#demon dean one shot

[wayward-dreamer]

Playing With Fate

Square/s filled: "You need to get your strength back" @anyfandomkinkbingo (quote in bold) |

Pairing: Demon!Dean x F!Reader

Word count: 3,545

Summary: Y/N offers to help with the search for Dean after he becomes a demon and leaves the bunker. Her plan doesn't go the way she intended, but that didn't mean it wasn't a desired outcome.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, smut: dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, hair pulling, choking, spanking, dacryphilia, degradation, dubcon, rough sex, mirror sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up people), squirting, I think that's it, but lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: Please blame the s10 rewatch I was in the middle of for this. I take no responsibility for the level of horny everyone's going to be after this lmao... Also, I've done things a little differently with this one, so I hope y'all enjoy! As always thanks to my loves @hintsofhoney and @makeadealwithdean for betaing this. Don't know where I'd be without either of you <3

What the fuck am I doing?

That was the first thought that entered Y/N’s mind, but it was fleeting, disappearing as she looked up at Dean from her submissive position on her knees, her mouth wrapped tight around his thick girth as her hands pressed into the muscle of his bare thighs. His gaze was intense, green orbs that occasionally gave way to solid black, something she had never anticipated would arouse her the way it had from the first moment he revealed them to her. He caressed her hollowed cheeks with his thumb, his other hand in her hair as her head bobbed back and forth, taking his length deep into her throat. It soon wasn’t enough for him, his grip tightening in her strands as he held her still, his pelvis smacking vigorously against her. Saliva dripped in long strings around her mouth as he chuckled, relishing in the way she choked and gagged around him, the glugging of her throat adding to the pleasurable cacophony that reached his ears.

Tears pricked her eyes as she moaned and spluttered around his shaft, her own thighs squeezing together to keep her arousal at bay for a moment. He noticed the way she squirmed, the way her flesh pressed tightly, the signs of her need obvious to him. He drew back from her throat, a harsh gasp leaving as her lungs burned, her chest heaving as she sucked in air and met his gaze.

“Spread your legs, sweetheart,” he ordered, grinning as he wiped her saliva around her lips. “Want that pussy of yours as wet as your mouth, got it?”

“Y-Yes,” she stuttered, nodding weakly.

“Yes what?” he growled, tugging at the roots of her hair and making her whimper.

“Yes sir,” she added, staring up at him.

The smirk never left his face as he thrusted into her waiting mouth once more. Following his instruction and opening her legs, her fingers moving between them and finding her clit already lightly covered in her wetness. She moaned wantonly as she circled the swollen nub, her eyes fluttering with the euphoria that coursed through her. Not only at the feeling of her hand between her legs, but at the way he was using her, and the shame of willingly letting him fading away with every plunge of his cock into her throat.

This hadn’t been the plan when she first found him. Far from it, in fact.

When Sam had called her with the location of the bar Dean had been frequenting, she had full intention of stepping in and setting him straight. He had warned her about Dean being a demon now, something that had happened several weeks before and which she chastised him for not telling her sooner. She could’ve helped and maybe with their “geek brains” together, as the elder Winchester liked to call them, they could’ve found him sooner. She wished she had known; her and Dean were friends, and she hated the fact that she hadn’t been there for him.

Friends were supposed to look out for each other. Especially those types of friends that were sometimes, on occasion, more than that.

Nevertheless, Sam said he would join her but she insisted on doing this alone, not listening to his protests and telling him to call her back once he had found Dean’s whereabouts.

When Y/N walked into that dive and took a seat at the bar, her eyes immediately found him. There he sat, at a table in the middle of the room, whiskey tumbler in hand. He didn’t look any different to the normal Dean she knew, not even when a blonde waitress came over to him and handed him another glass, draping her arm across his broad shoulders. She shrugged it off, now wasn’t the time to get jealous. She ordered herself a whiskey too, taking it and facing the room, crossing one leg over the other which allowed her denim skirt to ride up her thigh. That along with a tight, black tank top and black heeled ankle boots were her attire for the night; completely different to the usual hunter gear she’d be wearing but she needed something to catch his eye.

And sure enough, it did.

Dean had always had a higher level of awareness thanks to being a hunter, but after becoming a demon it had become a sixth sense. A familiar energy caught his attention as soon as it stepped into the room, his head lifting up to meet Y/N’s eyes as she stared back at him. He hadn’t seen her for a while, and if she was here that meant Sam had gotten to her. He had the initial thought of sending her on her way as he stood up, but as he made his way over to her, caught the way her thighs pressed together where they were crossed, he knew he could have some fun with her.

A grin pulled at his face as he gazed down at her, seeing her perfect mouth taking his intimidating length with each thrust, and he was glad that he had been right. It had been a long time since they had been together like this, and it was clear that he hadn’t taken advantage of their situation as often as he should have from the way she was working her tongue around him. She was unmistakably desperate to please him, to be with him in any way possible, even if he did have a new set of black eyes.

He had no problem exploiting that fact.

“Look so good choking on my cock, baby,” he groaned, holding her down against his pelvis.

His hand tightened in her hair once more and pulled her off his cock again, a dark chuckle escaping him as he heard her shuddering breath. Saliva hung off the edge of her chin, dripping onto the swell of her breasts, her eyes wide as she waited obediently for whatever he had planned for her next.

“Stand in front of the mirror,” he instructed, glancing up at the corner of the room before looking back at her. “Want you to see yourself losing control while I fuck you.”

Y/N somehow found the strength to stand from her position on the floor, the burning in her limbs only adding to the fire that was rising within her with each staggered step towards the mirror. Her appearance reflecting back to her was already a mess; her hair tangled in certain places, saliva drying and hardening at the edges of her mouth. As she spread her legs and curled her hands on either side of the frame, Dean stepped up behind her, calloused fingers sliding down the smooth skin of her back. Their eyes briefly met in the mirror before his gaze shifted down, following the movement of his hands as they admired the curve of her ass, a groan escaping him as his thumb grazed her puckered hole down to the sticky, wet warmth of her folds. She gasped as she felt the thick digit slide back and forth, no doubt wetting his skin as her arousal grew and dripped from her sex.

“So fucking wet,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, but he finally left his eyes and addressed her again. “Ready to take my cock, aren’t ya?”

Her lack of response earned her a heavy hand against the flesh of her ass, causing a yelp to escape her. Her eyes widened as they made contact with his, narrowed and glaring at her through the mirror. He had barely done anything to her and she was already overwhelmed by his actions. Her mind was caught somewhere between not knowing how much more she could take, and wanting to take everything he had to give. Now that he was a demon, she had no idea how much that was, but she was more than willing to find out.

His hand came down twice more in quick succession, making her jolt forward as she shrieked. The sting was intense but delicious as the sensation spread through her whole body, and she knew this was only the beginning.

“You better be fucking ready for me, sweetheart. ‘Cause I ain’t holding back.”

The implication of his words was clear. He wasn’t the Dean she knew anymore, and she shouldn’t expect him to be.

A brief nod was all she could muster as an answer to his earlier question, and that was all he needed. He brought his thumb to his mouth, glistening with her wetness as his plump lips wrapped around it. He kept his gaze on the reflection in front of him, their eyes locked as she breathed heavily, a groan leaving him as he sucked at the digit and took hold of his shaft, rubbing it through her folds. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him do that; taste her off his fingers,  but it hit differently now.

Before she could register what was happening, he lined himself to her entrance and slammed into her, her walls sheathing his thickness completely as a ragged moan fell from her lips.

The sound was a harsh contrast to the soft whimper that she had tried to suppress when he sat down in front of her at the bar, flagging down the bartender and ordering himself another whiskey. He turned to her, his eyes taking her in as they roamed down her frame, an eyebrow lifting in approval at her low cut top and the way her skirt had ridden up slightly, exposing more of her thigh as she sat.

“Didn’t think Sammy would send someone else to do his job,” he started, sipping his whiskey once it was in front of him. “Guess he’s losing practice without me, huh?”

“He didn’t send me,” she clarified, trying to remain firm in his presence. “And there’s a quick fix for that. Just come home.”

He scoffed, chuckling as he dropped his head and shook it. “No fucking way.”

The bite and careless lilt of his laugh and words stung, but she couldn’t dwell on it.

“Dean, this isn’t you,” she reasoned.

“Oh, but it is, Y/N,” he countered, as he turned on the bar stool and leaned his forearms back on the bar, his eyes never leaving her. “It’s the new me.”

Green irises flashed to solid black, holding her gaze long enough for a fear she had never experienced before to run down her back. Along with another strange yet familiar feeling between her legs. Strange because this wasn’t the time or place for it. As his eyes quickly returned to normal, Y/N’s jaw clenched as she stared up at him.

“Dean, look, you don’t have any options here,” she stated, pushing her drink aside and reaching into the left pocket of her denim skirt. “You’re coming with me back to the bunker, and Sam’s gonna get to work on curing you. End of discussion.”

Dean sipped his drink as he watched her take out a pair of silver handcuffs, devil’s traps carved into them. He slowly placed his drink down as he smirked, his gaze shifting from them up to her. “I think those are gonna look better on you tonight, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes, but she knew they weren’t as effective as usual. He was getting under her skin and they both knew it. From her other pocket, she pulled out the top of a flask as she stared up at him, waiting for him to look back at her as he glanced down.

“Don’t make this harder-” she started but his sinister scoff stopped her.

His green eyes, that once held so much admiration for her, were now void of any kind of emotion as he finally looked at her. Slowly, the shift almost imperceptible, his face hovered an inch away from hers.  “I thought you liked it hard, Y/N. Hard… fast… so rough you wanna feel that ache between your legs for days.”

A shuddered exhale fell from her lips, one she hadn’t realized she had been holding, causing him to chuckle.

“So how ‘bout you stop wastin’ your breath on this back and forth,” he continued, gesturing between them as a smirk spread across his face. “And admit that you’re real curious to know what it’s like to get fucked by a demon.”

Their gazes remained locked as he tested the waters; tested whether temptation would coax her into letting him corrupt her for no other reason than pleasurable amusement. He saw the way fear, guilt and thirst circled in the depths of her eyes, and he hoped it was the last of those that would win.

As Dean peered into those eyes once again, through the mirror’s reflection, he saw all of those things give way to euphoria as he pounded deep into the tight heat between her thighs.

Y/N barely recognized the face staring back at her. Hooded eyes, her mouth agape as a string of erotic noises escaped her with every slap of his hips against the curve of her ass. He had been right. She did enjoy sex when it was harder, faster, so rough that she felt the constant throb at the apex of her thighs. The Dean she knew was well aware of that fact, and this Dean, this… twisted version of him was using that to his full advantage. She wasn’t sure if she was willingly letting him, or if he was coercing her into this sinful act, but it was bliss.

A heavy hand slid up her back and into the strands of her hair, pulling harshly as his sweat slicked chest pressed up against her. His breath fanned over her ear and cheek as they stared at each other. A loud, lustful cry erupted from between her lips as the head of his cock drove deeper into her at this new angle, reaching places within her that hadn’t been explored in a long time. A tear brimmed at the corner of her waterline, rolling down slowly as another followed from the other, her thoughts as overwhelmed as her body by everything she was feeling. He laughed in her ear, the sound wicked as it rumbled from his chest against her back, watching the tears make tracks on her face.

Dean leaned down, the tip of his tongue slipping out between his pouty lips and dragging over the skin, the tang against his taste buds making him groan. Her eyes widened in disbelief, but her core tightened within arousal from the act.

“So fucking hot seeing you like this,” he whispered against her ear. “Just mine to use. You can’t lie to me, Y/N. I can see it in your eyes, can feel it from the way you’re squeezing around me. You love my cock inside this tight, little pussy. You don’t care anymore that I’m a demon, do ya?”

Y/N couldn’t remember the words she had spoken in agreement to leave the bar with him. All she could remember was his hands on her hips, pushing her up against the brick wall, rough lips fused to hers as his thumbs played at the strip of skin exposed between her top and her skirt. All she could recall was the way his fingers slipped under the hem, making her breath hitch as they danced over the flesh of her inner thigh and pulled her thong aside, moving between her folds.

He smirked into the kiss, pulling away and looking deep into her eyes. “So wet already, sweetheart. My black eyes got somethin’ to do with this?”

“No,” she whimpered, trying to remain defiant but she was flailing.

The amused grin he had given her in response then matched the way he was staring back at her through the mirror at that moment.

“N-no,” she moaned, a small smile playing on her lips. “I don’t care anymore…”

Her words had somehow emboldened the pace of his thrusts, the scream silenced in her throat as his calloused fingers wrapped over it tight, his other hand groping at her breasts as he slammed into her. Her own hands struggled to hold herself steady against the mirror, the frame shaking from the brutal force of his hips smacking against her. Her walls clenched around his girth, causing sounds only akin to a feral animal to come from him right against the shell of her ear. Along with the loud squelch between her legs and her own choked moans, she knew it wouldn’t be much longer before she fell over the edge into the deepest depths of hell with him.

No matter how heavenly it felt to have him inside her, she knew she was headed for the fiery pit for what she was doing. It was debauchery at its finest, and yet she couldn’t care less.

