vamp!sam winchester x afab!reader x vamp!dean winchester
warnings: nsfw!! dubcon!! facefucking, dp, tied up, blood play(?), hunter/prey
synopsis: being a hunter had its perks, but when it comes to running into old partners that became vampires, isn't very lucky. hunting you down, you run for your life trying to escape them. they end up catching you, and you see that their fangs slowly become more elongated than usual..
author notes: happy halloween! that's a wrap on kinktober! thank you all SOOO much for the support and likes recently, it pushes me to actually want to write because people enjoy them! so, with that being said i have a bunch of fics planned for the future! i have NOOO tolerance for wincest, there is none of that in this.
The forest is alive with sound—every branch crackling, leaves crunching, your breath slicing through the cold night air. Every inhale burns, your lungs raw, throat tasting like rust and rain. You’ve been running for what feels like forever, legs heavy, heart pounding, but you don’t dare stop. Mud splatters your jeans, your face, your hands. There’s blood too—warm once, now sticky and half-dried on you. You don’t know if it’s yours or someone else's. You don’t want to know.
Then you hear it. Footsteps behind you. Quick, confident, too close. And a laugh—low, dark, and familiar. Dean’s laugh. You used to trust that sound, used to smile to it. Now it sends chills up your spine. There’s something wrong in it, something feral. As if the devil learned to smile.
You tried to save them, God, you tried. The Latin spells, blood wards, salt circles—everything you could remember, everything you could find. You tore through the lore until your eyes burned, until your fingers split open turning brittle pages.
Another snap of twigs, and an echo of a breath that isn’t yours. You stumble forward, chest splitting open with every gasp. Something makes you stop. Maybe it’s instinct. Maybe it’s the silence that follows, heavy and wrong. The forest feels as if it’s holding it’s breath.
You turn, eyes scanning the trees. The shadows move just enough to make your stomach drop. Every direction looks the same—black, endless, closing in. You take one hesitant step back, boots sinking into the wet ground. That’s when you hear it.
Footsteps. From your right. Then another, from your left.
Your pulse stutters. You whip around, trying to track the sound, knife raised, cross tight in your grip. The air feels colder now, thicker, and for a moment, you swear you can feel eyes on you—waiting. Watching.
Then, Dean’s voice slices through the dark, lazy and cruel. “C'mon, sweetheart,” he calls, his tone dripping amusement. “You’re makin’ us work for it.”
You spin again. The forest goes dead silent once again. No wind, no insects, and no heartbeats—except yours. Loud, human, terrified.
Then he steps out of the dark. Dean Winchester, but not the one you knew. His skin is too pale, veins shadowed blue beneath it. His eyes are still green—but the warmth is gone, replaced by hunger. Moonlight glints off the blood smeared around his mouth, streaked across his chin and down his neck like war paint. Some of it’s old, dried in dark patches. The rest is fresh—wet enough to glisten when he moves. His grin flashes fangs that catch the light like tiny blades, the red on his teeth shining dark in the glow. “Still cute when you’re scared,” he teases, voice sweet poison.
“Stay the hell away from me.” Your voice shakes, knife trembling in your grasp.
A rustle to your left. You whip your head toward it—Sam.
He steps out from between the trees, tall and silent, his expression unreadable. But the sight of him still knocks the air right out of your lungs. You used to see kindness, warmth, life in those eyes. Now they’re all hollow. Cold.
And you see the blood staining his face too. It’s worse on him. It stains his mouth and jaw, smeared up across his cheeks like he’d tried to wipe it away and gave up halfway. A dark trail runs down his throat, soaking into the collar of his shirt.
“Dean,” Sam states, tone flat. “Stop playing. End it.”
Dean glances over to Sam. “Always so cold, Sammy. Where’s your sense of fun anymore?”
Your heart hammered loud enough for both of them to hear it. Dean tilts his head, listening. “Hear that, Sammy?” He grins wider, pressing a finger to his ear in mock delight. “That little heartbeat says ‘run.’”
For a second, his grin falters. Just enough for you to catch a flicker of something else—something that isn’t hunger. But before you can name it, he takes a slow step forward, boots sinking into the damp earth with a soft squelch.
You lift the cross, hand shaking. “I said stay back.”
Dean chuckles, low and dangerous. “You really think that’s gonna stop me?”
The world tips sideways before you can take a breath. A blur of movement, the smell of blood and and wet earth— and Sam’s cologne, faint and familiar. You were suddenly on the ground; the knife torn from your grip. The air rushes from your lungs. Mud pressed cold against your cheek as weight pins you down.
