its okay though because that is a great fic and this gave me an excuse to go read it again


Originally posted by fyeahbangtaned

Writer: admin monnie

Pairing: College!Namjoon/Reader

Description: In which Namjoon’s glow up got you fucked up in more ways than one

Genre: smut

Warnings: Rough sex, Domination, (really badly written) Dirty talk, Choking (kinda)

You couldn’t write.

That was the cold hard truth, you just couldn’t write anything in paper to save your life, English or Korean, it didn’t matter. Which is how you ended being tutored by nerd supreme, Kim Namjoon, first class dweeb and destructor of everyday objects. You had met Namjoon in school, sixth grade to be exact, and the only difference between high school Namjoon and grade school Namjoon was that his baby chubs have now transformed into long and awkward limbs. He was sporting the ugliest bowl cut to be known in mankind, his glasses were okay you guessed.

It was your last year in high school and for your final in language you had to write a perfect essay if you ever hoped to graduate. Of course, perfect student, top of the class, indisputable valedictorian Kim Namjoon had already turned his in and received a high, if not perfect, score. Leaving him with enough free time to tutor someone for the assignment. For a month he would come to your house or you to his to work on your writing every and all weekend, and after a lot of tears and migraines, you wrote a good essay. Somewhere along the way you felt a shift in Namjoon’s behavior towards you. He had become more shy and tongue tied, his clumsiness had evolved, and he would ramble on and on sometimes. You didn’t thought about it too much, but maybe that was your first mistake in the chain of events that were about to go down.

Rumors started spreading around school, twisting the new gossip into many different stories, yet all had the same message: Namjoon had a major crush on you, and he was planning on confessing soon. You were mortified to say the least, he was a good kid but you wouldn’t date him in your lifetime, he was just not it for you. So you did the logical thing to do, and avoided him as much as you could till graduation. Rumors may be rumors but you weren’t taking chances to get your reputation ruined, nope not on your watch. But the nightmare continued for a while longer. You had found a rose on your desk one morning, two weeks later a love poem signed “secret admirer” had found its way inside your locker, on your birthday a small teddy bear with chocolates had found its way to your house, and worst of all when you asked around about the identity of your so called “secret admirer”, you would be answered with “why don’t you ask joonie?” and you begged graduation to just come already.

One day it had been too much to bear.  A week before freedom, you found a note with very familiar handwriting saying “please meet me at the park by your house tonight at 8, I want to tell you something important”, and you were too fed up with everything to even find it sweet. So you changed into the first thing you saw and walked towards the stupid little park at 8 pm sharp just to find the boy of your nightmares already there, hand in his pockets and dressed up, clearly making an effort to look good that night, but you were not having any of it. It bothered you how his face lit up once he saw you, and how he smiled warmly at you from underneath the light post he was leaning on to look like fucking prince charming or something. You stopped in front of him, cutting him off before he even spoke “listen, I know okay? I know you were the one with the roses and the poems and stuff and its sweet but I just don’t like you like that Namjoon-sshi. I’ve never have and I’m sorry if it looked like I was interested, believe me I am not. So please just stop with all this, okay? Just. Stop. And leave me alone. Goodnight.” and then you walked away, relief had flooded into you after you had made yourself clear. Where you a little harsh? Maybe, but he needed to back off one way or another.

That whole week you didn’t see Namjoon in class. The only time you ever did was when he delivered his valedictorian speech, and then never again.

At least not in high school.

College was a bittersweet miracle, whoever said a Major in Fine Arts wasn’t that hard needed to die slowly and painfully. Your newfound freedom, however, was a blessing in your life.However, it still hold true to having gossip and rumors flying around much like high school. The newest being of one of the top 15 getting a job where two of the Top 15 were already working, a small café that only got busy because hot guys were working the machines and also taking your orders. Now the Top 15 where the 15 hottest and best good looking guys in the campus, it was a secret that only the female alumni knew about, it was ridiculous but so very appreciated. It was a matter of days before your roommate Nari was begging for you to accompany her to the café, she wanted to attempt and get the number of a specific guy working there, and because you can’t say no to Nari you go even though you didn’t really cared. And you’re glad she did because holy shit you were literally looking at heaven. The barista was drop dead gorgeous, his bottom lip fuller than his top one, making a perfect heart, he was tall and his shoulders were broad, and he had such a sweet smile that can make anyone swoon and chestnut hair with an opening in the middle. The first waiter was shorter than the barista, but what he lacked in height he made up in charms and looks. His hair was a platinum color and was styled in a simple sweep to the left but it just made him more handsome, his ears were pierced and a cross earring hanged from his left earlobe, and let’s not forget the great view from behind, god bless tight red dress pants. And then there was the man of the hour, with purple hair styled to the side which seemed to go perfectly with his tanned skin and his pouty lips that when he smiled showed his dimples, and his godly muscles that were visible under his black button up shirt whenever he flexed, his height and appearance perfect fit for a model and jesus was he wearing rings?  Needless to say, you would go anytime you had an excuse just to see your purple haired beauty.

