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pink-sparkly-witch · 7 months

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All She Wants, Part Three (Finale)

Summary: Dean’s experience with the wrong hormone suppressants makes him feral. The only person who can get him out of it and save his life is Y/N, the omega he had been mating with for years until she left six months ago. Without a claim and with no prospects of Dean ever giving her one, Y/N finally had enough and broke the bond they’d forged in their years together and left him, but with Sam now begging her to go to Dean and save his life, will she go, or will she leave the green-eyed alpha to his biological fate?

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Alpha Gone Feral for @j3bingo

Warnings: tw: dub con claiming, omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, language, ruts, feral alpha, agitation, aggression, smut, rough sex, biting, oral sex (f rec), fingering, p in v sex, hair pulling, heavy angst, aftercare, fluff

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Here we go… the super angsty finale of this alpha!Dean mini-series! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

You can catch up here!

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

Y/N’S POV

The knocking on your motel room door startles you, and you grab your gun from the waistband of your jeans and cautiously step towards the door. Flicking the safety off, you place the barrel onto the wood and cautiously open it just enough to see who’s on the other side.

“Sam? Cas?” you gasp, throwing the door open wider.

“You should be more careful, Y/N. We could be demons or shapeshifters or any other kind of monster,” Cas speaks first, and you blink at him, amused, as always, by his directness.

“Nice to see you, too, Cas,” you smirk, opening the door wider to let them in.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sam says as he leans down to hug you. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Sam,” you smile as you close the door behind them. You know whatever this unplanned visit is, it’s about Dean.

“You seem healthy,” Cas states, tilting his head to the side and frowning as if searching for something. “And yet—”

“So!” Sam interrupts quickly. “How have you been?”

“Fine…” You narrow your eyes at the alpha’s strange behaviour. “This isn’t a social visit, is it?” You finally ask.

“No,” Cas confirms, and you don’t know if you’re glad he’ll get straight to the point or if you’d prefer Sam to dance around it all a little more.

“Dean.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. You knew from the way your stomach dropped the second you saw them that this wasn’t a good news visit.

“I asked Cas to find you,” Sam said softly.

You and the younger Winchester have stayed in touch since you left the bunker, but you agreed you wouldn’t tell him where you were, and he wouldn’t ask. It was one thing for Dean to find out they were talking, but it’d be another entirely if he knew Sam knew where she was.

“What happened?” Your mind goes to the worst possible scenario, and you try to fight the rising nausea.

“Dean has been taking store bought suppressants,” Sam says, and you feel your blood boil.

“What? Why? Why would he be so goddamn stupid? Did he know what they’d do to an alpha in his situation?” you fume at the men as you pace the threadbare carpet.

“No. He knew they weren’t suitable long-term, but the side effects he experienced weren’t typical,” Cas answered.

“I thought it was a mix of the drugs and rejection sickness and that it’d ease over time,” Sam says calmly and quietly. “But I think he suffered some kind of chemical reaction to them, and by the time I found out what he was taking, it was too late.”

“Too late? Sam, what are you saying?” You’re terrified of what he’s so anxious to tell you.

“He’s feral, Y/N,” Cas finally puts you out of your misery, and while it’s bad news, it’s not the worst thing they could’ve told you. “But I don’t understand why you are not.”

It’s not an accusation. The angel is just curious about alphas who mate with but don’t claim omegas. To his literal knowledge, an alpha finds an omega, they mate, there’s a claim, an unbreakable bond, and pups. Your situation with Dean had always intrigued the celestial being.

“Because I’ve been taking the suppressants I should. Prescribed by a doctor. Why didn’t he do the same thing?” Contrary to the angel’s question, yours is accusatory as you look between Sam and Cas.

“You know what he’s like, Y/N. He doesn’t talk about these things, and I didn’t know until a few days ago. He’s been overcome with guilt for how he treated you, and I think…” Sam trails off, noticing from the look on your face that you know what he was alluding to.

“You think this is some kind of self-sacrifice?” you ask in disbelief. Dean is well known for his self-depreciation, and it’s something you’ve seen and heard from him many times, but this? “No… No, I don’t believe that. Why would he put himself through that just to go feral anyway? Why not just lie down and let it happen on its own?”

“You really want me to answer that?” Sam asks, and you frown.

“Sam, you can’t be serious! Dean is not doing this to punish himself for hurting me. There’s no way,” you argue, but you know the green-eyed alpha better than he knows himself. It does sound like something he’d do to himself—some kind of fucked up repentance for his behaviour.

Sam only shrugs, and you sigh, knowing you’ve both come to the same conclusion.

“So, what? You want me to go to him? Get him out of this mess?”

“You’re his mate. Only you can get him back from this,” Cas says, and you laugh bitterly, taking the angel by surprise.

“I bet Dean loves that!” you scoff. “Anytime I told him that like it or not, we’re mates, he shot me down in flames!”

“I know he hurt you, and I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, and Dean knows it too. He told me not to look for you. That he doesn’t deserve your help, but I’m asking you to think about it. Please?”

“I don’t know, Sam. If I go to him, you know what it means, right?” you check, not convinced either of them fully understand what they’re asking of you.

“I do,” Sam responds.

“And you know it’s pretty much a done deal that he’ll claim me in his feral haze? And then when he comes to, he’ll regret it and reject me? You’re asking me to sacrifice myself for him? Because I won’t survive his rejection, you both know that, right?”

“He’d never reject you, Y/N,” Cas confirms what you know in your heart, but it brings no comfort.

“Oh, because a forced claim and being stuck with someone who doesn’t want me is a better fate than dying from rejection!”

“He does want you. He loves you. He just can’t—” Sam starts, but you interrupt with a scoff.

“Give me what I want. I know, Sam. He’s told me that so many times it’s imprinted in my memory!” You huff, quickening your pacing.

You want to say no. You want to protect yourself and your fragile heart that’s still trying to heal, but you know if you were the feral one, Dean would already be here, doing everything he could to get you through it—even claiming you just so you’d survive.

He doesn’t deserve to die, and yet, you don’t deserve to be someone’s mistake, but you can’t see any other option. If you don’t go to him, he’ll die. If you go to him, and he doesn’t reject you, you’ll be miserable, but you’ll both be alive.

“Fuck!” you yell in frustration. Once again, you feel that self-loathing that only Dean seems able to bring out of you. You hate yourself because you still love him even after everything, and you’d sacrifice everything to save him.

“Where is he?”

Walking up to the secluded cabin, you shiver at the deathly silence surrounding you. As if being this deep in the woods isn’t ominous enough, there isn’t even a bird chirping or an insect buzzing in the heavy air.

You’re so deep in the woods that the midday sun can’t even breach the trees. You drove as close as you could, but you’d had to abandon your car about a mile back. This is probably the safest house Bobby had ever found, and you have to admire Dean for choosing this one to hide out in.

Sam had given you the key. At first, you’d been shocked he’d lock Dean in with no way to escape, but you knew feral alphas aren’t to be taken lightly. There had been cases of ferals going on murder sprees, and the green-eyed hunter would never risk putting people in any kind of danger.

“Dean?” you call out as you knock on the door. “It’s Y/N. Sam found me. He said you need my help.” With no response, you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for being too late, and put the key in the lock.

Pushing the door open slowly, the sour smell of Dean’s feral rut slams into you, and immediately your body begins to respond to the distressed alpha. Your skin tingles, heat floods your veins, and slick pools at your entrance. You’ve never been more grateful for a heat to come on as you are now. If it didn’t, Dean could seriously hurt or even kill you trying to get himself out of this.

“Omega,” Dean growls from the doorway of the bedroom and with one look at his bloodshot eyes, you know there’s little to no humanity in him right now.

“Alpha,” you whimper and bow your head in submission.

“Mine,” he groans in front of you, and you jump, having not heard him move across the room.

Dean buries his head in your neck and inhales your scent, gasping as if he’d been suffocating, and your scent is his oxygen.

“My ‘mega,” Dean snarls and slams you against the wooden door. You whimper at the pain and remind yourself not to fight. If you fight, things could get ugly.

Pawing at your jeans, he tries to undo them, but in his desperation to get at you, he can’t grasp the little brass button and punches the wall next to your head in frustration.

“Hey,” you purr, placing a hand on his cheek and smiling as he leans into your touch, “It’s okay, Alpha. Let me.”

Loosening the button and pulling the zipper down, you kick off your shoes, slide the denim from your legs and step out of them. Moving to your shirt, you begin pulling at the material when Dean slaps your hands away.

“No!” he growls. “Mine.”

Dean isn’t gentle when he claws at your shirt, grabbing the neckline with both hands and ripping the cotton from your body. The groan that rumbles from his belly when your lace-covered breasts are exposed to his gaze has slick soaking through your underwear.

He wastes no time placing his lips on the tops of your breasts, biting and sucking the sensitive skin, marking you in a way he never has before. Dean pulls the cups of your bra down and quickly finds a hard nipple, and you groan from his overzealous assault.

You whine as the alpha pulls away from you, but before you can complain further, Dean lifts you on his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom.

“Strip,” he orders as he places you back on your feet, and you don’t dare disobey or take your time removing your bra and panties.

“Good girl,” he praises as he takes his clothes off, and you wonder if just being here is making him a little less feral. “Get on the bed, Omega.”

Again, you don’t dare take your time and quickly crawl onto the bed and wait for his next instruction. Dean kneels at the bottom of the bed, pulls you down by your ankles, and pushes your knees down to the mattress.

“Mine,” he growls as the scent of your slick reaches him, and he lowers his head between your legs. He’s not gentle, anything but, and his longer stubble scratches and jabs at your soft, sensitive skin. It’s sore, yet you quickly fall apart on his mouth.

Before you fully come down from your high, Dean’s fingers are inside you, and he’s sucking and biting his way up your body. When this is over, your skin will be an interesting spectrum of colour; you can already see patches of red on your breasts from earlier, and Dean’s not done with them yet as he goes back to sucking and biting your nipples.

As your forced heat takes over, the pain from Dean’s bites and rough hands ease, and all you can feel and hear now is desire and pleasure and growls and snarls, and Dean, mumbling mine over and over again while his teeth nip at your neck.

“Present, Omega,” Dean growls as he pulls back from your body just enough to let you turn around. You crawl further up the bed and lean forward onto your elbows. You unintentionally wiggle your ass as you get comfortable in your new position, making Dean growl deeply and spank your round cheeks.

You feel his hands slide up your thighs and over your ass. His touch soothes and cools your heated skin. When he finally slams into your slick, aching pussy, it’s hard, rough, and deliciously painful.

Dean is fully feral, and there’ll be no stopping him until he comes out of the rut in five or six days. You know it won’t be pretty, and you won’t come out of this unscathed. At least your heat is making you feel like a wanton whore.

As your humanity is overtaken by omega, much like Dean’s is with alpha, your last thought is being grateful for being in a cabin in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere.

It’s been six days, and Dean still pounds into you like there’s no tomorrow. Your heat is starting to wane, but hasn’t subsided so much that you won’t still be pliable under his hands. Still, at least the heat fog is beginning to lift, and you hope it’s a sign that Dean’s rut is finally ending.

It took four knots to get him out of his feral state, but his rut is intense, and he’s insatiable. You suppose the combination of suppressants and being feral will do that to an alpha.

“‘Mega,” Dean grunts as his hand slides up your spine and grips your neck. “So good for me, baby girl.”

His praise makes you purr, and you feel his hand slide from your neck into your hair and wrap his fist around it, making your body turn to jelly. Dean tugs your hair, and you’re forced to raise to your knees, your back pressed against his chest, and he pulls your head to the side by your hair, exposing your neck to him.

It’s already black and blue from the gnawing he’s been doing there this past week, but this is different. He’s scenting you and licking your mating gland and whining. Dean loves licking and kissing your neck, but not like this. It feels different. There’s a change in the atmosphere, and his thrusts are brutal and stuttered.

You try to move, try and get him away from you, but he snarls and yanks your hair painfully, keeping a hold of it so you can’t move.

“Dean,” you whimper, and he snarls again at the use of his name, and you know he’s not as far out of this rut as you’d hoped. “Alpha, please,” you beg, but it’s useless. He’s too far gone again. His mouth is sucking on your mating gland, and he’s growling and grunting as his knot swells and catches at your entrance.

“Please don’t do it, Alpha. It’s just the rut. You don’t want this… you don’t want me, please!” you cry. But as his knot slips inside, locking you together, your head falls back on his shoulder, and when his teeth break your skin, you scream your release and lose the little self-control you had earlier.

Coming down from your high, you notice that Dean is still latched onto you, and you can feel blood dripping down your neck. The sudden rush of hormones and pheromones from the claim makes you reach another orgasm, and this time, you take the alpha with you. Grunting and growling, Dean’s release coats your walls, and you let the blackness take over.

When you come to, you’re on your side, and Dean is cleaning and soothing the wound on your neck with gentle licks and soft kisses. You’re still locked together, and every twitch of his cock catches your G-spot and fills your womb with even more of his seed.

A brief thought that he could’ve gotten you pregnant crosses your mind, and you hope the fates aren’t so cruel as to have this be when you get your wish of pups; not like this.

The last week finally catches up with you, and the lullaby of Dean’s whines and whimpers, combined with his soft kisses, lull you into a deep sleep.

The sun’s warmth on your face begins to wake you from sleep. Your muscles feel heavy, and Dean’s lips caress your back and shoulders.

“Morning, Omega,” he rasps behind you, sliding a warm hand over your hip, and a pang of dread settles in your stomach. You’re tired, every muscle in your body is screaming at you, and your pussy is in agony from a week of rough pounding and knots courtesy of the alpha pulling you closer to his body. If he’s still not out of this rut, you don’t think you’ll survive another round.

“Don’t worry,” Dean chuckles. “I’m not feral anymore, and the rut has gone.”

You’re confused, wondering how he knew what you were thinking. You don’t think you groaned. In fact, you’re pretty sure you didn’t even move. Your body is too sore to even tense up.

Then you remember Dean claimed you and that he did it while in a feral rut.

As your whole world comes crashing down around you, you do the one thing you’d rather die than do in front of Dean.

Cry.

DEAN’S POV

Devastation. That’s all he can feel radiating from the omega next to him. When he woke an hour ago, he’d been happier than ever. The second he claimed Y/N, there was a shift, and all felt right in the world.

He thought—naively, he now realises—Y/N would be happy. It’s what she wanted. What she needed, but the sheer anguish from her tells a different story. The worst part of all this is the shame he feels for claiming her without her consent and the knowledge that now, she’s stuck with him whether she wants to be or not.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay,” Dean tries to soothe her and presses his lips to her shoulder. “Y/N, look at me, please?” She remains on her side, facing away from him and crying, and the alpha in him takes over. His omega is in distress, and he needs to fix it. “Omega, look at me!” he growls lowly, and watches as Y/N obeys his order and timidly rolls onto her back.

Dean’s jaw drops, and he’s disgusted with himself as he takes in her abused torso. There are a couple of bites and bruises on her back and shoulders, but it’s nothing compared to what covers her neck, breasts and stomach. There’s so much bruising that barely any skin has been left unblemished. As he scans further down her body, he can see the same damage over the tops of her thighs and between her legs.

“Baby girl, I’m so sorry. I—” Dean can’t finish; he has no words for what he did to her. He immediately gets out of bed and fills the tub with hot water. There’s only so much he can do for her out here in the cabin, but the safe house is stocked with first aid supplies, medication and dry and tinned food.

When the tub is full, he shuts off the water and walks back into the bedroom, seeing Y/N still lying on her back and seemingly void of all emotion. Whether it’s on purpose to shut him out or she’s in shock, Dean’s not sure.

Walking over, Dean lifts her from the bed and carries her into the bathroom. He lowers her into the hot water and bathes her gently, mumbling words of comfort, hoping she can hear him and that she can find it in her to forgive him.

Y/N’S POV

After tenderly bathing you, Dean left you to soak in the warm water a little longer, telling you there were clothes in the wardrobe and that he’d make something to eat.

“Please eat with me, omega. You need to get your strength up, and we need to talk,” Dean had begged before he left, closing the door but not fully so he could still keep an eye on you.

He was right; you do need to talk. And eat. You feel weak and lightheaded and desperately in need of something to take away the pain that’s pulsing through every inch of your body.

When the water has lost its warmth, you climb out and wrap yourself in a towel, avoiding the mirror in the corner. Dean’s reaction earlier is enough for you to know you’ll burst into tears if you see it for yourself. And you can’t bear to see his claim on your neck when it was given under duress.

Pulling clothes from the wardrobe, you choose the softest and biggest things you can find. You know from the smell that the sweats and t-shirt are Dean’s, but you’ve always gotten comfort from his scent, and you suspect you’ll get even more from it now.

Coming out of the bedroom, you follow the noise towards the main part of the cabin and find Dean spooning pasta into bowls in the kitchen.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks, stopping what he’s doing to give you his full attention.

“Sore,” you chuckle, pulling out a stool. You hiss and wince, the throbbing—and not the good kind—between your legs getting worse for a few seconds as you sit.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean… I hate that I was so rough. That I’ve hurt you,” Dean says as he pushes a bowl and fork towards you.

“You were feral, Dean. It’s not your fault,” you reply, and you mean it. It’s really not his fault.

“It is, though, sweetheart. If I had taken the right suppressants, I wouldn’t have gone feral, and I wouldn’t have claimed you without your consent.”

“I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. I’m just sorry you’re stuck with me,” you smile sadly. “And if you want to leave, I get it. I know I’m not what you want—”

“Would you stop saying that?” Dean interrupts. “I do want you. I have always wanted you. I’m scared that tying you to me will put you in danger.” The desperation rolls from him in waves, and you know he’s telling you the truth. You can feel it. “I want you, Omega. I want this. I don’t regret claiming you. I regret doing it against your will, and if you want to leave me… reject me… It’s what I deserve, and I’ll let you walk out of here right now, but please stop saying that I don’t want you, Y/N. You’re all I want.”

The chemical bond you now share with Dean is overwhelming. He feels more deeply than he ever lets on, and regret over the non-consensual claim is putting it mildly. He’s distraught over it, and his feelings are so strong that you can almost hear the thoughts in his head telling him he’s stupid and he’s fucked things up before it’s really started between you. You can’t take it. You can’t let him think you don’t want this too.

“You’re all I want too, Alpha. The reason I got so upset when I realised you could feel how I felt is because it was a rut claim, and we’d be stuck together and miserable and resentful, and I didn’t want that for either of us, but I could never reject you, Dean. I love you too much.”

The relief that washes over him makes you smile, and because of your new bond, you know he knows every word is true.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t admit it before, and I’m sorry I didn’t give you what you wanted sooner.” Dean slides off his stool and comes to your side with a tube of cream in his hand. “Now, let me see that claim. It needs something on it, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head to the side and pull the neck of the shirt down, exposing the angry, swollen bite mark. Dean gently covers the wound with the medicated cream, and you hiss at the sting.

“Sorry, baby girl.” Dean winces, feeling your discomfort as clearly as you can. “Now, eat and then bed, Omega.”

