#Dean Winchester x Fem! Reader

[mxltifxnd0m]

spring showers 𖥔 d.winchester

summary: dean interrupts your shower

pairings: dean winchester x reader, dean winchester x fem! reader

word count: 1.6K

warnings: no use of 'y/n', fluff, smidge of angst, nudity, mentions of smut, implied smut, cursing

a/n: this was inspired by an old fic i wrote for druig back in 2022 and decided to rework it for dean! this is not full on smut but has NSFW themes so MINORS DNI!! you have been warned!

anyways reblog and comment i love seeing your thoughts and i hope you guys enjoy it!

𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Steam filled the shower room of the bunker as water glided down your face and body.

You had a love for showers. Not that you don’t enjoy a bath once in a while, but those were more of a luxury than a necessity. You loved a hot shower after a brutal hunt, the warm water relaxing the sore muscles of your shoulders and back. The stinging of your wounds while the water ran down your body served as a reminder that you were still alive and not another casualty in a long line of them caused by the monsters. 

It was satisfying to see the crimson-red stained water roll down the drain until it turned clear. There were times you stayed in the shower until the hot water ran out and cold water started to spurt out of the showerhead. However, you didn’t get this often because of the rundown motels you stayed at while on hunts. Hot showers were used sparingly if you were bunking with the Winchesters.

Ah, yes, the Winchester brothers. You had the pleasure of meeting them when you were crashing at Bobby’s. They stumbled through the front door and found you sitting at the kitchen table in nothing but an old oversized t-shirt and shorts that were hidden underneath the shirt and eating cereal.

They were understandably confused when they saw a woman eating at Bobby’s kitchen table, and you noticed the shorter one of the two (even though he still towered over you); his gaze had never left your figure. You practically felt naked under his piercing stare, his forest green eyes flickering between your bare legs, your exposed shoulder, and face. 

Before you could introduce yourself, Bobby came stumbling into the kitchen to see the three of you staring at each other. Bobby grunted and introduced you to Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean, the one who had been staring at you, sent you a charming grin before extending his hand out for you to shake. You took it, feeling the roughness of his palm against yours and how it enveloped your smaller hand. You pulled away before shaking Sam’s. 

From then on, you would run in the Winchesters occasionally, either Bobby sending them your way or vice versa when you guys needed help on hunts. Communication between you and the brothers was scarce since you didn’t want to get attached to them, knowing how this life could turn out for those who did. You weren’t there when Bobby died, having lost contact with them before he did.

You reconnected with the brothers after having been asked by Jody, who you were acquainted with and who had told you Bobby had passed, for some help on a hunt and asked the Winchesters for help. She didn’t know that the three of you knew each other, but it was a pleasant surprise for you when you heard the roar of the Impala pulling into the motel parking lot where you were staying. 

Seeing them was a little awkward at first, but you guys got back into the comfortable rhythm that you once had prior to losing contact with each other. With three heads instead of one, you, Dean, and Sam quickly finished the hunt and went out to the local bar to celebrate. They had filled you in on what had happened with Bobby and everything that happened after that. You were surprised to find out that they had a home base they went back to after they were finished with their hunts. 

You found it a little strange that they called it “The Bunker,” and the whole Men of Letters situation was peculiar, but hey, you knew that Sam and Dean got into a lot of weird shit than the usual hunter. Sam had clocked in early that night, wanting to get some rest, and you and Dean stayed at the bar chatting until they were doing the last calls.

You and Dean had an interesting relationship with one another. Dean made it known from the beginning that he was attracted to you and wanted to sleep with you. He flirted with you constantly and would blush if you would flirt back. But over time, you guys built a tentative friendship with one another before losing contact.

You couldn’t deny the fact that you were attracted to Dean, but you had sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t sleep with Dean Winchester. Even before you had been introduced to him, you had heard that he was a love em and leave them type. You witnessed it multiple times when you would hunt together. It stung each time you saw the satisfied smirk on Dean’s face the morning after when you guys met at the diner before you parted ways. 

But this time around, you were slightly surprised that Dean hadn’t ditched you for the waitress who kept making eyes at him the entire night, and he drove you back to the motel where the two of you were staying. You didn’t want to stop talking to Dean, so you invited him for a nightcap, which ended up with you waking up the next day with a pounding headache, naked and tucked into Dean’s side as he slept soundly.

