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quinneleanor · 2 years

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Needle Song

Wincest. One-shot. Boy King of Hell Sam/Consort Dean

Published: May 15th, 2022

Summary:

The castle is detestably picturesque with vast, anachronistic arches and high, empty towers. Big and ominous with well-fortified stone walls, the castle stands a strange elfin in the middle of Kansas country.

Sam stands in the wide, arched doorway to his cavernous throne room, his arms folded behind his back, his head held high and steady. His crisp black suit fits him perfectly. Not too loose, not too tight.

All conversations cease. Beetle black eyes shift to the emerging figure. Although Sam is yards away, his presence is staggering. He is a hulking, ravenous wolf amongst nervous, doe-eyed sheep.

Links: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39019614

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14081963/1/Needle-Song

For the story, click keep reading.

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Author’s Note:

Boy King of Hell Sam does not submit to anybody. Well, anybody except Dean.

Or the one in which Sam is the ruler of hell and earth but is still a needy bottom.

- For Courtney,

slayer of dragons

and all-around good woman

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Dean feels the weight of Sam’s intense yellow eyes on him from across the room. Dean is sitting on his ivory throne next to Sam’s, a platter balanced on his thighs.

He glances up from his platter of juicy ribs, unabashedly sucking grease from his thumb, savoring the smoky, delicious tang. Of the hundreds of demons around, no one spares a glance at Dean. They aren’t allowed to. Anyone who gazes at Dean without Sam’s explicit permission is subject to getting its eyes burned out of its sockets. Dean doesn’t mind. It gives him permission to eat like he used to. That is, wholly without restraint.

All conversations cease. Beetle black eyes shift to the emerging figure. Although Sam is yards away, his presence is staggering. He is a hulking, ravenous wolf amongst nervous, doe-eyed sheep.

Sam has an essence about him, Dean realized long ago. It makes demons squirm. Makes them balk at his presence. Dean would be lying if he says he doesn’t get a sharp stab of glee from the bastards’ discomfort.

Sam steps across the threshold and walks towards his throne, his foxlike eyes leisurely surveying his followers, a proud smirk curled onto his lips. His shiny, black dress shoes are eerily silent against the stone floor. Demons part like the red sea, eyes flickering to the floor. On either side of the throne room stand long wooden tables, a sprawling banquet sat on top. Full of delicious meats, hearty stacks of hamburgers, and warm apple pies, the feast gives off a mouthwatering aroma, mixing with the undercurrent of sulfur and sweat.

Although it is a sprawling banquet fit for dozens, it is all for Dean. Demons do not eat, after all.

Dean grabs the mug of beer from the floor beside his bare foot. He takes a hearty gulp, licking froth from his top lip.

His personal servant-more like his keeper, if he’s being honest-quickly kneels beside him, long, bony fingers curling around the throne’s armrest. She looks sixty with crisp, brittle artificially dyed yellow hair.

“Would you like me to take your plate?” The demon asks in a smooth, clear voice. The sound bounces off the walls, loud in the silence.

Like all the demons in the room, this demon does not occupy a living vessel. That was one of Sam’s many stipulations when he became ruler of hell. Sam had saved Dean from the deal that would have, like John, sent him to hell, but Sam had lost his humanity in the process. Or so the story goes.

Sure, Sam had started the apocalypse and sure, demons were top side, but at least humanity wasn’t-for the most part-enslaved and although times were a trifle a bit more difficult past these cold, stone walls, at least the world wasn’t a scorched fire ball spinning through space.

Dean says, “Sure.”

The demon takes the platter off his lap, careful not to touch him. Dean’s pants are made of sensual silk, virgin white. His shirt is billowy and soft to the touch, an equal shade of white. The get up is ridiculous, but it’s all for show.

Dean sits his mug down and the demon backs away into the shadows.

Sam reaches the edge of the cold, stone steps leading to his black, thorned throne, his eyes never leaving Dean’s face. Dean suppresses a smile at Sam’s ludicrous faux arrogance and turns his eyes away to gaze down at his lap.

Before he knows it, Sam is standing in front of him, blocking his view from the room. Sam reaches for his face, tilts his head up to look him in the eyes, runs his thumb against Dean’s plump bottom lip. Sam’s eyes are heated, his mouth twisted with barely contained lust. Sam tastes like ash and something wild, like crushed cloves and cinnamon, and Dean suppresses the urge to suck Sam’s thumb into his mouth and suckle the digit.

“Did you miss me?” Sam whispers directly into his mind. The mind-to-mind connection that formed between he and Sam not long after Sam turned dark side used to freak Dean out-it felt like being stared at while taking a shit-but he’s come to appreciate it.

Dean scoffs in his head. “Yeah, I couldn’t handle being an hour without you, baby. Thought I’d roll over and die.”

“Very funny.”

“I thought so.”

Sam gives a secretive, warm look before the mask slips back on. Sam removes his thumb and turns to his throne. It’s black and curved, skulls garnishing the top in macabre decoration. Sam sits on the plush, sensual leather. He shimmies into the chair, leisurely sprawling one arm over the armrest, his legs spread wide, his chin perched in his hand. He gives a cruel, bored expression, like a small boy whose animal he’d been torturing has finally exhaled its last rattling breath.

Hundreds of black eyes peer up at their king. The silence is so thick you can cut it with a knife. Dean stares down at his lap, acquiescent.

“I suppose you all are wondering why I’ve gathered you here today.” Sam’s voice is deep, suppressed violence just snaking beneath the surface. “I’m guessing you’ve probably heard the rumors.”

Sam’s eyes scan the crowd. “Someone has touched my consort.”

A mutual gasp erupts through the crowd.

Dean suppresses an eye roll.

Even now, Dean isn’t used to his formal title. Sam barely speaks it, but when he does, it’s with an air of utmost authority. Dean suppresses a look of distain as he fingers the soft material of his thigh. Touched is an understatement. The demon had cornered Dean when he was leaving the eastern tower, had pressed him against the ivy choked window, had practically shoved his slimy, hot tongue down Dean’s throat, grabbing for the draw string of Dean’s pants, wrenching the flimsy material halfway down his bowed legs.

Although Dean would never admit it, he yelled for Sam down their psychic link. Sam was there a second later, wrenching the demon back and flinging him against the wall. Pinned like a moth to a board, the demon laughed, pulling fruitlessly against the invisible bonds keeping him in place. The demon’s wrenched his mouth open to spit vile insults, but Sam squeezed his hand into a fist, silencing his voice before he could utter more than a syllable. Face flushed with rage and teeth bared, Dean was fully prepared to watch his brother tear the bastard asunder with his mind.

But Sam did not. His hair-raising expression of white-hot rage melted into familiar worry. Sam turned to his big brother, ran trembling hands across Dean’s torso, checking for any injuries. Dean yanked his pants back up, tried desperately to get the taste of demon out of his mouth. He swiped his mouth with the back of his hand and spat big glops of saliva onto the stone floor.

“I’m fine,” Dean batted Sam’s hands away, more embarrassed than upset.

Sam was silent for a long moment, trying to steady his heaving chest. Ever since they were kids, Sam’s reaction to being overwhelmed was to shut down. Dean guessed old habits died hard.

Dean glided his hands around Sam’s long, wide waist and locked arms around his brother like iron brands, keeping Sam grounded. Sam’s power crackled the air, a wave of heat splashed against them both. The little hairs at Dean’s nape rose. He rubbed Sam’s back in gentle strokes, rested his forehead against his brother’s shoulder, inhaled the musky pine aroma of Sam’s deodorant.

“Hey, man, it’s okay.” Dean said, glancing up. “Calm down. You’re getting yourself all worked up. Just smite the son of a bitch and let’s go have lunch. Let’s pretend this never happened, okay?”

Always stubborn, Sam shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was laced with venom. “No, I’m going to make an example out of him. Tonight.”

When Sam set his mind on something, it was nearly impossible for Dean to shake it loose. Dean sighed.

That incident is what led Dean to sit beside Sam in his sprawling, dreary throne room, surrounded by hundreds of demons, waiting for whatever horror Sam had in store for Dean’s demonic perpetrator.

“As you all know, my consort is mine and mine alone. I do not share.” Sam goes on, voice rising with barely contained anger. “And whosoever so much as looks at him impolitely pays the utmost price.” A cruel smile curls on Sam’s lips, promising dark, shuffling things, vowing bloody, rusted knives and severed fingers. If Dean did not know the fallacy behind the gaze, he would be shivering along with the rest of Sam’s demonic groupies.

“Guards, bring him in.” Sam says. Deranged shouts slice through the silence. A sea of eyes turn towards the two brawny demons dragging the prisoner between them. The demon kicks out wildly, thrashes his head back and forth, jerks madly at the hands wrapped around his biceps. The crowd parts, lets them through. The prisoner is wearing a bald Caucasian man with a narrow face. With wiry muscles, he twists uselessly in the guards’ hands, gnashing his teeth, snapping his mouth inches away from their stolid faces. Dean’s mouth goes sour at the sight of the demon, remembering the thing’s disgusting tongue thrusting past his unyielding lips.