“Just to sleep, right?” you ask, scrunching up your face and wriggling in your seat at the thought of him going anywhere near your pussy for at least a week. “No sex?”

“No sex,” Dean laughs. “You need to rest, sweetheart, so just lots of cuddles and closeness and bonding and sleep.”

THE END

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#j3bingo #omegaverse #a/b/o universe #alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o

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jasmines-library · 6 months

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SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST

All the things on the road so far:

Total count: 31

Last updated: 07 April 2024

⛤ MASTERLIST ⛤

⛤ Hey Jude

Summary: When a demon hunt doesn't go to plan, the Winchesters have to rush to save their little sister. Though to make matters worse, once back home in the safety of the bunker her wound gets infected. With their angel friend MIA, Sam and Dean must battle time to find a way to help their sister.

⛤ Just One Big Headache

Summary: A routine salt 'n' burn takes a nasty turn when the spirit directs its anger towards you, leaving you with a nasty concussion, but not to worry, the Winchesters are there to look after you.

⛤ Spellbound Sickness

Summary: A long and cumbersome witch hunt turns much worse when you begin to develop a high fever; a side effect of the curse she managed to spit out at you. Will the Winchesters find the cure in time?

⛤ Up and Down

Summary: After returning from being tortured by the devil himself, your brain can’t help conjure up its own images which refuse to leave you alone.

⛤ Let It Linger

Summary: after a rough hunt resurfaces some unwanted memories, you slip into your own mind. But Sam is there to help you through it.

⛤ Blood Bag

Summary: you are captured by a group of vamps whilst on a hunt. They take their time trying to kill you, draining you of your blood in an old warehouse. For the Winchesters, it’s a race against time to reach you before something fatal happens.

⛤ Safehouse

Summary: after sustaining an injury on a hunt, you and Dean are forced back to the safehouse, however the wound festers and becomes infected, leaving you very ill. With Cas MIA and without the proper equipment to treat the wound, you are left clinging onto life. (Unknowingly like Hey Jude because I’m stupid and forgot id already done it. It’s slightly different though)

⛤ The Basement

Summary: You are captured alongside your brother Sam by the BMOL. They want something you won't tell them, so they try to force it out of you.

⛤ Hidden on the inside

Summary: During a hunt, you take a nasty hit which at first seems fine, but it's what's hidden deep under the surface that creates a problem. (I get it, i suck and writing summaries.)

⛤ Oh, Baby.

Summary: on the way back from a hunt, an out of control car veers into yours sending it hurtling off of the path and into a tree, leaving you trapped. Too far from the hospital, the Winchesters are left with the task of getting your body from the car as they wait for Cas to arrive.

⛤ Sweet Creature

Summary: When Dean is a Demon, he does something unexpected to you. Since then, you have become withdrawn, refusing to sleep in fear of the images that plague your mind. When you eventually give in and suffer a nightmare, Cas is there to help.

⛤ Sounds Of Someday

Summary: the request pretty much says it all. When you and your brothers split up during an unusual hunt, you get caught and become part of a witch’s ritual, which ends with your life slipping away and your brothers struggling to reach you as you are ripped away from them.

⛤ Devil in Disguise

Summary: After escaping from the cage, Lucifer decides to pay Sam a visit, only he's not there. So he settles on the next best thing: you.

⛤ Black Smoke Rising

Summary: Seeking revenge on the Winchesters, a demon decides to go undercover by using your body as a vessel to sneak into the bunker. Whilst trapped within your own mind, you can only hope that Sam and Dean notice that something is amiss before it is too late.

⛤ Just A Little Complication

Summary: Whilst Dean is in hell, the reader is the only one who can calm Sam down when he gets overwhelmed.

⛤ Knock it off

Summary: whilst at dinner with her family, the reader begins to choke.

⛤ Groundhog Day

Summary: takes place during the episode ‘Mystery Spot’ but instead of Dean dying over and over again, Sam and Dean are forced to watch their sister die repeatedly .

⛤ Sleep Is For The Weak

Summary: With too much to do and not a lot of time to do it, you overwork yourself, missing out on sleep. When your brothers try to get involved, you dismiss them only for you to end up collapsing during a hunt.

⛤ The Curious Case Of Dean Winchester

Summary: Takes place during S5E7 where the reader loses years off of her life to save Dean from a demon deal, however when Sam tried to win her years back, it may already be a little bit too late.

⛤ Dead In The Water

Summary: takes place during S1E3 where the reader ends up in the water with Lucas.

⛤ Dilemma

Summary: When you and your brothers get caught of guard during a werewolf hunt, they are quick to try and blame each other. But little do they know that their bickering might cost you your life.

⛤ Teeth

Summary: Reader gets turned into a vampire

⛤ So close, Yet Too far

Summary: you just really need a hug.

⛤ Hexed

Summary: a hex bag finds its way to you…

⛤ ‘Tis the Season

Summary: A fluffy one shot where the Winchesters celebrate Christmas.

⛤ A Winchester Surprise

Summary: After years of your birthday being forgotten or consumed by a hunt, your brothers make sure that this one is extra special.

⛤ Time For A Wedding

Summary: Sam and Dean attend the readers wedding.

⛤ Unconditional

Summary: 15 year old Winchester!sister discovers she is a lesbian, and whilst on a date with a girl she sees in a diner she gets harassed by a homophobic boy. When she returns, Sam and Dean comfort her.

⛤ Somebody Told Me

Summary: Sam and Dean give their nervous younger sister dating advice.

⛤ Sick Bug

Summary: When you wake up feeling sick, your big brothers are there to help make you feel better. (Hurt/comfort ish)

⛤ Noodle Soup

Summary: The reader takes care of their sick brothers

⛤ Changes (spn x dc)

Summary: You are sick of Sam and Deans bickering, so you venture to Gotham to hunt some vampires where you meet some very interesting vigilantes.

⛤ Today I Saw The Whole World

Summary: You are Sam Winchester’s twin sister, cursed with the same blood running through your veins. When Sam begins experiencing his visions, you too discover a new skill. You can see into the veil.

⛤ Bringers Of The Apocalypse (spn x DC Crossove)

Summary: The day Lucifer was freed from the cage was the day your life completely fell apart. You were ripped harshly from the peaceful life you had created for yourself in Gotham when your duty as the horseman of war calls and you are faced with a difficult decision: stay with your family in Gotham and let the apocalypse play out, or give up the ring (and ultimately your life) to go with the Winchester brothers who are searching for you to send Lucifer back to hell and save the world… or perhaps you can find a compromise somewhere inbeteeen.

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holylulusworld · 7 months

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Very tight places - Kinktober 3

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

Pairing: Soulless!Sam x fem!Reader

Square 8 filled for @anyfandomgoesbingo: Amnesia

Square 6 filled for @samwinchesterbingo: Dirty Talk

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

Rating: Explicit

Kink: Claustrophilia

Words:

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anytime. Anywhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sam! What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said I’m not in the mood for one of your games,” you pout and cross your arms over your chest. “Why did you leave me in here, all alone? Did you find the monster?”

“I fucked the nuns and gave them a good spanking,” Sam deadpans. “What do you think I did? I kept you safe. The monster wasn’t here. We will find them, though.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“And you are still my whore. My brother can’t have you,” he moves his hand to your throat. “Say it.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish I would,” he chuckles as you claw at the hand holding your throat in a tight grip. “OR maybe I should remind you of your worth. Turn around, lift your tunic, sister. I want to see your cunt.”

“No.”

“Do it or I swear I’ll drag you out of here and fuck you on the altar like I wanted to,” he warns. You know Sam is not joking. If you don’t do as he says, he’ll drag you out and have his way with you on the altar.

He drops his hand from your throat, smirking as you slowly turn around. You shove the black tunic up your body to reveal your ass to him.

“I hate you so much.”

“No panties,” Sam moves his hand between your legs to find you dripping for him. “you’re such a whore for me. I can’t believe I found someone like you.”

You should knee his balls and just leave him there. Instead, you press your hands against the wooden wall and brace yourself for Sam’s massive cock. He’s not a fan of foreplay when he’s like that.

“My whore.” He runs his large hand over your back, down to your ass. “Look at you, ready to have my cock. I think I’ll go for your ass today.”

You suck in a breath. It’s always a struggle to take him up your ass. Especially when he’s impatient.

“Here?”

“Aw, my little cockslut loves having me up her ass, huh?” His pants drop to the ground before you can even choke out a moan. Sam is on you in a blink. One hand moves between your legs to slap your pussy. “Answer me!”

“YES!”

“Louder!”

“I love your cock up my ass,” he slaps your pussylips again, and again until your tender flesh throbs and you soak his hand. “I want to feel it all the time.”

“Beg me,” he slings his arm around your throat. “Y/N, I’m not asking,” Sam growls in your ear. “I want to hear you beg.”

“Please give me your cock, Father Winchester,” he bends your body to his will and rams himself inside of your leaking cunt.

“Fuck,” Sam is not gentle. All he gives you is his free hand between your legs to toy with your clit. He snaps his hips into your ass, making you cry out with every deep thrust. “I love it when cry a little.”

“Ass-hole,” you press your hands hard against the wooden wall. “I hate you so much.”

Sam doesn’t care about your words, or that you soak his cock only a few thrusts later. He batters your cunt, hoping to force another orgasm out of you to make you see that only he can fulfill your desires.

“You make the sweetest noises when I fuck you,” he nips at your earlobe, teeth sinking in your flesh to tug at it. You moan and push back onto him. Sam knows exactly which buttons he must push to get what he wants. “I’m going to fill this cunt up again.”

You hiss his name when your body sizes up. You tremble in his arms and close your eyes as your orgasm washes over you. When he fucks you like this, from behind you can pretend it’s the real Sam, not the broken version of the hunter.

“You’re such a good slut for me, Y/N. I’ll never let you go,” his words a more threat than a promise. His hips begin to stutter. “Open that pussy for me, take my cum…”

You don’t know how you made it out of the church without getting caught. Sam’s cum ran down your thighs as he dragged you out of the place you stained with your sins.

Back at the motel, you try to make him talk to you. Sam sits across you, just staring at you.

“Sam, we still need to find the monster.” You sigh as he ignores you. “SAM! The monster.”

“It was a hoax,” he shrugs and drops his eyes to your legs. “I wanted to fuck you at a church in a confession booth.”

“There is no monster?” Your jaw drops. “You drove to the middle of nowhere, and forced me to wear a nun costume only for sex.”

“Roleplay, kitten. It’s essential to keep my dick hard.” He watches you squirm on the bed. “Be good and spread your legs. Let me see your tainted cunt.”

“Sam…can you just not be so crass all the time?”

“I said,” he gets up from his seat to stand in front of your bed, “spread your legs and show me your well-fucked and cum stained cunt.”

“Fine,” you fall back onto the bed and spread your legs. “Satisfied.”

“Hmm…I don’t know,” he unbuckles his belt with one hand and shoves his pants down his legs. “I think you need more cum in your pussy…”

“Please tell me you got him out,” Dean looks at Death.

“I got his soul, and we should hurry but,” Death looks Dean straight in the eyes, “I must warn you. This soul got ripped apart, and there is not much left of the brother you knew…

#sam winchester #anyfandomgoesbingo #samwinchesterbingo #soulless sam #sam winchester smut #soulless!sam #smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #kinktober vs flufftober 2023

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waywardxrhea · 3 months

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My Consequence - a Sam Winchester one shot

pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!hunter!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 5.7k

"when you spill your guts they don't go back in...if I bleed too much it's my consequence..." - hey violet, my consequence

One thing leads to another after a hunt and you end up spilling your guts to the man you've been pining after for years.

content: 18+ minors DNI! sleep deprivation, show accurate violence on a hunt, blood, language, humor, fluff, light angst, smut (PWP but it's a lot more plot whoops, making out, grinding, unprotected sex)

(not my gif)

You sat at the desk in the Men of Letters bunker one morning, your tired eyes trying to focus on the board that could show a litany of cases that need to be worked, and boy had you and the boys been working on them. You had barely gotten but four hours of sleep over the past week, maybe, because you couldn’t sleep at night knowing how many people out there could be suffering without your help. Sam and Dean didn’t know it, but you had been sneaking out at night to work the nearby cases by yourself and then getting a nap in before getting woken up to do it all over again. Needless to say, you were exhausted.

“You find anything?” Sam asked as he made his way into the room, a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Hey you didn’t get me any?” you asked teasingly when you saw the cup in his hand. Sam was about to offer to go make you a cup when your eyes flickered to a part of the screen as you found a case about an hour away. “Hey I found something.”

“What is it?” he asked, wandering over in your direction.

“It’s sounding like a ghoul. There’s a report of this family seeing someone who looks uncannily like their long time neighbor who passed away a few weeks ago. I’m not seeing any suspicious activity in the town so far but I think it’s worth looking into.”

“Good eye, I’ll get Dean,” he told you.

While he said this, Dean came into the room and said, “No can do, I’ve been asked to get rid of a vengeful ghost for a friend of a friend. I’m about to head out. You kids are on your own.”

“Okay, yeah, it’s nothing we can’t handle,” Sam said with a nod, sure of your abilities as a team, not knowing that you were operating on maybe a ten minute nap this morning.

“Sounds like a plan,” you said, getting up from your chair and starting to make your way to your room to get changed and gather some supplies you had stored away there.

After an hour's drive consisting of you consulting your parents’ old hunting journal for tips of how to take down ghouls, the pair of you arrived in the small neighborhood that had popped up on the map in the bunker. You straightened out your blouse as you got out of the car, trying to make it look perfect before the pair of you walked up to the reporting neighbor’s door. Sam noticed and chuckled as he told you, “You look great, don’t worry about it.”

This compliment ignited a slight blush on your cheeks that you hid as you leaned down into the trunk to grab your FBI badges. When you regained your composure you stood up straight and told him, “Thank you, you look great too. Very professional.”

Sam smiled at the compliment before straightening his tie and heading up the sidewalk in front of you. When you reached the front door, Sam knocked gently and waited for an answer. After a few seconds the inner door swung open to reveal a disheveled middle aged woman with a child on her hip. The two of you flashed your badges before Sam started with, “Ma’am, we’re with the FBI and heard about some strange occurrences going on around here. I was just wondering if we could come in.”

A sense of relief seemed to flood the woman’s body and she quickly ushered the two of you in, checking the coast behind you before closing the door. When you all sat down in the kitchen, the child playing quietly on the floor, the woman paced as she said, “Oh thank God you two are here. I’ve been telling the sheriffs office about Dan for a few days but they keep calling me crazy! They’re telling me that I’m just so used to seeing him that my brain is playing tricks on me, but I know that I’ve seen him!”

“Can you tell me more about this Dan person?” you asked.

“What do you want to know? I’ve known the man almost my whole life. He’s been my neighbor since my family moved here when I was five. A bit reclusive, but sweet nonetheless. He collected old war regalia, I swear his house was like a museum, it was so fun to explore growing up. He died about a month back, but I swear I saw him coming in and out of the back woods last weekend. I think I saw him again last night but… I haven’t been sleeping ever since that first time I saw him so maybe my mind is playing tricks on me…”

“I see,” you said while writing the details down in your own notebook. “Do you mind if I ask what kind of burial Dan had?”

The question shocked the woman as well as Sam so he quickly interjected with, “Sometimes reliving the experience can help with unpacking the mind if you’ve been overwhelmed. Maybe we can talk through it so we can address what’s possibly going on mentally.” Sam shot you a confused and concerned look out of the corner of his eye as the woman closed hers and massaged her temples. You were usually so sharp and cunning when it came to questioning witnesses, so with a slip-up like that Sam was starting to wonder what was going on with you…

When the woman finished rubbing her head, she opened her eyes and said, “Oh okay… well he had an open casket funeral in the park where he got married to his wife who passed away a few years ago. Not many people showed up except family and a few of us from the neighborhood.”

“Have you talked with anyone else in the neighborhood about these sightings? Perhaps anyone else who was at the funeral?” you asked.

“No, I haven’t left the house and a lot of them I don’t have their numbers to contact,” she replied. “The neighborhood isn’t as close as it used to be back in the day.”

“Do you mind if we talk with them to see if they’ve seen anything?” Sam asked.

“Be my guest,” she replied with a nod.

So you and Sam split up to talk with the other neighbors, keeping an eye on your surroundings for the man who was supposed to be dead. After about an hour, you and Sam met back up at the car to go over what you both knew.

“So two of the neighbors say that they don’t really pay attention to the woods but thought they might have heard something rustling around in them the other night,” you told him.

Sam rubbed the stubble on his chin as he said, “One I talked with told me that her son swears that he saw Dan heading toward the woods last night but she also said that she smelled weed and liquor on him when he told her so she didn’t believe him.”

“Well all clues say that if this is a ghoul he’s hiding in the woods so I guess we gear up and head into the belly of the beast,” you suggested as you opened the trunk and started grabbing weapons that could be useful: a couple of machetes as well as a shotgun just in case. If it was a ghoul you would need to destroy its head or decapitate it to kill it. Sam debated on asking you if you were feeling okay or if you needed to sit this one out but before he could you were already marching toward the woods, weapon on your hip.

As you headed into the woods, you lagged behind, your shorter legs unable to keep up with Sam as per usual. “Hold on, I’ve got little legs!” you said with a laugh as you jogged to catch up.

“Right, right. I forget how vertically challenged you are,” Sam said with a smirk.

“Or you’re just ridiculously tall,” you teased with a nudge to his ribs.

Teasing aside, Sam seemed to notice something so he put his hand up to signal for you to be quiet and you obliged, knowing that if Sam noticed something it was serious. As he inspected something hanging from the tree limb above, you heard a crack of branches in the nearby grove. Ready to attack at a moment’s notice, your hand went to the handle of your machete in case you needed to start swinging.

The next few seconds happened in a blur and you acted on instinct alone when you saw a figure barreling toward the pair of you, more specifically toward Sam’s turned back, brandishing an old Civil War type dagger. “Sam!” you shouted before jumping between the two men, swinging your machete at the ghoul, only to miss and drop your weapon as you doubled over onto the ground.

Sam reacted quickly once he heard you call out his name, grabbing the ghoul’s arm before he could get a hit in on him and quickly swinging his own machete at the monster, decapitating it with ease. When he started to fully take in the scene though, things began to move in slow motion. As he turned around to the last place he heard your voice he saw you clutching your abdomen and falling to the ground. His eyes went wide as he shouted your name in worry.

Once you hit the ground Sam was right there, holding you in his arms and listening to you say, “I’m fine, I’m fine,” as you attempted to get up.

Sam went to move the hair out of his eyes when he noticed that his hand that was previously on your abdomen was covered in blood. “I need to get you to the hospital,” he told you, trying to remain calm as he forced his voice to stay steady.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine, nothing a few stitches back at the bunker can’t fix,” you said, the adrenaline pumping through your veins not letting you feel the pain fully just yet. You took the moment to try and stand again but couldn’t, so you looked down at your shirt that was starting to slowly soak through with dark red blood. “Oh…” you said quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

“I need to get you outta here…” Sam said again, taking off his jacket and wrapping it tightly around you before picking you up and starting to sprint back toward the car. As he reached the car, he shouted to a neighbor, “Where’s the nearest hospital?!”