You started to panic and curse yourself out in your head. You did the thing that you said you wouldn’t do. As you thought about your next move, staring at him, Dean stirred and woke up to find you staring hard at him. His chuckle broke you out of your reverie, and you sent him a small smile, hiding your internal debate of getting up and deciding to try and to act normal was the best course of action. 

It seemed that Dean was able to see through your strained smile since his eyebrows were furrowed with concern before he raised his hand to your cheek and asked if everything was alright. You were going to lie and say everything was fine, but what actually came out of your mouth was the truth and how you weren’t sure where you stood with him after the night you guys had shared. 

Dean’s expression relaxed, his smile soft as his thumb brushed against the apple of your cheek. He opened his mouth to respond, but warm hands rested on your bare hips, making you tense, and your eyes flew open and broke you out of your trip down memory lane. You quickly turned around to meet green eyes filled with mirth, and sparks of desire scattered through his eyes along with the gold flecks. 

You relaxed as Dean smirked, as his gaze traveled down your naked body before meeting your eyes again. “Expecting someone else, sweetheart?” Dean asked with a cocked head. 

“Yeah, I was expecting Sam.” You quipped as you sent him a sarcastic smile. “How did you know that I told him to meet him here with me?” 

“Not funny.” Dean mocked your sarcastic grin before he scowled. He moved his hands to your waist and pulled you closer to him, your arms winding around his shoulders.

You laughed at the grumpy expression on his face, the sound echoing off of the tiled walls. Dean couldn’t help the corner of his mouth twitching upward at the sound of your laugh. He loved the sound of your laugh, and it never failed to make him smile or feel better when he was feeling off.   

“Anyway,” You said as you calmed down, “Not that I don’t love seeing you here like this,” You moved your eyebrows up and down as you took in Dean’s naked form, “but why are you in here?” 

“I needed to take a shower and you happened to be in here.” Dean said with innocent eyes as he stared at you, his hands squeezing your waist. 

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Right. Doesn’t explain why you’re in the shower I’m using right now.” 

“Can a guy not take a shower with his girl?”

You scoffed at him. “You and I both know that showers with you never end up being just showers.” 

Dean went to respond, but you cut him off. “Nope, not hearing it. I came in here to shower and not have sex with you.” 

Dean pouted at your words before leaning forward, his nose brushing against yours. 

“What if I said please?” 

“Still a no.” 

Dean groaned loudly, throwing his head back, unintentionally thrusting his hips into your stomach, feeling his erection brush against the skin of your stomach. One of your hands fell from his shoulder and down his chest, making Dean’s head snap back to stare at you. You had a sly smile on your face as your hand slowly trailed down his freckled chest, past his stomach, and lingered on the ‘V’ of his hips, getting dangerously close to his cock. You saw Dean swallow thickly as his breath became labored, waiting for your next move. 

“How about this? You let me finish my shower, and I’ll help out with your not-so-little problem.” You brushed the back of your hand against his erection before grasping it and leaning in and kissing Dean’s neck. 

“Okay?” You asked him after pulling away from his neck. You saw his green eyes blown out with lust as he nodded. 

“Words, honey.” You emphasized your words with a squeeze of your hand around his cock.

Dean let a small groan leave his mouth before he cleared his throat. “Yeah, sounds good.”

You smiled at him before kissing him softly against his plush lips. “Good boy.” You murmured against his lips before pulling away from him altogether. You turned back to face the hot water that was spraying against your back to finish your shower, and you smirked to yourself as you heard Dean’s bare feet hurry against the tile and out of the shower room. 

“Ew, Dean! Why don’t you have a towel?!” You heard Sam exclaim in disgust from the hallway, making you giggle loudly at Sam’s misfortune of seeing his brother naked. 

[emisanemu]

I wrote 400 words guys, in a fic I’ve been working on for three years, only like 2000 more to go.

[ryuzakemo128]

Hunters, Vampires and Bears. Oh my!~ Supernatural Imagine

Trigger Warning: Mentions of violence, gore and cursing.