Sam rises from his throne, peers down at him with contempt.

“Drop him.” Sam commands over the irrational shouts.

The guards throw him to the ground. Instantly the demon jumps up and Sam snaps his arm forward, aiming his outstretched palm towards it. The shouts cut off with an abruptness that leaves Dean glancing up at the show. The demon stands frozen and wide-eyed, his mouth open in a grotesque maw, bloody saliva dripping from his busted bottom lip. It looks weird as hell, until Dean comprehends Sam has completely immobilized him.

“Won’t you play nice?” Sam purrs. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to tear you limb from limb and put you back together just to do it all over again.”

Sam curls his fingers, and a line starts in the demon’s cheek, clean and bloodless, and leads down to his stomach, cutting through the dirty white button up. Blood rises to the surface and spills, soaks through his shirt, turning him red. Droplets of blood dribble onto the floor, an insistent drip, drip, drip. It’s the only sound beside the mutual inhale and exhale of hundreds of dead, borrowed lungs.

Abruptly Sam lets his arm down. The demon’s legs give out and he sprawls face first onto the floor. He laughs through blood laden lips, a wet, deranged sound, and drags himself to his hands and knees.

Sam slowly descends the steps until he’s looming over the demon.

“Your majesty,” the demon spits sarcastically, a stingy splat of bloody saliva landing a foot away from Sam’s shoe.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Sam cocks his head to the side.

“Yeah,” the demon says, casting a hate filled glare up at Sam. “He’s sure got a tasty mouth. I wonder what that mouth would taste like after it’s been wrapped around my cock.”

Sam dropkicks him in the face. The demon goes sprawling backwards, broken teeth flying like pearls on a broken necklace. His skull makes an audible crack, but he’s a demon, and demons don’t die from measly skull fractures.

Sam leisurely flicks his hand up and the demon is dragged to his feet until he’s floating a foot above the ground.

Sam tisks, shakes his head like he’s a disappointed teacher. “Wrong answer.”

The demon tears uselessly at the invisible bonds keeping him in place, thrashing and bearing his broken, bloody mouth.

“I want to hear you sing.” Sam says.

“What?” He slurs.

“Sing me a song.” Sam insists.

“No.” The demon hisses.

Sam’s palm turns into a fist. The demon throws back his head and wails. Sounds like a tornado tearing the roof off a building. Sounds like the shrill screams of a mother pushing life into this world. Sounds like a needle going through an eye.

Sam loosens his fist and the demon’s knees slam against the ground. Rivets of sweat run down his face. His chest heaves and its eyes roll back in his head, trying to find itself in the barbed wire curling around his insides.

“Sing,” Sam says simply. “Or we can do this all night. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Why bother?” The demon spits. “You’re just gonna kill me anyway.”

Sam shrugs. “Maybe not. You never know. Maybe you can carry a tune. Maybe my consort will find you amusing.” He glances pointedly up at Dean before turning back to the demon. “Maybe I’ll keep you as my little songbird, christening the halls with your sweet, bloody music.”

The demon stares down at the floor in rage before glancing back up at Sam, an array of emotion flickering across his face in rapid succession: hatred, anger, contemplation, resolution.

“Fine. What do you want to hear?”

Sam crosses an arm over his stomach and taps his finger against his chin as though in deliberation.

“What about…‘I’m a Little Teapot.’”

“Fuck you. No.”

“No?” Sam says, feigning surprise. He throws his arm out and sends the demon sprawling on his back, screaming in horror as a thousand imaginary bees sting every part of his body. The pain rapidly melts deeper, and he feels the stings in his corrupted, blackened soul. It’s starting to swell precariously.

“Stop! I’ll do it, okay?! I’ll do it!” He screeches.

The agony stops instantly, like flipping off a switch. The demon lies panting on the floor.

“Get up.”

The demon heaves up, staggers two steps until he finds his feet.

Still glaring daggers at Sam, the demon opens his mouth and begins in a lifeless monotone. “I’m a little teapot, short and stout. Here is my handle, here is my spout. When I get all steamed up-”

“No,” Sam cuts him off, exasperated. “Where’s the emotion? Where’s the passion? You have to do the dance. What’s the song without the dance?”

The demon stares at Sam like he’s grown two heads. The demons surrounding him hold their collective breaths. The demon glares, mouth twisted in defiance, but he widens his stance.

“I’m a little teapot, short and stout.” The demon bends his knees down and back up, voice grotesquely cheerful, slurred partly from the broken mess of his mouth. “Here is my handle,” he throws his arm out, connects his fist to his waist and brings his other arm up, “here is my spout. When I get all steamed up,” he shakes like a cold, wet animal, “hear me shout, tip me over and pour me out!” He tilts to the side before straightening. “I’m a very special teapot. Yes, it’s true.” He nods his head in mock enthusiasm. “Here’s an example of what I can do. I can turn my handle into a spout,” he switches his arms, “just tip me over and pour me out.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence.

Then Sam starts clapping, grinning like a schoolboy. “Bravo!”

A couple of demons in the crowd slow clap.

“What did you think?” Sam swings his gaze up to Dean. Although Dean knows this is all a façade, there are moments where Sam plays his character so well, Dean wonders if a little bit of Sam doesn’t secretly relish in tormenting this demon.

Quickly, Dean plasters on a small, timid smile. “It was good.”

“Good,” Sam admits. “But not great.” He turns his gaze back to the demon. His eyes bulge out of their sockets and his hands fly up to his throat. He drops down to his knees, spews blood.

“Oh, no,” Sam purrs. “Looks like you’re pouring out, little teapot.”

Sam takes a step back, trying to dodge the spewing demon. Sickly sweet vomit and coppery blood speckle the floor as the demon tries to upchuck his stomach.

Sam grins. Dean shifts in his throne, fingers the smooth ivory beneath his calloused palm.

“You know, this is your fault.” The demon manages between bouts of harsh coughing.

“My fault.” Sam echoes, genuinely curious.

“Yeah,” he coughs. “A king is meant to share with his subjects.”

Sam’s amused expression turns icy. The room drops a dozen degrees and Sam sets his jaw. The demon coughs once, twice, before the pain surprisingly stops.

“Dean, come here.” Sam commands without turning his gaze away. Dean rises from his throne and slowly descends the stairs. His billowy attire moves elegantly with his strong, masculine form, accentuating the muscles underneath the thin, sensuous fabric. Like a ghost, Dean contrasts vividly with the muted gray color scheme around him.

When he gets to his brother, Sam snakes an arm around Dean’s waist, pulling him flush against his side.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” Sam asks, turning those cracked yellow eyes down to him.

“Yes,” Dean replies, looking up at Sam with a subtle pleading expression.

“Yes, what?” Sam’s hand clenches around his waist, tenderly kneading his side.

“Yes, Sammy,” Dean whispers.

“Hmmm,” Sam hums. “And what do you think about some low-life maggot trying to take you away from me? Doesn’t make you too happy, does it?”

Dean gives a quick glance at the demon before looking back up at Sam. Dean shakes his head, feigns nervousness. “No.”

Sam turns back to the demon, baring his teeth. “Why would he bed you, a mere foot soldier, when he’s already bedded regularly by a king?”

The demon opens his mouth to respond, but Sam has had enough. He’s proven his point.

Sam’s mouth twists into a snarl and he jerks his arm up, hand clenching. The demon doesn’t so much as die but implode. The demon’s eyes boil and pop like a couple of eggs in a microwave. His body shakes, his demonic essence writhing like a frantic snake, steam rising from his skin, his insides pouring from every available hole in his body. Smells like shit, piss, blood, and cooked chicken. When he dies, the body lands with a thud.

Disgusted, Dean shifts away. Sam snatches Dean’s wrist and drags him close.

Dean falls submissively against his brother, stares down at his bare feet, a flush spreading to his freckled face. Sam wastes no time, grabbing the back of his hair, pulling his face up, kneading the overgrown strands in firm pulls and releases. Dean looks wearily into Sam’s lustful eyes. Sam smashes a possessive kiss to Dean’s plush mouth, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles. Dean squeezes his eyes shut. Sam breaks the kiss, manhandles Dean around until he’s facing the crowd. Sam yanks Dean to his chest, runs possessive hands over Dean’s chest and belly, mouthing hotly at his neck, suckling dark blotches into his milky white flesh. Dean stands passively in Sam’s arms, playing the part of subservient consort, whimpering, eyes tightly closed. Sam sucks deep marks into his skin, claiming him for the whole army to witness.

