NSFW / 18 + for Blowjobs, titty fucking, ejaculation, public sex acts (semi), and a bit of demeaning behavior / slight humor on Bane's part. Yes, he has two dicks.
Summary: Cad Bane is the most handsome man you have seen in your whole life. He knows that look, and decides to have some fun with you. For you, it's love at first sight. You would let him take you in any way that he saw fit; lucky for you, he's into that (you give Bane sloppy head in an alley behind a bar).
Word count: 3.1k. Short and sweet.
Notes: Haven't written for Bane for a minute. Just wanted to gush over him for a bit. He was so hot in TBB season 2 that I was inspired. This fic takes place from many points of view, but halfway through it settles into the reader's perspective. I may write a part 2 when she/you bump into him again. ;D
A raucous discordance of voices quieted to a dull roar, and then nothing – a nervous cough, the scrape of a chair – so many languages hailing from different star systems pinched off like oxygen from the lungs. Those sentient beings who absorbed the stuff found they held it inside like a scream; they harbored this bated breath, as if releasing it might bring certain doom in the guise of a figure.
A figure who wore a hat, canted downward, its wide brim shielding them from judgement, from the burn of this creature’s gaze, this otherworldly being who was half myth, half legend, half flesh and green blood, bound together by a kind of apathy that bordered cruel.
But the stories were true— time stood still once he walked into the room.
One might swear they could hear the drop of that toothpick, discarded with both absence of mind and disrespect. It bounced once across greel-wood floors strewn with sand, in need of a sweep.
All eyes, including ones that were bulbous and backlit, remained on the blue Duros, a person of sound intelligence left to ponder the notion—the implications—as to the appearance of a diminutive droid from behind his legs, only knee-high. For a hunter of such notoriety to keep a companion that for all intents and purposes seemed harmless was a mystery, almost as big a mystery as the man himself.
“Geric Zodri,” its haughty, high-nosed voice called out, little hands akimbo on his hips, both the new arrivals unaware of the woman who sat at a table just diagonal the door. Her caf cup was held stationary in a position that mimicked art, as if sculpted from marble; she dare not move, wanting nothing more than to observe the sight before her, to commit it to memory, for such a beautiful thing it was.
Skin the color of cerulean seas; eyes as red as human blood that shone like fire; fingers as long and delicate as the legs of spiders. His teeth were as sharp and deadly as his stare, two the length of dagger points, the Duros’ body as thin and gangly as the stem of a candlewick flower sold on market days.
He was covered from head to foot in leather, tubes jutting from his cheeks like extra limbs, his pants so tight it appeared he had been poured into them. The girl imagined his wide-brimmed hat to be a crown, fixated atop his head and steeping him in shadow, its artificial shade casting its dark pall across honed planes and angles, only making those stark, elliptic eyes more prominent.
Love at first sight—she might believe it, now that she had come face to face with hell incarnate, a fallen angel, a man so handsome tears threatened to fall from her eyes, her previous occupation all but forgotten.
What had she been doing? Datapad sitting idle, screen blackening to the color of pitch. She hadn’t a clue, forgetting to breathe, forgetting to blink, forgetting her own name as the soft jingle of some unidentified bits of metal clinked against one another with every graceful, slow, deliberate step of this man advancing, strolling beyond her, just to the left.
She felt she might faint; simply pass from this world into the next, to die on the spot as she caught the scent of the gunslinger who smelled like something smokey, something sweet, something not quite like anything else on this stinking planet; it was a wonder she did not spill her beverage straight onto her lap, finally having the sense to place it down upon the table.
Then, another man stood, a human, though nothing about his appearance suggested he was from any place in particular, his eyes wide like an animal ensnared, caught in the path of a hungry predator, though the droid approached him first, his gold-colored photoreceptors angling upward as he tilted his large head.
How did it even stay upright? How did this little bot balance when it was so top heavy, defying the laws of physics? Questions she asked herself as she watched the scene unfold; they were all members of a theatrical audience, her and the other patrons, seated on the edges of seats, cramped in corners to make themselves small, heads bent low with hoods drawn, others smiling wicked smiles of twisted delight.
“Ah, there you are! There is no escape, I am afraid,” the droid said with certainty, joined by an air of pretention that was almost comical. Maybe this woman would have laughed had not all the other people surrounding her been so adamant to keep their silence, a few others daring to inch toward the door in hopes of a subtle escape.
The Duros paused as his target’s eyes shifted, mapping out possible exits, his heartbeat so loud he was positive it could be heard over the eerie quiet that had descended upon this little cantina like an ominous cloud. The gears of his mind were practically visible, turning in the direction of the blaster on his hip, the perp’s arm lifting incrementally in such a fashion as to make everyone aware he planned to draw.
“Naht smart, what yer thinkin’,” the creature’s voice announced, low and husky, words drawled in absolute indifference. So calm and cool, like a tall drink of water served ice cold; he rushed for naught, the girl thinking she would pay all the credits in the galaxy just for him to read aloud to her.
“Whaddeye say ye come quietly, save me a heap a trouble.”
Something akin to fear bristled down her spine, though the threat had not been directed toward her. Worse yet, it wasn’t as simple as that, the tingling of her loins accompanying a heat that spread like wildfire from her groin up to her cheeks.
God, he was perfect in every sense of the word. The tilt of his hip, the drumming of his fingers against his gun belt, the scars that not marred, but complimented his rugged visage. She realized she wanted to kiss him, touch him, worship the very ground he walked on, and she did not even know his name.
“Cad Bane.”
His quarry had spoken, eyes narrowing to match the width of the Duros’, constricted into tapered slits at either end. The girl had only spared him a glance, returning her attention to the rough and tumble nerfpoke whose hand idled over blasters of a kind she had never seen before.
“Supposin’ ye know why Ah’m here, dhen,” the hired gun offered, though his droid perked up, easing himself back into the conversation as if he enjoyed the act of provocation, no better than a sentient who fed on drama.
“For the sizable bounty on your head, of course!”
Cad Bane, the bounty hunter, the girl recited soundlessly. Only known by name, she had never once laid her eyes on him—not that she had desired or ever expected to.
The hunter’s upper lip lifted in a partial sneer, revealing the point of one elongated tooth more clearly. How might it feel for it to press against her flesh? How might it feel to be bitten?
“Dhat’ll do.” The droid needed no other encouragement, backing up to a safer distance as its master stayed put, seeming to know better than to interfere with what was about to occur. The one called Bane never once looked away from his mark, and the girl never once looked away from him, the way in which the Duros carried himself exuding a reptilian-like patience that preceded his species, yet this was something else entirely.
It was a standoff, like those kinds she witnessed in holofilms, but she found herself rooting for the villain—was he the villain? What had this man done to warrant being hunted down like vermin? She would not contemplate the possibilities, too engrossed in the here and now, eyes trailing from boot to brim; she thought she caught a sideways glance in her direction, causing her to dip back in her seat—had he looked at her?
That was the moment a shot rang out, followed by the smell of Tibanna gas and gasps from all around. Another followed suit, within milliseconds, echoing the first. Bane had sidestepped, his reflexes like that of an agile nexu—the human male had tried to take him out and failed.
“Ah’d say better luck next time,” the hunter quipped. The butt of his joke need not be stated, the point of it obvious—he was deader than a starship rivet, hitting the floor like a sack of Corellian potatoes, no one seeming to want to acknowledge this fact as they returned to card games, to gambling, to drinking caf.