A/N: My first try at writing something to do with the show Supernatural. This is set from Season four about the 66 seals and Lucifer.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Ophelia (Female Reader)

Link to Ophelia headcanons

The tap turned on and off in the bathroom, Ophelia frowned unable to discern the cause of the electrical circuits failing, taps turning on and off by themselves and the brief cold tempertures that came and went while it all happened. She didn't think much of it at first because she had dealt with ghosts, spirits in the past. Not like these ones, but similar to it at the very least. She sat on her motel bed crossing her arms rather confused and tired. IT wouldn't let her leave and she couldn't get out while this happened. They were at a standoff that had lasted at least three of four days already. Whoever or whatever it was didn't seem to care about the effects it would have to the people around the room let alone Ophelia.

"This world isn't like my own, it seems to have things that latch on longer than they should and the humans here are that much weirder," She thought to herself pacing around the room, "The last creature that spoke to me mentioned something about seals and a demon that called itself Lucifer. As much as I say I have no clue what they're talking about. It gets their tempers hotter than a boiling kettle."

Ophelia sighed thinking harder about this factor, pondering about what to ask the next time they decided to show up again. Which they have, two of them a blonde standing in front of her with a smirk firmly planted on her lips. White eyes, a demon to be sure and a powerful at that.

"You're not like those other demons that have already been here, you're a lot different, your eyes are white and not black for starters. So who are you and what do you want?" Ophelia asked her pacing around her in a circle inspecting her closely.

"You're a hunter aren't you?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

"You're nothing like the ones I saw,"

"No I wouldn't be. My world doesn't have demons or angels."

"Well this is your world now, so get used to it."

"No, I don't think I will."

Ophelia and this white eyed demon glared at each other for what it felt like a dozen centuries or maybe even longer. Ophelia struck first and the fight shook the ground around them. The fight with Lady Maria was more exciting than this one and Maria had more finesse than what she saw in this demon she's currently fighting. Ophelia's white hair seemed to glow underneath moonlit sky and she's only getting started.

"I don't plan on killing you by the way," She stated after her hunter's axe collided into the demon's body sending her into the wall of the house that is only a few miles away from them, "I'm stalling, so tweedledee and tweedledum get here or you can leave and lick your wounds somewhere,"

"Sam and Dean will kill you, I just want to watch it happen." Castiel got in the way and with that they were gone.

"You could have gotten yourself killed," Dean yelled clearly upset. Sam looked angry arms crossed and Bobby said he didn't want to talk to her for a while.

"I can handle it Dean, I have been hunting these types of creatures long before you were born,"

"That's not the issue Ophelia," Sam interjected, "The problem is that you lied about it,"

"I didn't lie about it, you just never asked and I never told you. So how the fuck is that lying?"

"From this point onward you stay here," Dean says pointing to Bobby's house.

"I don't think so, you can't go around telling me what I can or can not do. I have done way more for you in the terms of making you into a lethal hunter, I made you those quicksilver bullets and used my own blood to make them. I even gave you a shotgun to use them. What more do I need to do to prove that I can handle it."

[randommultifandomrants]

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.

[cosmicanakin]

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐆𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐘 ⟢ | dean winchester.

next part … 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⟣𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. dean winchester x female reader.

⟣ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. where you accidentally give dean a hard on during a hunt.

⟣ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). sexual tension, strong language, sex innuendos, implied smut.

kari's corner ⟢ ݁⋆ he's been running on my mind all day and i needed to let my thoughts run wild. so enjoy — you'll definitely thank me later!

the hunt had taken an unexpected turn, leaving you and dean pressed up against each other, your back flush against his chest. you shifted slightly, trying to get a better vantage point, when you felt dean's grip tighten on your hips, holding you in place.

"dean—" you began to ask, but the words died on your lips as you felt something hard pressing against you from behind. your eyes widened in realization, heat creeping up your face.

"shit, sweetheart, i'm so sorry," dean murmured, his voice strained. "i didn't mean for that to happen."

you whisper to dean in his ear, "we'll deal with this after the hunt, okay?"

he nodded mutely, your heart racing, already imagining ways to help him with his... situation. a small smile plays on your lips as he replied, "you're the best," he murmurs, hearing the mix of relief and anticipation in his voice.

"of course, dean. i've got you."

dean let out a shaky breath, his grip on your hips tightening ever so slightly.

with that, the two of you turned your focus back to the hunt, both eagerly awaiting the chance to properly address the growing tension between you.