Although it’s all an act, lines of heat snake down Dean’s stomach and curl at his groin. He chews at his bottom lip, shivering at the warm, delicious suction of Sam’s talented mouth. If Sam keeps this up, Dean’s going to start moaning for real pretty soon.

To his brother’s legions of demonic followers, Dean is Sam’s property. It had taken Dean awhile to accept this façade. Mostly because he’s nobody’s bitch, especially not Sam’s, and especially since Dean has always prided himself on being his own man. But Sam and Dean both know pretending to have this dynamic in front of them is the only way Dean can be kept safe. If the demons realize Sam hadn’t actually lost his humanity and that he’s really working on the human side of the isle, they will rebel and that would literally mean hell on earth.

Sam releases his neck with an obscene pop. Dean’s eyes flutter open as Sam runs a hot, wet tongue up the side of his neck, curling around his earlobe and flicking the tip. Hundreds of pairs of black eyes are staring at them, a mix of lust, admiration, want, and jealousy crossing their faces. Overwhelmed, Dean closes his eyes, shivers when Sam licks into his ear. Sensing Dean’s emotions like he always has, Sam turns Dean around in his arms so they are facing one another, bends his knees, and hefts Dean over his shoulder. It reminds Dean of a caveman. He stifles a bark of laughter and is grateful that his face is pressed against Sam’s back, or he’d really give it away. A lustful expression mars Sam’s face, not wholly fabricated.

Without even an official dismissal, Sam stalks out of the room with Dean slung limply over his shoulder, assumingly taking Dean up to his chambers to bed and reclaim his consort until the sun rises.

Sam walks for a while. The castle is ridiculously big with twisting corridors and winding passageways. When they enter the east wing-Sam and Dean’s private wing of the castle-Dean feels the tension release from Sam’s muscles. He stops and puts Dean back on his feet. Dean shakes the numbness out of his left leg and punches Sam’s arm.

“Bitch,” he spits.

“Ow,” Sam rubs his bicep, swings pleading, puppy dog eyes towards Dean’s direction. “What did I do?”

Dean waves at his throat. “Those hickeys hurt, Sam.”

“I had to be convincing.”

Dean walks past him, aiming for the end of the corridor to the large, black door that opens to their bedroom.

“And the whole tea pot routine?” He throws over his shoulder. “Kinda sick, Sammy. Even for you.”

Sam catches up to him. “Again, just trying to be convincing.”

Dean stops, turns to Sam. Sam halts. Dean curls his toes against the cold stone floor, fights the chill leeching his warmth from the soles of his feet. “I know man, but next time just do it faster.”

Sam’s gaze turns icy. “There won’t he a next time, Dean. Not after today. Everyone will know not to mess with you. They’ll know what’ll happen if they do.”

Dean pats Sam’s chest. “Demons, Sam. Demons. They aren’t exactly Irish Setters.” He starts walking again. Sam grabs his wrist, halts him. Sam rubs his thumb against Dean’s pulse point. Dean licks his lips and scowls.

“I’m sorry.” Sam says, shoulders sagging. “I got carried away. I just…that demon deserved it. After what he tried, probably deserved a lot more. I just thought I’d kill two birds with one stone. If they don’t fear me, then they’ll try to upsurge me.”

“I know.”

“Then the world just goes to total shit.” Sam breathes.

“Well aware, man.”

“If it makes you feel any better I didn’t enjoy any of it.”

Dean gives him a look.

Sam flushes and glances away. “Not all of it, anyway.”

A fluttery, betrayingly warm creature has wormed its way into Dean’s stomach. Dean grabs Sam’s chin in his hand, pulls his face back towards him.

Anger stirs inside him, pounding through his blood and spearing through his senses as it strengthens along with lust.

Anger for what, exactly? Sam forced to play his part? He himself forced to play his part, too? Dean does not quite know. Only that he wants to press Sam against the wall and fuck him until he doesn’t remember his own name-or anything else.

“Dean,” Sam breathes. Dean stares at him like a ravenous lion. Sam trembles like a rabbit caught in his gaze, a flush of warmth spreading to his aching groin. Sam takes a step back, releases Dean’s wrist, and his brother wastes no time in slamming Sam against the wall and kissing him breathless.

The real Sam kisses like a virgin, even now. Sweet, untutored, a little unsure, yet with a delicious trembling need that shoots hot trails of arousal down south to Dean’s throbbing member. He squirms uncomfortably in the silk pants, wishes he could garner more fiction where he’s dry humping Sam’s hardening front.

Dean shoves his tongue into Sam’s eager mouth, curls the tip against his brother’s back teeth. Their tongues fight for dominance, but Sam submits like he always does, letting Dean taste him. They nibble, push, stroke. Dean thrusts his tongue as far as it can go, wishes he could unhinge his jaw to give more of himself to Sam. Dean caresses Sam’s face, rough fingers leaving brands of heat wherever they land. Sam pushes his hand under Dean’s loose shirt, fingers the twitching, trembling muscles. His dry, calloused hands feel amazing, and Dean lets him know by moaning into his mouth.

Dean tears his mouth away, smirks when he sees Sam’s puffy, bruised mouth.

“What is it?” Sam pants, rubbing his thumb against Dean’s left nipple. The bud is dark, hard from the arousal raging inside him.

“Just admiring your mouth.”

“Yeah,” Sam breathes.

“Yeah,” Dean smiles, eyes half lidden. “Just thinking of all the things I’d like to do with it.”

Dean never feels more cherished, more needed, than the moments Sam looks at him this way. No matter how many times he sees the heat and desire in his brother’s eyes, Dean is always left stunned. Dean can easily look passed Sam’s cracked yellow eyes to the pleading, desperate man underneath, the man who had corrupted his very soul to keep Dean at his side-forever. Is Dean really worth that? Worth all this desire, all this love, all this bare, bleeding devotion? Sam slips his hands into the back of his hair and fists the strands. Dean thumbs Sam’s lips and Sam darts his tongue out, prodding.

“I want that.” Sam whispers after a beat of silence, his voice heavy and harsh with barely contained lust. Without warning, Sam grabs Dean’s hand and slips his brother’s middle finger into his mouth, closing his eyes and sucking it like his life depends on it. Dean watches, transfixed, as his finger slips in and out of Sam’s hot, wet, perfect mouth. Sam moans like a five-dollar whore, like Dean’s finger is chocolate and he’s got a sweet tooth.

Dean thinks this is the thing that’ll tip him over the edge. He’s going to cream his boxers without even being touched. That’ll be a new personal record.

“Sammy. Ah, Jesus, dude. S-stop. That. Ah. That feels too good.” Sam pulls Dean’s finger out with the pop.

“You taste good,” Sam says matter-of-factly and smirks. “Good enough to eat.”

Dean suppresses a bark of laugher at Sam’s cheesy attempt at foreplay. Isn’t Sam supposed to be the brains of the operation, the one good with words and shit?

Dean cuts to the chase. He’s never been the kind of guy to dance around what he wants.

“What do you want?” Dean whispers against his throat, licks a rough line up his hot skin. Dean shoves his hand against Sam’s crotch, grabs for his dick straining against his pants, and squeezes tight. Sam makes a guttural sound. A deep, animal sound. Sam shivers, tosses his head back, overwhelmed with simultaneous pain and pleasure.

Sleet pelts against the roof like buckshot. Sam’s arousal does strange things to the weather. Has since he got his freaky demonic powers. It’s not like Dean is complaining.

“What do you want, Sammy?” Dean hisses against his ear, bites the lobe.

“I want you.” Sam pants. “I want you.”

“Want me for what? What do you want me to do?” Dean says, bites the tender part of Sam’s throat, leaves teeth marks.

“To-to fuck me.” Sam mumbles.

Dean shivers. “Yeah. I think I can do that, baby.”

Sam opens his eyes and gives Dean a look you could pour on a waffle. Thunder rumbles outside.

Sam, who is everything in Dean’s life. Sam, who will do anything for him. The realization hits Dean like a brick. Sam would kill for him. Sam had killed for him today. Had killed for him before.

Dean can’t suppress his moan. Dean pulls him away from the wall, practically shoves him the rest of the way towards the bedroom door.

The door locks behind them and Dean finds his brother’s arms wrapped around him like steel bands. Dean tilts his head up, obscenely swipes his tongue against his brother’s mouth. They stumble towards the bed. Sam’s power flares out and abruptly every candle in the room is lit.

The bed is vast, silky black sheets slipped over an orgasmically soft mattress. There’s a canopy overhead, a dark, sensual crimson. It blows softly, disrupted by their presence. Dean doesn’t so much as shove Sam onto the bed as fall on top of him, grabbing at his belt buckle and tearing. Sam squeezes around him like a ball python, refuses to let go. Dean shimmies his hips, bites Sam’s throat. Sam hisses, releases his grip, and Dean clasps Sam’s forearms, dragging his arms up to lie on either side of his head.

