#like Dean fucks an angel and it’s not him :o

[rat-hand]

Castiel was so jealous in “heaven and hell”!

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— THE CULT OF DEVOTION

SUMMARY : “Hii! New follower here, can I request a smut with yandere dean winchester? :)” — anon

PAIRING : vampire!dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : Andy Halle (OMC)

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), baker!dean, stalking (it’s only hot if dean does it), angst, unhealthy obsession, yandere!Dean, nerdy reader, reader isn’t perfect, chronic illness, and more to come

WORD COUNT : 4.8k 

A/N : fob song title. the last time I read a yandere fic was like seven years ago about Min Yoonngi of BTS, I hope it's accurate. this series is for the square for stockholm syndrome on my @jacklesversebingo card. this is super fricken late, but come on, vampire!Dean has my heart (and pu*sy), lmao. Let’s please pretend that vampires have sexy teeth, ‘cause what the fuck, Supernatural? xx

September, 2023

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he felt this alive.

What was it about you that made his breath catch? And the irritating tease that his heart should flutter? As if at any moment his desiccated heart would start beating again after twelve years of being in between dead and alive? 

Why did your existence call to him and become the centre of his life since he met you? How had only thirty minutes passed since he felt a gravitational pull from you? Like waves, gentle, invisible waves that weren’t meant to be felt by anyone. Somehow, they caressed his… something… God, his heart? His soul? Did he even have one of those anymore?

He wasn’t sure of anything. But he was sure that he loved you. 

He heard your quiet, but excited “Oh, my God.” from the entrance of the bakery he’s proud of being the owner of. He looked up to gloat, but the smile fell from his face when he saw you smile tenderly, in awe, at the decor and then the dozens of menus on a rack by the entrance.

You didn’t know, unfortunately, but as the glass door shut behind you, the sun poured over you like honey. The sunlight dripped down your skin and hair and made you glow brighter and more captivating than any angel he’d ever seen. The wind carried the scent of you to his nose, your saccharine shampoo and sugary skin overpowering the confectioneries he’d created. 

The Milky Way Galaxy lived in your eyes when you looked over at the displays, admiring his hard work. You swiftly took one of the menus from the rack, the one hiding in the back, and your eyes avoided the counter at all costs. You made yourself small and unnoticeable by standing in a corner that no one would go near as you whispered—but he heard you clear as an angel’s voice—“oh, yum.”

The door opened again and your hair teased your skin like soft tendrils and every move you made was painfully, naturally graceful. You sneaked a quick glance at the door and then thoughtfully watched as the unimpressive person walked straight towards the counter. 

Dean could feel his throat burn and his lips turn dry. Not hungry for blood, more than anything, he longed for a taste of your lips.

He could smell the rose tint on them and smelled traces of it on your cheeks. He could only feel you. The flutter of your curled lashes, the delicate breaths you took, the way you shivered from the door opening. You huffed in irritation, pulling your green cardigan closer to your warm body. He felt his skin tingle as the cotton brushed against your skin, against the tight white tank top wrapped around your torso. 

He loved the way your cropped shirt rode up at your waistline and the sight of your warm abdomen over your mid-rise jeans. If he could, and he really wanted to, he’d kiss every inch of your sweet skin to feel it blaze against his cold lips. From your ankles hidden beneath bunny-print socks, to the top of your breasts teasing him from the dip of your shirt, up to your neck where your pulse ran with the blood of your heart, but mostly, to your reddened lips as your white teeth sank into the plump flesh after being swiped by your pink tongue.

You looked better than anything he’d ever baked.

“Hey, Dean-o, how’s work?” 

He hated to turn away from you, but he did, to momentarily put his attention on Andy Halle, who came by every weekday around 5:35 every afternoon. His hazel eyes scanned the menu above, but Dean didn’t expect him to change his order anytime soon. 

“Work’s fine. What’ll it be today?” Dean’s eyes flickered back over to you. You stared with nervous familiarity at Andy and Dean noticed your hesitation. Your eyes darted to the exit and Dean was so desperate to talk to you for the first time that he considered shouting after you. But he didn’t know what to say to make you stay, he might even scare you off. 

“I’ll just have what I always have,” Andy mumbled sheepishly. 

“Alright,” Dean huffed out a distracted laugh and held his breath the moment your eyes locked on his. It felt strange that his heart didn’t react, he waited with frustration for it to start beating again, pumping warm blood through his body, and up his face at the way you regarded him curiously. You smiled after a few seconds and averted your gaze shyly, seeming somewhat embarrassed. Dean bit his lip, unsuccessfully stopping his smirk from growing, and focused back on Andy just to ease the blood that had risen up to your cheeks.

Dean took the crumpled money from Andy and handed him his change, but the rest of Dean’s senses were still fixated on you. You sighed bravely and your heeled boots brought you closer to the counter that Andy was now leaving after murmuring a thanks.

Unfortunately, your introduction to Dean was stalled when Andy looked up from his phone to avoid bumping into you. Your name slipped from his mouth in quiet awe and Dean reeled at the knowledge he’d been yearning for. He somehow managed to tear himself away from the place he was rooted to, and murmured your name under his breath, dreamily. 

He started making Andy’s drink and eavesdropped on your conversation with him. He’d glance up at you and Andy in between tasks. 

He caught the awkward, uncomfortable hug Andy seemed to enjoy more than you did and your calculated gaze in his direction again. Dean couldn’t help smiling at you again when your eyes found his and you returned it bashfully before focusing back on Andy. 

Dean wished you would keep your gaze on him. That you’d smile at him longer and bid Andy farewell so you could finally interact with him. 

But you seemed slightly excited to see Andy, despite the nervousness that settled beneath. And Dean’s stomach sank, like a mini black hole that sucked in his insides, a heavy feeling inside him as he considered that maybe you were immune to his charms. Every woman he came across seemed to lose their composure and train of thought. 

But you didn’t do that. You ignored him as if he were just debris in your orbit. To him, it was unacceptable that you would allow the light of your smile and eyes to shine on someone as ordinary and undeserving as Andy. 

He didn’t have a problem with Andy before. But now he did. Dean could point out a hundred physical flaws and a billion flaws in his personality just to make you see that Andy didn't deserve to consume a single second of your precious time.

Dean couldn’t believe he was jealous. 

He relaxed his grip on the counter and breathed air he didn’t actually need to relax himself and focused on making Andy’s coffee—which Dean believed was unnecessarily sweet—while he seethed. 

Why was he jealous of Andy Halle, a boring ex-military guy? Maybe because Andy seemed to know everything about you that he wanted to know. Why did you give Andy your time when you could be talking to him instead? Sure, it’s just be you ordering your drink or your dessert, but something was better than nothing and he needed to be in your galaxy, to be a part of your stars. Even if he was just Pluto in your solar system, as long as he got to be around your perfect, burning light.

His stomach churned, his jaw clenched, irritation burned at his chest, and he considered making Andy’s drink incorrectly just to spite him. Andy puffed his chest, flexed his arms beneath the Henley as if trying to get your attention, to impress you, but you seemed distracted by a tiny imperfection on the marble floor.

“You look amazing, how are you doing?” He asked, slowly reaching over to touch your arm. You snapped out of your daze when he did and subtly pulled yourself away from him. 

You seemed nervous again, your words came late and they were careful only when responding about yourself, because after that, you rambled like a person inexperienced with socialising. “I’m great. How was Poland? I know that was ages ago, but that’s the last I heard of you, I’ve been so busy with my PhD-”

“You got your PhD already?” He interrupted you. Dean smelled the blood rush up to your face again and you stuttered to dismiss such a big achievement. “I’m still working on my Bachelor’s-”

“Everyone works at different paces,” you interrupted him before he could put the spotlight on you and intensify the light. “Bela double majored Accounting and Economics and graduated a year earlier than I did. There was a 55 year-old in my graduating class, as well. He was very smart and he helped me out a lot whenever I was stuck. Every person is different and education doesn’t have to be rushed.” 

Your words had Dean wondering what you would say if he told you he dropped out of high school and only acquired his GED? Would you be as kind? Would you downplay and dismiss all your greatness just to lift him up? Would you work twice as hard to bury yourself in the nonexistent shadows just so you could hide in plain sight? As if you could ever be ordinary. As if anyone had a shadow big enough to hide you, his Sun. 

Andy just laughed, fondly and reminiscent. He must have caught the hint that you didn’t want to talk about yourself. He must have forgotten and only then remembered the way that you were, and that maybe you were still the same in some ways as you were before, because he changed the subject for you. 

Dean felt worse. He wanted to have had all that time with you. To have all that intimate knowledge of the inner workings of your mind. He wanted to have an intricate map of your soul and your heart. He needed it like he needed blood to keep himself soft and far away from being desiccated. 

“Poland was alright. I just did a tour there. Met some great guys there. We went to a couple of other places in Europe and the Middle East. What about Bela and Daph? They didn’t follow you here?” His tone was teasing and your exhale was sad, but your words didn’t reflect the grief Dean felt coming from you in agonising waves. 

“Come on, we’re not gonna be the Three Amigos! forever,” you laughed halfheartedly. Your reference excited Dean, but he focused on closing the lid to Andy’s hot drink and carefully pulled the chocolate croissant out of the heated oven beneath the counter. Could you be any more perfect for him? “Daph’s starting to work at some fancy law firm in California and Bela dragged her girlfriend to New York for some high-paying job,” you shrugged indifferently, but Dean noticed your loneliness. 

He knew better than anyone what it felt like when people weft and weave themselves into your life only to find those threads completely severed from you. Separate destinies. Like seeing himself as a vampire now, having his traumatised brother now trapped in a psychiatric ward for the foreseeable future, and his best friend being consumed by thick black goo—ceasing to exist. 

That was his life now: all alone and out of place in a bakery. 

At least he had something now. You, and in the fifteen minutes that he prepared Andy’s order, he knew more about you than he imagined he’d get on a first meeting. 

You were born here in Lawrence but you’d moved away to go to university with your two best friends. The three of you were focused on separate majors, but somehow the cardings of the three of you were of the strongest metals. You built your resume, prepared yourself with your knowledge and skills in genetics there, before coming back here. 

While Daphne focused on ambition, being the best lawyer, Bela focused on accumulating wealth and building a family with her girlfriend Rose. You… What were you up to? What were your dreams? Your hopes? Your ambitions?

You sounded as dead as he felt. As dead as he was. Like nothing mattered to you. When did that start? Was that always a thing with you? He figured it must have been since Andy seemed to be unsurprised by your jaded attitude towards life.

Imagining you in a lab coat was suddenly the sexiest thing ever. Even the image of you with your hair pulled up looked sexy in his mind. Were geneticists supposed to be sexy? Or was that just the porn-induced image his mind produced? Maybe you were just sexy in every way and discovering what you’ve been up to since you’d last seen Andy, only made him want you more.

Dean couldn’t fathom objectifying you. You were too good for that. 

“Have you had any flare ups?” Andy asked and Dean frowned as he placed the warm snack into a small paper bag on the counter about to call Andy’s name to gain his attention. But he was curious and slowed down. Flare ups?

“No,” you replied, but Dean heard the jump in your pulse. You liar. What were you sick with? “I’m better now. I think your order’s ready.” Dean tried to act calm when you said that and needlessly took two napkins to put above the brown bag containing the hot croissant to look busy. 

“Oh.” Andy stole a look at Dean just as he pushed the cup and bag to the edge of the counter. Andy wavered. “I’ll see you around, right? We can catch up? Go somewhere, even?” He seemed pathetically disappointed and desperate to get to see you. 

Your delayed response made Dean’s lips quirk up. He wanted you to crush any chance or hope that he would spend time with you. But you were probably too kind to be that cruel. “Maybe not for a few days. I’m still unpacking and settling into work. But maybe once everything is calmer, we can hang out.” 

Dejected, Andy nodded, forcing a smile so dimples appeared on his cheeks. He looked down at you when you looked away at the counter, with love in his gaze, romantic love. Dean wanted to vomit in his mouth, but his body didn’t work that way anymore. “I hope everything goes well for you. I really missed you.” 

“Um, thanks,” you smiled and nodded towards the counter. Wow, that’s cold, Dean thought as he held back a sneer. But you seemed more distracted than intent on hurting his feelings. “Before it gets cold. Any suggestions?” You began to walk towards Dean and if he could, he’d pant and hyperventilate at your closeness, even if you were still a distance away from him.

“Right,” Andy inhaled and shook his head gently so his light brown waves shook against his forehead, “you should probably try the rhubarb pie. You still like pie?”

“Yes,” you grinned, bright and playful. Dean would marry you if you were even remotely interested in him. 

You were standing right in front of him. 

Finally, Dean could see you clearly. You wore no makeup besides the tint that brought colour to your lips and cheeks. Your smooth skin against the light was downright kissable. But not as kissable as your plump lips, even if they were slightly chapped beneath the pinkish tint you wore. He bet your mouth felt amazing. 

You smiled, relaxed, showing your pretty teeth. For the first time, Dean wished you’d sink your canines into his neck. And then, your tongue poked out to ease the dryness of your lips and he imagined you’d lick the bite marks you’d leave behind on his throat. He’d love the burn of your saliva on his cold skin, the trail of wet warmth along where his pulse would be pounding with excitement if he were alive. 

He ached for you. Could you please just be his already?

Andy took his drink and the bag with napkins on top. 

“Can I text you?” He asked as he began to retreat.

“Uh, sure,” you shrugged, noncommittal. “I’ll give you my new number so we can message each other outside of social media, just remind me.” Andy grinned happily at your response and Dean looked down to hide the way he rolled his eyes. 

Dean wished you hadn’t done that. He wanted you all to himself. The only hope Dean had that you didn’t return Andy’s feelings was the lack of warmth and heat in your gorgeous eyes, a look which only seemed to steam from Andy’s hazel-greens.

“I do gotta get home, my dog’s all alone.”

“Don’t keep Price waiting,” you teased. Andy laughed as he made his way out and your smile relaxed more into something neutral once you were alone with Dean.

Except, now, Dean couldn’t find words. What happened to his brain?

“Hi,” your shy little smile was an electric current that jump started his entire body. Dean swallowed, but smiled as he gazed down at you, he hoped he didn’t look as in love with you as he felt. 

“Hey,” he breathed out. 

He watched you still, your longing gaze intensified as your eyes swept over the desserts on display once again. He didn’t want to rush you, he wanted to keep you from leaving as long as he could, but you didn’t want to waste his time. He could tell by the way you’d look up at him with your adorable wide eyes. 

“Sorry,” you smiled ruefully.

“No, don’t worry about it. You want the rhubarb pie?” He asked softly. You relaxed visibly at his patience and fumbled with something in the small front pocket of your jeans. 

“Um,” you looked around at the displays indecisively. “Yes, I’ll have that,” you confirmed and Dean was only slightly disappointed that you’d made up your mind so quickly. He nodded and prepared to take a slice from the pie. Should he serve you a big size? 

He felt your gaze on him as he moved around. Fuck, he wanted to blush. Could you reignite his soul already and just allow him to feel human again? 

“What do you think I should try?” You asked curiously, breaking him out of his reverie. He could feel you leaning forward carefully, not enough so your body touched the glass that protected the desserts, but enough so the thin silver necklace resting against your collarbone clinked against the glass. 

Dean looked at you through his lashes and retrieved the generous slice of pie from the rest of its body to place it into a small cardboard box. Your eyes moved over his face inquisitively. 

“Currently, I’m having fun making Sweet Rolls,” he suggested.

You raised a brow, inquiring silently about what exactly that was and he chuckled, but your explorative eyes still moved to every little detail on his face as he spoke and smiled.

He wondered what you saw. What would you discover about him? Could you see his imperfections? The scars from his previous life. Did you like what you saw? The freckles that he hated. Could you read the pain he feels? Or the love you rekindled? 

He dropped his stare to focus on the way he closed the slice of pie inside the box, hoping to hide himself from you. Only he could contain you in his gaze, because he already knew you were beautiful. He didn’t know what you’d think of him and he didn’t think he could bear it if you saw what he saw in the mirror: the opposite of everything that you were.

He grabbed another small box and stole the sweet roll from its warm home. The small confection looked like a miniature version of a Bundt cake, the white glaze poured over the sides looked too perfect to be real. Well, he chose the perfect one for you. He slid the box towards you and looked up to find your eyes still navigating his face. You averted your gaze and bit your lip, flustered. God, you were so cute. 

You clenched your small hands and placed them behind your back as you admired the sweet roll instead. He smirked at you, he would kiss you if it wouldn’t have freaked you out. How could someone be so beautiful and soft? You looked just like the sweet roll to him. 

“It looks like videogame sweet rolls,” you remarked and glanced up at him again. He would never tire of you. 

“Heh, I really liked how they looked, so I decided to make them.” He shrugged. You hummed, this time he watched you as you pondered and turned the sweet roll. You nodded in agreement.

“I like how they look, too, I’ll try it.” Dean smiled and closed the box, placing it next to the pie. You smoothed your hands against your jeans then rubbed your nails together as you watched him. 

“Want anything to drink?” He asked, anything to keep you around. 

Your eyes flickered up to the menu, your expression was thoughtful, so Dean allowed himself to be distracted by thoughts of you. 

At least you didn’t hate him. That was something, right? 

He still wondered how you felt about him and what you thought of him. How much did you like him? Did you think he was cute? Pretty? Did you want to see him again? Maybe outside of the bakery? Or did you just think he was nice and unintrusive? Just… ordinary. Not even friend material. Just the local baker. An acquaintance. 

“Just, uh… hazelnut coffee with creamer. Small. That’s okay?” Hmm, an unpretentious, but delicious coffee. Just like you. Effortlessly amazing. But why were you asking for affirmation?

“Yes,” he reassured you with a laugh. No matter how many times you became flustered, you were unwaveringly confident and brave. You glanced at the sewn word that spelled his name over his unbeating heart and his lips twitched into a wide smile.

He turned around to start making your drink despite longing to keep admiring you. At least he could feel you, your heat and your sweet air. He could hear you, your gentle breathing and your nervous heartbeat. And smell you, your expensive perfume and flowery shampoo. Even the sweet honey of your lotion. 

“Do you live near?” He asked, because… well, you didn’t think he was a creep, right? He looked over his shoulder and you contemplated him. Your eyes locked with his, he watched them soften and then you looked down at the boxes of sweets in front of you. 

“Smack in the middle of the forest,” you admitted. He hummed softly and put a lid on the cup of your hot coffee. Conveniently enough, you wouldn’t have too many neighbours. Maybe he could have a look around your place and not get caught. “It’s my childhood home,” you added methodically, he could sense you were editing parts of your story. He wanted the raw and dirty details, but whatever you wanted to give him was enough. “My mom moved away when we all left to start up our lives. My siblings prefer to live in cities, but my mom and I never did, so she left me the house. It wasn’t favouritism, just sentimentality.”

You were more like your mom, then. He wondered what she was like. What was her name? Did she look like you, too? Did you two talk at all? What was your relationship with her like? Were you like your father at all? What was he like? And what about your siblings? How many did you have? What were they like? What role did you play in your family? 

And why else did you like Kansas? It can’t just be about the forests. Did you like the people? The memories you made with your old friends in town? Did you like the locations? Where did you hang out the most before you left? He couldn’t ask you those questions now, they were too invasive. 

“And your dad?” Dean asked, scribbling your name with a loving smile on the cardboard sleeve. Why didn’t you say anything about him? 

Your silence didn’t go unnoticed. He frowned when he turned to see you and your distant eyes, the troubled pinch between your brows, and your pouty frown. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to pry,” he lied, he wanted to know everything about you. Were you like him? Cursed with daddy issues? 

You blinked and smiled tightly. No, please, let the light shine on him with your genuine smile. 

“No, it’s fine. My mom and dad got divorced…” He wanted to know more, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything that would make you frown. He smiled at you, hoping it would comfort you as he brought you your coffee. You struggled to maintain his gaze this time, but you must have felt something because you waited when you took the coffee from him. He could feel the warmth accumulate in your palms and he waited with you. “Do you… have you ever felt that you wanted to hate someone because they’re so horrible to you, but you just can’t? Like… sometimes you’re sure you hate them, but when you realise who you’re hating… it all just goes away and makes you feel awful?” 

Has he ever? Of course. He understands how much it hurts. He felt that way forever about his dad and his mom. Especially when he learned everything that he did about their past—thanks to the angels and the demons. He hated his dad, but he also respected him, and would even take a bullet for him. He even found that he hated his mom, but he also loved her to pieces. All at once. It’s enough to tear anyone apart inside. 

“Yeah, I think I know what you mean,” he murmured, it took everything in him not to reach out and caress your warm cheek. But it was as if he had, because you pressed your face into your shoulder in embarrassment, then you did a double-take at the cup of coffee. You seemed intrigued as you pressed your fingertips against the black ink that spelled your name on the cup sleeve in his neat, capitalised lettering.

He bit his lip and wondered impatiently what you were thinking of. Couldn’t you just spill your sweet words—completely uncalled for—like every other woman he came across? 

Instead he turned to the cash register and placed bogus numbers in because he really liked you. He lowered the prices for what you purchased and he was relieved that you didn’t question the cost when you tapped your phone against the screen to pay. You were gonna cost him more than he would have liked to admit to himself, but you were so worth the loss. 

He grabbed a paper bag and carefully placed the boxes inside for you. He wanted to give you his number. Would that throw you off? Would that scare you away? How can he be close to you without being so creepy and annoying?

“Thanks… Dean,” you exhaled softly. Dean’s stomach tightened and he struggled to keep himself from getting too visibly excited about his name sounding so dreamy and mellow blooming from between your pillowy lips. 

“No problem,” he whispered, his voice incapable of being as normal as he wanted to appear. He watched you pick everything up to leave and he dreaded that you’d have to go away to your own life. “Have a great evening, sweetheart.” You looked up at him, amused and delighted with something that he did. What was it? Tell him, so he could do it again, so he could see the light burst in your eyes like your stars had been born because he was the missing element needed to bring life into your universe. 

You breathed out a laugh, heat flooded your cheeks, and Dean felt triumphant. He didn’t know what made you smile the way you did, but at least he finally discovered what you had in your pocket when you took it out. You dropped a green bill folded into a small square straight into the tip jar he kept beside the register and he raised a brow curiously.

The countless bills and coins inside didn’t surprise him, but they appeared to interest you. People found him charming. They liked him. Women loved him. Did that mean the same thing to you? Did you like him? Or find him charming? Did you.. love him? 

“Thanks, you too,” you turned away after a short pause and Dean really couldn’t help his leery gaze once you had your back to him. You were so hot. Even from the back. 

He waited for you to leave before fishing the tip out of the box, he wanted to have it framed, he’d do anything to keep it as a reminder of you. He unfolded it and blinked in shock at the hundred-dollar bill. Then, he grinned boyishly, you definitely liked him.