But the girl—she would continue to stare, lip nearly chewed to shreds as she bit her tongue to keep from spurting off nonsensical things such as “I love you,” or “please fuck me within an inch of my life.” It was as if he could read her mind, another glance cast with the accompaniment of a smirk.
“Todo.”
The droid was alert and ready to serve, somehow wishing she was he, or it, at his beck and call and then some, never once assuming she could be jealous of a thing that had no soul, made of ones and zeros.
“Get de repulsor,” he commanded. “And ye,” he faced the girl, “come with me.”
---
The coiling of a single digit easily persuaded you, your heartbeat a separate entity set out to betray you; it was felt as a persistent throb below the belt, your cunt clenching as you stood. You were unsure of what the hunter wanted from you, but it did not matter, all thoughts fleeing to be replaced by unconditional obedience.
It would have been unwise to turn him down regardless, apparent from all eyes now set upon you, none wishing to be caught in your shoes. Had he felt disrespected by your ogling? Had he set out to punish you? Would you wind up like the man inside the bar?
You would not see his face again in the span of time it took for him to travel the path laid out before him, unconcerned by your lagging behind, finding you to be no threat. Despite your predicament, you were eager to discover what he had in store, pausing when Cad Bane vanished beyond the mouth of a narrow alley.
Now would be the time to run, to flee for your life, but instead you were stupid, enamored by the way he walked, the way he talked, the clothes upon his back, the color of his pretty scales.
You took a breath, turning the corner. He was waiting for you, thumbs hooked along the waistband of his trousers. Once he was sure you had not abandoned him—and he did allow you your own freewill—he advanced, arriving at a more secluded portion to which he pointed with a downward turn of his index finger.
You bravely stepped forward, aligning yourself with the wall. Bane positioned himself in front of you with a curious tilt of his head, towering above. And while you felt intimidated, you did not outwardly express it, keeping a straight face notwithstanding the trepidation you harbored, meeting that piercing gaze head-on.
Then, he angled his hand, pointing again, this time toward the ground with that same finger, a smug look of callous amusement registered by only a small quirk of his thin lips.
Slowly, thoughtfully, you lowered, drifting to your knees before him as your gaze stayed trained on his gaunt face. He wanted you humbled in supplication; you held no qualms, holding his red eyes with an expectant look for as long as he allowed.
You could get drunk off them, like sanguine-colored wine, your own reflection mirrored back to you; your own desperation; your own indecency, assuming what might come next, yet your expression could only be observed as eager. The Duros’ lithe fingers branched out like twigs as they curled beneath your chin, a hint of a thing most heavenly stretching languidly in an upward curve.
It was a smile, or the beginnings of one, dastardly in effect, Bane all too entertained by your lack of self-respect, perhaps. Yet you obeyed when he pried your lips apart with the pad of a cool thumb, exposing your teeth—nothing like his and dull in comparison—your instinct to wet his scales as your tongue gave a tentative lick, mouth closing around its blue tip.
You sucked, not once breaking eye contact, drowsy with desire as you mimed fellatio, moaning sweet sounds that caused the man to hiss, as if somehow unprepared.
You watched as his free hand unzipped his fly below where his belt fastened, leaving his holsters intact about his tiny waist. It took more than that to partly undress himself, realizing there was a hidden panel made of some extruded, matte material that sealed him off from the outside world; it was like a second skin, only black.
Bane’s bulge pushed against it, as if the thing behind it demanded to be released. Like a snake, it—they—slithered out to your surprise, his thumb abstracted to be replaced by not one, but both his cocks.
Awestruck, your eyes widened; you never would have imagined that what his species packed would be anything quite like this. Coated in a sheer slime that tasted divine, these flexible appendages glided down your throat as if a liquid, bypassing your uvula to delve toward the deepest part of your oropharynx, barely giving you space to breathe.
But you found you could, inhaling through your nostrils as you sat up on your knees, finding his flavor to be enticing, lulling you into a more relaxed state of mind. You were receptive, more than perhaps you ought to be, puckering your lips for better suction, the Duros’ gloved hand finding the back of your head.
He pushed you forward; you did not resist, his slender hips thrusting into you as his reedy fingers coiled into your hair. You aided him, seesawing your neck back and forth, adopting a frictionless speed that caused his grip to tighten, the Duros shamelessly fucking your face like you were a common whore, yet he was not paying you.
His genitalia seemed to be hardening, which was unexpected, making it difficult for you to obtain the oxygen you sorely needed, yet you found to be starved of air was worth it, instead your nostrils filling with a most addicting aroma, none like you had ever smelled before.
Today seemed to be a day full of firsts; your hands found the hunter’s small, yet muscular ass. He did not stop you, though he could if he had the mind, your tongue roiling across and between his members as if imparting a passionate kiss.
What was that? you wondered, your human brain only comprehending it as pheromones, you heart beating faster as you drooled on yourself, spittle leaking down your chin to fall against your breasts. The hunter yanked you backward by your locks, stealing his cocks from you; you panted, gasping, yet you were indignant, tongue searching them out in a pathetic display worthy of embarrassment as you whined in dismay.
“Human girls would choke dhemelves te death,” he commented, tone mocking, allowing the reinsertion of one, while the other slid down the front of your top to fondle a pebbled nipple, slipping beneath the fabric of your brassiere.
He was right; you had not wished to stop, only now noticing how dire the situation had been. As if hypnotized, or seduced by his scent, in that moment you would not have cared if you asphyxiated, so avid was your zeal.
You moaned in earnest, enlivened further by his attention to your tits, however unconventional, moving your hand to grip his interred cock’s sleek base. You gorged on it, one of the Duros hands finding purchase against the wall behind you, propping himself up as you deigned to never be forgotten, feeling privileged to have even gotten this far.
You changed your mind; you went hands free, smashing your breasts together, creating a snug crevice between your cleavage for him to fuck. You continued to slather his first cock in your saliva, deepthroating him to the root of his tentacular shaft, putting your whole body into motion, your tongue ebbing and flowing, cheeks hollowing, coaxing him to bust.
He produced a gruff, throaty sound that nearly caused you to cum untouched. You would have played with yourself right then and there, but his pleasure was the thing you sought, keeping your tits level as he drove his secondary cock between them, droplets having formed at its head; the sticky beads of precum leaked out onto your chest.
“Give a Rodian a run fer dheir creditsss…” he praised, your underwear thoroughly soaked; you relaxed your throat as he face-fucked you harder, though his movements slowed, his strokes deeper, longer, more succinct.
“Get ready,” Bane warned; you felt born ready, squeezing your tits around him at the same time your mouth hugged his every inch. He came, a torrent of ejaculate pumping itself down your gullet and into your belly, the other spreading its seed all across your breasts and neck, spurting as high as your chin.
You were covered, inside and out, verbalizing your ecstasy by way of a happy purr, though you were quickly disappointed when his snake-like dick wriggled right out of you to join its twin, both dripping with remnants of his sperm.
You licked them clean, begging for more, a plaintive whine escaping you as you gazed up with sorrowful, pleading eyes, so sad that it was over.
Bane stuffed himself back inside his suit, his trousers, and awkwardly adjusted, waiting for the moment his dual dicks would retract inside himself, making his pants all the more comfortable to wear.
He pat your cheek; it was a demeaning gesture, yet you ate it up, nuzzling your face into the bowl of his palm for those few seconds, like an eager kitten who craved attention, finding yourself to be devastated when he broke physical contact, your mind swirling with thoughts of him and only him, Bane knowing that look all too well.
“Thanks fer de head.”
