I have a whole assortment of goodies for everyone to indulge in.
Hang out, have a read, and tell me your favorite parts <3
- Please do not copy my work and post it elsewhere.
- Each fic has warnings and ratings before the story.
- Likes, reblogs, and comments are always highly appreciated đŤś
- Thanks for reading!
The Fanfic Writers of the SPN Fandom Discord Server is once again hosting our annual Kinktober and Fictober writing challenge!
For adults, you may use either, or both prompt lists! For anyone under the age of 18, you may only use the Fictober list!
You do not need to be a member of the Discord server to participate!
That's right! This event is open to EVERYONE! So long as you abide by the rules and post correctly, anybody is welcome to write along!
NEW FOR THIS YEAR: We are also accepting ART SUBMISSIONS!!! Please check the rules linked below for more information!
Here are our super awesome prompt lists!
ALL SHIPS ALLOWED INCLUDING OCs, X READER, AND SPN RPF
IMPORTANT LINKS!
Rules
If you would like to join our Discord server, click >>here<< for the invite! Again, it isn't required to participate, but if you did, that'd be super cool! We'd love to welcome you to the FFW Family!
Title: Yesterday's Memory Of Tomorrow
Pairing: Castiel/Sam Winchester
Rating: Mature | Word Count: 8,718
Tags: Protective Castiel, Emotionally Hurt Sam, Prophetic Dreams, Time Travel, Castiel's True Form, Natural Disasters, Mt St Helens 1980 Eruption, Visions, Researching Sam, Protective Dean, Naked Sun Bathing, Castiel Helps Sam To Get Dean An Awesome Gift, Canon-Typical Violence, Sam Rescues Castiel, Top/Bottom Versatile Sam, Top/Bottom Versatile Castiel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Happy Ending, Written for the Sam/Cas Big Bang 2025-2026, Original Art by @xpurdyglambertx
Summary: Castiel had gone missing. Yet again. But this time felt different to Sam. Mostly because of the vivid and wildly disturbing dreams that had been haunting him for weeks. The dreams felt almost prophetic in their intensity, and Castiel kept appearing to Sam, trying to give him clues as to how he might be able to rescue the wayward angel. All Sam needed to save the day was a little Latin, a touch of time travel, and the faith of his convictions. Oh, and to try to not look guilty as hell whenever Mt. St. Helens might get mentioned.
Ah, the chaos duo has been unleashed! I was lucky enough to be able to kick off the Sam/Cas Big Bang this year, and I decided that the boys couldn't be contained to a single time. They needed a much larger canvas to wreak their unique brand of well-intentioned havoc. I would like to thank @flanneledfae for bringing this bang back to life, because these boys need all the love! And also, a huge thank you to @xpurdyglambertx for seeing my vision and making it happen! I hope everyone enjoys and understands that Cas cannot be held accountable for actions he takes while trying to save us all... đđđŚ
Are you tired of the current 911 canon? Or do you just love playing with your blorbos in all the different universes and scenarios? Well here's the chance to do a full month of weekly AU themes so scratch that AU itch!
Dates: August 1st - August 31st
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Weekly Themes
Week 1: The FixerÂ
Aka Fix-It/Canon DivergenceÂ
Are still mad that Bobby died? Is there anything from seasons' past that still bother you? Have you been wanting to write a certain fix it fic or change something in canon but haven't done it yet? Or do you wanna try another version of a concept you've already done?Â
Well this week is all about that. There can be just little changes or complete series rewrite but it all has to remain within the series. Basically don't do like a Fantasy AU or anything. (That's for later weeks).Â
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Week 2: Strange New Worlds
Want your favorite character to step into different Fantasy realms or Sc-Fi planets? Or maybe you would like to make an AU based on another fandom you love? This week is all about being in different "worlds" than the one that 911 is based in. Can still be all-human and set in "real life", just can't exist in the show's universe.
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Week 3: Witches, Werewolves, Vampires, Oh My!
911 but make it paranormal. This is your chance to make that vampire romance you always wanted or have your fave big firefighters also be big hairy werewolves. Can be anything that has supernatural elements to it. Basically go crazy with the spooky stuff!
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Week 4: Different First Meeting/Free For All
It ain't called a classic trope for nothing. This can either set within the show's world or not. Basically it can be anything you want. Go crazy! Also if you missed previous weeks and wanna still post them this week is also for you. Finally, this is a free for all as well, so any AU that doesn't fit any of the other themes you can do it this week
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Rules:
Can be fics, gifsets, graphics, edits, video edits, memes, + anything else you can think of
Can be for any romantic ships/platonic ships/characters in the 911 universe (yes including Lone Star and Nashville)
Dead Dove Do Not Eat is absolutely allowed but please tag everything that needs to be tagged properly
Any rating is fine but, again, please tag properly
If you can't make one week but in the midst of making something for that theme you can still post it in later weeks even after the event is over
Please tag all your posts #911AUgust and #911auevents on both Tumblr and AO3
Please be nice to each other's works
Also no creations solely for the purpose of character bashing. They can be character critical but absolutely none where it's basically "here's why this character sucks"
This is meant to be a fun and positive event for everyone so let's please keep it civil
Most importantly: have fun!
Notes: I will post a link to the AO3 collection once I officially get it all set up
Come one, come all to the first round of the SPN Mpreg Bang!
Please... let's get these men pregnant!
Rules & Schedules - The fine print where we hope everyone's questions will be answered and we find out when these men will be due!
Author & Artist Sign-Up Form - Please proceed with caution, we don't want anyone's water breaking prematurely!
Who's welcome to join? Absolutely everyone who is 18 or older!
In need of some inspiration to get those wheels turning?!?!
đĽ§Dean. He's been in the trenches his entire life! Raising babies and ganking monsters like he was destined to do it!
đŞ˝Castiel. He's rumpled, he's easily confused, he never gets that reference, but damn! You thought he glowed when he let loose with his grace... just wait until you see his pregnancy glow!
đŤSam. He knows the lore, he's the first to confirm the endless possibilities, and we picture him carrying twins with ease!
â¨ď¸Gabriel. He's a trickster who gleefully created the seahorse, and we think he would be perfectly willing to carry a child of his own!
đBobby. He makes a wonderful father, we all know that, just look at the two boys he already raised. Let's give him another baby!
đĽAdam. Hey, we know he got screwed over for all eternity, so let's give him a baby to raise so he doesn't feel entirely pointless!
đłBalthazar. We believe the sassiness would reach epic levels before he collapsed on the couch and watched Titanic on an endless loop!
I mean, we could go on... and on... and so, I guess we will.
Jimmy, Michael, Samandriel, Benny, Ash, John...
And yes! Bring on the SPN-RPF! We want all the boys knocked up!
Tags/Warnings: Smut, choking, rough sex, threat/talk of a gangbang, sex in a public bathroom, no aftercare, face fucking, deepthroating, cunnilingus, fingering, dry humping/thigh humping, hair pulling, degradation, dirty talk, spanking, slapping, unprotected sex, cream pie, squirting, pussy slapping, finger sucking, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, Sir kink if you squint, masochistic reader, brat reader, no use of Y/N, reader has no descriptors other than being slightly shorter than Dean and has enough hair to pull.
Summary: It's been six months since you struck the deal with Dean, and true to his word, he comes back like clockworkâeven when you're not at home.
Word Count: 7.7k
Author's Note: Title from the song Animal by Chase Holfelder
A part two to this post from 2025 Kinktober was requested, so here it is!!
This counts for the Mirror Sex square for @j3bingo
Thank you to @gappyswife for beta-reading this for me!
Dividers: Line Divider 1 by @olenvasynyt Line Divider 2 by @omi-resources SPN Divider by @talesmaniac89
Tag List: @copperboom82 @sleepycues @xpurdyglambertx @flanneledfae
Neon paints your body in hues of red and blue as you cross the dance floor. The dive bar has little by way of illumination beyond the signs on the wall depicting beer and food, half-naked cowgirls, and the name of the joint. A few yellowed lights hang from the ceiling, joining the bright colors to shine down on the crowd below.
You wind your way through the throng of sweaty bodies, their boisterous conversations meld with the thrum of music soaking into the atmosphere. Cold glass bites into your palm as you carry your fresh beer back to the edge of the dance floor.Â
Itâs standing room onlyâ a regular occurrence on Thursday nights where ladies drink freeâ and since your friends have long since returned home, you donât see the point in trying to snag a high-top for yourself.Â
No, half drunk on the music and the cheap beer, you donât want to sitâyou want to dance.
Between line dances, you down long-necks and tall glasses of water alike, feeling like youâre sweating it out faster than you can consume; the last thing you want is to wake up in the morning with a splitting headache, even if your freelance job awarded you a day off.Â
After being contained to your apartment by the threat of being ripped to shreds at the razor-sharp claws of a pack of supernatural beasts, you want to spend your new lease on life as you pleased, and right now, you are doing just that.Â
Youâve lost count of how many dances youâve finished by the time your bladder begs you to vacate the floor and empty it. Reluctantly, you shuffle off the dance floor, having to only wait behind three other girls before you snag an open stall.Â
The bathroom itself leaves something to be desired. Dingy tile line the floors; you arenât sure if the patterns were actually design choices or were poorly cleaned stains. Raunchy love notes cozy up to random phone numbers with instructions to âcall for a good timeâ with crude pictures of dicks on the cheap stall walls and door.Â
Noting the bathroom was empty, you finish up and wash your hands, smiling at the additional graffiti etched into the edges of the dirty mirrors. Most of it is hazy anyway, the blanket of alcohol warming you at the edges. You pull your tube of lipstick from the pocket of your miniskirt, the denim barely covering you enough to avoid a public indecency charge.
You donât think much of it when the music grows louder, too busy shoving the lipstick back into your pocket. The door to the bathroom creaks open before it shuts hard with a thud, muting the sounds once more.
It isnât until you hear the snick of the lock sliding into place that you look up to see a figure standing behind you in the reflection of the mirror. Your heart drops to your stomach in the same second your pussy throbs violently when you whirl around to familiar green eyes that blink black before returning to their alluring jade.Â
âHiya, Sweetheart,â Dean purrs, stepping closer so that thereâs less than a foot of space between your bodies. âForget what day it is?â
Your boots have a bit of a heel, so thereâs less of a height difference than the first time he visited you. Usually, youâre at home. Most of the time youâre already in bed when he arrives, sometimes in the shower, sometimes making food.
âNo. Just lost track of time.â Somewhere between the dancing and the drinks and your phone being tucked away in the purse youâd brought, the time had slipped away.
His head cocks to the side, the move more animalistic than human. âThat so?â
âI wanted a night out with my friends. Sue me.â
His eyebrows raise but he says nothing.Â
Not right away at least.Â
Instead his attention drifts from your face, slipping down your body.Â
You can see his eyes catch on your strappy tank top where the halter neckline plunges to near obscene levels, showing off the scalloped lace of your bra. The green in his gaze goes dark in a different way than you are used to the further down it travels, down all the way to the bare expanse of your legs and where your boots sit upon your feet.
âMustâa had every guy in here tonight drooling over you,â Dean says appreciatively, eyes flicking back up to yours.Â
You brace your hands on the sink behind you and lean back with a shrug, trying to act casual and not like your pussy isnât growing wetter by the second. The heat that rises to your cheeks is in humiliation. He hasnât even touched you yet and here you are like a bitch in heat.
Youâd noticed the heated stares, the way some of the men in the barâs eyes would pop out of their skull like some cartoon, and youâd be lying to him and to yourself if you said you didnât revel in it.Â
He leans in, and youâre not sure when he got this close to you but youâre assaulted with the intoxicating smell of him. Something masculine and dark that makes you want to bury your face in the crook of his neck.Â
You jump a little when the warmth of his palm spreads along the inside of your thigh, too entranced by his gaze, heavy and focused, to notice his arm slipping between your bodies until itâs there. His fingers tease along the soft skin, the tips just inches from the throbbing need between your thighs.Â
âToo bad your pussyâs already got someone takinâ care aâher, right?â He croons, slipping his hand up.Â
Words escape you as he slides your panties to the side, not that the lacy scrap of fabric was covering much to begin with.Â
Your mouth gapes open at the first teasing touch, the calloused tips of his fingers sliding through your slick, bumping against your clit. Hands gripping the edge of the sink so hard youâre sure the porcelain will crack any second, your hips buck up against his hand, seeking the stimulation.