-> an introduction to creative captivity

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[reveluving]

Girl tell me why I had a jdm dream where he asked me to do butt stuff w him and I said yeah and we enjoyed it a lot? 🤨

*sighing and taking out my card* 💳💥💳💥💳💥💳

sweet velvet ; jeffrey dean morgan characters x female reader

includes: s~mut obv (minors DNI!), bits of both soft & mean!doms & loads of possessive/lovestruck JDM chars!

a/n: I could never get this ask out of my head since, is all I can say to y'all hsjdhssk PLEASE, I can't thank you enough for feeding into my JDM thirst, and I encourage y'all reading this to do the same because I can never get enough of this man UGHHH and pls don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ❤️

fancy reading something new? check out my full m.list!

char. include: joe kessler (the boys), negan smith (twd), max (the resident '11), john winchester (supernatural, hear me out), ike evans (magic city), patrick sullivan (the accidental husband), & luke vaughn (heist 2015)!

smut includes: husband!jdm char., unprotected s~ex (p/fingers in v), size kink, plugs (on f!reader), spitting k~ink, cunnilingus & a~ss eating, stockings/heels, c~ckwarming, mirror k~ink, edging, mentions of overstimulation and sq~uirting. each and every one of them is just obsessed with you!!

If you thought his obsession over your height difference was ridiculous, think again because he could never get enough of your ass.

Regardless of your JDM men of choice, there is no doubt their obsession with your ass is unreal. Without a doubt that each and every one of them eats like it would be their last moments on earth. Loving the sloppy mess of both their spit and your juices, not only mixing and dribbling down their chin and facial hair, but especially down to your tight hole.

Negan, John, Kessler, and Max, the nastiest men in the bunch, would buy you one or more of those gem plugs because there has never been a more gorgeous sight than you writhing on top of them as they teasingly run the cool plug along your tight hole. All while condescendingly mirroring your parted lips while you’re desperately trying not to move so much upon their command, a creamy white ring now visible at the base. 

There is just something so bewitching about seeing a sex toy that is almost so innocent-looking being enough to have you clenching so hard around them.

Or they would have you on your back, flicking their tongue along your sopping lips before descending to the plug you’re gripping hard on. Licking around the gem and teasing your sensitive skin around it while holding your legs over their shoulders. 

Occasionally pulling the toy out just a little and seeing you pucker before pushing it back in with a groan that’ll send shivers down your spine.

Wrap your thighs around their head or roll your hips into their face all you want, being smothered by their pretty girl this way, to them, would be the best way to go there is.

Ike, the man of all things fancy, is all about romance. He adores building the tension up, standing behind you and running his hands up and down your sides, groaning as he gets a whiff of the tantalizing smell of your favourite perfume spritzed just behind your ear. If there’s music, he will sway to the sultry beat with you, reminding you like he does every day, how much of a lucky son of a gun he is to have you, and how much he needs you.

He wants you at your most comfortable, and he wants you to let it all out for him: no muffling, no shying away, and absolutely no hiding. If the entirety of Miami can marvel upon you like an angel on earth, then he, your dearest husband, can most certainly do the same, and way more, just like you deserve. 

Models or showgirls don’t even hold a candle to you when he can have you in just stockings and/or a garter belt with heels. While he loves you in both everything and nothing, but with just heels and stockings? Fuck, he doesn’t think even the strongest liquor could get him this drunk and enchanted as he is with you.

He knows that looming over you at the foot of the bed will have you squirming on your back already. Plus, missionary is only boring if you make it boring, not when Ike would hold your legs over his shoulder, barely concealing his dazed state for you by kissing your ankles, moving his hips with vigour to hear your moans peak at every thrust. 

Patrick, kinky as he is passionate, strives to incorporate both, especially for your pleasure. So what’s sexier than cockwarming and mirror sex? To be able to easily see both your eyes rolling back and the sight of himself buried inside you is the cherry on top, especially after a hard day’s work as a frontliner. 

He would hold you against him, the fine hairs on his chest tickling your back as he plants soft kisses along your neck. Infuriatingly reminding you to keep your eyes on the mirror, whether by a whisper or a subtle grip on your thighs, knowing it gets you more bratty and impatient by the second. 

If Patrick is a little more on the passionate side, then Luke falls more on the kinky end. He yearns for you 24/7 and it amplifies when he is either stressed or when he sees you bond with his daughter so well. 

Whether you're standing chest to chest with his hands cupping your cheeks or holding you to his side as an act of protection, his hand is on the small of your back and lingering just inches away from your rear. The fact that physical touch, being one of, if not, his most major love language is definitely a sign.

Similar to the first three, Luke will not be able to stop smiling ever so smugly whenever you jerk and squirm, hoping he'd spare you the relentless teasing, and once he does, he would lick a stripe along your pussy and nipping at your clit between his lips while prodding his middle finger at that very spot.

Sloppy and desperate to make you cum on his tongue while pushes another finger into you, smiling against your back arches so beautifully.

a/n: how many jdmorgan characters did I want in this, you may ask? yes! and this is me holding back! ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[naughtystiel]

DEANCAS AU FIC REC MASTERPOST II

Here's another list of fics that I've read! They're all amazing, but the first two? They hold a special place in my heart because of how tender they are. If you decide to read them - prepare for an emotional rollercoaster.

You can check out the previous fic rec list here.

Happy reading! ♡

Restless wanderer

Just west of the town Porthgwarra, Cornwall, Robert Singer’s farm lies, a mess of ravaged land gaping out onto a fretting sea. Robert's orphaned godson, Dean Winchester, is named sole beneficiary of the farm - and though he hasn't seen his godfather in fifteen years, he travels across the Atlantic with his brother and half brother to care for Singer in his old age and tend to the farm. All of them hope to leave behind the squalor and famine of their old life.

What Dean meets is the bird-infested home of a widowed eccentric, and a new shepherd whom he can neither stand nor see any use for - stoic, rude and conceited, Dean plans to fire the mysterious and wandering Mr Novak the moment he comes into legal possession of the farm. But upon the shepherd's offer to teach him the trade, in anticipation of Dean replacing the man himself, Dean finds in the wild and roaming man a steadiness and certainty his own life has never yet contained. And one day Dean will have to ask, not tell, the shepherd to stay.

Down by the water

AU, set in 1853 — When Castiel loses everything dear to him due to a botched river crossing, including his supplies, livestock, covered wagon, and even his wife, he has no where to turn, no way to survive stranded in the middle of his journey. That is, until he meets Dean Winchester, who offers him a life saving deal: in exchange for help on his farm, Dean offers to provide much needed room and board. But how will this decision affect Castiel as he moves through his grief, and discovers feelings he never would have expected? Fighting with injury, pain, grief, and even the threat of death, Dean and Castiel find themselves in the one place they would have never expected: down by the water, struggling to accept their unforeseen love.

Dark side of the moon

Five months into his six month mission, an accident leaves Flight Engineer Dean Winchester stranded on the moon. It comes down to a man he has never met to bring him home.

Angel in the iron mask

Finally free of his actual shackles, Castiel finds himself in a situation a lot worse than being locked in the dungeon with an iron mask to conceal his face. The intrigues of the court will make his head ache, but it would all be worth it if he could just find a way to save the omega that had been enslaved to him.

Protect and serve

Sam Winchester is America's newest sweetheart. An in-demand actor and all around Boy Next Door. However, with his fame comes the need for protection. And Sam only trusts his older brother, and former beat cop, Dean, plus his best friend, Castiel Novak, to keep him safe. However, Castiel and Dean share not only a desire to keep Sam safe, but also a lot of friction between them. In an attempt to smooth the edges, Sam pleads with them to find a way to make things work. Castiel thinks Dean needs discipline. Dean thinks Castiel needs to lighten up. Together, they discover a lot more about each other than anticipated.

Playing with fire

When two best friends foray into a supposedly no-strings sexual relationship, someone is bound to catch feelings, someone is bound to fuck up, and someone is bound to beg for forgiveness; because that’s the recipe for a romantic comedy.

But life is not a romantic comedy, no matter how much Dean Winchester secretly wishes it was.

Instead, we present: Boy finds out boy, who has been his best friend for over twenty years, is secretly a Dom. Boy then sorta tricks boy into taking him on as his new sub. Boy discovers a side of himself he never knew existed. Boy is in way over his head.

Quarantension

In which Dean and Cas weather quarantine together like any Good Friends would — by developing outstanding skills in self-deception and providing all the casual affection and strictly platonic* orgasms the other could possibly need to make it through.**

 

*Really not platonic

**Spoiler: They need a lot.

Expectations

For centuries, the Winchester princes have taken omegas from the northern town of New Eden to bear the royal heirs before exiling them to the countryside - a punishment for a past dispute caused by the town's strict beliefs. When Prince John marries Lady Mary of Campbell and puts a Queen on the throne, however, most people assume the tradition has been set aside.

Thus, it's a complete surprise to Dean when he's sent to New Eden to retrieve the girl they've arranged for.

Cas, as a male omega in backward New Eden, has been ostracized and condemned by his town since he presented. To make matters worse? His sister is being given away to the crown prince of Winchester, never to return.

But when the morning before the prince's arrival dawns and Anna is nowhere to be found, the town's council decides there’s only one thing for it:

They’ll simply have to give him Cas instead.

It's the end of the world (as we know it)

The year is 1996, and Dean’s stuck in Kankakee, Illinois while Dad’s on a long-haul hunt. It’s not too bad. He’s even got a friend, now—even if Cas is a weird, gawky loner kid who gets way too intense about his sci-fi novels and doesn’t know how to stop staring. Just business as usual.

Until his dad comes back, and it isn’t.

The year is 2011, and the shadows known as ‘angels’ and ‘demons’ are falling from cracks in the sky, raining death, destruction, and monsters where they pass. When the Joint Task Force asks for their help in stopping the end of the world—John Winchester, his sons, and a ragtag band of hunters—well, that’s just business as usual, too.

Until Dean meets the cold blue eyes of their team liaison—Dr. Castiel Novak.

The meaning on my skin

Castiel Novak never wanted to be a Dominant. Living with the mark on his skin that designates him as one has haunted him every day of his life, and he goes to great lengths to avoid the part of his biology that he hates. When he makes the decision to get a tattoo with the intent of hiding his mark away, he meets Dean Winchester: tattoo artist and confident submissive.

Dean turns Castiel’s world upside down and subverts every expectation Castiel ever had about himself and his designation. Will Dean be able to teach him how to be comfortable in his own skin?

Roll with it

For two years, Dean’s been slaving away beneath his boss – many label him a secretary, but he fucking hates that and feels like it only applies to someone wearing a pencil skirt, so he insists on his title of Executive Assistant. And for what? In the vain hope that one day he’ll manage to become an editor for Sandover Publishing, and that he’ll see the manuscript that he’s slaved over since college finally realized in print.

That’s the dream, anyway.

Right now, he’s fucking late.

Dean wants to be an editor. Castiel just wants to stay in the country.

‘The Proposal’ – as you’ve never seen it before.

Stay in my arms (if you dare)

Grammy award-winning singer/actor Dean Winchester is on top of the world. His latest role has him tipped for an Oscar nomination and his life is damn good, thank you very much. That all comes crashing down after a series of death threats forces his manager, Bobby Singer, to hire a bodyguard. Bobby knows just the man for the job. Castiel Krushnic, former CIA field agent and the only person Bobby would trust to protect Dean.

Tensions are high and personalities clash from the first meeting, with Dean unwilling to change his lifestyle and Cas just wanting to do the job in peace. A series of events turns the pair into reluctant friends while both try to ignore their growing attraction for each other.

Dream house

Castiel Shurley and his best friend Dorothy Baum have decided to move in together. After his aunt assumes they are dating, she offers them money for the house, but only if they apply for a famous reality show ‘Dream House’. Since they could use the money and he doesn’t want to come out to his aunt, Castiel and Dorothy agree to fake date for the show. But things go wrong when Dorothy falls in love with the show’s producer and Castiel starts to develop feelings for one of the hosts.

Dean Winchester is a co-host of ‘Dream House’, along with his brother. Sam, being a realtor, finds a fixer-upper and Dean turns it into a perfect house for their clients. Even though he has what most people only dream about, Dean is incredibly lonely. He had bad experiences with relationships in the past and he doesn’t think he will ever meet anyone who can earn his trust. Until he meets Castiel.

I'll be good

Dean has always been the good guy. He made the hard decisions and rose to the occasion whenever his family needed him. He became a parent way too soon after the deaths of John and Mary Winchester along with Sam’s big oops moment. Resettling his entire life to Beaufort, NC for the sake of those he loves the most.

Now at 25 an opportunity to finally be good to himself has been delivered in the form of one gorgeous Castiel Novak. The new arrival to town is the worst driver Dean has ever seen. As the eldest Winchester strives to overcome several bumps along the road of life can he also help Cas to steer towards a happily ever after with him or will Novak’s turbulent past cause them to crash and burn?

In other words a BDSM love story.

Shatter me

Dean Winchester started his day in seven easy steps.

Step one: Survive attack from a giant drool monster

Step two: Shower and shave

Step three: Suck down a cup of coffee while walking the drool monster to her favorite tree

Step four: Feed and water the drool monster

Step five: Have a balanced breakfast of microwaved egos, six medications, and two more cups of coffee

Step six: Check his email and schedule for the day

Step seven: Pack the pup and himself a hearty lunch and leave for work

In none of these steps did it say: meet your soul mate, hate them on sight and cause bodily harm…. and yet.

Crashing in

Castiel Novak is convinced he’s the last unwillingly single person in Lupine Cove. Even Gabriel, his perpetual bachelor brother, has found love. It’s probably because Cas leads the most boring life in existence. He’s a gay man living in a rented, one-room cottage in the same small coastal town he grew up in, just getting by as the owner of the same convenience store he was practically raised in. The most excitement he gets is chatting with the locals or maybe, if he’s unlucky, oversleeping and rushing to work. So when a baby is left at the Safe Haven drop-off at the local fire station, he takes the opportunity to step in for the child temporarily, at least until suitable parents, plural, can be found.

Life certainly gets more interesting.

And it gets even more interesting when a handsome man comes crashing—literally—into his life.

Partnered

Dean didn't think that his life as a detective could get much worse after Castiel was promoted to lieutenant.

Castiel was a stickler for the rules, had no sense of humour, and never seemed to give Dean a break, even though they used to be partners.

But then, despite all of their questionable history, the two are asked to go undercover on a case in the wealthy suburbs of California. . . as a married couple.

Lead by your beating heart

After a night of celebrating (heavy drinking) with his brother surgical intern Dean Winchester discovers that his resident, talented Cardio surgeon Castiel Novak, is...well a huge douche bag...kind of hot but still a huge douche bag. A douche bag that he's stuck with for the rest of the year, that's if he survives the year without Castiel killing him and making it look like an accident. So why is it that an easy friendship forms between the two men that swiftly becomes something Dean never expected to find when he moved to Chicago.

Bold will hold

All Dean Winchester wants is to open his own tattoo shop, which is why he signs up for Tattoo Gods, a tattooing reality show with a $100,000 grand prize. He also wants to avoid making an ass of himself on national TV, and he definitely wants to avoid falling for Cas Novak, another artist who’s not only his direct competitor, but someone he’s had an unspoken rivalry with since before he started apprenticing, and is just as ridiculously talented as he is stunning (and, as Dean comes to find out, kind and funny and passionate and sincere). Is that too much to ask?

Apparently, yes. Yes, it is.

Breathing into you

‘Beware the deep sea, that’s where the monsters come from.’ Dean had heard these words since birth, his father’s warnings shaping him into the man he is today.

That’s not the root of Dean’s hatred for merpeople, though. Twenty years after the day tragedy had touched the Winchesters’ lives forever as well as the end of the Great War between humans and mer, Dean is still haunted by that moment. But loving the sea is just as much a part of him as the dread for the merfolk, so when he isn’t working at the local bar, he is there, underwater, immersed in the vast blue his mother used to speak of in her bedtime stories.

Dean knows, however, that the sea can be as ruthless as it is soothing. When he is caught in the middle of a storm and faces the anger of the waves, the mysterious appearance of a stranger with blue eyes as clear as the waters Dean loves losing himself in forces Dean to question the truth behind his father’s old mantra.

Hot water

Castiel hated public showers.

In which Castiel is forced to use the company shower after hours and ends up doing unspeakable things he never thought himself capable of...

AU-fic containing mystery attractions and a lot of hot water.

I can make you scared

So this is how it goes. Best day of Dean Winchester’s life. Loses his job, finds out he’s been cheated on, gets dumped, all in the course of one fucked up Thursday. Drinking himself into oblivion is the natural response, right? A chance encounter in a dingy dive bar gives Dean a new friend who sees his problems and likes him anyway. Now, as Dean struggles to pick up the pieces of his life, Castiel just might help him put them back together in a way he never expected.

Fear of falling (apart)

In a world where D/s relationships are the norm and Chicago is caught up in a three-way mob war, Russian mob boss Castiel Krushnic makes John Winchester an offer he can't refuse: one that will make Dean Winchester his own.

Cuffed to an angel

Dean Winchester has a lot going for him: he's beloved by his students, he's finished writing his first book, and he's living comfortably in New York City. The only problem is... he's single. That wouldn't bother him much if his family wouldn't be visiting for the holidays. With cuffing season over, Dean has to face his family alone... or will he?

Castiel DiAngelo is a simple detective who hasn't really celebrated Christmas in over 9 years, holidays and family being a sore spot for him. But after taking Dean up on an offer, he finds that you can't really avoid the holidays.

Will these two be able to pull off a seminal holiday trope? Or will certain developments get in the way...

(don't) stop texting me

Castiel Novak is relatively happy living his solitary life as a Starbucks Barista. He lives alone with a cat named Hamburger, and he has one (1) emotional support friend, Gabriel.

Unfortunately, he is plagued by the fact that some guy (see: a random hot dude named 'Dean') is giving out Castiel's phone number as his own. And he's been doing it for months.

So, of course, when Castiel's at work and a hot stranger gives him his own phone number for the Starbucks Rewards Program... well... it doesn't go well.

Sweet boy

NOTE - nothing sexual happens between them until Dean's 18

Dean's sixteen when he meets John's well-to-do boss, Castiel Novak, and he's quick to develop a crush during a time where he's only begun to discover his preferences. He dates the beautiful Lisa and practically raises his younger brother Sam, because it's what John expects. But Castiel appears to see Dean in a way no one else does, and despite him knowing there's no way anything can happen between them, he relishes in the idea that Castiel cares at all for his well-being.

Between mounting pressures from a teenage Sam that no longer wants a caretaker, John's nudging for Dean to follow a career path he doesn't want, and a mysterious check for the exact amount of one semester at the school Dean had been eyeing, Dean finds himself reconnecting with Castiel.

And Castiel has a very interesting proposition for him.

Down time

It’s been said that Dean Winchester is a bit uptight but in his opinion being focused on producing quality work is nothing to be ashamed of. He would grudgingly admit he tends to get too worried about his work and schedule and that it’s beginning to wear him down. In a fit of work induced exhaustion, he decides to indulge in a deeply buried desire of his…

[winchester-girl67]

Raven Eyes

Summary: Half-Demon and half-angel, the reader struggles to control her outbursts of anger. Until she meets someone who makes her blood boil in a whole other way. She searches for her half-sister, Claire, with the help of the Winchester brothers and finds that, maybe, being human isn't all bad.

Requested by @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld : “Hey can i request a Dean or Sam Winchester x reader where the reader is a Nephalem (half angel half demon) and super powerful because Nephalem are the most powerful hybrid and Dean or Sam fall in loved with her because she is so sweet, shy, etc and in the end they end together? With smut is you want to added"

Pairing: Dean x Nephalem!reader 

Word Count: 11,913

Rating: mature 18+ MDNI

Warnings: not canon, language, mature themes, reverse age gap (kind of), violence/blood (gun, biting, restraints - Claire is tied to a chair), smut (p in v, unprotected sex), brief mention of body insecurity, injury, nightmares, maybe some anger control issues, angst, a little pining, kissing/cuddling, reader has one defining characteristic (raven eyes), star wars trilogy spoilers? (brief mention), mention of Sam and Dean slash fiction

A/N: This really got away from me, especially the word count, lol. The reader has both sweet/shy moments and bold/sassy ones; but I thought it was a good mix of energy for an angel/demon hybrid. Enjoy!

_____

Ugh...

You kicked the empty can under your foot down the dark alleyway. It landed in a puddle with a splash and you growled and kicked the glass bottle next. It shattered against the brick wall at the dead end, scattering into a myriad of pieces that rippled the top of the same puddle. 

Finally, that felt great. 

You just needed to break something. So, you did it again, lining up the next beer bottle. This one, full and unopened. You'd brought it outside with you from the bar you were currently venting behind. 

Alcohol did little to nothing for you, you were pretty sure the only buzz you ever got off it could be chalked up to a placebo effect. 

The bottle hit the wall, popped, and fizzed as it streamed down the bricks. The amber liquid staining a trail to the pavement below. It was somewhat satisfying, but... you wanted to break more shit. 

So much more. 

It was the demon’s blood in you, the urge to create chaos and torment just for fun. Although, ninety percent of the time it lost out to the half of you that was part angel. 

You didn't want to be evil and you didn't want to be good. You were all shades of grey and that was fine because you knew exactly who you were. Sort of. 

You were a Nephalem; half-demon, half-angel. 

Yeah, your parents were a piece of work. Try growing up in that household. Literal definition of having an angel on one shoulder and a devil -or in this case, a demon- on the other. 

But opposites attract, right. 

You never really fit in. As a child or now as an adult. Not with your father's angelic colleagues or your mother's demonic friends. You were one of a kind. 

'Unique. Unlike any other.' Your father would tell you.

'Powerful. A force to be reckoned with.' Your mother would say.

You loved them, your parents. Even if they drove you nutty and pulled at your limbs like some savage game of tug-o-war. Castiel and Meg had good intentions but you needed to stand on your own two feet for the first time.

So, here you were hanging out in the back alley of some highway dive off to the side of some two-star motel. Popping the cork on your own internal bottle of frustrations. The blood in your veins could only be shaken so much before you lost control and that was the point of breaking shit.

To calm your nerves and it usually worked, but not tonight. Tonight was different.

Your -sort of- half-sister, Claire, called you up for some help on a case she was working on. Fucking werewolves. She needed back up but when you arrived you couldn't find her. Anywhere!

When you asked the greasy bartender if he'd seen her and showed him her picture on your phone, all he said was 'I wish I had, damn'. Then he proceeded to shake out his hand as if he'd touched something hot and made a crude face with a little wink added in your direction... you almost ripped his face off right there, but there were too many witnesses.

A waitress flirting with some guy with more hair than a barbie doll and some guys playing pool; one of them obviously hustling the others. He was kinda cute actually -had a nice smile, short dirty-blonde hair and a scruff on his jaw that was way too trimmed to be natural- but you weren't here for that.

You had to find Claire.

