The Reader needs some comfort. She finds it in cuddles with Dean and a little bit of time with guns and family.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: loss of a loved one, ANGST, food mention/eating, getting to shoot guns (non-live targets), FLUFF
Word Count: 1000
Note: I’m sorry this is not the smutty thing I wanted to share, but it’s what I needed. And the only thing I could seem to write. I didn’t mean to jip you guys two Dean fics in a row. Hopefully, the next fic will be better.
I couldn’t breathe. Everything hurt. Every muscle yearned for release as if from a brutal workout. My very heartstrings ached.
“Y/N?” Dean’s voice came before his gentle knock on the door. When I didn’t answer, he hesitated then slowly pushed the door open. “Oh, Y/N.”
Dean kneeled by my bed and pushed the hair out of my face. He grimaced to see how red and puffy it was. I closed my eyes, half hoping he would take the hint, and half hoping he wouldn’t. His hand smoothed across my forehead and down my cheeks, brushing away the wetness there. “What happened?”
How to say it? To say it out loud would make it final. Something I couldn’t change. Or maybe it was final.
“My mother called.” My face grew hot again. Tears I did not want threatened to spill. “I… she…” Breathe Y/N. That’s all you can do. Breathe. “My grandmother. She passed away last night.” My voice cracked. The already soaked pillowcase didn’t do a good job of hiding my face because Dean crawled in beside me.
He pulled me close so I could cry into his chest instead.
“Vampires and demons and monsters. I know how to kill them all. What was I supposed to do against this? Dementia hurt enough. Hearing the same stories over and over again. Fearing the day she would forget me. The stroke took everything else.” My voice shrank to a whisper. “She couldn’t speak a month ago.” The back of my throat hurt but I had to keep going or it would sink deeper and choke me. “But she knew me. She held my hand and squeezed it. She knew me.”
Dean rubbed my back. “She knew you. What about a couple of weeks ago? You never told me…”
“She was asleep.” I puffed a broken laugh. “She kind of looked like the pit mummies I learned about in class. Curled on her side, her hands pulled to her chest. The wrinkles I know… knew.” I thought back to it, my last visit. “I sat there for almost an hour trying to remember what she looked like over the years. My uncle tried talking me out of going to see her. Said I wouldn’t be able to see past how she looked at the end. But I could. Her squinty eyes when she laughed or was trying not to. How her nose would scrunch when she disapproved of what my brother or I was doing.”
He smiled. “I’m glad I got to meet her.”
Again, I laughed. “You were glad to have the Y/L/N breakfast. Nana gravy and Pop’s country ham especially.”
“Not only. I was also happy to hear all those embarrassing stories about you I’d never heard before.”
We shared a laugh, and I took note of how my chest didn’t hurt as much. Still, my skin buzzed. “I can’t lay here all day.”
He grunted in agreement.
“I need something to do. One thing I can complete, start to finish.” He wasn’t going to like it. “I need a case.”
“That’s the last thing you need to do right now.” Dean leaned back enough to look at my face. He thought for a moment. “We have a shooting range.”
“That should work.” I quickly crawled out of his arms and grabbed a flannel. “Let’s go.”
At first, I thought I would shoot a target or two, then maybe crash with a movie to not be alone with my thoughts. But the bunker was stocked. Like super stocked. Handguns of various weights. Tiny boot guns to heavy revolvers. The shotguns were probably the most satisfying. Whole sections of the paper targets were shredded. It matched what I felt like. What I wished I could do to the intangible illness that took my grandmother.
I shot targets for hours. Until my shoulder hurt and the smell of oil and gunpowder were burned into my nose. The smell of baking replaced it.
Dean was nearly comical to look at. The white apron had done nothing to keep flour from covering him up to his elbows or all over his face. To one side, it was a miracle he could still see the computer screen he was using for a recipe. On the counter was a large basket covered with a hand towel.
“Are those,” I gasped, “are those… Nana biscuits?”
He turned, surprised to hear my voice. “Ah, yeah. I, uh, I remembered you said something about filming your grandmother the last time she made her family-famous biscuits. I found it. I wanted to surprise you with a double batch, but it got away from me.” He held up his arms as proof.
There were enough to sink a ship. But the fridge was also stocked with everyone’s favorite jams and jellies. Dean put himself in charge of cooking up bacon while I fried bologna. Sam, when he finally got home with Cas, cooked eggs (scrambled and fried). Cas watched and snuck a biscuit with honey as an ‘appetizer.’
It was home.
After dinner, Cas pulled a few strings and snuck me in to see her heaven. I was there. The memory she was reliving was watching my brother and I play on the porch. It had been eventually closed in and functioned more like a hallway, but the kitchen alcove still had the windows that slid up and down. We were hopping through them, delivering supplies by one of Dad’s old toy covered wagons. She looked… content. Relaxed. Not in pain or searching for lost time. Like Nana.
“Thank you, Cas.” Heaven faded away as he brought us back to the bunker. I landed on the couch next to Dean.
My cheeks were warm again, and my chest ached. But in a good way. I knew it wouldn’t go away for a while. But I would get used to it, like a brick in my pocket. A weight that I would forget about for a while until she would come to mind. But that would be okay. I would be okay.
Marvel: Bucky Barnes, Erik Killmonger, Kevin Ford, Loki, Steve Rogers, and Ulysses Klaue
Supernatural: Dean and Sam Winchester, Castiel, and Lucifer
WWE: 205 Live, Baron Corbin, Buddy Murphy, Cesaro, Elias Samson, Finn Balor, Jack Gallagher, Mojo Rawley, Neville, Noam Dar, Roman Reigns, Sami Zayn, Samoa Joe, Sheamus, Tommaso Ciampa, and either Uso.
I can write more characters as they are requested (like I have for Elliot Spencer, Eggsy Unwin, Sherlock, Tim McGee, and Tony DiNozzo).
Please let me know at any time if you would like to be added to a tag list. (By request or personal message.) And you can request a fic about anyone on this too! You don’t have to be shy. My only uncrossable lines are underage readers (18+ only) underaged characters, ships, or cheating. I try to write for you guys as much as I write for me.
As a defense against demons, the Reader comes up with an Enochian spell. Cas suggests testing it on him. It works, but you also find another steamier use.
Pairing: Castiel x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: SMUT, bondage (sorta?)
Word Count: 1430
Note: This took me three tries to write because I wanted it just perfect. Let me know if you think I reached that point or even close! My tag lists and requests are open. I’ve also started to reblog fics that I’ve enjoyed. [See my #ReadItForward and #WritersReadingWriters tags] I may be opening a massive can of worms, but if read something wonderful, reblog it and tag me ‘cause I’d like to check it out too! As for this fic, I hope you guys like it. Enjoy!
If you hadn’t thought Sam had the library bugged, you would have thrown the book across the room. You’d been staring at it so long the letters were starting to blur together.
“Y/N?” Cas was suddenly sitting across from you.
“Cas! Can you please not do that?” You took a deep breath to cool off your adrenaline. “I thought you were on the case with the boys?”
He nodded. “Yes. But they are finishing up and will head out in the morning.” He leaned forward and looked over the book. “Light reading?” His head tilted in confusion when you sighed. “What’s wrong?”
“I-“
Were you really going to tell him? Yes. Yes, you were.
“I’m trying to come up with a spell that will pin something to… somewhere. Like the demons do to us. We can’t put demon traps everywhere, and they aren’t any good against a spontaneous attack. I don’t trust Latin or Arimathean, or even Sanskrit, so I’m trying to better my Enochian.”
He nodded sagely. “That sounds like a good idea. But I take it from your earlier prayer of frustration that it is not going well.”
You looked off into the room with a blush. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to call you. The… lack of progress got to me I guess.”
“I am always attuned to your emotions.” He cleared his throat. “And Dean’s and Sam’s too, of course.”
“Of course.” The dry pages rustled as you rubbed them between your fingers in the silence.
“Would… would you like some… help?” He drummed on the table while you hummed in confusion. “For making an Enochian spell, the key thing is getting the rhythm right and purpose right. What you’ve got written down is too much. All that text ensures success, but with enough effort behind it, you only need a few words. You’re half a step away. Would you like… my… help to make the spell?”
You bit your lips. “I would appreciate that.”
Cas flicked around to sit beside you. He guided you through the book and helped you whittle down your work. Several hours later he had shed his coat and had rolled up his sleeves. He stood on the far side of the library, waiting to try out the spell. You read the few words, holding one hand towards him though your sight was focused on the scrap paper. Then you heard a soft ‘oompf.’ Cas was against the far wall a few feet off the ground and smiling.
“See? It works.” He landed on his feet as you lowered your hand. “Now read it like you mean it.” He stopped your worries with a calm hand. “You won’t hurt me.” He stepped closer and nodded for you to try again.
This time you brought up the memory of your last run-in with a demon. The adrenaline, the helplessness, the rage of the hunt was enough to send Cas flying backward. He twisted around a bookcase and slid across the floor until his back was against a wall.
“Cas!” You dropped your hand and rushed over to him. “Are okay?” You tried to help him away from the wall, but he flinched as you touched his back. “Sorry. Let me take a look at the damage?” You eased him out of his shirt, flinching yourself when you saw the bruises. “Oh, Cas-“
“I’m fine… see?”
You looked down again and watched the bruises fade away from under your fingertips. Relieved, you pulled your hands away, but Cas took them in his.
“Don’t stop. Please.” His thumb rubbed over your knuckles. You never noticed how warms his hands were before. “I think the same about yours.” He let you go. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to read your mind.”
“Right now, I don’t mind. What am I thinking right now?” Hoping it wasn’t too forward, you pictured his hands spread across your bare shoulders. Yours scratching down his back. Twirling fingers in each other’s hair.
Cas closed his eyes to watch and hummed. “If I would like to share that with you… can I earn it with another test?”
