#demon possession

You look up at him, cheeks red, eyes suddenly filled with dramatic sorrow. You walk towards him, a sway in your hips. Dean furrowed his brows. What was going on here? You propped your leg up on the bed, your knee touching him, and you sat down, facing Dean. Your fingers brushed over his, and Dean's heart picked up, not getting the memo that his brain was sending out. Because when his heart went pitter-patter, all he could think was danger with a capital D.

“Dean, I don’t think I can take it in anymore.” You breathed, as if it pained you to say it. 

That was when he knew. Whoever was sitting in front of him. It wasn’t you.

That was when the bathroom door opened, and Sam stepped out. You sprang up quickly, like you were caught. Sam gave you a questionable look before he spoke. “Your turn.”

The moment you closed the bathroom door behind you, Dean grabbed a marker.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, oblivious to what had transpired before he walked in.

“Our girl is possessed.” 

This got Sam's attention. He didn’t question his brother. He just went and grabbed the salt. Sealing all the exits.

Steam curled under the bathroom door.

Water running.

Time ticking.

Dean finished the Devil’s trap just as they heard the water turn off.

Quickly, Sam and Dean went their separate ways. Weapons tucked away to stay inconspicuous. 

The door opened, you stepped out. Your pyjama set flowing loosely around your figure. Dean swallowed. 

You froze. Looking down at the devil's trap you stood in the middle of. “What is this?” You asked, confusion mixing with annoyance. 

“You are not as subtle as you think you are.” Dean's voice was low. Dangerous. A bite in it that he never used with you. But this wasn’t you. He was sure of it.

“Dean, what are you talking about?” You looked at Sam. As if he was going to help you. But his features remained stoic, ever the loyal brother.

“Is this because of earlier?”

Dean stayed quiet. Now standing before you, his eyes are determined.

“Dean I…” You started. Looking at Sam, hesitation laced in your eyes. “I was just trying to tell you how I feel. How I have felt in a long time.”

Dean stepped into the circle, slammed your body against the bathroom door, trapping you between it and him. “Dean?!” Sam sprang up from his chair, startled by the actions of his brother. 

“You think I am stupid?” Dean hissed, face close to yours. Anger in his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was going to kill you.

“Dean, please. You are hurting me.” You said as tears welled up in your eyes.

Doubt flickered across Sam's features.

“You think I don’t know her?” He spat, voice rough. “I know every damn tell she’s got.”

He paused. The air in the room stilled. Sam is still looking between the two, his whole body on guard.

“She’d never look at me like that.”

Something in your eyes lit up. A dangerous glow that didn’t seem human. Your lips curved, forced. Wrong.

“Like what?” Your voice was different now, no longer holding up the pretence that you were hurt. The Demon knew it was caught. All it could do now was wreak more havoc. “Soft?” It offered. “Hopeful? In Love?”

Dean’s grip tightened.

“Shut up.”

“Oh, come on.” It leaned into Dean’s grip instead of away. Trying to tie the hunter around its finger. “I thought hunters were supposed to be observant. And you mean to tell me you haven’t seen the longing looks she gives you.” A wicked smile is plastered on its face as it continues. “I hear her screaming for you right now. She loves the feeling of your hands on her skin. I am guessing she likes it rough.” It winks.

“I said shut up!” Dean gritted through his teeth.

“Every time you hold her hand, every time you call her ‘sweetheart.’ Her whole body lights up.” It leaned into Dean, whispering in his ear. “Right now she is begging me not to hurt you, there is not a single thought about herself in here. Only you. She cares more about you than she does herself, isn’t that sweet?”

Dean’s jaw clenches hard enough to hurt, his mind racing. It is lying, trying to get inside his head, trying to get out of here. Dean was sure this was all a trick. He would never be that lucky.

“Have you never wondered why she is so protective of you? You must have noticed it’s different with you than it is with Sam. "Haven't you?”

Dean shook his head. “You are lying.”

“You sure about that?”

