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wildefiction · 5 years

Text

The Beast Inside

PAIRING: Sam x Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,063

SUMMARY: Reader has been hunting with the Winchesters for several years now. She's always had a thing for Sam...not that she'd ever admit to it. But recently, Sam's been different. Cold. Calculating. Scary. When the reader witnesses what's happening, will she turn from him or will her attraction allow her to justify his new behavior?

WARNINGS: Anxiety, Trust Issues, Soulless!Sam, Murder, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Dom/Sub Undertones, Rough Sex, A Smidge of Breath Play

A/N: This was written for @hornsbeforehalos 666 Follower Challenge last year. My prompt was: 'He who makes a beast out of himself, gets rid of the pain of being a man."

The metallic, copper thickness coating his tongue was simultaneously entrancing and revolting. An almost comical adaptation of small figures on ones’ proverbial shoulder. One egging him on, the other shrinking back in disgust at his newly predatory behavior. The first time it had happened Sam had woken in his bed, much like any other night - this one perhaps a little more sleepless than the rest. Shuffling down the hall to the nearest bathroom, he’d absentmindedly flicked on the light, the harsh fluorescents illuminating the space; a dull buzzing echoing around the room. Reaching for the calcium-stained faucets that lent a cool reprieve from his consistently rising body temperature, he’d first noticed the dark residue beneath his fingernails. When the water poured forth from the stainless steel spout, that residue had sloughed away - hitting the white porcelain and blossoming into crimson flowers, like some macabre art exhibit. Eyes widening, Sam caught his reflection in the mirror. Dark purple circles edged red-rimmed eyes, his hair disheveled from what he assumed had been sleep. The night terrors had prevented any semblance of rest. Delirious, he could remember nothing from the previous few days.

At first, he struggled with it. Fought against the rising panic. Blood was part of the job, maybe he’d simply forgotten to scrub beneath his nails after the last case? As the weeks wore on however, small bits of detail too sharp and mundane to be dreams lingered in the corners of his mind when he was awake. Almost like memories. Regardless of how intricate the minutia, his inability to remember entire events is what intrigued him the most. His constant struggle with the fate thrust upon him as an infant quieted in these times. There was no worry about the demon blood coursing through his veins, nor was there an ounce of shame or distress at the idea of letting his big brother down. Sam’s failures lessened and he came to embrace the idea of entire blocks of time disappearing from his conscious.

*** 12 weeks later**

Dried flecks of crimson hit the cool, white porcelain -- the clean purity of the surface now somehow marred, tainted by the blood. Running water circled the drain, washing away any evidence of the brutality that had occured just hours before. Violet cupped her hands together beneath the flow, watching as it quickly filled the makeshift basin before raising them to splash the liquid over her fevered skin.

Three. It'd been the third body in as many days. Things were getting out of control. Violet padded from the bathroom through the dim hallway of the bunker. The twisted, black wall sconces glowed with a dull, golden glow - lighting a path to the end of the hallway where he was waiting.

Sam had been..different lately. At first Violet had figured it was an adjustment disorder. Coming back from the deepest pits of Hell could make anyone act erratically. But the more time passed, the worse Sam became. The gentle, research-loving man she'd hunted alongside for the past three years was gone. Sure, he still looked the same, he still recognized you and Dean and even Cas but he was also a lot more calculated - almost to the point of being empty, as if there was no emotion left at all.

Raising a hand, you tentatively knocked at the solid oak door.

No answer.

Closing your eyes, you very nearly turned and just went back to your own room. It would've been easier. Steeling yourself and shaking out the nerves that prickled along your spine, you tried a second time. The echoing thud of your heartbeat almost matched the hollow sound of your fist on the barrier between you and Sam. For a moment there was silence, and then you heard it; the quiet shuffle of bare feet across thick carpet. If you were tense before, nothing prepared you for the surge of adrenaline that spread from the base of your neck through the rest of your body as the solid door opened and Sam filled its frame.