The hunter tipped his hat, turned, and moseyed back the way he came, the way from which he had ushered you minutes prior, his droid drifting by with the body of the man Bane had shot laid out on a hover-stretcher, leaving you to pine away for him as he knew you would, walking out of your life just as quickly as he had arrived— oh to be his bounty, dead or alive.
Point of view may seem like a small and unimportant detail in the grand scheme of things when creating a story, but is an important decision that should be considered before writing can begin. It usually isn’t something that the reader will take notice of when done well, but the different styles lend themselves to different kinds of stories. I’m going to talk about the different kinds of POVs, and the pros and cons of each type.
The first kind is First Person. Writing in First Person combines the narrator and protagonist. Narration takes the form of the character’s thoughts, and uses pronouns such as “I”, “Me”, “Us”, and “We”. This style is very immersive and it is great for misleading the audience. Because they only ever get to experience the world through the narrator’s eyes, it gives the author plenty of ways to misdirect and trick the audience. This can also be a bit constraining, as being stuck to one perspective means that the author now has to find a way to put the narrator into every single important scene in the story.
One good example of a series told in First Person is “The Hunger Games” by Suzanne Collins. The narrator is Katniss Everdeen, and the audience stays in her perspective throughout the three books. We hear of scenes that happen in the background, but we do not get to experience them. When Katniss is in the Arena we do not hear of events happening at home, in the rebel headquarters, or in the President’s palace until Katniss does. (Note: As movies are rarely shot in First Person, the adaptation of the series does not follow this rule, and these other scenes are shown to the audience)
The second kind is Second Person. I’m not going to lie, Second Person sucks. Nobody likes Second Person. Writing in Second person has the narrator speak directly to the audience, and mainly uses the pronoun “you”. Second Person is not preferable when writing, and is best used in small doses. It’s mainly used for breaking the fourth wall, and can bring some humor into your writing.
A good example of a series that used Second Person well is “A Series of Unfortunate Events” by Lemony Snicket. The series has multiple reoccurring jokes involving the narrator, Mr. Snicket himself, speaking to the audience. Some of the most memorable ones include: trying to dissuade the reader from reading the book, and giving silly definitions for some of the more complicated words in the story. The entirety of the narration does not take place in Second Person, but where it is used adds to the enjoyment of the story. (Note: Both the TV and Movie adaptation have included this aspect of the story in their narratives, although the show puts more emphasis on the humor of the narration style.)
The third kind is the most popular, and it comes in two different forms, Third Person Limited and Third Person Omniscient. Both use pronouns such as “he”, “she” and “they” in their narration. We’ll talk about Third Person Limited first.
Third Person Limited has the narrator telling the story from an outside perspective while still being largely tethered to one character. It is functionally similar to First Person narration, although it is not as restrictive. It is possible for Third Person Limited to shift focus to a background character for a short time a few times during the story, where plot points can be revealed to the audience without the protagonist having to be there.
An example of this style is shown in the “Harry Potter” series by J K Rowling. While most of the story takes place though Harry’s perspective, it is not directly through his eyes. Most if not all of the books has one chapter not from Harry’s perspective but from the perspectives of other minor characters: Vernon Dursley, the British Prime Minister, a Groundskeeper. While these scenes do not have much of an effect on the overarching plot, they act as a teaser for what will happen and also offer some use as worldbuilding.
Third Person Omniscient has the narrator telling the story from an outside perspective, giving equal insight into the minds of the central characters. This style gives the reader knowledge of everything that is going on with the different characters. This style does not work well with plot twists. Most of the suspense and anticipation has to come from a genuine fear for the characters’ safety. This style leaves the most room for mistakes, and the author must be extra careful to avoid conventions when writing stories in this style. Another more logistical issue is the juggling of the different points of view, deciding when to cut between perspectives and how often to revisit them.
Possibly the most well known example of a series told in this style is “A Song of Ice and Fire” by George R R Martin. Each book flits between several points of view, and no perspective is more or less in depth than the others. The story is very complex with hundreds of minor and background characters, and the various characters’ chances of survival accounts for the majority of the suspense in the series.
Summary: What happens when the girl sent by the king of hell falls in love with the Winchester who refuses to love. What happens when she gets rejected by the older Winchester and she releases her inner demons. What’ll happen when the boys find out shes really a demon/angel hybrid after only finding out herself shortly before. Even being raised by the king of hell to know you were at least half demon didn’t prepare you for the roller coaster of loving and hating Dean Winchester. You only just begun to realize how much of an abomination you really were.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
Chapter 4: Sexual Tension is a Bitch
Word Count: 8159
Warnings: Strong Sexual Content, Swearing, Mentions of Cheating
Your POV:
It took another 3 hours to get back to the bunker, totaling a 7 hour drive from where the hunt had taken place to home. You couldn’t wait to get back into your own clothes after taking a hot shower, maybe relieving some stress yourself. Especially after you encounter with Sam at the gas station.
When the impala finally pulled into the garage you were out the door before it was even in park. “DIBS ON SHOWER FIRST,” you chuckled and gave them both the finger while you entered the bunker to run to your room.
It only took you a few minutes to make it to your room and as soon as you opened the door you saw your blue eyed angel sitting on the bed with a laptop. You couldn’t help but smirk at him and walk over to your dresser. “Heya Cassie,” you opened your top drawer in search for a pair of panties.
“Welcome home, (Y/N),” he glanced your way slightly and then looked back to the screen on the computer. “Bees are so fascinating don’t you think?”
You shook your head and laughed softly. “You and those damn documentaries,” you turned your attention back on the drawer you were searching through to find your black cotton panties. You needed comfort more than confidence right now. “I’m going to take a long hot shower before we watch any of those movies, okay?” you quirked your eyebrow waiting for a response.
“That is fine, I can continue watching this film about how honey is really made,” you hummed your response and threw your panties to the bed when you found them and continued to your next drawer to find a shirt. You were so preoccupied you didn’t realize that Castiel had been watching you intently, taking in your body as you swung your hips back and forth trying to make up your mind.
You finally decided on a long black shirt that normally would sit just above your knees, covering what it needed to. You grabbed it and quickly shut the drawer turning to face Cas, who looked almost guiltily at you. “Whatcha think Cas, pants or no pants tonight?” you giggled as his eyes shot open wider. You never really minded changing or being around Cas in minimal clothing, he never really showed an attraction to you nor did seem to mind.
“Whatever you think will be most comforting to you, (Y/N),” he quickly looked back to the screen to continue watching his documentary.
“Alrighty, thanks for the input Cassie,” you walked over to him to gather your panties you had previously thrown on the bed. “I’ll be back soon, don’t start that pizza man movie without me,” you shot him a quick grin and kissed his cheek, accidentally hitting the corner of his lip. You had felt a spark on your mouth but quickly ignored it and left the room.
You walked quickly to the shower room and shut the door, not caring whether or not it was locked. You looked up into the mirror and stared at your reflection. “What the hell is going on today, first Sam said something almost defiantly and I could swear Cas was staring at me, almost hungrily,” you said to yourself and shook your head. It was all just your imagination, right?
You sighed and started to undress. As you got the shirt off and unhooked your bra, having a feeling as though you could breathe again, you remembered the radio you had put in the bathroom. You decided music may help your mood too.
You quickly turned on the radio and went over to turn on the shower, you had the radio on so loud you didn’t even hear the door open and shut.
When the shower was to your liking you pulled down Sam's sweatpants you had been wearing and got in. Just as you thought you heard a footstep the radio changed songs and you were instantly back to paying attention to your shower, singing along with whatever you could.