“You’ve already earned it.” With a hesitant breath, you leaned down and lightly brushed your lips against his. His fingers weaved into your air and your felt the room spin. When it had settled, another brush of air alerted you to your lack of clothes. Cas broke away from the kiss and gasped to see you.
His hands reached up to cup your breasts. He thumbed over your nipples, making you gasp. You arched into his touch as he tugged your peak between his teeth. His nails trailed up your thighs, leaving light lines in their wake. You bucked and pleaded for him not to tease. Cas simply chuckled. But he answered your cry with easing a digit into your heat and moaning at the wetness he found. His slow strokes and curls pulled whimpers from your lips but left your release simmering just out of reach. You dug your nails into his back. Cas growled.
“You feel so good, Y/N. Clamping down already. I’ve wanted this… I’ve wanted you for a long time. I will give you everything if you can only be a little patient.”
He was shocked when you flipped him to his back.
“I’ve been waiting too. I will not be patient.” You fought to stay on top as Cas tried to flip again. He was playing with you, making it seem like you had control when he could use his powers at any second. You could handle that. Using the same mental images you’d shown him, and the rising arousal inside you, you flattened your hands on his chest and spoke in Enochian.
Cas’s hands were caught on either side of his head and his body was taunt beneath you. He laughed, his chest rumbling under your touch. “Y/N, I am a celestial being. Sooner or later, I will… reciprocate.”
“I look forward to it.”
You began to slide back and forth across his torso. His length was trapped between his stomach and your slick. You shivered each time the head bumped into your clit. You read somewhere that there are over eight thousand nerve endings in a clit; with Cas trapped under you and his cock still driving you wild, it felt like double that. You shifted your weight and kept one hand on his chest so you could guide his cock into your heat. Your eyes closed in bliss as you sank. Cas moaned with you, quaking when you came to rest on his thighs.
“Y/N-“ He gasped and strained against the spell. It wavered as your walls fluttered. “You feel so perfect, Y/N.” He grunted, and his hips trembled under you.
You raised up and sank back down slow. Your head lolled to your shoulder, and your mouth fell open as you continued. Your nails dug into his chest as you picked up speed. Each time your blood crackled with desire, the air seemed to shimmer. You kept your eyes on Cas. He was panting hard and curling and uncurling his fists. His eyes were half-lidded and his skin had a thin sheen of sweat.
“Cas-“ you sighed.
Cas opened his eyes. They were bright, glowing just beneath the surface. You wanted to see more of that, so you slammed down on his cock as fast as you could.
It was right there. You cried out as Enochian letters glowed under your hand then fractured out. You came when they glowed the brightest before the fade. Cas could move again, and he grabbed your hips first. Your toes were still curling from the first orgasm as he thrust through it. It was hard to breathe, but Cas got you there. He let out a shuddered and jumbled flow of words then pinned your hips to his. Your body gave a jolt with each shot of cum to your walls.
He helped you off his hips to lay next to one another. You draped your arm over his chest, breathing to the rise and fall of his chest. You hummed into his skin and let your eyes close in the afterglow.
“Are you tired?” Cas asked.
“Not completely. Why?”
He rocked his head. “The brothers don’t get back until morning.” He watched you intently and you felt a cool wave of grace flow over your body, searching out the places where you were most sensitive. “I have a spell of my own, or two, that I would like to test. May I?”
Y/N gets dragged to a boxing match by her friends where she meets Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester, a boxer who is forced to win or lose depending on how much money his bosses want to make in matches. Can their combined effort break the fixed boxing ring? [Series Masterlist]
Lucifer (possessing Castiel) convinces you to have some fun before you tell Sam and Dean who’s in Cas.
Prompt: Crystal Head Vodka, “How about we make our own fun?”
Pairing: CasiferxReader, Sam and Dean appearances
Warnings: SMUT, dom!Casifer, drinking (obviously), bondage, Grace use, breath play, all the dirty and dangerous thoughts
Word Count: 1500+
Note: Written for @winchester-writes ‘s birthday! Happy birthday, chica!
The second you laid eyes on him, you knew he wasn’t Cas. But he silenced your cry for help in a second without even lifting a finger.
He chose this. Don’t make a big fuss and get him in trouble.
Lucifer. You shot daggers at him, receiving a wink in return.
That didn’t take long. Wait till the Winchesters leave, then we can talk.
He released your vocal chords. Sam looked at you funny when you let out a short gasp. You fidgeted nervously as the guys talked with Not-Cas.
“Hey Y/N, you want some pizza? Ordering or picking up?” Sam asked, pulling you back into the conversation.
You swallowed, your voice suddenly feeling constricted. You looked at Cas, but he shook his head. This was all you. “Italian Oven doesn’t deliver, so I guess you guys are going to pick it up,” you stammered out.
Dean groaned. “That’s clear on the other side of town.”
“But they have the best pizza.” Dean nodded in agreement. “You guys get the pizza, no onions, and I’ll hold down the fort.”
Dean looked between you and Cas. “Should we take the long way around so you and your boyfriend can catch up?” You shooed him away, ignoring the knowing grin on his face. It had only been a few months, but you could make Cas loud. The boys were gone a few minutes later, leaving you and Not-Cas standing on opposite ends of the library. He wandered over to Dean’s cocktail cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Crystal Head Vodka. He held it in front of his face, smiling too brightly, to wide, too sure.
“Now how about we make our own fun?” He pulled out two glasses and poured from the skull. With a whisk of air, he was suddenly in front of you holding out the drink. You backed away from him, only to land on your bed. “This is what you and Cassy do after a hunt, right? Drink, get wasted… aren’t you a little young for that?”
“Not as of a few days ago. We were supposed to go out somewhere.”
“Trust me, sweetheart, he was planning on staying in and then having…” he cocked his head and walked to your nightstand at sat the glasses down. He pulled out the rope you kept in the drawer. “Kinky. Never thought you had a dom in you, Cassy.”
“You might want to check those memories again, Lucifer. Those ropes aren’t for me.” You suppressed a giggle as he twisted his head and came back with a face of mock shock. You stood to go back to the library. “Now if we could please go back to the matter at hand.” You stopped as the door swung shut.
“We can discuss it in here.” He sat down on your bed and fiddled with the rope before tossing it to you. “And give the boys an earful if they get back early.”
“You’re not suggesting…”
“Why not? How much vodka will you need to…”
“What? Consider it? More than we’ve got, or could ever get.”
“Now you’re just being unreasonable.”
“We are in here to discuss Cas, not your thousand year boner.”
Lucifer threw Cas’s head back with a laugh. “He said you would be a firecracker. Come on, Y/N. You’ve probably decked these out to hold down serious angel power. If you don’t get enough out of the evening, then I’ll be tied up enough for the Winchesters when they get back. Deal?”
You eyed him nervously. The ropes were powered up, but would it be enough to hold an archangel? With a sigh, you reached past him and took one of the glasses. He snickered and matched your movements to throw back the shot. It didn’t take long for you to become delightfully buzzed. The black rope shimmered with silvery-blue sigils as you wrapped one around his wrist. His eyes glowed red instead of blue, reminding you who you were dealing with. He pulled away from the rope with a growl and stood.
“He doesn’t kiss you breathless or something? Pin you to the wall till you almost fall over?”
“Remember who’s the dom in the relationship.”
He growled again, then tugged the rope hard enough to pull you to his chest. He pinned your arms behind you, licking his lips as he looked down at your accusatory glare.
“Are you sure you don’t want to try something new?”
It felt different, not having the power. But that wasn’t the plan… Any inhibition to fight melted away as he sunk to suck at your neck. He moaned with Cas’s voice as he worked his way to your sweet spot. You whimpered as he pulled away just before he reached it.
“Do you want to stop?”
The glint in his eyes was so different from Cas. And it ignited a flame within that you didn’t know you had.
“No.”
A grin broke across his face, cruel and pleasured. You knew this was going to be unlike anything you’d ever experienced.
“You’re right about that, sweetheart. Now,” he turned you away to bend you over the bed and tied your wrist together, “let’s pull out your submissive side.” With a snap, he had goosebumps breaking across your skin. His skin pressed up against you, cool and surprising. He chuckled, pressing the hard length to your backside. “Dad must have really liked you, Jimmy. Lucky Y/N.”
You pushed back, wiggling and pressing your thighs together in anticipation. He kicked your legs opened, spreading you out before reaching down to your folds. His chest rumbled as he found the slick there. With agonising slowness he stroked you, occasionally pulling high enough to flick against your clit. He kissed between your shoulder blades and added another finger, pumping you to a slow, intense build. He blew cold air on your skin, distracting you from soaring too high. You groaned but worked your hips till your ass cheeks were wrapped around his cock. As you arched your back with pleasure, you moved up and down.
“That’s a neat trick,” Lucifer panted. He flipped you onto your back and spread your legs again till your toes barely touched the floor. “But are you ready for us?” He teased the head at your entrance, making you gasp. “Yes or no, Y/N?”
“Yes.”
There was a moment of stillness, then he began to sink into you, pushing and pulling to open you more. Though your vision fluttered, his was focused on you, grinning harshly as you mewled and quaked around him. With a grunt, he sheathed completely in you. You cried out and continued to do so as he set a controlled pace. The rope on your wrists loosened till it slithered away, replaced by warm tendrils that pulsed like they were alive. They pulled your arms to your sides then up around the back of his neck. You curled your fingers in the short hairs at the base of his neck, tugging lightly like you knew how Cas liked it.
But this wasn’t Cas.
You remembered that as another tendril crawled across your body and wrapped itself around your throat.
Are you okay with this?
You’d always wanted to try it, but never thought you had the right partner to ask.
Answer? He loosened the grip and started to pull away, but you let out a jumble of sounds.
Please, don’t stop.
His pace shuddered, then began anew. Faster. Harder. He twisted and angled till he found the spot that made you silent and boneless, pushing you both up to the middle of your bed. You gasped, sucking in the air allowed to you. You were close. And from the feel of Lucifer’s pace, so was he.