Truth be told, he'd always been imposing. Being six and a half feet tall, it was a given. His mannerisms hadn't been the only thing to change in his absence however. His entire body was different; eye level with his massive chest your mouth was suddenly dry. Almost as long as you'd known the Winchesters, you'd had a thing for Sam. He was one of those people who just didn't realize they were beautiful. You never mentioned it though, eventually settling into an easy friendship with the brothers had dampened the fire living in your belly. Sure, on occasion there was playful flirting and comments that reddened your cheeks, but little by little the winged-flutters quieted into a sort of easy contentment.

“Violet.” There was a lilt at the end of the word, almost a question as to why you stood at his door. Was his voice deeper? Had it always sounded that way? Blinking several times in rapid succession, you abandoned the thoughts trying to invade the more sensible parts of your brain. “Hey Sam, I..” “mmhm" “do you..?” “are..how are you?” Wondering exactly why you were standing before him, Sam’s lip twitched in amusement even as his eyes narrowed, the hazel irises swimming with colors you'd never noticed. Teal and spring green mixed with the more muted hues holding you captive. The man had the gall to laugh at your flustered appearance, stepping forward until his body brushed against yours. “I'm good; was about to watch a movie. Wanna join me?” That dazzling smile slid into place and you could almost believe the old Sam stood before you. Something in the back of your mind cautioned you to be wary, but it was such a small blip that you very nearly hadn’t noticed it at all.

Before Hell, the two of you would often spend the occasional quiet evening watching old, black and white television. Silent movies had always been amusing, the use of exaggerated body language providing all the dialogue needed. So, you accepted his offer; hoping against hope that it would be like old times.

Looking around the room, nothing had changed. Rows of books sat neatly on shelves flanking his large bed, the lamps alit on each end-table bathing the space in low light. Perching on the end of the mattress Violet watched Sam fuss briefly with the television before sitting next to her. “You okay?” Sam had turned to look at the girl and it didn’t take a rocket-scientist to notice her anxiety.” Hey... it’s just me, how many times have we watched movies together - hm?” Reluctantly you tabled the concerns you’d wanted to voice aloud, little by little allowing yourself to relax. Sam scooted to the head of bed and patted the space next to him. Apparently you took too long to move and he had no problems wrapping one massive arm around your waist and hauling you into the space he occupied; grunting with the effort.

The television flickered to life, shortly thereafter you realized he’d chosen Bram Stoker’s Dracula. A favorite of his. Soon, the two of you were back to laughing at the campy effects and trying to decipher messages hidden in the storyline. Legs crossed around a now empty mixing bowl that had held a mountain of popcorn, you finally relaxed against the man sitting behind you. While the position was more intimate than any you’d been in before, it didn’t feel out of place. You were simply friends enjoying each others company. Just like before.

Launching into a lively debate on the themes of the film pushed the rest of your doubt to the wayside. “I never understood this part really, why does he turn into a wolf and a bat type..thing?” “He seems to be winning her over just fine as a man.” Sam shifted into a sitting position; legs still framing your body as he leaned into you. His golden skin hot against your back - “ Sometimes , ‘He who makes a beast out of himself, gets rid of the pain of being a man.’ ” His mouth brushed against your ear, the words a mere growl. Abruptly that fire was back, spreading through your limbs even as his arms tightened around your body. Teeth closing upon the lobe of one ear, the words faded into silence. “Sam, what are you doing?”

Silence.

His lips were now pressed against the thud of your pulse point. In all the years of flirting and sidelong glances, nothing had ever progressed beyond that point. “I know how you feel about me Violet.” For a brief second you wanted to deny his accusations, tell him it was all in his head. In the course of trying to figure out what to say, the silence was answer enough. “The walls are pretty thin…” he was laughing again. “Honestly though? It was sexy as fuck .” The last word was barely a groan. Turning wide eyes to meet his expression was a bad idea. The darkness was back; an expanding ring of lichen rapidly filling his normally bright eyes when he pushed his mouth to yours. The kiss exploded into wandering hands, heavy breath and snapping teeth. The comfortable embrace from earlier tightening into one that crushed your body against his, palms steady on his chest when he gripped your thighs, pulling them to straddle his lap.

The swell of his arms encircling your waist; his thick fingers digging into your hips reminded you of the strength the man possessed. What he was capable of.