Dean thrusts against him, slow like the waves in the ocean, stirring hot, tinging arousal in their groins.

“You really want that, Sammy?” Dean’s voice is whiskey smooth. “Because I’d like nothing more to bend you over this bed and fuck you so hard, you can’t walk for a week. What would your demon groupies think then?”

Sam moans and reaches up, attacks the side of Dean’s neck with hungry nibbles and sucks.

Shit, Dean might really cream his pants this time.

Dean yanks away and tightens his grip on his brother’s arms. “What do you think they’d think, Sammy? Knowing that their big, mean king’s weak human brother is railing their highness on a semi-regular basis?” Dean leans down and swipes his tongue against Sam’s mouth. Sam’s eyes are half-lidden and if Dean isn’t mistaken, little Sam is pressed against his leg like a big, rigid shlong.

“I asked you a question,” Dean says sternly and grabs Sam’s throat, not choking, but suggesting it.

“Yes.”

“Yes what? It’s not a yes or no question.” Dean thrusts harder. Sam lets out a groan. The candles flicker but Dean’s positive Sam isn’t doing it on purpose. He squeezes a little harder around Sam’s throat and Sam snakes his hand out, laying his hand on Dean’s wrist, not pulling, just resting.

“I think they wouldn’t believe it.” Sam admits.

“Believe what?” Dean licks his lips and lets go of Sam’s throat. Sam seems to miss the contact.

“That their king is being railed on a semi-regular basis.”

Dean smiles devilishly. “Well, I guess I’d just have to prove them wrong.”

Dean tears off Sam’s suit jacket and attacks his buttons. Buttons go flying, pinging off the walls. Dean throws Sam’s button up open, mouths Sam’s nipples, sucking them between his front teeth as Sam wildly grabs for his black dress slacks and boxers, wrenching them down his muscular legs. Dean tears his lips away to lift his own shirt over his head and toss it behind him. Dean sits up, feels Sam kick off his pants. Sam attacks Dean’s silk pants, pulling them down and grabbing Dean’s fat ass, squeezing the plump meat of his cheeks in rhythmic pulls. Dean bats his hands away, rolls off the bed, and scrambles underneath the bed, yanking out lube and a condom box. He tosses the lube onto the bed and Sam grabs it, popping the bottle and squirting the slick onto his fingers. Sam rolls onto his hands and knees, reaches behind him, and shoves a finger into his aching, pulsing pucker. Dean nearly stumbles where he’s perched on the edge of the bed, transfixed with the image of Sam fingering himself, face twisted in pleasure-pain, overgrown hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, free hand clutching at the sheets.

Sam glances at him, notices him watching. “What’re you looking at? I’m not going to have to do all the work, am I?”

Dean tears the condom wrapper open and rolls it hastily onto his dick. He leaps on top of Sam and yanks his finger out. Dean squirts lube onto his own fingers and gets to work. Sam, already loose from the countless times they’ve done this, is prepped in a handful of minutes. Dean tosses the lube to the side, lines himself up, and grabs Sam’s hips. Bruises are already there in the shape of Dean’s hands. He matches his hands up-there’s no use in creating more-and presses the head of his throbbing cock against his waiting entrance. Sam fists the sheets. The strong muscles in Sam’s back ripple with every tug. Even now, Dean is awed at Sam’s subtle strength, at Sam’s willingness for Dean to take the reins so completely. To be trusted by someone so thoroughly, it’s almost too much to bear.

Dean presses himself into the tight heat of his body. The heat and desire radiating off Sam as he sheathes himself fully inside is nothing Dean can compare to. No small-town hooker or promiscuous waitress can compare to Sam’s large, willing body writhing underneath him.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

Dean begins to pound into him like their lives depend on it. With each thrust, with each delicious stab of his prostate gland, Sam lets out a guttural moan, halfway between man and animal, wholly subjected to the will of Dean behind him. Dean slams against him, gets a fistful of Sam’s hair, yanks his head back, rides him. Dean, his everything. Dean, the only person who has ever made him feel complete and whole and totally loved. Fuck everything. All Sam needs is this, Dean behind him, over him, inside him, making him feel like the only thing left worth fighting for.

Sam knows he isn’t going to last long. Not with that perfect sting in his scalp, not with Dean filling him so completely with his thick, throbbing manhood. Dean release his hair, runs his free hand across Sam’s side, leaving tendrils of heat with every stoke of his soft, capable fingers.

“Dean,” Sam moans.

“What do you need?”

“I-I need you.”

“For what, Sammy?” Dean breathes, presses hot, wet kisses along Sam’s neck, savoring the moment.

“Touch me,” Sam pants.

Dean does, grabbing Sam’s big member between his hands and jerking him off furiously. Dean feels a press against his buttocks, like two large invisible hands. At first startled, Dean quickly realizes what Sam is doing. Dean chokes back stunned laughter. He’s using his telekinesis to give Dean an edge, to make each thrust faster, harder. Dean can’t help but picture himself as a glorified dildo, but instead of the idea turning him off, it’s actually turning him on.

He thrusts harder with the aid of Sam’s telekinesis. Sam’s body tightens around Dean’s member before he comes, thick white ropes plastering the black sheets below. Sam tears at the bedsheet, jaw open wide.

“Dean!”

It’s too much. Dean orgasms, throwing his head back and shouting for the whole world to hear, consumed by white-hot bliss. Sam collapses underneath him and the hands disappear.

As they come down, wrapped in each other’s arms, the storm outside rages to the beat of Sam’s thundering heart. Dean draws shapes against Sam’s sweat laden skin.

“Did I satisfy you, my king?” Dean says jokingly.

“Yes,” Sam whispers in an faux British accent that makes Dean feel all but eighteen again. “My consort.” Dean snuggles underneath his chin, presses a kiss to his brother’s throat.

“Good.” Dean yawns.

They fall asleep to the peaceful thrum of Sam’s power and lightning flickering across the Kansas countryside.

#Boy King Sam Winchester #top dean #bottom sam #wincest #consort dean winchester #castle #post season 3 #supernatural #smut

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kansaskissedlips · 4 years

Note

(1) Sometimes I like to think about dark Winkline. Boy King Sam ruling hell with an iron fist. He is pragmatic, clever and sly. A cool head, a fair ruler and an absolutely terrifying adversary. His brother/consort Knight of Hell Dean is another story. A hot head that will paint the throne room with your entrails if you so much as look at his brother wrong. And then there is the nephilim kid. Utterly spoiled by the other two and can do no wrong in their eyes.

(2) Initially Jack seems ill fitted in hell with his big blue eyes, pouty lips and angel blood, but looks can be deceiving. He had beer raised utterly devoid of morality, but with a sharp mind and boundless curiosity. It you're unlucky that curiosity todat might be about how long your heart kan still beat after it's been ripped out of your chest. He'd to it with the same look on his face as when he squashes a bug or pours his lucky charms.

(3) The three of them are shameless and either of the two (or both) will climb onto the King's lap on his throne whenever they want to ride his cock. Sometimes the King would slice the Knight's chest and drink his blood as they fuck. He doesn't need demon blood, not any more, but he still likes the taste. Sometimes the kid sucks his cock and licks up any blood he's spilled. They are beautiful together, but no one dares to look for fear of the Knight's wrath.

I love this so fucking much, holy SHIT.

#winkline #dark!winkline #boyking!sam #lilith-the-ancient

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kickingitwithkirk · 4 years

Text

Regina Coeli, Regina Infernum

Pairing: Boyking!Sam Winchester x Reader x Knightofhell!Dean Winchester

Prompt: If you really wanna try it, experiment on me *Sense-Taste

Word Count: 3213

Warnings: 18+ cursing, dirty talk, flirting m/m f/m, kissing m/m m/f, oral m/f giving/receiving, p/v, p/a, dp m/f/m, grace/blood consumption, mentions of death/killing, wincest(kissing only)

**Blasphemy for content- if you are offended by religious tenets or altering of religious tenets please skip this story.

A/N: This is the original version I wrote for #bees5Ksenseschallange before realizing it was way over the max word limit. I’m linking the toned down other version too.

Edited version

Please drop me a comment, it’s appreciated.

A/N II: Latin terms: Puer Rex Infernum-boy king of hell. Regina Coeli- queen of heaven, Regina Infernum-queen of hell. Yeah, my Latin sucks

Divider: created by @writeyourmindaway -I flipped original version for story.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

Sam entered the room without acknowledging his council walked straight to his throne throwing himself onto it.

“Get out.” He said flatly. They looked at each other confused. “Sir, you summoned us here...” The demon exploded in a cloud of fire and smoke before finishing.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” Sam kept his voice level as he raised his left hand and placed his thumb against his middle finger ready to snap the rest of these sycophants out of existence.

Bowing deeply his subordinates back out of the room as fast as possible.