Do you know how beautiful you look, Y/N? Quivering under me. Around me. Your hair spread out and your face shimmering with pleasure. The way I can feel your heart thundering in your chest, how our bodies slide against one another. I’m sure you can feel how you’re affecting me. Now open your eyes, watch me as I watch you come.
“Come Y/N.”
He released the grace around your throat, filling your lungs with oxygen. Another tendril pressed down on your clit, circling it fiercely. You tumbled over the edge with a weak cry, a poor sign of the blaze erupting inside you. He slammed into you twice, three more times, then coated your walls with cum.
The grace holding your wrists slid away. You reached around his chest to pull him close, spooning him as he laid down beside you. His chest rose and fell against your face, still cool to the touch. He pushed a strand of hair off your face as you closed your eyes.
They snapped back open as you heard the front door slam shut and Dean shout to announce the pizza. With a jolt, you remembered that the plan was to have Lucifer tied up before they got home.
“The deal’s still on the table.” He broke your train of thought, or read it. “If you were unsatisfied with your care, then the ropes are right there.” He nodded at them tied in a neat bow on the headboard.
If you were quick maybe you could make it. He twitched the grace still resting on your clit, pulling out a moan from your sensitivity. He hummed at you, knowing you were lost completely to him.
Note: Sorry this got out a little later than usual. If you can believe it, even this isn’t the climax to everything. Let me know how you like it by commenting, reblogging, and liking my fic. I hope you guys enjoy it!
Dean was buttoning up his shirt when Sam burst in.
“Jeez, Sam, can’t you…”
“Uriel’s goons are coming down the hallway.”
Dean and Bobby shared a glance. “Bobby, take Sam and get to the ring; don’t let him out of your sight. They won’t hurt him before, they might try afterward. Sam, watch Bobby’s back while he watches yours and get out of here. They don’t need to see you warning me.”
Sam nodded and waited for Bobby by the door, keeping an eye on the hall.
Bobby clapped Dean on the shoulder, “Be careful, boy. Get out to the crowd if you can.” He and Sam left.
Dean finished his tie. He wasn’t going to rush. Maybe a little. He grabbed his hat and coat and almost made it to the arena entrance before they caught up to him, one running up behind him and two blocking his path.
“Come on, Winchester,” the back one said, poking something hard into Dean’s spine.
“I hope that’s a gun you’re packing back there,” Dean grumbled.
“No,” one of the front guys said pulling out his own pistol, “he’s just happy to see you.”
From her seat on the second row, Y/N twiddled her thumbs and bounced her knee waiting for Dean. He’d won, like what was agreed. Dean wondered on their way over if Cole was going to fight for real to go to the finals himself.
“You’re making me nervous, Y/N,” Cas chuckled.
“Oops. Why isn’t he back yet?”
“It takes a while to shift into civilian clothes. There’s a lot of cleaning to get the ring stench off.”
She sighed. “I’ll appreciate it… when he gets here.” She didn’t stop twiddling and bouncing.
Uriel pulled Dean into Raphael’s office, pistol whipping him to the floor. “You’re done breaking contract, Winchester.”
Dean rubbed his jaw and stood to his feet. “You said the win was mine, that Cole would take a dive. If anyone’s broken their word, it’s you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Dean,” Raphael growled from his desk, “you have been nothing but disrespectful. Uriel told me what happened this morning. Yes, you took your win fair and square, but you can’t leave the ring without paying your dues. Since Cole didn’t finish taking it out of your hide, our visitor is going to take it out of Sam’s.”
Uriel had the gun pinned to Dean’s ribs before he could launch forward. “You want me to pay? Then let Cole finish it out back. Sam stopped being part of the deal…ugh.” Uriel jabbed the muzzle further into Dean’s side.
“Just shuddup and watch. We’ve even got a perfect seat for you.” He shoved Dean towards a bar stool set up by the window. Dean looked down over the crowd and into the ring. Bobby was double checking Sam’s gloves. Dean took a split second to find Y/N and Cas, letting out a relieved breath to see her safe. Uriel forced Dean to sit down, then laughed, “enjoy the fight.”
The final people rushed to their seats as the announcer stepped into the ring.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our stadium’s trumpeter will play our National Anthem.”
Everyone in the stadium stood. Dean shot a look at Uriel as he stood too, but he didn’t turn his attention to the flag. He was too busy boring a hole into Castiel’s head, hoping that somehow he could get his attention.
As the Anthem finished with applause and whistles, Castiel looked up towards the office, growling to see Uriel backlit, and hovering over Dean’s shoulder in the window. He caught Bobby’s eye and directed him towards Dean, then turned to Y/N. “I don’t know how much of this you know, but Dean’s not going to sit with us.” He nodded up to the office, making Y/N gasp. Cas barely caught her in time to help her into her seat as her knees buckled. “They won’t kill him, he’s got to attend finals. They can still make money off him, but be ready to run just in case.”
The announcer spoke into the mic, “the officials appointed by the State Athletic Commission are: the attending physician attending at the ringside, Dr. J.D. Houston, the timer at the bell, Bill Stapleton, counting after knockdown, Bill Doty, the judges, Mike McAddams, and Captain A.R. Dowdy, and the referee, Balthazar Smith. The contestants: 10 rounds at 158 from Kansas, wearing white trunks with a black tracer, and weighing 183, Sam Winchester, the defending Cruiserweight Champion. And his opponent,” the announcer pulled a card out of his pocket and began to read, “from St. Louis, Missouri, weighing 182 and one-half, and wearing black and red trunks, Virgil Akins. Referee Balthazar Smith will now give the contestants their instructions.”
Balthazar stepped to the middle and ushered Sam and Virgil forward. He looked anxiously between them. He laid out the rules like he always did, but somehow the words “I want a clean fight” meant more. “Now go to your opposite corners, and at the bell come out fighting.”
The bell rang and the radio reporter in front of Y/N and Cas launched into action. “This is the opening round, and this is the chance of the spectators, as well as the fighters, to study style. This is a brilliant audience on hand, half of Chicago must be crowded into the space, and the other half listening at home. Movie stars, politicians, and of course the fans all squeezed into the hall here. They’re all watching Virgil Akins use his unique jumping-jack style. Referee Smith cautions him for a kidney punch Akins lands on “Law Breaker” Winchester. He shows no fear of Winchester; in fact, he’s bullying him around the ring to say ‘I’m the boss in here.’ They are matched nearly pound for pound, and looking like one of the greatest fights this ring as ever seen.”
Sam was taller than Akins, giving the smaller man plenty of space to hit him. Y/N couldn’t help but see how the smaller man used it. She could feel Cas’s nervousness, and she could see Dean watching them from the office.
“Akins landing punches like he’s the boss and he knows it. Winchester biding his time, learning his opponent. Beautiful long left by Akin. But he’s doing the most damage while in Winchester’s clinches. Winchester digging for the body, trying to lower that guard as he towers over Akins who carries his gloves high. Protects his chin well. Glancing right off the cheekbone of Sam Winchester. There might be blood early, folks.”
Dean tensed as Sam staggered back, stunned. He kept the smile to himself as his brother then dove back in. Every second he was watching Sam, he was hyper aware of the firearm in his back.
“Winchester digging with light left jabs. Akins using an up and down elevator style, now each pushing leather gloves into each other’s faces in the clinch. Beautiful right and a left hook, making Winchester coming back on his heels then; that was a stiff punch. Those thumps are the punches in close that Winchester had a great deal of trouble smothering. A champion, Winchester, but up against a very unorthodox boxer. And that’s the bell ending the first round.”
They sat in their opposite corners. Sam showed Bobby his mouth. It wasn’t gushing yet, but Bobby and Cas knew it could become a problem. Cas explained how it could possibly even choke him around the mouth guard if it got too bad.
Y/N watched Virgil sit in his corner and noticed him glance up to the office behind Sam. Virgil shrugged at something his coach said and stood up, sending up a quick prayer as the next bell rang.
“Akins relaxed in his corner, whether it’s phycological warfare or not, we don’t know. But he’s acting like this is just another outing. He doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s crossed himself as the gong sounds and comes out ready for round two. Winchester has suffered some cuts inside his mouth. He keeps circling clockwise around Akins’s best punch and his stiffest hand. The one that does the most damage is the left as Winchester staggers back again. Winchester is angry now, nearly puffing smoke like a bull ready to charge. Winchester, maneuvering to land his combination punches, steps back but Akins moves in swiftly. Gives him no chance to take a step.
“Come on, Sam,” Dean mumbled. “I know we’ve worked on this.”
Uriel chuckled behind him.
“Winchester bends down in the same kind of a bob as Akins. But Winchester is mostly fighting standing up while Akins bobs up and down as a very difficult target. Akins is a natural middleweight, but he’s gained some heavy muscle to fight at the cruiserweight level. Winchester reaches out and lands on Akins’s face, snapping his head back! The crowd cheers for Winchester!
“Akins grins through his mouth guard, clearly enjoying himself. Winchester disinclined to fight too much in the clinches. Referee Smith keeps cautioning against the whipping punch over Winchester’s shoulder. A blow to the neck is a strong reason for disqualification and for being disbarred from boxing altogether. Winchester has very little success blocking that. Both men are now trying to out-feint each other. Winchester keeps reaching down for Akins, who backs away out of reach of the taller boxer. Akins uppercuts, but misses him by a mile. And that bell is round two.
Y/N kept her focus on Virgil. Something about him seemed off. She watched him as he shot a look towards Balthazar, who nodded back.
“Cas, something’s wrong.”
The bell rang over her worries, preventing her from sending any kind of warning to Sam.