You fisted your hands until your fingernails dug into your palms and bleed. Then hissed and watched the skin stitch itself back together under the orange flood lights of the alleyway.

That helped a little. The pain. You did it again, satisfying the demon within and hissing out a breath at the sharp sting each nail made as they buried into your flesh. Then. You breathed in and out like your father taught you. Slow and steady.

Inhale: one, two, three... Exhale: one, two, three...

Then repeat as many times as it takes to appease the angelic grace entwined within your soul.

When your blood was at war it felt like the epic internal battle of a Jedi struggling with the force -you had forced your father, Cas, to watch the recent Star Wars trilogy with you a couple of days before you left to meet Claire and really connected to the Kylo Ren/Ben Solo character and his dilemma of whether to embrace the pull to the light or give into the dark side- but a nephalem didn't have that choice. The only solution was to embrace it all, whatever murky shade of grey that turned out to be. But there were times you still struggled with it, times you wished you had more control over your heart and mind.

Times like now with that fucking bartender. Who even has frosted tips anymore, seriously?! What a douche.

He knew something and he wasn't telling you, you could hear his heart beat just a fraction quicker when he lied.

You let out a frustrated howl and kicked at the puddle, splashing and jumping until your boots and pant legs were soaked. You growled and fisted your hair in your hands and pulled. Frustrated to no end.

"Now that's a losing battle, if I ever did see one." Said a husky voice and you spun around to nothing but shadows behind you at the mouth of the alley.

What? "Who said that?"

"Don't get me wrong, that was entertaining as hell but that puddle's always going to be a puddle." A man stepped out of the shadows with a twisted smirk. "Unless you have the right tools... Maybe a mop and bucket." Oh, he thinks he's funny. You didn't laugh, you glared and he stepped directly under the flood light near the rear door. He pumped his eyebrows once and rubbed the trimmed scruff on his chin. "Geez, tough crowd. Why you so pissy, squirt?"

"Fuck off." Your guard was up.

"Big language for such a little girl. You're trouble, aren't you?" He said with a deep laugh. He fucking laughed. And took a step closer when you didn't respond. "You kiss your momma with that mouth?"

"My mother would rip you to shreds just for sneaking up on me."

Seriously, how'd he do that? You were usually hyper aware of your surroundings... but you were also in your head, duelling it out.

He looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on your wet jeans sticking to your calves. His tongue teased his bottom lip and he met your stare again. You scowled knowing exactly what he was thinking and crossed your arms in front of your chest to obstruct his view.

"You got some fire in you, squirt."

Screw you, pretty boy.

"Call me, squirt, one more time. I. Dare. You." You said through clenched teeth and stepped out of the puddle, bringing you chest to chest with this man.

Okay, maybe chest to chin -you still had to look up at him- but you weren't as small as he made you sound, at least you didn't think so. But one thing was for sure, you were a lot older than you looked, probably older than him... but you were kind of immortal too, so there was that.

You looked near the same age though, for what it's worth, and you felt young. Out from under your parents' -hypothetical for the most part- wing for the first time. No more babysitter.

He looked amused, "Okay, little trouble. Wanna tell me what's got your feathers in a fluff?"

"The hell do you care?"

His expression turned emotionless like a poker face, "Maybe I don't." Then he smiled, "Or maybe, I do."

You knew where you'd seen him before now, playing pool inside, "How'd you do with your little side hustle?"

"Oh, I cleaned up," he smirked, he saw you watching him inside. "I'm Dean, by the way... Winchester. And you are?" He asked, keeping his arms crossed against his chest and mirroring you.

"Leaving," you said quietly and unintentionally shoving your shoulder into his as you walked for the exit of the alley.

Fucking Dean Winchester. You knew exactly who he was, you just didn't know what he looked like, until now. Your father warned you to stay away. Said he was the type to shoot first and ask questions later and if he found out you were a nephalem, that's exactly what he'd do.

"Hold up a second, squirt." He called as he jogged after you and grabbed your arm.

Dean yanked you back and you spun around, twisting out of his hold. You smacked him in the chest and he shoved back into the brick wall. Hard. You always forget how fragile humans were, you didn't spend much time with them after all.

He huffed like the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. His eyes wide and watching you. Yeah, you were strong as hell and that was only ten percent. You felt a little bad for the poor guy but he did ask for it. You clearly wanted to be left alone.

"I told you not to call me that!" You growled, pointing your finger in his face. "I don't have time for this."

"Why? Got some mailboxes to knock over?" He teased and rubbed his chest when you backed off. "Oh, please tell me you're gonna spray paint obscene doodles on the billboard across the street... I'll help. Need a lookout?"

If he was flirting, it wasn't landing and if he was teasing, it was pissing you off. You weren't some teenager tagging billboards, even if that jackass CEO, Dick Roman, deserved it. You didn't know why, you just didn't like him or his cheesy smile, but he'd get his, they usually do. 

"What do you want?" You huffed at him, glancing down at his hands just in case. 

You heard the stories of the Winchester brothers. They weren't opposed to sucker punches, especially with an angel blade. Even if an angel blade could hardly hurt you, your mother trained you to always be prepared, vigilant.

"You were asking around about a blonde girl, Claire Novak, I'm a friend of hers. Actually, more like a big brother and I haven't been able to reach her." He confessed and took a step forward, then another and another until you were the one backed up against the opposite wall of the alleyway. "What do you want with her?"

For a human, you had to admit, he was fucking intimidating. His eyes hooded, nostrils flared and you felt his hand fist the collar of your t-shirt. You could easily push him off if you wanted but the brush of his knuckles over your collarbone made your knees knock together and you practically swallowed your tongue.

The feuding blood in your veins quieted as your heart beat a little faster and sweat broke out across your skin. Your lips fell open and you just stared up at him. At a loss for words.

Was this what it was like to feel... human? Desire? Vulnerability?

But you weren't vulnerable, not physically, your power outmatched that of a nephilim. Nephilim had the inconvenience of having to be half-human where that half of you was all demon. Pure darkness and indignation.

Being a nephalem wasn't easy. Especially being the only one ever known to exist. You had to carve your own path.

You had a conscience about the bad things you did and a will to do good, but nothing was ever that simple. You'd do a good deed to appease the angel grace pumping in your veins but it would always turn out sideways. And when you did something bad -perhaps out of selfishness and greed- you'd feel bad.

Demons had it easy. Do what you want, when you want. Angels had it even better though, their good always turned out good. Despite the fact that not all angels were all that good and not all demons were all bad.

If they couldn't figure it out with one blood line, how would you?

You felt like you were constantly at battle with yourself. But, at least, you weren't human.

Compared to the man in front of you, he was like a fly. A gnat. And you'd toy with him for a bit if he could keep making you feel this way.

Calm.

The crimson waters in your veins were quiet -for the first time in sooo long- and all you had to do was look into his eyes. They were hooded in the darkness of the night but you felt it, his soul staring back at you. You often wondered if you had a soul.

Probably, everything else seemed to have one.

Perhaps, not everything about being human was terrible. It beat the hell out of the internal anguish, always fighting with yourself, always angry. And suddenly you never wanted Dean to leave. Even if your father did warn you about him.

Maybe humans were powerful after all. Maybe, it was just this one human.

You grabbed his wrist above his watch -his fist still clutching your collar- and exhaled over his lips, only an inch away from yours. His breathing turned sharp too and you smelt whiskey on his breath. Peach whiskey. You gave him a cheeky smile.

That was a chick's drink.

"Why are you looking for Claire?" He repeated, his eyes somehow darker in the shadow of the night.

"She's my friend," you lied, continuing to pretend he had you right where he wanted you.

It was really the other way around.

"You're friends?"

You nodded, "Yeah, some people have those."

You kind of wished Castiel had told Dean about you. It wouldn't come as such a surprise then. Maybe you could hide it, though, and tag along to find your sister. It could be fun to watch the brothers in action. Plus, everything was so quiet around him. Even in his intensity and you didn't want it to stop.

"Claire doesn't have friends." He stated.

"She has at least one."

He didn't need to know that you were kind of related to Claire, just that you didn't mean her any harm. Most of the time. Sometimes she pissed you off and sometimes you pissed her off.

"Wait, friend as in 'friend'?" He said as if he used air quotes but he didn't let go of your shirt collar to actually make them.

What the hell else did 'friend' mean? -Ohhhh... good for Claire. But gross, she was your sister. You had flashbacks to reading fanfics of Sam-slash-Dean online. Your father told you to stay away, but you were curious and although it may not have proven for the most serious intel on the boys, the stories were captivating. 

You scrunched up your face and stared at him. You couldn't tell him you were sisters. So, you just shook your head.

Dean laughed, "Huh, didn't know that kid could stop pissing people off for a second long enough to make a friend."

You nodded but frowned when he released your shirt collar and took away his hand. If you had wanted him to back off, you would've made him. You kept a hold of his wrist.

"Let go, little devil."

If only he knew how ironic that nickname was. You were the daughter of a demon not Lucifer but, same diff; it was close enough.

You let him go. You didn't want to, but you did.

"Do you know where she is?" You asked, both wanting to keep the conversation going and needing the answer.

"Nope. Was hoping you did."

"The bartender knows something." You mumbled.

You breathed a heavy breath, letting the anger from before defuse a little as it tried to resurface. No losing control this time. Your parents weren't here to help you this time. No cleaning up any messes. You were on your own. Like you wanted.

"Let's go talk to him, then." Dean grinned and patted your shoulder.

His hand slid down to the small of your back as he led you back around to the entrance of the bar. Every ounce of anger flushed away with his touch and you no longer felt that inch of demon blood in your veins.

_____

Dean wiped the blood from his knuckles with a rag from the trunk of a shiny black muscle car parked in the lot. You stood next to him and watched stoically as he did so. He glanced up at you and mistook your awe for fear.

"I'm sorry. I should've warned you when someone messes with my family, I get-" He started in a soft voice but cut himself off before he could finish. "Just sometimes, things get... messy."

Messy?! He beat the ever-loving hell out of that bartender when the guy hit on you again and evaded all your questions... Until he didn't.

Dean was just as fucked up as you were. He was angry and at war with himself, constantly, you could see it. You saw that look in the mirror all the time. He took the bloodiest route to being good. He was all shades of grey, just like you. And you had to admire how much he cared about the people he thought of as family.

"Don't ever let a man disrespect you like that." He locked eyes with you.

Something different in his gaze this time. Warmer and intense. Too intense, you had to look away.

You never did let guys get away with it, but you couldn't exactly go all super-girl on the bartender's ass either with Dean watching, now could you? Super-girl was a hero, though... You weren't the villain but you weren't the heroine either. Maybe an anti-hero, actually? Like Ben Solo? You could live with that.

"So, what now?" You asked, sitting on the edge of the open trunk next to him. "We go to this Haden-guy's cabin in the woods? Sounds like a trap."

The bartender said Claire had her eye on some regular guy all night but never talked to him. Though, she did leave right after he did. That was the only lead we had since this shit-hole had no working security cameras.

"Exactly, that's why we're gonna get Sammy first." He said, tossing the bloody rag into the trunk and securing the hidden hatch shut after pulling out a case of silver bullets.

Sammy, his little brother, you knew as much about the boys as every other demon or angel. You just didn't know how being around Dean would affect you.

"Where's Sam?"

Dean gave you a half smirk and a little shrug of his shoulders, then he winked at you. And what the hell did that mean?

Oh wait, you suddenly remembered seeing a walking L'oreal-ad-of-a-man, matching Sam's description, flirting with the waitress before stomping out to the back alley to have your little temper tantrum like a child. You blew off steam though without hurting anyone so you weren't embarrassed. That was a win in your book.

"I'll go get him, you wait here." Dean said, cocking his freshly loaded gun with silver bullets and tucking it into the back of his jeans. "Don't disappear on me, little devil."

You smiled, actually starting to like that nickname as you watched him walk towards the motel across the parking lot. He knocked on room number sixteen and waited a long moment before he pounded harder on it.

You stretched out your legs and pushed up from the edge of the trunk but something kept your ass in place. Like you were frozen, sort of, you could only move further into the trunk.

Something was wrong.

You glanced back quickly before Dean could notice you struggling to stand up like an ordinary human. You twisted in your seat but there was nothing unusual in the trunk, then you looked up at the lid.

Fucking hell.

There was a demon trap on the upside of the trunk lid. You glanced back at Dean who was now striding back towards you on bowed legs.

Shit. You twisted your arm above you and scratched at the edge of the trap. Glad that the front of the car was facing Dean instead of the back. 

"He'll be out in a minute," Dean said, rounding the back of the Impala just as you snapped up from your seat and slammed the lid shut. He narrowed his eyes on you, "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, peachy." You dusted off the back of your black skinny jeans ungracefully.

"O-kay," he stared at you for a moment as you shifted from heel to heel, "Get in the car."

You walked around to his side of the car, knowing Sam probably had dibs on the passenger seat and opened the rear door. You hesitated and looked inside, checking for more demon traps.

"Something wrong?" Dean asked and you noted Sam exiting the motel room, he walked towards you as he buttoned up his blue flannel and straightened his jeans. "Don't tell me you're scared?"

"Hardly," you said unconvincingly and crawled into the backseat when you didn't see any reason not to.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, Baby here is stocked up like a tank, we can take whatever's waiting for us. Trust me."

He was cocky, wasn't he, but it made you laugh. He had even more artillery than he thought, with you around.

Dean shut the door behind you and dumped himself into the driver's seat, Sam joining only moments later.

"Uh, hi?" Sam said to you, half turned in his seat.

"Hi," you waved shyly.

He was a lot bigger in person. The top of his head nearly hit the roof and his hair was gorgeous and thick. You played with the ends of your hair, wishing you had less split ends. Maybe you should cut it. Also, what kind of all powerful nephalem still gets split ends?! Talk about unfair.

"She's a friend of Claire's." Dean said, revving up the engine and peeling off down the road.

You didn't know how he knew where he was going. You didn't look at any maps with him. Maybe they'd been here longer than you and already surveyed the area? Claire probably called them too, you didn't have a cell phone and relied on her praying to you when she needed you. She didn't always trust you'd show up and she wouldn't have told them about you.

"Does 'the friend of Claire's' have a name?"

Sam asked his brother and side eyed you.

"Yeah, of course she does."

"And?" Sam inquired.

Dean hesitated and chewed his lip as he glanced at you in the rearview mirror. He never asked. "What's your name, little devil?"

Sam screwed up his face and mouthed 'little devil' dubiously to himself. You guessed it wasn't a typical nickname he gave women.

"Y/N."

You didn't give a last name. You supposed you didn't really have one. Castiel and Meg could never settle on one long enough.

"Y/N," Dean repeated in his deep voice. It felt like wings in your stomach to hear him say your name. "You don't look like a Y/N."

"Well, it's the only name I got." You snapped, a little hurt. You liked your name, it was the only thing your parents ever truly agreed on.

Dean chuckled and glanced back in the mirror again. "You’re cute when you're frustrated, Y/N."

The dork was teasing you. He either thought he was funny or flirting, you couldn't tell which. Maybe both, you didn't like it. It was new territory for you. You didn't often bother with humans, but Dean was different. He was a lot like you in many ways and he was -mostly- adorable. When he wasn't intentionally trying to be annoying. 

You blushed -first time that ever happened- and kept quiet for the rest of the drive. Dean explained to Sam what you were about to walk in on and they already seemed to know it was werewolves so you didn't bother to pipe up.

The woods were dark and the sound of wind eerily howled through the treetops. You'd have shivered if you were scared at all but you couldn't be harmed, not really. Someone would really have to get the drop on you for that to happen. And what else was there to be scared of?

You only worried about Dean. It was nice having him around. You realized now why your father liked him so much. You didn't know Sam all that well, though and he kept giving you ‘off’ glances as if he was trying to figure you out. As if he knew you were hiding something.

Barbie doll was too smart for his own good.

"Here, take this?" Dean said, shoving a silver gun in your hands after he'd parked down the road from Haden's cabin.

"Uh-" you held it between your forefinger and thumb, as if you really didn't want to hold it. You never used a gun before. You never had to and you rather not. "I'm good, thanks."

You tried to hand it back to him before it went off. As if it was that touchy. He just stared at you confused.

"You need something to defend yourself. You have done this before, right? Hunting? You're a hunter?"

"Yeah, totally!" You over sold it.

Sure, you hunted before, but you used your powers and let’s face it, nothing was ever a challenge. Even a pack of werewolves couldn't take you. You could fight and hold your own but you never needed a gun.

But how could you tell Dean that?

You stared at the gun, still holding it in the air between you and he sighed, "Here, hold it like this."

Dean stalked behind you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You felt his chest on your back and you leaned back into him. Looking over your shoulder at his face next to yours. He let out a single puff of air, amused, and turned your head forward again with his hand on your chin.

His scruff brushed your cheek as he lined up the gun in both of your hands in front of you. You smelt sweet peaches on his breath again and melted in his arms as much as you could without him really noticing.

"Finger off the trigger. This hand-" he grabbed your non-dominant hand and wrapped it around the other already gripping the gun, "-goes here. Keep your thumb there." He pointed to the switch next to your thumb, "Safety's on," he switched it off, revealing a red dot in its place, "Off. Line up this point with this one." He pointed out the sights of the gun. "Never point it at anyone you don't plan on shooting. Got it?" 

"Got it," you breathed. 

Dean switched the safety back on and let you get used to the feel of it in your hands. You could use this hunk of metal one time, you guessed. 

If a human could then why not? You were superior in every way. Super-powered anti-hero in human disguise to the rescue! 

It was quiet outside in the woods as you inched towards the cabin. And before you knew it, you were inside searching for signs of Claire when you heard the boys bashing around in the other room. Grunting and smashing into things. Glass breaking and shots firing.

You had split up and with no sign of Claire you made your way back to them to help out. Finding Dean pinned by three werewolves while Sam fought off one with another on his back trying desperately to bite his neck.

The pack was bigger than the boys anticipated. And brawling. 

You didn't expect aiming the gun to be so difficult and after missing the first couple shots -hitting the drywall in front of Sam and scaring the shit out of him, which he showed with a glare in your direction and a shout of 'Stop helping!'- you aimed again. At the werewolf on Sam's back and shut your eyes.

You squeezed the trigger fast three times then listened as a body fell to the floor.

Thump.

You grit your teeth together, hoping and praying and peeled open your eyes.

Sam was still standing. Thank granddad. Dean would've hated you for friendly fire. You aimed at the werewolves standing over Dean next and emptied the rest of the clip into them. 

They fell to the floor and Dean fought off the last one as Sam finished off the other. 

Then things were silent again. 

"Holy shit! Good shootin', little devil." Dean laughed and fell against the wall to catch his breath. 

Sam just clenched his jaw and glared at you. 

What was his problem? Did he know you closed your eyes? You aimed better that way anyways. 

"Where's Claire?" Sam grunted and rubbed his neck where the werewolf had tried to bite him. But his hand was covered in blood, "Dammit."

"What?" Dean asked, standing tall and glancing at Sam's hand. "You're bit?... Sammy?!" 

Dean's hands were in his hair and he spun around on his heel in disbelief. Then stalked over to his brother and pulled aside Sam's shirt collar.

"No. Fuck, no!" Dean shouted and punched the wall next to them. 

Then he threw the only lamp left standing across the room. It shattered in his fit of rage and he pulled down the bookcase for good measure. 

You set down your gun and padded over to Sam. Sam, eyeing you the whole time with zero trust in his stare. You popped up on your tiptoes and pulled him down by his shoulders to whisper in his ear. 

"Close your eyes." 

Sam furrowed his brow while Dean was busy hyperventilating in the corner. Rubbing his hands all over his face and scrolling through contacts on his phone, probably trying to find some non-existent cure.

But Sam was bit and Sam would turn if you didn't do anything.

"Trust me for one minute. What do you have to lose?" You whispered again and Sam let his eyes fall shut.

You placed your palm over the bite and channelled your energy into healing him. A blue light pulsed from your hand and Sam hissed. It probably stung like a bitch. But it beat turning into a werewolf and having to munch on cow hearts just to survive.

You wiped away the blood from his neck with your sleeve, inspecting your work. The skin was perfectly smooth like the wolf's fangs never punctured through.

You smiled, finally something went the way you planned. Doing good felt good, when it went right.

"How do you feel?" You asked just to make sure.

"Better, I guess." Sam's eyes fluttered open and met yours. His gaze of hazel softer than before, though still hesitant. "Thank you, I think."

"No biggie. Just a little spell I picked up over the years." You shrugged. You didn't think the boys noticed the lie.

Them thinking you dabbled in witchcraft was probably safer than them knowing the truth. At least for now.

Dean stood up, hanging up his phone mid-ring and walking over to Sam to check out his no longer existent wound. He glanced at you and you noticed his itchy trigger finger at his side.

"You're a witch?" Dean accused as if you kicked his puppy.

"No."

"Bullshit! That wasn't elementary magic, Y/N!" He shouted but still didn't raise his gun.

"Dean, calm down, man. She saved my life." Sam said, stepping partially in front of you. "Just this once, don't freak out how you always do."

Huh, save his life once and the big guy's already on your side. A turn of events you didn't see coming. Maybe there was more to him than just barbie doll hair and fault-finding glares. He knew you were hiding the truth but he didn't seem to care anymore.

"Shut it, Sam." Dean gave his brother a sideways look. "You know how I feel about witches. Blood sacrifices, hex bags and bones everywhere. There's always a price with them."

He gestured towards you and you scowled back at him. Not only a little hurt because you just said you weren't a witch but also because... didn't he feel what was between you, too? Or was it all one sided?

Maybe you should've let Sam die. He'd still think you were human then. You could've hidden that part of you forever. Or, at least, until he started to notice you weren't aging.

But, no, Sam was cool. You were glad you saved him. Maybe you could erase Dean's memory of the past five minutes. You never tried that before but it should be possible, right?

"'M not a witch," you mumbled and watched your boots. "I'm not bad, I want to be good."

That was true. It was the most honest you'd been with a human or anyone ever and you really wanted Dean to like you. Maybe this was the way to go. With honesty.

"I could've hurt you. I could've killed you both." You glanced up and met Sam's hazel eyes then Dean's green ones. "And I wouldn't need the gun to do it."

It was a bit of a threat, but an honest one. And they both seemed to get the weight of your words when neither one of them looked away. They looked anxious like they didn't want to be caught off guard by your next move.

"I'm on your side as long as you're on mine-" you cut yourself off thinking you heard something.

There it was again. Like a banging in the distance. Did they hear it too? You furrowed your brow when you noticed Dean was speaking.

"What do you-"

"Shh," you cut him off and titled your head towards the noise to hear better.

Dean took a couple steps towards you. A glint in his eye.

"Did you just shush me, little dev-"

"Shhhhhh!" You shushed, pressing your palm over his mouth and listening intently.

Dean raised his eyebrows and you felt a smirk tug at his lips, which he clearly failed to hide and Sam huffed out a laugh at the scene.