“It’s about half an hour away, head east and you’ll see it as you’re heading into the city,” the man told him. He saw the blood on Sam’s hands and asked with wide eyes, “Do you want me to call an ambulance?”

Sam didn’t respond as he placed you in the passenger seat before sprinting to his side of the car and speeding off, trying to keep pressure on the wound as he drove. After a few minutes, he looked over and saw your eyes starting to flutter shut so he took his hand off the wound to squeeze your hand and told you, “Stay with me…”

“I’m here, I’m here,” you replied quietly, your voice starting to get weak as your breathing began to grow shallow. “I’m just really tired…”

“No, no, no, no,” he said quickly, “you stay with me. You stay awake okay? We’re almost there.” he told you while putting more pressure on the gas pedal, hoping to cut the trip in half at least.

“I’ll try,” you replied weakly.

“Here, let’s talk. Let’s talk about that band you like, what is it, Party at the Disco?”

You laughed wearily before correcting him, “Panic! At the Disco, Sammy.”

“And how’s that one song go that you’re always singing? The one about the doors?”

“I really need you to pay attention to my music from now on because those were horrible guesses,” you told him with a weak laugh once again. You paused for a moment before adding, “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for always looking out for me,” you told him. “I know things haven’t always been the best between us but... You make my days brighter.”

“What- why are you talking like that?” he asked, his eyes momentarily leaving the road to glance at you.

“I’m losing a lot of blood Sammy, life isn’t guaranteed and you know it. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you,” you told him quietly. He could feel your hands and skin beginning to grow cold against his own as he held your hand.

“Don’t talk like that, don’t act like you’re saying goodbye. We’re almost to the hospital, you’re gonna make it through this,” he told you, his voice almost breaking at the thought of losing you. He saw the hospital in the distance and sped up impossibly faster, spotting the emergency room and heading in that direction.

Once he pulled in front of the building, he slammed the brakes of the car and sprinted over to your side, pulling you out of the seat and starting to carry you into the building. As he carried you in, you started to fade in and out of consciousness, whispering weakly, “I’m scared Sammy…”

“I know, but you’ll make it. I know you will,” he told you as he got you inside. The second you were inside, he shouted, “Help! She needs help!”

“Oh my God,” the nurse at the desk gasped with wide eyes, seeing the amount of blood that had soaked your shirt and bled onto Sam’s.

The nurse shouted for help and a group of people came sprinting over with a stretcher to get you back into a room. As Sam placed you on the stretcher, you looked up at him and felt like this could be your last shot to confess your feelings, so you whispered, “Thank you Sam. I love you…” before getting wheeled off to be worked on.

“Wait…!” he shouted after you as you were taken away. Did you just say what he thought you did?

He tried to follow the workers, but was held back by a couple of male nurses who told him, “They need room to work, please calm down sir!”

“But… I just… Shit…” he whispered, his body deflating as your words hitting him right in the heart.

“Can you tell us what happened?” one of the nurses asked.

Sam hesitated for a moment, shock taking over his body, but he eventually replied, “Occupational hazard. A perp went after her. Big gash on her abdomen. I got her here as fast as I could…” Did she just say she loved me? he thought to himself as he was escorted to a chair by the nurses.

“We’re going to do what we can to help her, I’ll keep you updated as we know more,” he told Sam before heading back to the floor to see your status.

Sam sat for a minute with his head in his hands before going out to move his car and call Dean. “Hey Sammy, what’s up? Did you get that ghoul taken care of?” came Dean’s voice through the phone. Sam couldn’t find the words he wanted to say and the silence bugged Dean so he asked, “Sam are you okay?”

“She got hurt. Badly, Dean,” he said quietly, his voice shaking.

“Well how bad is badly?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“God there was so much blood…” Sam whispered, looking down at one of his blood stained hands while shaking his head.

“Well, is she alive?! I need something more than things are bad!” Dean nearly shouted into the phone.

“Barely. By the time we got to the hospital she had almost passed out, she was pale, and I think she felt like she was gonna die…”

“Oh wow…” Dean replied quietly. “Where are you?”

“It’s fine Dean, take care of that ghost,” Sam told him, not really wanting company because he was still trying to process everything.

“The damn ghost can wait, I already trapped it. I can tell them to try and look for his possessions while I’m gone. I’m already getting in Baby,” Dean said and Sam could hear the impala roar to life. Once the noise level was suitable to hear over the phone again, he asked, “Have you tried contacting Cas?”

“I didn’t think about it,” Sam admitted quietly.

“Sam, we have an angel at our disposal who can heal with one touch and you didn’t think to call him when there’s a life-threatening injury on our hands?” Dean asked, a bit of frustration seeping into his voice.

“Everything happened so fast I just didn’t think about it,” Sam replied defensively. He let out a sigh before adding, “I’m at Woodcrest General on the outskirts of Hoover.”

“I’m on my way. You start praying to Cas and I’ll try his cell. Got it?”

“Got it,” Sam replied before hanging up the phone and heading back inside.

When he emerged back into the building, the nurse at the desk told him, “If you want a pair of scrubs and to clean off I can get you access to the shower room, Agent.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Sam told her, really not wanting to be in his blood soaked clothes anymore. As the nurse took him to the shower room, he asked, “Are there any updates on her?“

“She was rushed down to the OR just now. The doctor said it doesn’t look like there’s too much internal damage, she just lost a lot of blood. She… she did lose consciousness right as transport was taking her down to the OR though.”

“Damnit…” Sam whispered, closing his eyes and sighing.

“It’ll be a little while before we have answers, I’m sorry. Maybe the shower will help calm you down a bit,” she told him as she let him into the room and showed him the cabinet with scrubs in it.

“Thanks,” he told her before she headed back out. Sam took his time with the shower, washing all the blood out from his skin and hair and taking a few minutes to just cry. How could he have let this happen? It’s always been his and Dean’s unspoken job to watch out for you and he failed… He should have stopped you from heading into those damn woods…

After he dried off and put some scrubs from the cabinet on, Sam closed his eyes and folded his hands as he began to pray. “Castiel. I know you’re probably busy, but I really need you." His voice broke as he whispered your name, telling the angel, "We were on a hunt and…and she was hurt badly and I’m not sure if this hospital has the ability to heal her. I know it’s a long shot and we shouldn’t use your grace so willy nilly, but… I can’t lose her… Amen.”

Freshened up, Sam made his way to the waiting area where he sat alone with his thoughts, occasionally praying to Cas again in hope that he would hear his call.

The time crawled by and felt like forever even though it was only a few hours before Sam heard, “Agent Williams?” coming from the same nurse from earlier.

Sam looked up with hope in his eyes and asked, “Yes ma’am?”

“She’s out of surgery now. I can take you to her room,” she said with a small smile.

“Thank you,” he told her, relief flooding his body.

While they walked together to the nearby elevators, she told him, “I don’t want to give you false hope, she isn’t out of the woods yet. The surgeon closed her up, but there may be complications. This hospital doesn’t usually see cases like Agent Hanna’s.”

“Oh…” Sam said, desperately hoping that Cas heard his prayers now.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great surgeon, but he just doesn’t deal with severe injuries like hers on the regular. I don’t say that to scare you, but we just have to be realistic here. If she gets any worse we may have to transport her out to a bigger hospital.”

“Got it,” he replied as they reached the floor that you were on.

“Here’s her room. She’s still out of it and receiving blood right now,” the nurse told him as she opened the door to let him in.

“Thank you,” he told her with a nod before heading into the room. He took out his phone and texted Dean the floor and room number before pulling up a chair beside your bed. He took a moment to look at your still pale skin and grabbed your hand as he whispered, “I’m so sorry…”

After a few minutes, Sam closed his eyes and sent one last prayer Castiel’s way before he jumped when he heard a sharp knock on the door as it opened up. He looked up to see Dean and Cas coming into the room, looks of concern on their faces. “How is she?” Dean asked.

“I mean she’s alive… The nurse told me that there may be complications though and if she doesn’t get better soon they may have to ship her off to a bigger facility,” Sam replied quietly, looking at the monitor to watch your heart rate. After a few moments of silence, he told them, “She sacrificed herself to save me. That ghoul was coming at us quick and my back was turned so she jumped in. She barely got a swing in on it before it got her with a dagger.”

“Did you get the ghoul?” Cas asked.

“Yeah. But then I saw how much she was bleeding… God there was so much blood…” he whispered, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat before adding, “She seemed like she thought she was gonna die because before they took her back she told me that she loved me…”

Dean scoffed before muttering, “About damn time…”

“What does that mean?” Sam asked, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“Sam, you’re about as oblivious as a brick wall. That girl has loved you for years. She never told you because, well, you know how she is. She doesn’t like stepping on toes and would rather others be happy before she is so she let you get into all these relationships and faked being happy for you while she not so secretly drank away her pain.”

“I… I had no idea…” Sam whispered. All the times you had shown him what he thought was sisterly affection, the moments where you tried to make him laugh in his darkest moments, how you’ve stuck by his side through everything, all came flooding to him and he realized that even if it wasn’t obvious, he had started to develop feelings for you too.

“Well now you do and once she’s healed up you better make the most of it,” Dean told him.

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Sam asked, feeling horrible that he’s led you to so much pain throughout the years.

“It wasn’t my place,” Dean replied simply.

Interrupting their conversation, Cas cleared his throat and said, “I don’t mean to interrupt this conversation about feelings, but if I could maybe look at her wound to see if I can heal her…”

“Right,” Sam said, standing up and getting out of the way so Cas could lift up your gown to see the damage.

When the gown was pulled away, it was revealed that the dressing the surgeon had put on was soaked through with blood already. Seeing this, Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his hair as he began to pace the room. “Sam calm down,” Dean told him sternly.

“She’s still bleeding!” Sam said back sharply.

“And he’s an angel!” Dean snapped back, not wanting to show that he was worried too.

“I should be able to heal her,” Cas told Sam reassuringly as he laid his hand over the dressing. He closed his eyes and channeled his grace to heal the wound, sealing it up and repairing the bits of undetected internal damage as well. Once the angel grace’s light left his body, he nodded and said, “She’s healed,” before replacing your gown and covering you back up.

Sam sighed in relief and smiled before whispering, “Thank you.”

A few moments later, your eyes began to flutter open and you looked around before weakly whispering, “Sam?”

“Yeah? I’m here, I’m here, you’re safe,” he told you as he made his way back over to your side. He took your hand before nodding to Cas and telling you, “Cas healed you.”

“Oh, thank you Cas,” you said with a small smile.

“No problem,” he replied with a nod.

There was a moment of silence while you looked down at your hand that was being held by Sam’s, so Dean said, “I think there’s something you two need to talk about. We’ll be in the waiting area. Come on Cas.”

Once it was just the two of you in the room, Sam cleared his throat before he said, “So about what you said right before you were taken away…”

Remembering that you told him that you loved him, you quickly looked away and said, “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to make things weird… I know you want a normal girl with a normal life and I… I can’t give that to you…”

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Sam said softly. You shyly turned back toward him and he told you, “I was just shocked. I think I've accepted that normal just isn’t gonna work out for me. Dean told me that you’ve been feeling that way for a while now and… I guess I’m just wondering if you would want to give us a shot?”

A smile made its way onto your face and you nodded, a happy tear slipping from your eye. Sam leaned in to kiss you, but you stopped him, saying with a laugh, “No, no. I don’t want our first kiss to be in this damn hospital room.”

“Fair enough,” Sam said with a quiet laugh, redirecting and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead instead. After a few seconds, Sam told you, “Thank you. For saving me from that ghoul. I should've been looking out for you though.”

“Any time,” you replied with a small laugh.

Later that day when the doctor came to assess your wound, he was a bit taken back by the healing of it, saying, “It’s a miracle…”

“It really is, isn’t it?” Cas asked, trying to hide his smirk.

“So when’s she clear to go home, Doc?” Dean asked.

“I mean we would like to hold her overnight for observation, but if all goes well she should be able to discharge tomorrow,” he replied, still staring at the scar on your abdomen.

Sam took a step away and bit his knuckle, trying not to laugh as the surgeon stepped out of the room, a flabbergasted look on his face. When he left the room, Dean was the first to speak, saying, “Okay let’s all admit, that man had no confidence in himself.”

“Nope,” Sam said with a laugh.

“I’m glad Cas showed up if that’s the dude who operated on me, damn…” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“I’m glad I could be of service,” Cas told you with a smile.

“Well if you’re stable now, I think Cas and I can head back to that ghost case I abandoned to come check on you. I’ll see you later kid,” Dean said to you before squeezing your shoulder and heading out of the room with Cas in tow.

The next morning you were discharged so you and Sam made your way back to the bunker together. The ride back was filled with you playing your favorite songs to educate Sam as well as stopping at a restaurant for your first official date.

When you got back to the bunker, Sam closed the door to the garage behind you and you wrapped your arms around him before standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. Sam smiled into the kiss and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. This prompted you to deepen the kiss, swiping your tongue on his bottom lip, wanting more. Sam obliged and your kisses quickly turned desperate, wanting something more than a simple kiss now that you were in each other’s arms.

Before he even thought about it, Sam lifted you into his strong arms and began kissing your neck as he took you to his room, leaving the beginnings of a hickey behind. As he did this, little whimpers began to slip from your lips as pleasure sparked through your body. When he got to his room, Sam pinned you against the door as he began to kiss you once again. Being in such a vulnerable position made you weak in the knees and you moaned Sam’s name as you continued to lose yourselves in one another's lips.

“Yeah?” he asked as he moved back to your neck, sucking and making the hickey darker, evoking another whimper from your lips that just fueled him more.

“God I need you so bad,” you whispered, grinding your hips against him in hopes of some sort of relief for the growing tension between your thighs.

“How about I make that wish come true?” he asked as he took you to his bed, gently putting you down before slipping out of his flannel and undershirt. You followed suit, slipping off your shirt and earning a smile from Sam as he told you, “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re so sweet,” you said with a giggle as Sam got onto the bed, placing you on his lap as he continued to kiss you. Now it was your turn to tease him. As you kissed, you slowly ground down on Sam’s lap, feeling him grow harder beneath you as you did.

“Shit,” Sam breathed as he leaned his head back against the wall, bucking his hips up against you.

You kissed his neck before whispering in his ear, “I want you to rock me Sammy.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied with a chuckle, unbuckling his belt while you hopped off the bed momentarily. You turned your back to him as you took off your bra and then sweats and panties, teasing him by shaking your ass at him with a laugh. “Oh you’re gonna get it for that,” he said with a laugh as he slipped off his jeans and underwear, standing up to pull you into his arms once more.

Sam pushed against you, teasing you with the tip of his hard cock, the sparks of pleasure making him desperate for more. He lifted you up once more and placed you on the bed, running his fingers along your thigh and up to your clit, making you gasp in pleasure. “Don’t be a tease,” you whispered.

“I’m just seeing how wet you are,” he said with a smirk before kissing your neck as he slipped a couple fingers in with ease.

“God Sam I just want you to fuck me,” you said with desperation in your voice, grinding against his fingers, wanting - no, needing - more.

“As you wish,” he said, his voice impossibly deep as he pulled his fingers out and rubbed the slick on his cock. “I see patience isn’t your strong suit, huh?” he asked teasingly as he lined up with your entrance. Without much of a warning, he thrusted in with a deep moan.

“Fuck you’re amazing,” you whispered, your head falling back on the pillow as Sam slowly began to kick up his pace, the pleasure overcoming his body as restraint started to leave his muscles.

“So are you,” he told you, his face falling into the crook of your neck as he let out a soft groan of pleasure.

“Can I try something?“ he asked after a few minutes of slow and sweet love-making, feeling his release starting to build and wanting to make this as good as possible for you.

“Yeah,” you replied with a nod. With your permission, Sam lifted your legs up and hooked them around his broad shoulders, the new angle hitting all the right spots, the pleasure for both of you becoming insurmountable. The moan alone that you let out was almost enough to make Sam come, and your near pornographic whimpering of his name upped the ante even more.

Sam brought one of his hands to your clit and began rubbing, desperate to make you feel as good as possible and it seemed to work because your moans and whimpers just kept coming and it was almost enough to make him burst. “Fuck I’m close,” Sam whispered, speeding up his pace as his thrusts started to become erratic.

“Me too,” you breathed, your hands grasping at the sheets on either side of you as your eyes rolled into the back of your head momentarily.

“Fuck…” Sam grunted as he felt his orgasm building impossibly fast, not wanting this feeling to end.

“Oh my God, Sam, Sam!” you moaned as you felt herself coming undone around him. The pulsing of your sweet cunt around him drove Sam over the edge and he pulled out at the last second, moaning your name in a deep gravelly voice. Before he came, Sam quickly grabbed his shirt off the side of the bed and put it around himself so he wouldn't make a mess as he came undone, his muscles twitching as he did so.

Out of breath, Sam tossed the shirt aside and laid down beside you on the bed wrapping an arm around you, completely relaxed. You rested your head on his chest and listened to his racing heartbeat begin to slow down as you ran your fingers along his abs. “That was amazing,” Sam whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“Well worth the wait,” you replied with a giggle.

Not even a few seconds later you began to drift off to sleep on Sam’s chest which made him smile. Feeling completely relaxed and safe for the first time in a while, you drifted off to sleep and finally got the rest you’d been needing for weeks.

a/n: and here we are at the end of my second one shot! since i started writing these one shots i've started to feel more confident in writing reader fics so we'll see if i end up getting out more one shots for various fandoms! here is a link to my (minimal at the moment) masterlist where you can find my Steve Rogers long fic as well as a Bucky Barnes one shot. soon to join those will be a Daredevil x OC fic i have written, so be on the lookout for that if that's one of your fandoms! anyways, i hope you all enjoyed this sweet, angsty, fluffy, smutty piece!

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #supernatural #one shot #pwp #fanfic #fluff #smut #sam winchester x female reader #saving people hunting things #light angst

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hells-plaid-angel · 4 months

Text

Dean had the lung capacity of a deep-sea diver. After years of holding his breath as he drove through tunnels, he'd honed the skill, only gasping for breath when the Impala's windshield broke through the darkness and into the light. The habit had formed as a child but lingered into adulthood as most childhood fantasies did.

As a boy, his father raised him on superstition. If you made a wish when the world was swallowed by blackness and you could hold your breath until the end of a tunnel, that wish would come true. Over the years he'd wished for a hundred stupid things. He'd wished his mother was still alive, that he lived a normal life or that a pretty girl would look his way. He'd wished his father had been the one who'd died in the fire. He wished he didn't feel that way.

Once Dean had blacked out in the backseat of the Impala when driving the I-90 through Boston. He'd come to with Sammy squealing like a stuck pig and John Winchester cursing like a sailor. For the next year, being in Massachusetts made him feel light-headed.

Kids and old men are similar in their love of rituals. Dean was no longer a child, but he wasn't ready to call himself an old man. The ritual had changed over the years, but at its heart, it was always the same.