[nyxiswrites1200]

🩵𝑺𝒂𝒎'𝒔 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍🩵

Sam Winchester x Fem!reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, Crushing, friends to lovers, pet names, Sexual tension, Mellow sexual thoughts, Size kink, p in v, nipple play, multiple rounds, oral sex, praise kink, aftercare

Mentions: She/her reader pronouns, Reader wears a skirt, Reader is implied to be shorter than Sam, Imagining early seasons Sam, Dean is present

"In a world of boys, he's a gentleman"

AN: uhh I know I died for like a month but supernatural brain rot is incoming. Sam girl for life <3 anyhow, happy holidays loves. This is so self-indulging, sorry babes.

----

Sam Winchester is an awkward man. He's so respectful he doesn't know what to do with himself sometimes. But don't mistake his sweet attitude for a lack of attraction.

When you bend over to pick his book up off the floor for him, he notices your skirt sliding up your thighs. He quickly looks away as he runs a hand through the back of his messy brown hair.

Sam always opens the door of the Impala for you when you join him and Dean on road trips. He notices the way you let your hand brush over his arm as you help yourself into the car. Dean just lets out a small laugh as he climbs into the driver's seat.

Sam watches you saunter around the motel room in his shirt. Under the claim that 'it's just more comfortable'. He loves the way your figure is swallowed up by his larger clothes.

Sometimes it was almost degrading how respectful he was. In truth, you were trying to get his attention. To catch him peaking under your skirt, getting hard from seeing you in his shirt, or him finally being pushed over the edge by your 'discreet' affectionate touches. You swore you were gonna have to climb in his lap and say "fuck me" for him to actually do it.

In truth, Sam wasn't oblivious to what you wanted. Rather he was too kind to give it to you. He thought you were so precious that he needed to deny you. Sleeping with you would be too personal, too intimate and he wouldn't be able to let go of you after.

Dean let out a small laugh, Sam and him were alone in the hotel room while you went to go get dinner for the three. "What, Dean?" Sam asked in his partially sassy attitude as he read through his book. "Nothing nothing...it's just funny watching her pawn for you. Think you might be hurtin' her feelings." Dean smirked as he looked over at his little brother. Sam sighed in response, knowing he could only be talking about you. "I'm not that stupid, I know what she wants...I just..." he ran a hand through his hair "I don't think I should". "Sammy" Dean inquires "Look, she knows what we do. She hasn't gone running yet and she's perfectly human, there's nothing dangerous about that girl" he chuckles. "I know you're afraid because of what happened but...I think this might be something worth risking".

Sam let Dean's words simmer in his thoughts all night. For once he might actually agree with his older brother.

The next night you and Sam were alone. You finally spilled, being brutally honest. Sam watched with a bit of shock as you admitted how you'd be pawning for him. All your actions had a purpose and how bad you wanted to be his girlfriend. You almost wanted to cry with how emotionally overwhelmed this made you trying to explain yourself.

"Lovely, I'm sorry..." Sam stands as he cups your cheek and tilts your head up to meet his gaze. "I know you want me but I was being selfish because I know if I...indulge myself in you, I won't be able to let you go ever again." he explained, his voice was so gentle and his eyes reminded you of a puppy with the way he looked at you. "Maybe...I'm a little selfish too" you chime in "I just...I wanna be yours so bad that I don't really care what happens".

Those words alone tumbled the tension between both of you over the edge. Sam's kisses were soft then heated and needy. He had you pushed against the motel wall while both of you discarded your clothes. His larger figure covered you as he kissed you desperately. His hands engulfed your hips as he gripped them.

Once you two were on the bed, his hands fondled your breasts, teasing your nipples between his fingers. His chest pressed into your back as he kissed along your neck. You reached back to tangle a hand into his hair.

Sam was so sweet but he was a fucking god in bed. He knew exactly where to kiss, fondle, and tease. Nothing but deeply slurred words of "How does that feel?", "You okay?", "Taking me so well, lovely", and "Good girl...". You went three rounds with him...

He rubbed your clit and toyed with your nipples, leaving kisses and sucking up your neck. You came on his fingers, feeling him stretch you open. You wanted to watch his strong hands fuck into you so bad.

He nestled himself between your thighs. His tongue lapping up your first orgasm. You watched as you tugged on his hair, noticing the dominant look in his eyes. His hands gripping your thighs to keep them spread as you squirmed beneath him. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked on it until he fucked his tongue inside you while you came again.

Then finally he fills you with his cock, only after making sure you were okay. He had you stuffed to the brim, grunts and moans leaving him with each thrust. He pressed his forehead against yours as he kissed your cervix with the tip of his dick.