Flashes of red ripped through your mind when you allowed your eyes to fall shut and enjoy Sam’s touch.

So much blood. You were covered in it. Sam was drenched to the elbow, a broken body lay in a heap by his feet. The night was supposed to have been a fun trip out for a couple of drinks, instead becoming a grisly admission of what you had been trying to deny. Yes, the man had been lewd, his comments about your outfit leaving little to the imagination - but you had paid him little mind. Having him follow you out of the bar though..

Sam turned his attention back to you, as if what he'd done had meant nothing..

“Sam, wait a minute..Sam we nee--Aahh!” The hunter chose that moment to roll his hips, the cotton sleep pants you wore barely deflecting his intentions. “Fuhhngck me..” The words hadn't been intended for him, more of an exclamation at the situation, but Sam answered you all the same. “Oh, sweetheart I plan on it.”

And then you were on your back, a yelp of surprise escaping your lips at the sudden change. Sam's broad hands curled around your hips, flipping you to your stomach and pulling your ass in the air. You felt ridiculous, your chest pressed to the cool, inky sheets. The complaint never made it past your swollen lips, a chill breeze assaulting fevered skin when the pajama bottoms were yanked from your hips. Your body vibrated and you had only a brief moment to wonder if it was from the sudden change in temperature or the anticipation of what was to come. Sam's face nudged against your panty-covered ass, his thick, warm tongue swiping over the bit of satin and lace. Once. Then again. A deep growl accompanied his eager teasing and suddenly you forgot what you'd been about to say, instead pushing back against his roaming tongue - yearning for more.

Hot bursts of breath fanned over your delicate skin, the damp fabric between your legs clinging to you, Sam's nose brushing against it while his tongue greedily consumed everything your body offered. Fevered panting matched the beads of sweat dotting your forehead, a high-pitched whine escaping when Sam twisted his hand in the ruined silk and pulled - the sound of splitting seams and tearing fabric sending an unexpected shiver of delight through your body.

He was a monster, he deserved to die.

That's when it started. You justifying Sam's actions.

Sam's tongue flattened and dragged through your folds, the tip flicking against the swollen bundle of nerves nestled within. Closing his lips around you, he sucked in earnest while one long finger traced your inner thigh - teasing but not giving in to your pleas. “Fuck, Sam... please..” Not one, but two fingers sunk into your body then, a low groan filtering between your lips at the sound of your core accepting his ministrations.

“That's it baby...fuck you're so wet. S’that all for me?” Truth be told, Sam had wanted this for as long as he could remember. Coming back from Hell, he found most of his memories were gone. You though...you he remembered. His cock strained against the pants slung low on his hips; one palm closed over his erection, the pressure alleviating a bit of the uncomfortable sensation; his hips rutting gently against his touch, almost of their own accord.

Eyes flicking between his cock and Violet’s swollen cunt, he pulled his fingers from her body, the wet sound assaulted his ears and it took everything he had to not take her just like this.

The quickness with which Violet was on him took Sam by surprise. Not that the hunter dwelled on it for long. The woman kneeling before him was different than the Violet he thought he knew. Lust-blown pupils zeroed in on him as she dove beneath the elastic band of his scrub bottoms-turned pajama pants. There was no hesitation when she wrapped her fingers around his thick base, and he groaned at the sensation of finally having this particular dream come true.

Pushing the fabric down his muscular thighs, you wasted no time in wrapping your lips around his head, swiping your tongue across the drops of precum that dotted the surface.

Sam's hands wove themselves in your hair, his fingers flexing with the effort it took to not twist the locks in his painful grasp. He’d never hurt you. Not without you directly asking for it anyway. He knew your frustrations with him. The old him had done everything in his power to avoid killing anything. Whether the particular thing in question deserved it or not. He was a monster. He’d told himself that often enough, that he’d started to believe it. The looks Dean gave him when he thought Sam wasn’t looking only further solidified those beliefs. And so he gave the things they hunted the benefit of the doubt until he couldn’t. That was before. Now, he really couldn’t muster the strength to give two fucks whether they were innocent - the less time he spent on each case, the more cases he cou-- fuck . This girl knew how to suck cock. Sam’s head flung back, his thick auburn mane brushing his shoulders. Whimpers leaked from Violet’s lips, excess saliva and her probing tongue almost too much.