Dean found his new ritual each night he woke from a nightmare. That night, he found himself in the bunker. The image of his hands covered in blood lingered in the darkness of the room. He held his breath wishing for the dream not to be true. He only breathed when he switched on the lights and found his hands clean. In his dreams, Cas was always dying.

The nightmares weren't helped by the fact that the angel had died, numerous times. His sleep-addled mind took time to sort fact from fiction. Had Cas come back this time?

Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that death didn't always stick. Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that the universe liked to make him suffer. Both statements were equally true.

In the nightmare, Cas had died in his arms. He'd awoken, held his breath, switched on the lights and choked out a breath, which sounded suspiciously like a sob. When the drowning feeling reseeded he found himself exiting his bedroom, searching for the object of his nightmares as a drowning man searches for land.

Dean would never admit to himself he was looking for Cas, but the knowledge was there. There were many things Dean knew but wasn't ready to admit.

Dean found the angel in the library of the bunker, absentmindedly flicking through ancient texts and Sam's collection of trashy fitness and lifestyle magazines indiscriminately. A heavy weight on his chest dissipated. Cas looked up at Dean's sharp inhale. He could breathe again.

"Hello, Dean," the angel greeted, as though he were late to some prearranged meeting.

"Morning, Cas," Dean spoke, for lack of a better topic of conversation. He collapsed into the seat beside Cas.

"It's currently 3:15 a.m. and the sun isn't scheduled to rise until 5:25."

"Thanks for the weather report, buddy," Dean griped. His tone lacked the usual exasperated edge he used when Cas said something that struck him as particularly alien, which was often.

"How are you, Dean? You seem... unmoored."

People in the twenty-first century didn't use words like 'unmoored'. Dean knew exactly what Cas wasn't saying. Dean seemed upset. If there was one thing Dean didn't cope well with, it was being anything less than 'fine'. They were experts in each other's pathology, which would always feel strange. Dean wasn't used to being known.

"Can we talk about something else?" Dean had been working on the concept of denial. However, avoidance was fair game.

"If I'm going to be staying here long term, I want to buy better magazines," Cas stated, tossing the magazine haphazardly. He'd been staying for longer than usual. Dean kept feeling like he was holding his breath, waiting for the angel to disappear.

"We can drive into town come morning. Need to clear my head anyway."

"You haven't been sleeping well," Cas observed, his eyes shifting their attention to Dean. The blue-grey eyes said more than his words. His eyes were an ocean to an inexperienced swimmer. Not everyone could read them. Dean could. There was something more to them. A strong rip beneath steady water. There was a storm raging beneath the surface.

"It's creepy that you've noticed that," Dean remarked.

"You haven't been very quiet."

Dean wondered how much Cas heard. Did he talk in his sleep? Did he call out Cas' name in the night? Had the angel heard the moments of weakness where Dean had let himself muffle sobs behind his hand?

"This isn't changing the subject."

"I've been changing the subject all week. Evidently, it's not working," Cas' voice was resolute.

He and Dean shared their stubbornness, which always led to unproductive stalemates. They were two bucks with their antlers interlocked, starving and trapped in their own idiocy.

"The thing about being human, Cas, is that things don't magically just get fixed because you want them to." Dean rebuked.

"I'm aware, but have you actually tried to fix it?"

They were fighting. Why were they fighting?

"Talking never really solved much in my line of work. You know that."

"Is this about work?" Cas questioned.

They hadn't had any difficult hunts in weeks. Cas knew it wasn't about the job. He wanted Dean to know he knew.

"It doesn't matter what it's about. That's not the point. You don't get it." Dean felt the truth pushing its way up to the surface.

"Then help me understand."

"The problem —." Dean began before he felt anger or frustration choke the words from him.

"The problem is you keep dying."

He'd expected Cas to baulk at the confession. Dean wasn't one for sharing fears or feelings. What he hadn't expected was the look of horror that settled on the angel's face.

Dean scowled and scrubbed at his cheek, quietly cursing himself when his palm pulled back wet. Over the years, he'd gotten good at crying quietly. He hated that he was able to hide it from himself. Men didn't cry. Dean didn't cry. It was a lie, not so much a superstition, but a fable. A story he told himself.

"Dean I — I didn't realise my death... affected you so much. I apologise for the oversight," Cas spoke slowly, as though deliberately choosing each word with care.

How the hell could Cas not know his death, every goddamn one, hurt Dean? Cas was family.

"Yeah, well, I pegged you for a lot of things, Cas. Stupid wasn't one of 'em. So just... Be careful. I'm going to bed," Dean mumbled, praying for a quick exit.

Cas grabbed Dean's arm as he passed, stilling him. Dean felt the restriction return to his throat. He held his breath. He wished Cas knew what he meant without having to say it out loud.

Neither man spoke. The silence stretched long and loud between them. Cas clung to Dean's arm like a dying man to a life raft. For his part, Dean was just trying to stay afloat. Slowly, almost imperceptibly so, Cas' palm slid down to hold Dean's hand. Dean let him, which was as good as a confession.

There would be no confessions. A confession implied guilt, something that Dean had in droves, but not about Cas. It wasn't a lie so much as it was a fable. If a story was told long enough it became history.

He and Cas were still in the dark, biding time between apocalypses. He wished that when they finally found themselves in brighter times, there would be no need for confessions.

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 5 months

Text

Let It Out

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Castiel & teen!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Having two older brothers who fight monsters had its own set of problems. Being a witch doubled those problems. Suffering from a depression that you didn’t dare tell your family about, that just multiplied everything until every little task felt impossible to complete with such a weight on top of you.

You had had a handle on your life for a long time—after all, you were used to the hunting and the lack of sleep and the loss. That is, until a certain archangel friend of yours died. That was when your depression really got going—Gabriel was gone, and it was like his death reminded you of everyone you’d ever lost, and you couldn’t take it.

The worst part was that you couldn’t tell your brothers; they were busy saving the world, the last thing they needed to hear about was your problems. Besides, they had it just as hard as you, if not harder. Why should you make it all about you?

So, you didn’t say anything, and it was taking its toll on you and your skill set. Magic was dependent on emotions, and yours were everywhere.

It wasn’t just your magic that was changing; school wasn’t going so well either. The boys were too busy to have noticed, but your grades were dropping and—

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice snapped you out of your reverie, and you turned to see him holding up a piece of paper. When you caught a glimpse of the front, your stomach dropped. It was your report card. “What’s this?”

“I-um…” you had nothing to say.

“You can do better than this. Much better. We both know that, so what happened?”

“I-I just…got distracted.”

“Distracted?” You hadn’t noticed Dean in the corner of the room until he stood up and spoke. “By what, hunting? I thought you agreed, school comes first.”

“It does!” You insisted. “I just—“

“If you can’t do both, you know which one you’re dropping,” Sam said.

“No!” You panicked. Hunting was the only outlet you had for your powers, and right now your powers were the only outlet you had for your grief.

“We agreed!” Dean insisted. “You said you would drop hunting if you can’t do both.”

“But I can!”

“This says otherwise.” Sam waved your report card.

“That’s not fair!” You cried. “One report card doesn’t-“

“Your grades have been dropping for a while,” Sam interrupted. “I just didn’t think they would get this bad. I should’ve mentioned it sooner, I just…” he sighed. “I thought it would get better.”

“It will! Don’t stop me from hunting,” you pleaded.

“You’re not giving me much of a choice!”

“Sam, you can’t—“

“That’s enough,” Dean barked, and you both shut up. “We made an agreement, and you’re going to honor it. Until the grades go up, you’re not hunting.” Dean slung his bag over his shoulder as he spoke. “We’ve got work to do. You stay here and study for that test you told me about, understand?” Dean’s tone left no room for argument.

“I understand,” you grumbled, unable to look him in the eye, whether from anger or sadness you weren’t sure.

“Good.”

Your brothers were gone without another word.

As the Impala’s engine started up and the boys drove away, your hands curled into fists and you let out a yell of frustration. You jumped in surprise when the table next to you fell over. Did you bump it? You didn’t think you did.

Maybe you needed to pay closer attention to your powers. Or maybe you just needed to put them to good use.

…

“What do you think you’re doing here?” Dean demanded.

“I think I’m saving your bacon!” You retorted before casting a spell on the closest ghoul.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Sam insisted before taking a headshot at the ghoul heading for Dean.

“You’re welcome,” you grumbled as Dean shot the ghoul that you had petrified with your spell.

“Y/N behind yo-“ a third ghoul pounced on you before Sam got the chance to warn you.

Dean tried to aim at it, but he couldn’t get a clear shot without risking hitting you.

Sam jumped into action at your cry of pain. The ghoul had bitten into your shoulder before Sam managed to tackle it off you.

As soon as you and Sam were clear, Dean blasted the ghoul’s head off.

“Y/N?” Sam was by your side in an instant, peeling the fabric of your shirt away from your bleeding shoulder, cringing when you cried out in pain. “Ok, you’re ok, you’re gonna be fine.”

“That was crazy,” Dean grumbled as he knelt next to you to examine your injury. “That was really stupid, kid.”

“I-I didn’t see him,” you cringed. “I-I’m sor-“ you broke off with a cry of pain when Dean lifted your head, jostling your injured shoulder.

“You shouldn’t have even been here,” Dean sighed, glaring at you. “And I thought you got that guy with a spell! Your magic doesn’t seem to—“

“Dean, she’s bleeding a lot,” Sam interrupted quietly, glancing nervously at the growing puddle of blood beneath you. “I think we should try for Cas.”

“Hey Cas,” Dean stepped away from you to talk to the angel. “Cas, we need you over here! Y/N’s hurt pretty bad. Can you—“

“I’m here.” Sam jumped in surprise when Castiel appeared next to you.

“Cas,” you croaked, whimpering when Sam moved to make room for Cas.

“Shh, it’s alright little one. This won’t hurt at all.” Cas placed two fingers on your forehead, and your wound slowly sealed itself with a blue glow.

“Thanks Cas,” you breathed as you slowly sat up, rubbing your shoulder as the pain slowly went away.

“Cas,” Dean spoke up. “I think her magic’s gone all wack, can you—“

“Dean, I’m fine, really,” you said. The last thing you wanted was your brothers looking in too deep to why your powers seemed to be failing. You would look weak.

“Her powers aren’t anything physical,” Cas said. “If they’re not working correctly, she either mispronounced the spell, or she’s not in the correct mental state to perform magic.”

“Cas.” You wanted to interrupt him, but it was too late.

“Y/N.” Dean stepped closer to you, and you ducked your head to avoid his gaze. “Sweetheart what’s he talking about?”

“I’m fine.” Your voice came out small and timid.

“Y/N, talk to me.” Sam stepped forwards.

You shook your head, blinking hard and fast in a failed attempt to keep the tears at bay. Your hand unconsciously sought out something to hold onto, and your fingers clamped onto Cas’s trench coat.

“Are you alright?” Cas’s gentle voice was the only invitation you needed, and you practically flung yourself into his arms, burying your face against his shirt as your tears began to fall. Cas froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, but slowly he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you tightly against him.

“It’s alright,” he soothed. “It’s ok, I’ve got you little one.”

“I can’t do this anymore,” you sobbed, clutching onto Cas like a life preserver. “I-I miss Gabriel. And-and Joe and Ellen, and my-and my dad.”

“I know,” Cas sighed. “I know, it’s ok.”

“I didn’t mean for it to mess up the hunt.”

“It’s not your fault,” Cas promised. “You’re allowed to feel like this. It’s ok to feel sad, it’s ok.”

“Maybe we should take her home,” Sam cut in.

“Don’t go.” Cas’s heart constricted at your whimpered plea as you held on even tighter to him.

“I won’t,” he whispered to you before looking at Sam. “Go on, I’ve got her.” With that, Cas disappeared with you.

You jumped in surprise when you arrived suddenly in your room.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“I’m ok,” you sniffled, still unwilling to let go of Cas.

“Ok.” Cas smiled. “Would you like to lay down?”

You nodded, and Cas led you over to your bed and let you lean on top of him after he laid down.

“I’m sorry,” you said finally, your throat constricting as the tears returned.

“Don’t ever apologize for what you’re feeling,” Cas said, wrapping his arms around you. “You can let it out now, you don’t have to hide it.”

“I just don’t want Sam and Dean to think I can’t do this,” you cried.

“You can trust them. You don’t have to be alone with this, you never do.”

You didn’t respond, and Cas didn’t push it. He held you in his arms and you finally let out your years upon years of tears that you hadn’t let yourself cry before. Eventually you fell asleep, and still Cas didn’t move.

Most times when he was needed, it was so he could heal your or your brothers physically, and that was easy for him. This was much harder; he wasn’t well versed in human emotion, and he wasn’t all that sure that he was helping you correctly, but he sensed that his presence was all you needed.

So here he would stay.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy

#dean winchester #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #the winchesters #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #castiel & winchester!reader #castiel & reader #castiel x winchester!reader #castiel x reader #spn castiel #castiel novak #castiel

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bitchjerk78 · 2 months

Text

USE YOUR WORDS

SUMMARY: y/n helps Dean after he got injured during a fight with a demon

WORDS COUNT: 2600

PAIRING: reader x Dean Winchester

WARNINGS: smut, unprotected sex, dirty talking

You sigh while you walk towards Dean, his face dark and angry. He has his big hand on his shoulder pressing the wound he got while he was fighting that demon, the same one you could kill thanks to Sam help

<<Dean>> you whisper his name softly as you are almost scared to talk to him. His green eyes move fast in your direction and you stop breathing

<<What the hell do you want, y/n?>> his voice is harsh, deep. Full of pain and rage. You close your eyes for a second, remembering that the two of you don't really get along

<<Let me check that wound>> you reply with a firm voice. Yes, maybe you can't stand each other, but now it's different. You're not fighting for some stupid shit, he's hurt and you have to help him, even if you want to slap him most of the time

<<It's fine>> you roll your eyes bothered by his stubbornness

<> you took a step closer <<let me check the wound>> he stands properly and he looks up and down your body

<<Sam will do it when he's back>> you bite your lip even more close to losing your cool

<<Sam is covering our tracks, we don't know for how long he's going to be away and that wound needs to be suited, so you either go to a hospital or you let me check it>> your voice is confident and you look at him while you notice you can't breathe properly, the air in your lungs disappeared and you just can't inhale more. It's like everything stops while he lowers his eyes, and he nods slowly

<<Fine>> that's the only word that comes out of his mouth, but it's enough for you to get even closer and check it. When you see the blood, the skin torn apart, and the suffering expression on his face, you just can't hate him like you always used to do. You see it for what he is, just a boy. An asshole, sometimes that's for sure, but just a boy who needs help

<<Okay, why don't you sit down so I can stitch you up>> oddly, he does what you said and you can't help but notice his eyes looking at you in a way they have never done before. It's like they are looking at you for real, like they just noticed you <<Come here>> you whisper as you pour some alcohol on a tissue to disinfect the shoulder <<That bastard really got you>> you hear him chuckle and that makes you feel strange, Dean is chuckling, with you... <<Am I making you laugh?>> you ask while you put a needle in his skin to close the wound

<<No>> he growls due to the pain but he doesn't say anything about it, of course he's too proud to admit he's in pain <> he says biting his bottom lip when you put some pressure on the wound

<<Shut up, Dean>> you roll your eyes and shake your head in disapproval

<<Shut up, Dean>> he says back, mocking you.You open your mouth slightly when you turn towards him <<Close your mouth, little girl. You never know what might slip into it>> as soon as you realise the joke, you pull away

<<Gross>> you shake your head again but you keep cleaning the wound

<<Oh come on>> he smirks <<Don't tell me you get embarrassed for something like that>> his deep voice makes you shiver in pleasure

<<No, of course not>> but you know you're lying, you know that you get embarrassed and you know why. Because even if you don't like him very much, you couldn't help but think about what would be like to feel him close. His hands on your trembling body. His lips between your shaking legs. His voice in your ear, whispering some secret desire

<<You are blushing, y/n>> he tilts his head <<Stop pretending>> you frown at his words, and you get up from the chair, hoping you can get away with this <<You think I don't know? You think I'm so naive I didn't notice the way you look at me?>> you stay still, too surprised to even move a single muscle

<> you mumble but you can feel your heart beating way too fast and your panties getting way too wet just after some of his words

<<Liar>> he whispers in your ear, and you can feel his nose brushing against your jaw <<Bet you're hoping I'll touch you>> you find the strength to pull back and you look at him in disbelief

<<The hell is wrong with you?>> you raise your voice a little. his eyes looks at you and he opens his mouth

<<I...I'm sorry>> he says lowering his eyes <> you take a deep breath

<<Don't you ever do something like that again, don't you dare to treat me like one of your girls, Dean!>> you point a finger at him <<Because I'll fucking kick your ass>> you were hoping to see him a little scared, but his lips curls in a smile

<<I've always liked your determination>> your heart stops for a second <<The way you're independent, you don't need someone to defend you. You can do that yourself>> he takes a step closer and you raise your eyes to meet his <<Always ready to fight>> his hand gets closer to your face and he puts some of your hair behind your ear <<You have no idea how much you turn me on when you look at me all mad>> your mouth gets dry and your hands start sweating

<<What are you saying?>> you manage to ask because your voice is so low, too full of desire

<<I'm saying that I crave you>> everything stops <> another small step towards you and your lips are just inches apart <> two of his fingers trapped your chin so you're obliged to look at him <<Since the first day you walked through that door, I wanted you, I needed you>> you are speechless, all this is too surreale. It's like your dreams are coming true and you don't know how much you can resist the urge to grab him and finally kiss him

<<Dean, please>> you whisper out of breath

<<Please, what? Use your words, princess>> you bite your lip, and you feel his thumb touching your mouth <<Come on, I know you can do that. You like to talk so much, do it now too>> he smirks and he reaches your ear <<You're not nervous, right?>> he teases you <<Am I making you nervous, y/n?>>

<<N-no>> your voice is so full of pleasure that you almost moan as you talk

<<You really like to lie, little girl>> he says and his hands end up on your waist <<Why don't you stop pretending and you show me how much you want it?>> and without even notice it, your face gets so close to his

<<If we do this, there's no going back>> you whisper inches from his mouth

<<Oh baby, going back it's the last thing I want>> you gasp when you feel his lips on yours and, even if the feeling of it it's amazing, the only thing you're thinking is finally. He kisses you so passionately that you're almost out of breath, his tongue licks your lips slowly as you feel your knees getting weaker and you panties getting wet, you almost sure you are dripping on your thighs

<<What if Sam- >> Dean stops you, grabbing from your legs and putting you on the table

<<Honestly, y/n>> his lips end up on your neck making you shiver and moan softly as his hands keep grabbing your waist in a possessive way, his fingers pressing into your skin <> he wraps his big hand around your throat squeezing it softly <<So why you don't shut up and show me how much you want it>> the only thing you can do is nodding and you find yourself biting your lip as his mouth kiss your chest from above the t-shirt <<Bet you're so wet right now, am I right little girl?>> you shake your head but his smirk tells you he knows you're lying. So you stop breathing when his hand touches the throbbing part between your legs