"Do you guys hear that?" You asked but didn't remove your hand from Dean's mouth so he just shook his head.

"What is it?" Sam inquired.

Dean rolled his eyes and muttered something muffled. You flattened your hand over his mouth more and he groaned but didn't move away. He looked silently amused. Maybe, even... turned on?

"Claire," you said and the boys' eyes widened.

You walked away from them, towards the back of the house and then outside. Sam followed first, nearly tripping over your heels as you led him towards a shed at the edge of the property. Where the banging got louder to the point where you knew they could hear it too.

Dean came up from behind, all man-on-a-mission like, and pushed you both aside. He tried the door knob and when it didn't budge he proceeded to throw his body against the door. But it was sturdy as hell and he was only human.

You put your hand on his shoulder to stop him. Dean puffed hard and gave you a questioning look.

You punched out the deadbolt and twisted the knob until it gave way and the door slowly pushed open.

You smiled up at him and held out your hand as if to say, after him.

Let him go first. Let him feel useful.

He puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders. Silly, little human... but cute, silly, little human.

Dean took the opportunity and entered first, gun drawn. Sam next. Then you padded in afterwards, seeing Claire tied to a chair that was bolted to the ground.

Her wrists were bloody and raw and her nose looked busted. You scrunched up your face, hating seeing her hurt like that and waited for Dean to first untie her before you made your way over to her. 

Claire ripped the duct tape from her mouth, "About time you showed up," she snapped at you. 

"You were supposed to wait for me." You growled back, already feeling that anger bubble up within again. "Ungrateful, little-"

"Thank you." 

She must've seen the surprise on your face and started laughing. 

"It's way too easy to bust your balls, Y/N, lighten up a little, would you?" She smiled and you saw the blood dripping from her nose and staining her teeth. "I'm starving. Got anything to eat?"

Sisters are a pain in the ass. You didn't care if you were supposed to love her. She was beyond difficult and she knew it. But, you did still love her.

You touched her forehead, fingertips humming and glowing blue for a moment as you healed her. You didn't care if the boys saw, they already knew something was up.

And after everything, you wouldn't be so easily dismissed if they decided you were a threat. Dean was yours -you decided- but you wouldn't force him even if you could make his life a living hell if he didn't want to be a part of yours. You needed him to keep those parts of you quiet and he was damaged, too. He could use you, too. You could help him; help each other. You could try. But would he let you? If not, maybe you could be satisfied with just checking up on him from time to time. 

You hesitated a glance up at Dean, expecting contempt in his eyes. You should probably leave, take the memory of the way he calmed you and use that as an anchor, don't sully it with the look he'd give you now. Or when he found out what you were -who you were. But you couldn't stop your eyes from finding his. And you couldn't decipher the look.

"I need a drink," Dean started, "and a burger." He looked at Claire, "I'm phoning Jody." Then back to you, "And we're gonna talk about this. All of it."

You nodded and waited for them to lead the way back to the Impala. You hung back with Claire.

"Do they know?" Claire whispered over to you.

You shook your head, feeling what could only be described as bubbles in your stomach. You decided it must be butterflies. You never had them before now.

What was Dean doing to you?

The more he looked at you the more you felt the way humans were supposed to feel. But you didn't think you were changing at all, not on a molecular level, anyways.

"Are you gonna tell them?" She asked.

You shrugged, you didn't want to talk about it, you didn't want to think about it. Claire didn't seem to understand and continued. As sisters do.

"Do you want me to talk to him? Maybe Castiel could-"

"No." You answered flatly.

Your mess, your problem. You didn't want your father cleaning things up for you again. Although, this time things were different, cleaner. You could keep it that way. You wouldn't hurt them and you wouldn't force them.

You wouldn't use your powers against them at all; you promised yourself.

"Cass?" Dean overheard and turned around to walk backwards. "You know Cass?"

Fucking Claire.

Don't lie. Don't lie. Don't lie... -Okay, little lie. Tiny little white lie. Teeny-weeny. 

"No-"

"-Yes." Claire answered at the same time as you.

Fucking sisters, you scowled to yourself.

"A little," you corrected yourself.

That wasn't a lie, was it?

"Mmm," Dean sighed and pointed. "No more lying, little devil."

"Oh, for the love of-" Claire exhaled way harder than necessary. She had less patience than you. You would've thought she was half demon. "He's her father!"

"Claire!" You growled.

Don't kill her. Don't kill her. Do not kill her!

You glared.

Inhale. Exhale.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, you didn't notice until you ran face first into his chest.

"Ouch," you grumbled and rubbed out the pain from your nose.

You were all powerful, sure, but you still felt pain. And your eyes watered.

"Your Cass' kid?" Dean grabbed your shoulders and really looked at you. "How?"

You didn't look much like your father. You had Y/H/C hair and raven eyes. If it weren't for the whites around your eyes you could pass as a demon even when you didn't lose control. That was the main reason everyone was always scared of you. You looked -you laughed at yourself- like a little devil.

You could act like an angel a hundred percent of the time and as soon as they found out you were part demon and nephalem, not nephilim, they'd only see that and scatter.

Bite the bullet. Come clean. But if Dean didn't like you as a witch then-

"Remember Cass had that demon girlfriend?" Claire continued, as always, not minding her own damn business.

"Meg?" Sam asked, he'd stopped too.

The fucking car was right there. Thirty feet away! So close, yet might as well be an ocean away.

"So, you're a nephalem?" Sam asked again.

Did this guy live in a monster library?! Seriously, didn't he know someone with such great hair shouldn't be a total nerd, too. Like give the less L'oreal-inclined a chance, for crying out loud.

You didn't know what to say. You couldn't deny it and you refused to defend yourself to measly humans who'd probably still judge you by your eyes despite anything you said.

So, you nodded. And you realized Dean was still clutching your shoulders, a little tighter now that you noticed.

"Cass and Meg?" Dean said aloud like he was trying to process the information but his brain wouldn't let him.

You didn't dare move a muscle, not because you were scared but because you were scared of scaring them off. So, you just kept your eyes on his green orbs. Willing him to feel anything other than contempt for the demon blood inside you. 

How did puppy dog eyes go again? Castiel taught you it in case you ever came across the Winchester brothers. He said it would come in handy as opposed to using your powers. Not everything had to be taken by force. Not everything had to be a feat of strength. 'Sometimes honey works better than vinegar', he told you.

You ran down the checklist in your mind: (1) tilt your head down, (2) soften eyebrows, (3) look through your lashes, and (4) open your eyes just a fraction more -but not too much or you look surprised, not adorable. We want adorable. Oh! And (5) -this one was optional- pout your lips. This step was always a fail for you, though... you disregarded it and followed through with the rest.

Sam was soulless once and Dean still loved him. You had a soul, you thought, would he see it in your raven eyes?

Claire broke the silence, slicing through the thick air with her loud voice, "She has a temper sometimes, but she's never hurt anyone that didn't deserve it. Can you guys say the same about yourselves?" What was she doing? You knew they couldn't, that's one reason your father wanted you to stay away. "Because I can't."

"So you're part angel, part...?" Dean asked, his hand sliding over your cheek to brush at the skin under your eye.

Puppy dog look was working! That never happened before! You were giddy inside but kept the look, letting him explore the depths of your eyes, letting him see everything.

"Part demon."

"No human?"

"Not enough to count."

There was a fraction of you that was human. The equivalent to a 0.0001 percent on an ancestry test.

When you were a child you wanted to be human, you refused to use your powers even and asked your parents if you could go to school with the other kids. But you grew faster than them so you weren't allowed.

That's partially why it's taken so long to learn your powers, why you stayed with your parents until now and you still struggled with keeping control; because you kept them caged up for so long, like a wild animal and now they raged against you with any strong emotion. Pain, pleasure, fear, anger, anything in excess was a trigger.

"So, 'little devil', huh? You must've had fun with that one." Dean chuckled and you placed your hand over his still cupping your cheek.

His skin was warm on yours but, funny thing was, you never felt cold until you felt him.

"You have no idea." You smiled sweetly.

Again, not the daughter of the devil but demon was close enough. Lucifer was kind of your grandfather by creation, or your uncle? Both? You didn’t know, those things were hard to keep track of and you weren’t on speaking terms anyways. 

"Do you eat?" Dean asked.

You shrugged, "Sometimes."

"But you don't have to, do you?"

"No." You admitted and looked away. "I do love anything with cheese, though. Cheese is the greatest thing your kind ever invented... food wise."

"Really? Not chocolate?" Claire gaped.

"Umm," you thought about it, "it's a close second."

Dean laughed with a warm smile, "Let's get you something cheesy, then."

You beamed.

You honestly didn't expect Dean to react this way. You thought it probably had a lot to do with Castiel being your father. They seemed close, in the past. Or you were getting played, big time.

Let him try something if that's what he was up to. He couldn't hurt you and chances were if he could, he wouldn't know how tonight. They'd have to research since even you didn't know your weaknesses, there wasn't much lore on the matter. 

You wanted to trust Dean and it was kind of fun to play human while you were around them so you tagged along to the restaurant. 

Claire frowned and pouted as she ate her pasta forcefully. You thought she bit her fork once but kept going. There was sauce all over her chin. 

Dean had called Jody on the ride to the diner and Jody chewed her out over not waiting for backup. She deserved it, but it was a little harsh.

Claire saved a couple of kids from that shed before she got nabbed. It wasn't just that she let her guard down. She did good.

You didn't tell her that, though. It would only enable her and if anything happened to her you knew your father would be upset. She was a small human, not incapable but there was an advantage to being either powerful, like you, or big and strong like Dean and Sam.

"Earth to Y/N." Dean waved a hand in front of your face.

You didn't realize you'd been staring at his forearms, the sleeves of his flannel rolled up just enough for you to see his muscles move as he ate his cheeseburger. Sam had a salad, what the hell? Didn't a moose need more fuel?

"How's your poutine?"

"Pure cheesy goodness." You sighed and picked out another fry, twirling the melted cheese onto the end of it and sticking it between your lips.

You hummed at the taste. When Dean asked if you'd ever tried poutine and you said 'No', he completely flipped out and demanded you order it. There were no regrets but your mind was wandering with him sitting right in front of you. There was nowhere else to look and he was a masterpiece. 

Sam had his perks, too, his shoulders were massive and you never noticed things like that on humans before but you think you liked that. Big shoulders. Dean had them, too. Must run in the family. 

You sucked the gravy from your fingers and let out a slow breath with a little sigh. It sounded like a light moan.

"Y/N," Claire hissed and elbowed you and you saw her blush. "Can't you be normal? One time?"

You pouted -not really sure what the big deal was, it wasn't that loud- and picked up another fry. It's been a while since you ate anything, since you didn't really need to eat anything and it tasted really good.

You held up the fry, sticking out your tongue and sucking the melted cheese thread from the end of it into your mouth. You circled the tip of your tongue, collecting the thread until the fry met your lips and Claire jabbed you in the side again. 

You glared at her, muttered a 'What?!' and rolled your eyes. 

"Enjoying yourself?" Dean asked, his gaze heavy and his food left abandoned on his plate as he watched you.

"Mhm. Want some?" You offered innocently and sucked the gravy from your thumb.

"No. I'm having fun watching you, little devil. Keep going." He said and wet his bottom lip.

What did he just say?! You blushed. Hard.

You absolutely loved the butterflies he made come to life in your chest and stomach. Yeah, you were keeping him.

"Here. Just use this," Claire shoved the unused fork next to your plate at you. "And stop moaning, for fuck's sake."

"Sorry," you grabbed the fork and stuck it into a couple of fries. "Happy now?" You asked sarcastically, demonstrating the use of a fork by shovelling it into your mouth like Claire had done with her pasta.

You pouted to yourself, it tasted better with your fingers. That was weird, though, right? Next time you'd get it to go and eat alone in your motel room the way you wanted. 

You'd given up on being normal a long time ago. Weird was your forte. You were Castiel's daughter, after all, and Castiel was the king of weird. He made it cool. 

Your father brought you up to love yourself and Claire was just being Claire. Sometimes you got along and other times, you didn't. You thought having the boys here kind of put her on edge, too. Like she wanted them to approve of her and by extension, you. 

You had an inkling Dean approved of your eating methods, though. Maybe not Sam, even if he was all shades of red right now, and avoiding all eye contact, and he kept shifting in his seat like he was uncomfortable. It was funny. 

_____

Dean refused to stay at the motel near the dive you met him at -the closest motel in town- and instead drove for two hours to the next one. Which didn't look a whole lot better. It could only have, like, maybe half a star more than the last place. 

You had a room all to yourself, as did Claire and the boys shared a room with the two queen beds. In the morning they were set to drive Claire back home to Jody and the others. They wanted to make sure she actually got there and didn't run off again to do something stupid, as usual.

You didn't think it would matter, she would do whatever she wanted as soon as she got the chance. So, why delay the inevitable? As long as she called when she got in a jam and kept someone up to date on where and what she was hunting, you let her do her thing.

Even if the worst were to happen, you could always bring her back. You successfully resurrected a bird last summer. Castiel tried to explain balancing the universe or something but you didn't understand letting things suffer if you could give them a second chance. 

Like the bird who was minding his own business, pecking for worms in the grass in the rain when this plump house-cat came along and snatched him up. That bird probably had a nest to feed and that cat was just bored. You gave him a second chance. How could that be a bad thing?

That being said, you weren't about to take any strolls through the cemetery to awaken the dead. Even you had your limits. But you'd break the rules for the select few you truly cared about.

You sat on the edge of the bed in your motel room, flipping aimlessly through the five channels on TV. It was late, you were bored and you didn't sleep. You should've told Dean not to bother with a room for you but you didn't want to leave them just yet and he didn't ask.

Three quick knocks came at your door and you checked the digital clock on the bedside table.

Three-O-two A.M.

You shut off the TV -not wanting to watch the weather channel anymore, it was boring and repetitive, but you liked the tune they played in the background over and over- and walked towards the door. You undid the locks and opened the door.

You understood why people in horror movies were usually scared if something like this happened, but when you're nearly invincible, nothing like that really scares you anymore. Other things scared you, though, like if Dean left without you in the morning.

Sure, you could easily find him anywhere he went, but if he didn't want you around... that would be scary. Because, you really liked him and you drew the line at actually forcing yourself on him, even in a friendship.

But there he was, standing in your doorway and looking like he'd just woken up.

"Hey," he rasped, "Can I come in?"

"'Course," you stepped aside and shut the door behind him. "Something the matter?"

"Uh," he brushed his bedhead back in an attempt to comb it and glanced around the room. His green eyes settling on your still-made-up bed. "You don't sleep?"

It was more of a statement but you answered anyway.

"Do angels or demons sleep?" You shrugged and he acknowledged with a nod. "Dean? Are you okay? You look frazzled."

He laughed at your term and hung his shoulders as if you saw right through him and he knew he couldn't hide it with you. He sighed and sat on the edge of your bed, head in his hands.

"I had a nightmare." He swallowed like he was waiting for you to laugh, but you didn't. "It's always the same fucking thing." He continued and you stayed silent, crawling into a spot next to him on the bed. He didn't look at you and exhaled again. "I'm back in that house and it's burning, but I can't find Sammy and my dad's... just -gone. I feel the heat on my skin and in my lungs and I can't breathe… and then, I wake up, and I still can't breathe.” He looked up, finally meeting your eyes. "I don't know why or how, but... I can take a breath around you." He lifted his shoulders and turned towards you. "I had to make sure you were still here."

"I am," you nodded and smiled softly, "Is that a good thing?"

He huffed out a laugh, "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"Yeah, I'm your inhaler."

"Damn, sweetheart, you really do take after Cass, don't you?" Dean smirked.

You were aware of how clueless your father was with pop culture references, it was something you were working on with him. You supposed you took after him a little, you always liked when people pointed out your similarities, even with your mother, too. Not all stuff demon was bad.

"Like father, like daughter." You shrugged. 

********************************************

When Dean wasn't paying attention -lost in your raven eyes- you hit him in the face with one of your pillows. His face blanched and you giggled and spun away from him. His arms wrapping around your waist before you could hop off the bed.

"Naughty, little devil." He growled in your ear.

You barely hit him! And squirmed against his hold, I'll bet, not hard. You were pretending to be human again. It was nice for a change letting someone else be all powerful. Especially someone like Dean who felt powerless. You could see it in his eyes when he was talking about his nightmare. 

Your back pressed to his chest and you felt his heart beat fast against yours. You liked being in his arms, you never felt so calm with your blood moving as fast as it did. Usually when your heart beat fast it was because you were angry. Demon blood -almost literally- boiling. 

This feeling was so far from that. Your whole body buzzed like it was electrified and tingles curled your toes. Then Dean's palm found the hem of your shirt and snaked up underneath it, laying flat on the skin of your stomach.

Dean groaned and shifted behind you, his bowed legs wrapping around your hips and his arms pulling you with him as he leaned back against the headboard. He breathed hard into your hair and kissed your ear. 

"If Cass knew what I was thinking about his little girl right now..."

"I feel it, too." 

You threaded your fingers through his as he clutched you to him. Dean's grip easing a little as you melted into him. You turned your head to meet him with a slow, soft kiss and then he dropped his forehead to yours. 

You breathed heavy and added, "But stop mentioning my father."

Dean barked out a laugh and turned rosy, "Last time. Promise." And he kissed you again. 

"This is kind of crazy." You panted between kisses, neither of you pushing for more just yet.

"Mmm," Dean agreed, continuing to attack your lips until they felt swollen against his. "Do you wanna stop?"

"Never." You giggled. "Don't stop. Please."

You turned and straddled his lap. Dean brushed the hair from your face as he stared into your eyes. Frozen and lost in their endless depths.

"Your eyes are incredible," he breathed and you shied away. "Don't look away. Look at me."

You exhaled nervously and chewed your lip as you pressed your forehead to his and met his gaze again.

Nobody ever looked at you like that.

His hands on your back roamed up and down, squeezing anything he could get a grip on. His fingertips indenting your skin under your shirt when he held you and shifted his hips down the bed, just enough so you sat in his lap like a puzzle piece, as he leaned his mouth into yours and captured yours lips.

"It feels like you were made for me." Dean groaned and his hands fell to your ass. "We just fit so perfectly together."

He pushed your hips down and his bulge pressed between your legs making you moan softly in his ear. You were both still very clothed but it felt nice to finally fit with someone. Like you knew where you belonged all along.

"I need you." You breathed into his ear, sucking his lobe between your teeth and nibbling. You felt him catch his breath and kissed down his neck. "It feels right with you. Don't leave me, ever."

You knew you were coming on strong but he had to already know what he was getting into. Cass' daughter and a nephalem, stronger than any other being on earth including Chuck. He had to know you weren't some one night thing. He certainly looked at you like you weren't.

"I don't plan to." Dean vowed, tugging the hem of your shirt up.

You let him strip it off of you and he went for your bra next. Covering yourself when he threw the wire beast to the floor. He met your eyes lovingly.

"Don't hide from me, little devil." He murmured and pulled your arms away from your chest. "You're the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on."

"You really know how to make a girl melt, don't you?" You laughed and hugged him, pressing his cheek to your chest. "Your turn."

You leaned back from him and tugged his shirt over his head. Trailing your fingertips over his anti-possession tattoo while he watched you with lust blown green eyes.

Dean threw you onto your back and climbed over you, ravaging your neck as heat throbbed between your legs. You moaned and felt him pull at your leggings. He tugged them down to your knees and you heard the zipper of his jeans follow.

You pushed the rest of your clothes off with your heels and Dean rid himself of his, then plastered his body back to yours. Feeling every inch of his skin pressed against yours.

He settled between your legs and his green eyes met your raven ones. A smile quirked his lips and he kissed down your chest as he hooked your knee with his arm, spreading you open.

His lips teased your nipple and you whimpered and threaded your fingers through his hair. Tugging when he teased the sensitive flesh with his teeth.

Dean grunted and kissed his way back to your lips. Trailing his moist breath over your skin and sending shivers through your body, down to your toes.

Fuck, he felt good. 

Your body was humming when he nudged between your legs, lining himself up and thrusting inside of you in a single push. You cried out and held his shoulders, feeling him breath deep and his muscles move slowly as he rocked into the apex of your thighs.

Pleasure quickly filled your veins and you latched your ankles around his lower back, keeping him pressed to you. Your breasts flattened against his chest and his thrusts grew faster and stronger as you tried to keep up, moving your hips in time to meet him.

Your hips bumped into his and you felt his tummy tighten against yours as he grew more desperate for you. His hand gripped your ass as he pressed himself more into you and your fingers tangled into his hair at the sensation, pulling the short strands and making him groan.

Fuck, he felt great!

Inside of you, on top of you. You felt grounded like you belonged exactly where you were. Like this was always meant to happen. Like you couldn't contain whatever was building between you. Like you were about to burst in the most unimaginably delightful way.

He grunted in your ear and the heat between your legs blossomed, your eyes rolling behind your lids as you shut your eyes and rode out your orgasm. Holding onto him for dear life.

He was a god among men.

Dean groaned louder, feeling you clench around him as he continued to push into you again and again. Pumping a few more times as he chased his own end and he started to come. He breathed heavy and loud in your ear, burying himself inside you with one final thrust and holding your hip with his hand as you felt warmth spill inside of you.

You didn't know if you could actually get pregnant by being with a human, your body was still flesh and bone to a certain extent, but at the moment you didn't care.

Dean fell onto you, pressing you into the mattress and you held him, tracing circles along his shoulders with your nails and kissing his cheek. He sighed, hot breath in your hair and on your neck and his lips found yours again. Kissing you deep and needy until the urge for air burned your lungs.

"Y/N..." Dean started and puffed against your lips, still trying to catch his breath. "I..."

"What?"

"It's never been that good."

But he shook his head and kissed you again. His kisses soft and pliant, easing as his heart fell back into a steady rhythm.

You did it again about a half hour later. And showered together as the sun rose, barely getting any sleep. Or Dean barely got any sleep. You were sure today would be one of the lucky days that Sam actually got to drive the Impala and you planned to spend the car ride holding Dean as he slept in the backseat. 

********************************************

After dropping Claire off with Jody -whom you got to meet and genuinely liked- you tagged along with the boys to a few other cases along their route back to Lebanon. More than one of those cases taking you way out of the way.

The detour was scenic and pleasant and you weren't in a rush for the road trip to end. You weren't entirely sure it ever ended for them. And you wanted to stick around for a while, find your sea legs and stand on your own, but with them by your side. With him.

The infatuation didn't end in that motel room and neither did the sex. But it was getting harder and harder to find time alone and you were ready for some time with just Dean, a bed and maybe some cheese -not in bed but maybe between romps in it.

The Impala -or Baby, as Dean called her- rolled into Lebanon late in the afternoon and up to a red brick building that looked like a warehouse. This must've been the bunker that your father often talked about. And when the car took the road around the back towards the secret entrance to the underground garage, there he was standing guard outside, just waiting.