“And here we go, round three, still at the start of this match but it’s been hot. Winchester has held his own against the bouncing Akins, and Akins is not being kept down due to the height difference. Akins is out maneuvering him at every turn. Of course, what he has is a good punch in either hand and a lot of strength in those clinches. Akins really pounds Winchester with that left hook; you can see Winchester’s back jarring from the blow.”
Y/N turned with a shout into Cas’s shoulder as Sam was knocked into the ropes. She peaked out and whispered, “come on Sam. Hold him off.”
“Winchester still in the fight, but a little feeble with that right, shoulder hurt. Akins paying no attention to Winchester’s cut mouth or shoulder pains. He has his man really studied. Akins swings in with a right lead just as Winchester was feigning with his shoulder. Winchester steadies himself on Akins’s shoulders, rolling them into the ropes. The ref separates them, but no rest. As soon as Winchester steps back to ready himself, boom, Akins moves right in on him. Winchester needs a little bit of a moment to prepare an attack, and that’s when Akins takes the moment, breaking his opponent’s flow. Winchester over stretches his stance, cinching Akins’s arms where he can, but Akin reaches up to beat him around the head. He almost hits the ref that time. Akin seems to back just out of punching range, then Boom, shoot in.”
Dean laughed as Sam’s glove made contact with Virgil’s waist, sending him jerking upwards from the force. “This guy is definably yours.”
“What makes you say that, Winchester?”
“All cheap shots and no gut. Sound familiar, Uriel?”
Uriel replied with a low growl and tightened his grip on the pistol.
Y/N was not listening to the reporter anymore but heard it all as background noise.
“Akins is remarkably hitting powerfully with each hand, favoring neither the right or left. Winchester sets himself to move around and hit with a hard right only. Now he’s moving in retreat. He hasn’t had a hard shot at Akins’s head other than one or two times so far, and it looks like Akins is going to keep it that way. And of course, Akins is not cut up or marked in any way. He keeps back just enough to make Winchester overreach, then leaps in, giving him a little pat in the ribs. Getting in the closing minutes now of the round. There’s a champion in that ring, only time will tell which man it is. Winchester still pounding away, right down to the last second. His face is bleeding, and he looks groggy already, but he’s still rapping away at the body. Oh! And down goes Referee Balthazar Smith!”
The audience and judges leapt to their feet as Balthazar went over the ropes and apron. Everyone’s view of the boxers was obscured by the person in front of them, and the front row people were craning to see Balthazar. Virgil took the moment of distraction to hit Sam in the back of the neck, then upper-cutting him to explain the fall.
Sam fell to the canvas with a thud. The counting ref swooped in and made it to ten and could have made it to thirty before Sam even groaned, but there was too much pandemonium to get him off the canvas. There’s was a deliriously happy crowd circling Virgil’s corner, already celebrating the win.
Bobby jumped into the ring and pushed everybody back as the announcer lifted Virgil’s arm high. The crowd’s cheers died down as the doctor followed him in, cracking Sam’s eyes open. The doctor shook his head and motioned for the cot to haul Sam to the hospital.
“Well that was some fighting, wasn’t it Dean?” Raphael said, relaxed in his office chair.
Dean was fuming. He stood, even as Uriel pressed the pistol to his temple. “You won’t shoot me. All those witnesses down there? And how are you going to explain why the semi-finalist is dead, no matter which way you throw it?”
Raphael nodded and motioned for Uriel to lower his gun. Uriel sneered and twisted it. “Uriel. Put it away,” Raphael commanded. When it was out of sight, Raphael poured himself another shot of bourbon. “Even with what’s unfortunately happened to Sam, you are still owed a congratulation. You’re going to the Amateur Finals, well done.”
“What’s your play, Raphael?”
“Michael Mulligan. Smart kid. Young in the face, I admit. But he’s got a fighting wisdom about him. Beat our darkest prodigal to meet you.”
“Do you ‘not own’ this one too?” Dean mocked.
Uriel piped up, “you are correct. Not even the heat knows we control that canvas, and we are going to keep it that way.”
Raphael down the last of his drink then walked to tower over Dean. “You are going to lose one last time, then retire. Make it look good and you can leave with a shred of dignity.” His voice dropped, sending an uneasy shiver down Dean’s spine. “You will throw it, Dean, or I will personally pay a visit to Sam and your girl to prove my point.” He grinned. “Now go see your brother, I think he’ll want to be seeing you.” Raphael turned away like nothing happened. Uriel stepped out of the way begrudgingly.
Dean was off like a shot.
Y/N considered her stomach to be a strong one, but when she finally caught up with Sam at the hospital, she almost fainted dead away.
“How is he?” Dean croaked, catching her as she swayed on her feet.
“Dean, you’re alright.” She embraced him, shivering against him. She met his gaze, holding his face in her hands. “He’s really beaten up, Dean. The doctor hasn’t said how bad yet.” Y/N felt her heart shudder in her chest as he closed his eyes in defeat.
“This is all my fault.”
“No, it isn’t.” Y/N surprised herself with how strong her voices sounded but kept going. “It’s not your fault. Or Sam’s fault, or anyone who is held under your bosses’ thumb. They are the ones deciding who lives and who dies. You have fought against their power and they are doing everything they can to crush you. They are afraid of you, Dean. You can’t stop now.”
“Y/N,” Dean choked, “they’ve threatened to come after you next if I don’t do what they say. I can’t keep doing this if you are at risk. I thought Sam would be able to hold his own, but they stooped lower than I ever thought possible. I can’t let them take a jab at you.”
Dean moved to walk away, but Y/N grabbed his vest.
“Don’t you walk away from me, Winchester. You need all the friends you can get right now.” She poked him in the chest, flicking it into his nose when he looked down at her. “Do you think they’ll leave me alone because you broke up with me? They may be a lot of things, but they are not stupid. I am safest with you, and Castiel, and Bobby, and Sam.” Y/N sighed and wrapped his arms around her before wrapping her arms around his waist. “You are strong with a support system. Sam knew what he was walking into, and you need people to watch your back. Don’t push us away.”
Dean chuffed and squeezed her closer. “How did you learn me so good, so quick?”
Y/N laughed into Dean’s chest. “Cas ratted on you. He’s worried you’ll do what you always do when trouble comes.”
“That jerk.” Dean rubbed his hand up and down her back. He kissed the top of her head, whispering into her hair, “thank you.”
The doctor stepped out of Sam’s room. “Mr. Winchester?”
“Yes, sir.” Dean let go of Y/N, but held onto her hand, focusing on not crushing her delicate fingers with his stress.
“Sam is going to pull through.” He gave Dean and Y/N a moment to let out a sigh of relief before continuing. “We’ll need to keep him her for a while, and we won’t know the full damage till some of tonight’s boxing wounds heal, but I really think he’s going to be alright. If I could confide in you, though,” he looked passingly at Y/N. Dean nodded for him to go on. “It is of my personal, and professional opinion that this man’s injuries were not caused by an upper cutting punch. If you have anyone you can trust, I have enough evidence to prosecute his opponent.”
Dean thought for a second. “Thank you, doctor. I’ll keep that in mind and in my pocket. Thank you.” The pair watched the doctor as he left.
“You’re going to try, right?” Y/N asked.
“No. Not yet. It’s enough for Virgil, not for the top level.” Dean looked at her, taking in how her focus listed to one side. “No. Y/N you can’t go to the police. Not yet. You promised.”
“And your boss promised you’d win with no ramifications too,” she snarked. “Fine. I won’t go. But the second we have something I’m the voice. You guys are too close. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Bobby peaked his head out of the room. “Dean, he coming too.”
For a split second, Dean held back. Then he stepped forward, Y/N at his side.
Y/N’s past hunts her down, and she finds out some of Dean’s secrets as well. Dean has to choose whether to fall or to fight.
Characters: Reader (Y/N), Boss Mr. Shurley, former ex, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Uriel, Cole Trenton, Raphael, Virgil, Castiel
Warnings: Boxing violence, abuse mention
Word Count: 3500+
Notes: I’m sorry I couldn’t finish the series in time for the Supernatural Fic Apocalypse, but I hope you like it and will look for it in the next few weeks. Tag lists, requests, and feedback comments are open. Enjoy!
Y/N aligned her pens and pencils for the day. It didn’t wasn’t much, but being a secretary paid the bills well enough. She pulled the weekend cover off the typewriter and ran her fingers over the keys. One day she would buy one for herself; then she could create magic.
Mr. Chuck Shurley waved at her as he entered his office. He hung his hat on the doorknob, a sign he didn’t want to be disturbed, and Y/N heard the door click as he locked it. She assumed it meant he had several submissions to look over. Being the boss of a small publication company meant he had final say over what they published. Y/N hoped that being secretary would help her out when she wrote her first piece.
Y/N, deep in thought over that dream, didn’t pay much attention to the suited man who walked up to her desk, hat in hand.
“Excuse me miss, does Y/N Y/L/N work here?”
His voice made her blood run cold. Y/N looked up and almost screamed. He was smartly dressed, but she knew what lived underneath. She reached for the button that would call security, but…
“Please don’t. I’m in, I’m out, I’m gone. Just hear me out.”
Her heart thundered in her chest as her finger hovered over her salvation. He walked around and took that hand in his. Y/N gasped in defeat. Maybe she could scream?
“When you left… I thought I would die. I got drunk every night till my mind cleared. It’s all my fault; I hurt you. I shouldn’t have.” He sank to one knee, “can you… will you forgive me?” The crouch pulled back his coat to reveal a vest holster. Words died on her lips. He chuckled nervously, “say something. Anything.” He let go of her hand to pull his jacket over the holster.
She took her chance. And pushed the security button. Mr. Shurley yanked his door open as your ex stood and pulled back his hand. Mr. Shurley saw you flinch and pushed him out of the way. She leapt to her feet and stood behind Mr. Shurley. ‘He’s got a gun,” She whispered as the guards ran in. They took him by the arms and led him out.
