Based on this request: Can you do a Ketch x Reader where they are stuck in a room during a hunt and they can’t get out so they play 20 questions to get to know each other better and in the end confess their feelings for each other
Here you are, lovelies! *I do not own ANY SPN characters. They belong to the writers/creators of the show.*
Warnings: Trapped Together, fluff-ish?
Pairings: Arthur Ketch x reader
It was a good thing you didn't hate Ketch. Really it was. Because if you'd hated him, he wouldn't survive the night. He was driving you batty, pacing like a caged tiger. You understood why. You didn't much appreciate being trapped either, but it was that or become a monster's plaything. At least you'd been able to get into a place where you could ward against everything and the horde of demons couldn't get in.
"Ketch! Please just sit down, you're driving me nuts!" He paused long enough to glare at you before resuming his pacing. He didn't like being stuck in one space for too long. That much was obvious. Not to mention you were both exhausted from the hunt followed by the demon chase. They'd come out of nowhere after the two of you had taken out a vampire nest.
"Please. I know you're anxious to get out of here, but could you please settle down? We're safe in here for now and I called the boys. They're sending Jody and Donna to come help us." Ketch hummed before finally sitting in the only other chair in the room. It was then that you noticed the injury to his arm. "Were you bitten?" He shook his head. "No. That was from one of the demons." You hummed in response and then it got quiet again. Normally that didn't bother you, but stuck in one tiny room, the silence was almost stifling.
"Alright, rather than sitting here doing nothing, I think we should get to know each other better. If we're going to be hunting together more often, we may as well." Ketch's eyes flickered over to you for a moment before he asked, "What did you have in mind?" You felt a smile stretch over your lips. At least he was willing. You were certain you were going to have to practically pull teeth to get him to talk. From what you'd seen, Ketch was a pretty closed off man. Not that you blamed him after what he'd gone through.
"20 Questions. It's the easiest way I can think of." Ketch nodded once, his eyes regarding you as you shifted to try and get more comfortable. "Are you going to sit or stand there all night?" He arched a brow at your teasing tone. "Is that one of your questions? I must say, I expected more from you." You rolled your eyes and gave a sarcastic laugh. "Haha. Jokes. Who knew you had it in you? Now rules: once the game starts it doesn't stop until we've both asked 20 questions. The questions can be anything from the most simple to the most deep that require thought. And we must answer truthfully. Ready?" At Ketch's nod, you proceeded to start the game.
"I'll start with a basic question. Favorite color?" A small smirk made its way onto Ketch's lips as he shook his head at you. "Purple." You let out a small noise of surprise. "I would have suspected red or black." It was Ketch's turn to roll his eyes as he replied, "Purple is the color of royalty, darling. Now, I believe it's my turn. What would you be doing if you weren't a hunter?" You laughed lightly and had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
*time skip*
You and Ketch had spent what felt like hours asking questions back and forth. Not that you minded. It was nice getting an inside look into his mind. Although, your heart hurt for all the torture he'd gone through as a child and into his adulthood. By the time you got to the last round of questions, you wanted nothing more than to wrap the man up in a hug. Unfortunately, you were also at your last question.
You glance up into Ketch's eyes and asked the question you'd been avoiding. You weren't sure how he'd react in all honesty, but you were running out of questions at the moment. "Have you ever been in love?" Ketch's small smile faltered a bit. His brows lowered over his eyes as he tried to think. His gaze flickered over to you then back toward the door. For a moment, it didn't look like he was going to answer the question.
"Perhaps." It was your turn to look confused, prompting him to sigh. "Love is considered a…weakness in Kendrick's. It isn't something encouraged. That being said, I am uncertain as to what love feels like. It is possible I've been in love without realizing." His eyes met your again and you swore they were boring into your soul. You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling the air in the room thicken with the tension he was causing.
"My last question then, is it?" he asked suddenly. The moment between you was broken in an instant. You nodded. You honestly thought you were going to get whiplash at the pace he changed the subject. Ketch stood and placed one hand in his pocket. You'd been around him long enough to know he only did that when he was grabbing a weapon or feeling unsure of himself. No one else had noticed it. They just thought it was a normal mannerism of his.