Your father. He looked angry -his facial expression never actually changed, but you knew his cues after the years- and he held your eyes through the window of the Impala. Shit.

Castiel stood outside waiting for who knows how long. Trench coat blowing open in the breeze and his tie loosened a bit more than usual.

You might've sent him to voicemail more than a couple of times over the past weeks -after Dean insisted you get a phone to keep in touch- and when you listened to the messages, he wasn't all that thrilled about you hanging around with the boys, especially Dean. And especially since he knew how Dean was with women. You liked to think you were different together, though, it wasn't like you had much luck with serious relationships in the past either. So, you would figure it out together.

It wasn't your father's business but it was clear in his eyes when you stepped out of the car to meet him that he wasn't getting that.

"Cass-" Dean greeted as he climbed out of the car with you, a giant smile plastered on his face as he approached his friend.

Cass glared at him and touched his forehead. Dean instantly fell to the ground unconscious before you had a chance to catch him. Luckily it wasn't pavement so it wasn't a hard landing.

"Was that really necessary?" You snapped at your father.

Sam rushed to park the car and jumped out to check on Dean.

"Cass, what the hell?!" Sam growled, kneeling next to his brother and Cass touched his forehead next.

Sam fell over awkwardly on top of Dean and you thought maybe you should push him off but then your father spoke to you again.

"It's time for you to come home. You had your fun, Y/N." He said and stuck his hands into the pockets of his trench coat.

"I don't want to." You glowered. "You're pissed, I get it, but why are you taking it out on them?"

"Dean can't love you," Cass explained and his blue eyes flicked down to Dean's unconscious face, half hidden under Sam's arm. "He won't ever choose you over his family... over Sam. Me and your mother will choose you every time. Come home."

"I don't need him to choose me over his family, I want to be a part of their unit, I want to grow with them-"

"You can't grow with them, Y/N, you'll watch them grow old until the day they die. You could watch a million generations fly by before you even age a second."

"I don't care! I want him while I can have him! As long as he'll have me." You screamed and your chin trembled so you clenched your jaw tight.

"You'll care in ten years when he gets injured easier, twenty when he starts looking more like your father than your boyfriend-"

"Stop."

"And in thirty years, he'll probably be dead, hunters don't last long, Y/N, especially human ones." Your father vented almost like he wasn't just trying to convince you.

Cass and Dean were close, he wouldn't just let him die. He wouldn't just continue on without him. Dean would impact your father on a deep emotional level before his time came, he already did, you saw it as much as he tried to ignore it. Or not think about it.

"Please. Stop." Your voice was quiet now and Dean started to stir underneath Sam's limp body. "If he can't live forever, I want to be human, too."

You looked up at your father with tears in your eyes. You hardly ever cried and Cass steeled his jaw.

"I'll find a way," you promised yourself and wiped away a tear.

Your father's face fell, like he wasn't expecting that response and breathed out a long sigh, "Your mother isn't going to be happy about this." He shook his head and loosened his tie a little more. "But I'll help you, if you're sure. Because I love you."

Your father would do anything for you even if it broke his heart to do it. There were ways to get the best of both worlds, though. You never tried it but if an angel lost their grace, they turned human. You could siphon your grace and store it for the future, then you could grow old with him for as long as it lasted.

The only problem was the part of you that was demon. You didn't know how that would balance out if you lost your grace. But you'd find a way. 

You hugged your father when you saw his heart breaking and assured him that he wasn't losing you. And who knows, maybe you'd find a way to make Sam and Dean live forever instead, and then you wouldn't have to give up anything.

Dean groaned and pushed at Sam's arm, shifting out from under his little brother's heavy body.

"What the fuck, Cass?" He groaned as he checked on Sam and stood up. He saw you hugging and nodded like he understood, "Guess, I may have deserved that." 

"I'll be watching you," Cass said, squinting his steely blue eyes and pointing between them and Dean. A reference to a movie Dean probably made him watch. "She's my baby, Dean, treat her like she's your Baby." 

He nudged his head towards the Impala and you laughed as you skipped back over to Dean and into his arms. You held him tight around his waist and squeezed until you heard him huff in pain and curse.

You loosened your grip but didn't let him go. You have to squeeze adorable things, everyone knew that; Dean was tough, he could take it.

"Fuck. I don't want to be on either of your bad sides." He admitted and kissed your forehead. "You did good, Cass, she's beautiful... and strong as fuck. Shit, little devil, I think you just cracked my ribs."

Cass quirked an eyebrow at the endearment and you laughed at your father's face turning sour. Then Sam groaned from the ground behind you; which was a good thing, because Dean was going to need backup.

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

SPN: @hobby27

[deangirlsstuff67]

Good Girl

MOC! Dean x Reader

Warnings: Praise, sex toys, MOC! Dean, bondage, Unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, anal play, P in V, dirty talk

Summary: Dean and Sam are fighting yet again. You hear glass shatter against a wall, followed by a very angry Sam slamming his door. Feeling brave, you go in search of Dean.

Masterlist | Patreon

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They're at it again. Those two fight worse than a married couple these days. Makes sense given the current situation we all find ourselves living in. I just don't think angering Dean is the wisest choice, he's already on the edge most days. It would take a soft wind to blow him over.

Sadly, your new to hunting, meaning the guys don't listen to you on a good day. Couple years ago Dean and Sam saved your crazy ass when a nest of vampires came to town and killed your family. You are 22 years old and bought the boys enough whiskey at the local bar to make them agree you could come back to the bunker.

Dean tries to avoid you as much as possible. While you don't get the feeling he hates you, you do know you make him uncomfortable.

Sam has taken you under his wing as a little sister. Teachs you the basics of fighting and makes you read lore book after lore book. And in this place I think I'll be dead before I get through it all.

Even Cas has taken a liking to you. He teaches you about angels and you teach him how to be less awkward, it's sort of working.

Glass shattering brings you back to the present.

Well fuck, that can't be a good sign. Moments later heavy, angry foot steps deasend the hallway and a door slams. Sam's door, meaning Dean's still out there... pissed.

With a loud sigh you get out of bed. You're wearing one Dean's flannels and black lacy underwear. You've always had a crush on the older Winchester. Tonight you're hoping the outfit will work like armor. Dean's a ladies man after all, and your not bad looking if you say so yourself.

Slowly and quietly you make your way towards the command center in search of the ticking time bomb known as Dean. This is most definitely a bad idea but you can't stand the thought of him alone with all that rage running through his veins.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The scene you walk in on saddens your soul. Dean has the bottle of amber liquor sitting beside him as he stares at the wall and broken glass. So lost in his own head he doesn't hear me coming until I'm standing in front of him.

Those bright green eyes rake up and down my body, the farther they travel the darker they become. When he drags his eyes back to mine they are damn near pitch black. Lust sparkling in them.

Oh fuck.

You try to sound strong and confident, but let's face it this man melts you into a puddle at his feet.

"Dean..." your voice is higher than normal, barely above a whisper, "are you o... okay?"

His breathing is labored, coming out in deep puffs that shake his shoulders. To look at him you'd think he was on the verge of murder. But it's his eyes, they tell a very different story.

"That’s my shirt y/n." The way your name rolls of his tongue is dangerous. Sending a warmth straight to your core, making you involuntarily squeeze your thighs together.

His eyes snap down to your soaking core. Shit, he noticed. Of course he did, wouldn't be a good hunter if he didn't have reflexes of a cat.

"I didnt think you'd mind. I need to do laundry. " You go to reach for his hand but he stands abruptly. Without a word he turns to leave the room, and you.

Why Dean.

Not this time. You rush him from behind but your plan back fires. Next thing you know Dean has you pinned against the wall and his hard body. Very hard... ALL of it.

After a couple moments of silence you have to ask, "why do you always run from me?"

A smile curls those perfectly soft lips before he lightly pumps his hips into yours, making his hard cock rub deliciously against your dripping core.

Well fuck, it's not that he hates me, it's that he likes me... a lot.

Now or never y/n.

Feeling brave you look him dead in the eye and ask, "why don't you use some of that pent up anger for some good big guy?" Finishing off by grabbing his cock through his jeans, hard.

Groaning, Dean rips you off the wall and down the hall.

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Bondage. Should have seen this coming in hindsight. The man thrives on control. Even more so now.

Here I am tied to Dean's bed via handcuffs. The beautiful specimen in his black boxers looking down at me as he pushes the small vibrator straight onto my bundle of nerves, again.

"Such a good girl for me. Think you have one more in that tight little pussy for me?" He moves a finger down to the plug he worked into my tight channel and softly taps.

My head is spinning from the previous orgasms he's pulled from my body already, the most I can do is let out a loud moan in answer.

This is a side of Dean I've never experienced before. He's enjoying making me cock drunk. Thriving on the power it supplies him. At least if the ever growing wet spot at the top of his boxers is any indication.

"Beg me sweetheart. Beg for my cock to fill you, stretch you." My eyes are closed but I know he's close. I can feel his hot breath on my cheek as he leans down to whisper in my ear.

"Dean... pl.. please can I.. I have your co.. cock"

"You're sound so pretty when you beg Princess." He lifts the vibrator off my clit just before another orgasm rips through my body. I whimper at the lose making him laugh.

Before I have time to protest my lose, Dean positions himself between my shaking thighs and feeds his rock hard dick into my soaking core.

Groans echo off the walls of his room as we adjust to the feel of each other. He's huge. That big dick cocky energy isn't a lie, the man's packing.

"Y/N you feel amazing wrapped around my cock." Slowly he pulls out until nothing but the tip is left then he slams back in. Handcuffs rattling from the movement.

He takes me hard and fast. Working both of us into a frenzy of moans and whimpers. Soon I'm clamping down on his cock making it harder for him to pull out as I scream his name and flood his member and thighs.

It's all it takes to send him over the edge as he joins me. Rope after rope of warm cum fills my quivering walls. He's Cummings so hard I can feel it begin to leak out of me and down my thighs.

Dean collapses onto my worn-out body. Only moving to undo the handcuffs and bring my arms down to massage as he catches his breath. Once we are back on planet Earth, he eases his soften dick from my abused core, the mixture of us leaking out.

Memorized for a moment, he takes his fingers and gently pushes it back inside me, causing my to whimper.

Dean smiles down at me, satisfied and moves to the bathroom to clean up and bring me a wet cloth. After he's done cleaning us up, he grabs my body and man handles it to a postion of his liking as we cuddle together.

Moments pass in silence before Dean speaks, "thank you. That was exactly what I needed to calm the mark. You're amazing sweetheart."

"Anything for you Dean."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

A soft giggle leaves my lips, "not in a bad way."

Dean sends me a naughty smirk and wink before taking my lips in a passionate kiss.

"Get some rest Princess, I have plans for us when we wake."

It's the last I hear before sleep takes my exhausted body into the land of slumber, dreaming of tomorrow and what awaits me.

[winchestersickness]

Sorry anon I somehow deleted your ask 😔 but here's the rec! I went through my ao3 history and picked these, I hope there's something you haven't read yet and that you will enjoy :))

Gift Horse, Mouth, etc.

Sam gets accidentally stuck with a curse that can only be lifted by acting on his deepest hidden fantasy. Dean thinks it's hilarious, and why won't Sammy just tell him what it is already? It can't be anything that weird. Right?

Please Tell Me Who I Am

A/B/O AU. As a beta, Sam shouldn’t even be attracted to his alpha brother (much less be yearning for Dean to finally take that last step into claiming him officially) but, a few compatibility issues aside, they’re happy with the pseudo-mateship they’ve got going on. At least, until a hunt-gone-wrong ends up with Sam being cursed into an omega. He and Dean race to find a way to reverse the spell before it’s too late…but now Sam’s not entirely sure if he even wants to be cured.

Convalescence

Post-Cage!Sam seen through the eyes of others.

(more under the cut)

In Loco Parentis

“Sam, are you,” Dean pauses, squeezing his eyes shut for a second because his brain just doesn’t want to catch up. “Are you jerking off and thinking about Dad?” (Sam is 15).

take the things you love

The thing is, Sam’s reinforcing every bad behavior Dean’s ever had with this kind of shit. Fucking Sam stupid over the hood of the Impala? Dean’s wet dream—unfortunately also Sam’s—but more importantly the implicit validation of every claim Dean thinks he has on Sam—unfortunately every claim Sam’s lizard brain wants Dean to have. (Sam knows his brother wants to possess him. It's a point of internal conflict.)

There's An Enochian Incantation

Dean finds a spell to create a weapon to banish leviathans. It involves an Enochian incantation. The last thing Sam's already-fragile mind needs is to hear words in the language of angels.

brother only wants

Sam breathes like it takes effort, and then he says, "Wanting you was the very first thing I realized was wrong with me. It was how I knew there was something sick inside." (One of them had to fall first. A story about devotion.)

Hands Away

When you’re horny and alone with one person in one room for a long time and you’re sixteen and all you’ve ever been taught is to love your brother more than anything, it doesn’t seem like that far of a leap to start imagining what his mouth would feel like around your dick.

Squint into the Sunset | Glare into the Gloaming

The 70k-word nonlinear coming of age story that literally no one asked for. "I know you want to give him the world, Dean, but you were never supposed to give him this."

Taking Advantage

Sam is doing everything Dean tells him to. It’s weird, and Dean wants to get to the bottom of it so he pushes Sam. Sam breaks.

I'd Gladly Lose Me To Find You

Sam takes a vow of silence in order to pull Dean out of Hell, but by the time Dean comes back, Sam's lost more of himself than just his voice. Splits off completely from canon after the season 3 finale.

One Going On Eternity And Counting

Some boundaries were never meant to be crossed ...

with hearts that are guilty, not remorseful

“I’ve wanted you since I knew what wanting was.” It’s a fact, as plain as the day. The sky is blue. Their mother was killed by a demon. They hunt monsters. Sam wants Dean. “I’ve loved you for longer, I think.” “God,” Dean’s voice is barely a whisper, raising a hand to grip his own hair by the roots and pulling. He looks absolutely wretched. “I fucked you up, didn’t I?”

When You're Not Here

The third time Sam Winchester comes to school with bruises, Mrs. Davidson decides it's time to intervene - before it's too late.

Gutless

Sticky fingers, that’s what Dean always calls him.

Bullet for my Valentine

Stupid. He is so goddamn fucking stupid. Running his mouth like a fucking idiot, not knowing when to leave well enough alone. Bad enough that he just practically talked dirty to his little brother, which, Christ – he must be more stressed than he thought if his self-control mechanisms have started malfunctioning that badly. But no, no, he came up with a scenario straight out of a bad slasher film, as if that is something normal people talk dirty about, as if that is something Sam would seriously enjoy. As if – As if Dean hadn’t hunted his own brother through the maze of the bunker, eyes black and hammer raised to strike, not even a full year ago. As if Sam hadn’t, just a few weeks back, knelt at his feet, neck bared, waiting for Dean to deal a fatal blow with a fucking scythe.

I haven't been reading spn fics for long so idk if all these are well known already, but I loved all of these (a couple of them are platonic). hope you'll like them!

[maddiehu7]

My angel | Castiel |

Chapter 2

*knock knock*

"So, where is it?" A girl with black hair and a tank top opens the door

"Where's what?" I question

"the pizza that takes two guys to deliver" she says sarcastically

"I think we got the wrong room" Dean sighs out

"Hey is-" Sam says coming out from around the corner

"Hey, ya, Sammy" Dean says smiling, Sam breathing heavily looking at him in shock, Dean goes towards him for a hug but Sam jumps into action taking out a knife and pinning Dean against the wall, bobby jumping in pulling Sam off him

"Who are you!" Sam shouts trying to get out of Bobby's hold

"Like you didn't do this" Dean says angrily

"Do what?!" Sam continues shouting

"It's him Sam, it's him, I've been through this already it's really him" Bobby says still holding Sam back

"But..." Sam starts to calm down

"I know, I look fantastic" Dean says smiling walking towards him Sam just looks at him for a second before hugging him tightly

"So, are you to like....together?" We all look to the girl in the corner

"What? No, he's my brother" Sam smiles

"O-oh got it...I guess, look I should probably go" she says awkwardly

"Yeah-yeah probably a good idea..sorry" Sam sighs out, she collects her clothes Sam also getting dressed while we stand there awkwardly

"So call me?" she says heading out the door

"Yeah, yeah sure thing Kathy" Sam says

"Christie" she corrects

"Right" they stand there awkwardly for a second before she leaves, Sam closes the door coming over to sit down as we all look at him suspiciously

"So tell us what'd it cost?" I question angrily pissed at the fact he hasn't even acknowledged me

"The girl? I don't pay Mia" he looks at me laughing my face screwing up in disgust

"Not funny Sam, to bring me back what'd it cost? Was it just your soul of was it something worse?" Dean takes over

"You think I made a deal?"

"That's exactly what we think" I say

"Well I didn't" he sounds honest but if he didn't bring dean back, who did?

"Don't lie to us" Dean says seriously

"I'm not lying" Sam looks up at him

"So, what now? I'm off the hook and your on is that it? Your some demons bitch boy, I didn't wanna be saved like this"

"Look, Dean I wish I had done it, all right?" Sam stands up but when he does Dean grabs him by the shirt harshly

"There's no other way that this could have gone down now tell the truth!" Dean yells, Sam pushing him off

"I tried everything that's the truth, I tried opening the devils gate, hell I tried to bargain Dean but no demon would deal all right....you were rotting in hell for months-for months and I couldn't stop it so I'm sorry it wasn't me...Dean I'm sorry" Sam finish's sadly

"It's okay Sammy...you don't have to apologize I believe you" Dean sighs out

"Don't get wrong I'm gladden that Sam's soul remains intact, but that does raise a sticky question" Bobby speaks up

"If he didn't pull Dean out, then what did?" I say confused.

We all sit down, Sam handing Dean and Bobby a beer

"So what were you doing around here if you weren't digging me out of my grave?" Dean asks taking a swig of his drink

"Well once I figured out I couldn't save you....i started hunting Lilith down, trying to get some payback" Sam says

"All by yourself?" I question still angry he didn't call once

"Yeah I'm-I'm sorry Mia and Bobby I should have called, I was pretty messed up" Sam sighs out not even sounding sorry

"Oh like I wasn't you fucking asshole" I spit back

"Mia..." Sam trails off not knowing what to say

"Whatever Sam" is say tearing up a bit, Bobby rubbing my shoulder

"I know a girl her names Pamela she could probably help with something like this" Bobby says to us

"Well what are we waiting for" I say swallowing my feelings, walking out the door them following me

We get in baby for the first time in a year and it's like coming home I sit in the back smiling

"What the hell is that?" Dean says looking at technology in his old car

"That's an iPod jack" Sam says smiling

"You were supposed to take care of her not douche her up" Dean says annoyed

"Dean I thought the car was mine" Sam scoffs, Dean just looks away rolling his eyes starting the car driving off

"There's still one thing that's bothering me" Dean speaks up after a couple minutes on the road

"Yeah?" I say

"Yeah the night that I got bit, how'd you two make it out? I thought Lilith was gonna kill you guys to" He says looking at Sam i just sit back in my seat knowing Dean will not react well to what happened

"We'll, she tried to kill Mia but I jumped in front of her but when I did nothing happened, she couldn't kill me"

"what do you mean she couldn't?" Dean says confused

"She fired this like burning light at me and...it didn't leave a scratch like I was immune or something" Sam says looking at Dean

"Immune?" He questions

"Yeah I don't know who was more surprised her or us, she left pretty fast after that"

"Huh" Dean sighs out

"What about queen of bitches ruby were is she?" I ask Sam

"Dead or in hell"

"So you've been using your freaky e.s.p stuff?" Dean questions and even though I'm not on the best terms with Sam I kick Deans seat for calling him freaky

"No" Sam says but I can tell there’s something more to it

"Sure about that? I mean now that you've got immunity, whatever the hell that is" i say sighing