A wicked smile is stretched across your face. A cruelty that makes Dean do a double take. Nothing in there looks like you anymore.

“She thinks she is not enough for you, not a good enough hunter, too emotional, too weak. So she just shuts up, pretends it's nothing.”

Dean didn’t move, his eyes still locked on you, searching for a glimmer of truth but he didn’t find anything. He just felt Sam’s eyes burning at the back of his neck, begging to cut it out, to start the exorcism already, but Dean hesitated. He likes the pain the demon caused him. It was a reminder. The bittersweet words were stinging deliciously reminding him of something he wanted so desperately but could never have.

“Tell me? Is that what you think? Or do you love her too?”

For a second Dean faltered, shocked by the balls this demon possessed.

And it grinned, like it had won a battle Dean didn’t even know was happening.

“Thats what I thought.”

That was the last straw. Dean was done. A tired smirk grew on his lips. The dream was over.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to, he just started the exorcism.

Your body started shaking violently. Your voice twisting into something inhuman as the demon screamed through you. Until it started laughing.

“I still won Winchester. I’m in your head now.”

Dean didn’t stop, didn’t falter. Not this time. Not until the last words were spoken. Not until silence crashed down together with your body. Caught in Dean's strong arms.

“I got you sweetheart, I got you.” The nickname burned something in his chest, but he chose to ignore it.

Your eyes fluttered open. And you tried to regain your footing, but failed miserably. And Dean's arms wrapped around you once more. “Dean?” You began, voice completely yours now, still shaking lightly. “What happened?” You asked.

Dean looked at you worry lacing with sorrow. But before he could say anything it was like memories came rushing back.

“I was possessed.” You said. Straightening your back as you pull up your sleeve, a gash through your anti-possession tattoo. “Are you allright?”

Dean laughed quietly.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

—

Weeks went by after that. Weeks where your voice kept playing in Dean’s mind. Words that weren't yours. Feeling that wheren’t either.

But the Demon had been right either way. The feelings may not have been yours, but they were his.

You noticed he started drinking more, stayed up even later than usual, but he always came home. That was new.

He noticed things too. Noticed you looking at him. Stolen glances when he was driving. He caught you looking at him through the rear view mirror more times than he could count. Notice that you always checked if he was okay before you checked Sam.

He told himself it was the demon talking. That it didn’t mean anything.

It couldn’t mean anything.

He wasn’t that lucky.

You tried to be normal. But you weren't stupid. You remembered being possessed. Remembered hearing your voice without saying anything yourself. You remember feeling trapped and helpless. Remembered Dean’s words, his anger and his hesitation. Remembered the way he looked at you, the disbelief. The sliver of hope. The look in his eyes when your voice asked, if he loved you too.

Blue light flickered from underneath the door of the “Dean Cave”. Muffled sounds and suspenseful music coming from the western movie Dean was probably watching. You knocked.

Twice.

The third knock hanging in the air like you were scared of the scene that would follow.

His voice boomed from inside, inviting you in.

The movie was paused, Clint Eastwood stared at you like he knew what was going to happen, his brows knit together, a cigar in his mouth.

“What are you doing up.” He asked. Glass of cheap whiskey in his hand.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You said as you went to sit on the couch beside him.

A silence wrapped around the two of you. And you almost thought he would put the movie on play again.

“I remember you know.” You began. Doubt sounding in your voice. “What I said.. "What it said.”

Dean looked at you now, putting his whiskey away. “You don't have to explain.” He said quickly “It was just demon crap.” His words sounded almost rehearsed. Like he had been telling himself that for weeks. And something deep inside him broke. Because however many times he told himself, there was a part of him that didn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. Because he still had hope. And if you were here to set the record straight. To tell him those exact words, that last sliver of hope would be gone.

You were quiet. Dean's words were like gasoline on a fire that had been slowly burning inside you since the moment you met him. “Is that what you want me to say?” You asked.

Dean looked at you confused. This was not what he was expecting to happen. He had rehearsed this conversation in his head a million times, and never had you said that.