His eyes met yours again and he asked, "Do you think, after all I've done for the old men, that someone could love me? Help me have the happiness everyone around me seems to desire so much…Could you?" You blinked in surprise. That was not the question you were expecting. Ketch was very, very good at masking his feelings. There were rarely any signs of vulnerability in the man, though you were able to catch them here and there. Your mind was in a state of confusion so you said the first thing you could think of.
"That's two questions." Ketch scoffed lightly, but looked away from you. Even from his profile you could tell he was upset. You rose from your seat and closed the space between you. He turned his head so he could look at you once more. Without taking your eyes off his, you gently took the hand that wasn't in his pocket in your hand. "Truth?" you asked and he nodded. "Those were the rules after all, were they not?"
"I do. I know someone could love you. Someone doeslove you, Ke-Arthur." The only sign that Ketch was caught off guard was the slight tightening of his hand around yours. "Really?" he asked, disbelief lacing his voice. You never heard him sound so insecure before. It was odd. Still, you smiled. "Really." Your free hand moved up to cup his cheek.
You felt your heart hammering in your chest as a smirk replaced his look of disbelief. "I thought so. The sentiment is returned, darling." You wanted to be mad at him. He'd gotten you to admit something that you were petrified to admit. Still, with him so close, it was hard to think about anything other than having him as close as possible.
Just as Ketch's lips were about to meet yours, the doors burst open. The two of you sprang apart like two teenagers being caught making out on the parent's couch. "Oh, um…carry on," Donna's voice came from the doorway. She ushered Jody out, saying, "Nothing to see here, Jody. Move along." You felt your face heat up as Ketch let out a laugh, prompting you to do the same. You knew you'd never hear the end of this from Jody. Ketch took your hand again, placing a kiss to the back of it, before leading you out to the car.
the funniest thing supernaturaI ever did was spend the first two episodes of season 12 making Ketch out to be some super scary deadly dude and then he shows up and he's just some British dumbass with a crush in the boys' mom
Warnings: Smutty times and I am not at all sorry. Also not terribly graphic, so it’s cool.
A/N: So, yeah, @wi-deangirl77 and I were having a lovely conversation about Ketch that absolutely devolved into blatant objectification and sexual scenarios. It happens, but then it needed more, so I wrote it and quickly posted it. Enjoy.
You knew this was coming. You’d seen the signs building up for weeks.
“Damn!”
You hear him curse, the hotel suite not providing much privacy. You draw in a deep breath of your own, centering yourself before the storm you know is on its way.
“What’s going on?”
“Those damned Winchesters.”
“Always,” you mutter, “Why do you let them get to you?”
He squeezes his fist, holding it up as he rubs his knuckles along his lips - one of his tells, “You give them an inch, and they take a mile.”
You tilt your head as you look him over. His perfect posture even more stiff than usual, eyes narrowed in a glare, fingers relentlessly straightening his tie as they always are when he’s anxious. God, the ‘Old Men’ as he and Mick liked to call them would be disappointed that he’d gotten so sloppy.
“You need to relax,” you say, walking over to him and gripping his shoulders in your palms.
He scoffs at your statement of the obvious.
“No, dear,” you lean in to whisper in his ear, “You need to relax,” you emphasize.
He reaches a hand up to catch yours as you massage at this tight muscles, “Is that so?”
“Mhhmm,” you hum, “I believe you’re quite overdue.”
He draws in a deep breath, his chest heaving, “Well then, let’s get on with it.”
Your lips curl. You walk around his side and grip at his tie, pulling him up out of his seat and along as you walk backward to the bed, “Yes. Let’s.”
He keeps his eyes on yours while he undresses, taking the time to fold his jacket and slacks and lay them out. You pick up his tie after he unknots it, sliding the silk between your fingers as you watch him strip layer by later.
“Stop.” You order once he reaches his boxers, “That’s enough.” Then you nod your chin toward the bed, waiting for him to climb in. A slow, lingering look and the slightest shift of his eyebrow is all you get in response, his chin still raised in the usual defiance. You step forward, pushing into his space.
“Come on now, Arthur, don’t make us both wait.” You pinch his chin, your lips close enough to touch, but still held back just enough to make him sway toward you. “It’ll be so good.” You hold his stare, promising everything with your eyes. He finally drops his shoulders, trying to leave some of the tension behind as he climbs into the bed and lies down on his back.
The thing is, he can get out of the knots by the time you make sure they're tight enough.