"What other wierdo crap you got going on" Dean says bluntly

"Dean!" I scold him

"It's ok Mia" Sam smiles at me thankfully I just roll my eyes still mad at him

~~~time skip~~~

"Bobby!" A pretty woman comes out smiling hugging him

"Your a sight for sore eyes" Bobby smiles

"So, are you the kids he always talks about?" She says looking us up and down

"Sam, dean, Mia-Pamela Barnes best damn psychic in the state" Bobby says, we all say hi

"Mm,mm,mm" she says looking at us hungrily

"Dean Winchester out of the fire and back in the frying pain, huh? Makes you a rare individual" Pamela says

"if you say so" Dean replies

"Come on in" she says leading us into her house

"So you hear anything?" Bobby asks

"Well I quija-ed my way through a dozen spirits no one seems to know who broke your boy out or why" she sighs out

"So what's next" I say

"a seance I think, see if we can see who did the deed" she says

"Your not gonna summon the damn thing here?" Bobby questions

"No I just wanna get a sneak peak at it, like a crystal ball without the crystal"

"I'm game" I say she smiles at me leading us to a table and laying a cloth down on it, setting up some candles, and turning the lights off having us all sit down

“Take each others hands, and I need to touch something our mystery monster touched” Pamela says, we all look at Dean as he pulls up his shirt sleeve reviling the handprint

“Ok” she says as she places her hand on it closing her eyes

“I invoke, conjure, and command you to appear unto me before this circle” she says repeating it a couple times before the tv turns on and the table starts to shake

“Castiel?” She says I look at her questioningly

“No sorry castiel I don’t scare easy” she says challenging it

“Castiel?” I ask

“Its name, it’s whispering to me to turn back, I conjure and command you show me your face” she repeats

“Maybe we should stop” Bobby says worriedly

“I almost got it” she says quickly going back to repeating

“Show me your face now!” She yells but all of a sudden the candles light up and she’s screaming her eyes burning white as she passes out

“Call 911!” Bobby yells to us who look in shock, Sam goes and grabs the phone as we huddle around Pamela

“I can’t see” she sobs me and Bobby looking at each other confused, what the hell just happened and who’s castiel?

[jdeanmorgan]

if you are willing to share, what is one of your most favorite dark fics??

well... normally i wouldn't entertain the idea of posting my faves on here bc you know... it can get depraved but honestly i don't care anymore so let's do this.

i know you're most likely looking to know my fave 9-1-1 ones but i'll also add a few from other fandoms.

disclaimer: i will not tolerate any hate for any of these fics i'm about to say I like/love. My tastes have always been depraved, and will continue to be depraved.. That said, I will say to heed the tags, and mind the trigger warnings!!!

These are in no particular order btw, now without further ado, here are some of my faves that i've read.

9-1-1 FICS:

Morning's Echo ★ BuckMaddie ★ 3K ★ ➢ this is an incest fic. they're only two years apart in age in this one. I think the dynamic was very interesting, and i defo wish this had been longer, let me know more about their past and how they became entangled like this.

The Long Way Home ★ Buck-centric ★ 100K ★ sequel here ★ ➢ during the tsunami, Buck is kidnapped by a sexual trafficking ring and forced into sex work. this is basically his journey from when he's kidnapped to when he's rescued, with some glimpses of how the 118 handles it all, multiple pov's. there's things I love about this fic and things I don't, but ultimately, I would consider it a fave because I really couldn't put it down. I think I read all of it in like... a day or two.

The Way You Did (Once Upon a Dream) ★ Buddie ★ 2K ★ ➢ Sleeping Beauty curse. Buck is in a coma, or in a deep sleep, or however it worked in sleeping beauty, and Eddie has to take it too far to wake him up. the writing is really good, and i am still awaiting a sequel so we can see the aftermath. (rape/noncon)

will you hit me where it hurts (i won't feel anything otherwise) ★ Buddie ★ 18K ★ ➢ Buck is a serial killer. Eddie has an encounter with him. very interesting and well written. I don't wanna say anything more than this lest I spoil anything.

still ★ Buddie ★ 9K ★ ➢ Eddie steps into a trigger. Has to stay still. He and Buck grapple with the fact he might die that day.

hurt locker ★ Buddie ★ 77K ★ ➢ I personally don't really consider this a dark!fic per se, but I still think it's emotionally heavy and packs a punch at times. Buck and Eddie are childhood friends, and when Shannon gets pregnant, Buck enlists along with Eddie.

Broken Like Me ★ BuckBobby ★ 15K ★ ➢ Buck and Bobby meet a year before Buck is assigned to the 118, and neither of them have good coping mechanisms. I genuinely really enjoyed this fic, and how it explored their dynamic had they met before Bobby was Buck's boss, and it's take on Buck's 1.0 days.

Eight Drinks a-Roofied ★ Buck-Centric ★ 21K ★ ➢ shows how Buck's gotten roofied eight times. what can I say, it was a fun read for me.

desire, i'm hungry (I hope you feed me) ★ BuckMaddie ★ 5K ★ ➢ Maddie has never had an orgasm. Buck is the one to change that. Very hot fic.

the devil wants to fuck me ★ BuckJosh★ 4K ★ ➢ Josh blackmails Buck into sex.

Get Down, Make Love ★ BuckBobby★ 5K ★ ➢ A/B/O fic. Bobby and Buck are dosed with a drug that induces their heat/rut to kick in. They fuck it out. s1 era.

Trust me, Darlin’ ★ Buck/Dean, Buddie ★ 77K ★ ➢ this was honestly just a really fun read. a 911/spn crossover fic where dean "kidnaps" buck. they have hot ambulance sex. very very fun fic overall.

SUPERNATURAL FICS:

With Understanding ★ Destiel ★ 427K ★ ➢ Sam is dead. Dean's told that Castiel Novak is his soulmate by Anna (the angel that rescued him from hell in this universe) and he decides to kidnap Castiel so they can meet and thus know they will share a heaven. this is genuienly my favorite dark fic. hands down one of the best i've ever read.

They Think I'm Possessed ★ JohnDean, Wincest ★ 27K ★ ➢ John decides to make Dean a replacement for Mary. Dean becomes Sam's mommy, and John's partner. He's essentially John's housewife and Sam's mother. I don't wanna give anything away but this was literally so well written and I read it all in one sitting, I could not put it down, it was so disturbing and depraved and I loved every second of it.

Ninety One Whiskey ★ Destiel ★ 401K ★ ➢ Castiel and Dean are both soldiers in WW2 in the same infantry. Dean is a medic, and if i remember correctly, Castiel is a sergeant. very well written, very slow burn, very good. haven't read it in years though, i just remember it really being good.

Fever Where You Run To ★ JohnDean ★ 3,9K ★ ➢ John gets hit with a lust spell / sex pollen. He either has to fuck it out or die. Dean offers himself up. (John has been having inappropriate thoughts about dean for years at this point, though)

mother is pretending ★ Wincest ★ 19K ★ ➢ basically them developing a mommy kink in the course of season 2. i am not into mommy kink, but i absolutely loved this fic. that's saying something.

because you want to die for love ★ Wincest ★ 27K ★ ➢ Sam joins Dean in heaven after the finale of s15. Dean slowly but surely starts to accept that he can want and have Sam. Originally I wasn't gonna but this in the list but there's just two scenes that I was like giggling, kicking my feet, twirling my hair all teehee. So good. Very well written, too.

ONE DIRECTION FICS:

The Truth Shall Set You Free ★ Ziam ★ 34K ★ ➢ They're lawyers and enemies and they have to solve a crime together.

Birds in Gilded Cages ★ Larry ★ 157K ★ ➢ Harry got kidnapped as a teen and forced into sex work. Louis becomes a client. they fall in love. brutal and dark but i routinely read the last chapter bc I love certain scenes in that one.

Love Will Tear Us Apart ★ Larry ★ 103K ★ ➢ I don't remember much about this one, I just remembered really liking it and how it showed that you can make mistakes and be flawed and still come together and forgive and be happy together.

Run Like the Devil ★ Larry ★ 139K ★ ➢ Harry is a demon. Louis is a hunter. Can I make it any more obvious?

at last, at last ★ Larry ★ 41K ★ ➢ Harry is born into a cult in a post-apocalyptic world, and Louis is the leader of the rebel group tasked with the mission of shutting them down. Together, they make a rather effective team.

once upon a dream ★ Larry ★ 33K ★ sequel here ★ ➢ Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

Landslide ★ Larry ★ 143K ★ ➢ a true fave of mine. I also routinely reread this one. Harry goes undercover to try and uncover what's going on on Louis' farm. Louis is the cult leader. It's so interesting and well written.

A Tear in the Sky ★ OT4 ★ 27K ★ ➢ Niall Horan is a consultant on cases that need a personal touch, someone to get close to prey and predators alike to discover the truth, and he's eager for the chance to work with old acquaintance Zayn Malik at Station Twelve. His attitude shifts when he discovers what waits for him is more than just three boys caught in the midst of a cult. A tight deadline presses on him to complete his report, yet the more he learns about the unique dynamic between these three, the more he starts to question his own sanity. Professionalism is hard to hold onto as the case and Niall's mind begin to unravel.

GLEE FICS:

A Political Romance / A Legal Romance ★ Klaine ★ 119K / 216K ★ ➢ Blaine has this darkness in him, a power of sorts. He sees Kurt and instantly falls for him and decides that Kurt will be his. Hard to explain this one but it did have a chokehold on me when I first read it as a wee teenager first discovering fanfiction. 10/10!

Dead in Ohio ★ Puckurt ★ 93K ★ ➢ zombie apocalypse. Kurt and Puck are stuck with each other and they fall in love. kinda enemies to lovers but also kinda not. this is a fic that I have not reread in years due to the actor who plays puck. but it's still a good fic and I wanted to include it for that reason.

[chuckwon]

Here's Why I Want A Chuck Won Plot For The Sequel

Not to go the off about this on a random Saturday night or anything, but I have not stopped internally vibrating since the SPNWIN finale because the potential for a Chuck Won sequel plot line feels so implied and therefore so close I can taste it. I know that there are several people who don't like it as an explanation for the ending of season 15, and/or several people who don't like the idea of it being used as a sequel plot in the future. So I would just like to talk about why I, personally, am passionate about wanting them to use this particular avenue to move forward.

I'll likely unavoidably repeat some of the things I've said before elsewhere but... fuck it, I'm in my feelings, I want to get this out. Rambling on or whatever.

For the sake of clarity, here's a reminder of the POV I'm writing from: A) that Chuck's victory is canonically what was deliberately written as the plot of season 15, B) that it's meant to be noticeable and pointed out as tragic, and C) that even if you argue about the semantics of the literal order of events in the plot that add up to that result, Chuck's victory in some fashion is still the byproduct of the story's final execution.

The thing that I feel can and does get lost in a lot of fandom discussions about this concept is... D) the fact that Chuck winning is an allegory for and commentary on censorship.

I will go back to that. Follow me here.

With SPNWIN as a whole and especially the season one finale, we have already gotten step one of something incredibly subversive: it culminated very loudly in making it clearly canonical that Dean is some semblance of trapped. He is not happy, he is not at peace, he is not done. These are things that many of us in fandom who have brains all already kind of knew and took for granted, because we understand this story and this character and so we understand that 15x20 was not a good ending. But when you step back, what SPNWIN just established is actually a Big Deal in comparison to the fake veneer of happiness that 15x20 was (supposedly) trying to sell to us–and that it did indeed effectively sell to a large number of casual viewers.

Now, here we have canon openly demonstrating that Dean's ending was not okay, in general or to him. Objectively that wasn’t necessarily the case previously with 15x20 alone, but now it is the case.

That is a how-the-turntables level of redefinition of 15x20 in canon. Those crazy bastards fucking did it. They gave Dean Winchester back his agency and had him tell us for 13 episodes that the finale was inarguably Bad, and then they showed his sad grieving self still pining for his happy ending and his angel. That's fucking wild!!! Oh my God!!!

Whew. Okay, anyway:

So SPNWIN has made it clear that The Finale Was Bad, that Dean still needs and wants his happy ending, and that he knows what that happy ending should look like–as demonstrated in this whole hall of mirrors show, through the healing/romance/hope/future we witness the cast of The Winchesters getting to have.

If they stick with that vibe moving forward (which they may not. Continuity could get tossed), to me it then wouldn't make sense if they tried to move forward with any kind of sequel plot or angle that tries to say "okay, now Dean really will Find Peace And Be Done In Heaven." Because they seem to have made it clear that Dean doesn't want that. He wants out! He is fucking around and finding out!

To me, the next logical question to tackle in the plot as part of getting Dean back in the game would be this:

Why did those bad things happen to Dean in the finale?

Look, they don't have to answer that question with a plot-driven reason, obviously. They can go with the (boring) angle of nihilism that's basically like "Yeah Dean died and it sucked, but shit happens and that’s part of free will. It was an unlucky situation :/ he should get another chance at life though!" Or they can absolutely do something totally wacky and out of left field to explain lmfao. (I mean, hell, the Akrida were out of left field and that was only lessened when they tied them back to Chuck.)

Orrrrr.

They could go with a plot that's SOMETHING along the lines of explaining how Dean’s death and the fracturing of their family feels like an injustice to him because it is, and that shit did not just Happen, and that it wasn’t just arbitrary bad luck but rather he didn’t get his happy ending because Something Else was going on pulling the strings at least a little bit.

In that sense, Chuck- / Jack-related fuckery feels like the next natural through-line to me. I'm aware I'm heavily biased, but I want them to go all in on that angle so badly, and the point of this post (yes, there is a point!) is that I want to tell you why I want that.

The strength in the potential of an explicit Chuck won storyline in a continuation–other than the fact that it would be damn good television–is that, if done correctly, it would explain why the ending of season 15 sucked in the first place. And it would explain it not only in-narrative but also out-of-narrative.

Chuck exists to act as allegory, and that's what has always made this concept so significant, subversive, and compelling. Chuck's function and purpose is to be an allegory for producers and/or network executives, and thus the function and purpose behind a Chuck won storyline is to reveal the controlling forces of those figures. And because Chuck is the personification of the Original Creator's intentions that the characters are trying to supersede and defy, the fact that at the end of season 15 they do not get to grow beyond those intentions–aka the fact that Chuck wins and they don't get their full freedom–is indicative of the fact that the characters were not "free" or allowed to defy the Original Creator's real-world intentions either.

The idea that Chuck won is not simply a fun view on why the finale sucks or a fun plot idea for the future. It's because Supernatural is a censored queer text and higher forces won largely because Destiel was not allowed to be explicitly reciprocal. A pillar of the argument is that there could be no happy ending without Destiel; reciprocal Destiel was not allowed, and so the characters had to lose.

That is still the state of canon right now. Chuck's victory is amongst the many threads season 15 left dangling to potentially pick up and play with moving forward, and they don't HAVE to pick that thread up and make it into a central plot for a continuation. But if they do... Man. If they do, it would open the ending of season 15 to further examination for anyone who cares enough to pay attention to it, and that would also open up commentary on the censorship that caused it in the first place.

Here's what I mean:

SPNWIN has left us in a place consistent with 15x19, seemingly further highlighting that something is wrong with Jack. That's huge. Whether that "something" is Chuck possessing him or–potentially more likely–that the God power Jack absorbed has corrupted him, the point is that Jack needs to be freed because Chuck's influence endures.

Making the Akrida into a Chuck fail safe has already leaned into that idea, in a way. Even if Chuck is "gone," his influence wasn't gone entirely. The characters were not fully and entirely free from Chuck's lasting effects on the universe that they inhabit.

But now with the destruction of the Akrida, those effects are supposedly gone. But what if they actually aren't gone completely? What if something is wrong with Jack? What could that mean for Dean's story specifically and the happy ending he still wants and needs?

Apply that to the allegory: if Chuck's power has possessed or corrupted Jack, then Chuck's enduring influence that the characters still have to wrestle with becomes about the enduring influence of industry censorship.

It's then about the insidiousness of the forces that make it difficult for writers to let their stories and characters grow out of what was originally meant for them, especially when those stories are not meant to be queer narratives and yet are molded to have queerness centralized. It's about saying... you (the writers + characters) thought you'd be able to get free but you couldn't; you thought you could write the happy ending but you still haven't gotten to. How have higher forces twisted and shaped things into something unrecognizable? How do you make it back from that and rid the story of that negative influence once and for all?

Hypothetically, examining what Chuck's enduring influence fucked up in the story would then have to examine what censorship fucked up in real life. If they have to break out and return to reality, what does that look like? What is revealed? Dean and Cas could not reunite because their love was real and threatened Chuck's enforced unreality. Dean died and Sam got an apple pie life because that was always part of the ending Chuck wanted to see. Jack was taken over and/or corrupted by God power as part of Chuck's plan because he was powerful enough to help unite them all as a family, which threatened the classic "brothers only" focus of Chuck's story. Chuck's power was still personified in Jack and influencing the outcomes and that's why all of this tragedy occurred. They have to reunite, break the cycle, heal their family, and save Jack while getting rid of that personified God power once and for all, releasing it back into their universe so that power is now in everyone/everything rather than concentrated in overseeing forces threatening their freedom.

And when Chuck is an allegory for the censoring forces in real life... for anyone who cares to engage their brain cells, this could then make it abundantly clear(er) that the end of season 15 was not simply ~bad writing~ or ~cowardice~. It would retroactively redeem, explain, and redefine Supernatural's original "ending" as a backed-into-a-corner narrative gamble embedded with the ability to shine light on the source of its problems, the hope that in the future the story could be continued, and the keys to give the characters justice especially in regards to the queer narrative.

You can look me in the eyes and tell me you don't think that would absolutely rock, but then I will have to simply agree to disagree with you.

Because I would very much like to fucking see it.

It is literally ALL RIGHT THERE. It's THERE, it's so close, and this story could reach its highest potential and make several lasting, impressive points in the cultural realm for anyone who gets their heads out of their ass and stops ridiculing it or stops layering their interest in it under 1000 levels of irony long enough to look at how special it is!!!

[shakes the table with my hands]

AAAAAAAA

Okay, sorry, I'm devolving. But in conclusion: I want this. And though the prequel seems to be hinting towards it (QUITE LOUDLY), there is of course absolutely zero guarantee that any mysterious future sequel would go in that direction for several reasons, let alone the fact that it's objectively a ballsy as hell approach to take.

I still want to write a very long meta about The Winchesters' overall themes and its Chuck won propaganda (lol), so uhhh I reserve the right to plagiarize myself in the future from this post for that purpose. But I had to get this specific thought out sooner rather than later because, to be honest, I am simply going bananas.

JENSEN ACKLES, GIVE ME ONE PHONE CALL WITH YOU LOCKED UNDER AN NDA. PLEASE. PERCEIVE THE VISION.

[ghost-facer]

Dean isn’t exactly sure why he kisses Cas. He’s been trying to keep that shit in. Besides, it’s not his fault the angel is so damn irresistible. This would happen to anyone.

The Hunt had been a rare easy one. Spirits are high. They’re in the Impala in a McDonald’s parking lot. They’re waiting on Sam and Jack to come back with the food. It’s just past 2am, and there’s only 3 other cars in the lot with them. Big flakes of snow are beginning to fall, twisting and spinning in the streetlights. It’s sticking, and the dark parking lot begins to be covered in white. The world feels empty and small. It’s peaceful.

Dean feels like he’s where he’s supposed to be.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and Cas is staring contentedly out the windshield. His shoulders are relaxed and his back is fully resting against the seat. Dean follows his gaze, and he’s looking at Jack through the glass doors. An unexpected strong happiness strikes through Dean. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have this—to have a family. He’s the least deserving of it, but he’s wanted this so badly for as long as he can remember.

When he looks back at Cas, Cas is already staring at him. His expression is soft and fond and a little wistful. His eyes are shining while he wears one of his rare small smiles.

He’s breathtaking.

They’re close. It somehow feels closer than usual. Dean can feel the heat of Cas right next to him. The angel’s lips are right there. How is Dean supposed to resist?

So he doesn’t. He leans into the small space between them and brushes his lips against Cas’.

And then Dean’s brain catches up to him, and he pulls away just as he feels Cas’ stuttered breath ghosting across his own lips. But he doesn’t get far because Cas chases after him. One of his hands cups the back of Dean’s neck, and Dean helplessly leans forward.

Cas is ready for him this time. His lips are open and wet. Their lips slide against each other, and Dean grabs Cas’ lapels to try and pull him impossibly closer. Cas’ hand on Dean’s neck moves up and tangles in his hair.

Dean’s never had a kiss like this. He’s never kissed someone he’s loved this much.

It’s timeless. He doesn’t know how much time has passed. He becomes lost in the taste and feel of Cas. Dean eventually has to pull back for air, but he feels the remainder of his breath leave him when he looks at Cas.

Cas’ hand moves out of his hair to press his palm on Dean’s cheek. He’s looking at Dean like…like…like he lo—

Heat builds behind Dean’s eyes, and he has to look away. He’s not about to cry after a single kiss. He swallows and blinks and then he’s locking eyes with someone.

Jack.

He’s still inside standing by the counter next to Sam waiting to get their order. Sam’s on his phone, his backed turned to Dean. But Jack. Oh, Jack definitely saw that. The kid is fucking beaming.

Dean says, voice hoarse, “Jack saw that.” He sees Cas turn out of the corner of his eye.

“O-oh.”

And, fuck, Cas sounds breathless.

From the kiss.

From Dean.

And it’s all a little much at once, and Dean can’t fight the random giggle that bubbles out of him.

“Dean?”

Dean hears himself say, “We kissed.” And then he’s blushing and ducking his head like he’s fucking fifteen. He chances a glance at Cas who’s grinning down at his hands in his lap, and his cheeks look just as pink as Dean’s feel.

Impulsively, Dean reaches over to squeeze one of Cas’ hands. Cas latches on, and Dean darts his eyes up to be greeted with Cas’ blue ones. He can’t stop smiling.

Then one of the back doors opens quickly followed by the other. The cold snowy air gets inside, and Sam is shoving Dean’s food up to him. He has to let Cas’ hand go to grab it. As he reaches for the food, he meets Jack’s eyes, and the kid shoots him the happiest grin. Dean can’t fight the responding blush and quickly grabs the food and turns back around.

The conversation begins again, but he and Cas keep shooting secret smiles at each other.

He may not know where this is going or exactly what it all means yet, but Dean is so fucking glad he kissed Cas.

[alexsoenomel]

That Summer Dress (Dean Winchester x Reader smut)

Summary: You have to wear a dress for a case and Dean really likes it *wink*

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: psychotic ghost and sexy times (BJ’s and big O’s) 

Word count: 3104

Note: I wrote this in 2019. Enjoy! Like/Reblog or both if you like it! :)

“Do you really have to use me as bait?“ I asked while my will to live was slowly leaving my body and soul.

“Hey the ghost likes to kill girls and since both of us have dicks...” Dean said but I cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Case in a nutshell: Not so long ago a serial killer named Ted Bundy existed and he liked to kill women, saying hardcore pornography made him do it (Dean to that: “Yeah right.”). Well, turns out the world is even more fucked up than I thought; he had a fan. A fan so dedicated to keep his notorious legacy alive, he made sure not to cross over when he dies; and he died 10 years ago. He liked to kill pretty girls in fucked up ways, the similarities between his MO and Ted’s were uncanny. His main preference, were girls who wore pretty dresses. After he would kill them, he would keep the dresses, sick bastard. Some say he would put on the dress of his first victim, his wife, every time he would kill. We burnt the body but he was still in his house. So, naturally we decided to go there and see what’s keeping him here, in Tacoma, Washington.

It was 6pm and time for us to get to work. This shitty motel room was slowly driving me mad; I was ready to kick something.

“Are you guys ready?” I asked putting on my backpack.

“(Y/N) are you forgetting something?” Dean then asked me. 

“What?”

“You said it yourself he likes girls in dresses.” Sam said.

Oh shit.

“You really want me to wear a dress? REALLY?”

