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julesthequirky · 6 months

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The 'Uncle': Part One

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: Three years ago your mother introduced you to her new boyfriend, Dean, and since then you've all gelled as a new family. Dean treats your mother like she's the finest gold and you honestly couldn't be happier for her. But what you weren't counting on was a new 'uncle', and there's something about the way that he looks at you that makes your skin crawl...

Characters/Pairings: Step 'Uncle'!Sam x Step 'Neice'!Reader, Dean, OC Denise (reader's mother), Omar, Tony, Raven, Emily.

Overall Warnings: Noncon (rape), degradation, finger sucking, mentions of blowjobs, blackmail, manipulation.

W/C: 2,336

“She’s eighteen, Denise. I’m sure she’ll be fine on her own.”

“I don’t know,” Your mother chewed her bottom lip. “What if something happens? I’d feel better if someone was here, like Sam.”

Fuck. No. Anyone but him. Dread lined the pit of your stomach at the thought of Dean’s brother in your home for a week whilst your mother and Dean went on vacation.

“Mom, please. I’m an adult.”

“You’re not twenty-one yet, missy.”

You pleaded, giving her your best Bambi eyes. She turned to Dean, who had his arm around her waist.

“You know what I think, Dee? She’s old enough, and Y/N is a good kid,” he chuckled. “Hell, kids her age are doing all sorts of things - drinking, parties, passing something from Kentucky, ahah.” Dean petered off as he realised he’d put his foot in it.

He chuckled, and you shot him a look to say, ’Why’d you go and say that for?’. But, of course, your mother would never let you stay home alone now, and she stared dumbstruck at her boyfriend for a moment before turning to you.

“I’m calling Sam.”

“No, Mom, please. I don’t need supervision!”

“Dee—” Dean attempted.

“No, I’ve made up my mind.” With that, she strutted off, already dialling his number.

Dammit. That was it then.

“Sorry, kiddo.” Dean squeezed your shoulder as your mother stayed firm in her decision and he followed her into the living area.

Knowing Sam would be sitting put a sour taste in your mouth, and nausea roiled in your stomach. You would be subject to him for a week, where he would get away with anything. And they had no idea.

It started two years ago when Sam came over to celebrate the 4th of July. Dean was at the barbecue, beer in hand, tongs in another, and wearing an apron that made you and your mother laugh, prompting you to tell him, ‘That’s not what meat man means’.

You were dancing to music in your cutest short-shorts and t-shirt, with the hosepipe filling the inflatable pool, when the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, the feeling extending down your spine. You turned, hose in hand, and your eyes honed in on the cause.

You thought Dean was tall. Well, he was taller. And he was staring right at you. Your smile slipped. Something about the intensity of his look made you nervous, and you couldn’t help but shake the feeling of being caught in a predator’s gaze.

He raised the beer to his mouth, and you turned to face the pool, eyes fixed on the water rippling, intent on not gaining any more attention than you had already garnered.

Out of sheer luck, you managed to stay away from Sam. When he was around, you were out. But it seemed that the inevitable couldn’t be fought.

Fuck. Fuck Fuck!!! You mentally cursed yourself out as you approached the house. The lights were on. Meaning Sam was home. Thinking you’d be fine, you hadn’t taken your rucksack with a spare change of clothes. Which also meant that you couldn’t even use your typical studying excuse.

You weren’t stupid enough to go through the front door, so you sneaked around the house’s edge to not set the sprinkler’s off and headed for the backyard gate. You gave it a tentative push, and it swung open slightly. Relief washed through you, intensely grateful that you wouldn’t be attempting parkour tonight.

You edged towards the trellis that lead up to your balcony when suddenly you were plunged into darkness. The fuck?

You knelt, frozen on the spot, heart pounding in your chest, as you listened desperately for a sound, anything. But nothing, except for the crickets in the grass. You mentally chided yourself and willed yourself to calm down. Still, the adrenaline running through your veins had you on edge, and you wouldn’t breathe until you were safe inside your room.