And then the universe decided to play a cruel joke on you. In an effort to make the students more bonded with each other, the language and fine arts teachers decided to do an assignment together. You were to create a piece whether a portrait or landscape, hell even contemporary, and your literature partner had to either give you a written piece to gain inspiration from or for them to write their interpretation of your artwork. In an effort to save time, since you only had a month to work with, the teachers had randomly assigned partners, the announcement on who got who taped outside their doors. And you felt ready to die when you saw who you got “you’ve got to be shitting me…”

There, in bold mocking black letters, was the name of the one person you didn’t want to see as your designated partner. Not only were you in the same college as someone from your damned high school, but that someone was perfect student, fashion disaster, god of destruction- “Kim Namjoon?”


As if summoned, he had appeared behind you, his deep voice scaring you half to death. You wished you could’ve die of a heart attack right there and then, because when you turn around guess who you fucking see? Yep, that’s right. Your purple eye candy, and by the look on his face he was trying to figure out where he’d seen you before. The air was suddenly disappearing from your lungs.

“______-sshi?” fuck he looked hot when he was confused.

“Hey… What a surprise seeing you here” You averted your eyes from his, hoping that your blush was not noticeable. He looked you over before replying with indifferent in his voice, “I could say the same thing. What are you here for?”
“Fine Arts, I assume you’re doing Literature?” he nodded on response, the three years you haven’t seen each other he had somehow turned into the man of your wet dreams, he’d grown taller which made his once lanky form now perfect, his bowl cut replaced with a shorter and well styled purple hair, his dressing style aesthetically pleasing and his glasses- Well his glasses were still okay, but they looked even better on him now. He leaned forward, looking over you to find his name on the list and you could almost smell his cologne. He hummed to himself once he found what he was looking for, letting out a small sigh. “I see, I guess you want to change partners then? If we hurry we might catch up with Mr. Yuu and-” “-No no its fine! I mean, I wouldn’t want to bother them with this anyways. Its just a silly project, besides we already know each other so it’ll be easier to do this don’t you think?” you rambled, hoping not to sound desperate. He nodded again, “Well, I don’t know about your teacher but this is a big assignment for me. So how about we go somewhere to discuss how to do this?” he smiled. You gave him one of your own, “Sounds great, lead the way please.”

You were fucked.

After your chance encounter, you both walked to a nearby bench where you discussed how you would do the assignment, deciding that you would interpret his poem  with a painting, then exchanging numbers and going your separate ways to start on your work,  making small conversations here and there to relief some of the awkwardness surrounding the both of you. Namjoon had managed to come up with an amazing poem in two weeks leaving you with a week and a half to actually come up with something, but it just wasn’t turning out how you wanted it to. Every piece you started you hated, and you kept redoing and redoing until you were ready to jump the nearest cliff, curse Kim Namjoon and his sexy brain and intellect of the philosophers of ancient Greece, and curse him for doing a poem so involved in romance as well as eroticism without being explicit. Reading it the first time had gotten you a little worked up if you were being honest with yourself, and you wanted that feeling to be conveyed in your art without being explicit, much like his writing. But nothing seemed to work, and you were ready to stab yourself with your dull pencil. You were currently inside one of the art studios, having separated it after hours for the rest of the day since you were determined to not leave until you had something you found decent. Paint covered your skin and your clothes, which consisted of an old peach colored sweater that hid your very comfy black bralette, a pair of washed out shorts and some sandals you discarded somewhere on the floor. You preferred not having shoes when painting, that March Chagall guy was onto something when he said he preferred painting in his underwear. You also decided on wearing a choker because why not? You might need it later to choke yourself to death because art sucks and it looked cute with what you had on. But none of that mattered because you had exactly 5 days, 10 hours, 16 minutes and 5 seconds and counting to come up with something before the deadline, and your canvas was still blank. You laid on the cold floor, picking out your phone from your back pocket and sending your project partner a text.

You: I have nothing.

KN: wdym?????

You: what I said I got nothing

KN: I got that but I mean how come you have nothing?????

KN: time is almost up      

KN: can’t you just throw paint and call it a day?????

You: and look like I half assed it? no way

You: I’d rather die than having my name engraved on some shitty copy of a monnet made by a blind tortoise

KN: ok fine. what if i go and help you interpret it????