Dean jokingly told me I would have to wear a dress and also added how hot I would look before we came here; turns out he wasn’t joking. Dean and I were kind of more than just friends. We weren’t together either. Ever since I’ve first met him one night in a bar back home (Lebanon, Kansas) we were drawn to each other. He, of course typical Dean, tried to flirt with me and get in my pants but I wasn’t in the mood. I lost my friend to a vampire that day and I was grieving, with whiskey. He started with small talk which I hate more than anything, but because I was attracted to him I gave him a pass and soon after we found common ground. We were in the same business, liked the same music and overall been through a lot of similar crap. Plus he was SO lucky in the gene department; those green eyes and full pink lips were enough to make me want him under/on top of me. That night we talked for what it seemed like forever, about hunting, life, everything...that night I saw his true colors and he saw mine, which was strange for both of us, considering the fact we don’t open up easily and to just anybody. We didn’t fuck that night though. Oh no, after that I haven’t seen him in 3 long months. He was busy trying to find his angel friend Castiel and nephilim named Jack; and I was busy hunting werewolves in Los Angeles. We would text each other every once in a while but that was it, before, he one day called me asking if I want to join him and his little brother. Of course I said yes. That was and still is one of the greatest discussions I have ever made. Ever since my friend died I’ve been hunting alone and the loneliness was killing me. I still miss her terribly. It was nice having company like Sam and Dean. Sam soon became that friend everyone wishes to have; the one who takes care of you and is always there if you have a problem and Dean, well Dean was your friend’s hot brother you desperately wanted to bang. And I did...one drunken night when we were left alone. Sam was the one who needed to clear his head so he went for a long walk and Dean and I were left to do research for our next case. We were a little hard on that bottle of whiskey Dean had bought that day so we did anything but that. When Sam got back he found us both collapsed in Dean’s bed naked (thank god we were covered with a sheet). The next day was pretty awkward for him. Poor Sammy...

I don’t even remember what we did; I just know he gave me the most amazing orgasm I’ve ever had. It was mind-blowing. We haven’t really gotten a chance to talk about it since we have been working 24/7, so this brings us to now... I get jealous every time a girl even looks at Dean in a way I don’t like, and Dean is the same. One time when a guy bought me a drink, Dean just drank it instead of me. So we were friends but there was something more to it...

Back to reality...

“If you want us to get rid of that son of a bitch yeah.” Dean said with an obvious smug on his face.

“But I don’t have one.” I said giving him a bitch face. “I don’t wear dresses.”

“We will go and buy one then.” Sam said.

“Great.” A sarcastic comment was a necessity for me.

Because I was going to wear a dress I decided to put my hair in a pony tail and do my makeup. Well, mascara was the only thing I carried, so put mascara on. We went to a nearest shop where I found the most beautiful summer dress. A little above the knees, white with flowers all over it, covering all the right places, it suited me perfectly. Dean approved as well. When he saw me leaving the shop his jaw hit the floor. He was waiting with Sam outside drinking coffee and almost choked on it. My ego was rising faster than the bulge in his pants.

“What do you think?” I asked them.

“It suits you.” Sam said.

“Nice.” Dean added swallowing nervously. “Okay let’s get to work.”

While Dean was driving I could feel him eyeballing me in the rear-view mirror as much as he could. That man was slowly going mad and I loved it. I hoped this dress lands me a naked Dean Winchester after this case.

When we finally arrived to his house I got chills down my spine. I felt his presence and I was still in the car. When we went inside on the other hand, I felt like I couldn’t breathe, he was there waiting for me. Maybe that’s how he killed all those girls over the years, he was calling for me to go to his bedroom.

“He’s in the bedroom.” I whispered.

“How do you know?” Sam asked tightening the grip around his shotgun. Both, him and Dean had shotguns with rock salt shot rounds while I was stuck with an iron crowbar.

“He’s telling me to come there. Sick bastard.”

“What a ladies’ man.” Dean  added.

Because I was the bait in this whole operation I was the first to enter the room. It was one of those typical bedrooms that you see in horror movies; all wooden, unreasonably tidy and clean with...so many dolls in dresses watching your every move. It was a room of nightmares. Just being in there made the Winchesters and me uncomfortable.

“Now, this guy had a lot of issues.” I heard Dean say, and he was right.

 In that moment I felt someone or something grab my throat which resulted in me dropping the crowbar. He was here. He was old probably in his sixties, gray hair, and psychotic written all over his face and in old dirty clothes. He was tightening the grip around my neck as I felt oxygen leave my brain. “Pretty dress.”- Was the last thing I heard followed by a gunshot before passing out.

****

“Hey (Y/N) are you okay?”

“(Y/N) wake up!”

Dean said a little bit louder as I opened my eyes completely oblivious of what went down.

“Where’s the ghost?”

“We took care of it.” Sam said.

“For real? Is he going to come back?”

“No, turns out the bastard was attached to the dress of the first girl he killed, his wife.” Dean stated. 

“Figures. But where did you find the dress?”

“Sam found it in a glass box in his living room.”

“Oh...wow...Okay, you’re never using me as bait ever again.” Still a little disoriented I gathered all the strength I had in that moment to get up. Dean helped me of course, being a gentleman, not taking his eyes off me.

“Gotcha!” He said.

*****

    When we finally got back to the motel Sam decided he was going to go grocery shopping for the trip back home and later go to a bar. I thought Dean was going to go as well so I can shower and hit the sack (the trip back home was going to last 24 hours and I wasn’t  not much of a sleeper while being on the road because I could never get comfortable) but he decided to stay with me. Maybe now we can finally talk about that night and establish what we are.

When Sam left I couldn’t help but feel a little bit nervous. I have wanted to talk about this with Dean for so long, constantly thinking about what I will say and how I will approach the subject and now that moment was here and I was scared shitless. I didn’t do that kind of shit, at all. I would usually just sleep with a guy and leave. I don’t have time for relationships nor commitment and Dean was the only one pushing those barely touched buttons (last real relationship I had was back in high school and it didn’t end well; the asshole cheated).

“I thought you are going with Sam to get drunk?” I asked nervously wanting to start a conversation.

“Nah, I can do that here...” He said smirking. “With you.”

Oh...  

“Are you trying to tell me something, Dean?” I asked trying to act confident. God, he was driving me crazy.

“You know what exactly I’m trying to tell you babe.” He said after he took a sip from the beer bottle he opened seconds before. I on the other hand was standing inches away from him leaning against the wall because I was too afraid my knees would give up and I would hit the floor. His voice, his face....his everything....UGH. He was making me feel like I’m 15 and hormonal again. He then proceeded to get even closer to me, eyeballing every inch of me in that dress; practically stripping me naked with his eyes. He put the bottle on the table and went towards me, he was so close I could see every line, freckle and bump on his face. Plus those green eyes...not possible to describe the beauty of them. His right hand was above me while the other found a way to my thigh slowly but surely dragging his fingertip across my skin, slowly lifting my dress. He pinned me down against the wall while I was trying not to completely lose it and tear his clothes off.

“That dress looks perfect on you.” He said.

“You’re not subtle with your eyeballing at all, you know?” As I said that his hand went a little higher slowly brushing his fingers across my already wet panties making me gasp a little and spread my legs. He knew how to open “the gates of heaven” as he called them. Cheeky...

“I couldn’t help it; I was barely controlling myself back there.” He stated as he pressed his forehead against mine. “My dick was so hard when I saw you, it hurt like a bitch.” And then boom, his fingers went in my panties immediately finding my clit and slowly rubbing me with his thump. Holy shit...I forgot just how much I missed his touch. I let out a moan while my eyes never left his. The air was filled with lust and nothing but lust. I couldn’t wait for him to devour me whole.

“Glad you enjoyed the view.” I managed to say. I decided today was my day to play though. I wanted to be in charge so badly so I took his hand out of my panties, kissed his cheek, barely touching the skin, and went to my bed. He followed me like a puppy. I took off my dress reveling my white bra and white panties (and no there were not matching but who cares).

“Is it just me or did you get even hotter?” He asked eyes wide open. He was like a child after Christmas morning. I smiled as my confidence was sky high and pushed him onto the bed. Positioning myself on his lap I pulled on his shirt telling him to lift himself up so I could kiss him. As soon as he did I crashed my lips onto his, and my tongue entered in his mouth, exploring, biting and teasing the shit out of him. My hands were in his hair pulling slightly as his hands went onto my hips desperately trying to tell me to move. I started off with little trusts as my lips attacked his neck. Pretty sure I left many love bites.

“God, I want you.” He said pulling my pony tail to look at me. “You’re driving me crazy woman!”

“Just doing my job, sir.” I said playfully.

Suddenly I found myself in Dean’s arms in the air before he dropped me onto the bed. Wasting no time he took off his clothes, boxers included and boy oh boy how my lungs stopped working. I was in a trance looking at this perfect man who was about to sin with me.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yeah?” I asked while my eyes were on his hard dick scanning every vain and practically drooling.

“Why are you still dressed?”

“Oh...”

Taking off my underwear he took my face and kissed me as he his body was on top of mine. It looked like he thought he was gonna be in charge...oh honey. My hand went and grabbed his dick as I broke the kiss to look at him. He looked at me with confusion all over his face as I said: “My turn.”

He melted instantly. I knew he liked it when someone bosses him around in bed and gives him “sexy rules”-not so long ago we got drunk (like we usually do on a Sunday night) and talked about sex. Before I completely blacked out I remembered him saying something about him being a sub while his brother was laughing his butt off. Poor guy was too drunk to see his brother sitting sober as a bird in the library reading a book.

“Oh...” He managed to say as I pushed him back onto the bed. I kissed every inch of him; lips, neck, collarbones, biting here and there; stomach, going lower and lower. He was breathing heavily, before I reached his dick and licked the tip first; then he lost his mind. He grabbed my pony tail as I took him all in my mouth, moving slowly up and down. Because I didn’t have gag reflex I could take him whole with ease.  Every time I reached the tip I would vacuum slightly making him moan. Those moans were the hottest thing I have ever heard.

“God, that feels so good.” He said trying to stay sane but failing.

I did that a few times before going back up and kissing him again. He was in shock, it looks like he didn’t expect for me to stop. “I don’t want you to cum just yet.” I said.

“Ugh.”

“I love when you’re frustrated.” I giggled.

“I hope it amuses you because it’s killing me.”

I decided to stop playing around and positioned myself on top of his tip as I sat down with ease.  His facial expression changed immediately as I slowly started to move, riding him.

“ Fuck.” He cussed.

Deep breaths and moans filled the room, his hands were on my hips and mine were on my boobs cupping them; preventing them from jumping up and down (It hurts like a bitch after). He begged me to speed up soon after moaning my name over and over again. I could see he wasn’t going to last much longer which exited me because I was close too. Considering the fact I prefer when a man is on top of me this was AMAZING. He was hitting all the right places and I was in heaven.

“Dean I’m close!” I yelled.

“I’m too...oh god.”

Jumping up and down on him I could feel my orgasm approaching. I felt like million bucks as he came first after hitting my g-spot so hard I lost my shit and came after him. I was shaking and couldn’t feel my legs as I collapsed next to him.

“Holy shit.” I said panting.

“What was...” He was still trying to catch his breath.

“Mind-blowing?”

“Best sex I ever had.” He added.

“I think I came so hard my body is dead. I can’t feel my legs at all...nor arms.” I said smiling like an idiot.

“I was that good, huh?” Dean asked with a big ass grin on his face.

“Yes.” 

It finally hit me that we still haven’t had the talk. I really wanted to know where I was with him.

“Hey, um...what are we?” I finally spilled out.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we are friends but we also fuck like animals and get jealous if someone flits with our fuck buddy but-“ I was cut off by his lips on mine. This kiss was different though. It was like he was trying to show me just how much he cared about me; it was much more loving and not driven by lust.

“You’re not just my fuck buddy.” He said breaking the kiss. “I really like you. I haven’t felt like this in a very long time, and I’m scared with the life we live what’s gonna happen but I’m willing to try if you’re too.”

“You know my answer.” I just said and kissed him.

Too bad we didn’t have time for round two because Sam came back early for some reason and found us both naked in my bed. Poor moose was traumatized for the next 2 weeks.    

[wastemanjohn]

helloooo bottom!john truther and enjoyer and apologist and whatnot here. can we please please please get john fucked on his hands and knees by another hunter in exchange for information/weapons/help on a hunt? (extra extra love if dean or sam is aware of it & has to keep their mouth shut but feels TERRIBLE)

Thanks for the prompt Angel, I loved this idea. I wrote this very quickly so I hope it's alright!

cw: extremely dubious consent, pretend sam's already 18, nsft

Most kids Sam's age are at parties tonight. Celebrating the start of spring break, trashing the houses of unsuspecting parents and throwing up on each other's shoes. You know, normal stuff.

Sam? Sam barely set foot out of the school gate before Dad was upon him, ushering him into his truck, spewing precious few, undetailed words about some urgent job down south, Dean already on the way, everything so urgent - and yeah, it's not like Sam has ever been invited to one of those parties. Honestly, nothing about them even sounds appealing. But just for once, for once, he'd give anything to be at one of them. To be somewhere normal, doing something normal. Anything that's not sitting in Dad's truck with hair metal thrumming low on the radio, waiting in some low-lit motel parking lot for Dad to do some shady sounding business with some shady sounding sounding hunter. Something about silver bullets. Something about best quality, last minute, no one else holding. And something - something off.

Dad's been gone a while. He said he'd be a few minutes, but that could be hours in Dadspeak, because he never says what he means - and it's just one of the many big and small resentments snowballing in Sam's head with all the others that made a home there during the six hour drive down here. Dad's inability to keep one radio station on for more than two minutes. Dad's little pop quizzes on various monsters, with no sign of him actually telling Sam what they're hunting right now, because that would make too much sense. Dad's too-fast driving, his chain smoking, and the car stinks, Sam's hair stinks, even with the windows right down - and Sam sits in the passengers' seat, he waits for Dad, he's always waiting around for Dad, and he's trying to read a book, trying to pass the time, but his eyes are strained in the low light and his mind just won't focus and he keeps getting distracted. He absently watches the neon signs for air conditioning and cable TV flicker, hears their low buzz. There's a sad, wilted palm tree outside the reception. The door is open, leaving a cutting rectangle of grainy light on the ground, and somewhere, someone is shouting, because in motels, someone is always somewhere, shouting.

And this feeling growing like mould in the bottom of Sam's gut, this weird feeling that's starting to supersede that constant feeling of unfair-unjust that lives in Sam like blood; this feeling that his common sense tells him is stupid. But his intuition disagrees, it's kicking up a fuss, and he hasn't been able to settle since Dad got out of the car.

Because maybe there was something off about Dad's energy that fizzled with those weary neon lights; and Dad still didn't say much, and Sam still can't read the man's mind, but you don't live for eighteen years close enough to rub up against each others last nerve without learning how to spot when something might be wrong. And theres always something wrong with Dad - he's sour faced and miserable, the cause of that changes day by day - but he'd been so insistent. You don't leave this car, Sammy, okay? This guy's a loose cannon. I don't want him to see you.

Sam had snorted, and Dad had looked at him with resigned contempt; but it had faded quickly, and there'd been that something Sam couldn't put his finger on as Dad had got out of the car. Something about the way he didn't look to check Sam was obeying, something stilted in his footsteps. Something that made Sam log the path he took across the parking lot, register the room number he knocked on. The door had opened, and Dad had gone inside, but it had closed so quickly that Sam hadn't been able to see the guy. The loose cannon.

Sam didn't bother asking to go with anyway, because Dad would have said no. He didn't feel much like arguing and insisting at the time, because he was pissed about the quizzing-smoking-Dadness of the entire miserable journey up here. But the longer Dad doesn't come out, that something-weird-not-right feeling gets bigger.  Loose cannon could mean anything, absolutely anything. I don't want him to see you - that phrase is really gaining traction in Sam's head. Why not? And what the hell is taking so long?

The thing is, Sam knows some hunters aren't - well - right. He knows it from the things Dean tells him with dark glee, from the way Bobby has warned him to trust anyone in this life very, very cautiously. Dad has always told him not to trust anyone at all, but Dad is paranoid and thinks in extremes, and Sam never listens to him all that much.

As time rolls on, right now increasingly becomes no different.

There's a pistol in the glove compartment. He conceals it at the small of his back, and glances around like he's being watched as he gets out of the car.

He's worried. He's only a little worried, because Dad's only been gone a little longer than reasonable, and this is stupid anyway; and Sam's only a little worried because Sam's not letting himself be scared, Dad's fine, he's always fine, and Sam is not letting images of Dad stabbed or shot by one of these not-right, untrustworthy loose-cannon hunters flood his mind until he's sick with panic - and he moves quietly but quickly across the parking lot, takes the path Dad had followed, expecting him to emerge from that quick-open-shut door any moment and chew Sam out for disobeying a direct order. Sam would welcome it. He'd let Dad smoke and fidget as much as he wanted for the rest of the journey, he wouldn't bitch about it once, he'd sit shotgun and he'd be the best, most obedient kid in the world, whether Dad deserved that or not. So long as Dad was okay, so long as Sam knew he was safe.

He stops outside the door, dead of night quiet; he can't hear anything from inside. His heart beats out strange rhythms. He's sure this is the right room. The curtains are drawn over windows bordered by flecks of mould. They're ill fitting, don't quite come down all the way.

Sam swallows. There's a tremor in his hands. Maybe Dad and this guy went elsewhere. Maybe Dad's slumped over the bed with a knife in his back, on the floor with his brains all over the wall. Or maybe Sam has just got the wrong room. Only one way to be sure.

He draws a breath, cool-spring night air. Touches the concealed pistol for comfort as he crouches down to peer beneath the crack in the curtains. Braces himself for what he might see, all the awful things he's gone from avoiding truly considering to entirely convinced of.

His heart rate kicks up faster. Then stops. He can't see everything through the crack beneath the curtains. He can see more than enough.

He can see an unmade bed with holes in the frame. He can see Dad on that bed, on his hands and knees. He can see two hands on Dad's bare hips, his jeans hanging loose halfway down his thighs, open belt swinging in rhythm with - oh, god.

The curtain cuts the guy off at the waist. He's much the same - clothes only off as much as convenience requires - but Sam can see enough thigh, enough hip, to know that he's younger, possibly much closer to Sam's age than Dad's. Sam doesn't know why that makes it worse, but it does.

His hand quivers around the gun. He's frozen with shock, with this innate gut-deep disgust at seeing his father being, doing... and with anger too, at Dad, for giving Sam some sinister, hard to decipher warning to keep him away so he could apparently get his fucking rocks off. With a guy. A younger guy. And on the job as well - but then again, that doesn't really sound like Dad.

And maybe getting angry is easier than considering what's in front of him, because the longer Sam stands there, frozen, disgust, what-the-fuck - the more weird this gets.

Dad is - Dad's very still. Rigid, unnerving still. His back is slightly arched, and his hands are flat on the mattress, bunching the sheets between fingers that are bloodless at the knuckles. His face - god, Sam doesn't want to look at his face, not right now, not for this - but Dad is - well, clearly not enjoying himself. His eyes are open, focused on the wall ahead like he's zoned out. His nostrils are flaring faintly. His mouth is in a tight line, somewhere between a grimace and a fixed wince. He looks - irritated, is the closest Sam can come to describing it. Impatient.

His body moves like it's weightless with the force of the hunter's thrusts. His - and Sam doesn't mean to look, but it's kinda hard not to see - Dad's dick is soft. Hanging limp and sad between his legs.

Sam's guts twist, shooting bile to the back of his throat. Fuck, no kid wants to see that. Sam could've gone his whole life without ever knowing what that looked like, what any of this looked like. Without having to consider, with his bones locked together, what he might be seeing.

The guy looks not only younger, but smaller. There's no gun to Dad's head, no knife to his throat. If Dad didn't want to be there - exactly there - well. This guy would be the one bleeding out with a knife on his back. Then why does Dad look - well - like that?

Unless he's being threatened in some other way. Unless Sam is standing here gawping while Dad's in genuine danger, not knowing what the fuck to do. He feels paralyzed, and utterly confused.

Sam's eyes stray to the guy's nightstand. There's a bag there, a brown, straw-like bag with a pattern Sam recognizes. The bags silver bullets sometimes come in, which is all Sam knows, they sometimes come like that, because he doesn't think much about where they do come from. He'd forgotten all about the bullets.

Next to it, Dad's gun.

A disembodied hand comes down on the back of his father's neck, a fierce grip. Dad's brow knits. And for all Sam couldn't hear anything through the door, he's certain he can hear everything now. Grunts, pants. Loud, like they're exaggerated; and as that hand pushes Dad's face into the mattress, Sam definitely hears the slap to Dad's ass, even more clearly than he sees it. Dad flinches, and Sam feels very glad that he can't see his expression anymore.

His thighs are starting to shake from crouching, but he's shaking anyway. There's a cold layer of sweat breaking out on his skin. He watches those faceless hips stutter, then slam to a stop. Sam can see the disgust shudder through Dad's body. He feels it in his own.

For a moment, nothing happens. No one moves. Sam becomes aware that he's stopped breathing, maybe a while ago.

The guy, the loose cannon, the hunter Dad was nervous about, pulls - he pulls out of Dad. Dad doesn't move. Sam watches half a strange arm reach out, grab the bag on the nightstand. He watches as the guy throws it onto the mattress, watches it land an inch from Dad's face.

Dad flinches again. And then, with slow, creeping horror, Sam thinks he might understand.

That bile-rush returns, burns the back of his throat. There's a part of Sam that would like to believe Dad would never be that desperate, that he'd never - do this, let someone do this - just for fucking supplies. But then again, Dad is Dad. The job comes before everything, and it gets done. No matter the cost.

He thinks about how many times he's seen that specific bag among their possessions. Wonders if - if every time - if Dad has done this every single time...

Sam's knees feel rubbery. He watches the guy get off the bed, leaving Dad on the mattress alone.

Dad doesn't move for a while. Sam stays frozen with him, until finally, he uprights himself onto his knees, slow, heavy, baring his teeth like it hurts. And it must.

It's that thought that spurs Sam to get out of there. His quiet-fast walk back to the truck is unsteady, and his head pulsates in rhythm with his stomach, and it's all he can do not to throw up. His thoughts feel jumbled, his head all over the place. But Sam can at least feel pretty strongly that if he ever finds out who this guy is, he'll kill him. Slowly. Excruciating.

It's rage he can't do much about. He can't exactly express it to Dad, humiliate him like that, because if getting fucked for goddamn bullets isn't bad enough, the thought that his son saw the entire thing, stayed to watch what the hell is wrong with Sam he feels dirty and sick, will no doubt kill him. So Sam cans that rage inside of him, saves it for another day. It'll come out the next time a jock thinks he's an easy target, or during a fight about something unrelated. Although, right now, Sam kind of feels like he can never bring himself to fight with Dad ever again.

He waits for Dad in the passengers seat like he hadn't moved at all. His fingers tremble around the corners of his book. Those lights keep on hissing, hissing.

I don't want him to see you. What had that meant?

Sam thinks he might know.

He wishes he could wipe his memory. He wishes he wouldn't keep thinking about it. He wishes Dean was here.

Dad comes back a short while later. He goes to the trunk first - storing that bag, Sam assumes, the bag that guy had fucking thrown at him - before getting back into the car.

Sam closes his book. Dad reaches for his cigarette on the dashboard. His fingers are unsteady when he lights up. He doesn't say a word, which isn't unusual, because Dad never says much; he smells like Dean does sometimes when he stumbles in at 4am. A hint of something else, something like shame; but Sam's imagining that. Shame doesn't have a smell.