“I’m sorry, Y/N! Bitch! I said I was sorry!” His crying and cursing faded away, leaving Y/N shivering against the wall.
When Mr. Shurley turned, she burst into tears. “I’m sorry, sir. I thought I was far enough away. I didn’t mean to put anyone in danger. I…”
“It’s alright, Y/N. Is there anyone you can call to take you home? Preferably a man?”
“No… yes.”
“Hey, Winchester, some girl’s calling for you.”
Dean nearly ran to the training gym’s receiver, grinning through the whistling from the other guys. “Y/N. What I can I do for you?”
His face fell as he heard her broken voice on the other line. “Dean, can you come get me from work?”
“What’s wrong? I can be there in…”
“Winchester!” Uriel called out, motioning him to come to the ring.
Dean cursed under his breath. “I can send my brother. You know Sam, right? Will he be an okay second till I can get there?” Dean waited with baited breath till she answered.
“Yes.”
“I’ll send him your way and come as soon as I can get away. I promise.” Dean got her work and home address and sent Sam with a cab. He walked to the ring and said to Uriel, “say it quick. I’ve gotta leave.”
“Don’t rush me; We’ve got important matters to discuss.”
“Yeah, I know. Do what you say and everything will be peaches. I got that.” Dean stepped to walk away, but Uriel grabbed him by the collar. He spun him around to the row of seats surrounding the practice ring.
“Have a seat. There’s more to it.” He leaned against the apron, towering over seated Dean. “Raphael seems to be under the impression that you will follow orders better in the future if we give you this win.”
“Fantastic. Can I go now?”
“No. Cole, on the other hand, wants to beat you fair and square. While I am inclined to agree with him, there is a bit of a time constraint considering your fight is the undercard to Sam’s. So he’ll go down quick enough.”
“Great. I’ll be seeing you…” Dean tried to stand, but Uriel forced him back into the chair. Dean snarled, arms tensed and ready to share a few blows. From the corners of his eyes, he saw the other fighters in the gym look away.
Uriel chuckled and patted Dean’s shoulder. “Don’t think we don’t know where you’re running off to. We saw that sweet little miss you ran to the night this all went sideways. Your Sophie[1] can wait a few minutes. If you don’t think so, I can talk on the way over and explain personally why you’re late.”
“She doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t need to know.” Dean pushed Uriel’s hand off his shoulder, “and I am not just going to sit here while you threaten her. I’ll do your bidding, for Sam, but you’ll leave her out of this.” He turned and stalked away, grabbing his leather jacket off the hook next to the door.
“If you walk out that door now, Winchester, your career here or in any other boxing circle is finished.”
Dean looked over his shoulder at Uriel’s fuming face. “Then I guess after Cole’s rematch I’m done.” He slammed the door behind him.
Uriel punched the corner of the ring, making the rope post splinter around the edge. He scanned around, then found him. “Trenton! Get over here; we need to talk.”
“Thank you for bringing me home,” Y/N said from the couch. Jo and Claire were out at their own jobs, so Sam had taken it upon himself to make coffee. He brought her a cup, which she nearly dropped from her shaking hands. He took it back and sat it on the end table before sitting next to her.
“You’re going to be alright. Dean’s not going to let that creep anywhere near you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s hunting down that bast-… the guy right now.” He glanced at his watch again, wondering what Uriel was holding him for.
“Why do you look worried?” Y/N asked with a nervous chuckle. “My ex is the one in danger.”
Sam shook his watch back under his sleeve. “Nothing. The boss was talking to him, and it didn’t look good.” Sam coughed, “not that you need to think about it too much. Probably a pep talk that couldn’t happen any later.” He handed her back the coffee mug, relieved it didn’t shake as much.
Y/N was thinking too hard for her hands to shake. Connections broke past her terrifying memories. “Are the fights rigged?” she blurted out.
Sam almost fell off the couch. “What? Why would you think that?”
“The guy at the dinner. He said the fights were faked.” Y/N nibbled her bottom lip. She handed the forgotten coffee back to Sam. In the contest, Dean was almost counted out, then he looked at her. She remembered the way his eyes gleamed, she thought in defiance of defeat. Maybe there was more to it. “Was he supposed to lose the fight I met him at?” She looked up at Sam when he didn’t answer. He tried to stand up, but she placed her hand on his thigh, freezing him in place. “Tell me the truth. Is it rigged?”
The front door clicked shut as Dean walked in. “Is what rigged?” He glanced at Sam, who was staring into the coffee mug. “You told her?” Dean shouted.
“I didn’t say anything!”
Y/N stood and walked over to Dean. At first, he looked down at her in shock, then glanced away before grabbing the door knob to leave.
“No. You’re not going anywhere till you tell me what’s going on.”
“Y/N…”
“Is this what you couldn’t tell me at the dinner?”
Dean met her gaze. His eyes darted between hers. With a sigh, he took off his hat and coat. “This is going to take a while.”
Y/N had no idea there was such thing as a family business in boxing. When their Dad died, the ring they owned would have gone under had it not been for Raphael. But he changed things. Everything. The easy thing about bribing the boys was he could always threaten to hurt the other if they stepped out of line.
“That’s why I don’t want to get you involved. I didn’t want to put you in danger.”
“I’m already in danger! But I would much rather have you on my side than have to battle anyone alone.”
Dean growled, “did they threaten you already? Is that why you called me?” He stood up and paced around the room. “That son of a… I’m going to rip his throat out.”
“No. It was my ex.”
Dean stopped. “The one you told me about?”
She nodded and told him about her morning. She couldn’t say his name. It withered and evaporated before it could reach her lips, frightened to summon the ghost into reality. Then the rest of her story spilled out. She told it like it was a common thing. Small town, no chance of escape. He was the better of the prospects. But the local bar made good money off men like him. The town rebuilt the police station next to it for easy access, it was so popular with guys quick to their fists. Y/N wasn’t sure how many people took the fights home with them. They’d been engaged. He almost lived in her parent’s house, but just short of paying rent. Their attic always seemed to smell of cheap whiskey. She left after just one episode, penniless and only possessing the clothes on her back, refusing to live in a place where denying to buy him a refill made him… she didn’t, couldn’t finish.
“I’m gonna rip his throat out too.”
“Please don’t do that. He’s just a leech of a bum who happens to own a handgun. You’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
Dean sighed and sat back down. “Sounds like equal Jonah swallowers to me.” He sat in silence for a moment. “So that’s where your ‘don’t be a polite doormat’ worldview comes from. I wish I had your strength to fight my demons.”
“You do,” Sam said. “I’ve seen how you’ve undermined them for years. You’ve got the chin to fight them.” He spoke over Dean’s protests, “don’t worry about me. They won’t touch me before the fight, and afterwards, I’ll be with you and Bobby. Then we can both leave.”
“What about during the fight?” Y/N asked. “Does Raphael control him too?”
“No, my opponent is from the other side of town. Virgil-something. Bobby did a little digging to check that, said all he found out was the guy had weapons for fists.”
Dean sniggered, “wait till he meets your armory.” He was smiling again. He wrapped Y/N’s fingers in his own and kissed her hand. “Do you think we can do this?”
“Yes. But why don’t we call the cops?”
“They probably already know,” Sam snorted. “They’ve got as much of a hold on the underworld as Raphael has in the local boxing. Besides, we’d go to jail and get stuck with Uriel’s cronies.”
“We wouldn’t last the night,” Dean mumbled. “You can’t go to the heat, Y/N. They’d nab us all, whether we’ve been blackmailed or not. Promise me you won’t go to the police.”
“I promise.”
Sam checked his watch. “We’d better get going if we want to be on time for call.”
“I’m just the undercard, so I’m going to stay a minute and come over with Y/N.” Dean looked at her, “if that’s alright?”
“Yes. It won’t take me but a minute to get ready.” Y/N stood and walked Sam to the door. When he was gone, Dean was there to kiss her. At first it surprised her, but the way his lips matched hers tilt for tilt, they felt like puzzle pieces completing one another. She gasped when Dean broke away suddenly.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“Dean, it’s okay.” Y/N tried not to blush, but her breath wasn’t coming out right. It staggered and spun till she could gather her thoughts. “Does that make this next evening date number two?” she asked with a giggle.
Dean grinned, “hell yes.”
When they got to the ring, it was already packed. Dean introduced her to Castiel, close friends since before and after his last big fight with Bartholomew. “He’s your bodyguard till I get back.”
“Fine,” Y/N huffed, “but give Trenton an extra uppercut from me, okay?” Dean chuckled and kissed her cheek before leaving. There were a few small fights, Y/N realized she was sitting behind the same radio host as before, then the arena went silent as Dean and Cole walked to the ring. The announcer did his thing and jazzed up Sam’s top billing fight to follow. The crowd roared as the first bell rang.
“Winchester starts this first round, as he does every round, with a series of jabs,” the radio man said. “Trenton sets a pattern too. Weaving, crouching, trying to get under. The third man in the ring is our referee Balthazar Smith. The opponents stay in the middle, spinning the center to stay focused and close. They’re going at it now. Trenton is jabbing quick, but Winchester gives him a few solid blows to the head. And that’s the bell, ladies and gentlemen. Round one is at a close.”
Y/N and Castiel cheered with the rest of the crowd. Trenton had a few fans, but Dean had several more. Y/N watched the judges almost as much as she watched the fight and liked how they nodded when Dean landed a hit. The bell rang to start the next round.
“They start up again, moving faster at one another. Much different than the slow build of last round. Already you can sense what a perfect match this is. These two men are masters at their trade, but only one will move… and Winchester lands a blow to Trenton’s stomach! Trenton staggers back but launches himself at Winchester. He gets in a few hits… but now Winchester gives him the one-two. Winchester’s got the speed in him tonight. Trenton is stunned. Winchester stinging in those jabs, Trenton trying to get in close with those wicked hooks. The referee has to separate them as the bell rings.”