His fingers tightened more and he pulled back from her mouth, leaving the woman gasping - her eyes slow in re-focusing as she looked up at his pained expression.

Sam cupped your face, his wide hands cradling your cheeks even as he brushed tendrils of stray hair away from your wide eyes. He pulled you close then, and you became intimately aware of the heat of his lips as they descended on yours, his tongue almost gentle in its exploration of your mouth. Grabbing your waist and pulling you close, Sam’s cock brushed your belly, his brilliant eyes searching yours as you wrapped arms around his shoulders; sweat-soaked skin burning beneath your touch. Boldly you sought his attention, lining yourself up against his body, a challenge in your eyes.

When Sam trembled against you, his eyes fell shut with the effort of not moving too fast. Violet wrapped her long fingers around his length, bringing him closer and tracing the thickness of him through her folds. That was the final push Sam needed, his eyes snapped open, his grip tightening around her waist as he pushed his way into her core - the heat enveloping his cock and eagerly pulsing around him. He struggled to remain still, letting Violet adjust to the intrusion. She was eager though, clenching her walls and dragging herself up to catch his mouth with hers again almost immediately. A ragged breath flew from her lips as she cried out, “Sam, Sam move, please!” The hunter didn't need to be told twice, a growl bubbling up from his ribcage at her request - hands that had been holding her to his chest now threaded into her hair and twisted, pulling a moan of pleasure from the woman straddling his waist - “Fuck Violet..damn baby..” Coherent sentences escaped him as he rocked his hips up into her body and she met him thrust for thrust, wanton cries of pleasure filling the room around him accompanied the sounds of skin colliding against skin.

Violet’s fingers whitened around the tips as her grip tightened, nails biting into Sam’s broad shoulders as the first ripples of an orgasm passed through her, a wave of slick coating her thighs while Sam continued his onslaught. The desperate clenching of her muscles around his length caused Sam to stutter, the biting heat of her nails in his skin building layers of his own release up, his hips snapping towards her erratically as his teeth closed over the thudding in her neck. Screwing his eyes shut, the youngest Winchester bit harder, Violet’s pulse racing between his teeth as his pleasure ripped through him, thick ropes of cum spilling into her body. His forehead falling to her shoulder, Sam's arms tightened around his best friend, holding her warm body close to his.

He noted with a new curiosity the realization that he had to physically tell his brain to loosen the grip his teeth still held on her neck. A small part of him had toyed with the idea of seeing just how far he could go, wondering what the next step would be if her blood filled his mouth. Like with the others. Gingerly, Sam released his hold. He could never hurt her. The mantra lazily drifted through his mind. As she laced her fingers with his and a cautious smile tugged at the corner of her mouth - Sam hoped it would be enough.

Make no mistake, the beast inside me is sleeping - not dead.

TAGS: @arses21434 @jaredsunflowergoddess @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven

#wildefiction #spn x rpf #sam winchester x reader #supernatural

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stand-of-fish · 5 years

Text

Just a Taste

A/N: I honestly hope I finish this. Should be 3 or 4 chapters in total, maybe less. I don’t know too much about African culture and how it all works at this time of the year but it’s just me incorporating vague themes for a fic. So hope I’m not stepping on toes or anything like that with this fic.

Summary: You get to meet King T’Challa who seemed to be a big fan of America’s Halloween. Especially Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Funnily enough, you dressed as ripe little Mina for the taking.

Tags: Blood and Blood Sucking, Instant Attraction, Biting(vicious and otherwise)

Warnings: 18+, Death

For my sisters and aunties out there needing black fantasy and fiction for us and by us. All my love. Definitely not nervous about this. Not nervous at all lol.

1.7K+ words

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T’Challa wondered what was going on with himself as he stood in front of the full body-length mirror. He had been sweating heavily as a blast of pure, hot hunger, which hit him an hour ago raged on. He attempted for the third time to stretch the arms of his dashiki inspired blazer, which clung tight to his arms and showed off thick muscles with no success.