You: I would really appreciate that ;-;

You send him the direction to the small studio you were in, rolling on your side and looking at the wall. Okay concentrate, if you just sketch whatever you might get somewhere, yeah okay sounds like a plan. Standing up from the tiled floor, you make your way to the table you were using a few seconds ago and started sketching while letting your mind wander around. It didn’t take long before you started thinking of Namjoon, how much he had changed since you last saw him three years ago, ad how unfair it was that no one told you about this witchcraft beforehand. You wouldn’t admit it openly but the way he looked in the café, with his sleeves rolled up and beads of sweat from the steam on his forehead, it just did something for you. It had you wondering, how would Namjoon look when he was turned on? Your hand stopped and your face flushed, did you really just thought that? What kind of pervert were you becoming? But you couldn’t help it, you kept going with that train of thought, no use fighting it now that it was present, he’s probably a total vanilla sort of guy. Not timid but definitely would always ask before doing something, would he be a tease?  Nah, he doesn’t look like someone that’s patient when they get worked up. He’s most definitely an ass kinda guy, and he prob-

“______-sshi? You there?” His voice pulled you back from your wandering mind, your cheeks flushed with the faintest of pinks from embarrassment, even though he didn’t hear anything because you said it all in your head, “Yeah I’m here, let me open the door for you hold on.” the five minutes it took you to walk over, open the door and letting him in did not prepare you for what you saw. There he was, satan himself, with black dress pants, a white button up, and a blazer that was made out of some sort of shiny material. A black belt keeping his too tight pants up, the top button undone and giving you the perfect view of his collarbones, his hair styled to the side like always, a hand on his pocket and the other with what you guessed was his laptop bag. To make matters worse his fucking glasses looked good on him and you never wanted to punch someone on the face so much for being so sinful with so little effort. You prayed to whatever god was up there to give you strength while you closed the door behind him. Namjoon proceeded to sit on the table you had been a few minutes ago, taking out his computer and starting to get to work and letting you sit next to him. He wasted no time in trying to figure out how to help you, trying to interpret his piece but either you were too dumb or he was too smart because you understood jack shit of anything he said, and it felt like high school all over again when you both were arguing over the first sentence of your essay. Namjoon leans back on the chair, letting out an exasperated groan, you were quick to try and compromise “Alright how about this, tell me what you were thinking of when you wrote this. Maybe that can help me-” You moved towards the canvas, brushes, paint and palette ready to go “-to get the visual of your poem. Just say anything, a shape, feeling, color, whatever.” He raise an eyebrow in confusion at your idea. “Don’t artist usually need visuals to inspire them?” You chuckled looking back at him, “Probably, but I prefer listening. It gives me a better picture and helps the imagination go wild.” You turned back around “So just start talking.”

He kept quiet for a few seconds, probably figuring out if he should say what he was really thinking about when he first wrote it. You could feel his hesitation,“Alright, but don’t make it awkward please?” You gave him a thumbs up, a sign to let him know he was on the clear. “I was thinking of the foreplay before sex.” Fucking hell Kim Namjoon, you can’t just drop that without any warnings. You forced yourself to not seem faced, picked up a random brush and started coloring in the cloth, he kept talking. “You know that feeling of wanting? Of absolute need for the other person you feel before even kissing them? I was thinking about that. Looking at someone at completely wanting to devour them, letting your eyes wander around their body and thinking of everything you would like to do to that person.” You gripped your brush tighter, it was like he read your thoughts and was laying them out in the open for you to reflect. Moving your legs closer together, you gulped “And what would you do to that person?” you asked him, one to keep him talking, two because a part of you really wanted to know for artistic purposes of course. Namjoon fixed his eyes on you, he could tell there was something off about you the moment he got inside the room, what he was trying to figure out is why, so he kept watching your every move for any answers. “Why do you ask?”

You stiffened, “B-because, it helps me think of what to uh- paint about. So just keep talking, please” Your voice a whispers towards the end, he hummed in amusement, resuming his train of thought “It depends on the day, but usually it’s mostly submission.” Of course, you should have known he’s totally a- “There’s something about having a partner completely submissive that’s just really hot. At my complete mercy, ready let me have my way with them.” DOM?! HOLD ON THIS WAS NOT PART OF THE PLAN ABORT MISSION ABORT MISSION- “Just, seeing them kneeling down in front of you, ready for anything. Begging, pleading, and just completely drunk on the idea of what I can do for them.” Every word was torture for you, everything he said you wanted to do and you wouldn’t mind. Picking another color, you quickly distracted yourself from your thoughts. From where he was sitting he could tell you were getting bothered by his words, and he wanted to see how far he could go before breaking you. A smirk playing on his lips “You okay          -sshi? You look a little uncomfortable.” You jumped slightly at his sudden change in tone, letting out a fake laugh to try and play off how horny he was getting you from those images, the sexual tension in the air rising every time he spoke his dirty thoughts aloud. “I-I’m totally okay! Why are you asking are you uncomfortable? Because we can stop if you want to I’m fine with that” You chuckle, trying to sound convincing and not at all like you’re slowly going mad from his words.