“What crawled up your ass and died today Sammy?” A disembodied voice inquired from a dark corner.

“Watch your mouth or you can get the hell out too Dean.” Sam says abrasively, not in the mood for his brother.

“Hey, I’m just concerned about you. That’s the fourth time this week you’ve called in the council and blew someone up.”

Sam tipped his head back, closing his eyes against the throbbing pain he felt. He barely hears the soughing of Dean's jeans coming towards him.

When he was human, Dean generally was loud on a regular basis unless they were hunting. As a demon, his brother can move so silently even the hell hounds, with their superior auditory senses, can’t detect him.

Dean stops next to his beautiful brother studying him. The strain of ruling hell by himself was showing the longer he sat upon this throne alone.

It had been over five decades since the Demon Curing Ritual had rendered Dean’s restraints useless allowing him to escape. After using a sigil to dispatch Castiel, he hunted Sam mercilessly throughout the bunker before knocking him out with that hammer.

Dean hauled his brother back to the dungeon and after securing him to the chair raided the infirmary searching for the blood transfusion equipment. He ignored a pleading Sam, finally begging to allow him finish the cure.

“Dean, I love you.”

He paused.

Dean’s green eyes shined with all the love he had always felt for his little brother, even before he was born saying, ”I love you too Sammy, but I like the disease,” proceeds to infuse him, pumping tainted blood until he couldn’t pass any more from his body, then sat back and waited.

The bunker's warding burned and its steel reinforced walls groaned from the pressure of an unseen power radiating outwards from the dungeon.

Receiving multiple calls of a strange glow the fire department arrived to find the multistory bunker reduced to nothing but smoldering rubble. When interviewed, the police chief decreed it to be a structure failure and the final resting place of its only known occupants, the eccentric Campbell brothers.

The inferno regions of the Underlands paled in comparison to the ferocity of the Winchester brothers as they stormed the Citadels hallowed halls.

Sam embraced his rightful place as the Puer Rex Infernum with his brother, The Knight of Hell, at his side for eternity.

Long live the Boy King of Hell.

Dean had been standing in front of him staring for nearly an half hour when Sam's sarcasm surfaced, “Take a picture, it'll last longer,” finally opening his onyx eyes. Dean knew he was physically in pain, Sam never wore those eyes otherwise when they were alone.

“What you need..”

“You made it obvious what you think I need Dean, they didn’t help.”

“How many did you get through?” His curiosity peaked.

“All of them.” Sam's voice was strangely dissociated.

Dean blinked in surprise, “You fucked all of them?”

“Fuck and drained, including the guards watching them.”

“Damn Sammy, I’m proud of you!” Dean couldn’t contain his elation, even after all these years, of his brother embracing this life.

Before giving in to their dark sides, Sam was his complete opposite when it came to sex. His encounters were few and far between, preferring, unlike Dean, to have a connection, not just a roll in the hay.

Sam should have been flying high on demon blood topped off by all that pussy and cock, but it was having the opposite effect. He was utterly melancholy.

Dean reached out and gently cupped his cheek, running a calloused thumb over his surprisingly soft, pink lips. Sam’s eyes shifted back to their engaging multi colored hues, softening with the forbidden love for his brother he’s always felt as he gazed at Dean.

Giving into temptation Dean leaned down to taste those lips, whispering against them, “Don’t worry baby brother, I’ll find what you need to stop your pain.”

Dean slammed the heavy ornate door of his private rooms having wasted his time on another fruitless, dead end pursuit. It had been nearly a year since he started his search with nothing to show for it but disappointment and a trail of corpses.

“You look like you need a drink.” A gruff voice called out from his bedroom.

***

Sam had negotiated a truce between Heaven and Hell shortly after taking over. Many of the stipulations we’re only known to the parties directly involved there was one specific item made public.

Someone was chosen to reside in the other's domain as a diplomatic hostage, anything happens to them, the truce was void and all out war would ensue on Earth.

Castiel was the obvious choice for Heaven, believing his close relationship with the brothers could be exploited. He was also granted the ability to freely go between Heaven, Hell and Earth.

What Heaven didn’t expect was his continued loyalty to the Winchesters after they became demons, informing his angelic brethren he refused to be a spy, saying he was neutral like Swedish fish.

Sam’s choice was controversial. He eventually convinced Heaven it was in their best interest for The Cage to be interred there. If it’s corrupted inhabitants were to escape, well, they’d be Heaven's problem to deal with.

Sam then eradicated all of Lucifer’s remaining followers, permitting Dean a public display of what would happen to those who challenged his reign.

***

Dean walked in to find the angel on his bed, casually reclining against the large headboard reading an ancient scroll.

“What are you doing in my bed Cas?”

“Waiting on you Dean.”

Dean’s talented tongue peaked out as he toed off his boots and climbed up onto the bed, crawling across to straddle the angels thighs leaning towards him, “Should've sent for me…” Castiel placed a firm hand in the middle of Dean’s chest halting him.

“I’m not here for that and have no intention of fornicating with you.”

“Come on, play with me Cas, you know you’re dying to know what it’s like to have a big cock deep down your throat,” Dean, using his whiskey roughened tone, blinks slowly as his sexy, makes women instantly wet smile graced his plush lips, “or would you prefer I slip it up that tight ass of yours, help you release those pent up frustrations? If you really wanna try it, experiment on me.”

“You're trying to provoke me only because you are frustrated,” Dean’s expression turned frosty, “but I have found information that will lead us to what you’ve been searching for,” Castiel holds up the scroll for him to read.

Dean takes the scroll from him frowning, “What language is this shit?” He asked, sliding off Cas onto the bed.

“An obscure form of an unpronounceable language. It has taken me the better part of the year and I called in several favors to gain access to Metatron. After persuading him to translate what he could of it, I have now obtained the location of the Regina Coeli.”

“Who?”

“The Queen of Heaven? You want me to take the Virgin Mary as my consort!”

Incredulousness was written on Sam’s face as he looked between Dean and Cas as they sat across from him in his private receiving room.

“I can just see it Sammy, you and the blessed mother. Damn, if we weren’t already in hell.” Dean smarted off, earning “It’s Sam,” and bitchface #127 in response.

Castiel released a long-suffering sigh at his friend's inappropriateness.

“No Sam, I was not referring to her nor the ancient sky goddesses erroneously given the illustrious title,” Cas points to a nondescript illustration of a woman seated upon the throne of Heaven, “I am referring to the one true queen God himself chose to rule over all of his domains in his stead.”

“Chuck's firstborn was an Archangel girl? What’d she do to piss off dear old dad, take the family car without permission for a joyride?” Dean's joke falls flat.

“The translation was vague on the specifics but she is not an Archangel, more of a composite, created from the Light and the Darkness. The rumors indicate she took the Darkness’s side in a disagreement between them. God banished her here as punishment with the stipulation that only a descendant of the First Ones of Father can lay a claim for consort and make her their queen.”

“First Ones? I thought those were the Archangels,” Dean asked, giving Cas a confused look.

“According to the eldest demons Lucifer did try on more than one occasion. Obviously, he was not the one nor any of the other rulers that followed.”

Traveling into the labyrinth beneath the Citadel, Castiel led them through an ancient part of the Underlands neither brother knew existed and stopped in front of a nondescript wall.

Dean cocked his head to the side scrutinizing it, “Fandamntastic wall Cas.”

“Yes, it is.” The Angel replied and walked through it.

Dean reached out his hand coming into contact with the solid surface, “The fuck?”

Castiel’s upper torso reappeared, “Coming Sam?”

Sam shrugs and stepping forward is pulled in. He finds himself in a large catacomb, torches placed statically around to illuminate it. He turns to ask Cas where they are and stops.

In the center sits a raised, polished, black marble obelisk.

Sam stands in front of it studying the carved inscriptions in the same language as the scroll. “It’s a nice piece of marble Cas.” He comments unimpressed.

Castiel did something strange. He smiled at Sam, a full on grinning like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland smile.

Sam’s ingrained hunter’s instincts kick in before his eyes shift to their onyx color, using his demonic powers to scan the area around them searching for an immediate threat but encounters something unexpected.

“I have been waiting a long time for you.”

Sam found himself standing in an expanse of pure white, it’s vastness of nothing surrounding him. There is the barest of sounds behind him and in what was empty space seconds ago now sits two high backed thrones. One is from illustration on the scroll, the other his. Sam wonders how he missed the fact they were matching except for color.

Drawing up to his imposing height ready to defend himself he walks towards them cautiously. Sensing no imminent danger Sam takes a seat upon his and waits for what is to happen next.

Sam's eyes snapped towards a subtle sound of feathers rustling beside him. On the throne sits a woman staring at him.

“Are you the Regina Coeli?” Sam inquires in awe that she isn’t anything like he imagined.

Slowly blinking Y/C/E, she nods once.

“Why did you bring me here?” Sam gestures to the empty space surrounding them.