Dean was looking ragged by round eight. Cole wasn’t falling like Uriel had said. From their corners, Dean shot Cole a look. Cole nodded back, confirming Dean’s thoughts. Dean nodded at Bobby, who was fixing his eyebrow, still open from their first bout. Dean sighed and stood as the bell rang.
“Rolling into round nine, the audience feels like they’re ready for an explosion. They meet quick. Both men dishing it out and still staying in there, though a quick series of hits could make the bout. Oh! Did you hear that thump? That was a Winchester glove colliding with Trenton’s ribs. Winchester still has that patch over his eye, but he’s still forcing the fight, although just a little bit slower. And Trenton watching like a hawk, always looking for that split second of an opening, always eager to unload his combinations.”
Y/N flinched with each hit. They were harder now and audible above the din of the audience. Even Castiel’s brow was knit with worry.
“Trenton upper cutting Winchester, sending him to retreat along the ropes. Trenton lands one to Winchester’s face. That can’t feel good on his patch. Winchester pulls him close, cinching Trenton’s arms. But they’re still able to reach up to hit him in the back of the head. They are separated with much struggle from the ref. Trenton chases Winchester around the ring, jabbing an upper cutting. Winchester blocks his face and sends out jabs that land on Trenton.”
“Round eleven, thirty minutes of actual fighting have gone by. Neither man has really taken over, but this could be the fiercest of them all. They’re starting out close and hard, ladies and gentlemen, and it doesn’t look like they’re going to let up. Winchester twists under Trenton’s punch, then pulls up to land on Trenton’s face. Winchester uppercuts, but misses him by a mile. Trenton pulls in close, one-two into Winchester’s chest with a little bit of elbow into his cheek. Ref and judges on the wrong side of the ring to see it. Now you can hear the audience as Winchester starts raining down on Trenton. This is what they’ve been waiting for. Trenton fights back, but the blows keep coming. Trenton gets Winchester on the ropes, thirty seconds left in the round. He uses them to land body blows, but Winchester pushes him back, cinching Trenton’s arms again. They’re both haymaking as the bell rings.”
“Round number twelve, and again those opening jabs by Winchester. “Raisin’ Cain” just a little bit slower, but he’s shaking off that battering he took in the previous rounds. Trenton, weaving, crouching, always aggressive. He’s loaded with confidence after that last round. But Winchester is showing his dynamite. One, two, three jabs to Trenton, snapping his head back with each. Winchester’s stance spread out as Trenton backs away from another combination. If you can hear that static, ladies and gentlemen, that’s the full audience spurring on their favorite. Trenton tries to bob down, but Winchester’s uppercut is waiting for him. Even with the patching, Winchester’s red is flowing; I can smell the iron from here.”
Dean’s lips looked more swollen than they were stretched over his mouth guard, but his hurt eye was starting to close. His left arm hung lower, giving him less protection.
“Here we go for the final round. Through it all Trenton and Winchester have dueled like champions. With just three minutes left, Trenton is still the aggressor. Winchester, who’s probably thinking he’s never had it rougher, is gamely hanging on, mouth open, jabbing all the time and tying Trenton up in the clinches. Winchester dances Trenton over to the ropes, his restraints looking more like support as Trenton leans on him. It’s been a rough night for him too. They back away from each other before the ref has to separate them. Their arms reach out at the same time, while they receive a punch like the one their dishing out. Trenton keeps trying to bob below Winchester’s hits but keeps finding uppercuts before being beaten down by roundhouses. Thirty seconds to go. Winchester cinches Trenton, but Trenton keeps catching him in the ribs. There’s the bell, and the big fight is over. Both Cole Trenton and Dean Winchester deserve tremendous credit. But now it’s up to the judges appointed by the Chicago City Commission. Here’s announcer Johnny Addie with their decision.”
The announcer stepped into the center, dragging the mic chord behind him. He flipped through the judges’ cards, then pulled the mic to his mouth.
“Judge Aidie Idella scores it nine five one even, Trenton. Referee Al Burr scores it nine two six, Winchester.”
The crowd booed. Y/N couldn’t tell if it was for or against Dean.
“The other judge, Bill Wrecked, scores it eight six one even, the winner and official semi-finalist of the Light Heavyweight of Chicago, Dean Winchester.” The announcer lifted Dean’s arm above his head as the crowd cheered. The announcer marked the place and time for the final match, then led Dean out of the ring. He and Bobby went to the back to change out so he could watch Sam’s fight.
Uriel got up from his seat in the third row behind the judges and motioned for the ref to follow him. They ended up in Raphael’s office, where he was entertaining a visitor with the best view of the ring, and his aged drinks.
Raphael didn’t turn from the window but addressed the men as they entered. “Uriel, you haven’t met him yet, but this is Virgil Akins. He’s put on a lot of weight to fight Sam tonight, make sure it’s memorable to all the right people. And Balthazar,” he turned and faced him, “don’t screw this up with a bad call.”
“Yes, sir.”
Balthazar Smith kept a strong face, but Uriel smiled to see him wipe his hands on his pants. Uriel led him and Virgil out into the hallway, cornering them to one side. He shook Virgil’s hand.
“Dean Winchester has already said he’s finished. We’ll invite him nicely to the box to watch his brother’s fight, then you can have him. He’ll think it’s a real fight, so hold nothing back. You know how to end it. Balthazar, when Virgil uses his rabbit punch, make sure you’re looking the other way, and do something to make sure the judges are looking away too.”
“But sir, those punches can kill.”
“I know. There’s no way Dean did this without talking to his brother, so Sam’s in on it. Don’t worry too much about it. Virgil’s got it handled. Understand?”
Balthazar moved to give a retort but swallowed it. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now get out there before anyone misses you. Soon the Winchesters will be finished.”
Lucifer makes a deal with Castiel and the Reader that will please everybody. But it’s up to the reader to accept.
Pairing: Casifer x reader
Warnings: restraint, gagging (kind of), oral (female receiving), breath play
Word Count: 1195
Note: I’ve never felt so dirty writing in public before. Happy Supernatural Smut Appreciation Day.
“Y/N.”
With one fluid motion, you had your back against the wall and your gun pointed at Cas’s chest.
You lowered it with a sigh. “Cas. We’ve talked about this. I know that a bullet won’t hurt you, but I would prefer not to shoot you either. You need to knock instead of just barging into my bedroom.”
“There wasn’t time. Y/N,” he slumped against the closed door, “I need to… tell you…” You rushed to catch him as he slid to the floor. The color was draining from his face and he had broken out into a cold sweat.
“We need to call the boys,” you started. Before you could shout, Cas had his hand over your mouth. With a flutter of wings, he pinned you to the bed. He held your wrists above you with one hand while the other continued to cover your mouth. There was a gleam in his eyes that you’d seen before, but not in him. Sam had it for a while. You gasped and struggled under his grip as you realized.
Lucifer.
His voice was higher than Cas’s. Playful. “You’ve always been the smart one, Y/N. I’ve been with the boys all morning and they haven’t noticed a thing.” Castiel’s face grinned at you, but with a darkness. “Then he actually pushed me out of the way for a bit. You are very important to him.” He twisted his head and shuddered, “easy Cassie. Don’t fight too much. Not when I’ve got your girl in such a compromising position.”
Your blood ran cold. What do you want, Lucifer?
“I want you to keep this a secret from the Winchesters. They are searching for something I need, but they’ll stop once they know I’m not Castiel.”
You glared at him, refusing to believe it was that simple.
“How about I up the ante? I’ll give you the thing you want most; you won’t even have to beg for it. Unless that’s your kink.”
How could he see that? You’d buried it long ago.
“I know you’ve been longing for it. And guess what? Castiel wants it too.”
For a split second Castiel broke through with a look that was so him. Ashamed, but questioning.
So, you’re going to buy my silence with sex?
He leaned forward till you could feel his breath next to your ear, “I guess I am.”
Y/N gets dragged to a boxing match by her friends where she meets Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester. When asked out on a date, she says she’ll only go if he wins. Which is a serious problem.
Pairing: Boxer!Dean x Reader
Warnings: violence in the form of boxing
Word Count: 3100+
Note: I’m not a boxing expert, but I have watched a lot of fights from the greats to make this series. Find any Sugar Ray Robinson fight on YouTube and use it for background music if you’d like. I certainly used some to get in the zone. Feel free to leave comments on how you like or dislike it (with reasons why you dislike it) and guess where the story is going.
The den didn’t look like much from the outside. The brick was chipping on the corners and several of the windows were boarded up. If there hadn’t been a line of patrons waiting at the door, Y/N would have thought it was abandoned.
She looked at her ticket stub again. Admit One: Winter Chicago Amateur Semi-Finals.
“Why are we here?” she asked Jo, her roommate.
“Because Claire got tickets from her friend who works concessions. She’s already inside and said to meet at the seats on the second row.” Jo spun, flaring her skirt and drawing the eye of several men standing around them.
“I feel overdressed.” Y/N looked down at her little black dress, wincing at the grand amount of tulle under the skirt. In reality, it was only a notch above what she wore around town, but she would have preferred to save this dress for a Sunday. “It’s just going to be a bunch of sweaty guys beating each other up. We could watch that any night at your mom’s bar.”
“Y/N,” Jo sighed, “try to enjoy this. The guys fighting tonight are going to look a lot better than the ones at the bar.” Jo leaned close and whispered, “and they’ll be wearing considerably less clothing.”
“Jo!”
A quick cheer resounded from the front of the line as the doors opened. Light poured out into the street, followed quickly by lively music. Barely twenty people had walked through the doors when the bet collectors were yelling the stats. Y/N and Jo showed their ticket to the bouncer and were nearly drowned in the rush to get in. They were separated, but Y/N walked over to a less populated part of the arena to catch her breath.
“You alright, sweetheart?” a voiced asked.