And then it dawned on him,____  ____, the girl who broke his heart three years ago, not even letting him say what he had rehearsed for hours in the mirror, was very attracted to him. Not only did she find him attractive, but she was getting completely turned on by his words. His ego and his confidence rose to a completely different level then, ready to get satisfaction from embarrassing you to the grave right there in that small art room. His smirk widened, “Alright” he lowered his voice purposely “Then I’ll keep going. You know what else can also be a major turn on? Name calling, some people like it when you refer to them with a specific name, like ‘princess’ or ‘kitten’.”

“Do you have something like that?”


If you weren’t soaked before you were now, the room was way too hot and his words were way too filthy this early in the day. You fanned yourself, trying to calm down and hopefully stopping yourself from looking like a damned tomato. “Is the room too warm?” hoW CAN HE SWITCH BACK AND FORTH LIKE THAT HE WAS GOING TO KILL YOU. You nodded, letting out a nervous chuckle “Just a little though, I’ll be okay once the AC starts again.”

“______ -sshi?”


“The AC hasn’t stopped yet.”

“Oh.” curse this damned day, curse the stupid AC, curse his stupid mouth that can probably get you worked up in very different ways.

“Yeah, it’s probably that sweater you have on. Why not take it off? It might cool you down.” He was winning and he knew it, if he kept going he would get you to run out completely mortified in the next three minu-

You put the paint brush down, and reached for the hem of your sweater. Slowly but surely, you pulled it up and over your head, your skin caressed by the cool breeze the fan was giving. It was like unwrapping a present during Christmas, except he didn’t have to do it himself. He watched you drop the item on the floor, not looking back even once. He had to catch his breath, not expecting this turn of events at all. And now he was the one embarrassed, your exposed skin and the real effect his words had on you hitting him like a ton of bricks. You were totally turned on, and he was getting there too, but he was a man with enough pride to last him a lifetime, so he kept going. Not caring if the tent forming in his pants was becoming obvious now.

You may be wondering, what in the living hell are you thinking? The answer is, you’re not. It sounded like a good idea at the moment, but what honestly compelled you to go through with it was his voice. You were loosing your grip on your rationality every time he answered all the questions you had of him in your brain, cursed be Kim Namjoon.


You nodded, not wanting to let a single noise escape your lips.

“Let’s continue then.” You felt his gaze devour your figure “You know, since we’re talking about clothes, why not discuss that? Clothes can be quite a turn on for me if I’m being honest. A girl in heels it’s a great view for me, specially if they have thigh highs on as well. Black lingerie is very much appreciated too, even better if it’s see through” You went rigid after his last words. Bralettes were not lingerie, but your was very much black and also not so much covering your breasts. The black straps creating a triangular shape for your boobs, but the mesh that covered your now hard nipples ended halfway to the strap that was close to the valley of your breasts. A lace pattern decorating the end of the material that Namjoon was dying to see from where he was sitting. So he quietly got up from his seat and walked behind you, and you could feel his presence and it was too much for the both of you to keep your cool and not give in right there and then to what the moment had build up to. He leaned closer to your ear, “Most of all, jewelry has a certain kind of effect. For example,-” his lips ghosted over your neck, his hands deep in his pockets to stop himself from touching you “-that choker you’re wearing. It looks so good wrapped around your neck.”

“Your hands would look nicer though.”

He cursed under his breath not expecting you to react that way, you leaned back towards him and rested your head on his shoulder. His greedy hands finally touching your skin, you closed your eyes while you felt him caress your legs, moving up towards where you wanted him the most at that moment until one gripped your hips and moved you closer to him while the other wrapped around your throat. “Like this?”