Sam straddles you with eerie precision, one hand locking around your wrist, the other pressing down on your shoulder. His face doesn’t change, his eyes are empty glass. “Stop fighting,” he says.
You thrash anyway, every muscle screaming. Your free hand clutching the cross so tightly it digs into your palm, the edges biting into skin.
You twist beneath Sam’s weight, swinging the cross up towards him, desperate to make contact. It grazes the side of his neck, and the reaction is instant. His skin sizzles beneath it, the smell of scorched flesh filling the night wind.
Sam jerks back with a painful hiss. The movement loosens his grip just enough for you to wrench one wrist free, your breath coming in ragged gasps. But before you can strike again, Dean’s boot slams down, kicking it from your grasp. The cross flies from your grasp, landing somewhere in the trees with a dull thud.
“Nice try,” Dean drawled. He crouched beside you, his shadow spilling over your face. You looked up at him—the veins along his throat pulsed, dark and thicker now. His fangs were extended fully, gleaming white in the moonlight. It wasn’t just thirst; you heard something about this before when reading up on vampire lore. The elongating of his fangs were a sign of dark, primal arousal. The sight of you, terrified and at their mercy, had aroused him in the most visceral way possible.
Dean’s smile curves wider when he sees the realization flicker across your face. He can practically see the thought forming, the way your fear tangles with disbelief. His laugh is low, humorless, crawling beneath your skin. “I can see that pretty little brain of yours working,” he says softly, his tone almost affectionate in it’s cruelty. He drags his thumb along your jaw, slow enough to make you flinch.
His eyes flicked down at your chest, smashed against the muddy ground. He could practically smell the adrenaline pumping through your veins, hear your heart hammering against your rib cage like a trapped animal desperate to escape. “Realize what you’ve done to me, right?” He asks, making your skin crawl.
You let out a scream, loud and blood-curdling, hoping that someone, anyone, might hear your distress. But, Dean silenced you swiftly. He clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling any further sounds. His cold, dead fingers dug into your warm cheek. “Ah, ah, ah, none of that.” he chided, voice dripping with mocking disapproval. “No more of that now, sweetheart.”
With a sudden, sharp tug, Dean tore a strip of fabric from your shirt. The night air hit your skin like ice, and before you could speak, he shoved the torn cloth between your teeth, twisting it tight around your head. He moved down now, you could feel the rough, calloused skin of his hands winding the remaining fabric around, binding your hands together. He gave the knot a sharp tug, ensuring it was secure, before releasing your hands once again. Dean ran a hand down your arms, tracing he curve of your shoulder blades through the ripped shirt. “Can’t have you trying to fight us off anymore, can we?”
Sam backed up after Dean tied you up, his gaze raking over your helpless form, lingering on the way your hips and ass were upturned, legs kicking feebly. A dark hunger gleamed in his eyes as he drank in the sight, his tongue darting out to wet his blood-soaked lips. He could see the fear in your expression, the way your breath came in short, panicked bursts. It sent a thrill of anticipation through him, his cock twitching in the confines of his jeans.
Dean, never one to miss an opportunity, reached out and delivered a sharp smack to your ass. The sound of the impact rang out in the night air, followed by your muffled yelp of pain and surprise. “She’s got a nice ass, doesn’t she?” Dean commented, a grin spreading along his face as he glanced at his brother.
Sam’s jaw clenched, a muscle jumping in his cheek. He said nothing, but the intensity in his gaze only grew, his eyes boring into your exposed flesh like a predator eyeing its prey. Dean took his silence as confirmation, making him laugh. You felt the heat of Dean’s body move to press against your backside as he leaned over you, his breath cold against your neck. “You’re in for a real treat, sweetheart,” he cooed, sliding a hand down to grip your hip. He gripped it hard enough to leave a bruise, before sliding them further and further down.
His fingers met your waistband, and with a sharp tug, he yanked them down to your thighs. The denim scraped roughly against your skin. You tried to squirm away, but his grip on you held you in place. He roughly pulled your jeans the rest of the way off, along with your panties. He groaned at the sight, licking his fangs. He plucked the fabric from the inside of your jeans; making your eyes widen as he held up your thong. The crotch part of them were visibly damp, showing the two men how your body betrayed you.
Dean slowly brought your panties to his nose, inhaling deeply. His eyes fluttered shut as he savored your scent, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Fuuuuuckkk, she smells good,” he mumbled, before holding the thong out to Sam, offering him them. Sam glanced at the garment, then back at your tightly pressed together thighs. He plucked the thong from Dean’s fingers, bringing it to his nose as well. He inhaled just like Dean did, his pupils dilating as your arousal filled his senses. He groaned, before taking another smell. Dean laughed at him, dark and low. He crouched back down, hand sliding down your ass again. He groped your ass, landing a few light smacks to it as well.