She turned and found herself face to chest with a man in a suit. Taking a step away, she looked up into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. He watched her with concern, but something about him made him feel dangerous. Like he could easily overpower her in more ways than one.
“Yes. Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to my seat.” She turned to walk away.
“You might want to wait a few more minutes till the crowd dies down or you’ll get swamped again.” Y/N stopped to listen. It was still crowded. “And I would take a moment to breathe. Once you’re sitting down, it’s probably not going to smell good.”
“Wonderful,” she muttered under her breath. But she stayed all the same. If the smell of sweaty men could reach her up here, then it was going to be unbearable down there.
“I’m Dean. What’s your name?” he asked, holding out a hand. She shook it with her fingertips.
“Y/N. Pleased to meet you.” She turned to watch people find their seat, reminded of the movements of ants.
“Have you ever been to a fight before?” Dean asked.
“Are you writing a book?”
He raised his hands in defense. “Just wanted to get to know you, sweetheart.”
Y/N snickered, “I hope you don’t think you’ll get anything out of it.”
“Well now that you mention it…” Y/N turned to gape at him. He was serious. If he wasn’t so big she would have thought his boyish movements would have been cute. She almost missed his question while watching his tongue dart out to wet his lips. “Did you hear me?”
“Please?”
“What are your plans after the fight?”
“As far as I can see, nothing with you.” Y/N turned to walk away, she could handle the second-row problems better than this.
“Come on, princess. Being one of the boxers should get me somewhere.”
Y/N took a deep breath. He was big enough to be a boxer but didn’t seem to fully fit the type. Not to mention he wasn’t dressed for a fight.
“I’ll tell you what. You win your fight tonight and I might meet you after the prizefight. Otherwise, forget it.”
Y/N walked away from his grinning face and into the pit. Jo and Claire didn’t have time to ask questions as the first opponents arrived at the ring. Y/N was ready to forget Dean.
“Dean! Where’ve you been, boy?” Bobby Singer grabbed Dean by the lapels and tugged him into the prep room. “You need to get dressed before Uriel gets here.” They froze as someone knocked on the door. “Balls.”
Bobby opened the door for Uriel. Dean hated his sneering face, but he was second in command for the match-fixing ring.
“Take a dive in the fifth, Winchester, and stay there. Feel free to do what you want till then as long as it doesn’t keep Cole from taking you out.”
“That’s not what we agreed, Uriel,” Bobby snarled, “Dean’s supposed to go to the big prize match in March.”
“He will. We had to add a week into the schedule so a special guest could meet you there. You’ll get a rematch next week, and then you’ll be on your way as planned.” Uriel laughed, a sound everyone found akin to nails on a chalkboard.
“You’d better not screw me. Not like you did to Cas with Bartholomew.” Dean stayed back, but his fists were tight enough to turn his knuckles white.
“Yeah, wasn’t that a bite? He made the distance till the tenth, though.” Uriel chuckled.
“It was torture,” Bobby spat.
Uriel stepped forward till he loomed over Bobby. “I wouldn’t focus on the past if I were you. Those who look back too much tend to get lost in the future.” He nodded at Dean and walked out, shouting over his shoulder, “the fifth, Winchester.”
They stood in silence, both seething. But it was the life they were in, one that they more or less chose. Sometimes they joked that God himself couldn’t stop them from deciding who lived and who died. They saved that for nights even darker than this.
“One of these days someone’s going to feed him a knuckle sandwich,” Dean growled.
Bobby nodded in agreement. “But it’s not gonna be you. And it’s not gonna be tonight. You’ve got too much riding on your family for you to rebel. It’d take the whole house of players to end this.”
“Or getting caught,” Dean mumbled.
“Bite your tongue boy! If they get caught, we get caught. And then all their attack dogs will get stuck in the same cage as us. We wouldn’t last the night.” Bobby sighed. Dean looked at him from the corner of his eyes. He was getting old, and the stress of the maintaining the fixes was taking its toll. Bobby shook himself with a grunt. “You need to change quick if you want to catch Sam before his fight.”
Dean shed his jackets while Bobby hunted out the shorts and gloves. He’d signed on to do whatever Uriel told him, but the image of the pretty girl from earlier mixed with the shame of being a fixed boxer made him question how tonight was really going to turn out.
Y/N jumped as the bell rang, ending the match. The ref announced the scores, awarding the win to the tall man with long hair. She halfway wondered how he could see his opponent.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer started, “these ring officials have been appointed by the Illinois State Boxing Commission.” He rattled off several names, she couldn’t remember if they were different from the match before, but they did look a little grimmer. “This is the feature presentation of the light heavyweight not exceeding 175 pounds. From Fort Benning, Georgia, wearing the black trunks with the white stripe and weighing 170 pounds: Cole “Avenger” Trenton.”
A quick cheer rang through the arena. The announcer waited for it to die down before continuing.
“And from Lawrence, Kansas, wearing the white trunks with the black stripes and weighing 175 pounds: Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester.”
Y/N nearly fell out of her seat. It was the man she’d met earlier. And he was the title fight! She covered her face with her hands as Dean looked around the crowd before finding her. He smiled and winked, making her blush. She hoped he was too far away to see it.
“And ladies and gentlemen here is referee Balthazar Smith with instructions for both contestants. And ladies and gentlemen, no smoking, please.”
The referee stepped up to the mike and waited for Dean and Cole to meet. Their coaches stayed close, massaging their shoulders, and probably holding them back based on the daggers they were shooting. “You boys received your instruction from the Illinois Boxing Commission. I want a clean break at all times; careful of your kidney punches and your rabbit punches. In case of a knock-down, I want you to go to your furthest corner and stay there ‘til I tell you to come out fighting. Also, in case of a knock-down, you must take an eight-count. It that understood?” Dean a Cole nodded. “Shake hands and come out fighting.”
The boxers separated and went to their respective corners. Their managers took their robes and gave them mouth guards. The row in front of the girls was filled with men from the press. Y/N had been listening to the man directly in front of her all night as he announced the fight for a small radio program. He kept using terms she didn’t always recognize, but sometimes he’d clarify for visiting listeners. She hoped Dean wouldn’t get hurt.
Bobby held Dean back as he bounced and shadow boxed. “I know you don’t want to, but do what Uriel says. Next week you’ll get the rematch, and then we’ll be onto the big time.” Dean nodded and danced towards the center as the bell rang.
“Ladies and gentlemen, that was the opening bell for this scheduled ten rounder, and Raisin’ Cain Winchester, who won the championship last year, is on his way to defend his title against a younger opponent in the semi-finals. Cole the Avenger is fighting in memory of his father, who died due to boxing injuries.”
He labeled several punches and moves as the men started to swing at one another. “Trenton, who is very effective inside, very good at body punching, and Winchester who is obviously good at long range… with that snappy left jab… and the right cross.”
Dean cinched Cole’s arms to his sides, preventing further body punches. Already they were both sweating, and Dean’s grip was slipping. The referee came over and broke them apart. They separated, but Cole chased Dean into a retreat. Dean fired out a jab, which Cole returned. They traded punches, uppercuts, and several different types of blows that Y/N had learned that night.
“That right hand to Winchester was just a trifle short. If Winchester keeps dancing around the ring like he is, he might tire before he can knock some wind out of Trenton. But there can be no doubt that both men came here tonight to fight. A short minute remaining in round one.”
To Y/N, the minute felt like ten as the men quickly exchanged blows faster than the reporter could call them. Cole landed a solid punch to Dean’s face, making him stagger back into the ropes.
“A little trickle from Winchester. Trenton is scoring repeatedly!”
The bell sounded as Dean pushed off. They ignored one another and went to their corners.
“And round one is over! Raisin’ Cain Winchester taking about as much punishment as I’ve ever seen him take in round one except for last year when Castiel Novak nearly punched him out of the ring. Winchester came back to win that fight. Novak fought and lost to Bartholomew in his next bout in a nearly murderous display. Winchester has had a total of 130 bouts, losing seven, two draws, and one technical knock-out trying to win the middleweight championship when he first started.”
The reporter continued to pass along Dean’s stats and Y/N couldn’t help but be slightly impressed. He was actually a good fighter. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to date a boxer. Not yet. There were still nine rounds to go to see if he could hold up his end of the bargain.
Rounds two, three, and four came and went with similar displays of prowess. Dean’s cut on his brow kept bleeding into his eye. Bobby kept patching it up and cleaning it the best that he could. Y/N learned that he had been a boxer back in the day, but an unsportsmanlike hit to his spine kept him out for several years. When he came back, he stuck to training others and found the Winchesters: Dean and Sam. He was a coach for both of them. Y/N wondered how his heart stayed in his chest on nights when they both fought.
“Trenton talking to Winchester constantly. And the eye of Dean Winchester is starting to smear a bit. Right on the right eyebrow.”
Cole swung out, catching Dean in the ribs, making him double over.
“Probably the best blow of the fight! Avenger Trenton overhand right swinging below to catch Winchester in the ribs.”
Dean swung wildly, missing Cole completely as he ducked. Dean backed away and tried to wipe the blood out of his eye, but missed seeing Cole’s left hook. He dropped like a stone, his head bouncing painfully against the canvas.
The world slowed down to single heartbeats. Patrons leaped to their feet like rocks in molasses. Bobby shook his head, refusing to watch. Y/N looked for his eyes, begging whoever would hear her to see the brilliant green instead of the blood over his closed lids. She gasped as they fluttered.
He found hers as well, latching onto them like a ship to a lighthouse during a storm.
The referee started to count.
One.
Two.
Three.
“To hell with this,” Dean mumbled.
Four.
He reached for a rope, using it to pull himself up. But knees don’t count. He knew he had to get to his feet.
Five.
Cole shouted at him, “stay down! Or you’ll be worse than done, Winchester.”
Six.
Dean managed to get one leg under him, but it wobbled too much to support him.
Seven.
Dean pulled again, straining against his bruised ribs to stand on his feet.