“Yes” you almost moaned, feeling his manhood poke at your back. With his hand still on your neck, he coaxes you to stand up. “______, if you want me to stop you better say it now. Because I don’t think I’ll be able to later on.” his warning sounding more like a promise to your ears, and you wanting nothing more than to let him bend you over the table and pleasure you anyway he saw fit. Feeling a little balls-y, you moved your hand towards his crotch, gripping his hardened cock in your hands and earning a hiss from his lips. “Who said I wanted you to?” and then he was gone. He bent you over the table in one swift motion with his hands gripping your waist and holding it in place, paint splattering everywhere and no doubt getting on you, but you couldn’t care less. Specially when he had started to grind his hips against yours, giving you a taste of the mess you had gotten yourself into, each movement getting you more and more worked up until you were panting. He chuckled, “You like that baby? You like having my cock rubbing against your pussy? Look at how much of a mess you are, and I haven’t even touched you properly.” You gripped at the table, nodding in response to him. Dissatisfied with your response, he  stopped moving much to your dismay, instead gripping a fistful of your hair and pulling you towards him again. “Use your voice baby, I won’t know what you want unless you tell me.”

Your voice trembled “P-Please touch me.”


You take the hand that’s still on your waist, moving it between your legs “Here, please, just do anything. I need you to touch me.” You sounded desperate and you knew it, but you couldn’t help it. Not with the way he has you right now, and not while his hands finally start to rub against your core, your moans growing with every motion. He go of you to spin you around and press his lips against yours, you took off his glasses so not to annoy you but apparently he looked even better without them, and you loved it. You loved how he starts to undress you, you loved how he kissed down your jawline and stopped at your neck, you loved how he wasted no time marking you with hickeys in places you knew were gonna be hard to hide, but you specially loved how he pulled back to stare at his creation his dilated pupils drinking in your figure, making him curse loudly. It probably also due to you going back to grope him from over his now too restrictive pants that he needed to take off right now. Namjoon pulls back completely,  confusing you entirely until you see him sit back on the chair he’d been watching you from and motioned for you to follow, except-

“Nu uh, I want to see you crawl.”

He could have asked you to run around church naked and you would still do it, so you had no hesitation to get down on all fours and crawl all the way until you were between his legs. He cradled your face and leaned in to kiss you again, this time softer than the last, while also unbuckling his belt and pushing down his black dress pants, letting his cock finally free from its clothed prison. You gave him one last peck before getting down to business, licking the pre-cum off his tip and dragging your tongue down his shaft. A hiss pulled out of his lips at your gentle motions, but he needed more, “Don’t tease me baby, I want to see what that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around my cock.” And who were you to deny total Dom, filthy mouthed, wet dream, Kim Namjoon of his pleasure? So you do just that, and take him in slowly in your mouth. Savoring every second until you can feel your nose touch his pelvis, and staying there for as long as you can until you had to pull back and get air inside your lungs again, which was short lived since he immediately pushed you back down on him. You gripped his thighs, needing to hold on to something to so not to fall down completely on the floor, and with a fistful of your hair, he let you bob your head up and down, picking the pace up every time, his curses and groans giving you motivation while he got rid of his shirt and blazer.

Then you were pulled back again, a lewd 'pop’ resonating through the walls while saliva ran down your mouth and to your neck. Not even his old high school  fantasies of you compared to the sight you were providing right now, you were ruined but not enough for his liking, and he needed to fix that soon. Moving you back with a soft yank of your hair (that you couldn’t deny you liked) he guided you to the floor, turning you around and making you get on all fours for him, and getting your clothes off your body. Gripping himself, he teased your entrance with his tip, and you moved your hips back to make him go in already, but he had other plans for you, “Tell me how much you want it, I wanna hear you loud and clear baby.” He demanded, and even if you were desperate for him, you were still a little shy about being more vocal. He smacked your ass roughly when you stayed quiet for too long, and you yelped, “C'mon baby, I can spank you the whole day if I have to until you say what I want to hear.” he whispered in your ear while massaging the reddening cheek, he most definitely left a hand print on your ass. You gulped, unsure to whether to keep quiet and getting another one or saying your dirtiest thoughts aloud, his other hand landing on your unmarked cheek when you took too long to think about it, he tried a gentler tactic and pushed two fingers easily inside of you. You were practically dripping for him, and the cold metal of his rings against your heat was driving you wild every time he pumped his digits in and out of you painfully slow. “Fuck, Namjoon-” a loud moan"-Just fuck me please. Ruin me, with your cock, don’t stop until I can’t take it anymore.“ A whimper “Have your way with me, please” he pulled his fingers out of you, the emptiness to cruel. You looked back at him, confused and a little pissed off that he had stopped.