“It was necessary, I have no other way of communicating otherwise.”

Sam cocked his head unable to figure out how she is projecting her thoughts to him.

Long ago he learned how to shield himself from others when one of the late Princes of Hell tried using a telepath to oust him from the throne. It had taken ages for the cleaners to remove all the bits left after Dean eviscerated them.

She dropped her chin given him a coy smile, “It is because you were made for me.”

“What do you mean made for you? I don’t understand.”

“The one who can claim me as consort is descended from the First Ones of Father and that is you.”

“The First Ones were the Archangels.”

“The Archangels were created from The Nothing. The First Ones of Father were created on Earth.”

“The First Ones...you mean Adam and Eve?”

“Adam and Lilith.”

“They didn’t have any children before God cast Lilith out as a demon.”

“Yes, they did. You and your brother are their descendants.”

“We’re descended from Cain and Abel...”

“Who were Lilith’s offspring, not Eve. It is why those directly descended from her were marked for the Apocalypse.”

Sam ponders this information a while, yet another piece of the puzzle that was their lives clicking into place.

“Lilith possessed free will, unlike Eve. It was passed on to her descendants as punishment.”

“And has led you here to me.”

“What's your name? I can’t just call you Regina Coeli.”

“Father gave me no name like his son’s, he only called me daughter.” She told him sounding sad, “what name do you like?”

“You want me to give you a name?” She nodded eagerly waiting for his answer. Sam looked at her contemplatively never having had a favorite female name, the only one that truly mattered in his life was Dean.

“I’ll call you Y/N.”

She stood up and moved to stand in front of Sam.

“Before you commit to this, know that this is a symbiotic relationship, you won’t need to feed on demon blood anymore, we’ll feed off each other.”

Y/N produces a knife more delicate than Ruby’s and runs it across her wrist leaking some of her grace, and offering it to Sam, he takes her arm and sucks on the wound briefly.

“But there’s one stipulation....”

“Whatever it is you can have it.” Sam breaths out, his body craving more than just a taste of her grace.

“All domains are mine, including the Underlands, as decreed by Father.”

Sam's eyes shifted onyx with displeasure, “Hell is my domain and I don’t play well with others who try to subvert me.”

Y/N smiled mischievously and climbed onto his lap, “I freely give it to you but remember, the others are mine and I don’t play well either. Do you agree to my terms?” she retorts in a dark, cheeky manner. Sam picks up her long braid, playing with the trailing silver ribbons tied around its end.

“Agreed.”

Sam and Y/N stepped through the wall to find a relieved Dean and pissed off Castiel, who took his leave.

As they traveled back to the Citadel Dean couldn’t take his eyes off of Y/N. This would have normally angered Sam but she had informed him even though they were technically demons, Dean was still his soulmate so she could bond with him too if Sam wished.

After introducing her to the court, who insisted their bonding was completed in front of a witness, they retreated to Sam’s private chambers.

Dean moved in front of her, caressing her cheek and licked his plush lips, “She looks so sweet Sammy.”

Sam hums in agreement moving behind her drawing her flush against him and kissing along her neck asks, “You wanna taste Y/N Dean,” as he grips the material around her waist and lifts her dress upwards, slowly unveiling her body to his brother. Dean’s eyes dilate with hunger as it teasingly travels upward, revealing she is nude under it.

“Lift your arms,” Sam tells her and pulls it completely off, dropping it and resting his chin on Y/N’s shoulder and starts playing with her nipples as she wraps her arms behind his neck for balance, spreading her legs to give Dean access between them.

Dean dropped to his knees and looking to Sam for permission, runs his tongue over her outer lips, tasting that she’s already wet before parting them, making her quiver with pleasure.

“Dean loves the taste of pussy, he could eat you out for hours. Would you like that Y/N?” Sam moaned at her response, “He will later,” reaching down gripped his brother's short hair tugging him back roughly, “it’s my turn now.”

Sam laid back on his bed high on her grace as Y/N straddles him, pinning his arms down next to his head and leaned in brushing her lips across his in a tender kiss.

“Keep your hands to yourself till I’m done with you.”

She kissed down the long line of his neck pausing below his tattoo to tease his left nipple with her tongue before biting down making him shiver in pleasure. Sam’s cock hardened even more as her lips, light as the dusting of a feather, traversed downwards over his abs halting at the v of his hips and gripping his cock in her hand dipped the tip of her tongue into his slit, tasting precum pearling out before taking just the head into her mouth sucking on it, her tongue over moving in random patterns over the sensitive nerves underneath it.

Sam groaned in pleasure feeling the sweetest sting of the blade along the crease of his leg, his hot blood pulsating to the surface. He watched as she released his cock, lowering her head and, without breaking eye contact, licked along the flowing wound, tasting his deliciously tainted blood.

Y/N continuously moved her hands over every bit of his skin she could reach while nursing at the wound. Sam started feeling light headed from being drained but at the same time euphoric with desire as he unabatedly cums on his stomach.

Dean, writhing in his seat observing them, presses down on his cock to deny himself cumming watches Y/N using her tongue to clean Sam’s spending's as he’s still spurting.

Resting her head on his hip Y/N asks Sam something making him smile, “Y/N wants to know if I will allow you to join us now,” his eyes telling Dean to hurry the hell up and get naked.

He strips in record time, climbs on the enormous bed straddling him behind Y/N, teasingly rubbing his cock through her folds. “How do you want us sweetheart? You want Sammy’s unrelenting cock pounding this scrumptious pussy and me down your throat?” Dean strokes her throat, “How about both us in your tight cunt, ravaging it together?” He trailed his left hand down Y/N’s torso and inserted two of his thick fingers in her feeling her clenching.

“Or maybe prefer me here,” tapping his cock head against her tight little hole before slipping his dripping tip in past the tight ring of muscle making her jolt then quiver with pleasure as she pushes back till he’s fully seated in her.

“That’s it, get nice and stretched out on my cock,” Dean bit his lip moaning as she worked herself up and down on him, “ ‘cause once Sammy’s been in here, you’ll know it for a long time.

Sam, unwilling to wait any longer, grabs his self and pushes in next to Dean’s thick fingers, ramming his massive cock into her drenched cunt, forcing her to stretch around him and not stopping until he was balls deep in her. Y/N gasped silently, overwhelmed by the sensations she hadn’t felt in millennia.

“Easy there tiger, we have eternity to play with our new toy.”

Forever tags: @donnaintx

#all saints day reblog #boyking!sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural #knightofhell!dean winchester #supernatural fanfic #supernatural au #dean winchester x reader #knightofhell!dean winchester x reader

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autisticandroids · 4 years

Note

in my humble onion if sam/Rowena is endgame she should still be queen of hell. if Dean gets to date a ruler of hell so does sam. as a treat

i like sam/rowena dean/cas bunker cohabitation too much for that, but also for sam/eileen/rowena sam and eileen DO get to be prince consort and princess consort of hell

#spn #asks #Anonymous

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orionsangel86 · 5 years

Note

I'm tired of this discussion about Saileen or Samwena. Why can't be both? I recognize the potential that Sam and Rowena had for a romantic relationship, they really seemed to be going in that direction, and as Rowena said, they'd grown fond of each other. But I also recognize the potential that Sam and Eileen have for a romantic relationship, for reasons that we all saw at s11, s12 and s15. What do you think?

Hi there!

Is this discussion still ongoing? Since I have blocked it all out to be honest and refuse to engage in drama on the topic. But since you asked I will give you my thoughts on the whole Saileen/Samwena thing.

First of all I like your thinking! Why not both indeed! I don’t care for shipping wars but here’s the way I see things. I have never been a “death of the author” kind of person. My whole process for writing meta is what I think the writers and creators of the show are intending to convey when they tell the story that we see. In season 11, Eileen was introduced as a clear love interest for Sam. She has always been portrayed this way even after her untimely death (which I still believe only happened because they didn’t have any other close characters to the brothers at the time to kill off whose actors they could get last minute and whose death would be equally shocking - I know it’s just speculation but it’s my belief). I wrote a long post here about my love for Saileen and how it has been portrayed in the show. I am firmly still a Saileen shipper because it was just perfect from the start, but also I only ever “ship” things that I see within the show as being planted purposely by the creators. I ship Saileen because Saileen has always been a thing ya know? It’s not imaginary and never has been.