As you washed soap from your hair you had an uneasy feeling that you were being watched, but you quickly dismissed it as paranoia.
Dean POV:
Dean had finally gotten to his own bedroom and flopped down on his bed with a loud huff, landing with his face in his pillow. Mumbling something about how great it was to come back to his own memory foam bed, it always seemed to do a great job of remembering him.
He quickly let out a sigh and rolled over onto his side, staring at the empty spot on the bed. He could still smell you on the bedding and pillow. He couldn’t help but think about how much he enjoyed sharing the same bed with you after long nights of hunting and even longer nights of exploring your body. He wished he could man up and tell you how much you actually meant to him, but he knew he couldn’t. He had to keep you at arm's length in order to keep you safe. Sure you could handle yourself, better than any other hunter he had come in contact with, but he was poison. Anyone he openly loved died. He couldn’t lose you.
Dean quickly sat up and stretched, allowing him to crack his back and let out a content groan. He decided to keep being selfish, letting himself have you even if it wasn’t in the intimate way he wanted. Hell, he didn’t even know if you felt the same about him other than the physical attraction.
He knew you were beautiful, everyone knew you were for that matter. He’s seen how people look at you, even his damn brother and Cas looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. How he had ever gotten so lucky as to have been the one you chose to give yourself to he would never know. You practically knew everything about him and yet you still looked at him with innocence, almost as though what he’s done didn’t scare you.
Dean stood up and started to walk towards his door, he needed a drink in order to keep all of these feelings buried. All he wanted to do was take you in his arms, kiss you with enough passion to make your knees weak and tell you he loved you. He just couldn’t do it and yet he couldn’t end the late night booty calls with you.
Dean had exited his room and was making his way to the kitchen when he heard a door close behind him. He quickly turned and saw Sam exciting the shower room.
“What were you doing in there Sammy?” Dean raised his eyebrow, questioning his brother.
“I thought I left something in there, turns out I was wrong,” Sam quickly turned and walked the other direction to avoid any more confrontation with the older hunter.
Dean huffed and watched him walk away before quickly making his way over to the room his brother had just exited from. When he was about to open the door he was quickly taken aback by you quickly opening the door.
“DEAN!” you exclaimed loudly, clutching the fluffy white towel you had draped around your body with one hand and holding a black shirt in the other. “Jesus Christ, you scared the crap outta me,” you quickly hit him with your shirt laughing. Your (Y/H/C) was still damp and was sticking to your face and neck. “Wait a second, are you what I heard while I was showering? You know if you wanted a quickie in the shower all you would have to do is ask, sweet cheeks,” you winked and pushed past him to go back to your room.
“What do you mean you heard something?” Dean quickly followed behind him, feeling his chest ache with something he was all too familiar with. Jealousy.
“Hmm, maybe I was just being paranoid,” he looked at you questioningly even though your back was turned to him and you couldn’t see him. “Coulda swore I heard footsteps over my music, guess I was wrong if it wasn’t you trying to be a perv.”
Dean stopped walking and clenched his fists at his side. He knew instantly what you heard. Sam had been watching you shower. He was so drawn by his anger he barely heard you talking to him. “As much as I love talking to you in just a towel and panties I have a date with my favorite angel and a stack of movies. Our little play date I promised is gonna have to wait handsome,” he looked up at you in time to see you give him a suggestive smirk before walking into your bedroom and shut the door.
Dean growled softly and started walking to his original destination, the kitchen. He would just have to confront Sam later, when the mark wasn’t burning as hot.
When Dean finally got to the kitchen he knew instantly he needed something stronger than a simple beer. He cracked open a bottle of whiskey and sat down at the table.
---
Dean didn’t know what time is was when he finally decided to go back to his room to turn in for the night, he just knew he was good and drunk.
He ran his hand through his hair as he made his way down the hallway to his room, only stopping when he heard something off. The sound seemed to have been coming from your room, he just shrugged and started walking again only to stop when he was right outside your door. Then he heard it again.
There was moans coming from the other side. He quickly shrugged it off, figuring it was just a scene from the movie you and Castiel had been watching. When he was about to start walking away again he heard a louder moan and then a scream. He instantly knew the scream was yours. The next thing he heard made his blood boil.
“CASTIEL!”
Your POV:
You had simply just been enjoying watching the porno with Cas when a very intense scene had come on. Making you blush brightly.
“(Y/N), are you blushing?” Castiel looked at you with his head tilted to the side.
“What!?! No, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just hot it all,” you chuckled and fanned your face with your hand.
“I know you’re lying, why are you blushing? Is the pizza man slapping the babysitters rearend making you uncomfortable?” he looked at you more seriously, squinting his eyes slightly.
You looked down to your lap where you were sitting with your legs crossed. “No Cas, it’s not making me uncomfortable at all. I’m just hot,” you chucked softly. You weren’t exactly lying, you just weren’t exactly telling the truth either. How were you supposed to explain to an angel that it was turning you on.
“(Y/N),” Castiel said sternly. “Just tell me, or I’ll simply make you,” he looked at you with a deviant smirk spread on his lips.
“I’m telling you the truth Cas, I promise,” you looked him in the eye.
“Alright, you asked for it,” before you had a chance to respond Castiel had you pinned on your back on the bed. His legs were over your own in a straddling position on your thighs and his hands were on your side. “I’ll give you one more chance to surrender and tell me why you were blushing,” he looked down at you with a small smile that you could see in his eyes. When you looked into his eyes you could see his pupils dilate slightly and he almost looked hungry.
Before you could answer your breath caught in your throat as his hands ghosted over your sides through the thin shirt you were wearing. You could feel something tightening in your stomach as warmth spread throughout your body and before you could realize it your cheeks were an even brighter shade of red. “Cas…” you swallowed thickly and shook your head slightly. In the dim light from the laptop and your lamp on the nightstand you couldn’t help but notice the way it bounced off of his perfect skin. The way his lump, slightly chapped lips looked when he smiled down at you. How incredibly beautiful his baby blues were even while they were being swallowed by blackness. And who could forget his messy raven black hair that looked so tempting to run your hands through it.
He didn’t give you a chance to say anything else before he was grabbing at your sides, tickling you without mercy. You couldn’t help but letting out a scream while trying to push his hands away, all but begging him verbally to stop. “I warned you,” he growled slightly.
He kept moving his hands and you screamed out his name. “CASTIEL!” you kept trying to squirm out of his grasp when all of a sudden you heard a loud slam of a door. Castiel immediately removed his hands from your sides and sit up quickly, just before you heard the sound of glass shattering. Castiel glanced at you and then back at your door before quickly disappearing.
You huffed and pulled yourself up on your bed. “Well this can’t be good.”
...
It had been a few days since you had last saw or even heard from Castiel. You only assumed that it had something to do with his heavenly duties, if only you knew what happened after he left. Dean had also started getting distant, well more distant than normal. Normally by now he’d be trying to get into your pants, again. Your angel and the man you loved were both practically ignoring you, and you had to admit it hurt like a bitch. You never did understand why you felt human emotion considering what you were, half demon and all, but you did and you couldn’t stop it.