The crowd roared with delight.
“Dean Winchester was not down for the count yet, ladies and gentlemen! We’ve still got a match as long as he’s got any fight left in him.”
The bell rang, ending the fifth round. Cole looked pale and a little green around the gills. Dean nodded to him, taking the blame for the manager storm that was going to hit later.
They met again, but Cole let Dean do all the hitting, feigning exhaustion. Dean knew Cole’s fighting and his style. Cole was tired, especially now that Dean wasn’t pulling his punches.
“A slowly tiring Winchester, but Trenton slows as well. Not punching cleanly going into this round, missing. Winchester’s left hook was low, giving him a warning from ref Balthazar.”
Dean gave Cole four quick jabs to the torso, sending him stumbling into the ropes amid a chorus of cheers. He followed with three more to the head and face.
“Come on Dean! You’ve got ‘im!” Y/N screamed.
“Four clean blows into Trenton, and then three more. Winchester was hurting Trenton. He’s hurting him now. Jabs to the ribs and the face. Now a bolo. Trenton is round housing, missing Raisin’ Cain Winchester by a mile. Trenton’s left eye is swollen. Closing gradually. Damn! Pardon my language, ladies and gentlemen, Dean Winchester has spun Trenton around. He’s still standing, but blocking drunk. Ref Balthazar separates them again as Trenton leans on Winchester. Half a minute to go in the sixth round. Winchester set him up with those body blows, damaged his nose. He has Trenton on his feet asleep, holding on. The audience is standing and cheering.”
Dean kept jabbing. Cole wasn’t fighting back and he was a fellow pawn, but Dean was punching red. All those times when he had a win in the bag and Uriel told him to fall, or every time they promised him the prize fight, like tonight, but then took it away. He could hold himself up. They could take their schemes and schedules with them to hell.
“Trenton punching drunk as the bell rings, ending round six. The ringside doctor checking him out. If he doesn’t respond to the bell, the fight will be over. No! He’s up and ready to go. This is round seven, ladies and gentlemen. And Winchester is not holding back, not with the end so close.”
Y/N notices a flurry of movement to one side of the ring. The doctor is waving his arms till a large man nods. The bell rings, but Dean keeps going.
“Winchester doesn’t hear the bell. Ref Balthazar has to break them apart. But it’s too late! Down goes Trenton. The ref counts… and Dean Winchester has won by a knockout, ladies and gentlemen. For six rounds, Trenton gave better than he took. Then Winchester unleashed all of his best guns for the last round. Our score cards showing that Winchester was ahead sixty-three points to fifty-seven.”
The ref pulled Dean towards the middle as Cole’s coach and attendees pulled Cole’s body off the canvas. The announcer stepped on stage and grabbed the mic. “Attention ladies and gentlemen, the winner by knockout, in two minutes and fifteen seconds of the seventh round, and the defending winner of the Winter Chicago Amateur Semi-finals is Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester. He will face his last opponent to defend his title for another year once dates have been determined.”
He raised Dean’s arm above their heads. Y/N joined the rest of the crowd with a standing applause and cheering.
“See! You enjoyed yourself.” Jo yelled above the din.
“Yeah. I guess I did. Thanks, Claire, for the tickets.”
Claire continued cheering, stopping for a split second to gasp out, “he’s coming this way.”
Y/N looked back at the ring to see Dean pushing his way through the managers. Aiming to meet him halfway, she headed to the chaos surrounding the canvas.
Bobby was shaking Dean. “What were you thinking?”
“Nothing,” Uriel’s voice said, breaking into the circle. “He wasn’t thinking at all.”
Dean stopped his struggle to face Uriel. “You want to duke it out here?” he challenged.
Uriel shook his head with a smirk. “No. But we will discuss this Winchester. Enjoy the light… while it lasts. And get that brow checked out; we wouldn’t want it to turn into something serious.”
Dean broke away, surging through the crowd. He bumped into the person he wanted to see most.
Lucifer makes a deal with Castiel and the Reader that will please everybody. But it’s up to the reader to accept.
Pairing: Casifer x reader
Warnings: restraint, gagging (kind of), oral (female receiving), breath play
Word Count: 1195
Note: I’ve never felt so dirty writing in public before. Happy Supernatural Smut Appreciation Day.
“Y/N.”
With one fluid motion, you had your back against the wall and your gun pointed at Cas’s chest.
You lowered it with a sigh. “Cas. We’ve talked about this. I know that a bullet won’t hurt you, but I would prefer not to shoot you either. You need to knock instead of just barging into my bedroom.”
“There wasn’t time. Y/N,” he slumped against the closed door, “I need to… tell you…” You rushed to catch him as he slid to the floor. The color was draining from his face and he had broken out into a cold sweat.
“We need to call the boys,” you started. Before you could shout, Cas had his hand over your mouth. With a flutter of wings, he pinned you to the bed. He held your wrists above you with one hand while the other continued to cover your mouth. There was a gleam in his eyes that you’d seen before, but not in him. Sam had it for a while. You gasped and struggled under his grip as you realized.
Lucifer.
His voice was higher than Cas’s. Playful. “You’ve always been the smart one, Y/N. I’ve been with the boys all morning and they haven’t noticed a thing.” Castiel’s face grinned at you, but with a darkness. “Then he actually pushed me out of the way for a bit. You are very important to him.” He twisted his head and shuddered, “easy Cassie. Don’t fight too much. Not when I’ve got your girl in such a compromising position.”
Your blood ran cold. What do you want, Lucifer?
“I want you to keep this a secret from the Winchesters. They are searching for something I need, but they’ll stop once they know I’m not Castiel.”
You glared at him, refusing to believe it was that simple.
“How about I up the ante? I’ll give you the thing you want most; you won’t even have to beg for it. Unless that’s your kink.”
How could he see that? You’d buried it long ago.
“I know you’ve been longing for it. And guess what? Castiel wants it too.”
For a split second Castiel broke through with a look that was so him. Ashamed, but questioning.
So, you’re going to buy my silence with sex?
He leaned forward till you could feel his breath next to your ear, “I guess I am.”
Goosebumps broke out over your skin. You blinked and he was naked as well. Your clothes were scattered around the room as if you both had hastily stripped.
“So which fantasy do you want? The slow and sweet? Or,” he deepened his voice to match Castiel’s, “the dark and passionate?” You moaned against his hand. “Alrighty, then.”
He made a show of levitating Cas’s tie towards the bed. He removed his hand from your wrists to make room as it tied you to the decorative gap in the headboard. Lucifer removed his hand from your mouth, but you could feel his grace preventing you from speaking. He hovered over you, nose to nose, smirking. You squeezed your thighs together as those crystal blue eyes darted down to your lips. He rocked his head again and growled before licking his lips.
“Don’t worry, Cassie. We won’t hurt her… much.” He turned his focus back to you, “Cas is too shy to take what he wants, and he’d be inept at giving you what you want. So, I’m going to make sure everybody is pleased, while throwing a few things myself. Good luck figuring out which ones are which.”
Lucifer crawled backwards down the bed till his face was above your thighs. He pried your legs apart, blowing cold air till you shivered. Tendrils of grace swirled up your body. They stopped at your nipples, twisting them and sucking as you arched. Lucifer hummed into your heat before licking a thick stripe. He laughed as you gasped and twisted under his ministrations.
“You like that sweetheart? This might be the best night of your life.”
He parted your lips with his tongue, thrusting deeply. Cas’s tongue morphed into Lucifer’s fork, which he used to scissor you open. It was an odd sensation, but not uncomfortable. Another tendril of grace snaked around your hips to your clit. It gently touched the tip, just enough to let you know it was there. Lucifer held you down from bucking up to him. His thumbs swirled circles into your hip bones. You wined behind the grace.
The grace covering your mouth slid away. He stared up at you between your breasts, daring you. “Please let me come.”
He darted his tongue into you deeper than what should have been possible. The tendril above your clit sucked down, sending you flying into bliss. Lucifer gently sucked up your juices, careful of your sensitivity, then moved up to kiss you, making you taste yourself. Something that had to be the devil’s thing.
“Are you sure about that?” he asked with a wink.
He didn’t give you time to respond before sinking into an inch at a time. He pulled your legs over his shoulders till his hairs met yours.
You sucked in a breath, “oh Go-.” Lucifer thrust a little further to hit your cervix, making you cry out.
“Let’s leave him out of this.”
Lucifer pulled nearly all the way out before slamming into you and setting a punishing pace. The tendril of grace above your clit kept reminding you of its presence but did nothing to further your arousal. He groaned and grunted above you. His eyes were shut, but light seeped out from under his eyelashes. His hips faltered for a second, but he laughed.
“He’s really enjoying this, Y/N, your precious Castiel. Should we show him one more layer of you?”
Lucifer reached down and encircled his fingers around your throat. You panted for air and felt your walls clench tighter. The grace preventing you from speaking evaporated, leaving room for you to gasp and wheeze.
“We’ll remember this for next time.”
You couldn’t even fathom ‘next time’ as every nerve inside you seemed to snap. You cried out for Castiel as Lucifer released you. Everything went a bluish-shade of white as you orgasmed. Lucifer slowed his pace, then pulled out to spill onto your breasts. You were still recovering as Lucifer stood to one side of the bed.
“Aren’t you a beautiful picture, sweetheart. You might want to clean up before the Winchesters see you like that. We’ll catch you later, in every meaning of the word.” He took a step, then shuddered. “Fine,” he said, turning back to you. “Castiel wants me to clean you up and tuck you in.”
With a snap of his fingers, you were clean and dressed in some shorts and a tee. Lucifer leaned down and pulled the blanket over you as your consciousness started to wane.
“We’ll see you later,” he whispered in your ear. He laughed as you shuddered.
“Rest well, Y/N,” you heard Cas say in your head. Then you fell asleep into darkness, your silence paid in full.
Our Deepest Desires 