The sense of euphoria is short lived when his other hand shoots out, wrapping around your neck. A gasp gets stuck in your throat and your eyes flare wide. His fingerprints dent your skin.
âRight?â He asks again with a darker edge this time.Â
The bathroom around you narrows to the tightness of his grip on your neck and the pleasure derived from his fingers still working over your soaking core. Every inch of your body erupts in tingles, and you would have nodded if his hold allowed it.Â
âYes,â is all you manage to choke out.Â
It is a funny feeling. Dean quite literally has your life in his hand. By all accounts you should be pissing-yourself-terrified. But youâre not. Instead, all you can focus on is the dark whorls of lust eddying in the depths of his eyes, the green heightened with his enjoyment, and how his middle finger is circling your clit with precision.Â
That was, until it retreats and you nearly whine at the loss of contact.Â
You sense where his hand is going milliseconds before his open palm makes contact with the side of your face. Itâs not hard enough to do any damage beyond a buzzing beneath your skin that will last probably as long as this encounter, but itâs hard enough for tears to sting at your eyes.Â
âYes,â you wheeze, his grip on your throat just loose enough for the words to squeeze out. âMy pussyâs yours.â
Another slap, this one no less gentle than the first. âSay it again.â
Your hand slips up, wrapping around his wrist. âMy pussyâs yours.â
His pulse is even under your frantic grip. If it werenât for the desire written in his gaze and the sizable bulge straining against the front of his jeans, you wouldnât have guessed he was enjoying this. Youâre painfully aware of arousal dripping down your inner thigh, your core clenching around nothing.
Deanâs hand connects with the side of your face one last time then returns between your thighs. The edges of your vision start to go fuzzy, and the moan he pulls from your lips when his fingers press harshly against your clit comes out more like a high pitched keen.
He leans in, keeping steady pressure on your neck. âYouâre gonna cum for me before I let you go. Can you do that for me, whore? Not like you need to breathe, anyway.â
âYes,â you choke out, voice a little louder than a whisper.
âYes what?â Dean asks teasingly, his fingers moving across your core in a way that makes it really hard to formulate words.Â
âYes, sir.â Your words are slurred, but they seem to suffice anyway as his hand picks up the pace.Â
Your hips grind against his palm, matching the rhythm heâd created. You feel dazed when his hand slips lower, two fingers shoving inside you while the heel of his palm acts as the perfect surface to grind your clit on.Â
He doesnât seem to notice or care when your nails dig into the inside of his wrist, your other clawing at his shoulder to brace yourself against the rapidly growing wave of pleasure stemming from between your thighs.Â
His muscles shift under your grip as he angles his arm better so he can send his middle and ring finger even deeper into you, curling them up towards your belly. Your hips grind down against his hand, the rough surface providing the most divine friction against your needy clit.
An amused chuckle from Dean vibrates through your body. âI can feel your pussy clenching around my fingers. Fuck, I canât wait to feel âer around my cock.â
A strangled whine is all you can muster as he curls his fingers inside you, stroking that soft spot within you that darkens your vision even further. Arching your back, you press your chest into Deanâs, his preternatural warmth soaking into you.Â
Youâre sure he can feel the way your nipples are hardened, even through both your shirts. The bralette underneath is little more than decorative lace with a paper thin backing there to not irritate your skin.Â
His blood-red button down is immaculate, tucked into a pair of dark wash jeans; itâs similar to the outfit he wore the first time you met him.
Well, heâs nothing if not consistent, you think before stars burst behind your eyes, which you squeeze shut as the tightness in your belly gives way.Â
You cum harder than the first time he fucked you. Harder than you ever have in your life.Â
Your body goes rigid, trembling from head to toe as electric shocks spark through you all down your spine. The ache of pleasure pulses through your body as he works you through the throes of your climax.Â
Head lolling to the side as Deanâs grip on your neck lessens, you gasp in air. The room around you spins as you gulp down oxygen the best you can through your unabashed moans.
Deanâs lips slot over yours, drowning out your sounds of ecstasy and you can taste the whiskey on his tongue when it sweeps into your mouth. Your hand slides up his shoulder to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the shaggy ends as you kiss him back with matching intensity. A low rumble of satisfaction emanates from his chest.
As you slowly come back into your body, Deanâs hand slows, his fingers leisurely dragging out of you and stroking your oversensitive clit on their way out from between your trembling legs. He grips your chin none too gently, breaking the kiss.Â
There isnât enough time for you to miss the feeling of his lips on yours, to savor the tingling he left behind, before his fingers are in your mouth.Â
The calloused tips press down your tongue and instinctively you wrap your lips around the second knuckle. You can taste yourself as you work them over with your tongue, your whimper turning into a gag when Dean shoves his fingers deeper into your mouth.
âThatâs right,â Dean all but purrs, looking on with a lust-drunk expression. âHow are you gonna take my cock if you canât take two little fingers?â
Heâs right, you think, but I wouldnât call his fingers small, either.
His grip on your chin relaxes just enough for you to work your jaw open more. Viscous saliva floods your mouth as Dean moves his fingers in and out of your mouth. Every time he bottoms them out, you cough and gag as the tips wiggle against the back of your throat.Â
Tears sting your eyes, spilling down your cheeks in fat droplets when you blink up at him. Thereâs a hungry edge to the way he gazes down at you, obsession bleeding in as he fixates on how your spit collects on his knuckles and rolls down his hand.Â
Another rush of want crashes over you at the way heâs looking at you and in response, your thighs clench together unconsciously. The miniscule movement isnât missed by Dean, not that you were really trying to hide your insatiable need anyway.Â
âGod, youâre such a greedy slut,â he groans. âI just got you off and youâre already wanting more, arenât âcha, Sweetheart?â
With his fingers shoved into your mouth, all you can do is hum in agreement.Â
Dean hums his approval, and with the slightest nod his fingers slip from your mouth, the hand on your jaw following suit. You suck air in greedily, the strings of drool starting to cool on your chin.Â
With eyes half-lidded out of pure lust, you watch him raise the hand pulled from your mouth up to his own. A particularly strong pulse of arousal nearly sends you to the floor as his tongue darts out from between his lips. The sounds that come from him slurping your spit from his hand are purely pornographic, all while he keeps his eyes locked on yours.
âKnees. Now,â he commands, wiping the mix of your spit on his jeans.
With how shaky your knees have become in the aftermath of his displayâ as well as the leg-shaking orgasm he gave youâ youâre tempted to comply. A glance down to the bulge in his pants is enough for saliva to pool under your tongue, but the alcohol in your system has made you bold.Â
âAnd if I donât want to?â
His head cocks to the side, eyebrows quirked up. âNo?â
A shake of your head as you look up at him through your lashes. âNo.â
âYou donât want me?â He asks, his hand curling around your wrist, bringing your palm to rest on the evidence of his arousal. âYou donât want my cock?â
His grip disappears, but you press the heel of your palm against him, dragging your hand along the length of him. âNo, I donât.â
Dean gives you a knowing smirk, and the moment stretches wide between you before he finally speaks.Â
âLiar.â
His hand moves too fast for you to react, fingers tangling painfully in your hair as he grabs a fistful.Â
You cry out softly, half from the pain and half out of shock. He leans forward and the sound dies out into a quiet gasp. Your eyes dart from the depths of his gaze to his lips, which are still tugged upwards in a satisfied grin, and back again.Â
âYou want me. Iâve been inside you. Tasted you.â His thumb traces the plush of your bottom lip, smearing your lipstick even further. âI know just how desperate you are for my cock, whore. You canât ever pretend otherwise.â
Your knees make contact with the grimy bathroom floor and you can feel yourself tremble with anticipation as Dean angles your head to look up at him.Â
âKeep your eyes on me,â he says, undoing his belt with his free hand.
âAnd if I donât?â You ask before you can think better of it.Â
Dean doesnât even bother to shove his jeans and boxers down his muscular thighs. They barely make it down past his balls before heâs languidly stroking himself, the tip red and already leaking.Â
Your throat bobs and you barely flinch when he grips himself at the base and slaps his heavy cock against your cheek.Â
âOh, Sweetheart. Donât make me ask twice,â he says.
Heart beating a million miles a minute, you barely feel the small sting of contact nor the dull ache of the tight grip he has on your hair. Your world is narrowed to the throbbing need in your pussy and Deanâs hard cock bobbing in front of you.Â
âNow donât be difficult and open your fucking mouth,â he growls, shoving his cock towards your mouth.Â
You have the good sense this time to obey, your lips parting without hesitation. Tongue lolling out, you barely have enough time to situate yourself before his cock is halfway down your throat.Â
Instantly, your throat is on fire and you gag at the sudden intrusion. Hands flying up to brace against his denim clad thighs, you brace yourself as Dean holds your head in place.
âFuuuck,â he rasps, dragging his hips back and briefly allowing you to breathe. âI missed this. Had a lotta girls, but none of their mouths feel half as good as yours does.â
It takes a second for you to adjust to how heâs stuffed into your mouth. Drool has already started to leak out of the sides of your mouth with every thrust of his hips. The stretch of your lips, the taste of him is just right. He smells warm, like sweat and skin and some clean, masculine soap.
And itâs pathetic the way you silently enjoy him pressing your face further onto his cock until your nose is buried in the thick, curly hair at his pubic bone. Your throat spasms as he holds you there, unable to breathe and frozen with sensory overload.Â
Hot tears crawl down your cheeks, blending with your drool on your chin. Just when the edges of your vision start to blur, Dean yanks you off his cock by your hair. You cough and sputter, replenishing the void of oxygen in your lungs.Â
Thick strings of drool stick to your chin and neck, and you just know your mascara is running down your cheeks, half-dried to your skin with your tears.
âSuch a messy girl,â he coos, honey-laced words dripping with condescension. âSee, all you needed was a good dick in that brat mouth.â
You welcome the sting as his hand leaves another hot print on your cheek and you have to resist from leaning into his palm when it caresses the hurt. It slips away just as quickly, and in turn you wrap a hand around the spick-slick shaft of him.Â
âGonna keep fucking my face, or do you want me to make it actually feel good?â You ask, locked on his eyes as your mouth closes around the head of him.Â
The groan Dean utters when your cheeks cave around him, when your tongue slides along the sensitive underside of his cock, is all the answer you really need.Â
Youâd learned early enough on that you really had to squeeze your hand around his cock when stroking him. âHarder, bitch,â heâd growled. âDonât be fucking scared. Youâre not gonna break it.âÂ
His fingers still threaded themselves in your hair, the tips gliding across your scalp as you descended back down upon him. His head falls back, and the red ambient lighting in the bathroom gleams along the column of his throat, skin dewy with sweat.
Youâd like nothing more than to stand and lick the salt from his skin.Â
Tongue pressed to the underside and cheeks hollowed, you slide his cock all the way to the back of your throat. Your gag reflex balks, but you ignore it, pulling back barely half way before bobbing your head back down. The small whimpers and moans that you make no attempt to stifle travel along his cock.Â
Deanâs hand curls further into your hair, leaving your head littered with sharp pinpricks. All it does is add to the slickness between your thighs. Thighs that you press together seeking any kind of friction; you can feel your arousal roll down the insides. Your skirt is still hiked up around your hips, leaving your dripping pussy exposed to the cool air.Â
A dull ache makes itself known in your knees, the bathroom tile extremely unforgiving on the joints. You do your best to ignore it, hand sticky with spit abandoning his shaft in favor of cupping his balls.Â
Deanâs hips buck into your mouth at the additional touch, seeking the wet heat.Â
âOh fuck,â he grunts. âKeep doing that.â
So you do, fondling him there while maintaining your rhythm; push your head down on him until you can feel him in your throatâ until you gag harshlyâ then pull back enough to breathe through the spasm. Rinse and repeat all the while your free hand inches closer to your throbbing pussy. The wet, sloppy sounds from your mouth meld with his decadent grunts and groans, filling the bathroom.Â
The system works, up until the point it doesnât.