<<Oh God>> you moan softly rolling your eyes back trying to keep your voice low

<<Lift your hips, baby>> now your pants are now on the floor, and you know he can see your panties all wet <<Look at the mess you made>> he shakes his head. You start shaking when his fingers rub your inner thigh <<Your dripping, y/n>> his breathing is low, full of passion and desire. The lust in his eyes is so noticeable that you almost lose control <<So you want me to lick it?>> you nod and look at him as he reach your mouth <<It's not so simple, princess>> he brushes his lips against yours <<You have to beg for what you want>> with a finger he starts touch you from above your wet panties <<So beg for it, y/n>> his movements are slow and light. So soft you almost can't feel it, but you know it's there touching you, making you go crazy <<Use your pretty mouth and beg me, come on. I know you can do it>> and while he keeps looking at you with a teasing smile, he kisses your inner thigh in the same soft way he was touching you. You feel your entire body on fire, and the desire of feeling it is so unbearable that you start moaning and shaking

<<Please>> you whisper out of breath, hoping he'll finally do it, but his soft laugh catches you off guard

<<Louder, baby>> he says biting the warm skin close to your soaked panties <<Be a good girl and say what you want me to do>>

<<Kiss me>> you say with your face on fire but he shakes his head

<<Be more specific, kiss you where?>> you close your eyes for a second, but you manage to whisper a couple more words

<<Kiss me there>> you can see his proud smile all across his face while his hands push your hips down

<<Good girl>> and with that, you finally feel his lips between your shaking legs

<<God!>> you lay on the table as your hand ends up in his soft hair <<Fuck>> you arch your back pushing your hips closer to his mouth. You can hear him moaning as his tongue licks the right spot over and over

<<God, y/n>> you almost scream when he bite your skin and suck it soon after <<You're so fucking delicious>> his hand reaches your throat while the other keep pushing your hip down the table

<<Dean!>> your head falls back on the table when two of his fingers start pushing inside you

<<Yes, good girl. Come for me>> you can feel it in your chest you're close, the fire is spreading all over your body and the shaking is unstoppable <<Come on my tongue, princess>> you arch your back one more time before the orgasm leaves your mouth while you moan his name over and over <<Such a good girl>> he smirks as he kisses your lips making you taste yourself <> he grab your legs and he push you close to his body

<<Shut up>> you say rolling your eyes trying to not be effected by his low voice and teasing words

<<Shut up? I'm pretty sure you like when I talk to you>> you hear his jeans opening and you look at his big and throbbing cock in his hand <<Oh, I know you'd like that>> he smirks while his hand moves slowly all around it, you can see some precum dripping from it and you open your mouth slowly <<All the time you were looking at it, you thought I wouldn't notice it?>> he put the tip on your pussy <<I could see the lust in your eyes, and you have no fucking idea how much I wanted to grab you and bend you over. Fucking you till the only thing you were able to do was screaming my name and begging me to let you come>> you feel the tip inside you and you squeeze your eyes

<<Dean...>> you shake your head. It's too big, you know you can't take it

<<Don't worry, princess>> he puts some of your hair behind your ear <<You can take it, I know you can. This cock was made for you>> you almost scream when you feel it all inside you, pushing you to the edge

<<Please>> you whisper as he starts to move way too slowly, making you feel like you're going to break

<<Please, what?>> you arch your back and roll your eyes as his hands grab you to make you stay still under his body

<<F-faster>> you beg out of breath, and his smile makes you understand you just said something right

<<My good girl>> he praise you as he moves faster, deeper. In an eager way, like this is what he always wanted, what he always needed. Your moans are louder than before, and his name leaves your mouth in a begging way <<You belong to me, y/n>> he wraps his hand around your neck <<From now on, your mine. Do you understand me?>> his pushes are more possessive, more dominant. So rough you feel like losing your senses. Tears of pleasure start running down your face and the only thing you can think about is how much you like this <<I've killed for way less>> his face close to yours so that you can hear his words inside your soul <<Because I'll kill anyone who tries to touch you>> another deep push makes you shaking and you wrap your legs around his waist so you can feel him all inside you <<Anyone who looks at you in the wrong way he'll find himself with a bullet in his head before he even realizes it>> your nails are grabbing his back so tightly as everything around you stop existing and you feel like you two are the only people left in this world <<If someone tries to take you away from me I'll make sure he's going to suffer>> his voice is so low, so full of things never said before <<I'd burn the world down for you, y/n. I don't care about the consequences>> another push takes you almost at the edge <<And now, come for me, little girl. Show me you feel the same>> hearing him saying all this makes you lose control of your body, and you let yourself scream his name as he whispers yours close to your ear.

You both look at each other, your faces covered in sweat and your breathing deep and shaky. You touch his cheek as you try to calm yourself down

<> you whisper and your heart stops in your chest when he puts his forehead against yours

<> he whispers kissing your forehead <>.

#dean #dean fanfiction #dean winchester #dean x reader #spn #one shot #supernatural

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imagineteamfreewill · 5 months

Text

Cursed

Title: Cursed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Brief heavy drinking, suggested dub con (nothing actually happens besides PG-13 touching, but more is suggested and the reader does not want to participate), cursed Dean, language, angst, a little fluff

Summary: Dean’s cursed after a witch hunt and Sam and Y/N are left to deal with the consequences.

A/N: This is a super random one shot I started writing in 2018 that I just recently found in an old WIP folder. I’ve changed it a lot from what it originally started as, but I hope it’s enjoyable nonetheless. As always, thanks for reading and for supporting me in all the ways you do!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Dean,” you sigh. You steal the sweaty, half-drunk beer bottle from his hand. “You can’t just drink until you black out!”

He rolls his eyes at you, pulling another bottle from the paper carton beside him. It’s already empty and he huffs in annoyance, setting it aside before grabbing the fourth and final beer from its slot.

“Dean!”

He doesn’t respond, instead choosing to pry the top off the bottle and take a long swig, then let out a satisfied sigh. The bottle cap clatters to the concrete beneath his pool chair. He smacks his lips and you try to disguise your disgust, even if he won’t care either way.

Frustrated, you stomp back to the motel room and push the door open, slamming your room key and the bottle you’d taken away on the table in front of Sam. The door hits the door jamb on the wall before bouncing back and slamming shut with a bang.

“Your brother is going to be the end of me!” you growl.

Sam looks up, eyebrows raised as he tries to transition his mind from the lore he’s been reading to what you’ve said. “Hmm?”

You groan and run a hand through your hair, inwardly praying for some patience, then look back down at him. “I said,” you begin, unable to even vaguely disguise how you feel, “that your brother is slowly annoying me to death! Please tell me that you have a cure, or at least a counter-curse! I don’t know how much longer I can take this!”

“I haven’t found anything so far,” Sam replies, shaking his head apologetically. He reaches for the beer bottle and you snatch it away, grinding your teeth in frustration. Though you want to take a sip of it yourself to make the next few hours—or days, depending on how long it takes you and Sam to find a cure—easier, you grip it hard in one hand for a second before sighing and putting it back on the edge of the table. Just because Dean was drinking himself to death, doesn’t necessarily mean that his younger brother had to suffer.

“Just… Just figure something out. I need to go back to keeping an eye on Mister R&R out there.” You gesture towards the door, then press the heels of your hands to your eyes. You’re exhausted; not only had yesterday’s witch hunt been nothing more than a dead end, but somehow, Dean managed to get himself cursed. It’s up to you and Sam to find the witch and a cure, and Dean’s no help. The curse has left him incapable of doing any actual work, instead convincing him that all he should do for the rest of his life is relax. All you’ve done for the last day and a half is chase after him to make sure that he doesn’t break any laws or get himself hurt.

“We’ll figure it out, Y/N. I promise,” Sam reassures. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? Maybe we can convince Dean to come relax in here. If we’re lucky, he might sleep, too. Sleeping isn’t work—if we spin it the right way he might go for it.”

You nod wearily and pick up the beer again. You dump its contents down the bathroom drain before tossing the empty bottle in the plastic trash can. “Are there any more of those in here?” you ask, heading back out to the main part of the room.

Sam turns in his seat to glance around the room, then shakes his head. “Nope. I think Dean got ‘em all already.” He closes his laptop and pushes the chair back from the table, standing and grabbing your keycard. “You take a shower and I’ll go get Dean. You look like hell.”

Snorting, you send Sam a grateful look and go over to your duffel, where you pull out your bag of toiletries and one of Dean’s old t-shirts. After a second of thought, you grab a pair of shorts, just in case he’s feeling grabby. “Gee, thanks.”

The sound of the door closing is Sam’s response. You shut your eyes for a second, soaking in the still, peaceful silence of the room before going into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. It’s the first time since yesterday morning that you’ve been alone, and it’s the first time it’s been so quiet, too.

Minutes later, you’re scrubbing yourself down and ignoring the way that the dirty water pools around your feet as you rinse away the grime from the past two days. It feels good to finally be clean. You’re just rinsing off your face and hair when you hear the bathroom door open and you freeze, carefully peeking open an eye to stare at the frosted white shower curtain. The person on the other side doesn’t move, nor do they make a sound.

“Sam?” you ask after a second. “Is that you?”

“Guess again,” Dean replies, a bit too cheerily for your liking.

You can only see his vague silhouette through the shower curtain, but you can clearly picture the arrogant smirk on his face. It’s been one of the few expressions on his face since he’d been cursed. The others in the rotation have left you equally as irritated.

Pursing your lips, you quickly finish rinsing off and turn the knob to shut off the water. “Hand me my towel,” you say, sticking a hand out around the curtain. It’s a request you’ve made many times in the past, yet now it comes out harsher, more like an order or a command than a simple task.

“Why? It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked before,” Dean counters.

You sigh, your arm dropping slightly as you keep it held out. “Dean, come on. This isn’t you. Please just hand me my towel.”

“Of course it’s me,” he says. “I’m just wondering why my girl won’t let me see her wet and naked. We could have a lot of fun that way…” His fingertips brush your forearm as his silhouette moves closer, and you snatch your arm back.

“You’re cursed, Dean. We’ve talked about this. Now please, hand me my towel.” Dean only hums in response and you growl quietly to yourself before yelling, “Sam! Sam, get in here!”

A moment later, the bathroom door squeaks open again and you hear Sam shout in annoyance.

“Jesus Christ, Dean! Put on some clothes!”

“Of course he’s naked,” you mumble under your breath. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

Dean chuckles and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, trying not to slip and fall. The chill from the bathroom has started to set in now that you’re no longer under hot water, and goosebumps have broken out over your damp skin. You shiver.

“Sam,” you call, a little louder so you can be certain that he’ll hear you. “Sam, please just hand me my towel. Your idiot brother refuses to.”

You feel the rough fabric in your hand as soon as you stick your arm out again, and you quickly yank it inside the shower with you before Dean can snatch it. After wrapping it around yourself, you pull the shower curtain open to find Dean buttoning his jeans, his upper half still bare.

“Thanks for putting pants on,” you say, pushing him out of the way so that you can get to the sink. Hopefully, your praise will incentivize him to do what you ask. Maybe he’ll be more willing to nap that way. It’s only a thread of hope, but you’ll cling to it until it breaks.

You wipe the fog off the mirror with your hand and peer at your reflection for a second before grabbing your comb and starting to comb out your hair, shivering when cold water drips onto your bare shoulders.

“Let me do that,” Dean says. He grabs the comb before you can answer and picks up where you left off, leaving you to hold up your towel in silence. His hands are gentle and for a moment, you forget that he’s cursed. This is something he does for you all the time. It’s one of the ways he shows you that he cares for you, even when he’s wrapped up in his own thoughts or when the two of you are too tired to even talk.

When the thought pops into your head, however, you begin to analyze the situation, trying to figure out exactly how this is helping Dean relax. So far, he’s only done things that help him relax, not others, which means that this somehow has to be more beneficial to him than it is to you.

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you reach up and take the comb from his hands, ignoring the spark of electricity that runs up your arm when your skin brushes against his. “Why are you doing this?” you ask, crossing your arms over the top of your towel as you turn to face him.

Dean shrugs, glancing at his reflection in the mirror behind you. His expression seems more normal than it has since the witch hunt, and you grip the edge of the towel a little tighter, watching him carefully. Has the curse been broken somehow?

“Dunno. I like playing with your hair, I guess.” A familiar, lazy smile crosses his face as he meets your eyes a second later, and he takes a step forward so his hips pin yours against the bathroom counter. “Plus, I know what happens when you get relaxed and you feel taken care of.”

Scoffing, you push Dean off of you and toss the comb down, then grab your shirt and shorts off the counter. “Get out. I need to change. Go…” You pause, frantically wracking your brain for some suggestion he might actually go for. “Go wait for me in bed, okay? Yeah? I’ll come join you in a minute.” You hope that your words sound promising enough, even if you don’t really plan on doing anything with him while he’s cursed. You couldn’t stomach it.

Dean dips his head to stare down at you with the same lazy, drunk smile on his face as before. “Okay. I’ll be waiting, sweetheart. Don’t take too long.”

He slips out the door, finally leaving you alone, and you quickly push the door shut and flip the lock—something you should’ve done in the first place. You shudder, then glance at your phone on the counter.

“Come on,” you mutter. “Anything is better than this.”

Reluctantly, you force yourself to pick up the phone and send a short, carefully worded text before setting it aside and changing into your clean clothes. Rowena’s response comes just as soon as you’re dressed, and you close your eyes when you read her message, relieved. After forwarding it to Sam, you carry your things out to the main room, only to find that Dean’s just where he had promised he would be. A quick glance around the room shows that Sam has chosen to make himself scarce, and you silently curse his name in every language you know.

“Hey there, Y/N,” Dean drawls, directing your attention back to him. His jeans are unbuttoned again, though not unzipped, and you swallow the lump in your throat at the sight of his half-naked frame sprawled out on the bed, trying to focus on the task at hand. You need to sleep, and you figure that if Dean is sleeping, he can’t get into any trouble. It’s getting him to sleep that will be the problem.

“Hey,” you casually reply. You set your things down in your bag, taking a minute to rearrange them with your back to Dean. You hear noise coming from the bed as you plug your phone in on the TV stand and you slow your movement, listening as Dean moves the pillows and blankets around to his liking. When you turn around again, the extra pillows are all on the floor and he’s settled in the middle of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he regards you with a cocky smile.

“You gonna come over here or what?”

Forcing a smile of your own, you cross the room and grab a pillow off the floor, then crawl into bed with Dean. His hands immediately go for your hips in an attempt to pull you on top of him, but you push them away.

“Roll over,” you say, tucking your wet hair behind your ear. “Let me give you a massage first.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, clearly liking your suggestion, then moves over to lay on his stomach. You get to work, doing your very best to get him to relax as much as possible.

You must’ve massaged Dean’s back and shoulders for an hour before you finally hear him let out a soft snore. Your hands are sore, but relief floods you and you carefully move to the opposite edge of the bed and lay on your stomach. You close your eyes, desperately hoping that you’ll fall asleep quickly so you can get as much rest as possible before he awakes.

When you wake up, you can hear Dean arguing with Sam, their voices hushed despite the anger lacing their words. Slowly, you open your eyes and lie still, listening. You’ve rolled over onto your side in your sleep, so you can stare at the wall and watch their shadows as they argue.

“Dean, you can’t go out right now. Y/N is sleeping and I’m not going with you,” Sam huffs. He’s all at once placating and annoyed with his older brother, the same way a parent who’s fed up with their child’s antics might speak. “I have better things to do than pick up chicks at a bar, including finding something to help break whatever curse you’re under.”

“I don’t need your help, Sammy. I’m fine! And I’m not going to a bar, I’m just going to get some food from the taco place down the street!”

“Really? You’re not cursed? Is that why you were taking up most of the bed and Y/N’s only got the edge? Because that’s not like you, man. You’ve been acting differently since we got back yesterday.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” Dean hisses. “Just drop it.”

You listen intently for whatever Sam has to say in response, but it’s too quiet for you to make out anything. After a minute, the door to the parking lot opens, then slams shut. You don’t hear Sam go after his brother, nor do you hear anyone moving around the room, and you frown against your pillow.

Confused, you sit up in bed and rub your eyes before going over to the window, carefully pulling the curtain away from the edge so you can peek outside. It’s pitch black outside. You hadn’t glanced at the clock on the nightstand as you’d crawled out of bed, but you’re certain it’s the middle of the night. You’d slept for almost eight hours, which is practically a miracle.

The boys are just outside the door, on the walkway that runs from the motel office and past every room, all the way to the end of the building. They’re still arguing, but Sam looks more shocked than frustrated. The parking lot lights flicker for a second, and when they come back on, you realize that both Sam and Dean are staring at you.

Feeling a bit guilty that you were caught eavesdropping, you drop the curtain. Then, you step over to the door and pull it open so you can stand in the doorway. Though it’s dark out, Sam and Dean are close enough where you can see them clearly in the overhead lights, and you look between them.

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

The two brothers glance at each other, their unspoken conversation ending with Dean’s shoulders slumping, before Sam bitterly answers, “Dean has something he’d like to tell you.”

“Okay…” You turn your attention to Dean, unsure of what to expect.

It takes him a minute to speak up. “I, uh… I wasn’t cursed.”

You stare at him for a second, trying to understand how his behavior the past 36 hours lines up with that statement. “What?”

“There’s no curse. I wasn’t cursed before, and I’m not cursed now. I’m fine,” he says.

Anger is starting to rise up into your chest and you clench your hands into fists. Slowly, in a way you hope will get you the clearest answer possible, you reply, “What do you mean there was no curse? If there’s no curse, then why have you been acting the way you have?”

Dean has the decency to look ashamed, and he looks away to stare at the window leading into the motel office. The employee manning the front desk looks asleep, with one hand propping his head up on the laminate countertop. The vacancy sign in the window flickers. Sam leaves and heads to the Impala, but you only spare him a glance. A few moments later, the car starts up and drives off toward the main part of town.

“I don’t know. I needed a break from the responsibilities. I wanted to live like there was nothing to worry about, just for a day,” Dean tells you after the parking lot returns to silence once more.

You can’t decide if you’re more shocked at the revelation that he’s not cursed, angry that he’s done what he did, or saddened that Dean felt the way he had, yet he hadn’t felt like he could talk to you about it. You would’ve given him the best day off ever, had you known that’s what he needed. Instead, he’s taken advantage of you and his brother, and he’s treated you poorly in the process. He’s acted like a complete and total selfish asshole.

“I can’t believe you,” you finally scoff. You cross your arms over your chest, but you drop them back down to your sides almost immediately. Angry tears fill your eyes. “You are so selfish! If you had just said something, we could’ve done whatever you’d wanted, but instead, you had to act like you’d been cursed! We were worried sick, Dean!”

You step forward into his space, jabbing a finger at his chest. “I was terrified that we’d never find a cure, and the way you treated me?” You scoff again and shake your head. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable, Dean! I can’t believe you’d treat me like that. I can’t believe you’d treat Sam like that! Do you know that we were this close to making a deal with Rowena?” You bring your hand up between his face and yours, holding your thumb and index finger only an inch apart to emphasize your point. “This close!”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he answers, his voice quiet. He stares down at the sidewalk.