However, following Eileen’s death in Season 12, Sam and Rowena’s relationship has been heavily developed on. They bonded over their shared Lucifer trauma, their experiences with fear and their interest in magic. The relationship between them is complex and very much an enemies to friends (to something more?) set up. Sam is canonically Rowena’s protege and now her heir. The mutual respect they hold for each other is clearly noticeable and their destinies tied by fate through Billie’s death books could arguably be considered romantic. Basically, Sam and Rowena as a love story is certainly a dramatic and interesting one that ticks a lot of boxes for a lot of people. I do believe that for a time, the writers flirted with the idea of them as a romantic pairing and that there was clear authorial intent to code their relationship in a romantic way. Especially in seasons 13 and 14. Whilst I never “shipped” Samwena, I guess I saw it the way I see Drowley. I believed that it was being intentionally written with romantic undertones. I was all for it as a romantic pairing, have never been against it, but it didn’t feel me with “feels” either I guess. I love both Sam and Rowena individually, and whether the story took them in a romantic direction or not wouldn’t have bothered me. Had Eileen never come back, I would have squee’d and enjoyed it with the rest of you, even if I wasn’t super invested ya know?

I think a lot of people saw their relationship as romantic after the Billie death book reveal. It was a nice idea that Rowena’s “death” at Sam’s hands might be a metaphorical death where she would choose to give up her immortality for him. (It’s also an idea generally adored by Destiel shippers so it’s not surprising that this was something people got excited about).

Unfortunately this idea didn’t pan out and Sam literally had to kill Rowena. I am one of the people who really loved her death scene, because it felt like a true redemption and moment of empowerment for Rowena. I know that there are people who will disagree with me on that and that is absolutely fine. I guess for me, Rowena making that ultimate sacrifice just felt right for her character journey at that point because true redemption was something she still needed. Rowena was always previously an anti-hero character. She had still done a lot of bad and hadn’t really repented or redeemed herself for the bad she had done in the earlier seasons. She was still generally motivated by selfish desires and still pretty much made decisions for herself, though like Crowley, her respect and care for the Winchesters conflicted with her own selfish motivations and in the later seasons she chose to help them even at risk to herself, which put her well on her way to redemption of course. But this death was her actual redemption. Her true sacrifice, purely selfless deed, in order to not only save the Winchesters, but also the world.

Therefore I see her rise to power again as Queen of Hell as a reward for her sacrifice and redemption. I never believed that 15x03 was the last we’d see of her (too much womb and maternal imagery there). I believe that Queen of Hell is a satisfactory end point for her, having reached her full potential and freeing herself of all the former oppression and bindings that she faced. She is now one of the most powerful beings in the universe along with Chuck, Amara, Billie, the Empty, Eve, and Jack. It’s a position that makes sense for a character who has always desired unlimited power.

I also think that Rowena will continue to be a big player in the story. This definitely isn’t the last we’ve seen of her in terms of fighting the final boss battle, but her position as Queen of Hell I do think will remain a fixed position from here. Though if it isn’t, and the writers have something else wonderful in store for her, I will also be happy with that too.

Given that canonically Sam and Eileen desire and want each other, and are only being separated by Chuck (and look, I’m not gonna get real deep into it, but I felt that 15x09 did go far to stress that whilst Chuck set up the reunion because he wanted “romance” in his story, the feelings, the connection, and everything else between Sam and Eileen is 100% real. Sam textually states that it’s real after all (in a nice and also emotionally destroying mirror to Cas saying the same thing to Dean in 15x02 by the way - Forever a Destiel shipper here :P)) it is logical that Sam and Eileen will reunite and rekindle their romance at some point in a coming episode. I am of the belief that Saileen is probably our endgame here. I don’t think that they would have gone to the trouble to bring Eileen back in the final season, make her a love interest for Sam, only to either kill her off, kill him off, or separate them again and not have them be endgame.

But I could be totally wrong. Could Sam and Rowena still reunite and start a new love connection? Sure it’s possible. Rowena is coming back as well I would put money on it. We don’t know how the show plans to end after all. Who knows, maybe Sam will also sacrifice himself and go to hell and that whole Boy!King dropped story arc from season 3 will finally get picked up again! Sam and Rowena as Queen and consort of Hell could be quite an amusing and somewhat fitting end for them! The two characters who suffered most at Lucifer’s hands taking over and ruling Hell as a big fuck you to their tormentor is certainly poetic.

Maybe Supernatural will go super progressive and send Eileen to Hell too. Maybe the Queen will find herself in a loving polyamorous threesome for the rest of eternity?

Wouldn’t it actually be really fun if Supernatural ends with Castiel choosing humanity, and saying goodbye to his son Jack, who takes over the rule of Heaven, and at the same time Dean chooses to stay on Earth, and says goodbye to his brother (aka son) Sam, who takes over the rule of Hell as consort to the Queen in his new polyamorous relationship with both the Queen and his girlfriend? Dean and Cas live out a happy human life knowing they are the proud parents of the new rulers of Heaven and Hell?!?

Lol. Look I’m just trying to find a compromise here that all Samwena and Saileen shippers can agree on and if there is one thing we can all generally agree on it’s that Dean and Cas need to stay together whatever happens and fuck it out on the map table. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I’m joking of course. (or am I?!?)

So yeah. I follow people who are passionate Samwena shippers, and I follow people who are passionate Saileen shippers. I consider them all people who I care about and respect. I just want everyone to get along and if a polyamorous love threesome in Hell is how we go about that then I am totally down for that. :D

I haven’t got beef with anyone regardless of who they ship with who unless they plan to start harassing people for holding a different opinion, but I’ve already blocked all those people anyway. It makes for a much easier life. Trust me. :P

#saileen #samwena #destiel #sam x eileen #sam x rowena #sam winchester #rowena #eileen leahy #season 15 #spn speculation #spn meta #witch queen of hell #shipping wars #my thoughts #asks #anon #Anonymous

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ao3feedsastiel · 5 years

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Holding On

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2V3fWWn

by Anonymous

None of them listened to Rowena when she argued against Castiel being allowed to go look for Gabriel in his current condition, so she went along to make sure he was okay.

But then none of them imagined the lengths Chuck would to go to hurt his son, and torment the new rulers of Hell.

Words: 2279, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Castiel, Rowena MacLeod, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Relationships: Castiel/Sam Winchester, Castiel & Rowena MacLeod & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Additional Tags: Mpreg, Pregnant Castiel, Protective Rowena MacLeod, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Scared Castiel, Scared Rowena, Survival Situation, graphic labor, Zombies, chuck is a bastard, BAMF Rowena, BAMF Castiel, King Of Hell Sam Winchester, Knight of Hell Dean Winchester, Consort Castiel, The Winchesters Are Now Demons

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2V3fWWn

#fanfic #ao3feed sastiel #supernatural

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ao3feed-castiel · 2 years

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Losing My Religion

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/G973g51

by Quinn_Eleanor

One-shot. Complete. Boy King of Hell Sam/Consort Dean.

They live at 256 Apricot Lane.

The mansions surrounding 256 Apricot Lane lie dormant. Their windows, soulless eyes. Their doors, gaping maws. Their lawns, overgrown and teeming with wildlife.

Before fire razed the earth and the virus ravaged the people, 256 Apricot Lane sat in the center of the exclusive, upscale gated community known as Mercy Heights. It offered the ultimate in amenities, privacy, and safety.

Words: 2310, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Ruby (Supernatural), Bobby Singer, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Additional Tags: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Evil Sam Winchester, Ruler of Hell Sam Winchester/Consort Dean Winchester, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Consort to the Ruler of Hell Dean Winchester, Post-Apocalypse, Croatoan Virus (Supernatural), Season/Series 04

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/r1YiO9q

#IFTTT #cas #castiel #spn #supernatural #ao3feed

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amazon-me-bitches · 7 years

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Listen you can hate Jared all you want but for my followers, if you found “does this rag smell like chloroform to you?” offensive then you are way too sensitive for my content.

Then again i post some crazy crazy stuff including incest and rape-esque stories, bdsm, and i am all about Sam being ruler of hell and having Dean as his consort. i like it when people push the envelope. i get it is not for everyone but i would like to say, i can tell when someone is strictly joking or when there is some truth to their joke, something they truely believe is okay. and Jared is one of the kindest, sweetest humans ever and Jensen activly protected women from predatory men so... i highly doubt they are pro rape. but then again you guys also went after Jared for giving a hotel a bad review so. you guys want perfection but they are not perfect and never will be so how about we all just lighten up a bit?

#spn #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #supernatural

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azazelsocks · 7 years

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vengeuse replied to your post: sometimes i think it would be really fun to try a...

you have a lot of scenarios??? i would like to hear them all thank you

LMAO OKAY UH HERE’S A CUT IT’S 1.3K OF ME BABBLING ABOUT BOY KING SAM

THE CLASSIC: it’s s4, Dean has gone to Hell, and with Ruby’s help Sam storms Hell to get him back

RESULT 1: Dean is already a demon. Depending on how Sam was characterized this could either end really serial-killer-y with them staying in Hell together or maybe Sam, using his newfound Hell resources, isn’t okay with it and tries to cure Dean? Boy king Sam trying to cure a demon is kind of hilarious to me because I don’t think any other demons would be okay with it they’d all be like “WTF my lord, what’s wrong with being a demon” and Sam would be like “no no it’s not that I don’t like demons it’s just that this one can’t be a demon” but that would also be so tied up in self-hatred for Sam because he’s a demon he just feels like he actually deserves it ahhhhhhh

RESULT 2: Dean is not a demon yet. Sam has to choose between Hell & his brother. On my Dean-negative days this ends way differently than on my non-canon Dean-is-a-good-brother days lol. either way, sam stays the boy king. you can’t take that back.