You come up for air only for Deanâs hand to press against the back of your head, pushing you back down onto his cock. Your eyes screw shut as your nose is mashed into the mess of curls at his pubic bone.Â
A sound of displeasure vibrates from your lips up the length of him, and after a second you try and pull your head back. It ends fruitlessly, though, as Dean only presses harder.Â
âShut up. Just a little longer,â he growls. âFucking take this cock. Fucking choke on it like the whore you are.â
Your tear-filled eyes screw shut as your throat spasms hard. Bracing a hand on his muscular thigh, your fingernails dig into the denim. Deanâs cock moves, barely pulling out an inch before itâs back, harshly slamming into your throat. A soreness grows in your jaw for how long youâve kept it open.
âFuck, thatâs it,â he moans, his chest heaving. âGonna fucking cum, baby.â
That fuzzy, floaty feeling returns as you struggle against the need to breathe, against the intrusion of cock in your throat. He starts to twitch against your tongue, and the pistoning of his hips grows sloppy and uneven. Pushing through the haze, you swallow around him, earning yourself a string of curses from above you.Â
The crass words are cut off by a garbled moan. You hear your name somewhere in there, but youâre too busy swallowing down Deanâs cum to pay much attention to what heâs saying. He holds you there, cock pumping his seed down your throat until he stops twitching and his length softens a bit.Â
Lines of spit connect your lips to his cock once he finally wrenches himself from your mouth, and they snap back against your chin when he takes a step back. Your body is wracked with wet coughs as you gasp for air. Heart beating what seems like a million beats a second, you lean back on your heels and wipe the spit from your face.
Out of the corner of your eye you see Dean tuck his half-flaccid cock back into his boxers, leaving the jeans unbuttoned.Â
âUp,â he rasps, still breathing hard from his climax.Â
On shaky legs, you rise up, wincing at the stiffness in your knees. You brace a hand on the sink behind you as the feeling returns to your lower extremities.Â
Deanâs hand slips around to the nape of your neck, drawing you in. His lips capture yours before your brain can catch up. He licks into your mouth and you whimper when his leg slots between yours. The top of his thigh bumps against your neglected core and you nearly cry at the sensation.Â
âI can fucking feel you soaking through my jeans, baby,â he says, sliding both hands to your hips. âSoaked just from sucking cock, just like a proper whore.â
Your brain buffers, overloaded with the repeated deprivation of oxygen and the way the roughness of denim feels against your needy clit, your panties still pulled to the side. All that leaks out of you is a pathetic whimper thatâs mostly intelligible.
Dean laughs cruelly, kissing a line of fire down your jawline. âSo dumb, baby, and you havenât even had my cock yet.â
He bounces his thigh against you and you cry out, hands scrambling to find purchase on his broad shoulders.Â
âPlease,â you manage to whine.Â
âPlease what?â His teeth graze the line where your jaw meets your neck.Â
âNeedâa cum. Please.â
âYou think you deserve it?â
âMhmm,â you nod vigorously. âPlease, Dean.â
You can feel the wet spot your soaked pussy has made, now. The dampness of the fabric allows you to slide easier along the rigidness, your movements barely a fraction of what you need.Â
âYou think you can make yourself cum on just my thigh?â He pulls back from your neck, an amused tilt to his lips. âGonna hump my leg like the dog you are?â
âPlease,â you say barely above a whisper, legs trembling again.
âIâm not gonna help you. Gonna have to be a big girl and do it all yourself.â
âThatâs okay, itâs okay. I can do it. Please, please,â you babble nonsensically now, much to his sadistic satisfaction.
âBetter get on with it then,â he says.Â
No sooner are the words spoken into existence are your hips grinding down against his thigh. You feel him flex his quad beneath you, creating a ridge that feels mind-numbingly good against your clit.Â
You cling to his shoulders for stability, wanton moans spilling from your lips unimpeded. It takes less than a minute for a tightness to grow low in your belly. The heat from his body, the smell of him, it all wraps around you and soaks into your veins like an aphrodisiac.Â
Thereâs no sane part of you left to care how humiliating this is, how desperate you are to dry hump his thigh just from having a dick down your throat. Everything in you is narrowed down to how good dragging your pussy along his thigh feels. How with every shift of your hips, sparks of pleasure threaten to set you alight.Â
âSuch a dirty girl,â Dean croons in your ear as you puff out breathy moans. âSo goddamn pathetic itâs almost sad.â
Your pussy clenches on nothing at the words, at the names heâs calling you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, hiding the way your cheeks warm. The scent of him is stronger here, and you inhale deeply.Â
Deanâs hands have moved to the sink directly behind you, his body effectively caging you between the solidness of his torso and the cool porcelain. Itâs that fact alone that keeps you mostly upright, your legs shaking. It grows worse with each drag of your pussy along his thigh, pressure building between your legs.Â
âI can feel you shaking, you close?â Deanâs words rumble through you.Â
You nod against his neck, moaning into his skin like you can imbue your need to cum into his system. You squirm and hump against him, mouth falling open as you rapidly approach the edge of your orgasm. Itâs so close, the final build up making your movements erratic as you push yourself just that little bit further.Â
But just as you are about to tip over the edge, Dean pulls his thigh from between your legs and steps back enough you have to reach behind you to keep yourself from collapsing to the ground.Â
âNo!â You cry out, very nearly at the verge of tears. âWhaâwhat the fuck?!â
Dean chuckles darkly, meeting your frustrated gaze. âDid you really think it was going to be that easy? God, youâre dumb.â
âFuck you,â you spit at him.Â
âAll in good time, baby. Now turn around, put your hands on the sink.â
You scowl and instead you reach down, tugging your skirt back over what little it covers before crossing your arms over your chest. âNo.â
Deanâs head tilts and he pouts his lip mockingly. âNo? Gonna throw a little tantrum now?â
âFuck. You.â You say again.Â
âYouâre really gonna try this with me?â
Heâs stepped closer again, so if you really did want to go anywhere, youâd have to push past him.Â
But you donât, and he knows it.Â
Itâs all part of the game. You play it up, act like you donât want him, just so that heâll snap and manhandle you into whatever way he wants you. The best part about it is, he wants to fuck you just as much, so no matter how much you brat, how much you pretend, youâll end up with his cock shoved into you anyway.Â
Itâs a welcome change to all the hook-ups youâd had before. Menâ boys, reallyâ who would give up at the slightest bit of pushback, whoâd pussy out at the level of roughness you so desperately craved.Â
And thatâs why, even though Dean popped up once a month to rock your world and leave you sated, you never felt the need to indulge the men like the ones whoâd been at the bar tonight. They could never satisfy you in the same way.Â
âTurn around, and put your hands on the sink,â he instructs again, both of you knowing you wonât before the words even leave his mouth.Â
You stand taller, looking him straight on. âMake me.â
You can see the instant his resolve snaps. Something in his face twitches and his expression darks the millisecond before his hands grasp onto your hips roughly. A gasp makes its way out of you when youâre spun around and shoved roughly into the sink.Â
The edge digs into your stomach, but thatâs the last thing youâre paying attention to when Dean kicks your legs apart with his boot. His hand presses into the middle of your spine, pressing your upper half forward so you are half laying across the sink.Â
Looking up, you are met with your reflection for the first time since Dean walked into the bathroom.Â
You were right to assume you looked absolutely wrecked. Mascara is streaked down your face, your red lipstick smeared across your kiss-swollen lips. Then your eyes cant up and you catch Dean staring, but not at your face. His eyes, pupils blown so wide you can barely see his green irises, are trained lower.Â
Bent over like this, your skirt rides up an obscene amount, baring your panty-clad pussy to him. His lower lip is caught in between his teeth, and he almost looks contemplative in his admiration.Â
âGonna keep staring or are you gonna do something?â You snark, watching his eyes snap up to yours in the mirror.Â
âAnd what are you gonna do if I donât?â He asks in turn. âWhat if I just make you stand like this and let all those guys out there who were eye-fucking you come in here and take their turn?â
Your pussy clenches at the thought, and even though Dean no doubt caught the motion, he makes no comment.Â
âYou wouldnât. Youâre too fucking possessive,â you respond, calling his bluff with not a bit of confidence in your statement.Â
Dean smiles, and itâs not a kind expression.
Warm skin against the backs of your thighs makes you flinch a bit, even though you can see him take a step forward. His hands slide your skirt back over the swell of your ass, bunching the fabric around your waist.Â
âMaybe, maybe not,â he muses, slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. âMaybe when Iâm all done with you here they can fuck you while my cumâs still leaking out of you.â
Cool air meets your soaked core as Dean drags your panties down your thighs, down your legs. His fingertips skate your skin as he lifts your feet, removing the scrap of fabric completely. Your mouth twists in a fleeting moment of disappointment when he shoves them into his back pocket.Â
Those were my favorite pair.Â
âEither way, I still get to cum,â you finally say.Â
You yelp as his hand comes down hard on your ass. Once, twice, three times in rapid succession. It stings, leaving your skin tingling. The sensation shoots right between your thighs, reinvigorating the swelling need inside you.Â
âYou really wanna cum that bad youâd let strangers fuck you?â He says with a condescending incredulousness. âGod, youâre more pathetic than I thought.â
Another slap, this time to your other asscheek. Your fingers grip the edge of the sink as you resist the urge to rock back towards him. Your cheeks burn from the sting of his words, but heâs not finished.Â
âDo you think of me when you fuck yourself?â
You didnât think your cheeks could grow any hotter in embarrassment, but he never fails to surprise you.Â
âWhat the fuck kind of question is that?â You squeak.
âThe kind I expect answered,â he says with another slap to your ass.Â
His hand smooths over the warm skin and you nearly moan when it slides inward, his thumb ghosting across your pussy.Â
âWhy does it matter?â
âBecause I wanna know if I make you scream my name even when Iâm not here to fuck you senseless.â
Your mouth opens and closes as you try to formulate a sentence, but itâs hard to focus with his thumb stroking the slickness of your core. Itâs teasing, not enough for the sensations to build, just enough to keep you on edge.Â
You cry out, flinching forward only to be stopped by the sink, when Deanâs hand makes contact with your exposed pussy this time. It hurts more than your ass, but the pleasure that it turns into isnât diminished.Â
âAnswer me, slut.â
His hand comes down on your core again and you canât contain the moan that comes with it.Â
âYes, I think of you,â you relent, gripping tighter to the sink.Â
His thumb presses against your clit and your breath catches in your lungs. The pad rubs circles around the nub and you could cry from the direct stimulation.Â
âGood.â Is all he says before you lose sight of him in the mirror when he sinks to his knees behind you.Â
Your head drops forward at the first puff of his hot breath against your core. His tongue follows, licking a hot stripe up your pussy. A soft moan leaves your lips as he does it again, the tip of his tongue swirling around your clit as he uses both hands to grope your asscheeks.Â
His stubble scrapes against your inner thighs, the combination of sensations making your head spin. You rock back against his face, and surprisingly he lets you. His tongue and lips lick and suck at your core, and nothing about the way heâs eating you out is quiet.
Your hips buck when his teeth close around your clit, not ready for the sudden second of pain. His tongue is right there following, licking away the immediate hurt. His thumb takes over, his tongue dipping inside you.Â
âDonât stop, please,â you moan, grinding back on his face.Â
âWasnât planning on it,â he says, pulling away from your pussy just long enough to say as such before going right back.Â
The pressure of your climax rushes up and you barely have enough strength in your legs to keep yourself upright. The orgasm roars through you in one giant wave. Your mouth falls open as his mouth works you over through it.Â
In the mirror, you see him stand, and then youâre being flipped around so that you're leaning back against the sink again.Â
His lips connect with yours and you can taste yourself on his mouth as he kisses you. Itâs not gentle, his teeth clash with yours, your tongues dancing and somewhere in the way he licks into your mouth you feel his hand slide between your bodies to your pussy.Â
Youâve barely recovered from the orgasm he just brought you to, and now his middle and ring finger are slipping inside you.Â
Carding your fingers through his hair, you kiss Dean hard, letting his mouth swallow your desperate moans. Stars spark behind your eyes as he curls his fingers up towards your belly. Quickly, he finds that soft spot that makes your legs feel like jelly, threatening to send you to the floor.Â
âDe-Dean! Oh fuck,â you cry out.Â
His mouth has migrated to your neck, sucking hard on your pulse point. You clench hard around his fingers, a different kind of pressure building low in your belly. Another orgasm builds slowly, especially as the heel of his palm presses against your clit.Â
âThat's right, bitch. Scream my name. Scream it loud so everybody out there knows who you belong to.âÂ
He shoves his fingers further into your sloppy pussy, wet and obscene sounds reaching your ears. Your head lolls to the side, allowing him better access to kiss and nibble on your neck. Youâll have to wear make up to cover up the hickies that heâs undoubtedly placing along your skin like a sign to say youâre his. He punches his digits in and out of you, petting that fucking spot.Â
Your thighs are trembling so hard nowâ so is the entirety of your body. The pressure just keeps building and building. Heâs everywhere, between your legs, other hand groping your body, his mouth on your neck. Nowhere is left unattended and it is so much.