You drop your hand back down your side. “Are you?”

He nods and lifts his head to look up at you. In any other situation, you might’ve broken at the grief in his eyes, but you’re too furious to back down now.

“Y/N, you gotta believe me! If I’d known how out of hand this was going to get, I wouldn’t have done it, but by the time I realized how far I’d taken it, it was too late! I hadn’t thought of a way to get rid of the fake curse without it being too big of an issue, so I had to keep rolling with it.”

You shake your head again, shocked and disgusted that he’d done something so drastic. Throwing up both your hands, you take a step back towards the motel room. “You had to keep rolling with it? I can’t. I can’t deal with this right now! I’m going back to bed.” You turn and start to dig for your keycard in your pajama pocket, even though you know it’s not there.

“We can talk about it whenever you’re ready,” Dean says. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You know, I honestly don’t even know if I want to talk to you,” you snap, turning to face him again. “And I’m not sure that there even is a way for you to make this up to me, Dean. This is so far beyond the realm of things that you could’ve done that I can’t even wrap my brain around it!”

You stomp back to the motel room door and yank on the handle. Predictably, it doesn’t budge, and you let out a shriek of frustration. Dean silently offers you his keycard, holding it by your hand though he stands just beyond your view. You snatch it from him and shove it into the slot above the handle. When the light turns green, you shove the door open and step inside, then slam it behind you again, leaving the Dean standing alone on the walkway.

Though you’d said you were going back to bed, you’re too riled up to sleep, so you grab your toiletries and head to the bathroom for your second shower of the day. Thankfully, this is the nicest motel you’ve had in a while. The water pressure may not be great, but the hot water lasts for a long time and there’s nothing suspicious growing anywhere in the bathroom. Once inside, you lock the door behind you and toss your stuff onto the vanity, ignoring it when it slides into the sink instead of staying on the countertop.

As you stand under the hot spray of the shower, you stare hard at the wall. You half-listen to the room, too, just in case Sam or Dean comes back in after you, but mostly you let yourself stew.

Dean’s a great guy. He’s an even better boyfriend, despite all his flaws; he’s attentive, kind, protective (to a fault), and he makes you laugh. He knows when to be gentle and when to leave things be, especially when you’re in a mood. You love him. That thought makes you frown harder, and you cross your arms over your bare chest. You love Dean, but he’s treated you so poorly that you can only doubt if he loves you in the same way. Surely someone couldn’t do something so horrid to someone they loved?

One of the boys knocks on the door and you ignore them. You’d been so wrapped up in your thoughts that you hadn’t heard them enter the room. When they knock again, you roll your eyes and drop your arms, then grab the conditioner.

“What?” you snap.

“Sam came back. We’re going out to get some food. Do you want your usual?” Dean asks.

Huffing, you squirt a handful of conditioner into your palm and close the bottle, and you practically slam it onto the shelf in the shower. It immediately slips off and clatters to the floor, narrowly missing your foot. You curse and leave it there.

“Y/N?” Dean asks again.

“Sure! Fine! Whatever, Dean! Get whatever you want for me, I don’t care!”

“Y/N—”

“Just leave me alone? Okay?”

There’s silence on the other side of the door, and you think for a second that Dean’s actually done what you’ve asked for the first time since the hunt, but then he asks,

“Do you need a break? From me?”

You pause, your hands frozen where they’ve been working the conditioner into your hair, and you stare at the shower curtain for a moment or two while you think over Dean’s words.

“I don’t know,” you finally reply. “I’m angry, and I’m really fucking hurt. Do you know how exhausted I was, Dean? How worried I was that the second I stopped making sure you didn’t do something stupid, you’d get hurt or arrested? I didn’t shower after the hunt, and I’ve barely eaten anything.

“And when you came in here while I was showering earlier? I was so scared you’d do something that you couldn’t truly agree to. And then, for a minute, when you combed my hair, it was like everything was normal again. I guess it was normal, but I didn’t know that then, did I? And then, after a while, I thought you were doing it just to come onto me, and you played that up. You made me so uncomfortable, Dean, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop you from doing something if you were really dead set on having sex with me. If you’d really been cursed, you wouldn’t have been in your right mind to agree to anything, and I would’ve had to live with that thought if something had actually happened! I was so terrified of that, and yet the whole time you were just pretending! Like it was a game to you, or something!”

There’s a strangled noise from the other side of the door and you close your eyes, hands trembling. Dean doesn’t speak again for a minute. When there’s only silence, you start rinsing out your hair, and then you turn off the shower and grab your towel from the bar.

“I don’t know how to make it up to you,” Dean says, startling you as you reach for your comb. It’s exactly where you’d left it last night, after you’d thrown it aside. You stand on the cheap bath mat, holding the tiny plastic comb as you wait for Dean to continue.

“I probably never will, but I want to try. I know I’ve messed up, and I know I did horrible things. You have no idea how horrible I feel and how sick it makes me that I made you so uncomfortable. I should’ve stopped right away. I shouldn’t have even pretended to want that from you. If you can’t forgive me for what I did and how I made you feel, I’ll understand and I’ll leave you alone forever, but I love you, Y/N. I never meant for this to happen. I don’t know what got into me.”

“This isn’t like you, Dean,” you interject, quieter than before. You feel deflated after his speech. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” he says, almost pleading with you, as if you have all the answers. You wish you did.

You lean sideways against the door. It’s cold against your shoulder and you hold the towel tighter, staring at your blurred reflection in the foggy mirror. “Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

“I don’t know. I should’ve. My head’s messed up and I was afraid you wouldn’t react the way I needed you to.”

“It’s okay to feel scared when you talk about how you feel, but we’ve gotta be honest with each other if this is going to work. You have to be honest with the person you’re dating, no matter what. That’s a big thing, Dean.”

“I know.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

The two of you stand there in silence, each of you on opposite sides of the door. Finally, you straighten up and turn the handle. It unlocks automatically and you pull the door open to meet Dean’s eyes. He looks shocked that you’re facing him so soon, and though his eyes flicker down at the white towel you’re still wearing, he mostly just holds your gaze, waiting for you to speak first. His eyes are red and puffy. He’s been crying, and though he’d mentioned that Sam was back, the room is silent.

“This kind of thing can never happen again,” you tell him firmly. “If it does, I’m out. I’m telling Sam that, too, so that if you pull something like this again and then try to find me, he can stop you.”

Dean nods. His voice breaks as he replies, “That’s fair. You deserve to be with someone who’s good for you, even if it’s not me.”

“And we have to talk about how we’re feeling, even if it’s hard. Maybe we should come up with a plan for when you feel this way.” Dean nods again and you look down at the comb in your hands. You pause for a second to collect your thoughts. “Dean, I’m still angry with you, and I probably will be for at least a little while, but I’m also hurt that you felt you couldn’t talk to me. I know Sam probably is too, but I do understand how you feel. You’re not alone in this.”

“I know that now,” he softly answers.

You look up. “Do you?”

He nods. “I’m sorry,” Dean repeats.

“I know.” You look back at the comb, then up at him again. “You can start by combing out my hair and braiding it in those fancy braids you pretend not to know how to do.” You hold out the comb and when Dean opens his mouth to protest, you raise an eyebrow at him. “You wanna fix things? This is step one, Dean.”

He sighs and takes the comb, his shoulders slumped dramatically. There’s a hint of his normal self in his expression now. You step further into the bathroom to allow him room to stand behind you.

Dean’s hands are gentle as he begins to comb out your wet hair. You glance up at him in the mirror. He catches your eye almost right away, then smiles slightly. You smile back, just enough for him to see it before he focuses back on your hair, the first olive branch that you’ve extended him.

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thestruidora · 1 year

Note

How about this prompt with Dean Winchester x reader?

In my defense, the moon was full and I was left unsupervised.

Thanks!

Cry Wolf

Supernatural Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Werewolf Dean, Possessive Behavior, Some Angst, Fluff and Smut, Non-con Elements if you squint, Hurt/Comfort, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, Smut, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Blood Kink, Knotting, Alpha/Beta/Omega Undertones

Category: F/M

Pairings: Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader

Summary: Dean gets bit by a werewolf during a hunt, forcing Sam on a quest to find the sire lycanthrope and cure his brother. Suffering the effects of the transformation, Dean is quarantined in the bunker all by himself. It really is bad timing when you come a-knocking, utterly oblivious, and with a bleeding gash on your upper thigh. Did I mention it was a full moon?

This is a one-shot. Here's the masterlist of my other fics: Masterlist

Chapter One

Bad Moon Rising

"Don't come around tonight, well it's bound to take your life. There's a bad moon on the rise."

You were limping, the cut on your leg sending a shooting pang through you every time you took a wobbly step forward. Getting in your car had been difficult, driving had been terrible, but leaving the vehicle and trudging down the asphalt road to the uneven terrain along the entrance of the bunker was the real bitch.

You banged on the side of the door, the metal continuing to vibrate long after your knock.

“Guys, it’s me.” You announced. A dark, heavy cloud loomed over your head, covering the big full moon that shone in the sky. Soon little beads of water were beginning to fall on top of you. “Come on, it’s starting to rain!” Still, there was no response.

You cursed under your breath and took your phone from your pocket, calling Sam one more time. As it had happened in your previous attempts, his voicemail was all you reached.

“Shit.” Your thumb hovered over Dean’s name, about to press the call button yet again, but a gearing sound stopped you in your tracks.

The bunker’s door was cracked open by an inch, wide hazel eyes meeting yours through the gap.

“Dean?” You could only see a sliver of his face, but his pupils were incredibly dilated, almost obscuring his irises entirely. His mouth was agape, and he panted for air as if he had just run for miles.

“Hey, kiddo.” You cringed, not only at the condescending nickname that he had forced on you years ago, but also at the rasp in his voice. It was gruffer than usual, deep, and full-bodied. “Whatcha doing here? Is Sam with you?” He looked over your shoulder, eyes darting around to inspect your surroundings.

“Uh, no. I’ve been trying to call you guys, is this a bad time?” You placed one of your hands on the side of your wound, wincing at the ache. With the other hand, you held onto the wall in front of you, uncomfortably shifting your weight.

Dean noticed the rip in your pants, a dark red spot tingeing the fabric of your jeans, and instantly his expression changed. The furrow in his brow disappeared and his face lit up, a glint you had never seen before flashed in his eyes, making them appear greener for a second.

The door of the bunker swung open, revealing the disheveled image of the older Winchester.

His hair was messy, as if he had tossed and turned in bed. His lips were split and swollen, as if he had bitten on them till the skin broke. And the navy blue shirt he wore was drenched in sweat, the light material stretching under his biceps and his heaving pectoral muscles. You didn’t remember him being that ripped.

“What happened?” He asked, focus unwavering from the gash on your thigh, tongue poking out to wet his parched lips.

“I had a run-in with some demons. Those sons of bitches did a number on my leg.” You explained, not liking the way he didn’t look up at you, appearing to be entranced by the seeping blood coming from your damaged skin.

Dean refused to say anything in return, or maybe he simply wasn’t capable of doing so. He just stared at your injury with a kind of sinister awe.

“I don’t wanna impose or anything, I was just kinda hoping Sam could patch me up.” You added at last, those words seeming to snap him out of his stupor.

“I can do it.” He blurted out, not giving you any time to think before he wrapped his hand around your wrist and tugged you inside.

You cried in pain when you stumbled into the bunker, not prepared to move your thigh so abruptly, his grip too tight where he held you without letting go.

“Sorry.” He murmured, noticing your discomfort but not loosening his clasp.

The wet sole of your boots squelched on the vinyl floor and you felt a rush of relief to be sheltered from the increasing rain, if only that feeling could’ve lasted for longer.

Dean slammed the door behind the two of you, the click that reverberated in your ears signaling that it locked as it closed.

“It’s fine.” You said, in regards to his apology, and offered him a weak smile while you pried his closed fist from your wrist with some difficulty. For some reason, he didn’t seem to want to let go.

You took a few shaky steps towards the foyer’s balcony, resting your arms on the railing of the staircase and looking down at the antechamber of the bunker, all the blinking lights from the old control panels catching your attention.

“Where is Sam, anyway? He’s not answering his phone.” You question, with your back to Dean, but no reply comes your way.

You shrug it off, assuming that he merely didn’t want to disclose his brother’s whereabouts. It was none of your business, after all. Like most things the Winchesters get involved in, it’s probably highly dangerous and way above your pay grade.

You can’t even begin to remember how many times you tried to participate in their world-saving crusades, be useful somehow, only to be flat-out prohibited by Dean. He’d say you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t safe, that you were too young, and so on until you stopped showing interest altogether.

Now, you hunt on your own, only seeing them from time to time. But you like it that way, you like having no one to bark orders at you, you like proving that you’re good at your job without anyone’s help. Unless, of course, you screw up and get hurt, in which case you do need someone’s help.

“Do you even know how to do it? ‘Cause I think it’s gonna need stitches.” You inquire about your wound, the abused tissue throbbing even as you stand still.

You sense movement behind you and Dean’s hand appears at your side on the railing, his torso touching your back and his nose tickling your nape. You hear him inhale deeply and then let out a sigh of pure satisfaction, the hot air landing on your neck and sending a tingle of goosebumps up your arms.

“What the hell was that?” You turn to face him, forcing some distance between the both of you, absolutely shocked at the quick turn of events. “Did you just sniff me?”

“No, of course not.” He shakes his head, almost as confused as you are. He scans you up and down, licking his lips again, and his eyes glaze over before he puffs out a breath and fights to recompose himself. “I mean, yeah, a little bit.”

“Why?” You elongate the syllable, thinking that maybe, if you really enunciate your words you might be able to get some sensible answers from him.

“It’s just that-” He advances on you and you back away from him, your ribs hitting the railing when you have nowhere else to go. He stops in front of you, invading your personal space and caging you with his big arms. “You smell so fucking good.”

He hunches over you, bending his spine till the tip of his nose touches your temple and his lips graze the high point of your cheek.

“Dean.” You call to him, but he fails to acknowledge you in any way. “What are you doing?” You try again, more forcefully this time, and he ignores you just the same. There’s a continuous vibration coming from his chest that sounds awfully similar to a purring animal, almost like he wants to soothe you into submission.

His left hand grabs the fat of your hip, bunching up the hem of your shirt and squeezing under the fabric, abnormally long nails nipping at your skin. His right hand, however, entangles itself on the hair at the base of your scalp, pulling unceremoniously so as to expose your neck to his exploration.

He mouthes on your pulse point, huffing as he pants and nuzzles against you. He doesn’t exactly kiss the sensitive skin as much as he runs the plump pillows of his lips up and down the span of your bared throat, drawing invisible shapes of his choosing.

He then finds a particular spot he likes best, right behind your ear, and fixates on it. Completely lost to the world when he lolls out his tongue, longer than what is humanly possible, and licks where the taste of your natural scent is the strongest.

The moment you feel the wetness of his saliva laving at your flesh, you jolt jarringly, pushing at his chest with all your will, and it’s like trying to move a mountain with the way he doesn’t even budge.

“Stop!” You yell, mustering as much assertiveness as you can into your tone before you give him a final shove, sending him three to four steps backwards.

Dean seems to awake from a daydream, eyes flashing to a fluorescent green and back to his normal hazel. He stares at you with a frown, unable to catch his breath, attempting to take a step in your direction but you raise a finger at him and he halts.

“Stop it.” You order and his frown deepens, looking wounded and unhappy, but he obliges.

You spear a glance at the stairs to the side of you, your only escape route since he was currently blocking the door from where you came in. You could race down the steps and lock yourself inside of the many rooms in the bunker, but with your leg the way it is, you wouldn’t make it past a single step before he caught up to you.

With your index finger still raised at him, you support your weight on the railing and move to make your descent down the stairs, planning on taking it one slow step at a time.

“You’re hurt.” He states after you swallow a lament while on the second step, visibly itching to come closer. “Let me help you, I can carry you.”

“No. You’re gonna stay right there.” You command, doing your best to not let the pain show in your features as you drag yourself to the floor below.

His feet inch towards you while he eyes you like a disobedient puppy, knowing full well that there’s nothing you can really do to stop him.

“You’re gonna stay right where you are, and we’re gonna wait till your brother comes home, and then we’re gonna sort this out.” He’s at you before you finish your sentence.

You yelp when he snatches you suddenly, pulling you below your shoulder blades and lifting you up, your only option being to wrap your calves around his hips and brace yourself onto the back of his neck to keep from falling.

He carries you down the rest of the stairs, short-winded and with droplets of sweat rolling down his forehead. He burns you, not only with the heat of his unblinking gaze, but also with his unnaturally high body temperature. You had never felt someone’s skin this hot in your life. You didn’t understand how he could be standing, let alone holding you like you weigh nothing.

“Ok, you can put me down now.” You say when you get to the antechamber, but Dean’s grip tightens on you and he continues to walk into the war room.

“Everything’s gonna be fine.” He’s mumbling, and you’re not even sure he’s talking to you or to himself. “I just need to-” He drops you on top of the light-up map table in the middle of the room, with surprising care and delicateness. “I just need to scent you.”

“What?!” You exclaim in disbelief, trying to move away but he restrains you, sinking his claw-like fingernails into your nape as a clear display of dominance. You whimper at the sting and he leans over you, purring louder than before.

“Dean, listen to me.” You can’t shake the feeling that you’re attempting to reason with a crazy person, but you have to try. He’s much stronger than you, bigger and faster, even more so with one of your limbs impaired. Talking him out of this is your only chance of preventing whatever he has in store for you. “You’re sick, you must be delirious from a very high fever.”

“Love your taste.” He’s clinging to you, head tucked into the crook of your neck as he laps at you with his tongue. The moist, flexible muscle undulates across your collarbone when he goes further down, pouty lips closing in to suck at the juncture of your shoulder, right above your artery. “Wanna bite you so bad.”

“You’re not making any sense.” He’s completely disregarding your words, though he smiles at your breathy tone.

You press your mouth shut and close your eyes when he rakes the pointy edges of his teeth over your veins, not wanting him to hear or see how his ministrations are beginning to affect you. You hadn’t realized until that moment just how sharp his canines were, closer to fangs than anything else.

He tugs at the collar of your shirt, ripping the cloth with outstanding ease and exposing your bra. By that point, your own breathing was labored, the mounds of your breasts bouncing up and down in their tight confinement as you heaved.

Dean’s irises are radioactive green when he feasts his eyes at you and proceeds to stick his face in your cleavage. He groans like a madman and pulls at one of the cups of your brassiere, your right tit spilling out and being clutched by him almost immediately.

He traps your nipple between his index and middle fingers, teasing it to a stiff peak and you shake at the burst of pleasure. You grab at his forearms to steady yourself, swallowing down a moan that threatens to escape you.

“Let me hear you.” He yanks your head back from where he holds you by your scruff, as a dog would do to another, and you let out a whine at the bestial way he handles you. “That’s right, don’t hold back on me, give me everything.” He takes your puffy nipple into his mouth, suckling and biting, and a fire spreads through your lower abdomen at the sinful sensation.