So here you were sitting in your hotel room that you would be sharing with both Sam and Dean while on this hunt. The dingy eggshell colored walls were stained with cigarette smoke. The gross puke brown colored carpet looked as though it had seen its fair share of stains. There were two queen sized beds in which you assumed you’d be sharing one with Dean. You just happened to take it upon yourself to claim the one closest to the door, you always felt safest near the exit, just incase you had to make a quick getaway. There was a little fridge in the corner of the room right next to the bathroom door. The small table in the opposite corner already had all of your notes for the hunt scoured acrossed it and their duffle bags were sitting atop the two chairs. Yup, this place was a dump. At least the beds weren’t too stiff, nothing like Dean's memory foam one though.
You layed back on your bed and pulled your phone out of your pocket hoping you’d received some form of message from any of the boys. The only message was from Sam asking what you wanted to eat from the diner they had gone to when Dean got to antsy to sit and do more research on the case. A simple salt n’ burn was what they said but we still hadn’t figured out where the ghost had been buried to burn the bones.
“Nothing, not hungry,” you sat your phone down on your chest and waited for it to beep with a response.
A few minutes passed until it finally beeped. You pulled it up from your chest and looked at the screen.
“Are you sure? I haven’t seen you eat anything for a couple of days,” you couldn’t help but laugh softly, Sam was always the one who tried to look out for your health. Truth was you didn’t need to eat with what you were, of course you did occasionally to keep them of your back even if it wasn’t something you enjoyed.
“Positive, I had some chips earlier,” you hated lying to him but you also needed him off your back.
“Alright (Y/N), just don’t want you to pass out on us while we’re out hunting is all,” his response was almost instant.
You decided to tease him a little, just to make him feel better about the situation. “Sammy, I’m fine. Really. Besides when did you pay attention to what I stuff into my mouth?” you couldn’t help chuckling a little at that.
While you were waiting for a reply you decided to get back to your research. You stood from the bed and went over to the table leaning against it, shaking your butt slightly while reading the spread out papers. You were so into the reading you didn’t even hear the door to the motel open and shut. You were lost in reading one of the obituaries you had missed when you heard someone clear their throat, causing you to jump slightly.
When you turned around clutching your chest you were greeted by two distracted Winchesters. If you did know you were wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a black tank top you would’ve felt naked under their stare. “You know it’s not nice to sneak up on a girl like that boys,” you huffed slightly and ran your hand through your hair.
Dean just rolled his eyes and walked into the bathroom, barely acknowledging your presence. You glanced towards the now closed bathroom door and then back up at the younger Winchester, raising one of your eyebrows at him in question. “Don’t even ask, he’s been like this the past few days, I’m sure he’ll mention what’s bothering him eventually,” he looked at you with those soft eyes you’ve come to love. “And (Y/N)?”
You looked down at your feet scratching the back of your neck, something you always did when you were uncomfortable. “Yeah?”
“Nice blue thong,” he smirked at you and took a few steps towards you, grazing his hand on your arm softly before walking past to the table.
You felt your cheeks heat up at the comment he made and quickly walked to the other side of the room. You didn’t realize that it your shirt had ridden up while you were bent over like that. ‘Great’ you thought, probably the reason behind Dean so rudely walking into the bathroom. Then again why did he have the right to be upset about anything, the man has barely said to words to you. He didn’t even argue with you when you brought a backpack with spare clothe like he normally did. He just gave you a side glance and continued to ignore you.
“Hey, (Y/N/N),” Sam said abruptly, dragging you out of your train of thought.
“Hmm,” you hummed your response while going and grabbing your hoodie from your bag.
“I think this is just what we needed to find the body,” he said while holding the paper you hadn’t finished reading above his head. “Says here the the ghost we’re hunting was buried on a farm about 10 miles from here, she was murdered and they dumped the body there. The family decided to just bury her where she lie I guess,” he shrugged setting the paper down, getting up to grab his jacket he had thrown on the bed he would be claiming for the night.
“Well, let’s grab your brother and go,” you smiled at him while you slipped your hoodie over your head, not realizing you gave him a great view of your cleavage when you lifted up your arms.
He coughed, trying to clear his dry throat. “DEAN, LET’S GO,”
Dean quickly opened the bathroom door still completely dressed and walked straight for the door, opening it and running off to the impala. This was going to be a long night.
…
“DEAN,” you screamed trying to hit the ghost with your iron rod. “HURRY IT UP WILL YA SKIPPY,” you turned around just in time to be thrown across the field, hitting your back against a tree, hard.
“I’M TRYING, FUCK WOMAN,” Dean yelled back while he and Sam tried to pull out all of the remains from the grave.
You groaned in slight pain, pulling yourself up from the tree, thanking your dad you healed quickly. You luckily had moved away from the tree in time before the ghost hurled some sort of farming at your head. “WHY DO I ALWAYS GET GHOST DUTY YOU ASSHATS,” you quickly ran at the ghost hitting it with your iron bar quickly, making it disappear, giving you a short window before it would come back.
“BECAUSE I’M THE PRETTY ONE,” Dean yelled back while dumping the salt on the bones while Sam doused them in lighter fluid.
“I WAS BEING RHETORICAL YOU MORON,” you ran towards them, before you even got a chance to see it the ghost threw Dean away from the grave while moving towards Sam. “I GUESS YOU’RE NOT SO PRETTY ANYMORE,” you couldn’t help but laugh at him. He landed in a giant mud puddle face first and his ass was sticking up in the air.
You made it over to Sam in time to see him swing his iron at the ghost again causing it to disappear, giving you time to pull out your lighter and light the bones on fire.
You stood next to Sam out of breath watching the ghost become engrossed in flames. “You alright?” you huffed turning towards Sam.
“Yeah, are you? You really took a beating,” he looked you up and down placing a hand on your cheek.
“M’okay, just outta breath, the bitch was feisty,” you chuckled and smiled up at him, in which he quickly returned with a full dimpled smile.
“YEAH I’M OKAY TOO,” Dean yelled while pulling himself up from the ground covered in mud and grass.
You looked away from Sam and quickly made your way over to Dean. “Are you hurt?” You looked him over and placed your hands on his cheeks, holding his face while you looked him in the eye.
When you attempted to wipe the mud from his face he pushed your hands away roughly. “Just fine,” he replied through clenched teeth and shoved past you. “I need a drink.”
…
You sat a booth in a stuffy bar that happened to be next to the motel you had been staying at. You hands held your head while you looked down at your glass of whiskey. You couldn’t understand why Dean was being so cold to you, sure he was before but lately it was just too much. When you tried to sit at the booth with him he quickly got up and made his way to the bar and sat on a stool. Was he regretting everything that happened between the two of you? Fuck, why did he have to be so difficult, oh yeah he’s Dean fucking Winchester that’s why.
“Hey, you alright?” you felt a hand on your shoulder and you quickly looked up into the familiar hazel eyes you loved.
“Yeah, Sam. At least, I think so,” you smiled at him but it obviously didn’t reach your eyes.
He quickly sat in the booth across from you and reached out to grab your hand softly. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“Not really,” you sighed as you felt him rub comforting circles across your palm.
“Well, you know I’m here any time you want to,” he gave you his signature dimpled grin and suddenly that's all you could think of.
You nodded. “I know,” you looked around the bar to see if you could find Dean but he wasn’t sitting at the stool he was a little bit ago. “Any idea where your moron brother went?” you looked back over to Sam.
“No idea, bathroom probably,” he shrugged and pulled his hand away from yours, almost immediately making you miss the warmth he offered.
“Probably,” you looked back down at your drink before taking a quick drink to finish it off. “I think I’m gonna head back to the motel, get some rest before the drive home tomorrow. Do you think I could share the bed with you tonight?” you looked at him before standing up.