Y/N wasn’t sure when it happened. Maybe it was the short walk from the bar across the street to the motel, maybe it was when they stepped through the door, or when they stripped each other of their clothes as their kiss became as heated as their frenzied touches. Maybe it was when she fell to her knees in front of him and wondered what the fuck she was doing, allowing a demon, something she hunted on a regular basis, to invade her every thought and sensation. Even if it was a man she knew very well, it had been wrong.

But it had also never felt so right.

The familiar pull in her core had her eyes squeeze shut, but a tug from Dean’s hand in her hair had them opening again. He made her watch their sinful actions in the mirror once more, as he felt her walls like vice around him.

“Such a good slut just for me,” he groaned, nipping her earlobe. “You’re all mine now, right?”

The lewd moan that escaped her wasn’t enough of an answer for him, as his hand cracked against the globe of her ass, causing her to shriek.

“Tell me,” he growled.

“I-I’m yours,” she finally replied, her voice sounding like a stranger’s from how hoarse it was.

“Damn right,” he grunted.

Her eyes rolled back as her air was still cut off by his heavy grip on her throat, but suddenly it dropped to grip her hips tightly with both hands, as his own began to falter with each frantic thrust. Her lungs burned as short breaths left her, moans turning into loud cries of his name as she reached that euphoric peak, her body convulsing as a stream of liquid gushed down her thigh, pushing his cock out as her wetness spurted against the mirror and dripped onto the carpeted floor. Her chest heaved as she breathed harshly, her vision blurred and unable to focus.

Dean took hold of his shaft, slicked up by her release and pumped his hand back and forth, expletives and groans falling from his parted lips as his cock pulsed in his grip. With one last tug, the veins in his neck strained as he let out a strangled grunt, his eyes flashing to solid black as ropes of his release shot over the small of her back. He grinned as he looked at her with those demon eyes she had found herself aroused by, and she smiled back slightly.

This was definitely not how tonight was supposed to go.

“Fuck, that was hot,” he muttered, grabbing her by her shoulders to steady her.

“Yeah,” was all she managed to push past her heavy breaths as she came down from her high.

“Well, I’m good to go again, but,” he smirked as his eyes flashed back to green irises. “You need to get your strength back.”

Y/N was taken aback by the concern, but she knew better than to assume it was for any other reason than needing her recharged for another round. He moved away from her, but not before smacking her ass once more as he walked away. She stumbled to the edge of the bed, still able to see herself in the mirror, her hand admiring the scratches and bruises forming along her skin. With a strangely content sigh, she fell back against the bed, unbothered by his cum sticking between her and the sheets underneath. She glanced to the side as he sat down next to her, his hand roaming over her body, fingers flicking over her nipple, making her moan softly.

“Take five, sweetheart, ‘cause I ain’t done with you yet.”

She bit her lip as she looked away from him, staring up at the ceiling. She heard a small buzz from her phone in the pocket of skirt, but made no move to search for it on the floor. It was no doubt Sam, texting for an update on how things were going. This was definitely a unique way of laying a trap, certainly not one she was planning, but at least this way Dean would never suspect that she had him right where she wanted him this whole time.

She’d let Sam know where she was eventually. She just wanted to enjoy playing with her own fate a little more.

[kaleldobrev]

Shiny New Toy (1)

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Fem!Virgin!Reader

Summary: You're Demon Dean's shiny new toy

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Age Gap, Cursing (3x), Smut (Oral Sex, Fingering), Virgin Reader, Demon Dean (yes, he gets a warning), Bondage (kinda?), Forced Orgasm (kinda?)

Authors Note: I feel like I should apologize for this cause I wrote this when I was horny past midnight when I should have been sleeping but I'm not going to apologize | What I should be apologizing for is the fact that I wrote this knowing that it's gonna be multiple parts | This is the more tamer of the parts | 18+ only please | MDNI | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, trying to adjust to the unnatural red glow of the room you were currently in. Your hands were above your head, chained up and in thick cuffs. Your legs were spread apart equal to your shoulders; they too were chained up in similar cuffs. Looking down at your body, you almost didn’t realize what you were wearing at first, as you were too distracted by the cuffs on your wrist and ankles. You were wearing a thin layer of clothing; wearing something that you hadn’t bought yourself, nor would ever buy. You were wearing a matching set of lace see-through lingerie. And from the feeling of the cold metal against your ass, the panties that you were wearing was in fact a thong - something you hated more than anything.

Your stomach felt like it was in knots, and your throat was unbelievably dry, like you hadn’t had water in days. You didn’t know how long you had been in this room; the last thing you had remembered was being in the Bunker, you and Sam being chased with a hammer by Dean. In this moment, all you could think about was Sam, hoping and wishing that he was okay.

The sound of a metal door opened behind you, and from the sound of it, it sounded heavy. You shut your eyes for a brief moment, trying to gather your thoughts and trying to lower your racing heart; but it was all a failed attempt. In addition to the door you heard heavy boots walking across the floor behind you, followed by a small chuckle. The heavy boots and that chuckle were two things that you instantly recognized. “Dean.” You mumbled, letting out a breathy sigh.

A hand touched your arm, and your body jumped and tensed at the same time from the contact. Dean finally coming into view, giving you the flirtiest of smiles; one that you had been so accustomed to getting from him. “Hey Sunshine.” Your heart picked up the pace at hearing your nickname that he had reserved only for you. “Your heart is going a million miles. I could hear it down the hall.”

He ran his hand down your arm, across your breasts, all the way down to your stomach, just stopping right above the hem of your panties. “Where are we?” You asked.

“We’re in Hell Sweetheart.” He said so matter of factly. You were fucked. One of his fingers started playing with the hem of your panties; a part of you was starting to get turned on, but another part of you tried remaining strong; but that part was failing as your body was reacting in a much different way. You were almost embarrassed, ashamed that you were getting turned on; and Dean had barely touched you.

He removed his finger from the hem and walked over to a small cart that consisted of an assortment of tools. He picked up one tool, that seemed like a knife of some sort. Your body tensed up again, afraid of what he was going to do with it. Dean chuckled, noticing that your body had tensed. “You afraid of this?” He asked, holding the knife up, a small grin on his lips. You nodded. “Aw baby.” His voice seemed very amused.

Walking over to you, he gently started tracing the point of the knife on your skin. He didn’t apply enough pressure to leave any marks, but just enough to feel the sharpness from the blade. He started at your legs and started tracing upward, stopping at the hem again. For some reason, he was obsessed. “So beautiful.” He mumbled. He looked at you, still grinning. “I picked this little number out for you. Needed to know if you would look just as good as I pictured you would.” He paused for a moment before taking the blade of the knife and cutting off the thong; quickly throwing it off to the side. “More beautiful than I pictured.” You knew he was no longer talking about the lingerie, but your bare pussy in front of him. Although you weren’t naked, you might as well have been.

“Dean.” Was all you could get out. You had wanted to say more, but your body wasn’t cooperating.

“If I touch you, are you going to be wet for me?” He asked. You weren’t sure if he had actually wanted you to respond or not. But before you could, one of his fingers was already touching your clit. You sucked in a breath at the sudden contact. He looked at your pussy for a moment as he slowly slide his finger up and down moving some of the wetness around. He looked at you, seeming satisfied that you were already wet for him. “Sweetheart, I’ve barely touched you and you’re soaked.” His face changed then, his grin almost turning into an evil like smirk. “Wait. That’s right. You’re a virgin.” He chuckled. “Virgins get wet so easily. I almost forgot what that’s like.”

You had told Dean in confidence a few months ago that you were a virgin. Upon telling him, he had practically offered to take it. But you had told him that you didn’t want to lose your virginity with a one night stand, that you had wanted to lose it to someone that you loved and someone that loved you just the same. You remembered briefly now, that he almost seemed hurt by your words.

“Now tell me.” He began, putting the knife back into the cart. “When you say virgin, how virgin are we talking here?” He asked. “Ever been fingered? Eaten out?” You shook your head. “Never? Not even once?”

“No.” Your no sounded so weak. It wasn’t like you didn’t want those things, you just never really had the opportunity. Hunting had taken up a lot of your time, and you weren’t one for one night stands. So getting fingered, eaten out, or having sex was something that didn’t happen for you. Although you were a little ashamed, you also weren’t completely upset by it either, given the fact that you had only just turned 21 a few weeks prior - it was perfectly normal for a woman your age to still be a virgin in all senses of the word.

“You know, when you first told me that you were a virgin, I gotta say Sweetness, I was very surprised.” He said, stepping in between your legs. “But, it gave me thoughts about you that…” he licked his lips before he started kissing your inner thighs. “Made me realize how badly I’ve wanted you forever.” More kisses; and more wetness started to form. A small moan had escaped your lips. “Cause baby, when I first met you, I wanted you, and wanted you bad. But, had to stop myself. You know why?” He licked a long strip of your clit. “Even though you were 18, a part of me thought that it was so…wrong to ruin you that young."

You shouldn’t have been turned on by his words but you were. You remembered the day you had met Dean. You had just turned 18 a few weeks before and you just graduated from high school. You had noticed the way Dean had looked at you, giving you his classic flirty smile. But you noticed how quickly his demeanor changed once you said how old you were. His demeanor going from overly flirty, to dad or friend. You had figured in that moment that he had no intentions of ever wanting to pursue a relationship with you given your age. You were a little crushed to say the least.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been trying to control myself around you.” He took one of his fingers and started to slowly push inside your cunt. “So many times I pictured what it would be like to just bend you over the counter and fuck that little ass of yours raw.” His finger was going slow, and you were thankful for that; but amazed at the same time. “So many times I’ve pictured having my head between these legs of yours and eating you out until your legs turned into jello.” He added a second finger now, and you tensed up, clenching around his fingers.

“You’re so wet for me.” He mumbled. “And you’re taking my fingers real good too.” He said a bit louder. Two of his fingers were now fully inside of you, knuckle deep. “I may be a demon, but that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna be nice and not let you cum. Especially given the circumstances.” The way he said it, it sounded almost as if you should be thanking him. His movements started going slow, as he started pumping his fingers inside of you. It was a weird sensation, but a sensation that your body had craved for such a long time; especially from Dean. You had wanted so much to lose your virginity to him; but not to this version. He was a demon, a cruel, heartless knight of hell. Not your sweet, loving, nerdy best friend whom you were in love with.

“Dean please…” You weren’t sure what you had wanted to say in that moment. You didn’t necessarily want him to continue or to stop; your body and mind were confused. You had felt like you shouldn’t have been wet for him, to be turned on, he was a demon after all. But all you saw and felt was Dean, no demon in sight despite what you had actually knew.

“Yes Sweetheart?” He asked, his fingers were starting to pick up the pace, every so often his fingers would hook and curl inside of you, trying their best to get the perfect angle. You felt yourself starting to get wetter and wetter, and you knew how much Dean was enjoying this. He had pictured you so many times. “Need you to use your words doll.”

The pressure inside of you was building, your pussy clenching around his fingers. “My little virgin gonna cum?” He practically whispered. You couldn’t help but nod. “You know how I know? You’re clenching so tight around my fingers.” He smirked. His free hand tilted your chin, forcing you to make eye contact with him. Your hips instinctively started swiveling trying to help yourself cum. He looked at your hips for a moment before making eye contact with you again. “Look at those little hips go.” He grinned again. “Want to look at your face the first time you cum. Need to see your O face.”

His fingers were aggressive now, his movements were erratic. Although you were close to an orgasm, it almost felt like he was trying to force one out of you; something that you didn’t think was possible. A moment later you started coming; your face contorted, and your eyes briefly shut. Your hips bucked up, and Dean continued to finger you through your orgasm. “Fuck.” You breathed out, your chest rising and falling. He removed his fingers from your cunt, and you already missed them inside of you. He brought his fingers to his lips and licked them clean.

“More delicious than I pictured.” He said. “Can’t wait for you to cum around my cock.” He smirked. This was going to be a long night for sure.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

[impala-dreamer]

Wicked Desire

A Supernatural Story

~There's never any promise in a one-night-stand, never any certainty when you catch a stranger's eye. It's dangerous, but there was never any question when Dean asked you to join him for a drink...~

Demon!Dean x Reader

1173 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Facial Fucking and Blow Jobs and Oh my. 

A/N: This was a TMA ask that I just rolled with...

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

There’s too much tequila in your system and your body is tingling, limp and pliant. There’s absolutely no resistance when he shoves two thick fingers between your lips, no hesitation when he utters a command.

“Suck.”

Your tongue undulates against the pads of his fore and middle fingers and your mouth floods with saliva. You moan as he juts his fingers deeper inside. He wants to hear it, feel your throat contract around his digits, feel your lips block him from crawling fully inside.

“So fuckin’ sexy, sweetheart,” he coos, but there’s no love behind his words. There’s no praise either. It’s almost as if he’s telling himself and not you. You could be anyone, anything; just a bunch of well lubricated holes and he wouldn’t care.

Your eyes flutter closed when he pushes in deeper and your body protests as he skirts the very back of your throat. A lurching gag jerks you forward but he goes nowhere, enjoying the tears that leek out around your lashes.

“Knew I picked a good one.”