With some sense of calmness, you make your way to the trellis. You’re sure that he’s probably gone to sleep. With that self-reassurance, you climbed the frame with ease and expertise. Dean had talked about bringing it down as it blocked the sight of the yard from the living room, but you’d managed to talk him out of it.

You dropped onto the balcony, making barely a sound, and quickly found relief as you let yourself into your bedroom. You closed the door behind you and closed the curtains, making it look like you had been here all along.

“Have a good time out?” A voice asked.

“Fffffuuuuuuuuck!!” You yelled, heart soaring to your throat, a coldness washing over you. You spun around to see Sam sitting in the corner of your room.

He clicked on the bedside lamp beside him. Then, watching you, he rose to his feet. That familiar prickly feeling came to your head and awareness of how screwed you were slid down your spine.

You opened your mouth, but he beat you to it. “There are cameras. By the gate, Y/N.”

Shit. You’d forgotten about the damn cameras. Dean had installed them, joking that they were only for show, only because your mother had worried herself over intruders.

He stepped closer until he had you craning your neck back just to look at him. He was so damn tall. You swallowed thickly…. you were in the shit, for sure.

Sam was a brooder. He was patient and always found the right opportunity that worked in his favour.

“Does your momma know you dress like a slut?” Sam asked, fingering the hem of your super short skirt.

Your hand swatted his away, and his eyes narrowed at your slight. You’d poked the bear. Nice one.

“Your momma gave me a list of rules for you to adhere to. No parties, no drinking, no smoking and no boys. How many do y’think you’ve broken? Three at least, I’d say.”

All of them. You’d broken all your mother’s rules.

Damn. Fuck. You had swilled your mouth with mouthwash at least twice and popped a mint just in case, and to combat the herbal smell you had sprayed so much, you had coughed and spluttered before Ubering back. On top of that, you had begged your Uber driver, Omar, to stop at least a block away, so Sam wouldn’t get suspicious.

If he was angry, he didn’t show it. In fact, you’d say he’d been waiting for this moment as a smirk curved his lips.

“Your momma thinks you’re this perfect little angel, but I know different. And Dean’s too pussywhipped to see through your little act.”

In the two years you’ve known Sam, he’d barely spoken two words to you. Now, filth was spewing from his lips.

You had the wool pulled over your mother’s and Dean’s eyes. And they were none the wiser. You’d perfected the routine. Practised the lie so much it was second nature. Now, standing before you, Sam posed as a real threat to your perfectly curated deception.

“You weren’t supposed to be here!” You admitted, and he laughed.

“Oh, I know, darlin’. Did mommy dearest just have to go and ruin your plans?” he mocked condescendingly.

The nerve of this man. It angered you. He knew exactly how your mother worried herself nearly to death. And he used it to his advantage feeding into her anxiety. He whispered poison into her ear, and no amount of convincing could appeal to her rationale. It all fell on deaf ears.

“She’s just concerned.”

And she had every right to be. At four, you had been out with your dad, doing errands, and a drunk driver on the wrong side of the road had ploughed headfirst into your dad’s car, killing him instantly. He never stood a chance. You on the other hand – it had been a miracle that you had come out almost unscathed.

“Is that so?” A malicious grin spread across his face.

You backed up, eyes wide, mouth forming a small o, the prey to a predator, as he stalked towards you. When the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress you almost fell on your ass, but Sam gripped your shoulder, stopping you from going anywhere.

“Well, she should be concerned.”

Danger spiked his words and fear rooted you to the spot.

“I’ll tell Dean.” You managed to choke out.

He snorted. “You’ll tell Dean what? How you seduced a grown man. That you couldn’t control yourself and succumbed to the lust surging in that little body o’ yours. Who do you think he’s gonna believe? The lawyer or the whore?”

“I’m not a whore.” You stood defiant.

“Oh please. I know you’ve sucked more cock than anybody else in your year.”

His fingers trailed over the curve of your lips. A whimper slipped out, and you gave a tentative shake of your head.

“Sam…”

He grinned like a child that was happy playing with its toy. He pushed his fingers past your lips and into the hot cave of your mouth.

“Suck.” He ordered.

You wouldn’t. You stood, staring hard at him with a mouth full of his fingers.