His face was completely different from before, unlike the cool and calmed expression he’d been wearing this whole time, was replaced by one of pure surprise as he painfully gripped himself so to calm down, then he locked eyes with you “Shit- Damn baby,-” he placed his hands gently on your hips aligning himself with your entrance, “-you have such a filthy mouth on you, I almost came just from that.” He started pushing himself inside your walls, mercilessly slow, turning you into a moaning mess from how deliciously he stretched you, “Fuck, you feel so nice around my cock. Do you like that? You like how good my dick feels inside you? Do you like how fucking desperate I got you without even moving baby?” a chorus of 'yes’ seemed to be the only thing coming out of your lips, you could feel him filling you up entirely, and then more and you couldn’t wait for him to just destroy you “Namjoon please-” you begged him, and he didn’t need you to repeat yourself again. His thrusts were powerful, every time he pulled back he went back in with more force, the grip on your hips tightening until the pain dulled into pleasure. The top part of your body fell down in exhaustion, the new angle providing even more ecstasy for the both of you, taking you to your arousal faster and faster, his sinful words becoming filthier and slurred as he reached his, his satoori more present than ever. He reached down to grip your neck, and with an extra rough thrust, you came hard, screaming his name clear and loud for the unfortunate person who walked by the room to hear. He let you go, pulling out and and releasing his seed all over your back, catching you and himself as you both collapsed on the paint covered floor. Both of you equally spent from your little improv session, the only thing noises left being both of your gasps as you tried to catch your breath, your bodies covered in sweat and cum (and markings but that was just you, courtesy of Kim Namjoon).

After a few minutes, realization dawned on both of you. You just had sex, together, in the art room, with each other, instead of working on your project. Awkward didn’t begin to describe the feeling in the room, Namjoon broke the silence first “So, how’s that for inspiration?” you couldn’t help but laugh, the guy gave you the best fuck of your life and he’s choosing now to act shy? “You know, maybe I need another explanation from you.” it was his turn to chuckle now, “Well you’re always welcome to call me for anything.”



You both received the highest scores in your assignment, and you also  kept calling each other for anything.

And you mean anything.

Dog Sam Afternoon

Description: Basically an entire rewrite of dog dean afternoon (S9E5) with reader added and poor Sammy is the one with the sudden dog mild meld powers!! Fluff and funny!
Words: 2,440
Warnings: just a few minor swear words!
Author’s notes: Dear anon, I hope this is what you wanted! Loved making Sam into his own dog like character, focused on Sam’s personality for the dog. Ending felt a little shaky but whatever, hope you enjoy, I certainly enjoyed writing it!

just found your blog (totally not in a stalker way!!!) I loooooooooooved hitman omg omg, was wondering if you could do a fic where sammy gets the ability to talk to animals instead of Dean in S9E5? Reader is with them and really loves dogs? If it’s too weird don’t worry! Thank yoooouu!

Sam, Dean and you were in your FBI attire and had just finished examining the latest body of a kennel attendant who had been killed last night. It was the second animal killing in this town of late, so worth checking out. The last one had been a taxidermist who was killed by something snakelike, this one had claw marks though, entirely different from the other venomous attack. So far the three of you had no leads further than the local animal activist group S.N.A.R.T, a vegan bakery and a whole lot of freaky stuffed animals. So here you were, with the Winchesters in a kennel trying to dig up leads.

“Right, so, um, yesterday, we’re dealing with some sort of a snake monster. Today, it’s a killer kitty.” Dean said as you walked back through the kennels towards the exit.

“Yeah, just a regular day at the zoo.” You muttered to the boys earning a small smirk from the pair of them.

“Hey, why does that mutt look familiar?” Sam said nodding his head towards a big German Shepherd dog in a kennel to your right.

“Aw, that was the poor little pup that was left behind at the taxidermist’s place, how do you guys not remember?! It was Colonel, right boy?” You cooed to the dog, making its tail start to wag.

“Wait, so he’s been at both crime scenes?” Sam said.

“Yeah, shapeshifter or skinwalker, maybe?” Dean eyed the dog suspiciously before taking a silver dollar from his pocket and giving the dog a tickle behind the ear with it. Judging by the fact that there was no reaction and Dean’s awkward shuffle, the dog was just a dog.

You were about to make a comment when the local sheriff walked past sending the German Shepherd into a frenzy of barking that only stopped when the sheriff was out of sight.

“Hey, hey, shhh,” you said crouching down to calm down the big dog. “Sam, could you grab back that sheriff for a second?”

Sam complied and walked back over with the man causing the dog to have another barking fit. You turned to the brothers with a raised eyebrow as the confused sheriff made an excuse to leave.

“Well, I think I know who our next interview needs to be with!” You said laughing

“Great. I’ll phone Kevin then. I read a book about a man who tried to teach his dog to speak once” Sam dug out his phone.

“Of course you did…” You rolled your eyes in disbelief, if it actually worked that could be another thing to add to you list of hunting experiences you never expected.

A few hours later the three of you were back in the shared motel room with Colonel and an ominous glass of liquid in the centre of a table. Kevin had given you all a spell that should work and much to Dean’s annoyance, Sam had volunteered to try it.