A single tear rolled down your cheek as the humiliation of your exposure sank in. You were utterly vulnerable. But, despite the shame and fear coursing through you, you could feel a traitorous heat building even more between your legs. Sam noticed your tear-streaked face and the ways your thighs clenched together, as if trying to hide shameful excitement. He tucked the thong carefully in the pocket of his jacket, a wicked glint in his eye. Dean watched as Sam joined him, both men now crouching on either side of your helpless form.
They exchanged a look, silent communication passing between them. “You gonna go first, or me?” Dean asked. Sam’s eyes flicked to your face, taking in your fearful expression and flushed cheeks. He could smell your arousal, see the way your hips twitched. “After you,” he said coldly.
Dean’s hand slid down to your inner thigh, squeezing the soft flesh. He started to force your legs apart, wider and wider. You tried to resist, to keep yourself covered to the best of your ability, but they were stronger. Sam gripped your other knee, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled your leg out to the side, spreading you open completely.
“Please, Sam— Dean—” You whimpered. You tried to beg, tried to plead, but your voice was muffled by the gag. He simply tightened his grip, holding you in place as Dean leaned in closer. “Just relax, sweetheart.” He purred, caressing your jaw. “We’re gonna make you feel so fucking good.” He moved from your ear, to in between your legs. You felt the first brush of his tongue against your folds. A jolt of electricity shot through you at the contact, back arching.
His tongue started digging deeper into you, flicking in and out of your hole. You could feel the sharp points of Dean’s fangs pressing against your flesh, making your head spin. “Fuck, she tastes even better than she smells,” Dean sighed, the vibrations of his voice sending waves of pleasure through your core. He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud.
Meanwhile, Sam watched his brother work, eyes dark with lust as he stared at your leaking cunt. His hand slid up your side, calloused fingers brushing against the side of your breast, through the torn fabric of your shirt. He palmed the soft mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh. His thumb found your nipple, pinching and pulling at it too. Sam’s other hand drifted on his own body, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his jeans, popping the button open. The zipper followed, and he was shoving his jeans and boxers down in no time. His cock was freed; springing up, long and girthy. The swollen head already glistened with precum.
Dean stood up, quickly shedding his jeans and boxers as well. His cock was thick, a bit shorter than Sam’s, but still so much wider. Dean stroked himself a few times, spreading spit and his precum down the length. “Get ready, sweetheart,” Dean stated flatly, a cruel smirk on his face as he notched the swollen head of his cock at your entrance. “I’m gonna ruin this little pussy.”
He gripped your hips hard, pulling you up so that you rested on your hands and knees. With no further warning, he thrusted forward, burying his cock into your dripping hole. A guttural groan tore from his throat at the feeling of your walls stretching around him, gripping his invading length. “Fuck! So goddamn tight,” he whimpered. Dean gripped your hips hard, bottoming out before he started to move. He pulled out just until the tip remained inside you, before slamming back in. He stretched you out deliciously, you never felt so full. He set a hard and fast pace, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the night air as he took you from behind, his heavy balls slapping against your clit with each powerful thrust.
Sam shifted to kneel in front of you, gripping your chin and tilting your head up at him. He tugged the gag down, letting it fall around your neck. His cock bobbed inches from your face, the scent of him filling your nose. “Open your mouth,” he demanded, smacking his cock against your cheek. You flinched at the feeling, your cheek becoming slightly red. He did it again, on the other cheek, before rubbing the leaking tip all over your face, smearing your skin with his precum. Sam gripped your hair, yanking your head back further and trying to force your mouth open. “I said open, bitch.” he growled. “You’re gonna fucking choke on my cock while he fucks you.”
As if on cue, Dean slammed back into you, particularly harder this time. The intrusion made you gasp, your mouth falling open. Sam took the opportunity to thrust forward, burying his cock down your throat in one push. “Take it all, slut.” Sam snarled, holding your head still as he started to fuck your face. “This is what you were made for, isn’t it? Being used like a fuck toy?” Dean teased, smacking your ass hard.
Each thrust from Dean made your body jolt forward, tits bouncing with each slam of his hips. The lewd sounds of you choking on Sam’s cock, mixed in with the sound of skin on skin was almost overwhelming. Drool leaked from the corners of your stretched lips, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the assault. They both used you like a piece of meat, like a toy they got gifted to play with.