“Is that what you have been telling yourself for the past few weeks?”

Dean shook his head. Trying to make sense of the words that were pouring out of your mouth.

“Because it isn’t what I feel, Dean.” Your voice was sharp, almost harsh. Your tone didn’t fit with the underlying message of your words. The way you said his name came out almost accusatory.

“Stop” He said low, warning you. His face showed warmth when he spoke, the complete opposite of what you had given him. “This is what they do sweetheart, they twist your memories, your feelings. This isn’t you.”

You grew quiet, baffled by the words coming out of his mouth. “I remember. I remember losing control, doing things that weren’t of my own design, but I could still feel everything.”

Dean shook his head. “That doesn’t mean…”

“Yes it does!” You cut in, voice trembling despite your effort to keep it steady. You were standing now. Not able to contain your emotions anymore. “It didn’t make anything up, it just told you what was already there.”

There was something in Dean’s eyes that you couldn't place. Pity, hurt, maybe both. He leaned towards you. His fingers ghosting above yours, hoping you wouldn't catch that.

“Why would it do that?” He asked.

You looked down at him. “I don’t know, why do demons do anything?” You stumbled. “To get to you, to hurt you.”

Dean latched onto that immediately. 

Of course he did. 

“Exactly,” He said, almost relieved. He stood up. At your level now. Brushing your hair out of your face before he noticed doing it. “ That's what I have been saying. It wasn’t real. It was just trying to mess with your head. It was trying to hurt you.”

“It wasn’t trying to hurt me, Dean.” You said, he paused.

“Maybe at first, but after you captured it, I wasn’t its target anymore.” Your voice was soft. Steady.

“So I ask you, Winchester. Because you seem to have all the answers. Why would admitting my feelings hurt you?”

Dean stared at you, quiet, frozen.

His voice was lost somewhere in the abis.

Searching for an answer that would satisfy you. But he knew that the only thing you’d believe right now was the truth. And he wasn’t ready to give it.

“Because I think it is because you are terrified.”

Dean let out a breath, sharp, almost a laugh. But you didn’t think it was funny.

“Terrified?” He echoed, shaking his head. “Of what?”

“Of wanting something you don’t think you deserve.”

That sentence landed like a dart into a bullseye, right on the money.

“You don’t know what you are talking about.” he tried, but the fact that he looked away when he said it told you all you needed to know.

“I think I do.”

He scoffed, “You think you know me so well?”

“Oh please.” You scoffed. “I know you better than you know yourself.” There was that fire again. “You are scared Dean, scared of losing people. And that is fine. I am too. But if you keep pushing me away you are going to lose me either way.”

Dean's head snapped back at you. His eyes burning trough your skull. “I’m not pushing..” 

"Yes, you are.” You said. “You are doing it right now.”

Dean grew quiet. Took a step back creating space, space you didn’t want but you knew he needed.

“You don’t get to decide how I feel.” Your voice is softer now.

He didn’t argue this time. He just looked at you. Jaw cleansing mind racing.

“And then?” 

Your breath got stuck in your throat. You didn’t know what you expected. More arguing maybe? Yelling and screaming. You were hoping for some angry desperate kiss, but you know those just happened in your wildest dreams. Those were reserved for when you couldn't sleep and you were talking to Dean in your mind, making up stories to make you sleep better.

“What do you mean and then?”

“This whole conversation, say you are right, say you do care for me.”

“I do.”

"Yeah yeah.” He waved your comment away. “Say you are right, what happens then?”

You stilled for a moment. Not really getting what he was getting at.

“I’m not good at this.” He said pointing between the two of you. You looked at him with a small smile tugging at your lips, but you were careful to not let it show too much. “You think I am?” You began. “You think I know how to do this?” 

You stepped towards the hunter, looking up at him. “I don’t expect this to be perfect. I just expect you to try.” Dean’s hand wrapped around your wrist, warm hands caressing your skin. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He said, voice soft.

“You probably are.” You laughed. Dean’s brows knit together. “Way to reassure a guy.” 