âFeel you clenching so fucking tight on my fingers, baby. Gonna cum again for me?â Dean says against your neck, leaning up to nip at your ear.Â
All you can do is nod. Words donât feel real to you right now and no amount of anything could change that.Â
Your nonverbal confirmation seems to satisfy him well enough. Then, he does something, something so good and he keeps doing it. Everything around you fades to just his ministrations and the feel of his body caging yours, and you feel the pressure snap.Â
Everything goes white and your body seizes up with the intensity of which your orgasm slams into you. But Deanâs fingers donât stop. They continue to pump into you, curling into you. You donât even feel in control of your body as you feel yourself gush all over his hand.Â
Dean curses under his breath and you just barely acknowledge it as you gasp for air, clinging to his shoulders with all your might.Â
Dean draws his fingers from you and a perverted sense of deja vu hits you as he licks you from his fingers. He keeps you upright with his other arm snaked around your waist, and for that you are grateful.Â
âDidâ did I justâŚ?â You pant, slowly realizing whatâd happened.Â
âYou just squirted all over my fucking hand,â Dean affirms, wiping his hand on his jeans. âWish I wouldâa just stayed down there. Drank it right from the source.â
You groan at his obscene words, unable to stand the way his verbal filth immediately makes your overstimulated body respond in kind.Â
He taps your cheek none too gently. âDonât go tapping out on me now. Weâre not done yet.â
Youâre putty in his hands as he spins you around, bracing your hands on the edge of the sink. He letâs go, and on shaky legs you stand there watching him shove his jeans and boxers back down his thighs.Â
âYouâre so wet, not gonna have any issue getting in,â Dean mutters quietly.Â
You moan softly at the drag of his cock through your arousal. The spongy head of him bumps against your clit and you whimper, the overstimulation becoming borderline painful.Â
âWhatâs aâmatter?â Dean asks. âToo much?â
âUh huh,â you nod.Â
âToo fucking bad.â
You moan weakly as Dean presses forward, shoving the blunt tip of his cock inside you. Involuntarily, your hips sway forward, away from the stretch. With how wet you are, thereâs not much pain, but his fingers can only prepare you for the girth of his cock so far.Â
Deanâs hands grab fast to your hips, pulling you back to him, the motion sinking you down onto him almost to the hilt. You gasp a moan, feeling unbelievably full to the point it knocks the air from your lungs.Â
âWhere you goinâ?â he grunts, working his hips forward and back. âI know youâre not running from my cock after crying for it.â
âSo big,â you gasp, inner walls clenching around him as you try to adjust to the sudden stretch.Â
Dean leans forward, rutting his cock into you. âStop your fucking whining and take it, pathetic slut. I can feel you dripping down my balls.â
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as his words hit their mark. Itâs all so much; you can practically feel every vein and contour of him inside you. As he drags himself out, the bulge of his head catches on that sensitive spot, immediately making your legs shake.Â
âOh, baby, cry all you fucking want,â Dean lays a sloppy kiss to your bare shoulder. âAll itâs gonna do is make me harder.â
As if in emphasis, he snaps his hips into yours. You are thrust forward, the unforgiving edge of the sink digging into your lower stomach. Blinking, the tears leak down your cheeks, rewetting the paths from the ones that had fallen earlier.Â
His arm snakes around to your front, pulling you back against his chest. A big hand pulls your shirt and bra to the side, enveloping a breast. He rolls the hardened nipple between his fingers, every movement made with expert precision.Â
You swear you can feel his cock in your stomach with every grinding thrust into you. His hips barely break contact with your ass like he canât be bothered to pull out for even a second. The outcome is his cock stimulating that sensitive spot; the pressure is helped by the way the sink edge ensures he slides along it with each and every movement.Â
âSo fucking tight, baby,â Dean moans in your ear, still fondling your breast. âAlways a perfect fuckinâ cumslut for me.â
Your hand reaches behind you both, sinking your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. His balls slap against your skin as his thrusts grow longer, his hand sliding up from your tit to your neck. He doesnât squeeze this time, but just the feel of his calloused palm and fingers circling your throat makes you clench around his cock.Â
âFucking meâŚso good,â you moan out, holding a hand to his wrist.Â
âSay my name, bitch. Whoâs fucking you so good?â He growls, nipping at your shoulder.Â
âYou are, Dean,â you babble.Â
The hand not on your throat dips between your legs, finding your thoroughly abused clit. A whine crawls its way up your throat and you feel his hand tighten almost imperceptibly around your neck.
âShut up. I donât wanna hear it,â he snaps. âJust take it. Fucking take it.â
âButââ
âI donât care. Not my fucking problem.â
And he doesnât, his fingers speeding up their motions on your clit. Sharp pangs stab at you with each brush of his callouses over your swollen nub. It all melts into pleasure and all you can do is push your ass back against him, meeting his thrusts.Â
Dean moans his approval. âSee, thatâs a good whore. Feels fucking good, donât it.â
âYes,â you keen, slamming yourself back on his cock.
His thrusts donât let up. Instead, they become more forceful, sending you into the sink hard enough youâre sure you are gonna have bruises on your hips tomorrow morning. His cock throbbing against your inner walls, and his panting moans in your ear have become ragged. His fingers on your clit are unrelenting, pushing you towards the brink of yet another orgasm.Â
Heâs all but draped over your back at this point, snapping his hips into yours erratically. Just when you think you canât take any more, Dean groans into your ear.Â
âGonna fucking paint this pussy white, and youâre gonna take it all. Yâhear me?â
Your pussy pulses in response. âYes, please cum in me.â
Dean moans and itâs one of the sexiest things youâve ever heard. âThatâs fucking right. Beg for my cum, bitch.â
His hand slides from your neck to your shoulder, bracing you and himself as he thrusts harder, balls slapping harshly against you. The grip is bruising, but youâre too far gone to care.Â
âPlease, cum in me, Dean. Needâa feel you fill me,â you whimper.
âOh fuck, baby.â
You feel hips stutter then, his cock throbs as his orgasm hits him. Heâs not quiet, moaning your name loudly. Â
You can feel his cum filling you, thick ropes spurting into your pussy, and that alone sends you over the edge, yet another orgasm crashing into you. This time, your violently shaking legs give out.Â
Instantly, Dean's arm wraps around your waist, holding you there as he gives a few more rutting thrusts into your pussy, milking his cock. You both stay there for a second, heavy breathing filling the room as you gasp for air.Â
He breaks the silence first. âCan you stand?â
You take a second, assessing your still trembling body. Finally, you nod.Â
Taking you at your word, Dean relinquishes his hold on you, leaving you to brace yourself on the sink as he walks over to the paper towel dispenser. He snags a few, using them to clean his cock off before tucking himself away.Â
He doesnât offer you any, instead he turns and unlocks the door.Â
Sparing a glance over his shoulder, he gives you that sharp grin. âSo, same time next month?â
You tug your clothes back into place. âFuck you.â
âDarlinâ, you just did,â is all he says before he disappears out the door.Â
Please like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed. Feedback is appreciated and encouraged!
The Fanfic Writers of the SPN Fandom Discord Server is once again hosting our annual Kinktober and Fictober writing challenge!
For adults, you may use either, or both prompt lists! For anyone under the age of 18, you may only use the Fictober list!
You do not need to be a member of the Discord server to participate!
That's right! This event is open to EVERYONE! So long as you abide by the rules and post correctly, anybody is welcome to write along!
NEW FOR THIS YEAR: We are also accepting ART SUBMISSIONS!!! Please check the rules linked below for more information!
Here are our super awesome prompt lists!
ALL SHIPS ALLOWED INCLUDING OCs, X READER, AND SPN RPF
IMPORTANT LINKS!
Rules
If you would like to join our Discord server, click >>here<< for the invite! Again, it isn't required to participate, but if you did, that'd be super cool! We'd love to welcome you to the FFW Family!
Howdy! Here's the masterpost for our June monthly challenge entries for The Fanfic Writers of the SPN Fandom Discord Server! Go show these fics some love!
This month's prompts were:
Prompt 1: What better way to fight for equal rights and to celebrate pride than a pride parade? Write a fic with your favorite character(s) attending a Pride March. ,
Prompt 2: "Family don't end with blood." Acceptance and support can run thicker than blood. Write a fic with the Found Family trope. Bonus points if you can make it related to Pride Month!
Prompt 3: Sand under your toes, sipping on fresh lemonade. Don't forget your sunscreen when you write a fic about your favorite character(s) enjoying a day at the beach.
Want in on the fun? Join our Discord group! New prompts are dropped on the first of each month, when there are no other events for that month, and the minimum word count requirement is only 500 words! We'd love to welcome you into our family!
Priding In The Impala 2026 by @talltalesandbedtimestories
Rating: Teen And Up
Word Count: 1,926
Pairing: Gen
The boys get called in to help out with a case that Sandra and Kasey have researched. Dean's gonna have to be bait and show some pride in the process.
Link To Podfic featuring @sam-is-my-safe-word
Family Doesn't End In Blood by @spnbabe67
Rating: Teen And Up
Word Count: 2.9k
Pairing: Dean Winchester & Fem!Reader (Platonic)
After a disastrous meeting with your dad, you end up back at Bobby's and have a heart to heart with Dean
Weird, but nice by @hectatess
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 1,926
Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester
In a rare lull in between hunts, the boys decide to take a little vacation on the seaside.
Itâs going to be Castielâs first time at the beach, and Dean is not prepared.
Untitled by @fire-of-unknown-origin-fanfic
Rating: Teen and up
Word Count: 1,170
Pairing: Dean x Female OC
That is, considering Dean knows how to relax for a minute. Wrote it as an independent detour, following the main story of my fic Fire of Unknown Origin!
If You Don't, You're Gonna Regret It by @flanneledfae
Chapter Tags/Warnings: Angst, graphic descriptions of gore/violence, graphic descriptions of injuries, near-death experience/perilous situation(s), explicit description of self-harm scars, pain utilized to stop a panic attack (fingernails cutting into palms), first-aid on self including stitches, Crowley being Crowley, mental health struggles, language
Chapter Summary: As yet another diversion, Crowley forces Tori to hunt down Juliet's pup while the boys continue their search
Word Count: 8.9k
Author's Note: Title from Take Me Back to Eden by Sleep Token
Tag List: @copperboom82 @zepskies @immastealurkneecaps
Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Tori slid on the slick cobblestone floor, her hip smarting and chest heaving in oxygen as she scrambled behind a wall.Â
A golden shield lay discarded at her side, an inhuman growl echoing on the stone. It was followed by the muted thud of steps prowling closer. Sweat clung to her skin and blood leaked through her cargo pants from slowly healing cuts on her legs. More trickled slowly down her arms.
She scrambled to grab the shield, and within her silent and desperate pleas to whoever was out there, all she could think was:
If I get out of here, I am going to burn them alive
12 Hours EarlierÂ
âWe still havenât heard from Cas, right?â Sam asked Dean.Â
Dean looked up from his place at one of the tables in the Bunkerâs library. âNada. It would be nice for the guy to check in every once in a while.â
Sam huffed a laugh. âYeah, itâs probably hard to do that if you arenât on this plane of existence.â
He looked around, âWhereâs Tori? Thought sheâd be out here.â
âShower, I think,â Dean answered, flipping to the next page of the newspaper he had been looking through for new cases when Sam came in. âShe should be out here soon.â
âFind anything?â Sam took the chair across from his brother, setting his laptop in front of him.