His laugh is cold and deep and somehow makes you melt a little more. You can feel yourself dripping, the heat pooling between your thighs, soaking into the thin black panties you’re wearing. Your knees are dug deep into the cheap roadhouse carpet and your thighs are burning from the pose, but he doesn’t seem to want to move, to change it up. He just wants to test your reflexes, your desire.

You look up and he’s grinning down at you, a devilish smirk that makes your heart race. He’s pure danger and absolute sex. There’s something so raw and hungry lurking beneath that beautiful freckled face and you want to know it, to feel it.

It also terrifies you.

There was too much confidence in the way he came at you in the bar, so sure he had you without even saying a word. Without warning, he’d sauntered up next to you, slapped a fifty down on the bar and flashed a smile that nearly knocked you off your feet.

The look of him, the heat pulsing off of his hand as it slid onto your thigh, the smell of him- musky and smoky with a hint of cinnamon- it was intoxicating. He had you hooked before he’d said a word.

“I’m Dean…”

You were lost in his eyes, addicted to the smooth tone of his voice. There was nothing he could ask for that you’d deny, nothing he could attempt that you’d pull away from.

When his fingers slide from your lips, you let out such a pathetic moan that it shocks you. You rock forward on your knees, mouth hung open and drooling, reaching for him again.

“Please…”

He looks down, shadowed chin dipping close to your face. He grabs your cheeks in one big hand, squeezing the hollows inward.

“How fuckin’ lucky am I? Picked up such a willing little slut and all it cost me was a few rounds.” His tongue juts out, thick and pink, and he licks at your puckered lips, teasing, tasting. “Awesome.”

He grins again and you swear his eyes change colors. The green vanishes and black appears, soaking through everything like an acid rain. Your body recoils, your breath catches hard, but he’s got you, his fingers tightening, blunt nails digging into your cheeks.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he says, laughter on the end of each word. “I’m not gonna hurt ya.” He licks his lips slowly and the green returns. “Not unless you ask, of course.”

His wink is insane and stunning and you nearly fall over when he releases his hold. He catches you with a strong hand at the base of your skull, pulling you back to center. He holds you there, fingers splayed across the back of your head as his free hand takes care of his zipper.

His jeans slink down, stopped by the top of his boots and he tugs his boxers from his hips. His cock is long but only half hard and he presents it with a slow thrust forward.

Your gaze settles in the cut of his thighs, those deep v lines that bring you right to his gorgeous cock. Hungry, you flash your eyes upward and pucker your already puffy lips.

“You don’t gotta wait for an invitation,” he jokes. “Have at it…”

He’s thick and deliciously warm. Salty tang floods your mouth as you take him in, lapping at his length with the tip of your tongue. You seal your lips tight around him and he moans, the sound is so beautiful, so deadly and erotic that all you can think about is doing it again.

Deeper and deeper you go until your nose is against him, until your breath is weak and your lips aching.

Dean keeps his fingers locked in your hair, guiding your rhythm, forcing you to keep going when your throat nearly closes. His moans are like a magic spell weaving through your head and blocking everything else out.

“Just like that… Fuck!”

You grab at his hips, holding yourself to him as he takes over, thrusting when he can’t hold back anymore. His cock throbs on your tongue and his pleasure seems to wash through you. Your nipples tighten, your clit pulses.

So wicked, you think, that he’s turned your mouth into a sloppy cunt just like that. It was so easy… all it took was a few shots and a brilliant smile.

Dean picks up his pace, jerking his hips almost painfully into your face. You hold your breath and suck hard, knowing he’s close but praying he lasts. Your pussy is throbbing so hard that it hurts, the wetness leaking down your thighs. You need him to pull away, grab you up and slam you into the wall, fuck you until there’s no more you. You need him to break you, to make you cum so hard you can’t remember your name, your own face, your sense of self.

Your lungs are burning when he cums and you suck in a shaky breath as he coats your tongue. Too surprised to think, a bit squeaks out of the corner of your mouth and you slurp it back in, swallowing him down with a moan.

Hand still locked on the back of your head, Dean thrusts in deep once more and holds you there, loving the feel of your throat constricting around him. He softens slowly and groans out a lazy sigh.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart…”

He backs away and you teeter on your knees, falling forward onto the ugly carpet.

“You got some skill, I’ll give you that.”

He buttons up before you can reach him, crawling like a bitch in heat on your hands and knees. You wait at his feet, still aching and horny.

“But--”

He looks down and sucks his teeth, huffs out a curt laugh. “I’ll getcha next time.”

He’s gone before you can scramble to your feet, leaving you with nothing but a wink and an empty promise.

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[winchesterszvonecek]

not sure if you take requests for demon!dean, but if you do could i request a smut drabble with the prompts

for one muse to take the other from behind + “are you gonna be good for me?” from the nsfw prompts that don’t sound like a bad porno

and is it bad if i kinda want it to be really dirty? like as dirty as you’re comfortable with please 🫣

Good For Me - [ Demon!Dean Winchester ] 18+

Prompt: For one muse to take the other from behind + “Are you gonna be good for me?”

Word Count: 1043

Warnings: female!reader, demon!dean, smut - [ mentions of foreplay, unprotected sex, dirty talk ]

Masterlist | Dean Masterlist

Ever since he became a demon, Dean’s foreplay skills had skyrocketed to levels you never even thought they could reach. By the time he was finished he had you soaking, dripping, your arousal all but pooling beneath you as you begged him to fuck you.

And each time he simply basked in it. Basked in the smugness of what he could do to you with nothing but a simple touch. How the mere sound of his voice could have you panting like a dog in heat as he got you prepared to take every single inch of him.

Fingers spreading you open, working their way inside you and moving so painfully slow you couldn’t help but grind your hips, earning a sharp slap to your ass in response as Dean did not like you to so much as move yourself when he was down there. But if anything the slap made you even more heated and he knew that.

It was all part of his game. Even the part where his tongue was fucking your hole so deep to the point where you’d almost come before he’d even started had you desperate for him. And once you reached that point, he was more than happy to give you what you wanted.

“Are you gonna be good for me, sweetheart?” Dean cooed into your ear, your back pressed up against his chest and one hand wrapped tightly around your throat, his other playing with your breast, flicking and squeezing at the hardened bud that sat atop it. “Are you gonna be good whilst I fuck that tight little pussy of yours?”

“Yes.” You gasped, barely able to talk from the hold he had on you and the raging heat between your legs. “Yes, I’ll be good for you, Dean.”

“That’s my good girl.” Dean grumbled, pulling the lobe of your ear between his teeth as his hand loosened from around your neck, fingers trailing over your skin and down your back before he dragged them painfully slowly across your soaking pussy, feeling the throb of your clit beneath them. “I hope you’re ready, darling.”

“I'm ready, Dean.” You whispered, surprised you hadn’t come from the single touch of his fingers mixed with his words. Your body was pushed forwards, your torso hitting the mattress to join your knees, the only part of you still up in the air being your ass and upper thighs which you knew meant Dean was going to give it his all. “Ready to feel that huge cock in my tight little pussy.”

“Yeah? You want me to give you all of it?” Dean teased, stroking the tip of his cock between your folds, making you fight the urge to fuck yourself back onto him. “You think you’re ready to take all of me?”

“I want you to give me all of it.” You gasped, feeling that first, almost painful had it not been for the mere wetness of you, stretch of your pussy as Dean pushed in no more than an inch. “Fuck… Please give me all of it.”

“Anything for you, baby.” Dean grunted as in one fluid motion he had bottomed out inside of you, balls deep and able to feel the heat of your arousal coat the skin of them.

The cry you let out was unlike anything he’d ever heard before, your legs spreading involuntarily as he filled you up completely. Stretching you wider than you’d ever felt, pushing you to your limits and making you bite down hard on the mattress, the pain almost overwhelming to the point where you nearly had him pull out again.

But when Dean’s hips started moving, at a pace that had your whole body thrusting forward and your breasts bouncing hard beneath you, you quickly found that you couldn’t find the words to tell him to stop. And nor did you want him to.

“Fuck… Yes baby, give it to me. Fucking give it to me. Yes.” You cried out, pushing your ass out as Dean pounded mercilessly into you, his fingers digging deep into the flesh of your hips as he kept you in a position that allowed for maximum pleasure.

The room filled with the sound of skin on skin and the almost disgusting, had it not been heavenly in the moment to hear, slickness of his thick cock sliding in and out of you, each thrust hitting that spot perfectly and sending a shockwave of pleasure coursing throughout your body.

You’d already begun to see stars, your eyes threatening to roll back into your head as drool spilled from your mouth, dripping all down your chin and to the mattress beneath you. You always knew Dean was like an animal but pair that with the Mark of Cain and the blackened eyes he sported and fuck, you’d be surprised if you could walk afterwards. Or if you could ever fuck anyone else as he’d completely ruined you.

“You like that, baby? Like having my big cock so deep inside you?” Dean growled, his eyes flashing black as your velvet walls closed in around him, clenching his cock so tightly that he almost came the second he slid back into you.

“Mhm.” You hummed, too out of it for anything even remotely coherent. You could feel him pulsating inside of you, about to burst and with one last thrust of his hips you clamped down around him, pure ecstasy flowing fast throughout your veins as you came harder than ever before.

You couldn’t begin to describe this moment, your head was fuzzy, your eyes were clouded over in white as you felt your very spirit leave your body. And for a second you thought you’d ascended into heaven, that was until your name slipping from Dean’s lips as he came inside you pulled you back to reality and reminded you that you were the furthest away from heaven you could ever be.

You knew fucking a demon would be a one way ticket downstairs, but right now as you lay with Dean’s release dripping out of you and coating your thighs, you couldn’t help but think that it was worth the eternal suffering. And you couldn’t wait to feel him damn you to Hell all over again.

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[love-yourself-first-tfw]

Hard to Love - Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Prompt: Curing Dean isn’t easy but in the end, it’s worth it. 

Word Count: 3596 

Warnings: Violence, Swearing, Crying, soft!Dean.

Author’s Note: Last part, I feel like this ending way better than it started but let me know what you think!

Part One

Sitting outside the door to the dungeon, hearing Dean taunt his brother, listening to all the things Sam did to try and get Dean back. 

Using a drunk, weak man to summon a crossroad demon and then torture said demon for information. A scream comes from Dean before a clattering that makes you flinch into the walls, digging your nails into your thighs. 

“Let me ask you this, Sammy: If this doesn’t work, we both know what you got to do to me, right?” Dean roars at him, “you got the stomach for that, Sam?!” 

The door slams behind Sam as he walks into the hall, looking at you on the ground. He slides down next to you and gives you a sad smile, whispering into your hair when your head lands on his shoulder, “I hope I’m not doing this for nothing.”

“Me too.”

                                                                        Dean’s pain is evident in his yelling now, his voice weak after the shot. You’d gone into the room with Sam, standing against the wall near the door, keeping your eyes on the furious man in the middle. The last shot leaves his head hanging, his chin touching his chest as he tries to breathe. 

“Sam?” His panic-stricken face scares you. His hand lifts his phone to his ear, holding a finger up to you as he walks into the hallway. 

Dean looks worse than Crowley did, a whole lot worse. While his chest was moving when Sam left the room, it stopped in the last few seconds. Without thinking about the fear from before, you move toward Dean. 

“Dean?” His skin is cold to your touch, bringing your hands to his cheeks, and tapping lightly. “Hey, come on. Come back.” 

“No.” It’s only a whisper but it feels like a shout, his breath hitting your bare shoulder. It’s been almost a year since you’d been this close to Dean or been able to touch him. 

“I’m sorry this hurts so much but you don’t want this. You’ve never wanted this.” Your hands fall from his face when he looks up at you, Sam walking into the room again. 

“Dean, you okay?” Sam pulls you back by your shoulder, protecting you behind him.

“Yeah, if you … consider drowning in your own sweat while your blood boils ‘okay.’” A cough-- more of a choke-- is followed by Sam’s sigh. 

“Look, I can’t just stop.” 

“Sure, you can. You just stop! There’s no point in trying to bring your brother back now.” 

I guess this is as close as we get to Dean pleading to be let go.

“I will get my brother back.” 

“In fact, your uh… guilt-ridden, weight-of-the-world bro has been M.I.A. for quite some time now. But I’m loving the new model: Lean, mean, Dean. Do you notice I tried to get as far away from you as possible? Away from your whining and your complaining. I chose the King of Hell over you! Maybe I was just … tired of babysitting you. Or always having to yank your lame ass out of the fire since … ”

Dean laughs at Sam, the strongest he’s seemed in hours. “Forever. Or maybe … Maybe it was the fact that my mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for you. That your very existence sucked the life out of my life! (Y/N) got the hint. Why couldn’t you.”

You both know this isn’t Dean this is the Demon trying to do anything to get his way, but it still hurts to hear. You watch as Sam stays silent and refills another syringe with purified blood. 

“Oh. Ooh. Is this you manning up?”

“This is me yanking your lame ass out of the fire.” Sam jabs the needle into Dean’s arm. “You’re welcome.”

He gasps out in a pain that hurts you, making you want to go to him again, but Sam grabs your elbow, leading you out to the hallway. 

“C’mon. We don’t need to be in here anymore. I’ll just come back to give him the dose. We can go have something to eat.” 

You look back at the dungeon door before nodding to Sam, following him to the kitchen, and standing against the island. 