“Here goes,” said Sam, drinking down the deep red liquid in a few gasps. “Ugh. That was gross.” He shuddered before reaching for the words he needed read to activate the spell. “Deila hér me. Dag eru nou rar vitur orum.”

You blinked a few times and began looking between Sam and Colonel expectantly.

“Well? Can you hear Cujo now?” Dean said looking at his brother sceptically.

“No.” Sam said, looking slightly disappointed. “Look guys, sorry for wasting time, back to the books I guess.”

“Tell you what, if we’re hitting research again, I’ll go out and grab some take-out, any preferences?” You said, reaching over colonel for your handbag. He gave you a big lick on the way past. “Okay pup, I’ll get you a bone,” you smiled and turned back to the guys, “but really, requests?”

“A burger and pie?” Dean said with a wink.

“Some sort of interesting tofu salad for me, thanks Y/N!” Sam murmured, already with his head in a book.

You waved goodbye, ruffling Sam’s hair on the way past to annoy him, you probably shouldn’t of even had to ask what they wanted, they were so predictable. Without another glance, you set off for the shops.


Sam’s POV

Half an hour later we were all hungrily eating our food, including a bone Y/N had managed to find on the way back for colonel. She was so soft around dogs, who knew?

I grabbed another mouthful of salad leaves and chicken.

“Ugh, so much green, where’s the proper meat, man?”

I looked up expecting it to be Dean, but he couldn’t talk that clearly with the amount of food he had shovelled in his mouth. Y/N was sat on the floor, oblivious, with her books and food because she’d wanted to give colonel a cuddle before we took him back later. I shook my head, obviously it was someone outside.

“But really, tofu? That’s just embarrassing, you’re huge, you must have to eat mountains of the stuff to keep that physique”

Okay, that was definitely not either of my hunting companions and it was definitely not outside.

“It’s me dipshit, down here.”

With that colonel picked up and dropped his bone back down on the floor, earning a coo from Y/N and her giving him a scratch behind the ear.

“Aw yeah, right there, that’s it-”

“What’d you do that for, boy? Hmm? Aw, is that nice? Do you like cuddles?” Y/N said in light airy voices to the dog.

“Oh baby, you know I do.”

“Dude, seriously! Shut up! That’s just gross, you’re not even the same species!” I snapped at the dog.

Y/N stopped what she was doing and whipped her head up in shock. “What the hell, Sam? No need to be like that, it’s what people say to dogs, I thought you used to have one?”

“Smooth. She can’t hear me, you idiot.”

“What? No! I mean yeah, I… Um… I was talking to colonel. Y/N you might want to sit up at the table, he was enjoying that a bit too much.” I said nodding my head towards colonel who was now sat upright.

“Ruin all my fun.” The dog laid back down and sulked as Y/N got up, grabbing all her books, giving him a weird look.

“Wait, Sammy, you can hear the mutt? Ask him about the murders!” Dean said dropping the remainder of his burger, eyes wide.

“Ah yeah, the douchewheel that killed my best friend was wearing a cowboy hat! He smelt of red meat, detergent and tiger balm. He reeked!”

“What’s he saying?” Y/N asked with an excited look. I repeated the key points hurriedly.

“What about the cats?” Dean said.

“I don’t know, I didn’t exactly have the best seat in the orphanage.”

“He doesn’t know, couldn’t see.” I said sighing and slumping in my chair.

Y/N walked past me to grab my wrapper for the bin and messed my hair up on the way. I pushed into her touch and closed my eyes, whining a little when she stopped and kept walking.

“You alright there, Sammy?” Dean smirked from across the table.

“Yeah, I’m fine?” I said, giving Dean a weird look.

“Okay, so if colonel didn’t see anything, maybe it’d be worth going back to the kennels with your doolittle powers to see if any other dog did?” Y/N said, oblivious.

“Sounds like a plan!” I said getting up, I went and stood next to Dean, staring longingly at what was left of his burger.

“Can I help you Sammy?” Dean said and then cocked an eyebrow. “Wait, are you seriously begging?”

“I, er, no!” I stuttered, shaking my head I walked to the door and starting hopping around a little bit. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

“Aw man, you’re in so deep.” Colonel sighed.


15 minutes later we were getting out the car at the kennels.

“Y/N, do you have a hairbrush or something?” Dean asked as he slammed the door.

“No, I know what you’re thinking, but no, I don’t.” She said smirking at Dean. “Sam, what your brother is trying to tactfully say is please, do something to your hair, having your head out the window the whole way has made it a complete mess.”