When you came for a third time, he let you ride your high until he pulled out and finished on your stomach. A gentleman as always, not stuffing you with his cum on the first night. Even if you wouldn't have minded.

Sam carefully cleaned you up in the bath. Warm water envelops you both. He placed a soft kiss on your shoulder and gently rubbed your side as he cleaned you up. His actions are no longer lustful, this was just affectionate. "Did you enjoy yourself? Wasn't too much?" he asked softly, his expression back to looking like a puppy. "I'm fine, Sammy. It was perfect..." You smiled and kissed him softly.

[pinkgic]

tw: smut (mdni), drinking, casual car sex.

dean was never “relationship material.” blame it on his “hunter life” or his “mommy-daddy-and-family-in-general” issues. he couldn’t hold down a committed relationship for more than two months—and that would’ve been a new record.

so, instead, he’d stick to flirting with women in bars, making them feel really good, and then forgetting about them. love ‘em and leave ‘em!

this was one of those nights, after a long, brutal case, where he just needed to blow off some steam. and there you were, laughing with your friends, celebrating your birthday, looking sweet and carefree in your sparkly outfit, with that goofy birthday hat that made you look fucking cute. twenty-one.

he watched you downing shots like a pro. he wasn’t stalking you, of course—don’t get it twisted. he was just waiting for the right moment to make his move.

when your hips swayed their way to the bar where he was taking his whiskey, feeling bold (though it wasn’t like dean winchester needed alcohol to feel bold), you leaned against the bar with a big, bright smile. he knew that was his winner moment.

“happy birthday, sweetheart,” he smirked, nodding at your birthday hat as you gave him a puzzled look like, how does this guy know it’s my birthday?

you laughed, pulling the hat off awkwardly. “oh, right. thanks.”

“enjoying yourself?” he sipped his whiskey, watching you nod.

“yeah, i didn’t want anything too big...” you shrugged, a tipsy habit of yours—oversharing with strangers. “my boyfriend ditched me for someone else two days ago, awesome, right?”

what kind of idiot would leave someone like you? he needed to show you what a real man felt like—at least for tonight.

and that’s how he ended up with you in his lap, your ass jiggling with every spank he gave it, while his other hand gripped your hip to help you bounce on his cock. “there you go, pretty girl.”

baby’s windows were fogged up, streaked with the marks of your fingers as you struggled to match the rhythm of his hips thrusting up into you, the impala vibrating with the heavy metal blasting from the speakers mixing with your moans and dean's deep grunts.

this was easily the best birthday present you got this year. a welcome change from your lame ex, who didn’t even know what a clit was, and this man knew what he was doing, flicking your clit with his thumb, making your legs tremble just the right way.

a loud moan slipped from your lips as your back arched, your nails digging into his shoulders while he slammed the head of his cock against your g-spot. a smirk appearing.

“just like that, fuck,” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, your hips moving faster. your hand slid up to the back of his neck, pulling him into a sloppy kiss.

“mm, baby, ridin’ me like a fuckin’ cowgirl, huh?” he muttered against your lips, tugging lightly on your bottom lip with his teeth. “bet you’ve never had dick this good, all to yourself.”

[whorefordean]

wear the hat || d.w

i read exactly one cowboy romance so enjoy (fake)cowboy!dean and the cowboy hat rule

wc: 1.9k

cw: raw dogging, semi public sex, use of petname (sugar), the cowboy hat rule

taglist: @the-last-ry

mdni 18+

you can’t help yourself. dean looks so goofy in the outfit, and you can’t refrain from teasing him about it. on this hunt, for whatever reason, dean thought it’d be best if he poses as a cowboy. 

“to get more information from the locals. they’ll never talk if i look like a city boy, sweetheart,” dean says with a simple shrug. there’s a smile playing on his face, and you cann’t help but to roll your eyes. 