“You are going to hurt me, probably as much as I am going to hurt you. As long as we try to make up, I don't see what the problem is.”

“You really want to do this?

“I do.”

Dean stared at you. Really stared. Like you were a puzzle he was trying to solve.

As if he was trying to figure out if this was real.

His grip on you tightened slightly.

“You don’t make this easy, you know.” He muttered.

You huffed. “Wasn’t trying to.”

Silence returned. Sticky, heavy. 

Dean's eyes searched for you, for a flicker of hesitation. For doubt. But he didn’t find any.

“I’m going to screw this up.” He said. You nodded. “Sounds like you.”

But something about the way you said it made him wonder. You said it like you didn’t care if he screwed this up. He could try all he wanted because you knew that whoever screwed up. You were going to fix this, together.

“Okay,” he breathed. 

And that was it.

Dean stepped forward, slower this time, giving you the chance to change your mind, to stop him. You didn’t. Of course you didn’t. You had been dreaming about this moment for weeks, years even. So had he.

He cupped your face in his hand and brought your lips towards his. It was like fireworks exploded in your stomach. All the worry and anger you felt before melted off your body as all that consumed you was the feeling of him. His calloused fingers on your skin and his warm lips on yours.

The kiss was desperate and hurried and it completely stole your breath away. Stilling you completely. Dean consuming every fire of your being. 

Your hands found his flannel, grounding you into something real.

Into him.

The kiss softened. Shifted into something that felt like it could last forever.

He was the first to move away, his forehead resting against yours slightly. His dumb gliding across your cheek lovingly. His eyes were warm and safe. You could drown in them.

“I love you too.” He said, before connecting with your lips again. And there was nothing desperate or uncertain about it.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

I love me some Dean angst! And I love some passionate fighting!!

I watched from behind my curtain, coffee cooling in my hand, as my neighbor returned home a few minutes later. He looked excited as though he had been waiting a long time for whatever was inside this battered delivery.

He crouched low, pressing his face to the crate, trying to see inside. When he finally noticed the letter, he barely gave it a glance before flinging it through the doorway. Then, with a kind of effortless strength, he lifted the whole thing and carried it inside - as if it weighed nothing. It tracked, I suppose. The only times I'd ever seen him outside were at the gym, or walking past the animal sanctuary where he worked.

Not even an hour later, I heard the scream.

It wasn't the kind of sound you forget. It was sharp, raw - something between fear and agony. And it came from right next door.

I slipped back behind the curtain, fingers tightening around the fabric as I eased it open. The scream still echoed faintly in my mind, and I wasn't sure what I hoped to see - only that part of me hoped it wasn't him.

Across the way, the red curtains in his window trembled, disturbed from within. For a moment, they danced like something breathing just behind them. Then - violently - they were thrown apart.

He stood there, motionless, illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp behind him. His bare chest rose and fell slowly, like he's just exhaled after holding his breath too long. Coiled around his neck was a serpent, scales glinting faintly, its head resting near his jaw like a whisper. Both of them were staring at me - intently, hungrily. A slow, deliberate smiled pulled at his lips. He raised a hand and pointed at me and then toward our backyards.

I went.

By the time I reached the fence, he was already there - waiting. The snake wrapped around him like a glistening scarf, dressed in nothing but a tight pair of white boxer briefs, clinging like a second skin. The sun caught the sheen of swear on his collarbone, the taut lines of muscle across his chest and stomach. But it wasn't just the way he looked - it was the stillness of him, the way his body radiated something predatory.

"Are you okay?" I asked, the words catching in my throat. I knew better - every part of me screamed that something was wrong - but I asked anyway.

He tilted his head slightly, as if amused, as if he already knew I'd come. I tried not to stare, but my eyes betrayed me, lingering over the curve of his hips, the way the snake hung loosely around his neck and on his arm like it, too, was at ease. As I looked over his body, something told me the scream wasn't the last one I would hear tonight.