He knows it, you know it. It’s a game you love to both win and lose.
“Well?” he challenges, arms flexing in the bonds, breath controlled and even. Still far too tense.
“Relax Mr. Ketch, I will take very good care of you.”
His body is laid out, and you look him over like a damn buffet trying to decide where to start. Making sure he’s watching you, you start to strip down, stopping short of removing your own undergarments, then kneel onto the bed. Leaning over him, you trace over his fingers, then down his palms, grinning when he closes his fist to hold your hand for a few seconds. Another tell, a signal really, only you’re privy to.
He lets go, and you move your hands down his arms, squeezing and massaging the tension out along the way and paying close attention as his breathing relaxes, each inhale dragging out a little longer, eyes closing a little longer with each blink.
“That’s it,” you whisper, lips hovering just at the hinge of his jaw. You bring your hands down to hold yourself above him, swinging your leg over to straddle him, and now using your lips to make your way lower, tasting him as you go, doubling your efforts when you hit a spot that makes his breath hitch, loving that he gives you the opportunity to see him this way. You feel him flex beneath you, lifting his hips as you pull yours away.
“If you want more you need to use your words, darling.” You demand, voice steady. He inhales deeply, unable to stop the flush from rising in his cheeks, but stubbornly staring you down. You crawl backward, fingers trailing down his torso until you reach the last of his clothing, “It’s more fun when you beg.”
“I’m not a dog,” he argues, his arms twitching above him.
“Of course not, just tell me what you want.”
“You. Always.”
Damn. While it happens more often now that he’s a free agent, it’s still a rush to see him with such an open and earnest look about him. No scrutinizing glares or sharp edges.
“My god, you’re a sap.”
You lean in to kiss him, using one hand to support yourself and the other to tug at the last barriers of clothing - twisting and pulling, even using your feet to yank them out of the way before lining yourself up with him and sinking down. You each cry out, interrupting the kiss when noises of satisfaction escape at the feeling of him inside you.
You grin against his lips before lifting up and moving back down, constantly changing your tempo, building him up until his head is shoved back into the pillow, mouth gaping at the ceiling, then back down again until he practically snarls at you; his chin quivering and giving away that he's nearly lost his patience and his tolerance for being "helpless.” You stop completely, eyebrow lifted as you stare him down, reminding him that he needs this - wants this. You wait, both of you with panting breaths before he shifts his shoulders and relaxes.
And then you lift yourself, slowly moving up and down his shaft again, dragging it out for you as much as him.
"Good boy, Arthur," you sass, just to watch his jaw clench at your cheekiness.
His speed never fails to catch you off-guard. His arms wrap around you as his body twists to flip your positions.
“I am not a dog.”
“But you are my good boy,” you scratch your fingers over his scalp.
Lips twitch in a quick snarl before twisting into a wicked smile. “Hmm, you’re going to push too far one day.”
“I hope so,” you nip at him then slide your tongue across his plump lower lip. He moves to support himself above you while you spread your legs wide and shift to settle his hips between your thighs. “I’m supposed to be helping you relax, though.”
“Trust me, my dear, my mind is clear of anything but you.” He holds eye contact with you as he leans down over your chest and tugs your nipple between his teeth, making your back arch with the pull.
“Yes,” you hiss.
From there, he takes you apart, kissing and sucking his way across your skin, his fingers tease between your legs while you try to pull him in with legs hooked around him. Finally, he relents, pushing back into you - slowly, then quickly - his rhythm steady as he drives you both toward the finish. His grunts become shorter and choppy as they always do when he’s close, and you squeeze your legs tighter around him and hold tightly to his shoulders.
“Yes, baby, come on,” you urge, like always.
But then he pulls away. He slows down again and you catch your breath.
“You think I’m done?” He keeps a gentle pace, enough to keep the edge right there. You're nearly at the point that you can't take anymore, and that's when he holds you down by your forearms. Rubs his light stubble against your cheek and neck, and growls a whisper into your ear. "Not yet love. I'm not done with you yet."
wow ketch is alive again and working asmodeus, the only prince of hell with actually interesting powers as he can shapeshift. why is he labeled the weakest lIKE THE MANS CAN DO COOL SHIT. that being said, he needs his last rites read as me no likey him and he's not rly even done anything yet. except look like evil colonel sanders.
