the easiest. Damn Vamps. By the time the two of you reached the motel room, Sam was already ready.

“How was the case?” He asked as you both walked in.

“Exasperating,” you sighed. “Why couldn’t you go instead?”

“Because I didn’t fit the description of their… type,” Sam grinned.

“Those Vamps were grade-A douche bags with a side of dicks,” Dean added, already digging through his bag for something to wear.

Dean wasn’t wrong. Those vamps were using young women in their early twenties to early thirties to feed on and lure men into this exclusive strip club. And when those rich pervs least expected it, they were sucked dry.  

Needing a quick rinse after the long drive, you jumped in the bathroom, beating your record with a five-minute shower. When you got out, Dean was putting on his boots.

“Y/N, hurry it up, we need to get going if we want to make it in time! Jody will kill us if we’re late!” Dean rushed you.

“I know, I know! I just need to get changed!” You grumbled.

Patience has graduating high school, and Jody had invited you and the Winchester’s to be there. Not only was Patience graduating, she was her classes only Valedictorian! There was no way you could miss her speech.

“We’re gonna be waiting in the car, so make it quick.”

“Dean, I know!” You hissed as the door shut.

You ran over to your side of the bed, which was closest to the wall, only to find that your duffle bag wasn’t there. Cursing to yourself quietly, you searched other areas in the room in hopes that maybe you dropped it somewhere else or Dean or Sam moved it without telling you.

The car horn went off making you jump. “Son of a bitch, Dean!” You spat, starting to panic. Without thinking, you jumped over yours and Dean’s shared bed, shuffling through his bag and picking out the first thing you could get your hands on. It was his red flannel shirt and with a shrug, you slipped it on buttoning it up as quick as you could, before wrapping your black leather belt around your waist. You literally jumped into your boots, before dashing into the car.

“It’s about time!” Dean muttered, zipping out of the parking lot once you got in.

“Sorry, I had a wardrobe crisis,” you informed, hastily combing your hair with your fingers.

Dean took a glimpse in the mirror, doing a double take when he noticed what exactly you were wearing. “Hey, is that my shirt?” He barked.

“Yeah. I left my bag in the trunk. You were rushing me so I had to improvise. Don’t worry, if it’s such a big deal, I’ll change when we get there,” you rolled your eyes.

“Doesn’t matter. We’re already running late. Just wear it, but you have to wash it.”

“Okay, okay. Jeez. Talk about drama queen,” you ridiculed.

Sam let out a soft chuckle, earning a glare from his older brother. “What? It was funny,” he explained, a wide smile still on his face.

“Whatever…” Dean mumbled.

Finally reaching the high school, everyone jumped out. “Dean, wait, I need to get something out of the trunk,” you told him.

“What? Y/N, I already told you you could use my shirt!” Dean blushed, as he finally got to see the full outfit for the first time. He had to admit that you looked damn good in his clothes, especially that color… and he especially liked the length of it on you, stopping mid thigh.

“I know, but there is something I need,” you emphasized the last word.

“Fine,” he grumbled, opening the trunk.

Dean stood beside you, waiting to see what it was you “needed,” He was already frustrated from the long drive and having to rush, but now he was a different kind of frustrated seeing you in his shirt.

“Um, a little privacy,” you scolded, as you kept your hands in the bag.

“Oh no. No, no, no. I’m gonna wait right here. I ain’t leaving you for a second and have you take even longer.”

“You know what, fine,” you hissed, trying to remain confident and acting like him being right there didn’t bother you. “Suit yourself.” Removing your hand from the bag, your cheeks instantly went red, as you pulled the little fabric from your bag and unfolding it. Dean immediately, coughed, his eyes wide and face as red as a cherry tomato.

You slipped on your underwear before shutting the trunk, making Dean flinch. “You—you…” He couldn’t even speak.

“That’s right, Dean. I didn’t have any panties on this whole time,” you tired to tease, but you were sure the embarrassment was there, written all over your face. Hell, you could tell Dean was flushed as well. Who knows what kind of thoughts were running around in his head? The man could be a real pervert sometimes.