"You're quite nosy, aren't you?" My neighbor said, his voice slipping over the air like velvet pulled too tight - pitched low, slow, deliberate. Almost as though something was tasting the words before letting them escape his lips.

"What?" I asked, my voice barely steady.

"I saw you watching me. Right before this human arrived. Through the cracks in my prison, I felt your gaze. Curious. Intrigued." He extended a hand, and the serpent stirred. It slithered toward his fingers with a grace that felt rehearsed. I took a step back, heart quickening.

"I think I'm confused, you seem...fine."

"You seem afraid." His hand stayed raised, unwavering, as if inviting more than contact.

"Not at all." I extended my hand to meet the challenge. The snake rose to meet me, tongue flicking, tasting my scent. Then it was moving - slowly, sensually - curling up my arm, pressing itself against my skin as it wound around me shoulders. It felt heavier than it should have. Warmer, too.

"This human is a conduit," He said, "his mind hollowed out for me. His body - well, wearing a body properly requires a certain kind of intimacy." I tilted my head before I realized I was mimicking him. The serpent settled against my collarbone like a living necklace.

"I don't understand." I whispered.

"You don't need to." His eyes never left mine. "What I find more interesting is that you're not pulling away. You're letting it touch you. Letting me touch you." The snake's body slid along the side of my neck, and I gasped - not in fear, but something else. The sensation was too precise. Too knowing. It lingered where nerves gathered and practically made my spine melt.

"Are you going to hurt me?" I asked, not sure if I wanted the answer to be yes or no. The serpent slipped from my shoulders, gliding across the space between us to return to him. He watched me as it joined him, sliding over his bare chest, disappearing into the waistband of his underwear like it belonged beneath his skin.

"Why would I hurt a friend?" He smiled again "I think I'll keep this one a while longer. You seem to appreciate what I've made of him." The thing behind his eyes watched me closely as he knelt down and placed the snake gently in the grass. The moment stretched long, heavy with something I couldn't name. I couldn't tell whether I was witnessing something sacred or profane. Only that I was watching - entranced - and that a large part of me didn't want to stop.

My neighbor quickly shifted his attention away from the snake. With a swift motion, he tugged his underwear down just enough to reveal his round, fleshy backside. He leaned forward ever so slightly, extending his arms backward. With deliberate care, he spread his cheeks apart, unveiling the taut, pulsating orifice that the serpent was going to use as an entry point.

The snake's sinuous body coiled around my neighbor's leg, its scales glinting like tiny shields under the light. It paused, forking tongue flicking, a ir fixed its glassy, we eyes on me. Then, with a chilling deliberation, it turned towards his exposed hole. Like a predator striking it unsuspecting prey, the snake launched itself forward, its blunt head pushing against the puckered flesh, insistently demanding entrance. The scaly body, a grotesque rope of living muscle wriggled and pushed, as my neighbor began to emit a low, guttural groan.

I circled his prone body, his face now a portrait of raw, unbridled sensation. His mouth was slack, jaw loose, as a deep, resonant moan escaped from his throat. His eyes fluttered, rolling back to reveal the whites, as waves of pleasure, too intense to bear, crashed over him. His fingers dug into the flesh of his cheeks, knuckles blanching, as the snake's body, inch by inch, was swallowed by his rich, pulsating hole. The snake's tail whipped around his fingers before finally disappearing, consumed by his eager, quivering flesh.

"What the fuck," was all I could utter as my neighbor's eyes fluttered closed and his expression twisted in discomfort. The snake was settling inside his skin, like a tailored suit he was happy to wear forever. I watched, transfixed, as bumps surfaced along his muscular back, the creature adjusting within him. His spine arched suddenly, and his hips thrust backward as the snake claimed his new vessel.

"You are going to need to fuck this body," my neighbor said through gritted teeth. His eyes snapped open, wide and intense, fixing on me with a desperate, urgent stare. Without hesitation, I scooped him up and hurried him back into his house.