RESULT 3: The angels got there first. Sam is like “well that’s... not the worst thing that could have happened” but as he learns about the plans for the apocalypse, it starts seeming a whole lot worse. + because Sam isn’t actually there with Dean, I figure it would be even easier to manipulate Dean into thinking that his brother is a lost cause and he needs to say yes to save the world. Sam declares war. this one could end all sorts of ways like maybe Sam looses Lucifer by accident preventing Lilith from taking his throne and it runs pretty close to canon; maybe Sam faces down with Michael at the end and kills the vessel Dean in the process; maybe we get endverse but it’s actually Sam in the white suit this time!!!

actually i just thought of the endverse ending and i fucking love it i’m keeping that as a scenario on its own

THE POLY S4: Dean comes back from Hell, but he’s still a demon. Sam is with Ruby (who in this AU does not intend to raise Lucifer). Dean is upset because he’s a possessive fuck, but he’s also gained something of a new perspective being a demon, and it’s like... basically all Dean x Ruby fighting over Sam with Ruby usually winning because she has more experience and Ruby is all like “You’re not the only one who loves Sam or the only one Sam loves” and Dean is like “-splutters-” but eventually after a disaster they come to a truce to get rid of Lilith and put Sam on the throne and it’s a happy poly V or triad, whichever you prefer

THE PRODIGY: Sam doesn’t make it out of the house with Dean and John and is raised by Azazel from six months old. I don’t know where this one goes I just like the idea of it. sometimes the other special children are his siblings and sometimes he’s the only child, the heir from the beginning.

THE KNIGHT OF HELL: s9 Dean gets Sam back on the blood. I don’t really like the way most fics go with this bc they always end with Sam really dependent on Dean and like ... ehhhhhh. (This sambenny one by waterbird13 is a really good take on it tho not boyking) BUT I do like the idea of Sam pretending to drink it for Dean but actually taking it for the power boost. Thought you could lead Sam around like Ruby did?? THINK AGAIN. HE’S KING NOW.

THE RACK: The crossroads demon won’t trade Sam for Dean, but he does offer Sam a way into Hell. See what you can do with that, he says. Better than what you’ve got now, right? (Look, if you like boy!king and you haven’t read Threefold Path To Redemption what the fuck are you even doing unless you don't like wincest or torture then okay)

TORTURER 1: it’s Dean whooooo is surprised. I have this headcanon that the longer a demon stays on the rack, the more powerful they are when they get off so I personally like this one because I just have this image in my head of Sam finally agreeing to get off the rack and Dean is thrilled and lets him off and then Sam force-slams him and grits out “We’re getting out of here.” Except once a man tortured into demonhood always a man tortured into demonhood OOOH especially because he wasn’t dead when he went to Hell (that would cheat Dean’s deal). (and yeah you have to shed blood in Hell but it doesn’t say torture I think murdering a bunch of demons on the way out probably counts)

TORTURER 2: it’s someone else, Sam’s personal Alastair, who raises not a torturer but a king. tasty

THE QUEER RULER: This one is just one where Sam is trans (sometimes I like it to be trans girl Sam and sometimes I like it to be trans boy Sam or nb!Sam) & it’s like...one more thing for people to be disgusted by and it drives home the “freak/pariah” themes they were going with Sam (kind of overshadowed by the addict themes, but they’re there) and then Sam takes the throne and fucking. owns it. this one is just cathartic for me cos i am trans

THE ANGELS: Sam has been dreaming of an angel with blue eyes and he doesn’t know why. I don’t know why either, but I do like me a Hades/Persephone boy king sastiel mmmm

THE SELF-INDULGENT SAMCEST: these ones are just... you know what, don’t judge me.

YOUNG SAM’S WORLD: idfk but this one is like a sitcom where Sam is still in Stanford and something fucked up on the boy king’s end and he ended up in Sam’s dorm and is out of juice so he has to crash for the time being. Shenanigans with Brady! Shenanigans with Sams! God, why can’t Sam’s life be normal!

BOY KING’S WORLD: Somehow regular!Sam ends up in the world where he’s the boy king (ANOTHER FIC REC (SASSY/GEN)) anyways

1: Boy king Sam’s Dean has been dead for years; really, properly, inaccessibly gone. Mad with grief, he performs a summoning spell across dimensions (if he can’t have his Dean, a different one will do) with the Samulet as the focal point, but it’s a Sam that ends up in the circle instead of a Dean. This Sam has the Samulet on him because in his world, Dean died as well, before Sam was 18, and it was the catalyst for Sam leaving. These Sams have some things to learn from each other, cos other Sam has managed to deal with his grief and move on, and boy king Sam has managed to deal with his destiny, so I just think it would be a fun character study

2: Older Sam (s9-s11 i haven’t watched s12 yet but i probably will when it comes to netflix) fucks up a spell and ends up in Boy King Sam’s world. Older Sam is a little shellshocked from the travel, meeting his other self, and like...how much respect his other self commands? his other self even has friends and trusted confidants? being a hell-bound freak didn’t ruin his other self’s life? Boy King Sam figures out both a spell & Older Sam’s emotional state, and, because, well, he’s really helping himself, sends Older Sam back to his dimension with a few tips and some contacts from the old guard of demons who wanted Sam on the throne from the beginning. MAYBE THEY FUCK IN HERE SOMEWHERE

okay i’ve run out WAIT NO

THE SEASON NINE: Gadreel happens. Crowley happens. Being possessed by a demon for the first time since...Meg? reawakens Sam’s powers, cleanly, without the use of blood (he SHOULD be able to use them without blood, everyone else could) and SAM IS FUCKING PISSED. The healthy way to resolve this is Sam just leaves forever and fixes the big bad by killing/recruiting Abaddon.

but I also have a pissy catharsis dean-whump version where Sam, furious, does exactly what Abaddon threatened, burns off Dean’s tattoo, and lets his most favorite demon have Dean’s body indefinitely. See how you like it, Dean. (HAS DEAN EVER FUCKING BEEN POSSESSED EVER??? NO????? WE JUST GOT THE ABADDON SCENE. MAKE IT HAPPEN WRITERS.)

okay that’s actually all of them. for now. maybe i’ll come up with more later! do you see my dilemma

EDIT: TWO MORE THAT I FORGOT

THE SPECIAL CHILDREN: it occurs to me that since the foresight kids (sam & ava) had initial visions keyed into the other psychic kids to start with… if sam had gone with Meg proper in Scarecrow and done a little focusing, it would have been unbelievably easy for him to find the other special children. whenever he summoned a vision he’d know where another one was. he could have hunted the non-premonitionary kids down before the death matches even started happening. he coulda won before there was even a competition

THE DEAD FAMILY: there are some who headcanon that hellfire takes you, guess what, straight to hell. Sam gets to hell, and finds his mother and his girlfriend are there?? obviously he rescues them from whatever tortures they may or may not have endured. jess learns all of sam, no more secrets, and sam gets to learn who mary is (and mary tells sam she was sorry, it wasn’t his fault she died).

EDIT THE SECOND: EVEN MORE THAT I FORGOT

THE FALLEN ANGEL: Instead of falling in love with humanity, Castiel falls in love with the boy who the entire world hates, whose destiny is to rule Hell, and yet is still pure of heart & soul. When he gives up Heaven, he gives it up to go to Hell.

THE GODSTIEL: Sam is the boy king. Cas is God. Enemies to lovers. A lot of snarky negotiation between the two as they duke out what exactly the roles of Heaven and Hell will be in this new world order.

CONSORT!DEAN: aka, what 90% of boy king fics are. i don’t really care? but it probably deserves a place here anyways.

THE REPLACEMENT: all those wincest aus where Sam uses another person as a surrogate Dean. fleshflutter had an amazing and absolutely horrifying one with adult!Ben. i have one with frenchmistake!jensen. absolutely terrible.

THE AMPUTEE: Sam’s coup goes poorly and results in him being really physically fucked up, but successful. Compatible with most other AUs. Basically like...what if Sam wasn’t the all powerful godking we usually picture but just, still Sam, fighting through broken arms and missing fingers, and being badass at the same time.

If anyone reading this wants to steal one of these idears and write a fic/do art, blease, i will sacrifice my firstborn child to your boyking

#vengeuse #uhhh #this is long.#boy king sam #sock talks (to people)#THERE'S LIKE NINETEEN OF THESE WTF AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE

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