“What were you doing in Colorado?” 

“Working, trying to fake being a normal human, I haven’t hunted since I left.” You shrug and take the water bottle that Sam passes to you. “Just trying to stay under the radar, I guess.” 

An old habit in times of stress comes up as you slowly peel the label off the bottle, tearing it into small ribbons. “When did Dean turn? When did Metatron kill him?” 

“About a month after you left.” Sam crosses his arms, looking over you as you stare at the floor, tapping your toe every once in a while. 

“He was fine that last hunt when you stayed home-- or planned your escape, but that’s beside that point. He was fine and then I found your note when we got back. I thought he’d be fine; with the way he was treating you, why would he? But he freaked out. He left and didn’t come back for like, three days. I want you to know that I’m not judging you for deciding to do that. For leaving.” 

“He left?” 

“Yeah, came back covered in blood and wouldn’t tell me what happened, just shoved me aside and then cleaned up and acted like nothing happened.” He rubs his forehead, sipping on the water. “He just let bloodlust go, he didn’t stop when he should have. Then Metatron, I thought he was dead, then he was gone.” 

“Did you do those things he said you did? To find him?”

Sam’s head hangs in shame, nodding to your question, “Yeah. I couldn’t... He would’ve done it for me. I couldn’t just leave him.”

“I know, Sam. You’re right.” You tap your foot in quick succession, looking at the door. “C’mon, I want to show you something. I don’t know if it’s still there, but I want to try.” 

He follows you to Dean’s door, watching you as you push the door open. “He kept pictures in here when we were together at least.” 

The room is just how you expect it, guns hanging on the wall and a slice of half-eaten pie that sits atop a pile of papers. Your heart thrums painfully as you see the handwritten notes; Dean trying to work something out. 

You flip over a page in a notepad to see pictures of Dean and Mary, Mary and John, Sam, Dean, and Bobby, and two pictures of Sam and Dean. Sam has tears in his eyes as he looks at the pictures of himself and his brother. A smile at the memories forms before he looks at you, trying to seem as though you weren’t hurting in this situation too. 

“He looked at them a lot. He loves you, Sam. There is no doubt in my mind that he would do anything for you. I’m sure he wants to keep you as safe as you want him.” 

You ignore the feelings coming up when you don’t see the pictures that marked moments in your relationship with Dean. The ones that held bright smiles and love that slowly faded. Sam looks around the room, seeing the perfectly made bed. A piece of blue fabric, sticking out from under Dean’s pillow, catches his attention. Sam drops the photos back to the table, pulling the corner of the pillow up, and revealing the much-too-small-for-Dean t-shirt. 

“Oh.” Shock is evident in your voice when you whisper, “I forgot about that.”

“It’s yours?” Sam picks up the shirt, looking at the design, an arrow below the words ‘I’m with stupid’, and quirks his eyebrow up at you.

“Yeah, Dean bought it for me when we had our first date. Wouldn’t shut up until I put it on.” Sam has teary eyes when you look back at him, giving you a sad smile to go along with them. 

                                                                      Staying in Dean’s room when Sam tells you he’s going to give Dean his next dose of blood. Fingers grazing the bedsheets before you sit down, breathing in the smell you left behind; a dizzying oak and whiskey consuming your nose. 

Startled by Sam entering the room suddenly, wide eyes and panic written all over his face. “C’mon follow me and don’t make any noise.” 

You whisper in response to Sam’s low voice, “what happened?”

“Dean got out. He isn’t in the dungeon anymore.” Sam grabs a knife from the nightstand, peaking out the door to make sure the coast is clear. 

He slides against the wall, looking back at you to see you following his movement, a knife in your hand as well. He enters the kitchen just as Dean’s yell echoes through the bunker. 

“Come on, Sammy! Don’t you want to hang out with your big brother? Spend a little quality time? Or why don’t you leave little (Y/N) for me, promise I’ll leave you alone.”

Loud slamming comes after his jeering, doors hitting walls in Dean’s demonic search to kill Sam and most likely you if you can’t stop him. He motions to the keys on the counter, keeping his eye on the doorways, and clueing you in on his plan. 

The both of you rush to get to the control room and shut the power down to the whole place, red lights begin flashing, and an alarm goes with them. 

“Smart, guys! Locking the place down. Doors won’t open. I get it. But here’s the thing: I don’t want to leave! Not ‘til I find you.” 

You trip trying to get into position, a chair tumbling to the ground behind you, clattering to the ground. 

“Oh, by the way, you can, uh… blame yourselves for me getting loose. All that blood you pumped into me to make me human… Well. The less demon I was, the less the cuffs worked. And that Devil’s Trap? Well, I just walked right across it. It stung, but still.” 

Dean’s voice gets closer to you as he walks toward the control room. He flips the power back on when he is inside, the power surging back to life, and signaling your mad dash to pull the door closed. 

Your shaking hands lock it before throwing the keys to the side, sending a weary look at Sam. 

“That’s your big move?” Dean’s laugh is hollow, making a shiver run up your spine.

“Listen to me, Dean! We were getting close, okay? I know you’re still in there somewhere. Just let me finish the treatments.” Dean stays quiet, worrying both of you. “Dean?” 

You stumble back with Sam as a large splinter flies from the door. Dean continues to hit the door with the weapon he wields, making a crack in the wood that he can look through. 

“You act like I want to be cured. Personally, I like the disease.”  

With another swing of the hammer, more wood flies from the door. 

“Dean, stop! I don’t want to use this blade on you.” He is holding the demon knife, ready to defend himself when Dean comes at him. 

You watch as Dean mocks his words, an exaggerated frown on his lips. “That sucks for you, doesn’t it? ‘Cause you really mean that!” 

Shaky and unsure of your words, you speak your thoughts, “We won’t have a choice if you come after us.”

“Sure you will! And I know which one you’ll make. Isn’t that right? But see… Here’s the thing: I’m lucky. Oh, hell, I’m blessed! ‘Cause, there’s just enough demon left in me that killing you? Ain’t no choice at all.” 

Sam grabs your hand, pulling you away from the madman just as he gets all the way through the door. Your bare feet slap the ground as you run behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides. Breathing hard when you finally stand against one of the walls, trying to listen and watch for Dean. 

A scream gets stuck in your throat-- the noise more of a whimper than anything-- when Dean swings and misses Sam’s head with the hammer, lodging it in the wall. You watch Sam push the demon blade to Dean’s neck, the hammer stuck in the wall next to your head. 

You tear your eyes away at the heart-wrenching scene in front of you.

“Well… Look at you. Do it. It’s all you.” The knife hits the ground, Sam’s hand dropping, unable to do the thing he’s been trying to avoid: killing Dean. When he lunges, Sam steps back, his body hitting yours, the wall of muscle sending you to the ground like a rock. 

A few seconds of silence before Dean’s surprised grunt makes you turn your head, with the new player on your team appearing behind Dean. Sam helps you up, an apology coming out before you are on your feet. 

“It’s okay, Sam, I’m fine.” Your ankle twisted in a way you were sure was wrong and a black eye is inevitable with how his elbow was shoved into your face, but right now it’s about Dean and saving him. 

“It’s over.” Cas’ deep voice barrels over you, his grace glowing blue in his eyes. “It’s over, Dean.”

                                                                      Defeated and angrier than before, Dean yells and tries to thrash away from Cas, trying to get away from the chair in the dungeon as the two men strap him down once again. 

After a few hours of Dean screaming again, this time in pain as he gets stuck with a needle in his arm, he is slumped forward and breathing heavily, passed out from the last round. 

Sam stresses, looking at his worn-down brother. “What the hell are we doing to him, Cas? I mean, even after I gave him all that blood, he still said he didn’t want to be cured, that he didn’t want to be human.” 

“Well… I see his point. You know, only humans can feel real joy, but … also such profound pain. This is easier.” You nod along with the angel, understanding what he means and agreeing with his logical thinking. 

You look at Dean when his head rises, black eyes taking over before fading to the forest green you love so much. 

Sam unscrews the flask of holy water, waiting for another demonic outburst. “You look worried, guys.” 

Sam splashes Dean, hearing no sizzle or screams from Dean, he smiles. The first happy one you’ve seen since you’ve been back. “Welcome back, Dean.” 

The green orbs connect with yours, a twinge of regret on his face when he sees how run-down you look. When Sam unties Dean, he rubs his wrists and takes a step toward you, stopping when you step back. A searing pain shoots up your leg from your ankle when you step your full weight onto it, steading yourself with the wall. 

He looks hurt at your reaction but steps away as Sam helps you. “What happened? Jesus, when did you get a black eye?” 

You shrug Sam’s hands off you, ignoring his questions to look at Dean, trying to convey that you aren’t scared of him. “It wasn’t you, Dean. Sam fell into me.” 

He has his head lowered to his chest, defeat clear in his body language. Despite what anguish he had caused you, you wanted him to know that it was not his fault. 

                                                                      Sam helps Dean to his room while you and Cas sit in the library and look through the Book of Demonic Possession. You wait for Sam, tapping your fingers on the table, impatiently, until he appears. 

“Hey.” He reaches the stairs, no ounce of worry on his face. 

“How’s he doing?” You blurt out instead of any other questions. 

“He’s uh … He’s still a little out of it, but better, I think. I mean, I think this whole thing—the blood cure, and the … all of it—really wrecked him, you know? On the plus side, he’s hungry again, so I’m just going to go pick him up a big ol’ bag of crap food and stuff it in his face myself.”

Cas agrees, “Yeah. Sam? You realize one problem is solved, but one still remains. Dean is no longer a demon, that’s true. But the Mark of Cain… that, he still has. And sooner or later, that’s going to be an issue.”

You tried to ignore the deep red scar in the dungeon, hoping it would fade away as he was cured but no such luck to be had. 

“You know what, Cas? I’m beat, man. One battle at a time, you know? So I’m just gonna go grab my brother some cholesterol. And then, I’m gonna get drunk.”

“Ditto, can you pick me up something? A greasy burger sounds good right now.” Being drunk and full would be so nice after the day you’ve had.  

“Duh, I wouldn’t forget about you.” 

                                                                    You stand in front of Dean’s door, contemplating the idea of knocking and talking to the cured man. Sam hadn’t left that long ago, leaving you with Cas before he goaded you into taking the short walk to Dean’s room. 

With a deep breath, you let your knuckles hit the door, hearing his voice through the door. “Yeah?” 

You step inside, close the door and lean against it with your hands behind your butt, trying to keep your weight on your good leg. 

“Hi.” The bags under his eyes are worse than they were an hour ago, skin pale and flush while sitting on his bed, trying to look relaxed but you know him too well. “You look terrible.” 

Dean chuckles, a glint in his eyes, different-- better than before. “You know, it wouldn’t kill ya to lie.”  

You hum, looking at the once cream-colored carpet, now streaked with dirt from almost a century of use. Your fingers tap against the door, trying to get the right words out. “No, it wouldn’t but I’ve never lied to you before, why start now?” 

Dean stands, stepping in front of you. “Well, you, on the other hand, you… Look good.” 

“Thanks, Dean.” 

You raise your head. Dean’s face hardens at your face, hand going to your cheek. Turning your head into his hand, relishing the comfort that you’d longed for, tears stinging your closed eyes. He whispers apologies, bringing you closer and into his arms. 

“Did you ask Cas to heal you?” 

You shrug, shaking your head on his chest, “No. It’s stolen grace. I don’t want him to drain himself.” 

“Okay, sit down then. I want to see your ankle.” He is gentle with his words as he guides you to the chair, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

You wince when you sit down, biting down on your lip when he starts to roll your sweats up. Purple and blue blotches cover your foot, twitching away from Dean’s fingertips as they graze the swollen limb. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. That’s a doozy.” You want to cry at the pet name but you focus on the pain. He rolls up the fabric so it stays in place, seeing more marks spreading up your leg. “You look like you were hit by a linebacker.” 

“I mean, compared to me, he is a linebacker so, checks out.” 

You get a hearty laugh from Dean, standing from his squatting position. “You got me there. I’m gonna get you an ice pack.” 

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to take care of me.” 

“(Y/N). Stop, I want to. You shouldn’t be in this position at all.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for what I did and said... Or didn’t say. I just want you to know that.” 

“Okay.” Slumping back into the chair and watching him leave, you think about how fast your life changed, for the better. But you love these boys. A family that chose you. And you left. In a time of need, hurt, and worry, you just tucked tail and ran, a coward. 

You cough through the first sob but when Dean reenters the room you are hyperventilating into your cries. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong? You’re gonna be fine, sweetheart.” 

You shake your head, trying to breathe, talk, and cry all at once. “No, I left.” 

 “Calm down, I don’t understand.” He sets the items down on the floor, squatting in front of you. “I know you left, I know why you left. I’m not angry with you.” 

“I-I-” You have to stop and collect yourself to continue. “I shouldn’t have.” 

“You know that’s what I wanted, right? I was too weak to tell you that you deserve more in every way possible so I didn’t tell you anything. And it worked, too well. I’m sorry I did that. Don’t be sorry for leaving, I made you do that.” 

“I missed you.” You wipe your nose with your sleeve, trying to stop the tears. “Not just when I left; I’ve never felt so alone with someone next to me. I missed you so much.” 