âNothingâs jumpinâ out at me. We may have better luck lookinâ stuff up online.â
Sam shrugged. âI mean, itâs only been two weeks since we got back from taking care of the kelpie. We donât need to jump right back out there. Especially if itâs not our thing.â
âDonât let Tori hear you say that.â Dean half joked.Â
When she wasnât scouring the news for cases, the huntress had taken it upon herself to work on the Fury. Heâd ordered parts for it to the P.O. box they had set up in town, but one of them was on backorder and wouldnât be here for at least a few more weeks, which meant downtime.Â
Dean sighed contentedly into his coffee. It wasnât often they got slow mornings like this. Growing up, there was no such thing, but with finding the Bunker, it was easier to slow things down and relax. To enjoy a slice of normalcy.Â
No check out timesânot that they ever really adhered too strictly to those anywayâand no room fees or loud neighbors fucking or fighting on the other side of paper thin walls at all hours.
âSquirrel, Moose. Just the denim wrapped nightmares I was looking for.â
It was peaceful, except for the demons who tended to show up out of nowhere demanding things, that is.Â
âFuck off, Crowley,â Dean groaned. âNo, we donât have any leads, and yes weâve been trying.â
The demon slipped his hands into the pocket of his black slacks. âSquirrel, you wound me. I canât just show up to have a chat?â
âNo,â Sam and Dean said in unison.Â
âRadio silence for weeks and you just decide to show up and chat?â Dean said. âNothingâs ever that simple with you.â
Crowley shrugged as if saying âfair enoughâ. âWell, as you said, I was checking to see if youâve made any progress on our mutual problem, but it seems you both have started to lose your touch.â
Every word out of the demonâs mouth was like nails on a chalkboard to Deanâs ears. The very fact that they were in league with the fucker made his blood pressure skyrocket more than he would like to think about.
His knuckles ached to crack across Crowleyâs face; the knowledge that heâd probably be killed in an instant if he did was the only thing keeping him from doing so.Â
âWell, itâd be a lot easier if you gave us something to work with,â Sam interjected.
âWhat, preserving human life isnât enough motivation, Moose? Whenâd youâd get so heartless?â
âNot what I meant,â Sam grumbled.Â
âBesides,â Crowley continued, ignoring Sam. âI did give you something to work with. I sent you on that vampire hunt, didnât I?â
Dean went still at that. A blink. Then another. Blood rushed in his ears and he could barely hear himself when he finally spoke.Â
âYouâŚyou knew? That she was going to be there?â
A serpentine smile painted itself on Crowleyâs face, equal parts smug and self-assured. Itâs all the answer Dean needed, but as per usual, the demon canât keep his mouth shut.
âOf course I knew. Despite all your righteous indignation, a little tail is all that takes to get you going. From what I hear, sheâs pretty easy to get into.â
Red flooded his vision, and Dean was on his feet before he could stop to think rationally about what he was doing.
His fingers dug into the sides of Crowleyâs neck, feeling the steady beat of the demonâs pulse beneath his fingers, warm and taunting.Â
âDonât you dare talk about her that way,â Dean snarled, sinking his fingers in deeper.Â
The sound of wood scraping against wood rang out in the library as Sam shot to his feet. âDean! Don't!"
âGet the knife, Sam,â Dean called out to him, an enraged expression leveled at the demon in his grasp.
Crowleyâs face had grown into a deeper red, but his arrogance remained. âListen to your brother, Squirrel. Remember, I can snap her pretty little neck from across the bunker. I can clap my hands, and all innocent lives you saved will be snuffed out..."
A raspy breath, and Crowley lifted his hand shakily. âJustâŚlikeâŚâ
With a frustrated yell Dean shoved him away, hands instantly curling into fists to replace the conduit of anger. The demon coughed, rubbing the front of his neck where a red handprint had already started to make itself known.Â
âKnew you couldnât do it,â Crowley wheezed. âYou Winchesters. So soft.â
âWhat the Hell?â
Dean felt his heart drop into his stomach as Toriâs voice came from the direction of the hall. Her brows had pulled together in confusion, glancing between the three of them.Â
No, no, no. Why couldnât you have stayed away just a little longer?
âWere your ears burning, love?â Crowley asked with all the suaveness of a serpent. âWe were just talking about you.â
Tori made a sound of disgust as she stalked forward, the dutch braid down the center of her head swinging with each step. âI donât want to know.â
âTori, go back to your room,â Dean said harshly, perhaps a bit more so than he had meant.Â
She cocked her head in his direction. âSince when do you give me orders?â
âTori, please,â he tried again, putting everything into the words, trying to convey just how desperate he was for her to listen.
It must have worked at least a little bit, her stride shortening halfway to the tables where they were.Â
âOn the contrary, Squirrel,â Crowley cut in, stepping towards her. âIt was our sweet T-bird here I was looking for.â
âOh no,â Tori huffed, coming to a halt. âAbsolutely not, you creepy fuck. You keep me out of whatever shady-ass dealings youâve got going on.â
She was putting up a good front, but even Dean could tell she was scared. The blink-and-you-miss-it waver in her voice, how her hand hovered around her hip where she would normally have her knife holstered.Â
Only, this morning it was noticeably absent; no sheath was buckled into the loops of her black cargo pants. A black spaghetti strapped tank clung to her upper half like she couldnât decide if she wanted to be comfortable or practical.Â
âUnfortunately my dear, I am in need of services only you can provide.â Crowley gestured to Dean and then to Sam. âAnd these two are a bit busy looking for our mutual enemy.â
Dean felt stuck in place. With Crowley between them, he stood no chance of getting her away from the demon. One wrong move and she could be dead before he even made it one step. He looked sidelong at Sam to find his brother already looking at him.Â
Get her outta here, Sammy. Iâll take care of the rest.Â
It was a split second silent interaction, but Dean knew Sam got the message. His brotherâs expression hardened, looking away to Tori, assessing just how fast he could get to her before all Hell broke loose.Â
Everyone moved at once.Â
Sam shot forward towards Tori, arm outstretched aiming to drag her away. Tori, face twisted in defiance, aimed herself at Crowley, moving fast. Dean forged forward, cocking his arm out with every intention to slam his fist into Crowleyâs face.Â
The demon was faster, though, vanishing and reappearing besides Tori.Â
âNo!â Dean shouted as Crowley gripped her bicep.Â
âIâll bring her back, donât you worry,â Crowley gave a small wave with his other hand.Â
Then they were both gone, leaving the sound of silence in their wake.Â
Tori felt like she was falling.
Her stomach lurched in the way it does when gravity takes hold. If she didnât know better, she would have said sheâd gone blind. Nothing but darkness surrounded her as she fell, the phantom wind whipping past her strangely hot like she was plummeting into a volcano.
A hand, presumably Crowleyâs, still gripped her right bicep, though the manâs hand barely made it half way around the muscle. When she looked, she couldnât even see her own body, let alone the disembodied grip on her.
This is not how I expected to die, she thought. Not the way I would have chosen, either.Â
She didnât have the slightest idea of how long she felt like theyâd been falling when solid ground reappeared under her feet. Dizziness kicked in as she opened her eyes.
Stone bit into her knees as she fell forward onto her hands, swallowing back the nausea that came with the spinning of her surroundings.Â
âWhatâŚtheâŚfuck?â Tori panted, trying to regain control over her body again.Â
âWelcome to Hell,â Crowley said, ignoring her question.Â
She felt him walk past her, and once she felt the room stop spinning around her, she glanced up. Theyâd landed in what looked to be some kind of throne room. Or, rather, heâd deposited them here.Â
âThis? ThisâŚis Hell?â She asked skeptically, sitting back on her heels.Â
Crowley slumped into a throne positioned on a slightly raised dais, the frosted panes of glass in the windows above his head revealing nothing of what was beyond the room.Â
âA small part of it,â he answered, though it left her with more questions than it clarified.Â
His eyes fell upon her, and a shiver of disgust slithered down her spine as she realized the position she was in. She stood up faster than she had probably her entire life, resisting the urge to dust her knees off.Â
âWhereâs the rest of it?â Tori asked, looking around the room at the carved pillars and candle stands casting a flickery glow into the room, the fireplace on the far end of the room providing warmth.Â
Hell must not have electricity. I donât really know why I was expecting there to be, really.
âYou mean the torture racks, the firey pits, the screams of the damned?â He said, amused.Â
She was about to say something snarky back, but she hadnât realized until he said something that there were no screams. It was quiet, save for the subtle creaks and groans just like a normal structure would have. The sticks and logs in the fireplace crackled and popped as they burned to ash.Â
âYeah,â she said slowly, the word drawn out as she looked back at the demon lounging on the throne. âThat.â
âWell, Dante had to get the idea of there being 9 circles from somewhere,â he answered, speaking like it was obvious. âBut itâs more like 5-ish.â
âRight,â Tori nodded like it made sense. Nothing about hunting really did if she thought long enough about it, but sheâd been able to avoid the existential crisis thus far. âSo why did you bring me here? And donât tell me you were practicing your method acting for a retelling of Hades and Persephone.â
Crowley stared at her for a second longer than Tori would have liked. Something was turning in that vicious head of his, and Tori knew she wouldnât like whatever came out on the other side of it.
He propped an elbow on the arm rest, crossing ankle over knee. âYou know, Iâm starting to see why Squirrel likes you.â
Toriâs face crinkled. âWhat? Who the hell is Squirrel?â
Crowley waved a dismissive hand. âThatâs inconsequential at the moment. You asked why you were here and I have better things to be doing.â
A snarl so deep it rattled her bones emanated from behind her, followed by the click of nails on stone. Every hair on her body stood on end as it prowled closer, and Tori had to keep her hand from jerking away as fur brushed her hand.
It snuffled at her pants, its snout pressing into the outside of her thigh with curiosity.Â
Slowly, and without moving her head, Tori looked down. She could have sworn her heart stopped beating when she made eye contact with the hound.
It was somewhere between a pit bull and a German shepherd; taller than any dog had a right to be, its back parallel with her hip. Luscious fur that looked just as soft as it felt covered its body, but its muzzle was shorter and wider.
Better bite force, she realized with a shiver.
It huffed, then sneezed, then continued forward, its tail wagging all the way. Toriâs hand drifted to her chest, fingers tracing the barely healed scar on her sternum from the last time she came that close to a dog-like beast.
âThis is Juliet,â Crowley explained, petting the hounds head.Â
The growling turned softer, something more affectionate as the beast nuzzled into her master's palm.Â
âUh huh,â Tori said. âCute.â
âShe is, isnât she? Sheâs also a mother.â
Tori nodded, growing more impatient by the second. âMhm. Still not seeing your point.â
His hand stilled on the hounds head, and Juliet, as if sensing her master's slight displeasure, whined quietly.
âDidnât your mother ever teach you patience?â Crowley asked with a raised brow.
She knew she should stop, that she should take the glint in his eye as a warning, not a challenge. But being wise nor suppressing her pride had ever been easy. It was a fond memory, her mother trying to get her to âact rightâ.Â
Clearly, it never stuck.Â
But it was bigger, deeper, than pride. That bravado, the posturing, it was all she could do to shove down every bit of fear that was flooding her nerves like a toxin.
She was sure it seeped through her pores anyway, the sour scent no doubt being picked up by Juliet who was looking more pup than beast at the moment.Â
The even more terrifying thought that Crowley could see, or god forbid smell it on her too? Well, she didnât entertain it any longer than it took for it to crop up in her brain. Instead, she pushed past it, fortifying the walls of swagger she tended to up around most.Â
âOh, she did,â Tori shrugged flippantly, with hope it was convincing enough. âI just didnât listen.â
A pause as Crowley considered her rebuttal. Tori tensed, waiting for agony or death to follow.Â
It never came, though. He resumed stroking Julietâs silken fur.Â
âWell, we canât all be saints, can we?â He mused. âIn any way, Julietâs pup is no saint either. It seems the little bastard has gotten himself lost on one of the other Levels. The demons at my behest are cowards on their good days, which leaves you, my dear.â
The dots connected. Her mouth fell open a bit and she glanced between the demon perched on his throne and the hound at his side. Juliet had started to pant a little, and in doing so, Tori could see fangs larger than any dog should have in its mouth.
âYou..want meâŚto hunt down and capture a Hellhound puppy?â Tori asked slowly.