“Of course (Y/N/N),” he stood up with you. “I’ll head over there soon, I’ll see if I can find Dean and let him know where we went as well as paying the tab,” he pulled you into a side hug.
“Thanks Sammy,” you smiled up at him.
“It’s no problem,” he leaned down and kissed the crown of your head quickly before letting you go. “Might be nice to cuddle with something that isn’t a pillow or my brother,”
“Now who said we would be cuddlin’, Winchester?” you smirked slightly and shook your head.
“That’s the only way you're sleepin’ in my bed (Y/L/N),” he chuckled.
“Fine, just be prepared for my cold feet,” you reached up and patted his cheek.
“I can deal with it,” he gave you a smile and winked before walking off to find Dean.
You just hopped sleeping in the bed with Sam wouldn’t upset Dean more.
...
It only took you about 5 minutes to walk back to the motel and your room. When you got closer to the door you could swear you heard a creaking noise and soft moans. You just pushed it aside, it was probably just coming from one of the other people staying here.
When you got to the door to your room and unlocked the door you weren’t prepared for what you were about to see.
You only got the door open halfway before you heard a grunt and a soft scream. Your instincts made you quickly reach for the gun you kept in your waistband, but when your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the motel room your hand quickly went from your gun to cover your mouth.
Dean was on the bed balls deep in a bottle blonde bimbo with big tits. He was kissing her, something he never, not once did with you. You wanted to scream, cry, and shoot someone. You instantly realized neither of them had realized you opened the door, probably didn’t hear you over her moans.
You quickly shut the door and pressed your forehead against it. How could he? How could he do this to you? Sure you weren’t dating and never talked about being exclusive, but couldn’t he see how you felt. Obviously not.
You clenched your fists so hard your nails started to cut into your palms, you could feel the blackness taking over your eyes. No not now, you wouldn’t lose yourself because of him. You backed away from the door and started walking away from the room. You couldn’t control it anymore. You swing your fist into the first solid substance you could find, which was a door a few rooms away from yours. “GOD DAMN IT,” the punch was hard enough to break the door off the hinges. You took a deep breath, luckily no one was staying in that room, or else you’d have to explain how one punch took down a door.
You quickly made your way to the impala, you weren’t sure why but Dean had parked it in the back of the parking lot, even though there were little to no other cars around. Then again after what you just witnessed you didn’t give a fuck about what he thought or did anymore. You just needed to calm down before Sam came back, he was probably still trying to find Dean.
When you made it to the impala you leaned back against the hood, even if it was Dean's baby, it always had ways of calming you down. You ran your hand through your hair and back down your face, trying to calm yourself down. ‘Control, you need to keep control.’ you kept saying to yourself in your mind.
You took a deep breath and held your palms to your face. You could feel the tears as they ran down your cheeks. “God damnit, you will not cry over that asshole.”
“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” that sweet voice brought you back from the edge quickly. He always had a way of soothing you, without even trying.
“Yeah Sam, I’m alright,” you kept your hands over your eyes until they finally returned to their normal color.
“Why aren’t you in the room?” he came up to you, only standing about a foot away.
“Dean decided to bring back some company,” you sniffed softly, if he hadn’t been so close, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. “He’s in there fucking her right now,” you ran both hands up and through your hair.
Sam leant down slightly and put both hands on your cheeks, cupping your face. “Are you sure you’re okay? I know what you guys had wasn’t exactly a relationship, but he shouldn’t have done that,” he moved his thumbs over your cheeks to wipe away any missed tears.
“It is what it is Sammy,” you smiled up at him softly. “I should’ve expected it to end sooner or later, you know. He never even kissed me,” you chuckled softly.
He pulled you into a tight hug, holding you to his chest tightly. “You know Deans an asshole, mostly due to the mark, but an asshole nonetheless,” he kissed your head softly.
“Yeah I guess so, I didn’t really get to know him too much before the mark, but I know he’s still good inside. Somewhere,” you smiled into his chest. “Hey Sam?”
“Hmm,” he hummed in response as he rubbed soothing circles into your back.
“You never answered my question in my text earlier,” you pulled away from him slightly took look him in the eye.
He looked down at the ground and rubbed the back of his neck, leaving his other hand resting on your waist. “You’ll laugh at me.”
“I promise I won’t, tell me please,” you put your hand on his cheek to draw his eyes back to you. You even gave him the best puppy dog eyes you possibly could.
“I like you (Y/N), I care about you and your well being,” Sam explained, sighing softly while leaning into your hand. “As for paying attention to what you stuff in your mouth, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you, among other things,” he let out a soft chuckle.
You leaned into him slightly, leaving only about 2 inches of space between your mouths. “What other things, Sammy?” you used the hand not on his cheek to move up his chest.
His eyes glanced down at your lips before making eye contact with you again, “I can’t help but wonder what your lips would feel like against my body,” he moved closer, his lips brushing against your cheek before whispering in your ear. “About how they’d feel wrapped around my cock while you suck me off. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you (Y/N), Dean’s an idiot for taking you for granted.”
You could feel the warmth burn through your body with need, Sam Winchester wanted you and you wanted him just as bad. You couldn’t think of anything more than the arousal that pooled between your legs and how badly it ached. You knew in the back of your mind this was wrong, you loved Dean, but he also just proved to you he didn’t feel like that about you.
You knew that if it weren’t for Sam right now you may have let the blackness inside consume you, you may not have been in love with him but you still did love him. Dean caused you to almost lose control, Sam helped wrangle it back, however the demon in you needed more. You needed more. You needed the release to ease yourself back to the ground, you needed control again.
You leaned back slightly looking up at Sam, his pupils were blown with lust and you knew he wanted it just as bad. You quickly grabbed the collar to his shirt and pulled him to you. You pressed your body against his tightly, ghosting your lips over his. “Then what’s stopping you?”
He didn’t waste another second before crashing his lips to yours in a hungry, needy kiss. One of your arms wrapped around his shoulders pulling him closer while the other grasped his hair tightly. His tongue ran across your bottom lip and you immediately opened your mouth granting him access. Your tongues battles for dominance in which you gladly gave to him, letting him run his tongue along the insides of your mouth.
One of his hands pressed into the small of your back firmly, keeping you tightly against him, while the other rested against your neck. When the need for air finally caught up to you, he pulled away slightly, breathing heavily. His beautiful hazel eyes almost completely consumed in the blacks of his pupils. “Are you sure (Y/N)?”
You nodded, breathing heavily. “Yes Sam, I want you,” you smiled up at him, showing your perfect teeth.
He ran his hand up into your hair and gripped it tightly, pulling your head back and exposing your neck. “Question is, where do I fuck you senseless baby girl?” he bit down on your neck sharply, kissing and licking the mark to sooth it.
“Well, the moron is in the room so why not use his precious baby?” you smirked, loving your idea to taint that assholes most prized possession, because let's face it you were beyond the point of caring anymore. All you wanted to do was feed your demons so you could keep them at bay, didn’t care where he fucked you into oblivion.
Sam smiled wickedly and chuckled. “I don’t have the keys, so where do you suggest? The hood?”
“Why not, it’s late. No cars have driven by in the past hour, not to mention we’re at the back of the parking lot. No one would notice,” you licked your bottom lip as you ran your hand across his broad shoulder. “Even if they did, doesn’t mean they wouldn’t enjoy the show.”
“You have no idea how sexy you are right now,” Sam pulled your hair again, nipping and licking your jaw.