“I know, I’m sorry, baby.” He cups the back of your head, letting you stuff your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry. I love you and I’m so sorry.” 

Thinking you’d never hear those words from him again, you respond quickly. “I love you. I don’t want to leave again.” 

“You don’t have to.”

“Just don’t shut me out, please.” 

“I promise. I’m here for as long as you’ll have me, I’m not making that mistake again.” 

[waynes-multiverse]

Mercilessly

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a heroic, green-eyed hunter, but now, not much of him and his emerald eyes are left after he made a grave mistake and broke the wrong girl’s heart, leaving her empty behind. Y/N, however, is dressed for revenge and ready to take back what once belonged to her...

Warnings: +18!, language, smut (fingering, p in v, dirty talk & slight degrading), canon-level violence, a lot of evil scheming & some dark fluff

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: First time I’m daring to write Demon!Dean. This has been on my writer’s wish list for goddamn ages. Written for my wonderful bestie’s @avanatural‘s 1,000 followers celebration & antagonist challenge. 😈 You and your stories completely amaze me, so here’s to 1,000 more! Collect ‘em like Pokemon, babe! The crown truly belongs to you! 🥳🥂🖤 My prompts were Billie Eilish’s You Should See Me In A Crown 👑 and a quote, which you’ll find in bold. I also based parts of it on The Bravery’s Hatefuck 🔥 because it certainly is a fitting song for Demon!Dean. Enjoy, my loves!

Feedback is highly appreciated! Get me drunk on it and fill my writer’s juice 🤓🥃

Main Masterlist | Dean Winchster Masterlist

High noon. The bar was virtually deserted, tranquil, and almost peaceful, cradling every new arrival in a false sense of security if they weren’t smart enough and came equipped with a sixth sense for peril. After all, some dangers lurked in bright daylight and weren’t as easily identified by the naked eye.

Luckily, Y/N was smarter than most and knew exactly what kind of threat was waiting for her there as her black heels on fiery red soles stormed through the doors of the rundown tavern. The remaining guests of the establishment consisted of drunkard patrons lingering around dirty tables and halfway falling asleep in front of their glasses. Her determined and vibrant eyes, however, immediately landed on a tuft of sandy-blond and disheveled locks.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing. A beautiful, flesh-eating flower. A blazing hot mess. Dean fucking Winchester.

Y/N was a big girl, though. She knew better than to get lost in something shiny, the glitter and glamour, the cheap thrill. Fuck diamonds. They were just a marketing scheme, and she already fell for good packaging once in her life and got severely burned like a child touching the hot plate of a stove. And while the cold emptiness in her chest prevented her from feeling anything, not even a tingle, her heart still pounded a few beats faster once her eyes caught sight of the main prize.

Her mind flooded with memories, vivid images of a life she once possessed. The endless movie nights, the laughs and talks, the tears and touches, the love that was lost. Lost because of him and his selfishness. And while none of it mattered anymore, she swore a long time ago, she wouldn’t let him get away with it. No, he still had to pay for what he did, suffer the same fate she had. She was deadly set on making her vision a reality. 

So, you could say Y/N came prepared, came with a plan. After all, the perfect revenge wasn’t something you could whip up in an hour and implement haphazardly. It took years – years of executing moves, forming questionable relationships, and conducting the most boring research in dusty libraries and tombs. Y/N was absolutely playing the long game, a strategy that’d certainly make every grand master of chess blush.

Of course, the asshole of all assholes didn’t even reward her with a meek glance over his broad shoulder, the bang of a door apparently not thrilling enough for him to spin around. The clicking of high heels on sticky floorboards as she stalked closer to the bar counter, however, seemed to do the trick, her target intrigued enough to finally face her.

The promise of a willing woman, of his next potential prey, naturally forced a predatory smirk onto his plush and sinful lips. A smile, which dropped quite abruptly once her former lover realized who truly stood before his acid green eyes. Oh, she was definitely not the corruptible angel he’d hoped for in his wettest dreams. And while he might be anything but human these days, the shock was big enough to let the black-eyed mask slip, and for a moment, she was reminded of the person he used to be. The good, kind, and selfless hero, full of shame, guilt, and regrets.

God, she hated that fucking guy.

“Remember me, Winchester?” A smirk played across her lips when his instinctive first answer was a light swallow, still subtle enough to pretend he didn’t care. The longer he stared at her, the more it became a scathing glare until the shock had subsided enough, and his defined jaw began to clench under the rough layer of scruff.

“Y/N.” Her name rolled off his wicked lips and nearly caused her to sink to her knees in front of him. It had been too long since he’d last said it, and she almost forgot the sound of it, the deep, shuddering timbre of his voice. The strength it took for him to utter her name in the first place was hidden behind a stoic exterior, however. He’d never thought he’d say it again, either, and it showed. “What the hell are you fucking doing here?”

Her head tilted like a lost puppy’s, brow puckering as her gaze innocently drifted to Crowley next to him, who’d been suspiciously quiet this whole time. “Aw, you didn’t tell him?”

Y/N wasn’t in the least bit surprised that A, the demon tried to cross her, and B, tried to make a run for it with his new bestie. It was what demons, especially Crowley, did best, after all. They couldn’t be trusted. And although she warned the scumbag several times, she naturally expected her peasant’s next move. No one beat the queen of chess.

“Tell me what?” Dean gritted through his pearly white teeth, his glare quickly swerving to his new partner in crime, who swallowed the enormous and craven lump in his throat.

“Crowley, Crowley, Crowley…,” Y/N tsked and casually crossed her arms. “You know, I’ve waited.” She took a step closer to the demon king, the flames in her eyes speaking volumes. “I bid my time. I paid my dues. Don’t you think I deserve credit?”

“Of course, of course,” Crowley scrambled for words, the coward in him ducking so much that even a woman of her small stature practically towered over him. “I couldn’t have done it without your extraordinary genius, my dear.”

“What the fuck is she talking about?” Dean’s patience had dried up like a raisin as he demanded an answer, swiftly pulling out the First Blade. He forcefully slammed it into the wooden countertop of the bar, piercing straight through Crowley’s palm and pinning the demon in place before the slippery bastard could pull a Houdini act on him again.  

“Ow! Bloody–!” Crowley hissed in pain and anger at the former hunter, who, in return, smirked quite complacently at the achievement.

“Tell him,” Y/N prompted with an unsympathetic look toward the demon in agony. “Tell him who found Cain in the first place and came up with the idea. Tell him who told you what the mark would do to him. Tell him you truly did nothing because you’re worth nothing. Tell him who made him into what he is. Tell him who cursed him.”

“You did,” Crowley croaked out while his hand soaked the countertop and painted it crimson red. “And may I add, your Majesty looks incredibly pretty today.”

With a scoff, Y/N rolled her eyes at the demon’s obvious attempt of flattery before she snapped her fingers and painfully forced his meat suit to his knees, his palm still nailed to the bar top as he let out a loud scream. She smirked when she noted Dean’s look of surprise at her little trick show. She certainly had leveled up since the last time he’d seen her. It scratched the little tingle in her belly.

“Yeah? If you think I’m pretty, you should see me in a crown. Don’t make me come for your job, too. Let’s face it, Crowley – you’d make a better servant than a king. Cross me again, and I’ll end you, demon scum,” she threatened, her jaw tightening and nostrils flaring. “Did you pathetic weasel really think I wouldn’t find you, slurping chick drinks in some dive bar no less? Do I really need to wear a warning sign next time I make a deal with you? You were supposed to deliver him on a silver platter for me. Did you really think I wouldn’t hunt you down?”

When the reigning king submissively ducked his head and swallowed like a beaten dog, her lips curled into a satisfied smirk. Cheerily, she leaned over the hunter’s lap and the mahogany counter, her hands going through several liquor bottles till she found one to her liking. She purposely stuck her butt out, wiggling and swaying it in front of the former hunter, still remembering a few preferences from the good ol’ days. It didn’t take long before she felt Dean’s long, thick fingers crawl down her spine and smooth over the leather-clad globes of her ass.

“Wanna take this somewhere more quiet, princess?”

Y/N gleefully hugged the chosen bottle of bourbon and pressed the cool, amber glass to her tits, nodding quite eagerly before placing a contrastingly soft kiss on his cheek. “One step ahead of you, my love. It’s time to celebrate!”

As Dean closed the door behind them, he watched as Y/N stalked through the motel room he’d called his home for the past months, curious Y/E/C eyes observing the remnants of his meaningless existence. It had been two years since he’d last seen her, since he kicked her out of the bunker and broke his own useless heart with it. She still looked the same. Stunning and breathtaking like the day he’d met her and bitter, cold, and angry like the day he’d lost her.

“You might’ve acquired those pretty new eyes, but your preferences are still the same, Winchester,” she teased, spinning to him with a grin that reached her ears. “Still picking the shady dive bars and gross motels over the five-star hotels. What’s wrong with a little luxury and a comfortable mattress, huh?”

Dean only rolled his juniper eyes, not in the mood for chit-chat or amusing banter, and prompted, “Why did you do this? Apparently, I owe those pretty new eyes to you.”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t play dumb,” Y/N huffed, annoyed with his act of innocence. “You know why I’m here. Contrary to popular belief, you’ve never been stupid, Dean.” A smirk spread across her face and lit up her dimples as she swayed closer. Her index finger hooked into the waistband of his jeans, pulling him flush against her small body, pointed teeth denting her bottom lip. “You’ve never been-,” her hungry gaze wandered down, palming the growing erection behind the denim, “-disappointing, either. At least not in that regard. You know, I fell for these eyes once before, and they’re even prettier now...”

Her teeth sunk into his pulse point as she left her first mark there, the tip of her tongue licking the salt from his skin. His hands didn’t deny themselves the pleasure of roaming her frame, her perfect curves, and her taut skin either, before one hand found rest on her exquisitely rounded ass, her cheek a perfect fit for his large palm as he cupped and groped it, pushing her against his bulging crotch that achingly pressed against the tight fabric of his jeans and begged for release and a warm, wet hole to fill.

While he hadn’t come to a clear decision about her yet, he knew he could postpone any thinking for later. After all, he did whatever the fuck he wanted, no consequences, and right now, he wanted to shove his cock inside her tight cunt and fuck her like there was no tomorrow. Albeit feelings and past attachments didn’t really play a role for him, he still remembered enough of their time together to know she’d always been a good fuck and certainly the best time. The things she’d do for him, say for him, and let him do, had always been wicked, way before his heart was corrupted, and Dean was all about celebrating the good times these days.

Craving the feeling of a blissful high, his mind flooded with images of the bruises and bites he’d left behind on her skin in the past and filled with thoughts of how much he’d missed her taste and smell. He certainly wouldn’t turn down her irresistible offer. So, throwing his resolve out the window, his mouth roughly claimed hers, tongue slipping inside, teeth biting flesh until it drew sweet, scarlet nectar.

His wet lips trailed along her jawline and down to her delicate neck as she became soft and bendable in his hold. “How did you do that to Crowley?” His question reverberated against her throat before he drew and lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “Last time I checked, you were soulless, not magic, princess.”

He at least had to ensure she couldn’t butcher him before he had a chance to do the same. It didn’t help, though, that their little stand-off was part of the turn-on. Who’d snap first? After all, they’d both been hunters once and knew the game all too well.

Amused, his former lover chuckled with a devilish twinkle in her gorgeous eyes that lit up her entire face. “God, don’t you just love it when they scream? It’s the best sound after cutting someone’s tongue out.”

Dean’s hands then wrapped around her throat, pushing her back into the next wall as he pinned her there and fixed her with a deathly glare, feeling her swallow harshly in his grip. He squeezed a little harder, his jaw tightening with his hold on her. A smirk played across his lips, practically smelling her arousal trickle into her panties.

Dean then pulled the blade from his back and thrust it into the papered wall dangerously close to her head, even drawing a little blood from the tip of her ear. He knew she was smart enough to understand it as a warning. Collecting a scarlet drop on his thumb, he licked his pad and relished in the metallic taste on his tongue.

“You better start answering some questions before I do what I shoulda done a long time ago, sweetheart,” he growled, his nose running along hers as she inhaled his scent like life-supplying oxygen.

But Y/N only smiled mysteriously, puckishly shrugging her shoulders. “Things change. Learned a thing or two after you exiled me. Made some friends in high places.”

“So, what? You did all this for revenge? Little pathetic, don’t you think? All over a good lay…,” he taunted her and scoffed.

Her greedy hands clasped his cheeks, sharp nails piercing his skin as she dragged him back to her addicting lips. “No, baby, I did all this for you, for me, for us. Don’t you see? After everything that happened, after what you’ve done to me… you can finally make it right. I know that’s what you wanted the most, even now with that little curse on your arm. And now, we’re the same without all those icky feelings getting in our way. We can just fuck and make the world ours. One by one.”

“There’s no more us, sweetheart,” Dean bit, flashing her a set of onyx orbs.

“Cute. There’s always an us,” she replied like his answer didn’t even matter to her, leaving no room for further discussions. “Do you still feel guilty about it, hm? You were so, so selfish. At least now, you’re honest about it and not hiding behind feigned heroics anymore.”