“Oh, right.” I said awkwardly shuffling. On the way here we had phoned Kevin and it turned out that the Inuit spell we were using had side effects, causing me to gain certain dog like characteristics until it wore off. I had discovered a love for having my head out of the window on the way here, I liked the way it felt in my hair and also I could smell what we passed by better.

Y/N walked over to try and put a few strands back in place. I subconsciously closed my eyes and whimpered causing her to burst out laughing and leave me to it. I gave her my best puppy dog eyes until she finally gave in and sorted the rest out for me.

“Now you see my point from earlier?” I heard from the dog at the side of me.

“Shut up.” I said giving the dog a playful push and my hardest bitchface.

The kennel interviews went well, I got the information quickly from a very friendly Yorkshire terrier. The man in the cowboy hat had actually eaten one of the cats and taken the rest in a sack labeled with a French restaurant in town, “Avant-Garde Cuisine”. I also left all the kennel doors part open and gave the dogs the instructions to wait 10 minutes after we had gone before making a bid for freedom. I couldn’t have Y/N and Dean winding me up for the rest of my life over freeing the dogs.

After dark we got out to go and see the chef with a cat problem in his natural, kitchen habitat. We had to leave colonel behind in the impala with strict rules set by Dean to not barf or chew in the car. Y/N had given the dog another bone to keep him quiet and with that, we set off towards the dimly lit restaurant’s back entrance.

I opened the door cautiously and stepped inside. The three of us walked slowly down the corridor, shining torches carefully into each space.

“Hey guys, you think this might be our man?” Y/N said, shining a torch at a photo on the wall of a man in a cowboy hat sharpening a knife of some sort.

“Looks about right,” Dean nodded toward the door to the kitchen next to it. “Ready?”

We bundled through the door way spreading out to investigate the door further, I got hit by an overwhelming amount of different smells making it hard to focus on just one.

“Hey! Over here!” Y/N whispered. I looked over to see a large, leather bound book she had found, titled “Shamanism”.

That certainly made life easy, clearly our chef was a witch. Further investigation of the room showed that the chef had been mixing different organs of animals to gain powers related to each animal. We decided splitting up would be the best option, I took the back hallway after hearing a noise.

It was dimly lit and I couldn’t really see anything, it seemed there wasn’t anything there so I went to head back to the kitchen. As I turned around I was confronted with the very chef we were here to look for. I took the safety off my gun and aimed at his chest. The chef was clearly as quick as I was running straight at me and knocking the gun out of my hand.

“You smell of dog.” He sneered as I blocked a kick aimed straight at my chest.

The next movement he made was apparently my downfall. He winked, throwing a pen from his pocket over my head.

“Fetch!” He yelled.

Against my better hunting judgement, I whipped my head around to follow the pen, by the time I had turned my head back, I was met with a fist to the face. The last thing I remembered was the world spinning, pain and black clouding my vision.

Reader POV

Sam came around about half an hour later. You had dealt with the chef only minutes after hearing him telling Sam to go fetch (you couldn’t wait to wind him up for that for at least the next year!)

“Is it done?” Sam said sitting up.

“Yeah, you can stop playing dead.” Dean shouted over your shoulder.

“Can you walk? We should probably go before someone gets here!” You said offering a hand to the large, dazed man.

By the time you had all bundled back into the street the strangeness of the day began to hit you. You opted to sit in the front of the impala leaving Sam to get in the back with the dog. In the morning you’d have to return colonel to the kennel, it was going to be rough, both you and Sam had fallen in love with the dog. Admittedly, you couldn’t hear what he was saying and you were pretty sure that some of the time you didn’t want to, but Sam was in near constant conversation with him. The funniest snippet you’d caught was Sam quizzing him on fighting instinct, you hoped it was as werewolf research but who knows.

You looked into the back seat a few minutes later to see Sam staring out of the window aimlessly scratching colonel behind the ear. It was a shame you couldn’t have a dog when hunting, but Dean was adamant.

When it came to returning colonel, you had made a deal with the leaders of S.N.A.R.T. and they were going to look after the big pup. For some reason a whole load of dogs had escaped from the kennels yesterday and they’d “rescued” them, so they had their hands full. Both Sam and you had ended up crying when having to leave colonel behind, Dean didn’t seem bothered on the surface but you knew he cared really. Sam had taken photos with him before leaving town, which in your opinion was adorable.

“Hey Y/N,” you heard Sam say, snapping you or of your thoughts. You were in a gas station as you were traveling back to the bunker. “Did you grab the food for the rest of the way?”

“Yes, pasta for me, burger for dean and, um, steak salad for you.”

“Great, thank you!”

** hope this is okay anon!! **