He bent low, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

“If you don’t start sucking, I’ll call your mother and tell her all about tonight.”

That bastard. Heat flamed your cheeks, and the strange sensation of shame filled you. His fingers nudged forwards, the heavy digits resting on your tongue curling down to the back of your throat.

If your mother found out about your exploits, you could kiss goodbye to the prospect of staying in a college dorm come September. Your mother would never let you out of her sights, and you’d never know freedom.

After a moment, your cheeks hollowed, and your tongue flexed. He groaned in pleasure.

“Such a good girl.” He praised.

Your tongue lashed over the digits, curling around them, sucking them as deep as they would go until eventually he pulled his fingers free with a resounding pop.

You avoided his gaze until he tipped your chin back.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You refused to answer him. He tutted, then grasped your chin and forced your head to shake ‘no’.

“Please. Let me go. I just want to sleep.”

You wished you’d taken up Emily’s offer to bunk at her place. Sleeping on a pull-out bed where the springs poked your back seemed far more appetizing than facing your ‘uncle’ tonight. You’d considered it, played around with it in your mind, but had you not turned up until morning, Sam would have called your mother.

“Let you go? Don’ think so, girlie.”

Your eyes fluttered shut and the first drop of a tear, slipped down, catching on his hand.

“Please.”

His fingers grasping your chin, loosened, eventually letting go. Shuddering in a breath, your eyes opened,

“I won’t tell anyone.” You’d take it to the grave.

“You won’t?”

You shook your head. You just wanted him to stop.

“I’ll stay in and do the housework. I’ll—”

“Bargaining won’t work with me, darlin’.”

Fuck. Your stomach dropped, leaving a sour taste in your mouth, and your heart thudded heavily in your chest. You craned your neck to look at him, and took a steady breath.

“So, who was the lucky boy tonight?”

His question caught you off guard, it had you blinking in confusion.

“C’mon, darlin’. I know you’re not stupid. Who’s cock did you suck?”

You shook your head. “No-ones.” You lied.

Long time crush, hot quarterback Tony had been at the party with a few of his buddies, playing beer pong. Emily had pushed you towards him, and then she had quickly ditched you, going off with Raven.

You’d forced yourself to make small talk, all the while wondering what the fuck you were doing. You’d almost pinched yourself when he suggested that he wanted to dance. With you. His body moved close to yours, closer still. His lips brushed your ear, your lips, your neck, hands exploring your heated skin. and you’d said the hell with it.

Tony had pulled you into a cloakroom, the chord light switch cast shadows, as you kissed. Then the next thing you were taking him into your mouth, with satisfied groans above you.

Sam sighed and pulled out his phone. he made a few taps before angling the screen down to you. Right there, from a hidden camera was Tony, pants down and you on your knees, hands gripping his hips.

All the energy within evaporated, and the colour drained from your face. How? No, you didn’t want to know.

“You’re a dirty little liar.” He whispered.

“Sam, I—”

“Save it,” he interrupted. “What would your momma say, hmm?”

He made a few more taps, turning it back around for you to see. Your mother was clicked ready to send. Your eyes widened, and adrenaline shot through your system, heating your temperature. He wouldn’t. But he would, and you knew that. He would do just about anything to get what he wanted.

“Please! You can’t. She’d lose her mind! I’d lose college privileges. Please, Sam, please!” you begged, hysterical, desperate for him to back away from the nuclear button.

Sam’s eyebrows raised as you begged and pleaded. But no amount would stop him on his current mission to screw up your life. Nothing would stop him unless he got what he wanted. You slumped, defeated.

“Tell me what you want.”

A slow malicious grin spread across his face, glee danced in his eyes. Sam leant down, pushing his face to yours.

“Oh darlin’, ‘m gunna pop your cherry.”

Coldness swooped down, freezing your blood, and his words knocked around your head, but you could barely hear them over the thrashing heartbeat in your ears.

No. No. No.

Your breath rasped, coming out quicker when his hand soothed down your cheek. Your eyes squeezed shut unable to stop the sob of hopelessness escaping your chest.

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