“Old me felt guilty, yeah,” he admitted and let out a dark chuckle. “But that’s kinda one of the perks of the new me. Now, I just think those people we used to be were pathetic and weak... I was weak. I sent you away when I shoulda just fucking killed you.”

“Or maybe you should’ve just let me die the way I was supposed to in the first place,” Y/N gritted bitterly. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been so fucking self-serving and let me go. But you couldn’t do that, could you? You had to save me because that was what the great hero Dean Winchester did, right? But the other thing you did so well was fucking things up, and boy, did you fuck this up, didn’t you?” she mocked and smirked when his look darkened and his upper lip twitched in shameful admittance, teeth grinding down. “Do you like my plan so far? You know, not having a soul is almost like already being dead. No dreams, no future... There’s nothing alive inside of me. Might as well sleep in a damn coffin. And because you showed me no mercy, I made sure I showed you none either, my sweet baby boy.”

It was true. It was all his fault she had lost goddamn everything. Her love, her family, her home. As weak as he was, Dean couldn’t let her go when she got hurt during a run-of-the-mill hunt. He brought her back to life, a spell that chipped away her soul till there was nothing left of it. And still, as foolishly smitten and in love as he was, he thought he could goddamn fix it, fix her, fix them. But there was nothing left for him to love and nothing that was capable of loving him back. Yet, he still didn’t have the guts to kill her in the bitter end.

“Want me to correct my past mistake, huh? Is that why you’re fucking here? ‘Cause I’d be happy to do just that,” he growled warningly into her ear as he leaned closer, hearing how her heart rate accelerated as his hot breath fanned against her delicate neck.

“You might be a demon, but I know you still don’t have the fucking heart to kill me,” she giggled in amusement and placed her palm on his chest where the miserable muscle pounded underneath. “Who’s pathetic now, huh?”

“Don’t fucking test me, Y/N. It won’t end well for you, honey,” he threatened, far from admitting that she’d seen right through him and called his bluff. “But then, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always been a slut for me.”

While Y/N’s little plan, apparently forged in hellfire itself, certainly made them more alike, the difference between them was that he still had a soul. His was just blackened, clouded by darkness, and disfigured over time by an abundance of pain and anger and, well, one little curse. Hers, on the other hand, wasn’t there at all. She was just an empty vessel, no feelings and emotions inside.

Old him couldn’t trust her; new him didn’t care, though. The new and improved version of him even recognized her worth. Y/N had always been cunningly smart, certainly smarter than him and even smarter than Sam. Dean could recall memories of vivid discussions with Bobby, the two of them rattling off weird trivia facts almost to a competitive degree.

Dean needed her. He could use her to his advantage. She was valuable.

Plus, Crowley had started to become annoying fairly quickly. The only reason the former hunter hadn’t stabbed the demon’s meat suit yet was that Dean really didn’t want to take over the duties of kingship. He could care less about Hell. All he wanted was to fuck around, drink excessively, and do a little karaoke.

Y/N, on the other hand, would make a good queen. Smart, driven, just. She’d make fair decisions and reign with an iron fist and a fucking brain. In fact, Dean thought she’d make an excellent ruler of Hell even. She was right from the start: This was what he’d wanted since the day she left him – a way to have her back in his life, didn’t matter if the plan was perfect, good, or straight-up evil. Being a demon, freed from all the chains of humanity, was the best fucking thing that ever happened to him – and he owed it all to her.

“Yeah?” She provokingly nudged his nose as her hand slid under his waistband and inside his boxer briefs, her palm rubbing along his throbbingly hard dick, causing him to growl lowly. “Show me, baby. Show me what a bad guy you can be,” she purred and tore into his plump bottom lip before letting it pop back in its place. “Show me how much you used to love me, how much I meant to you. Show me by fucking me like you hate me now... I wanna be your favorite toy again. Play with me, baby. Love me mercilessly.”

Effortlessly, he twirled her in his hold, pressing her tits against the wall. With one motion, he roughly pried the tight leather leggings over her asscheeks, his hand slipping to her front and cupping her bare and leaking pussy, her arousal trickling onto his finger pads.

“So fucking wet, hm? Did my slut miss me this badly, huh? You missed this cock, baby girl?” he breathed against the nape of her neck and inhaled her intoxicating scent once more before his teeth tore into her smooth flesh, making her cry out. His dick twitched in delight when her moans filled his ears as his digits rubbed at her clit and set the sensitive nerve endings on fire, her nails clawing away at the grimy motel room wall.

One hand then gripped her upper arm tightly and pinned her writhing body in place, his broad chest pressing against her back as his mouth marked her shoulders and spine.

“Cum once now, and I’ll fuck you into the next life, my little plaything,” he husked challengingly into her ear, and just as he thrust his first thick digit inside her waiting, hot center, she came undone and trembled in his hold.

That was one.

Kissing the salty drops from the slope of her neck, his chuckles vibrated against her heated skin. “Still a good girl after all this time. Impressive. You were almost fucking polite. Some things really don’t change, huh?”

Breathlessly, Y/N spun around to face him, the swell of her breasts that spilled out of the revealing top heaving with each erratic intake of air. She grinned crookedly up at him and locked her fingers behind his neck. “Well, haven’t you heard? All the good girls go to Hell. And I believe you promised me something,” she sang like the prettiest, most innocent damsel.

“Don’t be a brat, baby girl. Impatience is a vice,” Dean reminded her, eyes as dark as midnight while his thumb traced her kiss-swollen lips before stuffing his wet fingers into her mouth. Hungrily, he watched her suck them clean as she tasted the mess she’d made, the tip of her tongue provoking his pads and desiring something with more girth.

“Thought we were all about those vices now, my love,” she giggled darkly and kissed his open palm on her cheek before chasing his lips in a drunk delirium, clashing with pointed teeth and tongue.

His hand traveled to the back to cup her head, fingers weaving into her hair and tugging a fistful. Her knees were becoming wobbly, bending and giving in slightly, pulled down by his gravity on her planet, an instant reflex that only came from years of orbiting around each other.

“I want you so badly, De,” she breathed needily against his lips and caressed his cheek with a gentle touch, almost treating him as breakable, whispering, “I might not be able to love you anymore, but I still remember what it felt like, you know? It was so… pure.”

A smile graced his lips, one corner of his mouth rising higher than the other. “Yeah, I know what you mean, sweetheart.”

“You don’t have to worry anymore, baby. I’ll take care of you again. I’ll turn us into something great, amazing even,” Y/N vowed pantingly, the excitement sparkling in her eyes before she desperately claimed his pillowy lips like an addict chasing their next high.

Swiftly, the zipper of his jeans opened, the denim and cotton boxers pooling around his ankles before he gripped his rock-hard cock. Y/N rid herself of her leggings, her hand wrapping around the grip of the First Blade, still firmly stuck in the blood-stained wall. His hand quickly curled around hers on the weapon, a distrustful look glazing his dark green eyes.

“Trust me, okay? I’m not here to cramp your style, baby,” she assured him, a smile playing across her pink lips, and something in her vicious eyes told him that he could confide in her.

Dropping his hand from the blade, he smoothed his palms down her curves and gripped her hips tightly instead as she hoisted herself up on the blade and wrapped her legs around his waist, ankles crossing behind his back. His lips crashed against hers in a scorching kiss, teeth tearing and biting before he lined himself up with her entrance and violently thrust inside her dripping pussy to the hilt. She gasped a loud moan that surely could be heard all through the motel as he bottomed out completely, his dickhead slamming harshly against her cervix. He groaned and closed his eyes for a heartbeat as her warmth enveloped his entire cock. She’d always been the perfect fit for him.

“Missed this, huh?” Y/N teased him, grinning smugly, and watched his brow form furious creases.

“Shut the fuck up,” he grunted and pulled out enough to slam back into her with full force, one hand finding its way back to her throat.

“Oooh, bossy. I like the new you. So raw,” she smirked and gasped anew when he hammered into her again. “F-fuck, baby... That’s it.”

This time, it seemed to do the trick as Y/N’s voice stumped, and she fell silent, her head thumping back against the wall in pleasure as his hips snapped against hers, pounding into her at a furious and relentless speed, the motel room wall shaking with her body.

“You know, by the end of the night, I’ll make sure my cum’s leaking out of every pretty little hole of yours, baby girl. How would you like that, huh?”

With one deafening scream at his next hard and deep thrust, Y/N sinfully smirked at him and nodded eagerly. “Oh, I’d fucking love that, baby.”

Dean tenderly kissed the burning red scratches on her bare back, soothing the bittersweet pain a little as his fingertips traced his marks along her spine. He made good on his promise, fucked her into oblivion without showing her any mercy, so much so that they both lost their sense of time and the meaning of life and love. In the end, it all just trickled down to meaningless, random shit. Pleasure and power were all that truly mattered in this deranged world, after all.

Y/N giggled sweetly as he found another ticklish spot before she turned in his embrace and caught his lips. “So, morning light is here, baby boy. Time to make a choice,” she prompted, smirking broadly. “Wanna team up for a little destruction?”

Dean sent her a smile, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of her face as he gently caressed the rosy apples of her cheeks. Finally, he sealed their deal with a sacrilegious kiss.

“Alright, glad you made the right decision, baby,” Y/N teased, her wicked smile almost splitting her face in half. “You know what we have to do first, though, right?”

“Yeah, we need to kill Sammy, Cas, and Crowley before they ruin our fucking fun,” he replied and kissed a path down to her tits, sucking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

“Ding, ding, ding,” Y/N grinned happily upon his correct answer and wiggled her eyebrows before pushing his head further down between her legs to her abused cunt. “But first, make me scream for mercy again, my love.”

Dear Chuck, you better hide from this toxic af couple 😂 Hope you enjoyed this, babes! There’s another smutty one-shot coming tomorrow for V-Day and then I’m done harassing you 💖😉

Everything Jensen Tags: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373​ @lyarr24​ @deanwanddamons​ @deanwithscissors​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @justrealizedimmascifygurl​ @akshi8278​ @flamencodiva​ @chriszgirl92​ @lhymer1995 @wittyboldsoul​ @djs8891​ @leigh70​ @snowlovespie​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​ @recoveringpastaaddict @ladysparkles78​ @muhahaha303​ @mimaria420​ @creepzeyecandy​

Dean Tags: @parinarain​ @hobby27​ @fromcaintodean​

[give-bucky-his-boyfriend-back]

I wrote an angsty Demon! Dean one shot

Here's the synopsis

"“It’s all over your dad’s precious book, really. Sinning opens the mind up for demons, giving them access to your mind, and you sure are a sinner aren’t you? An angel longing for a human.” He inhaled again but this time more deeply and slowly. “Damn, I can just smell it off you, isn't that crazy?”

Castiel couldn’t suppress the wave of panic that surged through him. Dean knew.

Dean smiled to himself before he looked up at Castiel. “The old Dean really could have used these heightened senses you know? Maybe if he’d known you love him back he would have finally grown the balls to do something about it.” "

Demon Dean hits Castiel where it hurts the most.

[narcissisticmf]

anguish | sam winchester x gn!reader

request: ""go away." "that's the last thing you need from me right now." - Sam Winchester please 🙏 (him saying go away and reader saying following lines) and angsty?!❤️" from @bitchjerksammy

description: while sam is struggling mentally, y/n believes they can help him.

trigger warnings: angst, mentions of anxiety, mentions of depression, fluff, etc. read at your own risk.

word count: <1k

The bunker was quiet, the only subtle sounds came from old pages turning in books of lore and the furnace running lowly through the vents. The lamps flickered gently every so often as you sat in the bunker's library with a laptop propped open and an old men of letter's book beside you.

Your gaze rose to look at the time imprinted against the screen on your laptop. It read 10:56 AM. Your brows furrowed as Sam was nowhere to be seen this morning, the two of you had planned to do some case looking that morning.

Standing up from the table, you pushed your chair out and walked around the table to head down the hall towards Sam's room. Once you made it through the long corridor, you were before the youngest Winchester's bedroom door and knocked softly.

There was a pause. Stillness ran through the otherside of the door.

"Sam?" Your voice was soft as you leaned your head closer to the door.

"Yeah?" Sam answered, his voice muffled from the other room.

"Are you okay? You didn't forget about our plans this morning, did you?" You asked as you respectfully kept your hand off the doorknob.

There was no answer.

"Sam?"

Still no answer.

"Can I come in?" You asked.

There was a long string of silence before the doorknob twisted and the door was pulled opened. You saw the room was dimly lit by the lamp on Sam's beside table. You stepped in and saw that he walked away from the door and sat against the edge of his bed, still in his pajamas.

"What's going on?" You questioned.

"Nothing," Sam shook his head, avoiding eye contact

"Sam, cmon, you slept in past 7, that's not like you," You stood a fair distance from him as you watched him stare down into his lap.

"Y/N, I'm fine," He stated.

"Yeah and I'm the queen of England," You scoffed sarcastically. When Sam didn't chuckle or grin, you released a soft breath and took a seat beside him on his bed, keeping your gaze locked with his profile.

"Just.. go away," Sam mumbled.

"I think that's the last thing you need from me right now," You replied with your lips pressed together. "You either talk or don't, but I'm not leaving."

Sam lifted his head and turned his head to meet your warm gaze. You formed a small grin to create a sense of peace for him.