Dean opened his mouth again, but no words were able to form. With that, you pivoted on your heels and ran over to Sam who was half way to the school auditorium entrance. When you peeked over your shoulder, to see where Dean was, your eyes popped when you saw him still standing at the same spot you left him, however he was sporting a smug smirk directly at you.

Groaning, you rolled your eyes. Dean Winchester was such a perv. You giggled to yourself, attracting Sam’s attention.

“What’s so funny?” He asked.

“Your brother is an idiot,” you giggled, picking up your pace and walking ahead of the taller brother.

---

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Say Something Nice Here!

[fiftyshadesgrl]

Running crazy 2

I lay there motionless on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Sam sat at the table right next to the bed looking on his laptop. For what i dont know. I know i saw sam and ruby fucking on our bed. I had to. Theres no way that wasnt real. Dean left some time ago i didnt know what he was doing either. I didnt care at the moment.

"Do you want anything? Water? Something to eat? Bathroom break?" Sam asks me sitting on the edge of the bed. I dont say anything just turn my eyes away from him. How can he act like nothing happened? I know what i saw i am not crazy.

Sam stood and walked towards the bathroom. After he shut the door a knock sounded on the motel door. The door knob turned and ruby walked in.

She sauntered over and sat on the bed right next to me. If she wasnt real why did the bed dip under her weight? If she wasnt real then why could i smell the scent of her leather jacket? She leaned down close to my face and gave me that smirk that i loathe so much.

"Sammy sure is a kinky one. Tying you up here just for me. He knows how to make a girl feel special." She whispered the last line right at my ear.

I pulled at the ropes feeling the anger come back in full force. "Im gonna put a bullet between your eyes."

She laughs, she stands up and walks around the room. I watch her as she walks to the bathroom door where sam was. "Dont you dare!" I scream as i pull on the ropes.

I finally work one of my wrists free and roll over to grab my gun from the nightstand. I turn around and fire a shot, it barely misses sams head.

"Where is she?" I ask.

Sam is standing stock still, shocked that i almost just shot him. "Wheres who?" Sam whispers.

"Cut the bullshit sam! Wheres ruby?" I point the gun at him.

He walks over to the bed and sits down next to me. "Shes not here, you know deep down inside you shes dead." He reaches out and takes the gun out of my hand. "This isnt you baby. Youre a winchester. Fight this."

Dean walks in at that moment and stops in his tracks. "What did i miss?"

Sam gives dean his famous bitch face then stands from the bed. "Find anything?"

He nods and takes his suit jacket off and grabs a beer from the small fridge. "Yeah, i think i know what we are dealing with."

"That is?" Sam asks, i have to say im more interested now.

"A wraith, stronger than any one we have come across yet. Somehow it brings the victims worst fears to life and it can also manipulate their emotions as well." Dean says sitting at the table.

The fog in my brain begins to clear, i hunted a wraith with them before and know how bad it can get. But if this one is stronger than any wraith dean has ever seen then this can turn really bad really fast.

Sam looks at me, "have you had any contact with anyone since this started?"

I shook my head, "not that i know of, just you and dean." I started sorting through all of my memories from when this started. Then it hit me, "wait, there was a older woman, a waitress at this little diner that i stopped at. I thought she was comforting me but her touch was odd."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "woah, i thought i was the only one who went for waitresses."

I rolled my eyes, "not like that you perv. I was sitting there and she seemed sweet. She seen i was upset and she touched my arm."

"What do you mean by odd?" Sam asks me sitting back on the bed.

"I dont really know. It cold, like ice on my skin. After she left the table that horrible sadness came over me."

Sam and dean shared a look. "Do you remember where its at?" Dean asked.

I nodded, "yeah its not to far from here."

"Lets go." Dean said. Sam hesitated i looked at him, the fog beginning to clear more in my head. I know now that none of what im seeing or feeling is real. I shake my wrist at him.

"Let me loose and ill come along. Its not good for me to be left alone and if this thing is as strong as dean thinks it is then youre gonna need all the help you can get." I say and sam nods.

"Alright, lets go gank this bitch." Dean says smiling.

@an-unhealthy-obsession @vicmc624