Being uncomfortable and hungry was just not on the agenda of the King’s tonight.

He gave up with a shake of his head and thanked Bast that he was able to blot away the unwanted moisture on his forehead and neck after a few minutes of meticulous drying, making sure that he got every spot. The towel, barely dampened was handed off to him per his request by a server who could not keep her eyes off of him. Her eyes, unnaturally predatory- roamed his body before taking her time to leave. He shivered and smiled graciously, if not uncomfortably at her before thanking and sending her away. After all, it paid to be polite even in the face of possibly compromising situations.

He was supposed to be the predator after all. But that one. He’d have to watch out for her as he filed away her face for later use so he could avoid her.

Not wanting to deal with her lust or anyone else’s adding fuel to the fire, or even bringing about the monstrous side of himself too early into the night before getting a chance to enjoy the celebration- he barred entry of his rooms to everyone but the Dora Milaje. He wasn’t impulsive or dangerous. Just grumpy and even more hungrier than before.

Thinking about the meal he leisurely enjoyed not even 24 hours ago. He was under the assumption that he could make it through the day with no hindrances such as this. He always fed a full day before events and meetings because it was never good to deal with stress on a full stomach, especially for him. Vampires rejecting blood because of their bodies stress factors never bode well for any one vampire. They either sweat it out or vomited point blank unless they could quickly find a bathroom. Otherwise, the room wouldlook like a scene from the original Carrie film as she went on a vengeful, murderous rage. It didn’t help that his fangs, now that he thought about it, slid out so quickly from their hidden spaces in his gums which made him groan in bliss- the sweet pressure being lifted from his head.

With everyone on his team throwing their all into a Wakandan inspired Halloween party after Shuri had told him and their mother about it 6 years ago. She made sure to show him holo-vids, photos and even planned invites to other celebrations accordingly. T’Challa could not deny being a bit jealous himself that his sister had been able to enjoy those parties while he’d had to stay back and deal with diplomatic and international affairs.

He. Was. Hooked.

They’d made it tradition to host a festival or party every year after that moment. The small Panther Clan had come to love every bit of the holiday with its spooky decorations, costumes, candies and traditions behind it. Especially the pumpkin-carving.

It was so easy to try to incorporate things from their culture into it and create a mix by tracing traditional clan and tribal masks into the largest of pumpkins and painted with family colors by elders and children. The last bits which were the preferable Kimoyo bead lamplight that switched on and off with a snap of the fingers and levitated, gave off no heat. They made the decorative plant-based ornaments shine like no other.

Seeing his people in Wakanda and America coming together to just enjoy themselves this way always made him happy. He was surprised and awed at seeing his and his sister’s ideas, really her work firsthand. It made for integration with home bases go smoother than anything else they’d ever done. Schooling and better job opportunities for their brothers and sisters and their children, a close second. They were the number one priority by all means to build trust and support; but having the funds and proper locations for safety, security and functionality was always preferable.

Halloween had made him hungrier than any other time of the year for whatever reason. He once briefly considered it being what the Americans called it- the Harvest Moon, which could’ve been a possibility that aided in affecting him but quickly brushed it away. He wasn’t superstitious but he did have sets of religious and magical practices that he followed within his own culture.

He was ever curious about mortals who would dress up as supernatural creatures and parade around as if they were nothing more than masks, stories. They were very brave to parade around as creatures they didn’t know existed beside them, truly roamed the world. It was for one night anyway so why bother?

Giving himself a cursory once over and sniff before nodding in confirmation that he was ready to go down to the party as soon as he was notified of the last guest arriving.

Okoye approached the doorway of T'Challa's open wardrobe hesitantly. “My King- Are you alright?” She asked after some time, frowning. She stepped further into the room and noticed that her King was silently brooding. His was a little paler than usual, almost like a ashy tone took ahold.

He looked to be in the beginning stages of his hunger.

It didn't feel right. She escorted the numerous donors to and from his personal quarters herself and assumed him to be adequately satisfied after he signaled he was done for the night just the other day. She immediately stepped forward and offered up her wrist.