They matched each other’s pace, slamming into you with equal need. Your pussy squelched obscenely as Dean stirred up your organs. He smacked your ass hard, the stinging pain mixing with the intense pleasure. Suddenly, after a while, Sam pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop, his cock slapping against your spit-slick face. Dean followed suit, pulling out of your pussy, and meeting Sam’s eyes and nodding with a smile. You whined at the sudden emptiness, your throat hoarse from the abuse it just had experienced.
Sam laid back on the grass next to you, stroking his cock as he watched Dean step away from you. He grabbed you and positioned you on top of him, legs on the sides of his hips. He sliced away the cloth that bound your wrists together, knowing you wouldn’t run away anymore. He gripped your thighs, lining himself up with your dripping, stretched out hole. The head of his long cock nudges against your folds, making you shiver.
"C'mon, sit it on it.” Sam growls, voice rough. “I’m not doing all the work, slut.”
With a deep breath, you sink down, feeling Sam’s shaft filling you to the brim. You gasp, falling over slightly and digging your nails into his chest as your walls started to stretch again. Sam groans, his fingers gripping your plush thighs as his tip kisses your cervix. He started to roll his hips, thrusting up into you.
Sam angled his hips, grinding into your g-spot with each thrust, making your pussy clamp down on him. Dean moved, kneeling behind you, and spitting into his hand. He spread his digits, pressing two fingers against your puckered asshole, rubbing in slow circles. He pushed his fingers past the tight ring of muscle, sinking them deep into you. He pumped them in and out, scissoring and twisting, preparing you for his cock. Meanwhile, Sam’s thrusts grew harder, more demanding.
Dean pulled his fingers out of you abruptly. He gripped your ass cheeks hard, spreading them wide as he placed his cock against your virgin asshole. Without warning, he thrust forward. A groan tore from his throat as your hole clenched around him. They set punishing paces, pistoning in and out of your holes. When Sam would pull out, Dean would push in, and vice versa. The sensation of being so utterly filled, of having your most intimate places being claimed by the two of them, sent jolts of intense, shameful pleasure coursing through your body. Your nerves were alight, your body shook.
Dean’s lips found your neck as he pounded you, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh. A sharp cry escaped you, quickly muffled by his hand being placed over your mouth. Sharp, intense, pain flowed through you as he pierced your skin, hot blood welling up to meet his hungry mouth. Dean groaned around the mouthful of your neck, his tongue lapping at the crimson liquid as it flowed, savoring the coppery taste of your blood. The sensation of his mouth on your neck, drinking from you, only seemed to inflame his lust. He gripped you harder, slamming into you with renewed vigor, grunting and growling as he used you.
Sam also reached up and grabbed one of your wrists, and yanking it towards his mouth. Before you could try to do anything, he sunk his own fangs into the delicate skin, piercing the veins. The dual sensations of them feeding on you, combined with the relentless pounding into you, pushed you to the brink of a shameful climax. Your body trembled and shuddered, tears of pained ecstasy streaking your face as they used you.
They could feel your pulse racing, your blood trickling down your body from the wounds, fueling their own dark desires. The taste of you, the feeling of your holes squeezing their cocks, drove them wild with primal urge to conquer, to possess, to ruin. Dean’s hand slid around to your front, gripping your throat, squeezing, as he drank deeper, fucking you harder, faster, driven mad with lust and the taste of your blood. Sam’s hand tightened around your wrist, fingers digging into your skin, as he drank to his fill.
Dean’s hips stutter, his grip on your throat tightening even more are he felt his own climax building. With a hiss, he buried his fangs deeper as his cock throbbed and pulsed in you. Hot, thick ropes of cum erupted from his dick, painting your insides white as he emptied his balls deep in your guts.
Sam snarled, sucking harder into your wrist, drawing more of your sweet blood into his mouth. You could see the blood smearing all over his mouth, his pupils pulsed with his cock. He slammed into your cunt, his own cock pulsing and twitching as he pumped your womb full of his cum.
Your body convulsed still, back arching as you felt their releases seep into you. It pushed a second orgasm through you. Your pussy shamefully clamped down on Sam’s cock again, milking him for every last drop as your asshole squeezed Dean’s cock aswell. Wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure crashed over you, your mind going hazy and dark as you were filled by the brothers. The last thing you heard their voices, distant and muffled, as your vision swam and faded to black.
“..take her with us. Can’t let a prime piece of ass like this go to waste."
Then, nothing. Darkness claimed you, their voices fading as you slipped into unconsciousness, their thick seed leaking out of your used holes. The last sensation you felt was the feeling of strong arms scooping you up, carrying you off into the night.
cred to @/cafekitsune for dividers! :33