The living room was a scene of chaos, with the remnants of a broken crate scattered about. The snake had ripped through the wooden planks effortlessly, shards embedded in the furniture like shrapnel. We stumbled throughh the wreckage, instinct guiding me - or perhaps some unseen force - towards the bedroom.

I threw him onto he bed, and he sprawled out, his body moving like he was slipping into a snug sleeve. His fingers curled and flexed as though testing new-found control. Satisfied, he twisted his body, presenting himself with an urgency that was palpable. "Do it now. I need it. I want this body. I want you," he urged, his voice thick with more than just the snake's influence. His eyes burned with a lust that consumed him, a hunger that demanded to be sated.

I tore away my clothes, shredding the fabric as I fought to free myself from their constraint. My cock had been rock hard since the backyard, and now I was grinding my erection against my neighbor's firm ass. He reached back, spreading his cheeks, offering me unhindered access to his hole, as if I didn't already know where I was going to plunge my cock. I took the silent invitation, ramming my length deep inside him. The residue from the snake writhing into his muscular body made me growl as I slid in, unsheathed and raw. I dug my fingers into his wait, thrusting into him with brutal force, my balls slapping against his flesh. I could feel the serpent coiling around my cock, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me.

"Fuck, this is insane!" I roared, pounding into him harder, the bed scraping against the floorboards, our groans echoing through the house. The bumps on his back began to vanish, and suddenly he arched, his cock erupting beneath him, his load creating a slick pool as if my neighbor's very essence was ejected out through his cock, reducing him to nothing but a quivering mess beneath us.

"Your turn." He pulled away, my cock sliding out of his hole with a pop. He was no longer my neighbor; he was a confident vessel for this creature. Grabbing my hands, he made me feel the snake's control, every flexing muscle, every pulsating vein. Then, he yanked me towards him, our mouths crashing, one hand gripping me tight while the other stroked my cock.

Leaning back, he lifted his legs, inviting me back in. I plunged my cock into his hole, holding his legs on my shoulders. His head dug into the pillows with each thrust, and he clenched his hole, playing with me, driving me to the edge.

"I'm going to cum," I gasped, panting like an animal. He held my head, making me look into his eyes as I exploded inside him. His eyes were as glossy and reptilian as the snake that now possessed him.

We tumbled onto the bed, the frame creaking and almost snapping under our weight. He gazed at me, much like he had when he was leaning against the fence in the backyard. But this time, it felt different - less like a test and more like attraction. Maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see.

"Thanks for your help," he said, his hand brushing against his chest, a fingertip lightly touching his nipple, causing a visible shiver. I realized I couldn't look away. I was watching him as intensely as he was watching.

"So, what are you?" I asked, knowing he wasn't just an ordinary snake.

His eyes sparkled, and his lips curled into a playful smiled. "I can be whoever you want me to be, but you might consider me a demon. I was kicked out of hell for being a bit too mischievous with humans, as I'm sure you've already figured out."

"Have you always looked like a snake, or were you just playing into the stereotype?" I smirked, leaning back slightly.

"I take the form that suits my needs. In this case, it was a snake. Your neighbor has been saving money for one and got more than he expected." His hand rested nearby, and I could smell a hint of his body odor. It made my pulse race.

"What's the plan? Live in him for a while and then move on?" I curled up, nestling into his side and looking up at those dark, beady eyes.

"I'm having more fun that I've had in ages, but I guess the ultimate goal is to experience as much of human life as possible by jumping from body to body. My little addiction to human husks is why I was kicked out after all." He shrugged.

"Would you like company?" The words slipped out before I could think.

He grinned. "I think I'd love to have you along. You'll make an entertaining little companion." He started to climb on top of me, stretching and looking down from above. His muscles tensed, and I bit my lip, watching him move. My heart raced faster.

"Oh, I'm more than just a companion." I said, flipping him off me in a swift move and pinning him down. I began to grind slightly, my tongue finding his nipple and licking it. He grinned and pulled me close, his hand squeezing my ass as our bodies pressed tightly against each other.