"You're really annoying, you know that?" Sam tried to fight his smile, but he failed miserably

"Maybe, but you love me," You smiled and nudged his shoulder with your own.

"Sure," Sam chuckled lightly.

"Ah cmon, I'm adorable," You laughed.

"Yeah, whatever," The youngest winchester had a smile on his face as he looked at you. You admired the way his lips curved into an upturned manner.

"We have work to do, so get changed and brush your teeth, your breath is smelly," You plugged your nose as Sam lightly shoved you in a playful approach. The two of you laughed as you stood up from the bed. You leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead as he sighed contently.

"I'll get you some coffee, okay?" You stated as Sam nodded with a warm grin.

Before you got the chance to leave the room, Sam stopped you, "Hey, Y/N/N?" You turned to look at him as you were under the doorway. "Thanks," He smiled softly.

"For what?" You furrowed your brow.

Sam continued to smile, "For checking on me."

"You don't have to thank me for that," You replied, "You're important to me, Sam. It's important to me that you're okay and when you're not I still wanna be there with you and for you."

Sam grinned and released a content breath through his nostrils, "I'll be out in a minute." You nodded with a smile and left the room, latching the door shut behind you.

.

a/n: thank you so much for your request!! AND FOR 1k!!! YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING and i literally love you all so so much. you have brought so much confidence in me with my work and i'm always so happy to write for you. thank you for reading and for taking part in my 1k followers event! <33 — angelina.

[billiewena]

obsessed with this supernatural-themed d&d homebrew class I just came across

[deadlydelicious]

ngl, i'm kind of mad we never got a locked-in bottle episode in season 10 where Sam is trapped in the bunker with Demon!Dean. Just a whole episode of cat and mouse while Sam tries to figure out how to trap Dean, and Dean tries to viciously murder him. like the 5 minute hallway sequence was not nearly enough

but then again whole libraries could be filled with the amount of wasted potential contained within certain supernatural arcs

[kaleldobrev]

Shiny New Toy Masterlist

After escaping the Bunker and bringing you to Hell, Demon Dean decides to make you his shiny new toy.

Part One: The First Orgasm (1.8k)

You’re Demon Dean’s shiny new toy

Part Two: On Your Knees (2.5k)

With one orgasm down, Dean is starting to have a little bit more fun with you

Part Three: Cream Filling (2.2k)

Dean finally fills you up just like he promised

Part Four: Code Red (1.4k)

Dean punishes you through spanking. But is it really a punishment?

Part Five: Finale (2.3k)

After everything that happened, how will your relationship change with Dean? Will it be for better or for worse?

[flugame-mp3]

SEASON NINE FINALE WAS WILD. I HAVE MANY MANY THOUGHTS. WHAT JUST HAPPENED. A FUCKING ROLLER COASTER FOR SURE

[weidli]

god in my time of dying really does get me Every time

[love-yourself-first-tfw]

Hard to Love - Part One

Pairing: MOC!Dean/Demon!Dean x Reader 

Prompt: While dating Dean, he gets more and more reclusive toward you when he is given the Mark of Cain. Unable to handle the behavior, you leave but some part of him isn’t willing to let you go. 

Word Count: 3883 :) 

Warnings: Angst, Break-Up, Violence, Demon!Dean, lots of tears. 

Author’s Note: I had this saved as a draft from the end of 2016, unfinished so I tried to finish it as well as I could. It just came out like word vomit but I’m not sure how much I like it. I tried my best to make it gender neutral so if there are any mistakes, please let me know! 

Part Two 

You noticed that when you were lying in bed, he had his back towards you, almost falling off the bed to get away from your presence. Unable to reach out and touch him in fear of rejection, you continued to stare at his Henley-covered back, watching his steady breaths.

"Dean? Is everything okay with us?" The question sounds weird, a lump pushing into your throat, uncomfortably. He answered with a grunt, nothing else, keeping with his recent code of silence toward you. A dejected hum leaves your lips.

Turning on your back, looking around the room at all the items -- with some of you sprinkled in-- that make it your shared room. Wringing your hands together as you think about where you can go, you can’t stay here anymore, not like this. You want to help him but how can you when he doesn’t even want to be near you?

                                                                              Something had changed in the last few weeks. He wouldn't look at you, let alone talk. He wouldn’t shut up with Sam and Cas, though. 

Maybe the hours of silence with me drove him to talk to them.

Dean is only close to you when you are in Baby, driving to a hunt. Not holding your hand anymore but instead gripping the wheel, knuckles turning white, not sparing a glance at you. You’d gone as far as changing the music, to a pop station nonetheless, in the middle of one of his songs, hopeful of a reaction.  

Yell! Look at me with disgust! Do something, please!

But par for the course, Dean does nothing. He stares at the road, unmoving and silent while Sam and you stare at him in disbelief. The tears well up as you look at the horizon to your right, trying your best to not break in front of either man. Trying to understand what you could do differently. 

You stop sitting up front. You don’t talk to him. You avoid him at the bunker. You respond with little-to-no passive-aggressive comments when Dean talks to you through Sam. You keep your crying to the bathroom and shower, alone. 

You knew the Mark would change him but not like this. 

He kissed you last week after a rough hunt, a close call with a witch causing a teeny moment of intimacy between you two. Both of you pulled away with wide eyes: yours in shock and his in... disappointment? He walked ran away before a talk could be had, disappearing somewhere in the main area, while you went to take a shower; a habit forming. 

No matter what you try he just keeps pulling away.

Do I keep trying? 

I can get my things together and leave by the next hunt. Dean won’t stop me if I want to stay home.

Home. The thought made it so much more real. This is your home; Dean is your home. You take a sharp breath through your nose, trying not to make too much noise as you got up, going somewhere the breakdown won’t bother Dean.

                                                                                When Sam comes up to you in the morning, letting you know that there’s a possible ghost in the next town over, an easy salt and burn. You sniffle for effect as you tell Sam that you’re not feeling the greatest, watching his eyes drop in sympathy. 

He throws his arm around your shoulders, leading you back toward your bedroom.

“You shouldn’t be up then, dude. Go lay down, I’ll bring you some medicine before we leave, and I’ll tell Dean you aren’t coming. I’m sure he’ll want to see you.” 

You don’t need to look at Sam to know he doesn’t believe what he’s saying but you thank him regardless, feeling guilty about what the future will be. A hug in the doorway, tighter on your end than usual, ends when he pulls away and helps you back into bed. 

Sam comes back with some pills and a cup of water, ice clinking against the glass, with each stride. “Do you need anything else?” 

With the blanket tucked under your chin, you shake your head. “No, I’m good. I’m just gonna sleep it off and if it gets worse, I’ll text you, okay?” 

“Okay, I hope you feel better soon, (Y/N/N), and don’t beat yourself up about Dean. He’s not doing well with the Mark; he still loves you.” 

You close your eyes and turn your back to him after you nod to his comment, trying to hint that he’s good to leave and that if he stays, you’d rather not talk.

“Thanks, Sammy. I love ya.” 

“Love you too, (Y/N).” 

The click of the door shutting follows the flick of the light switch. And more tears. Silent and steady as you listen and wait for the departure that begins the end of life as you know it. 

Exhausted from the last few days of one-sided fighting, you try to fight off the sleep that takes over, but you slip under just as the hall light spills in when Dean peaks his head past the door frame. 

                                                                              It’s a few hours later when you wake up to a text from Sam, they’ve made it to the cozy town, and he will let you know when it’s done or if they have any problems. You let him know you feel better before wishing them luck on the hunt, getting up, and beginning the process of mission: Disappearing (Y/N). 

With a sigh, you start going through the knick-knacks that you’ve collected over the years, sighing again when you realize that all things will just remind you of him. Anger flares within you, the white-hot rage of your hand being forced, the whole situation out of your control. 

Leaving the small things and just grabbing your clothes from the closet, looking around the room for anything that could be useful on the trip. No mementos to save. You slam the door on your way out, going to your old room next, going through the same routine as before.

Two filled duffel bags sit in the back seat of your car when you finish, mostly clothes and things you’d brought with you when you moved into the bunker. Not running around anymore, the rush of adrenaline begins to fade turning into more anger. 

“Why!? I don’t understand?!” You hit the steering wheel with your palms, letting out a scream that transforms into an ugly wet, wail. 

A note laying in the war room, on the map table, explains why you left, addressed to Sam, in a last effort to be heard or at the very least get the last word. Your phone is on top of the note, showing the seriousness of your actions.

Sam,

Maybe we will see each other on the road again but I can’t stay somewhere I’m clearly not wanted. I’m sorry for lying to you and not saying goodbye in person. I don’t think I would’ve gone otherwise. Love ya, dude. Tell jerk face that I’ll always love him even if he has that mark on his arm, if he becomes a demon, or if he hates me. Always. 

I hope the best for you in the future. 

Goodbye,

(Y/N)

You wipe your nose with your sleeve, lifting your head from the steering wheel to embark on the journey to a new home. 

                                                                              In just a few months, you are settled in your new apartment in Colorado, taking a break from hunting to get familiar with the area. Neither Dean nor Sam gets into contact with you, whether that’s not wanting to or for lack of trying, you don’t know. 

With a new job in a library in town, you try to get past the guilt that sweeps over you every now and then, reminding yourself of the way you were treated. Of why you left in the first place. 

Unlocking the door after a long Monday of reshelving books, the silence of the apartment is disturbed by your keys going into the bowl next to the coat rack. You slip your shoes off before sliding your jacket off and onto the rack, turning to the living room and shouting in shock at Dean, who is standing, arms crossed, in front of the couch. 

“What the hell? Why are you in my house?” 

“Why do you have a devil’s trap in your living room?” He smirks, a glint in his eyes that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “Seems like you were expecting someone.” 

You put it there when you moved in, taking a page from Bobby’s book by using invisible blacklight paint. Decided that while one is useful in front of the door, the living room was also easy to run through if caught off guard, with no door to slow you down, and no one expects it there. 

Looking him over again before answering his question, his face is thinner than when you last saw him, hair gelled in a way that looks unnatural for him. His dark red button-up hangs loosely on his body. 

“For this reason. Though I can’t say I expected you to be stuck in it. Who killed you?” 

“Metatron. Though to be fair, I did try to kill him first.” You hum as he tries-- and fails-- to sit on the couch. “You couldn’t have made this any smaller, huh?” 

The smirk on his face only grows as he feels irritation roll off of you. “What do you want, Dean?” 

Now it’s his turn to look you up and down, wetting his lips before speaking. “I can think of a couple things.” 

You roll your eyes and make your way to your bedroom. 

“Oh, c’mon. I was just joking, sweetheart!” 

You ignore his words and change into comfortable clothes before dialing Sam’s number, deciding that letting him know was better than waiting for any more of Dean’s antics. 

“Hello?”

“Sam? It’s (Y/N). Dean just showed up at my house and got stuck in a devil’s trap.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead.

Another shout from the living room brings tears to your eyes, the love of your life so close but so far at the same time. 

“Just wanted to talk to ya! You gonna leave me out here alone?” 

Sam asks for your address, giving you the details of what had conspired in the last couple of weeks: Dean dying and being turned into a demon, then bolting and teaming up with Crowley-- doing only God knows what around the country-- meanwhile Sam is doing everything he can to find and cure his brother.

“I’m not too far from you but I’ll still be awhile. Like...” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “maybe seven hours. I’m sorry I can’t get there sooner.” 

“It’s okay, I’ll keep him here. I can’t say he’ll be in a happy mood when you get here.” 

“Well, he won’t be happy to see me anyway, so it won’t matter. Thanks for the heads up though. I’ll let you know when I get there.” 

“Okay, see you soon, Sam.” 

With a deep breath, you slid out into the hallway, building up the confidence to make yourself visible to Dean. 

“You can do this. Make your dinner and ignore the living, breathing, talking, statue in the middle of your apartment.” Nodding to yourself, you walk out with your chin up. 

“There you are!” 

Dean’s eyes follow you past him and the couch as you move to the kitchen. Keeping busy with the leftovers, you avoid making eye contact with Dean, brushing his announcement off with silence. When you put the plate of chicken and rice into the microwave, your focus drifts from the timer counting down to those vibrant pools of green, ominous black hiding behind them. 

His eyebrows raise up in amusement, “You lose. Are you going to talk to me now?” 

“How ‘bout no.” You cross your arms, scoffing at the question.

“You just did, baby. Now just hear me out, you said you’d still love me as a demon, but this doesn’t feel like love to me.” 

He chuckles darkly at the end of his words. His demeanor changes: eyebrows pulling down, eyes darkening, and a sneer coming onto his lips. 

The microwave beeps, pulling your attention away, though your words slip out before you can think about it. “I do still love you, jerk face.” 

It’s not a secret or a lie, you just didn’t want to say it aloud. It had been peaceful dissociating from all that and using every waking moment to adjust to the new way of living without him, not knowing if he would ever come back. 

The plate hits the counter harder than you mean for it to, tears stinging your eyes again. “What do you want from me, Dean? I left so you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about whatever the fuck you felt guilty about. You didn’t want to explain it to me then, what do you possibly have to say now?” 