“dean, you’re from kansas and you wear flannels every day. nobody thinks you’re a city boy. the hat is most definitely overkill,” you tell him as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“i’m not taking it off,” dean huffs, matching your pose. you glare at him momentarily. he doesn’t look bad. in fact, he looks hot as fuck, and maybe, that’s why you need him to chill out on the disguise. 

you toss your hands up in defeat and follow him into the bar. the two of you split up rather quickly. you’re working your charm on the drunken men for any information you could pry out of them about the missing people while dean made his way to a group of women to do the same. 

almost an hour later, you finally manage to get the information you need, and you’re off to find dean. it’s nearing eleven pm at this point and you are ready to go. that is, until you see dean sitting at the bar with a girl who is entirely too close for your comfort. 

you and dean aren’t an item, per se, but the two of you have been a little more than friendly on more than one drunken occasion. 

you tap on dean’s shoulder lightly in an effort to get his attention. nothing. the girl he’s talking to is shooting you glares every chance she gets. you roll your eyes and decide that there was only one way to get his attention. 

so you snatch the cowboy hat off his head and slip it onto yours. dean whips around to face you. you’re expecting him to snatch it right back, but instead, dean just smirks, seemingly forgetting all about the blonde he was talking to a minute beforehand. 

“i’m ready to go,” you huff, adjusting the hat on your head. your hands finally rest on your waist, hip popping out. dean doesn’t say anything. just kept staring and grinning. 

“dean, seriously? what?” you puff, annoyed at his behavior. 

“you know the cowboy hat rule?” dean muses, leaning back to get a good look at you. his gaze rakes over you, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“the what?” you ask evenly. dean’s grin grows wider, and you are half tempted to slap it off of him. 

“the cowboy hat rule, sugar. wear the hat—” dean trails off. he leans forward until his hand rests against your waist, and his mouth is brushing your ear. 

“—ride the cowboy.” your eyes widen as he finishes the phrase. he pulls away just enough to watch your expression change from shock to compliance. he smiles proudly, knowing that you're more than willing to obey the rules. 

no words leave your mouth as you nod, allowing dean to drag you through the mess of people in the crowded bar. the cool summer air bathes both of you as dean pulls you through the exit door and ushers you to the impala. 

his rough hands in yours had your mind racing with thoughts of what they'd feel like skimming your body. in the three times that you and dean have slept together, both of you were too wasted to remember much about it the next morning. you'd wake up with those delicious bruises on your thighs or hips and hate yourself for not being able to remember what the hell went down the night before. however, you aren't ballsy enough to ask him to fuck you when you’re sober, so you settle for forgotten nights. 

your senses snap back to reality when you hear dean clear this throat. that shit eating grin is back on his face when he realizes that you'd been staring at his hand. 

"what is it, sugar? got a thing for hands or just mine?" dean teases relentlessly. you roll your eyes at him, shoving his shoulder lightly. he catches your wrist before spinning you around until you're bent over the hood of the impala. 

"dean," you gasp, bracing yourself against the black metal. dean laughs behind you and leans down until his chest is flush against your back. his lips brush against your shoulder, and you breathe out a sigh, dropping your head against the cool metal when dean starts to lift the hem of your dress up. 

"tell me what you want," dean says softly in your ear, pressing a kiss against your jaw. you have never been more grateful to be parked at the back of the lot. 

"you. need you," you whimper, reaching behind you to grasp at any inch of dean you could reach. 

"mm, 'm right here, sugar," dean says playfully as he hums against your skin. you groan, shaking your head and letting your hand slip down to dean's wrist. you grab his hand and lower it to your aching core. 

"need you here, dean," you say breathily when dean starts toying with your panties. you can hear him inhale sharply behind you, and you arch your back slightly. 

"fuck, sugar," dean groans. without warning, dean rips your underwear down your legs, helping you lift one leg at a time until the fabric is completely off your body. the cool air makes contact with your exposed cunt, causing you to hiss in pleasure. the cold doesn't last long because dean is shifting onto the ground behind you. his hands grip at your thighs, nudging them further open before he dips his tongue into your waiting pussy. 

you mewl as dean laps at you like a man starved. he hums something against your cunt, but you're too lost in the pleasure to listen. that is, until he slaps your ass. hard. you wince, lifting your head to look back at him. 

"answer me when i'm talking to you. being nice enough to eat this pretty little pussy," dean growls, but he doesn't mean it. he'd gladly get on his knees for you, and he'd stay there forever if you'd allow it. 

"what?" you whine, eyes rolling as dean sucks your clit into his mouth. 

"thought you were supposed to be ridin' me?" dean hums again, clearer this time. he doesn't give you time to answer before slipping a finger into you. you cry out when he adds another almost immediately after. 