Once he ceases his assault on your boob, the tumid bud is covered in his spit, the chilling air from the ventilation system making it that much more sensitive.

His hands fly to unbutton your pants, and you’re so dazed from his heady presence all around that you allow it for a minute, only moving to intercept him when he has both of his hands hooked at the waistband of your jeans and is already tugging them down.

“Dean, we gotta stop this.” You beg him, a considerable amount of your restraint lost as you fail to convince him, his hands too strong for you to swat away while he peels off your jeans. The material sticks to the dry blood around your cut, making you flinch, but he continues till the garment hits the ground, cooing an apology for your discomfort. “There’s something wrong with you, you’re not yourself.”

He pays you no mind, transfixed by the image of you laid in front of him only in your underwear. He looks even bigger than when you first arrived, thick neck bulging with raised veins and rippling muscles straining under his shirt.

“You smell ripe.” His voice is hoarse and booming, a feral edge emanating from him when he kneels before you. He brings his head close to the gash on your upper thigh, hypnotized by the blood that oozed from it, filling his lungs with the scent of your arousal mixed with your blood. “You’re good enough to eat.”

The ends of his white teeth sparkle in the artificial light coming from the lamp in the ceiling, appearing to be razor-sharp. It gives him an ominous aura that causes you to shiver under his unrelenting glare, and he smirks at you, wrapping his hand around your legs to prevent you from moving.

His lips graze the inflamed skin around your wound and you squirm at the contact, fearful of what he might do next. The talons at the ends of his fingers scratch at you as a warning to stay still, and you do, gasping when you feel the scrape of his tongue on your tore flesh.

“This can’t be happening.” You say to yourself as you watch him hunched over you, smacking his lips at the taste of your blood, as if you were a rare delicacy and he was hungry.

His first couple of licks stung, causing the muscles of your thigh to contract involuntarily, a torrent of purrs coming your way in an effort to alleviate your distress. But as his saliva coated your broken skin, the soreness subsided and the pain was numbed. All you could feel then was the strange but far from unpleasant sensation of his continuous lapping, a spark of neediness shooting up from where he was laving his tongue at you, making your middle throb and pulsate.

He grunted, looking up at you as if he could sense your craving, as if he could smell it. His left hand travels up your leg, stopping by the fabric of your panties, pushing it to the side, and uncovering your glistening cunny.

You feel his licking on your cut becoming sloppy as he salivates and his fingers move to caress the top of your pussy. He presses gently on the hood of your clit, revealing the swollen bundle of nerves to his eyes that shine with a desperate desire.

“Look at how wet you are.” He mutters, mouth colored with a slick shade of crimson. The pads of his fingers rub up and down your slit, gathering the moisture seeping from your clenching hole to massage your flushed bead of pleasure. “You’re so precious.”

The praise goes straight to your pulsing center, molten lava settling in the pit of your stomach, and you mewl shamefully when the back and forth of his fingers makes your pussy gush.

You never thought Dean would do something like this to you. He had always treated you like a baby sister, while he was the overbearing, overly protective older brother.

He’d comment on the length of your skirts and on the tightness of your blouses, going so far as to deny you rides to places if you didn’t change into something he thought of as appropriate.

He’d hang around you at bars, hovering too close, keeping any and all interested guys from interacting with you.

He had always seen you as a kid, and now there he is, sucking on the lacerated flesh of your thigh like it was his last meal and fingering the sopping place between your legs.

“Please!” You cry out, no longer sure if you’re pleading for him to stop or to keep going.

“You want more?” You answer your own internal question by nodding enthusiastically to his, and Dean groans and drools on your open cut as he inserts two of his long, thick fingers into your scorching hot cunt. “You need more to cum, princess?”

Your lips form a perfect o when he breaches your tight, gummy walls, stirring your insides until he finds the spongy, tender spot he was searching for and fucks it with come-hither motions, over and over, again and again.

“Oh, my God, Dean!” You wail, high-pitched and wanton, losing all your inhibitions and bucking your hips in time with the flicks of his wrist as he drills his callused digits inside you, roughly and repeatedly, without giving you time to adjust to his incursion.

“That’s right, squeeze my fingers.” His voice was low and heavy, laced with untamed ferociousness, akin to the rumbling of a snarling wolf. But even with his lips gleaming with the ruby substance from your wound that he insisted on licking, speaking between the obscene slurps, Dean managed to rein in his most primal instincts to encourage your free-fall into bliss. “You can let go whenever you want, sweetheart, I’m right here.”

You revel under his coaxing, under his reassuring words. You didn’t know how much his approval would affect you, embarrassingly loud wet noises coming from your soaking folds while he hits that place inside of you that makes your eyes roll back and your tongue loll out.

All your life you dreamed of having Dean’s validation, and now he was showering you in it, your cunny fluttering at his constant moans and grunts of elation, even though you haven't touched him once. His satisfaction came from giving you pleasure.

That burning euphoria mounts up and up till it snaps and you fall down the precipice. A rush of pure, untainted ecstasy overtakes you and you scream, the drive of his fingers scissoring your spasming walls prolonging your orgasm.

As you lay there, atop the light-up table, a panting and heaving mess, Dean slowly withdraws his fingers from you, making you squirm and whine at the absence.

There's some movement happening around you, the rustling sound of clothes hitting the floor along with the metallic clank of a buckle. You barely register the lack of his mouth on your injured leg, any ounce of pain that you once felt coming from it having been entirely erased.

You sense him grabbing the sides of your panties and ripping the fine cloth with quick, firm hands, and you still can't find it in yourself to react while the flimsy pieces of fabric are rendered into useless scraps that fall off of your body.

But the blunt end of his dick searing into you is what brings you back to reality, the feel of his girth stretching you in ways you didn't even know were possible being too much to ignore.

The whole thing was too much. The position that you were in, with your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips yet again just so they don't dangle off the table. The noises coming from both of you, broken sobs that begged for more of that violent jolt of adrenaline. And, of course, the incomparable sensation of being split open by the biggest cock you've ever taken.

“You're doing so good, kiddo.” You make grabby hands at him when you hear him call you that, whimpering pathetically, and he leans over you to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips.

Some sick part of your brain brings forth all the times he hugged you when you were still a teen. The way his huge hands would squeeze the small of your back and your tits would rub up on him as you stood on your tippy-toes to receive his embrace. The way he would linger a little too long and bend his neck to steal a whiff of your hair.

He pinches the side of your belly and you gasp, his tongue seizing the opportunity to force its entrance into the warm cavern of your mouth. You scratch the skin of his nape and pull on the short hairs on the back of his head, moaning at the slick, pornographic kiss.

His lips close around your tongue and he sucks on it, slurping noises filling the room as he pounds into you, his heavy balls hitting your dripping pussy and squelching over and over.

“Keep taking all of it.” He breaks the kiss to whisper in your ear, filthy words in that baritone voice littering you with goosebumps. “Be a big girl and take all of this dick.”

You let out a puff of hot air and nod at him, promising to do your best as he spears the fat head of his shaft in and out of you with abandon.

His sweat begins to blend in with yours and you tug at the hem of his shirt, wholeheartedly annoyed at the fact that he was still wearing it at all. Dean chuckles, all sharp and pointy teeth that could rip into you and take out a chunk of your flesh, but instead, he spoils you and removes the offending garment, putting his hands over his head and pulling the shirt from behind till it is off, tossing it aside without a second thought.

You grope the span of his torso, from his broad shoulders to his barrel chest, and then his defined abdomen. There was definitely something unusual going on below the surface, an unlimited potential he kept trying to contain. As if he could grow bigger, become somehow larger, change right before your eyes.

You feel your way through the taut muscles under his skin, running your palms down his powerful arms and back up to his wide neck. He gulps under your scrutiny, your hands catching the way his throat bobs and his pupils shrink then dilate again, seemingly as mesmerized by you as you are by him.

He takes your right hand and brings it to his face, mouthing the pulse point, scenting you as he fucks you, the hammering of his length into your cunny growing erratic. He licks and sucks and scrapes his fangs on your wrist, almost to the point of breaking the fragile skin, groaning as you whine desperately.

The more he rams into you, molding you to the shape of his absurdly hard member, the more you come to terms with the fact that he has ruined you to any other man. Because why would you seek someone else's touch when you know only Dean Winchester and his monster dick have the power to obliterate your pussy?

With his free hand, he applies pressure to your clit, swiping the rigid pearl up and down and side to side, ignoring your pleas for mercy as you find yourself on the verge of overstimulation.

“Come on, kiddo, give me another one.” He commands, tone silky and honeyed, but still imposing and domineering in a way that if he were to tell you to jump, all you could do would be to ask how high. “I know you can give me another one.” He keeps going, thumb relentlessly playing with your pleasure point. “Cum again for me.”

You yell, honest to God yell, unsure if you can survive the wave of heat that burns in your loins when your cunt compresses around him, all the nerve endings in your body vibrating simultaneously while you cum.

Because he fucked you so good, because he rubbed you just right, because he said so.

As the dam breaks, a sudden spurt of hot, slippery fluids pours forth from your slit. A copious outflow of liquid cascades from you and lands on Dean's pelvis and his lower stomach.

“Fuck!” You elongate the word, sobbing due to the unmatched delight you experience like you never experienced before. The feeling boarding on too much and not enough at the same time, Dean's fingers continuing to grind against your center even as you squirt all over him.

“What a messy girl.” He grins, iridescently green eyes sparkling atypically, fingers finally quitting their assault on your raw clit, your cunt contracting around his veiny cock from the aftershocks of your mind-blowing release. “Spraying your juices everywhere.” He tuts and pulls out from you, inch by inch, agonizingly slow.

You give out a pitiful lament at the loss and at his taunting words, the noise that comes from your throat utterly unbecoming of a grown woman, but you can't seem to care at this point.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know I-” Dean interrupts your expression of regret with the full weight of his dominant hand landing between your legs, slapping your puffy folds, and making you writhe on top of the table.

“Don't fucking apologize.” He snarls, leaning over to bury his nose in the crook of your neck and swipe his tongue on your feverish skin. “You did so good, I'm covered in your scent and everyone's gonna know.”

You mewl like a bitch in heat when he starts to jerk the span of his shaft on top of you, the mushroom head catching on your entrance from time to time while he strokes himself from base to glans. Precum weeps from the bulbous end and mixes with your own wetness.

“Gotta mark you now.” He tells you like it's the most normal thing in the world, like it's obvious. His hot breath tickles your neck, the tips of his sharp teeth almost piercing your soft flesh and you shiver at the idea that he still might just lose control and do it.

You crane your head down and do your best to steal a glance at the steady rhythm he's building, managing to stare in awe as he pumps the meat of his member.

The tender tissue is flushed and throbbing in his firm grasp, his balls tensing up, full of pent-up energy. You can't believe how big it is, beautifully cut and well groomed. Painfully hard and thick, so thick you don’t even understand how it had entered you.

He grunts and squeezes the round edge before picking up his pace, not knowing where to look as his eyes roam from your swollen lips to your pert nipples, and then your quivering pussy.

“Gonna make you smell like me.” He mumbles, muscles straining and veins bulging, steaming ropes of white bursting from his urethra and landing on your face, on your boobs, and on your belly.

Dean roars as he covers you in his spent, dense and sticky and endless shots of cum painting you. You whine in surprise, licking off some of the substance that got on your lips. He tastes rich and tangy, full of a power unknown to you but still palpable, making your tongue tingle and your throat burn when you swallow.

He's out of breath and so are you, but he doesn't allow you time to recompose yourself since he's already rubbing his release over your belly, taking a glob of it and smearing it on your slit. You thrash about because the feeling is too overwhelming, but he holds you in place and pushes his seed into your welcoming hole.

“You look gorgeous like this.” He says, reverence in his tone while he bites your earlobe and stuffs you with his essence. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

You don't know what to say, you don't know how to act. You hadn't expected to be categorically ravished by the man you had always seen as an older brother today.

In the back of your mind, you knew he wasn't that Dean, the Dean you knew your whole life, at least not fully.

Something inhuman drummed beneath his emerald eyes, the familiar hazel long gone by now. And any shadow of doubt that you might have had about his feral state is pulverized when you feel his length harden again against your inner thigh.

There’s no refractory period and you scream as he bullies that fat dick inside you once more, feeding it into you more carefully this time.

“Holy shit!” You're hoarse, sinking your nails into his shoulders and drawing blood.

How can he be hard? How is that even possible?

He hisses when he bottoms out, filling you to the brim. His rough hands find leverage on the meat of your hips, clasping each side firmly before he begins to pound into you. He uses you as a cock sleeve, lusciously scraping the ridges of his hard-on against your clammy walls.

You can't find your voice, the room spins around you, and your head bangs on the hard surface of the table in time with his thrusts.

You can feel everything. Every nook and cranny that he reaches in you. The twitch of his shaft every time he hits your cervix. The furniture that supports you creaking below.

“Mine.” He proclaims, the smacking of his sweaty skin on yours upping in tempo, the dirty noises the two of you make bordering on offensive. “Say it, say you're mine.” It's an order and you want to comply, but your brain has turned into a scrambled, useless thing so all that comes out of you is a prolonged whimper.

Dean isn't able to handle your unresponsiveness, growling loudly and inflicting another slap where you are most sensitive, a broken sob erupting from you at the contact.

“Tell me who the fuck you belong to, kiddo.” His voice is so velvety it makes your eyes roll.

He’s everywhere all at once, you can’t see or hear or smell anything else but him. Somehow he’s still growing inside you and your lungs burn because you keep forgetting to breathe. You forget your own name in favor of being the center of his world in this moment.

“I- I'm yours.” You croak out, tears getting caught by your lashes, convinced that the speed in which he pumps in and out of you should be criminal. “I'm yours, Dean."

He pulls violently on your hair and howls, guttural and wild, the base of his member expanding impossibly larger still and stretching your opening when he begins to cum inside you. You try to pull away, but you physically can’t, not with the way he pins you down and plugs your cunt with his knot.

How did that happen? How did you end up here?

“This isn’t real.” You think you say it out loud, but maybe you didn’t and there’s no way of knowing for sure.

You can still feel him pulsating and ejecting spurt after spurt of his milk into you, purring so loudly you can’t even hear your own thoughts.

He rests his head on your chest, the both of you stuck to each other until you don’t know when, but he seems content with that. His fingertips draw irregular shapes up and down the expanse of your arm as he regains his wind much quicker than you do.

You stay like this with him, and at some point, he senses something you don’t and tenses up, straightening his back to look to the right of him, careful not to tug where he’s joined to you.

“Dean!” You faintly catch Sam’s voice when he shouts, but it’s muffled by the ringing in your ears.

The younger Winchester is standing by the end of the staircase, features overtaken by shock, a syringe filled with blood in his hand as he stares bug-eyed at the scene before him.

His brother on top of you while you lay naked on the table in the middle of the bunker, covered in cum and trapped on his dick, eyes dazed and blissed out, panting through parted lips.

Dean looks at Sam, then at you, then back at Sam. The supernatural glow in his irises dies down and he seems like his true self for the first time since you got there, brows furrowing while he clicks his tongue and considers the situation.

“Listen.” He raises his index finger at the furious brunet, a sheepish grin on the corners of his mouth. “In my defense, the moon was full and I was left unsupervised.”

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #Supernatural smut #dean winchester #dean x reader #spn fandom #request #story prompt #sexy times in the bunker #werewolf dean #eat my heart out #bite the fuck out of me #paint me like one of your dallas girls

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hunterscabin · 1 year

Text

Everything Goes Wrong

Summary: Dean is there to comfort his little sister after she suffers a fatal injury while hunting.

Pairings: Dean x Sister!Reader; Sam x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Angst; hurt/comfort; whump; death

Word Count: 1.3k

Author’s Note: Requested from anonymous many moons ago.

Dean. He was running toward you, screaming your name. You couldn’t comprehend his urgency; the leviathan were dead, the fight was over.

It all happened so quickly. You walked into a battle already underway. A small group of hunters also trailing the levis were first to arrive at the hideout, complicating an already dicey hunt. At the sight of their chaotic fighting, it became immediately clear that none of them had the tact or skill of a Winchester. Your brothers took action, causing two of the chompers to flee. Dean tossed one of the rookie hunters a sack of crude borax bombs and instructed them to capture the runaways. Sam crossed the warehouse, distracting one of the remaining leviathan. Dean took advantage of his brother’s diversion, driving the righteous, blood soaked bone he brandished deep into her skull.

On the other side of the abandoned stockroom, you were taking a beating from the last leviathan. He had been momentarily stunned by the bottle of borax you smashed over him, but his resiliency was remarkable. Almost immediately regaining his composure, he flung you into a pile of scrap metal. You scrambled to your feet, unsheathing your knife in the process. He made quick work of disarming you before effortlessly pinning you against a steel support beam. You winced, preparing for the worst, when suddenly, he retreated. Your eyes opened to find Sam impaling him with the bone several yards away.

High off the action, your entire body pulsed with energy. Or was it throbbing? Normally, the adrenaline of a hunt didn’t make you this… this… what was this feeling? You heard Dean shout your name again. Why did he sound so strange? A warmth spread across your stomach, and you looked down to find a mess of red. Blood? Your blood. Soaking your clothes and pooling at your feet. Bewilderment washed over you as your fingers wrapped around the handle of your blade.

Just as Dean reached your side, your legs buckled. He braced your fall and carefully lowered you to the ground.

"Sammy!" Your eldest brother’s voice was gruff and full of urgency.

Consumed with killing the leviathan, Sam had been unaware of the commotion behind him. When he turned to see you bleeding in Dean’s arms, Sam shot up and sprinted toward you. He landed hard on his knees in front of Dean.

"Just the knife?" Sam’s eyes darted rapidly up and down your trembling form, trying to assess the damage.

Not wanting to speak the words, Dean nodded, his expression telling Sam the severity of your injuries.

“The car’s too far.” Dean thought aloud.

Sam wrestled with his next move. He didn’t want to leave you. He knew your chances of surviving were slim. He heard it in Dean’s tone. He saw it on your bloodstained clothes. Still, if there was even the slightest chance of saving you, he had to try.

“I’ll see if I can catch up with the other hunters.”

Both men knew it wouldn’t be enough, but it was the best Sam had to offer. Dean nodded reluctantly.

As your brothers’ muffled voices became more clear, so did your reality. The once dull pressure was now a searing pain. Your body screamed and your face contorted.

"Y/N, look at me.” Your eyes, wide with fear and confusion, found Sam’s. "You're gonna be okay. I’m going to get help.”

Sam leaned forward and pressed a long kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right back, Y/N/N. I promise.”

Through a large, broken window, Dean watched Sam tear across the field and into the nearby woods. When he glanced back at you in his arms, your eyes were closed.

"Y/N, you gotta stay awake." Dean gently shook you until your gaze met his. "That's my girl."

"So tired, De." Your groggy voice begged for sleep.

"I know you are, kiddo, but I need you to keep your eyes on me.”

"Too hard,” you murmured, “Can’t do it."

"Yes you can, sweetheart." Dean was no longer able to mask his concern. "How can I help, Y/N/N? Tell me what to do."