You reached up and put your hand on the nape of his neck, quickly pulling him down to kiss you again. This was slower, more deliberate. By the time his tongue was back in your mouth, his hands were on the backs of your thighs. He quickly lift you and set you on the hood of Baby.
You smiled against his lips and pulled him between your legs by his belt. “I know we can’t get completely naked, but there’s always next time,” you mumbled against him while you unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants.
He hummed in response pulling away from your lips to kiss and nip at your neck. You moved back a little to pull off your hoodie while he worked on unbuttoning and pulling off your jeans. You lifted your hips to make it easier and when you came back down you were greeted with the cold metal against your hot skin, but at that moment you just didn’t care.
Sam quickly pulled the straps to your tank top down so it could pool around your waist. He took a moment to gaze down at your almost naked form, you took it upon yourself to removed the straps of your black bra and pull the cups down to give him a better view.
He moved his hands up your sides and rested them just under your boobs. You nipples hardened as the cool breeze blew against your skin. You closed your eyes and leaned back against the hood, which earned you a groan from Sam. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.”
Before you had a chance to respond and open your eyes he had started kissing down your collarbone to your left breast. Licking and nipping the sensitive skin around the nipple, avoiding the one place you wanted his mouth the most. You arched your back up to his touch as a soft moan left your lips.
He moved his hand to your right breast and started to knead it softly, rubbing his thumb across your nipple, causing another moan to fall from your lip. “Sam..” you couldn’t help the slip of his name when he finally took your nipple into his mouth sucking and biting it.
When your hand snaked its way into his hair and pulled slightly he groaned in response, the vibration causing more pleasure to work its way into your core.
Sam let go of your left nipple and kissed his way across the valley of your chest to your right, taking it into his mouth and running his tongue against it. You were so lost in the feeling of his mouth on your chest you didn’t notice his hand move lower until it pulled your little blue thong to the side.
He gently ran his finger along your slit, causing you to gasp at the sudden contact. “Mmm, already soaking baby girl,” he said before he ran his tongue from the center of your chest up to your neck. “Do you want me to fuck you with my big cock?”
You couldn’t help the whimper that left your lips when he slid a finger into your entrance and gently nudged your clit with his thumb. “Y-yes,” you also couldn’t help how wrecked your voice was.
When he pulled his finger out he quickly replaced adding another as well while he kissed up your jaw to your ear. “You’re so tight baby,” he whispered in your ear as he began scissoring his fingers inside of you.
You wrapped your arm around his neck, using the other to keep you steady on the hood. “Ugh, Sam. Take your pants off, please baby,” you said with a slight whine in your voice.
He nipped your jaw lightly and added a third finger inside of you, curving them into a come hither motion, immediately hitting the sweet spot inside of you. You couldn’t help the loud moan of his name slip your lips. He worked you quickly into an orgasm, what threw you over the edge completely was the sharp bite to your shoulder.
Sam worked you through your orgasm and used his other hand to keep you steady on the hood of the impala. When he finally pulled his hand out of your entrance you made quick work of sitting up and started tugging at his pants. “Please baby, need you inside of me.”
He grabbed both of your hands roughly and pushed them behind your back. “Eager much?” he chuckled while bringing the hand he used to finger you up to his lips, putting them into his mouth and humming, keeping your hands pinned behind you with the other. “You taste better than I could imagine. Next time I’m eating you out right.”
You groaned in response to him tasting you on his fingers. “Please Sam,” you whimpered softly.
He quickly crashed his lips back on yours again and used the hand not holding yours to push down his pants and boxers just enough to release his hard length. He pressed the head against your clothed pussy causing you to whimper against his lips.
Before you had time to react he tore your thong off of you in one quick movement with one hand and put them on the hood. “I’m keeping those,” he mumbled against your mouth when he released your hands. “You ready?”
“God, yes,” you moaned when you felt the head of his dick graze you swollen clit.
You moved one hand down between you and grasped him tightly, lining him up to your entrance, groaning at how big he was. ‘What was it with Winchesters and being so big’ you thought to yourself.
He slowly pushed himself into you, groaning as each inch made its way in. “Fuck, you’re so tight and wet baby girl,” he growled into your ear as he pulled one of your legs tightly against his hip.
“All for you Sam,” you moaned when he thrust the rest of the way into you. He let you adjust to his size for a moment before slowly pulling out, causing you to whimper softly as the loss of feeling him stretch you.
He licked up the pulse point on your neck before slamming back into you, causing you to scream softly. “You take my cock so good baby,” he continued slamming into you at an unforgivable pace.
You quickly wrapped one arm around his neck holding him close to you as he kept slamming into you. He quickly raised your leg higher on his waist, hitting your g-spot almost every time. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten, causing you to clench around him tightly.
“Fuck Sam,” you moaned out and moved your other hand into his hair, pulling it roughly, earning you a groan from him and an even harder thrust.
“Cum for me baby, I know you’re close. I wanna feel you cum on my cock,” he growled into your ear before biting the pulse point on your neck. His thrusts started to falter rhythm and you knew he was close too
“Cum with me,” you moaned out throwing your head back.
He grunted in response. A few more thrusts and you could feel his hot release inside of you, triggering your own orgasm. “SAM!” you screamed.
Dean POV:
Dean laid back on the motel bed with his arm over his face just listening to the sounds of clothes shuffling and feet moving around the room. He had no idea why he did what he did, he just knew that he was angry and when the first person who had a nice face and a decent pair of tits flirted with him, he made the choice to fuck his anger out. He just had to go and ruin the moment when he moaned your name, he knew the blonde woman told him her name but the only thing he could think of was you. Why did he have to be in love with you, after what he heard in your room with Cas he knew you didn’t feel the same way. So, why were you still the only thing he could think of even when he was balls deep inside another woman.
“You know, whoever that (Y/N) is, you might want to tell her how you feel,” the blonde said, breaking him out of his thoughts.
He moved his arm away from his face and sat up in the bed. The only thing covering his still naked body being the then sheet of the bed. “Look, I’m sorry about that. I jus-.”
The blonde quickly cut him off. “ Look, Dean was it? You don’t have to explain yourself, in all honesty I didn’t care much because you were a good lay,” she smiled at him genuinely.
“But?” he raised his eyebrow in question.
“If you want my advice, don’t push away a good thing. You moaning her name practically the entire time just showed you didn’t really want me or anyone else for that matter,” she had already finished dressing and was putting on her shoes at this point. “Take it from someone who knows, I pushed away a good man and now I’m just doing the one night stand thing so I don’t get caught up in feelings again,” she stood quickly and slung her bag over her shoulder. “I’m guessing the fact you were fucking me you guys aren’t a thing currently, don’t lose the chance honey. Life is short, take any chance you can get, especially if you love her.”
“Uh-” he ran his hand through his hair and looked down at his lap. Before he could say anything else she interrupted him again.
“If by chance if doesn’t work out though and you happen to be in town again. Look me up,” she winked at him before quickly exiting the room.
He laid back down on the bed with a thump and groaned to himself. “FUCK,” he yelled. If a chick from the bar could tell how he felt before he came to accept it, maybe she was right. You were perfect and all he was doing as pushing you away. You weren’t exclusive or anything when he heard what he did so maybe if he told you how he felt, you felt the same way. Be damned if you fucked Cas, who wouldn’t want to be with you. You were a fucking goddess.
Dean sat up quickly and got out of bed. “Damnit,” he stood quickly and looked for his clothes that had been thrown around the room. He needed to talk to you about how he felt before he lost you for good.