"yes! yes, i will," you ramble, dropping your head to rest against the car again. your release is so close, and you clench around dean's fingers, his tongue still lapping away. 

before you can cum, dean withdraws his fingers and pulls away completely. you jerk your head around to meet his gaze, eyes wide with need. 

"no! please!" you beg pathetically, desperate for release. dean grips your chin lightly and pulls you back until he can kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. you moan into his mouth before he finally pulls away. 

"come on," dean orders, and you nod compliantly as he pulls you up from the hood of the impala. dean slips into the back seat first, pulling you in behind him. you barely touch the leather seats before dean is tugging you into his lap.

his hardened cock strains against his jeans, and you can’t stop from rolling your hips over his clothed bulge. you tug at his shirt impatiently. dean doesn’t object, tossing the fabric off his body and into the front seat.

his hands grip your hips as he leans in to kiss you again. he guides your hips, the two of you groaning at the friction. your arms are wrapped tightly around his shoulders. 

“fuck,” dean grunts again. he taps your ass lightly, so you pull away with a huff. your pout quickly dissolves when dean lifts you up just enough to undo the button of his jeans, allowing his cock to spring free. 

“oh my god,” you mumble as you stare at his dick. dean smirks before pulling back onto his lap. dean settles your cunt over his cock, but he doesn’t push himself inside of you. not yet. instead, he opts for getting his cock wet with your slick first. 

your eyes roll as you slide your pussy against his hardened dick. you grind your teeth when the head of dean’s cock slips against your clit repeatedly. 

“please,” you pant. dean hums, watching as your movements get more erratic. 

“dean, please. let me ride your cock,” you beg again. your eyebrows are knitted together with your eyes clenched shut. 

“go ahead, sugar. take it,” dean grunts before settling into you completely. you inhale sharply when he grips your ass, pushing you even further onto himself. 

you brace your hands against his shoulder, dropping your head to rest against one of them. dean gives you a second to adjust before he grabs your hips, urging you to move. 

so you do. 

you bite your lip, trying to keep your moans and mewls in as you ride dean. you couldn’t remember a time you felt so fucking full. dean’s dick was fucking perfect, hitting every spot that made your  vision blur with ecstasy. 

you lift your hips repeatedly before settling on grinding against him. you writhe in delight as dean drops his head back against the seat, hands gripping at the sides of your thighs as you continue to bounce and grind against him. you lower yourself to kiss against his neck before burying your face in his shoulder. 

“right there,” you whisper repeatedly, nipping at dean’s neck as your hips start to stutter. dean grips your hair in one hand, tugging your head back until your neck is on full display for him. his arm wraps around your waist, holding you flush against his chest. dean groans as he adjusts the two of you until he has the mobility to drill his hips into yours, cousin you to cry out in pleasure. he doesn’t relent as you finally come around his cock. 

deans sucks a deep bruise into your neck when he finally comes, muttering curses under his breath when his hips finally settle. the only sound in the car now is the two of you panting against each other. you lift your hips, whining as dean’s cum drips down your thighs. 

you look up at dean, but he’s distracted by the sight. his cheeks are reddened, and his eyes are hazy as he watches his cum drip out of your cunt. 

“dean–” 

“fuck, sugar. gonna have to let you steal that fucking hat more often if it means i get to watch you take my cock like that. you look so fucking pretty like this, sugar,” dean grunts, swiping his thumb through the mess on your thighs. he swipes his thumb up further, pressing against your clit before finally bringing his thumb up to your mouth. without speaking, dean nudges your lips open, making you taste the two of you. 

“goddamn it, sugar. can’t wait to use that pretty mouth next time.”

[arjwrites]

crawl home to her- dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: heaven or hell, dean will always crawl home to you.

warnings: brief mentions of hell, references to drinking, fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i got a bit carried away with this one and it ended up a little longer than anticipated hehehe i had too many ideas. this song is so sickening and is so dean-coded in the very best way. i hope you enjoy <3

arj's 100 follower event

xxx

Dean awoke in a permeating blackness, blinking his eyes, unable to tell at what point they were open or closed. His first instinct? To draw in a deep, sharp breath. His lungs resisted him, hesitant to stretch and swell as if they had been sitting stagnant for months. They offered him no help in forming words, a call for help. It took him a minute to gather his bearings, but the next thought that came to his mind? You. And from that moment, his body took over. As he kicked his way out of the pine box and clawed his way through the cold and heavy earth, he felt almost animalistic. He didn’t know where he was, he hardly knew who he was, but he knew he had to crawl home to you. Wherever you were. 