âYou werenât joking when you said you donât listen.â
âJust how do you expect me to capture it? My specialty is killing those kinds of things, let alone the fact that I am human! How am I to fare any better than your cronies?â
Crowley scoffed quietly, like the answer to her questions were obvious and she was a moron for even posing them. He adjusted the cuffs on his suit jacket, Juliet letting out a huff of displeasure at the loss of his touch.Â
âYou know your Greek mythology, yes?â He asked, referencing her mention of Hades and Persephone. âThen you know the myth of the Labors of Heracles, and how he captures the mighty Cerberus?â
Tori nodded. English Lit had been one of her favorite classes in high school alongside shop and autos. All Aâs, even into college Gen Edâs. She never could have guessed how useful it would become.Â
A second passed, then Crowley snapped his fingers. An oval, golden shield appeared on the floor in front of her, a snarling lionâs head depicted on the front.Â
âItâs no Nemean lion hide, but it will give you strength and invulnerability, to a point,â he explained.
âTo a point?â Tori repeated, eyeing the shield. âThe fuck does that mean?â
âI canât have things too easy for you, can I?â Crowley shrugged. âYouâve got a reputation to uphold after all. And I cannot have you running around Hell unchecked.â
So Iâm capturing a fucking Hellhound with nothing but my bare hands. By myself. In Hell. What the absolute fuck has my life come to?
Her life hadnât felt like her own in a while, and this? It wasnât helping the existential crisis.Â
âIâll be around, so once youâve got him, just give a shout.â
Tori crouched down, slipping her arm through the straps of the shield. She was expecting some rush or tingling. Something that would confirm what Crowley said was the truth.Â
But there was nothing.
Just as she stood straight and looked up at Crowley, her mouth open with questions, that stomach dropping sensation of falling started again.Â
The last thing she saw before she started to fall into darkness, was the smug look on the demon's face as he waggled his fingers at her in parting.
Wherever Crowley had whisked her away to, it didnât look much different from the throne room she had just been in. She was dropped in what looked like a foyer, three hallways spanning out around her; two entryways on her left and right, and one in front of her.Â
Sconces were lit down each hallway and in the room which she currently stood, casting a buttery-soft glow onto the crude stonework. It was nearly identical to the masonry in the throne room.
Surely he hadnât whisked her away simply to another part of, well, wherever it was Crowley lived.Â
The shield was at least still strapped to her arm. It was lighter than she expected it to be, though maybe, hopefully, Crowley wasnât full of shit and it did have some supernatural ability. She twisted her arm, the golden metal catching the light on every detail.Â
A solid, slow, dripping emanated from somewhere, echoing hollowly against the walls in the otherwise deafening silence.
It was maddening, crawling under her skin. A familiar sense of hopelessness opened up a yawning pit in her stomach and Tori contemplated her surroundings andâby extensionâher options.Â
She blew a breath out her mouth, swiveling to either side and peering down each hallway, hands on her hips. The paths curved out of sight not far past their entryways, save for the one that lay in front of her. That one at least continued on straight for longer before turning harshly.Â
In reality, it wasnât much different from where she and the Winchesters sat with their problems. A goal with nowhere to go, no honing into what path they should take and sorely underprepared for what lay ahead. There was no such light at the end of the tunnel for her, not that she could see anyway, in either situation.Â
Faintly, she recognized her heart racing, her breath coming in shallow pants.Â
Hell. She was in Hell all by herself with a shield that would maybe be her saving grace.Â
The hallways around her started to fade, leaving nothing but the squeezing in her chest and the trembling in her body.
Move, I need to move. I need to move beforeâ
She was walking down the left hall before she could even finish the thought, fingernails dug so deep into her palm it was a wonder there wasnât blood trickling down onto her fingers.Â
The goosebumps on her arms were equal parts nerve and chill, the dampness oozing from the stones soaking into her body. It all came back in to focus slowly, like colors bleeding into a black and white film. Any forward momentum was better than inertia, no matter how blindly she stumbled forth into the unknown.
Presuming this is even the level the dog is lost on, Iâve got to run into it eventually, right? It canât be that big.
Oh how wrong she was.
Her watch had stopped working the moment Crowley had stolen her away to Hell, but she checked it anyway. Itâd felt like sheâd been walking for an eternity down the same hallway to the point sheâd started to seriously consider that maybe this whole ordeal was simply a fever dream when the wailing started.
At first it was soft and mournful, hauntingly drifting down the hallway, but the further she advanced, the screaming grew demonic, the voices drenched in agony and ire.Â
Turning yet another corner, the shrieks pierced her ears, and Tori could see their origin. Cells with wrought iron doors replaced solid brick walls sheâd started to become accustomed to. Some were open, their cells empty. Others, though, had ghoulish hands wrapped around the bars and as she crept closer, faces came into view.Â
Features sunken into their skulls, their faces were twisted in eternal wrath. Darkness sat in the pits where their eyes should be, skin pale and wrinkled. Mouths with missing teeth snarled at her as Tori picked up her pace, braving the corridor. What teeth still sat in their jaws were black and rotted, dark liquid spilling from the empty spaces and down their chins.
ThisâŚthis was the Hell she had been expecting. Tortured souls in cages, screams of the damned. All that was missing was the firey pits and the racks.Â
Sheâd always known sheâd end up here, in Hell, even before everything that had happened with Alice. Weekly trips to Mass on Sundays and, more often than not, on another night during the week if things were particularly rough had her realizing early on no matter how pious her mother wanted her to be, she wouldnât be seeing those pearly gates when she punched her ticket.Â
More than once as a child sheâd woken up from dreams of flames licking at her skin to wet sheets. Sheâd outgrown the bedwetting, but the dreams had stayed, varied in their visions.
A panicked yelp slipped past her lip when a gnarled and bony hand shot between the bars. The soulâs spindly fingers, paper thin skin pulled taut across the knuckles, wrapped around her forearm. For what little muscle remained, the soulâs grip was surprisingly bruising.Â
Klaxon bells peeled loudly through her and Tori tried to pull her arm back from its grasp. The soul howled, the sound worse than a bansheeâs, and pain blossomed from the inside of her wrist. Another harsh yank, putting a little more effort in the swing of her body and the soul lost purchase on her limb.Â
The action wasnât without consequence, however.Â
Tori cried out as its yellowed nails left angry cuts in their wake. Distracted by the pain, she didnât realize the momentum needed to pull herself free was maybe a little too overzealous until she was falling backwards, the uneven floor sending her careening backwards into the waiting clutches of the souls on the other side of the hallway.
Her back hit the unforgiving metal of a cage and almost immediately multiple sets of hands sunk into her body.
Adrenaline was pumping harder through her veins now, blotting out the sharp stabs of nails into her shoulders and biceps.
Wide-eyed, Tori lashed out violently. Her blows were uncoordinated and messy, but effective nonetheless.
Only once she was shaking and out of breath with no hands on her skin did she scramble back to the very center of the hallway, too far out of reach from either side.Â
The screeching was nearly unbearable now, and Tori wondered if some of the blood splashed onto her face was from her ears. Using her shoulder, she wiped the droplets from her cheek, eyes scanning for any other potential threats.Â
They stopped on one of the cell doors and disbelief rattled through her.Â
A huge dent had been smashed into the metal, the concavity just about the size of her body. Slowly, she looked down at the shield on her arm. Maybe it was just the light, but the brass seemed to dully glow like it was waking up from a long slumber.
HuhâŚhow about that, Tori laughed to herself and she wasnât deaf to how unhinged it was. It was a sound steeped in exhaustion that ran deeper than what lay in her body.Â
Crimson leaked from cuts on her arm, and it itched from where it spilled from punctures and scratches on her shoulders and back, dampening her tank top along with her sweat. It gathered along her skin, beads catching in the baby hairs along her forehead.Â
Hidden within the anger, Tori could pick out the distinctive notes of grief in the soulsâ cries, and they reverberated a little too far into her chest like a full metal round through flesh and bone.
They had been human, and they werenât far enough gone to be demons yet; suspended in limbo, and she wondered if they knew what awaited them at the end of that journey.Â
Sticking to the center of the hallway this time, far from the soulsâ reach, she avoided any further incidents the rest of the way.Â
She didnât stop moving, stop walking. Just feet to stone over and over not really thinking while navigating the twisting hallways. Not one part of her even knew how to look for the Hellhound, and she supposed the Winchesters were rubbing off on her more than she would like because she was going into this with less than half a plan.Â
Not that she really had a choice for that in the first place.
She counted her blessings, though, that at least in Hell she could see them. The beasts being invisible to the human eye on the Earthly plane was void here.Â
It made sense; this was their home plane, and every soul here was damned including their own. There was no biological or strategic reason to hide, and as far as she knew, they were an apex predator with no natural predators of their own.Â
Not that it made them any less terrifying. Juliet in all her glory had her nearly shitting her pants when the beast snuffled at her. It didnât really help that sheâd nearly been gored by a distant cousin of the Hellhound not that long ago and was still reeling from that experience.
To her surprise, the wounds that had been leaking droplets of blood like little rubies were nearly healed. It wasnât quite the invulnerability sheâd been promised, but sheâd take anything.Â
After one too many dead ends, sheâd wandered her way into an open room, larger torches mounted on the walls to fill the space with light. More hallways shot off from the room like legs on a spider, their lengths unknown.
A particularly strong gust of wind tore at her, the air warm and dry, and Tori looked up. Her lips parted in shock as the walls that should have reached up had crumbled away, leaving no ceiling above her head and exposed what she could only assume was the sky.Â
Muted red and green mottled clouds roiled angrily, joined by the occasional flash of dulled yellow light like lightning, though no sound of thunder followed. It was like the colors had been drained of their vibrance, sucked dry by the oppressive nature of the atmosphere.Â
It was kind of beautiful, Tori decided, in the kind of fucked up way one might find beauty in violence; You know you arenât supposed to, but you do anyway. Keep it a dirty little secret and only indulge when you are well and truly alone.
Her fingers itched for her sketchbook and the set of oil pastels she rarely broke out of the storage locker because she never knew when sheâd have the money to replace them once she used them up. She knew sheâd never truly capture its likeness, but shit, she wanted to try.Â
Itâd been a hot minute since sheâd touched the book with anything, let alone pastels. Whatever she tried to create would no doubt look like hot shit, but in time itâd get better. It always did. She just had to knock off the rust and everything would be right as rain.Â
But she didnât have her art supplies.
All she had was a shield on her arm and what little determination borne of generational stubbornness.Â
Usually the latter was enough, but when a deep growlâdeeper than the Snarly Yowâ resounded from the hallway to her left, Tori lost faith that even that could save her now.Â
The hound was huge. Tori wasnât even sure how it managed to squeeze its way through the halls.Â
Puppy my ass, she scoffed to herself, turning to face the beast, its back nearly level with her waist. It was bigger than Juliet, but not quite as large as the Snarly Yow.Â
For that one, at least, sheâd had a gun.
How the fuck am I supposed to subdue this bastard? What am I gonna do, sing it a lullaby and hope it rolls over for me to scratch its belly?!
Its eyes glowed red and they were honed in directly on her. There was a time Tori was convinced she could fight anything, could kill anything, but not anymore. Not after what sheâd seen, and especially not now.Â
Holding up her hand, she tried to keep her voice from shaking. âI donât suppose youâre gonna make this easy for me, huh?â
An even angrier snarl was her only response, and all Tori could do was nod. I suppose I deserve that.Â
Her eyes darted around, looking for anything that could be useful. And okay, maybe plotting some kind of escape route because shit was definitely going to go sideways here in the next few minutes if she couldnât come up with something.Â
The shield worked, that much she did know. But the fucking thing didnât keep her from being hurt, and while it healed her faster, something told her it wouldnât even extend to the point of saving her life. And it wouldnât take much for the fucking Fido standing across from her licking itâs chops to do so.Â
Tori bent her legs at the knees slightly, taking a deep breath. It was clear she wasnât equipped to face this thing head on, so she needed to figure out some other way of getting her arms around the hounds neck.Â
An idea struck, and while every fiber of her being balked like a horse in a storm at it, nothing better was popping up.Â
âHey, fucker!â Tori called to the hound, watching it cock its head at her. âFollow me!â
And without a second thought, Tori turned on her heel and ran.Â
Everything was a blur around her.