He found his jeans and tshirt and decided he would just go commando, hopefully you were still at the bar with Sam. He sighed and quickly slipped his boots on before grabbing the keys to Baby and his wallet, just incase you weren’t there.
He rushed out the door, grabbing his jacket and phone that were resting by it. His stomach was in knots, there was no denying he was nervous.
As he made his way down the hallway with his head down to stare at the ground trying to think about what he was going to say to you. That’s when he heard hushed voices coming from a little further down the hallway.
“How the fuck did the door end up like this?” a man with a baseball hat whisper yelled.
“How am I supposed to know? I was doing rounds when I noticed it,” a woman dressed in a maids uniform answered.
Dean couldn’t help but stop behind them to see what they were talking about. Luckily they were both shorter then him so he could see past. The solid oak door that would normally match the others were hanging just barely off the hinges. It was splintered and almost broken in half. Whatever did that must have had decent strength, if he had tried to do that it would’ve taken him a few good kicks, on a good day. It was a good thing no one occupied the room or else they may have had a heart attack.
It took him a moment to compose himself before quickly making his way down the rest of the hallway and down the stairs to the parking lot. ‘Maybe it was something of the supernatural sorts that broke the door’ he thought to himself and shook his head. If it had been then it would’ve been the door to their room that had been smashed because most things that hunted them were smart enough to go to the right room. “Probably just some domestic,” he chuckled to himself as he made his way to the bar.
As he was about to cross the street to the bar he heard a grunt followed by a moan. He looked around quickly trying to place where the sounds had been coming from. “What the hell?” he quickly reached to his waistband for his gun only just now realizing he had left it in the hotel room. “Fuck.”
He turned back towards the parking lot and began walking back quietly. Maybe he could make it to baby to grab a weapon if it was a monster. The closer he got to the car however the noises grew louder.
He attempted to keep in the shadows as best he could as he moved closer. That’s when he saw Sam standing next to the hood of the impala with his pants around his thighs and legs around his waist.
He inwardly groaned to himself and whispered quietly. “Fucking gross, Sam,” he had to keep himself from gagging as he watched his little brother plow into whoever he picked up from the bar. ‘Wait, if Sam’s here where’s (Y/-’ his thoughts were cut short when he heard your voice.
“Fuck Sam,” Dean instantly felt his heart drop. You were fucking his brother. First Cas, and now Sam.
He almost felt like crying with how much it hurt, then again he was just having sex with some blonde he just met. His brother though, that was low.
Dean began walking away from the impala. He needed a drink, or ten. You were fucking his brother, on his goddamn car. He didn’t even realize it when he made it back over to the bar, the only thing that brought him back to reality was when he heard you scream.
One of the most common techniques used by writers to help make their story more engaging is to use multiple points of view. This can certainly be quite a refreshing change for a reader, and it can be extremely interesting to see how characters on different sides and with different information react to the same situation. However, it is not with pitfalls. Perhaps the most common mistake is that of sameness. Having different points of view does not help a story if those points of view end up being too similar.
Consider two characters: one is a battle-hardened soldier and the other is a rookie who has only just arrived at the front. The contrast between the two should be obvious here. The battle-hardened soldier is likely more adept at analysing and responding to combat situations due to his superior training and experience. He might also be more cynical and jaded about the conflict due to the loss of comrades in battle or simply from the stress of being at the front for so long. In contrast, the rookie might be expected to make more mistakes and to be more naive about the true realities of warfare.
The two points of view offered by the veteran and the rookie thus have the potential to offer the reader two very different sides of the story. But what if both points of view end up sounding the same? What if the rookie is some kind of combat genius who immediately acquires the skills and nous of the veteran, along with the weariness and mental exhaustion common to those who have been at the front for a long time? If that happens, then what is the point of having two different points of view?
A simple test is to imagine switching the names for each point of view. If you can do that without it coming across as weird, then it’s likely the different points of view aren’t different enough. Each character should be a character unto themselves, someone the reader can distinguish from others and whom the reader sees as unique and engaging in their own right.
When handled properly, different points of view can also be used to distinguish characters who would, at first glance, seem quite similar, perhaps even too similar. Consider the snippets below concerning two bureaucrats, both of whom have been working the same job for the better part of twenty years. Nevertheless, their points of view give each of them a unique feel and personality.
Bob stared at the form in front of him. Another piece of paperwork to add to the pile. His lips curled, and his gaze drifted to the poor schmuck who had to deal with Form A-10 Section C. The poor bastard had no idea what he was in for. Even if he somehow managed to get this notarised by the right person, there was no way he’d get it processed in the month before it was due for submission. He might as well set it on fire. It would do the same amount of good, and at least it would be fun.
“Next!” Bob barked as he added the form to the towering stack on his desk. When no one moved, quite possibly because spending too much time in this place had robbed them of their will to live, he raised his voice, “Next!”
Another person. Another form. Another damn number. He sighed. Where had all the years gone? Wasn’t he supposed to be promoted out of this place by now? He finally forced himself to study the form in front of him. He sighed again. Had this person even bothered to read the instructions?
“Please, read the instructions carefully,” he began, reciting the words he’d spoken so many times they were burned into his brain. “You’re supposed to put your identification number in Box 2A and your name in Box 2B. Please, take the form back with you and resubmit it once you’ve made the necessary changes. Next.”
They stammered. “Wait! I’ve been here for five hours and -”
“Next!”
As you can see, Bob isn’t exactly enamoured with his job. How about someone else in his line of work?
Jim flipped through the stack of paperwork with brisk efficiency. With unerring accuracy and unmatched speed, he spotted each mistake and circled them in pencil. The awestruck customer could only gape in stunned disbelief at his incredible display of bureaucratic kung fu.
“Just make those changes and hand it back. No need to wait in line. Everything else checks out.” The customer stumbled off in a daze, and Jim shifted his attention to the line of people waiting to submit their forms. “Next, please.”
He almost made a little tutting sound as he spotted the mistake on the next customer’s form. The name and identification number had been put into the wrong boxes. It was such a common mistake that he’d actually lobbied the higher ups to change it. Alas, they had yet to reply to one of his twenty emails on the subject. Oh well. Persistence would eventually pay off as it always did when it came to bureaucracy. He fixed the mistake and checked the details once to be sure before motioning the next customer forward.
“Next!”
As you can see, Bob and Jim have two very different viewpoints. Any story involving the two of them will look very different depending on who is telling it. This is likely to help interest and engage the reader because instead of just being different view points in name, they are different view points in substance. Bob and Jim have a different way of seeing the world, and it is reflected in their points of view.
The key to using different points of view is to ensure that they really are different points of view. No two characters are identical. Their viewpoints shouldn’t be either.
If you want to read more about my thoughts on writing, you can find those here.
I also write original fiction, which you can find here.
RELATIVITY: A Time Travel Thriller For The YouTube Generation
Spectacular tales of time travel, such as H.G. Wells’ classic novel THE TIME MACHINE, the long-running BBC series DOCTOR WHO, and the BACK TO THE FUTURE trilogy (just to name a few) have thrilled audiences for decades. The new, non-linear sci-fi series RELATIVITY is a special entry into that p...
http://snobbyrobot.com/2017/03/20/relativity-a-time-travel-thriller-for-the-youtube-generation/
Just like every technique and stylistic choice, there are good and bad ways to do multiple points of view. For some people, the point of view of a book will determine whether they’ll read it or not. I can’t say I have ever personally gone through a phase where I straight-up hated the choice as a whole. Except for in Eldest. (Christopher Paolini, you know what you did.)
However.
For some reason,…