A split second of shock passes Dean’s face before it’s back to anger. He opens his mouth, but you cut him off before he can say anything, pulling the silverware drawer open and grabbing a fork. 

“No, seriously. I. Don’t. Care. There really is no fucking excuse for what you put me through. So, unless you want to say sorry-- which I highly doubt, considering the black eyes rolling around back there-- shut up.” You slam the drawer: the loud noise and rattling of metals end your shouting. Taking a deep breath and beginning to eat, your back turned away from him, with a tiny, fragment of hope he actually listens. 

He blows a raspberry, “Well, that’s where you are sorely mistaken. I’m sorry for what the numb nuts did to you. To think, I could’ve had you from the beginning if he’d just said a few words to you now and again.” 

Your chewing stops as the food becomes a rock in your mouth, no longer able to swallow as you listen to him. Staring ahead at the balcony door as he continues spewing words at you. 

“Instead of all the cheap whores in dingy bars, I could’ve had you. Waiting on little ole’ me.” It’s clear from his tone that he is mocking you, taunting your words. Even though the relationship is over, the words make your chest twist uncomfortably, your watery eyes finally spilling over. 

“Whatever, have fun out here by yourself.” You leave the half-eaten meal on the counter, not sparing a glance at the man as you pass him to go to your room, keeping your head down to hide the tears that stream down your face. 

Slamming the door, shoving your face in a pillow, and screaming to relieve the stress of the situation, only helps bring more cries out of you. You know it’s not the Dean you knew talking to you but the twisted and dark version, wanting what he wants with no care about who it may affect. 

The darkness of your eyelids fluttering takes over you as you fall asleep to Dean’s calls to you. A dream of your life from before fills your head, one more moment with Dean that you can hope to forget when you wake.

                                                                            You jerk awake when your phone buzzes from a text, the vibrations magnified by the wood of the side table. Two texts from Sam illuminate the screen. 

From Sam: I just got into town I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

From Sam: Just got to your apartment. You get my first text?

To Sam: Sorry, fell asleep. 2C. Door’s unlocked for you. 

From Sam: I’ll be up there soon. 

When you take a moment to listen, it’s completely silent. Panicking at the thought that Dean was able to get away before Sam and you could cure him, you rush to the living room. Dean stands still, glaring at you as you appear from the hallway.

His lips are drawn into a sneer as he snarls, “how nice of you to come to see your guest.” 

The door opens as he ends, catching his attention, a scoff comes from him when Sam comes around the door. 

“I told you to fuck off, Sam. I don’t want you to be cured.”

Sam just shrugs, putting the duffel bag on the couch, and unloading some tools to get Dean back to the bunker with little to no issues. 

“Dean, you told me that you’d leave (Y/N) alone. So, what’s that about? Tired of the demon life?” 

Sam motions to you, hair crumpled from the impromptu nap, eyes, and nose red from crying. “You’ve been bar hopping for weeks on end, new people in your bed every night. Your freaking wet dream. Why are you here, ripping open an old wound, on someone who clearly doesn’t want shit from you?”  

“I saw you. You were at the bar in town, with some others, didn’t even notice me when I sat down at the bar top-- can’t say your observation skills were ever the best anyway.” Dean eyes you as he speaks, watching your jaw clench at the small dig toward you. 

“And then I get a call from some dude about how he caught Sam and if I wanted him back alive, I’d have to switch places with him, I told him to fuck off and came here instead. Looks like you made it alright, didn’t ya, Sammy?” 

“Yup, just like always.” He puts his good hand on your back, steering you towards the kitchen. 

“What the hell, seriously, Sam? What happened?” 

Sam leans against the countertop, his chin resting on his chest as he takes a deep breath. You reach into the freezer for a bag of peas, wrap it in a towel, and press it to his black eye, letting him hold the makeshift icepack when he winces. 

“He pulled up when I was stranded on the side of the road, I thought he was going to help but he knocked me out and brought me to an old barn, maybe?” 

His head drops, no longer making eye contact with you. 

“He called Dean and then when Dean hung up, he just went off.” Mocking the man who had tortured him only a day before, Sam’s voice lowers comically, “He killed my father in front of me...Two tours in Iraq in Special OPS...blah blah blah. Then he hit me a bunch, trying to get Dean’s location.” 

Two tours in Iraq? Special OPS? 

His pause allows you to ask your next question of many, “how did you get away?” 

“He got a phone call and when he pulled his phone out, his knife fell from his pocket, and I just got out.” 

A twinge of doubt and anxiety spread through you, the words “that seems too easy” on your lips after he explains. He finally looks back at you, seeing the questioning expression on your face.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He lowers the frozen peas when you make your way to the living room again. 

“You mean to tell me that a solider, not just any ol’ solider at that, special OPS who served two tours in Iraq and he just dropped a knife, that let you get away?” 

As if to emphasize your point, the whole house goes dark. You reach the bookshelf behind Dean, both men watching you. The few beats of silence are broken when the front window breaks, a canister rolling onto the floor behind the couch, spraying a thick, white cloud of smoke. 

It reaches Sam first, harsh coughs coming from him as he yells for you to get to the backyard. Feeling the wall by the bookcase, you find the string taped to the wall that will break the seal when pulled. Feeling your eyes water, nose and throat burning, you tug the string with you as you move toward the back door, breaking the trap’s seal, and releasing Dean.

The smoke impedes your vision, your hip catches on the corner of the couch making you stumble to the floor, and more coughs force their way up through your lips. 

Arms encircle your waist, and harsh whispers come over your shoulder, “Jesus, your life is in danger, and you release the demon, how sickening.” He helps you to the fresh air that burns when you greedily suck it down. 

Dean’s support leaves your body, your knees hitting the moist grass that seeps through your sweatpants. When you open your eyes, you have to blink past the tears to see Sam lying next to you and Dean in front of you.  An unknown voice speaks to Dean, emotional and hate-filled, “You remember me?” 

“Yeah, you’re the guy from that thing.” 

“We talked on the phone. This is payback.”

The two men begin to fight, Dean doesn’t even try to pull punches, continuing to belittle him, yelling coming from Cole with every hit that he takes. Sam moves, waking up from a hit to the head, eyes meeting yours before flitting to Dean. Dean taunts and throws the man’s gun to the side, winking at you before he turns back to the fight.

“...spitballing here, but maybe you’re not as good as you think.” 

A pause from Dean before he laughs. “Ooh,” Dean’s hands go up in a fake surrender wave, “You know kung-fu?”

“I know everything.”

Dean gets into Cole’s face after quoting The Princess Bride, making his first mistake as Cole slices his face with his knife. Going to stab, only angering Dean more when he grabs Cole’s throat.

“You have no idea what you walked into, do you?”

“What are you?” 

Knowing Dean’s eyes are black at the expression on Cole’s face, you close your eyes, hearing the rest of the fight and Cole egging Dean on to kill him. 

“I changed my mind, I guess.” Dean chuckles before he breaks out in a hiss.

“It’s over! Stop.” 

You open your eyes and see that Sam has managed to get the Devil’s trap handcuffs on Dean. A murderous look on Dean’s face, staring up at Sam from his knees. Sam ignores his brother’s glare, looking at you as you sit back on your heels. “You okay, (Y/N/N)?”

You nod, watching Sam force Dean into the back of Baby, unable to take your eyes off Dean, who continues to kill Sam with his unblinking, scowl. 

Sam helps you up, keeping an eye on Dean so he can’t escape. “You can come with us. I’m giving the first blade to Crowley and I’m going to try to cure him. I don’t know if it’ll work but I’m hopeful.” 

You look back to your house; in the scuffle to get Dean, neither you nor Sam see where Cole flees to-- the feeling of safety and home lost, now that the invasion is over. 

Sighing, you wrap your arms around yourself, nodding and speaking softly, “yeah, let me just grab a couple of things and I’ll be down. You might need some help with him.” 

Looking back at Dean, you speak again, unsure how firm the words are. “I’ll stay until he’s cured but after that, I’m gonna go.” 

                                                                          Part Two

[zepskies]

Hey could I request angsty and fluffy headcanons for Dean having a crush on reader but he thinks she has a crush on Sam but she actually has a crush on Dean back

Hey lovely!

So I kiiiind of already did this type of prompt with "Dean gives you an impossible choice" and its sequel, "Choosing Him."

But I'll do another imagine in this vein for you! ❤️

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 1,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst(ish), fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Dean reads you wrong.

When Dean falls for someone, it's "slow and steady wins the race."

But the spark. That spark is instant.

He feels it with you.

Your pretty smile. Your "get it done" attitude that mirrors his. The way you know all of his references, whether it's movies or TV or music — you grew up learning how to tell time from what was on TV, just like him.

It's the way you laugh with him, share quiet moments of contemplation with him, and even moments of grief with him. Even when it's his grief, you always come. Whether it's to sit beside him, or share a drink with him, or make him something you know he likes, or get him to take a drive with you.

But realistically, you have more in common with Sam.

Both of you are bookish (nerds). You two get into heated discussions about Dante's Inferno and proper Latin translations. (You always accuse Sam of his pronunciations being off, while Sam argues, "At least I remember the whole exorcism. You think the damn demon cares if my vowels are off?")

You and Sam bicker. You playfully tease him, bring smiles to his face just as often as you bring them to Dean's. You're comfortable with him, playfully jabbing his arm or his chest when you mess with him.

Sam takes it with a smile, or a slight roll of his eyes, but always with fondness.

Dean can't help the churning in his stomach. Every time he thinks he has a read on you. Every time he thinks it's safe to maybe, one day, after a hunt, after an episode of Dr. Sexy, after you get out of the shower, after he's made you a home-cooked meal, after you sit with him and talk about everything and nothing while he works on his car — he thinks he might have a shot if he asked you out.

But he always falters, because he just can't fucking tell. He thinks you and Sam have something.

And Dean...he likes you. A lot.

More than he's ever willingly expressed.

But despite his reputation with women, he's never, and will never, step on his brother's toes.

Until he can't help himself.

It's your birthday. Sam got you a series of books he recommended to you last month. (Again, fucking nerds.) Dean got the booze and made the food to celebrate.

But you're surprised, and even a little teary when he brings out the cake he bought at an honest-to-God bakery. He even stood in line, waited 30 minutes to have them write your name on it, with little balloons. The frosting letters are drawn in your favorite color.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," Dean tells you. His tone is a little too soft. It's because he sees your unshed tears, and his heart clenches.

It's just a fucking cake.

Does it really matter that much to you?

But he still feels a well of warmth and pride in his chest. He turns to his brother with a smirk. "I win."

It's meant to be playful, but he kind of means it. Sam just eyes him knowingly.

"Sure," Sam laughs.

What the hell does that mean? Dean nearly frowns. But he's soon distracted — by you leaning in close to kiss him on the cheek.

He turns just in time (with slightly wider eyes) to see you blush.

That smile tells him something.

"Thanks, guys," you say to both of them. But your hand lingers on Dean's wrist, squeezing a bit.

At the end of the night, Sam turns in early. You stick around to help Dean clean up.

"Aw, stop. You're the birthday girl. I got this," Dean says, waving you off. You join him at the kitchen counter and lay a hand on his arm.

"Dean," you say softly. It earns his attention. You look a little nervous, your eyes falling from his, then meeting them again.

"What's the matter?" he asks. His brows furrow. He's thinking of your lips on his cheek. Unconsciously he glances down at your pretty mouth.

"Was wondering if you could help me with a birthday wish," you said.

A smile begins to tug at your lips, and Dean can't help but smile back. Intrigue, and a small tremor of something triggers up his spine.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" he asks.

You bite your lip. "Okay...I'm going to ask you this once. Yes or no. And if it's no...then we won't talk about it ever again and you'll have to wipe it out of your memory, because I don't want to make things weird or make you uncomfortable and I don't want to have to do something drastic, like leave the Bunker—"

Dean's smile falls as his brows raise in slight alarm. He also raises placating hands to stop your verbal flapping.

"Whoa, hey. What? What the hell kinda birthday question is this?"

You close your eyes and take a breath. "Okay."

Your eyes open, and as what happens far too often, Dean's captured by them.

"Close your eyes for me," you request.

"My eyes need to be closed to answer a damn question?"

"Damn it, Dean. Just do it, please!"

He lets out a slightly peeved breath, but he obliges you, shutting his lids. He really doesn't know what the hell is going on...until you lay a bracing hand on his chest and press a soft kiss to his lips.

For a moment, he freezes.

He inhales deeply through his nose as the surprise fades.

Relief floods in its wake.

A smile reaches his face.

But soon enough, before you can pull away, he grasps your upper arms to hold you in place. He dips his head down to kiss you in earnest. His lips find yours, gentle at first, and then gaining in passion.

He learns quickly the pattern of your lips, and the heady feeling of that knowing travels straight to his brain, stronger than the whiskey he drank earlier.

It's like you two were made to move together. To end up just like this.

You both are breathless by the time your eyes slide open and meet one another.

Dean's lips curve into a smirk. "How's that answer for ya?"

Your smile is beaming bright.

"Yeah, that works."

Chuckling, he pulls you in closer and tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing your blush-warmed cheek.

And he answers you again.

AN: Ugh, I'm sappy as hell. 😂 Hope you liked this! Let me know what you think. 😉

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