Thereâs nothing conscious about the way Tori sprinted down the hallways, the lights passing by what felt like too fast to be normal. Deciding to chalk it up to the adrenaline high, Tori let her body guide her.
The thundering of massive paws was way too close for comfort, but she could tell she was already pushing herself to her limit.Â
The first corner nearly took her out. There wasnât enough time between her recognizing the obstacle and having to actually execute the actions necessary to pass said obstacle.Â
Too late she tried to slow down and instead nearly collided face first into the wall. There was no doubt in her mind that if she somehow managed to get out of this alive, that no part of her would be anything less than black and blue.Â
Building up the momentum again, nothing felt dislocated in her shoulder, but there wasnât much she could do at this point if it was.
Tori ducked her head as everything around her shuddered. She couldnât help but laugh to herself, assuming the Hellhound made the same exact miscalculation she did. It would slow the beast down a little, but she didnât count on it giving her that much of a lead, not with its too-long legs.Â
Instinct drove her forward, the burn in her lungs barely on the radar, neither was the tightness towards the tops of her thighs with every step propelling her down the hallway at what seemed like breakneck speeds.Â
Running as a hobby really only came about when she started hunting. Sports in general were a staple in her school years, but that really only extended to soccer. Similar, but sprinting for her life really had its own kind of special kick. And sprinting while trying to remember in which direction she came from was its own kind of Olympic level event.Â
Every fixture on the wall looked the same, every winding turn a near carbon copy of the one before. Nothing about any part of this entire ordeal was anything she could put stock in, and the fact that sheâd lasted this long was a surprise to her core. It was not a welcome feeling.Â
It was only when the wailing started up again did she allow a little bit of relief slip through. The high pitched screams never sounded so sweet, and Tori willed herself to go even faster.Â
The entire plan was batshit crazy, and there was little faith that she wouldnât get ripped to shreds like she nearly had been an hour ago in the process.Â
Crowley had forbade her from hurting the beast, but heâd said nothing about anything else hurting it along the way. Yet another assumption she felt less than sure on: the souls could maim the Hellhound in the first place.Â
But if Tori was a betting womanâand she wasâshe would bet that they could do something, and that something would weaken it just enough for her to disable it and get Crowley to bring his creepy ass down here to retrieve them both.Â
Their arms were already stretching through the bars of their cells when Tori whipped around the corner that would lead her to the corridor of tortured souls. The screams were somehow worse now than they had been the first time she blew through here.Â
Riled up by all your racket, probably, she thought to herself as she listened for the Hellhound bounding after her. Well, Mamma always said I was too loud.
For its size, the hound was nimble. Itâd kept up with her with relative ease, and it wasnât more than a few seconds before the rumbling of its clamoring met her feet.
âThatâs right. Right this way,â Tori murmured to herself, hopping back a few steps before whirling around and dashing down the hall.Â
The first hallway was a breeze. Their arms werenât quite long enough to reach her, and the small break had provided a bit of air back into her seizing lungs. But the pause had also lost her valuable distance. The stench from the hounds' breath wafted after her and the heat from its maw nipped at her heels.
A pang of guilt struck her in the heart when she heard a yip from behind her followed by the faint sound of flesh tearing, the pup not as lucky as sheâd been in avoiding the souls claws.Â
She didnât slow. She doubted that the first hallway would do much damage, but it did prove her sketchy theory correct: It could be hurt.Â
The second hallway narrowed in width, and that was where the problems started.Â
Distracted by how close the beast had managed to get despite being injured, Tori failed to stick to the very center of the hallway. Maybe the particular soul had long, gangly arms. Either way, a hand shot out between the iron bars and landed solidly on her shoulder.Â
Not even adrenaline could mask the agony that sliced through her skin. Without stopping, Tori knew between her speed and the state of the nails on the soulâs hand, the gashes were deep. Maybe deeper than the ones sheâd received earlier.Â
Blood spurted from her arm, spreading warmly down to her hand. She didnât even have time to cry out nor correct the path sheâd been shoved on. Balance thoroughly thrown off, she careened to the other side and into the waiting clutches of the souls there.Â
Unlike last time, she was able to keep moving albeit with little coordination. Red hot knives slashed across her thigh and the edges of Toriâs vision darkened with agony. A guttural howl ripped its way out of her lungs, anger and pain weighing down each of her steps.
Cazzo! Cavolo, che male che fa!
She wasnât fully hobbled, but every step forward sent spikes of pain through her leg. It was nearly unbearable.Â
Gritting her teeth, and a few tears leaking down her cheeks, Tori forced herself onward. She had half a mind to simply toss the shield away; clearly it wasnât doing much for her. But, what it was doing, aka, keeping her from bleeding out from the deep gashes, was enough.Â
One more hallway. One more and then weâll see. It was a small comfort, but any goal would suffice. Otherwise Tori was sure sheâd drop to the floor and let the hound devour her. Anything would be better than this.Â
The hallway thinned again and more cuts joined the ones on her arm and leg. More yelps and whines followed closely behind her. Tori blinked, the edges of her vision going fuzzy as blood continued to pour out of the slashes on her arm.Â
It wasnât healing fast enough.Â
Preoccupied with trying to keep herself upright as she cleared the last hallway with souls and onto the next, she was caught completely off guard when her foot landed wrong on a loose stone in the floor.Â
Her entire body pitched forward as her ankle gave out. The impact rattled through her knees and her elbows, pain singing up her limbs like a tuning fork. She groaned, scrambling on her hands and knees to hide behind the curve of the hallway.Â
Blood and sweat covered her arms like a second skin and from the rip in her pants Tori could see more blood seeping into the dark fabric. How much, she didnât know, the black masking the spread of the flow.Â
With the force of her fall, the shield had been yanked from her arm and lay beside her. There was barely enough strength in her shaky arms to grab it and secure it back onto her forearm. It weighed a ton, now, no longer feeling like it was made of cardboard.Â
Between yelps, the Hellhound snarled after her. Like hers, its gait had slowed down significantly;Â Barely a walk, now.Â
Heart thudding wildly, Tori dared to peek her head around the corner. The Hellhounds fur was matted down in places, dark with blood. With what little coherence was left in her blood-loss-addled brain, a soft and satisfied smile made its way onto her face.Â
It had worked. Her bat-shit crazy plan had worked. Maybe sheâd gone a little insane in the process, but god knew there wasnât much sanity to lose to begin with.Â
Rallying what was left of her strength, Tori pushed herself to her feet. Hissing through the pain, she stumbled forward, readjusting the shield on her arm.
The hound snapped at her, but the resounding growl was significantly weaker. She pulled in a deep breath, much to her probably broken ribsâ dismay. Whatever she was about to do next, it wasnât going to be pretty.Â
Eyeing the razor sharp claws on the hounds' paws and the matching set of teeth covered in drool, Tori sent out a silent prayer to whatever beings were out there that could decide to take pity on her.
Realistically, she wasnât sure if that could even work in Hell. Itâd never really worked on Earth, so why would it work in possibly the most damned place in the universe? Out of habit, and maybe a bit of superstition, she did it anyway.Â
Please, donât let me die like this. And donât make me kill somethingsâ child.
The Hellhoundâs massive body shuddered, its sides rising and falling raggedly, but it made no move towards her.Â
Toriâs eyes narrowed, and she dared to inch forward.Â
It watched her intently, and as she took another step forward, it finally moved. Not towards her, though, but downwards. The pup lowered itself to a sit, and then with a heavy sigh, it plopped down onto its side with enough force to shake the foundation.Â
She could have wept. Exhaustion and relief that she didnât have to try and wrestle the dog washed over her like a much needed shower. A real shower sounded nice right about now.Â
And a strong drink or 5.Â
âYouâre just a big âol baby when youâre not murderous, huh?â Tori crooned as she knelt by the Hellhounds head.Â
Already she could see its cuts starting to heal, the skin beneath the heavy layers of fur stitching itself back together. Blood matted into the dark fur, but when Tori reached out to stroke the spot between the houndsâ ears and it was as soft as Julietâs had been.Â
Tori shook her head, trying to rid herself of the dizziness making the room spin. The hound let out a small whine, nudging her knee. Black spots dotted the edge of her vision, but she patted its head, savoring the warmth radiating from underneath her bloodsoaked palm. Cringing, Tori slid to the floor, sitting with her back against the wall, the cold stones making her shiver.
âIâm alright, fuzzball. I just need a second,â Tori said aloud. âCrowley, you better get your conniving ass down here before I bleed to death.â
The distant wailing of souls was all there was, their screams harmonizing with the irregular whooshing of her pulse. The pup whined again, nudging her leg harder this time. The wounds on her arms were starting to itch, a sign that they were healing, however slowly. Being Hell-born, the hound seemed to have a higher regeneration.Â
Fair enough, I am just a measly human after all.Â
âCrowley!â Tori yelled, this time. âCome fucking get us, you brutto figlio di puttana.â
âYou sure do have a mouth on you,â
Tori blinked and she was back in the throne room, still sitting with the hound's head in her lap. She didnât dignify him with a verbal reply. Instead, she lifted an unsteady arm up, flipping him off.Â
The demon simply smiled, amused at her action. âSure you donât want to stick around? Seems like Cerberus is attached to you.â
âMaybe we can schedule playdates,â she jibbed back with a less than amused expression. âJust take me the fuck home.â
She didnât have to ask twice.
Crowley must have used whatever decency he had because when the falling feeling came over her again, she ended up right next to the table in the War Room. The demon in question was thankfully absent, but the room wasnât empty.Â
Dean and Sam stood at the table, stacks upon stacks of books piled high on wood. The Demon Blade and an Angel Blade lay within the mess, and Tori could see the glint of Deanâs 1911 peeking out of the back of his jeans.Â
They looked like they were ready to go to war, but surely it wasnât for her, right?
Their stoic expressions melded into ones of shock as Tori wavered, then collapsed back into one of the chairs at the table.Â
âHello boys. Iâm baaack,â Tori said, slightly delirious and channeling her inner Randy Quaid from Independence Day.
She glanced down, shocked to see the Nemean Lion shield still on her arm. Her shoulder itched like crazy now as the deep part of the wounds knitted back together. A wave of nausea hit her, the vertigo making her feel like she was standing on a sailboat in a storm.
âHoly shit,â one of themâDeanâexclaimed. âSam, get the med kit.â
The shield slowly pulled away from her arm, and warm hands pressed to her arms. Tori damn near hissed in delight at the heat.Â
It was short lived comfort, though, as the hand migrated up to her shoulder. A whimper slipped out of her before Tori cut it off, digging her teeth into her lip as the hand put pressure on the wound.Â
Tori pried her eyes open to see Dean face to face with her. His hand encompassed her shoulder, and the warmth from his body was deliciously enticing.
She shook her head, trying to ignore that fact, which turned out to be a mistake as another wave of vertigo hit her like a truck. With a groan she leaned forward with the intent to brace her elbows on her knees.Â
âWoah, woah, woah. Tori, hey, stay with me,â Dean said, catching her before she could go too far.Â
She shoved at him, overcome by the swell of her pride. ââm fine.â
Dean scoffed. âNo, youâre not. You look like Hell, Tor.â
Tori batted his hands away, pleased when he finally backed off a little, shuffling back.Â
She needed to get to her room. Everything about him seeing her like this repulsed her. She didnât need their help. It was one more thing to be in their debt for. One more reason for her to stay at the end of all of it.Â
âThatâs cause I was in Hell, Dean.â
âIâm well fucking aware,â he waved his hand in front of her face. âHow many fingers am I holding up?â
She looked at his handsâat the three fingers he held upâthen at his face, then at his hand, then his face. âYou cannot be fucking serious right now?â
âYes I am fucking serious, Tori!â Dean half shouted at her. âAnswer the fucking question.â
Too much. Too much care, too much attention on her. The concern in his face was overwhelming, and Tori couldnât stand seeing her battered reflection in those green eyes of his.Â
He was right, she looked bad. Worse than she had after the Snarly Yow. The shield had mitigated most of the damage, keeping her from bleeding out, but thatâs all she needed from it. The rest sheâd do on her own.Â
âAll I fucking see, is a mother hen who needs to get the fuck out of my way,â she snapped, shooting up from the chair and pushing past Dean.