Sam watches him, doesn't quite meet his eyes. He feels out of his depth and very, very young. "Are you okay, Dad?"

He asks it casually, in too small a voice. Dad grunts, non-committal, equally casual. "Let's go find your brother."

Sam nods. It's the best idea he's ever heard. And maybe Dad throws him a glance, a confused glance, at the complete absence of Sam's attitude; but maybe he doesn't acknowledge it, because it's easier for them both if Dad acts like he doesn't suspect a thing.

But the job comes first, so Dad starts the car. That smell lingers.

[startswitheff]

Traditions

Rating: Mature

Relationship: Dean/Cas

Word Count: 7590

Read on Ao3 HERE

“I would like to court you, Dean.”

Dean, who had barely begun his first cup of coffee for the day, was only half-listening. “Wha-?” he mumbled around a mouthful of Choco-Crunch Balls.

Cas waited for Sam to finish quietly choking on his smoothie in the corner before he repeated himself.

“I would like to court you, Dean.”

Dean dropped the spoon, and a small dribble of milk fell off his bottom lip. “O-okay?” Dean met Sam’s eyes from across the room in a desperate glance. “Uh. Thanks, Cas. I’m really flattered and all, but, uh. Why?”

The angel folded his hands neatly in his lap and leaned forward earnestly. “Well, I’ve spent millennia observing human mating rituals, and I know you are a man who believes in family and tradition. Given your affinity for the pseudo-medieval habits practiced in Charlie’s LARP universe, I have decided after much reflection that,” and here Cas paused, seeming uncertain for the first time this morning, “that this would be the best way to-” and here he honest-to-Chuck blushed, “to win your heart.”

“To- win- Dean’s- heart.” Sam had crept over from his perch on the counter and when Dean looked over he could see the bastard barely managing to contain a gleeful grin that was sliding all over his dumb face.

“Yes.” Cas’s answer was firm, but the angel had folded slightly over himself in his chair.

“Um.” Sam took a moment to shove a giggle back down his throat. “Not to nitpick or anything, but, uh-” he looked over at Dean and there was a manic gleam in his smug expression, “don’t you have to, like, announce your intentions to his father and, I dunno, ask permission or something?”

Cas appeared to consider this gravely for a moment, then nodded. “Perhaps, yes. If John Winchester were still alive I would likely have approached him first with the matter.”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. John would never have allowed an angel who was also a man to court his son, geez. Even if he’d been okay with the whole also-liking-dudes-thing - which, Dean was never sure, to be honest - he woulda put paid to any “intentions” with a shotgun to the forehead and an invitation to “get the fuck out.” With a shake of his head, he forced himself back on topic. Which was - he was being courted?

“As he is deceased,” Cas had continued speaking while Dean was processing internally, “I need only approach the head of the household, who, traditionally, is the eldest surviving son. That’s you, Dean,” he added helpfully.

"Yeah, thanks, pal, I picked up on that," Dean muttered, glaring in Sam's direction once more as his brother didn't even bother to try to hide his snigger. 

Castiel nodded solemnly. "Please consider this notification of my intentions, Dean." 

Dean forced himself to nod. "Right. Consider me notified." 

Then, with a flutter of wings and the scent of ozone, Cas was gone. 

Dean had a good almost four seconds of silence in which to try to begin to even remotely process what the ever-loving fuck had just happened to him before Sam burst out into loud guffaws and fell off his chair. 

Dean kicked him with the toe of his boot, but other than whuffing out an "oof" between giggles, Sam was undeterred in his hilarity. 

"Hey, fuck you, Sammy," Dean growled, shoving himself to his feet to start putting away the soggy remains of his forgotten breakfast. 

"Oh my god," Sam panted from the floor, "did you hee-hee, did you hee-hear him?" He wheezed, swooping an arm over his abdomen as if he were in pain. Served him right. "He wants to court you, Dean!" Sam went silent, writhing in paroxysms of mirth that left him completely breathless. There was a good chance he’d asphyxiate in the next thirty seconds, if he were lucky.

Dean stepped over him on his way to the fridge. "Nothin' wrong with my hearing, Sam," he muttered as he shoved the milk back on the shelf. He stared at the contents of the fridge for a few seconds, allowing the cold stale air to bring some semblance of coolness to his overheated face. Why the fuck was he blushing like a maiden here? 

He slammed the door shut and stalked to his room, not pausing until the solid wood of his door blocked out some of the incessant giggling coming from the kitchen. 

This was ridiculous. What the fuck was the angel thinking, saying he wanted to court him? Who said that? And why now, of all times? 

Cas was his best friend, had been almost from the first day he admitted to having doubts and showed Dean he wasn't the dickless robot he'd assumed all angels to be. And yeah, that whole "profound bond" thing had some merit; Dean would never allow some of the liberties Cas took with his personal space from anyone but him. Saving the world together made you take some intimacies for granted, he supposed. 

But courting? For real? 

Read the rest here!

[what-if-i-just-did]

Destiel Prompt List 5. Cas posessing Dean.

Trigger Warnings: mentions of sexual thoughts/masturbation, someone about to die, low self esteem

Space For Two

"Dean!"

"Cas!" Dean fired a shot to kill the witch, but the damage was done. Whatever spell she'd said, it was doing something to Cas. Dean dropped to his knees next to him. "Cas, what's wrong buddy, what's going on!?" Cas had just... dropped. He frowned. "I... Aggh!" He scrunched his face in pain. "Dean.." He panted. "That spell, that- Ggghhaa... it.. it's attacking my... my vessel. I- gHHhgh.!.. I won't.. I don't think I'll be.. hnmhhh.. Dean, I'll die..!" There was fear on his face now, among the pain.

"Cas! No no no no no, that's not happening, this is not happening... what can I do? Can I do something- Cas, tell me I can do something!" Cas couldn't die. "Don't leave me again" Generally he'd panick about why he'd said that, but he could worry about that later, when Cas wasn't dying. Or dead. Cas screamed in pain again, followed by some heavy breathing. "There's- you could- but I'd never ask that of you, Dean, never, -AgGhgh!! !"

"Cas, anything- I'd do anything, if it means you don't die? I'd do it, I'll do it, just, what is it, Cas, what do I need to do?" Did Cas not know by now that Dean would do anything for him? "If I- gAHhg.. If I could posess you- but I would never, never do that to you Dean, neverrrrgAAAAHHHHhhhh...." Cas scrunched his eyes closed. "I won't- I wouldn't." Dean laughed out loud, stained with desperation. Is that all? I'd do that for you in a heartbeat. "Cas, yes, the answer is yes, now get in me before you- before you- just.." Cas frowned. "Dean you can't possibly- mMmmh- possibly be okay with that-" "Cas you stupid sonovabitch I consent okay don't die on me! Not if I can save you so fucking easily, okay?" Cas looked at him, still struggeling for breath, trying to sense anything other than willingness and desperation, and found none. He nodded. And then Dean's vision whited out.

When Dean woke up, he expected to be drowning. Or at least in an illusion. That was okay, though. For Cas, he'd do anything. Instead, he woke up in the trashed apartment he passed out in. The first thing he saw was Cas's... body. Vessel. He looked like someone drove a truck over him, and his face was white as a sheet.

"No no no no no no... Cas?" Did it not work? It had to have worked. Otherwise Cas was... Dean almost choked on a sob. He'd have to burn the body, again. Cas was dead, again.

Hello, Dean.

"Whatthesunovabitchholyhellcrap" Yeah, how articulate. He'd litterally fell over. "Cas?"

I'm here, Dean.

"O..kay..." Wait if it worked then why am I not drowning. Dean looked at Cas's body. This was so trippy.

I would never do that to you, Dean. Never. You've allowed me to.. reside in your body for now, but that doesn't mean I will ever put you to sleep like that.

Wait, you heard that? (I don't think 'heard' is the right word but I don't think there is a word) (shit I don't want him to read my thoughts) (not putting me to sleep doesn't mean he couldn't've taken control of my body is he not planning to do that either?) (I'm glad he's so resolute in not wanting to put me to sleep I'd be terrified. It'd be worth it of course though, he's Cas)

I'm afraid that can't quite be helped Dean... not without locking you up. I would offer to leave, but... I am also not planning to take control of your body, either. I won't treat you like a vessel. As far as I'm concerned, I'm a guest here. (he thinks so many things at the same time- how does he keep up with it?)

Dean laughed a little. (Angel of the Lord can't keep up with my ADHD- hilarious) (shit he can read my thoughts how do I keep him from figuring out that-) (Cas has such a low self-esteem I should really treat him better) (aww he cares about me) (I'm glad he doesn't want control but this is gonna be weird- how do I explain this to Sammy / What if I need to shower- shit not going down that road lalala)

Dean, as glad as I am that you find this amusing, I really am having a hard time keeping up with all of- that.. (I'll try not to pry but it's going to be hard...)

Dean sobered up a little. "Okay. Okay, um... the witch is dead. We should burn her. What do you wanna do with your body? Is there like.. a chance that you could move back in again or... should I uh, burn it with her?" (wrapping up his corpse to burn that time was one of the hardest things I've ever done) (we should call Sammy, get back home) (hunt succesfull- now to deal with the aftermath) (Is Cas gonna find a new vessel again? Or is he gonna stay with me? I don't think I'll mind that, but we haven't really figured out how this is gonna work. Besides, after Jimmy I don't really see him doing that to someone again)

Cas managed to sound regretfull when he 'said' I'm afraid that since there's no sould to invite me in again, I won't be able to go back. (This 'sucks'. I really did like that vessel it was starting to be part of me. Jimmy died for me to be able to have it and I don't want to do that to someone else, including Dean.)

Dean almost smiled. (I can HEAR the quote marks) (yeah Jimmy's face was Cas for me too) (Why is he so hesitant about using me as a vessel I don't mind and I'm already in the life, this is fine as far as I'm concerned and now Cas won't be able to just leave us again, either) (wait am I never gonna see Cas again? like yeah we'll be closer than ever but am I really not gonna be able to see his face again (black hair always messy and those blue, blue eyes) ? Or touch him?) He was sad now. So was Cas, when he answered.

No. You won't be able to- We won't be able to speak face-to-face again. We are technically physically touching right now (I'm probably clinging onto your soul a little too hard), but we won't be able to, say, clap eachother on the shoulder (or hug, I really liked the rare occasion when Dean hugged me). You're right, we should get to Sam.

Dean nodded. (I actually need a shower first but of course the angel wouldn't've realized that. Witches and their bodily fluids...) (Mental note: hug Cas more often. Wait shit I can't. I wish I hugged him more often when I could. I wanted to) (shit I really am going to have to take a shower with Cas inside me- wait bad phrasing!) Wait can you mojo me clean? (Please tell me you couldn't see that or like, at least ignore it)

Yes, I can. (Does Dean realize that was not the first image of intercourse he's conjured up since I posessed him?)

Dean blushed, and of course his mind went through his wank bank of Castiel right then. Uh, good. please do that. (pleasepleaseplease ignore this) (Cas beating him up in the alley when he was going to say yes to Micheal but this time it took a different turn // Cas popping up in his bathroom and standing way too close but this time they kissed and things got heated // brainwashed Cas beating him up over the tablet and telling him he's the one that broke the connection and then them making out // an image he conjured of Cas banging him in Rhonda Hurley's panties // a very, very graphic scenario he conjured of him giving Cas a blowjob // Cas and Dean, starring in the places of a kinky porno Dean watched // an image of Cas banging him over Baby's hood on a backroad somewhere // that one fanfiction Dean found when he was looking at the Supernatural books where Cas and Dean banged but it was so emotional and layered Dean had to rework his entire opinion of fans and fanfiction and seks)

Cas mojo'd him clean within a second. I can also fly us to the Bunker, if you like. Dean had kinda gotten his head under control. Oh. Uh, Baby's outside. And we still need to burn the witch. And, uhm, and your vessel, too. (that was so bad how is Cas not totally disgusted with me after that) (I really really don't wanna burn Cas's body again, even if I know he's okay) (he better not leave Baby) I can take care of all of those things within a seconds, Dean. You won't have to burn my body again. (I also need to adress the fact that Dean seems to believe I would be disgusted with him for being sexually attracted to my vessel previous vessel but I was not built for maintaining multiple conversations at a time like Dean seems to be)

Oh Okay, go ahead then. (Does Cas really think it was the vessel I was attracted to and not him? I mean yeah it helped that Jimmy is hot but it's all Cas's holy hotness that turns me on. And it isn't only sexual, obviously, I'd do anything for him- and he's done so much for me there's no way I can ever repay him- I love him so much. He's the only angel I trust.) (shit I can not be thinking things like that right now fuck) (technically we're having two conversations with these like, underthoughts)

Okay, I will. (Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me Dean loves me...) (There is no way I understood that right, there is no way Dean actually loves me, he means it like a brother or a friend or something else maybe But he said he TRUSTS me and he showed no hesitation and he also seems to feel guilty about saying that he loves me and also the rest of what he said, STOP I need to try and focus on what I'm trying to do here)

(I do not mean it like a brother or a friend I mean it like a romantic 'I love you' in the sense that I really want to kiss you and call you my boyfriend but there's no way you'd want that you're an angel or at least that's what I thought) (this is not the type of freaking out I thought Cas would do when he found out I love him what the Hell does he love me back? No don't get your hopes up) (I really really shouldn't be thinking any of this f u c k) (of course I fucking trust you are you serious you've litterally given up armies for me Cas! Whenever you fuck up it's because you think it's the right thing and I really hope you won't leave again but you'd never do anything to hurt us)

Sorry Dean, it appears I can't dispose of the bodies or transport your car without being in control of my... vessel (Dean's more than a vessel.) I apologize. (Wow he really does love and trust me and of course I'm only aware of this now that it is physically impossible for me to give in to those human urges I've been having like kissing indeed but Dean can still call me his boyfriend if he wants, I would like that even if I don't actually have a gender...)

(since when is 'vessel' a derogatory term?) (of course I fucking love and trust him he really deserves-needs so much more affection than I show him) (oh right junkless angel wouldn't be my boyfriend but my what-was-that-word-I-saw datemate! Oh can we even go on dates in one body would Cas want dates wait how is this real am I seriously thinking about dates with Cas) (Cas wants to kiss me Cas wants to kiss me shit I wish I could kiss him so fucking bad- I might get to have Cas and I still won't get to kiss him) Okay, take control then. (Why is he still acting like he can't take over for a sec I really don't mind)

(I wish we could kiss and go on a proper date. We can probably go on some resemblance of a date though. Wait no focus. Dean genuinly doesn't mind me taking over his body? But.. it's his.) You.. you're sure? (Where would I put him? I won't put him in an illusion but having him look through my eyes might harm him. I could cut his visual cabability if he lets me but that might still be too close to what he experienced with Micheal)

Yeah I'm sure. I mean, I'm nervous. But I trust you. I definetly trust you, Castiel. I... you can probably put me in an illusion if it isn't.. (scary) Can you just put me in my room or something? Something that's as far away from (constantly drowning, forever without air) ...as you can. Something with light and things and stuff.

Yeah. I can do that for you, Dean. I won't be long, I promise.

Dean expected to be thrown out of his seat, to need to gasp for air. Instead, he felt gently nudged away, and his vision became superblurry. When it cleared up, he was in a library with lots of open windows. He looked around, and his vision was already blurring again. It refocused, and he was standing in the Bunker's kitchen, with Sam looking at him like he'd been startled.

I've taken care of the bodies, and I've put the Impala in the garage. The dream I put you in... was it okay? I tried to be as quick as I could.

It was perfect, Cas. Exactly what I asked for. I barely had time to blink.

"Who and what are you, and where are Dean and Cas?" Sam asked, now traning a gun on him. "Whoa whoa whoa, Sammy. It's me." Dean said, holding up his hands. "Yeah. Right. My brother doesn't teleport. So I'll ask again. Who are you?" Dean took a deep breath. "I'm Dean friggin Winchester. And I didn't teleport. Cas flew me." Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn't lower the gun. "Where is Cas? What happened?" "Well... so, it ended up being a witch, not a werewolf. And she... she put some kind of mojo on Cas. Like, the type of mojo that can kill an Angel. So I.. saved him. Uh. I'm not sure how to.. explain..." Cas, can you take like, just my mouth, and say hi to Sam? You'll be better at explaining than I am. Sure, Dean.

"Hello Sam. I am currently posessing Dean. My vessel was destroyed, and if Dean had not given me consent I would have died." Cas managed to make Dean's voice sound deeper than it already was. (so it's possible for Cas to posses only part of me then. We can have fun with that...) "Wow that was weird. Hey Sammy."

"Dean? Cas!? What the Hell?!"

[rosemariad]

Supernatural season 13

I've heard of the widower arc that takes place during the early part of this season but geez

Dean looks so depressed – the desolation, the hopelessness. Poor Dean Bean, lost his angel yet again. You can't help but feel for the poor guy (for now…)

Then the instant 180, uno reverse this man takes in his demeanor. He's so happy Cas is back. AND having a big cowboy adventure! They're spoiling this man after the widower arc. Jack & Sam are not down for it but Dean's been so miserable they shut the fuck up.

Dean swallowing deeply when Cas quotes Tombstone – confirmation they have movie nights together (ALONE??????) if they were alone during these movie nights – they're basically dating w/o clarifying that they are actually dating – and they're coparenting, my goodness! The domestication is real!

We later find out Dean snuck a quick shot of Cas in the little cowboy hat he made him wear for the case. Wow.

But as a side note - I did NOT appreciate how shitty Dean was to Jack. He was basically abusing him verbally like WTF give the kid a damn chance - don’t make death threats to the newborn child that was literally born yesterday like the fuck #jackdefensesquad. Like anything bad that jack actually does, he’ll think back to the moments where Dean was like ‘oh he’s a monster’ ’when you go dark side, I’ll be the one to kill you’ yeah like maybe that’s what pushed him to that point. It’s no surprise Jack chooses to leave. My ass would’ve been gone. Also was Cas made aware of the threats Dean made to Jack???

They’re making it REALLY HARD to like Dean this season. MoC was bad, Demon!Dean too but evil forces were at work. This time he got no excuse — threatening at 16 yr old girl who has no one in her corner. They’re basically forcing her to help them for nothing in return. Unbelievable 🤬 And Sam, wtf? Would it kill you to stand up to your fuckin’ brother!

Anyway - Jack’s power is totally cool though.

Kaia…was killed by an alternate self? Whaaaaaat?

So this was the season they tried for the Wayward Girls? Shame it didn’t work out…like the premise is cool BUT since the main show barely give the women characters the time of day, is it any wonder that a pilot didn’t work? The showrunners only seem good with moments - but no building up of the narrative like the male counterparts AKA main cast. Also - what would be the conflict - give people a reason to keep watching the girls - their storylines seem more or less resolved - Jody has already mourned the loss of her family, its not like she became Batman or something to fight a war against criminality. Claire has also gotten past the loss of her parents (as far as we know but honestly she should’ve been part of the main narrative as her life had been directly affected by Castiel’s actions and we all know why Cas bothers to get up in the morning…anyway), Donna doesn’t seem to have anything going on - she’s divorced but over it, Alex is over her dark past, Patience is just seeming to get a hand of her abilities - like where are the stakes??? Sam and Dean had a whole quest to embark on, then they had to navigate fraternal relationship while fighting monsters all the time, slowly unraveling an overarching narrative that’s taken over their lives. Where’s that for the ladies????

I spoke too soon - Donna’s niece gets kidnapped and Doug is her boyfriend (wow totally forgot about that guy, certainly didn’t think he’d return) and once he gets turned into a vampire but cured of it, he’s done. Before he leaves Donna, he calls her a hero. Honestly, if I ended up having a partner/lover who killed dangerous supernatural creatures, I wouldn’t leave them. I’d stick by them and have them teach me a few things. Oh well. Maybe Donna will run to Jody to have a shoulder to cry on ;) I know y’all JodyxDonna shippers are out there.

Scoobynatural was fucking legendary! I loved watching Scooby doo as a kid, from when they were literal babies, to the OG episodes, to the revamp from the early 2000s, all the movies! (Zombie Island was the best!). It was a genuine delight watching the Winchesters (and Cas) cross paths with Mystery Inc. makes me wish they met Buffy and Ash from Evil Dead. That would’ve been awesome! Watching Dean say scooby dooby doo was total cringe tho :/ I love that Cas shut him down 🤣🤣

That ascot though? He’s wearing it all wrong, its supposed to be stuffed in, like how Fred wears it. And certainly not worn with plaid. SMH…

But now I totally want Supernatural as a fucking cartoon! Just like Scooby Doo - it would’ve been fucking glorious, Dean’s unhinge-able jaw, the kooky facial expressions, the comedic effects, and who knows, it would’ve given the show-runners the artistic freedom to reveal the true form of angels, namely, Castiel’s. Oh well.

Donatello is…dead? I know they said Brain dead but after Amara sucked out his soul and Cas fucked up his brain, isn’t he better off dead? Par for the course for a prophet though, sucks for him.

Funny how Rowena suddenly wants to be the good mom and try to bring her demon son back after CENTURIES of chances. Sure she may not have known what became of Fergus since she left him, but I’m sure it wouldn’t have taken much to find out. She just didn’t want to. Now she’s filled with regret. And Sam’s destined to murder her? And she didn’t take him out? Okay, well then I guess it’s only a matter of time until she dies😒 not this season though, she’s too useful with her witchy powers to be killed off until she serves whatever purpose is convenient 😒

Angels are almost extinct :( I know they’re meant to be seen as controlling jerks but so is Dean XD lol anyway that’s a bummer with devastating consequences cuz if there’s no angels - they said all the souls will fall to Earth and become ghosts - billions in number - yeah. If it were me I would’ve just said the souls disappear but it ain’t my show 🤷🏽‍♀️

Naomi is back and I don’t even care - I’m sorry but I just don’t care about Apocalypse world either, I feel like it’s a grand waste of time. The fact that Charlie and Bobby are there doesn’t even matter cuz it’s not them. It’s not the Charlie and Bobby we got to know before. They’re just counterparts of another world, echoes of the fallen. When Dean says I can’t lose you, dude you literally just met her. And they’re expected to what, abandon the world they were born into? The fuck?

And fuck this show for killing Kevin TWICE!!! Kevin you were too precious for this universe/multiverse, whatever.

ketch is the latest (aside from rowena) of former villains/enemies/antagonist in supernatural that's suddenly we're supposed to be sympathetic towards since they switch sides and help the winchesters for a change but what's the reason??? I feel it's a little out there that Dean especially would let ketch live after what he put his mom through but whatever. since the show runners insisted with this whole apocalypse world crap, Dean would have died without ketch's help 😑

Gabriel has returned…only to die…again…awesome. at least he got to fuck rowena before he passed away 🤣😅

Luci got fucked over hahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahaha

Bobby x Mary, oh man John would be roaring in his grave…if he had one 🤣 [got burned to ashes in season 2], Bobby finna take his whole family, first his sons now his wife ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

Luci resurrected someone? And nothing bad happened? Now tht’s a twist. I figured since he’s Satan she’d turn into a demon or something, but i guess not cuz we’re definitely not gonna see her again…

You know since I’ve seen The Boys I can see a resemblance between homelander and the devil, they both blow up in anger very similarly. When jack tells Luci, you’re not my father, he raged in a way that was eerily like Homelander would’ve. Just thought I’d point that out…

Dean lets in Alt-Michael - Oh Lord above its the apocalypse all over again (this was a cool shot though) - meanwhile what’s OG Michael doing? Is he still in the Cage with Adam? Really? You had to bring an extra Michael into this nonsense? Ok 🙄 You know if Luci had possessed Sam too, it would’ve been a wrap!

Jack is powerless…for now? This poor kid was gonna kill himself?! Honey why? Ugh I’m blaming Dean for this. He put the seed in that kid’s head he was nothing but trouble and he was going to sacrifice himself, poor baby!

Cas why would you let Dean go?!?! Too sad to follow him into battle after Dean let Alt-Michael in?

Why can’t Sam get a super powerful Big Bad kill huh? Why is it always Dean? Geez.

So the only good things to happen this season were Scooby Doo and Jack meeting Cas. Ugh, their meetup was soo cute ^_^

Welp only 2 seasons left, the last that’s over 20 episodes. Which means we only have 40 episodes to go til the end…goodie 😅