She inquired again, but softly this time sympathetically. “My King?”

Snapping out of his almost trance, he looked at her and politely declined. Covering his mouth, he muffled out, “I should be fine Okoye. I still do have blood in the cooler.” He motioned to the compact fridge with a clear door with his free hand. Three drawers stacked on top of the other holding bags of cold blood that would be quick and somewhat filling until he could get his next warm meal.

Okoye waited a moment for any change. T'Challa's eyes crinkled in delight and appreciation at her thoughts of him as she tapped the bottom of her spear on the floor before excusing herself.

This was one of those moments where he needed a little time to get his thoughts together.

One hour later~

T’Challa sighed and snatched a packet of Universal blood out of the cooler and snarled before biting into it. Careful not to make a mess of his outfit for tonight, he sucked the thick, cold blood down quickly and greedily. Once the plastic crinkled with emptiness in his hands, he threw the empty packet into the trash with precision from his chair. A booming voice as soon as it made it into the basket came from nowhere. “A perfect 3 points brother! Are you ready for the party? Everyone is accounted for and gathering into the main room.”

Shuri walked over to her brother and began brushing off invisible dust from the shoulder of his blazer and handed him a hat which perfectly added to his look.

“You look good brother!”

“So do you sister.” He glanced curiously at her well put together cosplay of a character from a show she called Cannon Busters. S. A. M. as he recalled. From a ‘fire anime’ as her and her American friends mentioned.

T’Challa stood and grinned down at his sister before hugging her tight. Thinking about the not so recent fight slash inner country war that happened with Erik and traitors from their country who believed violence was the answer. It wasn’t as if T’Challa was blind to his people’s plight outside of Wakanda. He just didn’t know what to do or how to react to it all, admitting that he was foolish not to take a stand for what was right. It took for a near death ass-beating, a spirit talk with his Baba and some serious soul searching to truly realize how beneficial it would be to reach out with resources his people needed. Their people everywhere regardless of who liked it or not.

Shuri snatched back, yanking T’Challa out of his musings and patted his shoulders once more.

“Well I think that’s enough of that brother.” A knowing and sad smile ghosted her face as she dragged him from his wardrobe and room. “Come, we must see everyone and their ideas for this year. You might even get new features on your suit brother!”

“A tease sister, the suit is fine as it is so nothing funny this time. I'm onto you.” He linked his arm through Shuri’s and dutifully followed where she lead.

With a soft shlik, his fangs pulled back into their homes. The move reminding him of how his hunger was abated for now but he would still have to be careful around the guests so that there wasn’t any unexpected feats or surprises.

A comfortable pause fell over the Udaku siblings on the short journey to the downstairs wing where guests waited.

“Shuri… Do you ever find yourself hungrier during this time of the year?”

Watching her face for any similar symptoms, Shuri shook her head no.

“Maybe it is just you brother. There are more people than last year’s celebration showing up so it may be just your hunger. Excitement maybe. Is that why you had an emergency blood packet?”

He nodded after a pregnant pause, noting that since he had become the Panther, he’d grown thirstier than he generally was. Never taking more than 1-2 liters of blood from designated donors who lived near the house he currently owned and resided in.

Maybe this was another effect of him being stronger, faster, smarter after being brought back to life. He needed to compensate for the changes in his body and mind.

“Well, let us get to this party before we are late and Mother kills us both.” Excitement in his tone as they grew closer to the music seeping out double doors ahead.

“Agreed brother.” Shuri nodded and sped up toward the main hall where four Dora were standing guard, doors open to guests piling in from the foyer still.

With a nod, they acknowledged their King and Princess, who adjusted her wig before hooting and running into the crowd, joining her friends.

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Cannon Busters is a pretty great anime that was recently released on Netflix. Everybody black was in on it so I had to go and represent by watching. I did my best so I hope ya’ll enjoy it.

Tags: @thehomierobbstark @twinclaws @thorsthot @killmoncoochie

#t'challa #bp #black panther #supernatural #halloween #dashiki #costume #vampire #king #halloween party #blood sucking #blood drinking

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