CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS // SPN & OTHER CHARACTERS Prompt Post // June 1-15
This post is for ANY AND ALL SPN & OTHER CHARACTER PROMPTS. Characters from other fandoms are allowed as long as the main pairing includes one Supernatural character. Reminder: all prompts with characters under the age of 18 should be posted to the underage post.
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I want Dean seducing Sam with his blood, essentially turning him into the new king of hell.
I don't want full on 100% asshole or non con, blood play, knife play, come play yes. No scat or necro please. Other than that, knock yourself out.
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No non con or 100% asshole Dean or Sam, same with the Necro and Scat play. Just no.
Yes to Dub Con, Knife play, Come play, Blood Play.. and another kinks you want to throw in.
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He pops the last of the burger into his mouth and pushes the shake towards Sam.
“They use real strawberries.” Dean bounces his brows.
Sam doesn’t move, except to dart a glance to the cup and back again.
Dean makes a point of wilting visibly. “Why’re you doing this to yourself, Sam? I mean, come on. Look at me. Do I look unhappy? Huh? Do I look like the lifestyle ain’t agreeing with me?”
Sam sits up a little straighter, seems to pay the slightest bit more attention to what Dean’s saying instead of leveling a gun at his junk. Fact is, Dean knows he looks damned good, sitting squarely in his prime and burning hot with hellfire, and there’s no way Sam can deny it.
So he worms through that opening, icepick-sneaky and smooth as high-grade motor oil. “Hell, you tried, man, I know. I know. I felt ( ... )
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Fucking stupid question, really. Sam knows why. Better question is: why not? Dean simply lets his eyes tick black and shrugs. It’s what I do, Sam. Take care of you. Of us.
Sam rocks back on his ass, slumps against the wall. The posture throws his face into the dark, but Dean can see through the gloom as clear as glass. He’s crying, Sam is. Gritting his teeth to stay quiet, but tears and sweat roll down his face, and the tips of his hair shudder with droplets. The want oozes from his pores.
Dean sits down, crossed-legged, and settles in to wait. It’ll get worse before it gets better. If Sam’s smart, he’ll leave and detox far, far away from his drug. Twenty minutes later though, Sam is still there, scratching at his arms, his t-shirt plastered wetly to his chest. Because Dean knows damned well that Sam doesn’t want to leave. He wants Dean to see how much damage he’s wrought, but what Sam doesn’t get is that this isn’t damage; this is deconstruction. There’s a fuck-ton of difference. Deconstruction is breaking ( ... )
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Sam kicks over the ritual bowl and the sound is over-loud, careening off the hard walls. Another step.
Dean flips the Blade around and holds it by the sharp edge, presenting the handle to Sam. Dean can’t reach beyond the confines of the devil’s trap, but he won’t need to. Sam reaches in, his fingers trembling so badly, he can barely grip.
The Blade shrieks in Dean’s brain kill kill kill kill, but Dean tells it to have faith and patience, cool its fucking jets, that this is the better way-that it won’t go hungry for long. Best to wait for the banquet than to lick at crumbs ( ... )
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The Mark blazes like a fresh hot brand and the Blade chitters madly. Sam’s nostrils are flaring, and he’s not looking at Dean; it’s like he can’t. Dean knows his tainted blood is staining its way through Sam’s system, through the skin and sinew, vessels and cells until finally, it will find the soul-that pretty, shiny thing Sam didn’t used to want, once upon a time, but now is so fiercely proud of ( ... )
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(I screwed up the numbering; sorry mods! I can never figure it out. I hope I didn't leave out text...my apologies if I did!)
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I was worried because it is ridiculously lacking in anything truly resembling sexy times, but my kinks kinda veer in other directions, though I tried, I truly did! I'm soooo glad it did something right. :)
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