âHey!â Deanâs hand wrapped around her bicep, stopping her before she could walk past him. His grip was firm but mindful of the gashes on her shoulder.Â
He was close, or rather, she was close to him. Close enough she could smell his decadent aftershave and the tang of whiskey on his breath. Close enough to count the freckles on his cheeks and see every fleck of green in his irises.Â
Close enough to fear the authenticity of the worry told in the lines of his face. To fear what that meant. To hate it, with nearly every part of her being.
âLet go of me,â Tori said, her voice low. She wasnât sure Dean knew just how close she was to snapping.Â
âI got theâŚâ Sam trailed off, slowing to a halt at the entrance to the War Room, holding up the med kit in his hand.Â
It was enough of a distraction for Tori to wrench her arm from his grasp, breathing sharply through the pain the movement caused. She wouldnât give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it, nor the way her gait was uneven from the sharp pain still lingering at her thigh.
âThanks Sam,â Tori said, taking the med box from his hand on her way past him.Â
In her other hand, she snatched one of the bottles of Jameson from the cart where Dean stored all his liquor. No glass, no ice. She didnât need that shit. Just the burn and the blankness of the alcohol.
âIâll get you more eventually,â Tori called out over her shoulder, lifting the half full bottle.
In her underwear, Tori sat in front of the full-length mirror set up in her room, digging into the med kit. Thankfully, the damage was localized to her arm, shoulder, and her legs, though she was mostly sure a rib or two had broken or were fractured from her fall.
Her entire body felt like one gigantic bruise, a problem soon to be solved with the bottle of whiskey on the floor next to her.Â
Dousing a cotton ball in alcoholâand downing a few good swigs of whiskeyâTori took a deep breath and pressed the ball to her shoulder.
The stinging was somehow worse than the initial pain, but she kept it there, swiping away at the puffy skin. She was good and clean from the shower she'd taken as soon as she grabbed her clothes, but the little nagging voice in the back of her head told her to do it just in case.Â
Twisting in the mirror, a hint of regret for not accepting Deanâs help inched in as she tried to angle herself in a way she could properly see the wounds.Â
4 long cuts, their edges jagged, were carved into the upper part of her bicep, curving around to her back over her shoulder. Sheâd determined in the shower they werenât deep enough to need stitching, but placing that large of a piece of gauze was going to be just as difficult.
Burning gulps of whiskey punctuated every scissor snip as Tori cut the medical tape down to size. It took another good couple of swallows, but in the end, the tape held the gauze in place long enough for her to wrap the elastic bandage sheâd found coiled up at the bottom of the box, around her upper body, securing the whole MacGyver looking mess in place for now.Â
Maybe in the morning she would swallow her pride and ask one of the boys to rewrap it for her.
Probably not, though.Â
Tori grimaced, knowing the cuts on her legs were worse. Those ones needed stitchingâthe edges gaping and angry looking. She repeated the process, prepping the area with another cotton bud soaked in alcohol.Â
Her mouth twisted in quiet contemplation. The newest gashes were deep and red, the edges warm to the touch as she ran her thumb over them. Running her hand up her thigh, the motion was more soothing than observation.Â
Her fingers grazed neatly raised lines along the way, some white and thin or dark and thick and fully healed. Some were still scabbing over. No supernatural monster had put them there, just the sharp edge of a blade in her hand and too many sins to atone for.
Adorning both thighs, the scars were high up enough she could, in theory, wear shorts. Most of the time, though, she didnât risk it. All it would take was a moment of forgetfulness, of not paying attention to the hem of the pants and sheâd be bombarded with questions and worry.Â
She had lots of scars on her body, but those were the ones she was least proud of.
The needle and thread were familiar in her hand, as were the motions of pushing the needle through her skin, measuring the tension and knotting the sutures off, clipping the material neatly with the trauma shears from the box.Â
It took less time to sew her leg back together then it had to place the stupid bandage on her shoulder. And sheâd been sober for that.Â
More too-white gauze and elastic wrap went around her thigh, and Tori shut the med box. Sheâd replenish the stuff sheâd used eventually. Probably on her next run into town for cigarettes.Â
If her knees werenât stiff, all of her motions shallow and halting as she walked across her room to deposit the first aid box onto her desk for the morning, she would have taken her happy ass outside and smoked the rest in the carton. But the bed was calling her name, and who was she to deny its siren song.Â
Leaning back against the pillows, the rest of the whiskey went down smooth. It tingled along her skin, warming her belly while dulling every sharp edge of pain and misery.
Sheâd probably regret it in the morning, but that was a problem for the version of her that at that point would be a little more put together.Â
But for tonight, none of that mattered. Just sleep and the hope that tomorrow would be a better day.
Please like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed. Feedback is appreciated and encouraged!
Welcome to another Fic Feature for our latest WIP Wednesday winner, @samanddean76 !
Once a month in the Discord server, we run a WIP Wednesday event where you can win REAL prizes, just for adding words to your WIPs!
Want to join our fast growing, welcoming community of SPN authors over on Discord? Click here! We would love to have you!
Now, without further adoâour fic feature!
Well, I Never Been To Heaven
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Word Count: 23.6k
Dean Winchester is living a plain, ordinary, and boring life. Until one day a new student shows up in the little town of Spain, SD. Itâs love at first sight, but then an unimaginable tragedy happens, and Dean is left alone in his misery. Or is he a student attending Oxford University on a full athletic scholarship who finds a familiar face in his coxswain? Or is he hiking in the desert and attempting to save a known stranger? Or is he a traveler who stops for the night at a cheap motel and finds the pizza man of his dreams? Or is he none of those things? Just an unwitting victim of fate and destiny? Castiel had led the assault on hell, in order to save the righteous man and prevent the first seal of the apocalypse from being broken, lest hell should be allowed to reign on earth. In the aftermath of his disastrous mission, he is being held captive by Alastair, and his image is being used in a final, determined attempt to break Dean. But the profound bond that Castiel feels towards the pure soul wonât allow him to go down without a fight, and he makes a desperate prayer to his very old friend to set in motion a chain of events that might save him and his beloved mortal, or possibly, doom them for all eternity.
Omg, this fic absolutely wrecked me in the best way possible! Sal is a mastermind for how she wrote this fic, giving a totally new take on Dean's time in hell and what types of torture Alastair could have subjected him to. At first, youâre reading a super sweet AU storyline; like them meeting in high school, and you think it's just a cute romance. But then the rug gets pulled out from under you, and you realize itâs actually an incredibly dark, heartbreaking psychological torture happening to Dean while on the rack. It is such a creative idea and honestly blew my mind.
âThe bond between Dean and Cas in this is just everything; talk about PROFOUND BOND!!! This fic is literally the definition of that popular phrase for this ship because⌠damn. Even while Dean is being broken by Alastair, Cas is right there with him, using whatever power he has left to try and comfort him inside these fake dream worlds. It makes their connection feel so deep and spiritual, in a way. You can feel how much they care about each other, and seeing Deanâs actual trauma from his childhood bleed into the illusions made me want to cry for him so bad.
âAlso, Gabriel?! He completely steals the show when he enters the storyline and ends up being the (literal) saving grace for Cas and Dean. His banter is so funny and lightens the mood right when you need it. And the final chapter? The Destiel reunion is so sweet, a little bit smutty, and just so comforting after all the angst. If you love protective soulmate vibes, epic rescues, and a total happy ending, you need to go read this right now. Iâm so obsessed!
Please check out this hidden gem! And be sure to leave kudos and a comment! Support fandom creators!
The Fanfic Writers of the SPN Fandom Discord Server is once again hosting our annual Kinktober and Fictober writing challenge!
For adults, you may use either, or both prompt lists! For anyone under the age of 18, you may only use the Fictober list!
You do not need to be a member of the Discord server to participate!
That's right! This event is open to EVERYONE! So long as you abide by the rules and post correctly, anybody is welcome to write along!
NEW FOR THIS YEAR: We are also accepting ART SUBMISSIONS!!! Please check the rules linked below for more information!
Here are our super awesome prompt lists!
ALL SHIPS ALLOWED INCLUDING OCs, X READER, AND SPN RPF
IMPORTANT LINKS!
Rules
If you would like to join our Discord server, click >>here<< for the invite! Again, it isn't required to participate, but if you did, that'd be super cool! We'd love to welcome you to the FFW Family!
FanFiction Writers of the Supernatural Fandom [Reader Challenge 2026]
(Fanfiction) Writers love praise & attention! Interaction is the fuel that motivates us to create. Sadly, engagement is dwindling across fandom spaces. This Reader Challenge is a chance to give your fellow and favorite authors some well-deserved love. Support your creators and earn yourself a little reward in our Discord Server. Anyone can join, whether or not you are a member of our server â but prizes can only be claimed by members. Join our Discord here!
INFO & RULES:
The goal is to highlight as many fanfictions as possible. To do so, please reblog and comment on some amazing writing on Tumblr! Use the #FFWotSPNF Reader Challenge 2026 hashtag in your reblog. Add this little banner at the end of your reblog-comment to spread the love (Can also be found in the Discord Server):
If you need a little inspiration or are unsure what/how to comment, here are some possible guidelines: Fanfiction Comment Guide, 101 Comment Starters, Guide to Leaving Long and Detailed Comments, A Simple Guide To Not Being Afraid To Write Comments To Fic You Read. A general rule of thumb is: Even something short and simple like âI loved reading thisâ, a heart emoji, or even happy keyboard smashes are much appreciated. You donât have to write the perfect essay (but you are welcome to do so, if you want to).
At the end of this challenge, post a âReader Masterlistâ of all the fanfics you reblog-commented to Tumblr. It can look something like this, for example, but youâre free to shape it to your own liking. If you need help creating a masterlist, message Liane @chevroletdean or one of the mods. The only rules for the masterpost are as follows:
Include a link to this information post for our Discord Server somewhere in your Reader Masterlist.
Use the #FFWotSPNF Reader Challenge 2026 hashtag.
Submit the post to the #reader-challenge Discord channel (or tag @fanficwritersofthespnfandom on Tumblr).
The deadline is Friday 08/28/2026, 11:59 PM, CET.
The 9 Reader Challenge Prompts are the minimum, the list of which can be found below. There is no maximum. You are always welcome to reblog more than that â even stuff outside of the prompts.
The FFWotSPNF Reader Challenge 2026 is open to ages 15+. However, if you are a minor, we ask that you interact only with SFW material. Every adult participant must mark 18+ / NSFW content accordingly in their âReader Masterlistâ (for example, indicate adult content with a clear warning). Violation of this rule leads to exclusion from this event and a ban from our server!
The fanfictions can be of any length, about any ship (including reader and OC inserts), and of any genre.
Since we are a SPN community, the fanfictions should be within the Supernatural fandom or adjacent to it. RPF and fanfictions of fandoms that include SPN actors (for example The Boys, Walker, etc.) are also accepted.
READER CHALLENGE PROMPT LIST:
REWARDS:
Every participant who completes the list will get a customized badge posted in our Discord Server.
Every participant who completes the list will unlock a badge next to their Discord username
Every participant can win a prize. The more fanfics you reblog, the higher your chances are. The winner may choose one of the following prizes:
Fic Feature: One of the mods reads and gives a detailed review/promo of a fic you've written, of your choosing (max word count of 30k)
Custom server emoji (must be SFW)
Custom Art or Banner for your fic: @xpurdyglambertx does an art piece or banner for a fic of yours, of your choosing (as long as it isn't a squick for Liz)
The Fanfic Writers of the SPN Fandom Discord server hosts a monthly WIP Wednesday event, exclusive to server members! You can come work on any WIP you choose, yap with the coolest people, and have the chance to win REAL prizes! (art for a fic, a fic feature, custom emojis, and more!)
July's WIP Wednesday will kick off on the 1st at 12 AM, PST, and run for 24 hours!
Rules and details can be found >> HERE<<
Want in on the fun?! Come join us! We'd love to have you!
Check out the â˘âĄâ˘đđđŁđđđ đđ§đđŠđđ§đ¨ đ¤đ đŠđđ đđđ đđđŁđđ¤đ˘â˘âĄâ˘ community on Discord - hang out with 206 other members and enjoy free voice and text ch