Your brother’s desperation lifted the fog numbing your senses, and you clearly understood what you hadn’t before; you were dying. Anyone else would panic at this realization, beg their God for more time, cling to the last bit of life and fight. Not you. You woke every morning knowing this was a possibility. Saving people, hunting things; it was a dangerous road.

You weren’t bitter; no matter how menacing, your days were full of purpose, and that wasn’t something most people could say. You weren’t afraid; years of close calls had prepared you for this moment. You were, however, insurmountably saddened by the fact that Dean had to watch you die. You knew he would bear the weight of your absence completely despondent and guilt ridden. There was so much you wanted to say to ease his inevitable grief, but talking had grown increasingly difficult as words and breath eluded you. The most you could do was take the hand of solace Dean extended. You silently prayed that would be enough.

"Tell me a story."

Dean smiled. Between your sleepy eyes and the way you were curled in his arms, it felt like you were little again.

“Have I ever told you about the day mom and dad brought you home from the hospital?”

You shook your head “No.”

“Sammy was not happy.” Dean gave a weak laugh remembering how ornery his brother had been.

“He locked himself in his room. I tried to tell him that having a little sibling wasn’t all bad, but he wouldn’t listen. Dad had to take his door off the hinges to get him out.”

“He loves’me now.” you noted dreamily.

“He sure does.” Dean agreed, furrowing at your slurred speech. Another sign that your body was succumbing to its injuries.

“That phase lasted less than an hour,” he continued.

“Wha’happn’d?”

“He held you.” Dean’s voice was thick with nostalgia. “Mom convinced him. He sat in Dad’s chair, and she laid you in his lap. He wasn’t sure at first, but then you smiled.”

Despite your pain, a contented grin eased across your face.

“Just like that.”

“D’d you hold me?”

Dean nodded. “You were so small, but I swear your eyes were as big and Y/E/C as they are now. I stared at you for hours. I never wanted to let you go.” I still don’t want to let you go.

Dean paused to clear the sadness from his throat, but he was losing the battle against his emotions. He could see your eyes growing dim and feel your skin getting cold. You didn’t have much longer.

“I love you so much, Y/N/N.” Dean’s words were short and breathless.

“I love you too.”

Dean pulled you closer and placed a warm hand on the side of your face.

“De?” A small, crimson spot appeared at the corner of your mouth. “C’n I close m’eyes, now?"

At once, Dean felt everything and nothing. He knew the instant your eyes closed, he’d never see them again. He cursed himself for bringing you on such a risky hunt. He cursed himself for not keeping a better eye on you during the fight. He cursed Sam for still being gone. Not because he thought his younger brother would bring anything or anyone to save you, but because he knew how broken he’d be, returning to find his little sister asleep forever. He wanted to shake you, to scream, to do everything in his power to ensure your heavy lids didn’t fall, but he refrained. He knew this would be the last comfort he could ever give you. Dean surrendered to his heartache and let you slip from this world.

"Yeah, baby girl. You can rest now. I’ve got you.”

Masterlist

#dean winchester x sister!reader #dean x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam x sister!reader #winchester sister #winchester sister!reader #supernatural angst #supernatural hurt/comfort #supernatural whump

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fanfictionalraven · 2 months

Text

Reno - After

Title: Reno - After

Summary: The events leading up to and following Dean being taken to Hell.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Reader’s Father, John Winchester (mentioned)

Word Count: 3,552

Warnings: Alcoholism, mentions of suicide

Author’s Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published in 2017.

Read Reno - Before here.

Middle of nowhere, Tennessee. A dark, deserted intersection between some cotton fields. You bury the box you’d brought with you in a shallow hole right in the middle of the crossroads and wait. It doesn’t take long before the wind shifts and you can feel it standing behind you.

“Can I help you, little lady?” A man with a thick Southern drawl asks as you turn to face him. He blinks and his eyes flash red as you swallow thickly.

“I wanna make a deal. Hear you’re the one to talk to,” you say, trying to keep your voice from quivering. Demons weren’t your expertise. He smirks slightly as his eyes run over you.

“I’m sure we can work something out. What’s your little heart’s desire?” He asks. Tears well up in your eyes as you speak.

“Save the man I love,” you tell him simply. The demon lets out a dark chuckle as he starts to walk around you slowly. “I don’t even need ten years. Save him and you can take me right here, right now.”

“How noble. You realize what that means, right? Eternal damnation. Everlasting suffering and torture,” he says, stopping dead in front of you. You have to force yourself not to flinch back from the closeness. “All for some man?”

“He’s not just some man,” you say. Looking you over one more time, he shrugs.

“His name?” He asks. You frown and shake your head.

“Do we have a deal?” You ask. He cocks an eyebrow at you and you curse yourself internally. Now you’d peaked his interest in the worst possible way.

“Name first, Sweetheart,” he says. You set your jaw and cross your arms.

“Do we have a deal?” You ask again. The demon stares at you intently and his eyes flash red once again.

“Winchester,” he says, gauging your reaction. You try to keep your face under control but Dean always said you had a crap poker face. The demon smirks and shakes his head, taking a step back. “Sorry. Can’t undo that one. Everyone downstairs is pretty excited to be getting their hands on his soul.” You pull your gun and the demon laughs, shaking his head. “You know that ain’t gonna work.”

“No. But it can’t feel good,” you tell him before squeezing the trigger. You fire three shots into his chest, forcing him to take a few steps backwards. The demon grunts then starts to laugh. He moves to take a step before he’s stopped by an invisible force.

“What did you do??” He snarls. Smirking, you step closer to him then drag your foot across the dirt in front of him revealing a mat with a devil’s trap painted on it underneath his feet. He lets out an animal growl as you turn and walk towards your car.

One month, Y/N.

Y/N please answer me. He’s got two weeks.

You’re gonna regret it if you don’t see him and you know it. One week. We’ll be at Bobby’s. Please.

Stop ignoring me, Y/N. We’ve got a lead on Lilith and we’re going. I know he wants you there. Tomorrow’s his last day.

You stare at the latest text from Sam. The last few months, you’d spent in denial. It wasn’t really going to happen. Sam and Bobby were going to be sure of that. They were going to find a way to get Dean out of deal even if you couldn’t. But the months passed and based on the ignored texts and missed calls, Dean was really about to be dragged to Hell. They had one last shot but Sam didn’t exactly sound hopeful. You were a day’s drive from Sioux Falls. You couldn’t be sure if you were going to even make it in time but, damn it, you had to try.

You race from your motel room, not even bothering to check out. The drive is long and laborious as you push the old Mustang to its limits. You’re running on pure adrenaline and the thought of seeing Dean again. The engine seems to breathe a sigh of relief when you finally cut it off in Bobby’s driveway. The Impala and Bobby’s truck are both sitting there as well. Maybe you had made it in time.

The distance between Bobby’s front door and your car seems like miles as you run up towards the porch. You don’t even bother to knock, barreling into the house. It’s quiet inside as you round the corner, through the kitchen and into the study. Bobby and Sam look up at you, momentarily startled. You watch as both of their faces fall. They look away, unable to meet your eyes.

You were too late.

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

A bender. That’s how you’d spent the last 15 months. Random motel rooms across the country, hitting each bar in town. You’d avoided your dad, Bobby, and Sam, sending an occasional text to your father letting him know you were alive. Not that the three of them hadn’t tried to reach out to you. Numerous missed calls and texts were cluttering up your phone. You couldn’t even remember the last case you’d actually worked.

You had tried after Dean had died. You really did because you knew that was what he would have wanted. He would have wanted you to keep going, fight the good fight, save people, hunt things. And it worked – for a month. That was when the nightmares started. It was always the same. Dean screaming in agony for you as legions of demons tortured him. You’d wake up in a cold sweat, short of breath, and sobbing. Alcohol seemed to be the only thing that helped. So you drank…and drank…and drank. You practically stayed drunk after that.

Over the past 15 months, you’d woken up in a lot of different places. Typically you stayed in your car or some motel room. A few times, you woke up in some strange guy’s apartment or house. Once you were chased from a home by an angry wife whose husband you’d spent the night with. On three different occasions in three different states you woke up in jail. Public intoxication. Assault. Inciting a riot. You’d managed to get out of all the charges somehow. But this – this was a new place.

You blink against the bright lights above you then squeeze your eyes closed, fighting the pulse in your left temple. Something’s beeping. Incessantly. It only takes a moment for you to realize what it is. A heart monitor. You’re in a hospital. You finally manage to open your eyes and assess your situation. Your hands are tied down to the railings and there’s an IV in your right elbow, running up to a machine. The door opens and you look up quickly. Your father is standing there, a coffee cup in his hand.

“Hey! You’re awake,” he says, relief clear in his voice. He rushes to your side and runs a hand over your hair. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” you groan. He smiles a little sadly then shrugs.

“No truck. Just fell off a bridge,” he tells you. Your eyes widen quickly as you stare at him. He looks down at your hand, placing his own over it. “They thought you jumped at first. But, ugh, when they got you to the hospital and did some blood work, they realized how drunk you were. Figured you’d just stumbled and fell. But they wanted to make sure you weren’t going to be a danger to yourself when you woke up so…” He trails off, squeezing your hand slightly. Your heart aches at the pain on his face. You’d never meant to hurt him like this. He was all you had after all.

“Dad, I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” you say, trying to get him to meet your eyes. When he finally does, you wish he hadn’t. You’d seen that look before. It was the same look he’d had when he had to tell you that your mother was dead.

“Yea you are, Y/N. Just slowly. Do you realize what you’ve already done to your liver? If you keep this up, I’m going to have to bury you. That’s not something a parent should have to do,” he says, trying not to cry. You look away as a tear slides down your cheek. He sighs and wipes it away for you. “I called Bobby and he said that once you’re out he’s got something for you to see.”

“I don’t need another of your interventions, Dad,” you snap. He, Bobby, and Sam had tricked you once about seven months ago with an “emergency”. It turned out to be a setup. Three against one, trying to get you to sober up. You’d left, furious and hurt.

“It’s not an intervention, Y/N. I think he just wants to see you,” he explains. You sigh and relent, agreeing to go. You felt so bad right now your father could probably get you to agree to anything.

They keep you for one more night just for observation. You’d apparently gotten really lucky. The bridge wasn’t too high and the water wasn’t too shallow. You’d only hit your head on a rock before someone dove in and grabbed you. A couple had been out for a romantic walk when they saw you fall over. The man pulled you from the water while his wife called for the ambulance.

As soon as you’re released, your dad gets you in his car and the two of you head for Sioux Falls. It was a few hours drive so you decide to relax, just resting your head against the window. You’re not going to fall asleep. You know what’s waiting for you if you do. You close your eyes but you’re not going to sleep. You’re not…

“Y/N!! Y/N, sweetheart, wake up!!” You hear your father calling to you. You sit up quickly, trying to catch your breath. “You were screaming.”

“Just – just a nightmare,” you tell him, running your hands over your face. He watches you, concerned.

“Okay, well, we’re almost to Bobby’s,” he says, turning onto a road. You nod and sit up, trying to shake the images from the nightmare. It was the same as all the others – Dean in Hell, in pain, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

Your dad pulls into Bobby’s driveway and you frown as he stops behind his truck. That old Impala is sitting just a few feet away. Sam was here too.

“Thought you said this wasn’t another intervention,” you say, looking over at him. He sighs and shrugs.

“Maybe Sam just wants to see you too. We’ve all been pretty worried about you,” he says. The two of you get out and you walk up to the porch together. He opens the door and allows you to step inside first. The house is quiet, just like the last time you’d been there. You walk through the kitchen and into the study where Bobby and Sam are both sitting. Sam rises from his spot on the couch and walks over to you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“You had us scared to death,” he says. You sigh and return the hug. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before he lets you go. Bobby is there as soon as your out of Sam’s arms.

“Don’t you ever do that again. You hear me, Y/N?” He says, grabbing you by the arms. You frown and nod quickly. “Your dad called. Said they thought you’d jumped off a bridge. Do you know what that did to us?”

“I didn’t jump. I swear. There was no intent. I’m not suicidal. Just…a clumsy drunk,” you tell them all. Bobby watches you for a moment then pulls you into a bone crushing hug. You sigh and hug him too, burying your face in his chest. You’d never meant to hurt these three men. You loved each of them dearly. He finally lets you go and you look between them. “So? What did you have to show me?” You ask. They all share a look.

“Y/N, why don’t you sit down,” Sam suggests, motioning to the couch. You frown and cross your arms.

“I do not need another intervention,” you tell them defiantly. Sam shakes his head quickly, going to say something. But the voice you hear next doesn’t come from Sam. It doesn’t come from your father or from Bobby.

“You should sit down, Darlin’,” Dean’s voice says from behind you. Your eyes flutter close and you take a shaky breath.

“Tell me someone else heard that,” you say, your voice quiet. You open your eyes at their silence and find them all three watching you closely. Turning slowly, your Y/E/C eyes meet those green ones. You feel your knees start to go weak. Sam places a hand on your back as Dean steps forward, taking your hands in his. You look down, shocked. You hadn’t expected his hands to be solid – to be real. You expected cold, not warmth. But they felt exactly like you remembered. “Oh my god. I’m dead.” Dean chuckles softly and you look up at him.

“You’re not dead, Sweetheart. I’m back. It’s, ugh, it’s a long story but I’m here. I’m me,” he says. You swallow thickly as the tears spring to your eyes. A shaky hand reaches up and your fingers just graze his cheek. His eyes close and he turns into your hand, pressing his lips against your palm. You choke on a sob before throwing your arms around him. Your body shakes as you cry into his shoulder, his hands gently rubbing your back. He sighs and places a chaste kiss against your temple. You finally manage to pull yourself together enough to look at him again.

“When did you get back?” You ask. His face falls slightly before he answers.

“Bout four months ago,” he tells you. You stare at him. Four months? Did he say four months? You push away from him quickly and he sighs.

“You’ve been back for four months and no one thought I should know?!” You nearly shout, looking at each of them. Sam frowns and shakes his head.

“We tried calling you, Y/N, but you never answered,” he says. Your dad nods, taking a step forward.

“We didn’t even know where you were,” he adds. You frown and look at the ground. They were right, of course. You’d been ignoring them all and running for over a year now. You feel Dean’s hand at the small of your back and you look up at him. Your breath catches in your throat at the look in his eyes. That same old look. Something.

“Can we have that conversation we shoulda had four years ago?” He asks. You bite your lip and nod slightly. He takes your hand in his then pulls you out the backdoor. He leads you a few yards out into the scrapyard before he stops and turns to face you. “So…”

“So…” You say.

“So…” He repeats, nodding slightly. You both start to laugh and his arms snake around your waist. You rest your hands on his shoulders, noticing for the first time how well the two of you fit – like two puzzle pieces, perfectly snapped together. “So, I probably shouldn’t have jumped straight into the whole marriage thing.”

“Dean,” you say, shaking your head. He reaches up, putting a finger over your lips.

“Let me talk, okay?” He asks. You smile slightly and nod. He drops his hand, the arm returning to your waist. “I shoulda started with dinner. Or just…telling you that I fell in love with you the moment I saw you under the hood of that old mustang right in this very spot.” You look around and smile. This was the spot. The spot you’d first noticed it in his eyes when he looked at you. “But I just wanted you to be mine.”

“I always have been. I was just scared,” you tell him. “The only hunters I ever knew that tried the whole marriage thing were my parents. And Mom died protecting Dad. You’d already been hurt multiple times trying to protect me. And then your dad was telling you the same thing. I panicked and I ran. I’ve been running for four years. I’m so tired of running, Dean.” He smiles softly and reaches up, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“Then stop. We don’t have to get married. We don’t have to date or whatever. I just want you right next to me for however long we’ve got left. Because, dammit woman, I love you,” he says. You break into a wide smile before his lips come crashing down against yours. You slide your hands into his hair, parting your lips to him.

For the first time in four years, everything felt right. Dean’s arms around your waist, fisting the shirt at your back. His lips moving hungrily against yours. Your fingers tightening in his hair. He pulls away, breathing heavily. His forehead comes to rest against yours and you sigh.

“I love you too,” you whisper. He smiles then presses his lips to your forehead before you step away from each other. He catches one of your hands, linking your fingers together, as you slowly walk back to the house together.

“Sam’s gonna want to get two rooms now,” he says, You laugh and shake your head. “What? You think I’m gonna be able to keep my hands to myself?” He asks, pulling you closer to his side.

“I think you’ll learn to control yourself, Winchester,” you tell him. He smiles and kisses your temple before pulling the back door open. You pull him back into the house with the rest of your family.

THREE MONTHS LATER

You pull your car into the parking lot of the building and glance over at Dean. He still has his eyes closed but you can see he’s getting impatient. He doesn’t like riding shotgun in someone else’s car, even if that someone else is you. And he definitely doesn’t like not knowing where he’s going. You reach over, putting a calming hand on his arm.

“Alright. You can open your eyes and stop pouting now,” you tell him. If his eyes were open, he’d roll them at you. He turns his head towards you before opening his eyes. You smile at him. “I didn’t bring you out here to stare at me.” He rolls his eyes now and looks out the front windshield. He raises an eyebrow.

“A wedding chapel?” He asks. You bite your lip and nod slightly.

“Not just any wedding chapel,” you tell him. He returns his attention to you now, confused. You turn enough to look behind you. Pointing to the motel across the street, you sigh. “That is where I left you nearly five years ago. And this,” you turn back to the chapel, “is the chapel you wanted to get married in.” You look back at Dean and his face is unreadable. He runs a hand over his jaw slowly.

“Are you proposing to me, Y/N?” He asks, cutting his eyes over at you. “Cause I don’t see a ring.” You bite back a smile and nod.

“Yes, Dean Winchester, I am proposing marriage to you,” you say. He shakes his head slowly.

“No, it’s just not a proposal if there isn’t a ring,” he says, looking out the window. You sigh and roll your eyes.

“Dean,” you start but he turns to face you, holding his hand out. What’s laying in his palm takes your breath away. It’s a simple gold band with a single diamond on it. It isn’t much but it’s more than you needed, more than you expected. Your eyes are brimming with tears when you look back up at him.

“You never let me finish that story, all those years ago. Dad told me you were a distraction. I told him I was going to marry you. He pulled this from his pocket and placed it in my hand. Told me if I was absolutely hellbent on marrying you, to give you this,” he says before looking back down at the ring. “It was Mom’s.”

“Oh, Dean,” you gasp. A stray tear manages to slip away and he reaches up, wiping it away quickly.

“What do you say?” He asks. You nod quickly and he smiles, leaning the rest of the way across the front seat to kiss you. Your hands find his face, holding him to you. When you eventually break away, he slips the ring onto your left hand.

“You realize you have to take my name, right?” You ask him. He looks at you quickly, raising an eyebrow. “I asked first, it’s only fair.”

“Technically, I asked first,” he says. You let out a laugh and nod, looking down at the ring on your finger. “Besides Y/N Winchester has a better ring to it than Dean Y/L/N.” You look up at him and there it is in his eyes. Something. That same something you plan to wake up seeing for the rest of your life. Love.

#fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #supernatural #spn #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer #john winchester

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