As Dean emerged from the ground, he gasped for air- clean, fresh air. It swirled around inside of him, exacerbating the emptiness of the cavern of his chest. He grappled with the earth around him, arms reaching out in a desperate fervor to pull him safely from the grave. There were sensations everywhere, almost screaming at him, so loud and foreign as if he hadn’t experienced them in… he didn’t know how long. The tickling of the damp grass against his arms, the hot sun beating down on his back, the heavy breeze settling behind him. It was you, he thought. It had to be your way of welcoming him back earthside- planting soft green kisses to his skin, wrapping him in healing warmth and light, and lifting him up to carry him home with the wind. He let his body push him to his feet, feeling every flex and release of his muscles individually, excruciatingly. 

 It was agonizing for Dean to will one foot in front of the other, trudging aimlessly in search of civilization. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the hunger, but he could see you right there next to him, clear as day, coaching him through each step of his journey. You floated along next to him like an angel, filling his emptiness and setting direction in his footsteps. 

He thought back to the day your paths had been undoubtedly intertwined forever. You and Dean had known of each other for a while- hunters always did- but never exchanged more than a few cordial hellos in passing. That was until a vampire hunt in a small town drew the attention of more than just himself and Sam. When you showed up on the hunt, he couldn’t help but be enamored by you. The way you made hunting, something so dark and painful, into something so graceful, so elegant, so beautiful. 

When he was able to convince you to stick around and celebrate after finishing the hunt, Dean felt both his heart leap and his stomach sink. As he drove, he kept glancing up into his rearview mirror to catch a glimpse at you, following behind him in your own car. He wracked his brain, trying to come up with conversation topics like he was rubbing together stones trying to create a spark. He was so excited to have you around, yet so nervous- an accusation he defended against when Sam taunted him on the ride over to the bar. 

“I don’t get nervous, Sammy. I- I don’t know, man. There’s just something about her. Can’t put my finger on it.” 

His eyes flickered back up to the rearview mirror as he spoke, catching you singing along to whatever song you were listening to. His heart fluttered- he wanted to know you, to memorize your favorite songs, to hear his inner thoughts spoken in your voice. In the here and now, where he was trekking through the woods, he smiled at the memory and let it instill in him a surge of motivation. He picked up his pace, humming your favorite song as he went, half to keep him grounded in the moment and half to help his mind wander back to you. 

Still thinking back to that first day, he remembered getting to the bar and admittedly, letting his nerves get the best of him. He threw back shots and tipped back beers in the hopes of quelling his anxieties, suppressing the parts of him that weren’t useful and drawing out his confident, personable self. Sam had left early, as usual, leaving the two of you alone, sat at a table in the corner of a crowded bar. The surface was a graveyard littered with empty bottles and glasses, very few of which belonged to you. You had been nursing your drinks, sipping slowly as Dean downed and gulped. So when he got a little out of hand, you were there to carry him home. 

When Dean woke alone the next morning, he was sure you had been a dream- too perfect to be real life, or his real life, anyway. His head pounded as he glanced around the unfamiliar motel room, noticing the single bed and feminine belongings that clued him he wasn’t in the room he had rented with Sam. He sat up, grasping at his head, trying to piece together where exactly he was. There was no way he had gone home with you. He remembered the way he had acted the night before, and how sober you had still been. You must have dumped him with a random girl to take him off your hands. His heart sank to his stomach- if he had messed up his chances with you, he wouldn’t forgive himself. 

Before he could linger in this fear for long, he heard two separate laughs nearing the front door. When it swung open to reveal you and Sam, chatting and clutching coffees and paper bags of breakfast food, Dean let himself flop back down to the bed in relief. Wishing him a good morning, you tossed him pain relievers and a water bottle, setting a coffee and a breakfast sandwich down on his- no, your- bedside table. You briefly recounted the night before for him, noting how you had brought him back here when Sam didn’t answer his phone. You didn’t dwell on his actions, didn’t poke fun, didn’t complain or criticize. Your presence was light as a feather, your body and voice floating around the room as you tidied things up or nibbled at your breakfast. Sam shot him a knowing glance that would later be supplemented with verbal approval. I like her, Dean. Don’t mess this up. 

Back in reality, Dean had finally emerged from the woods, stepping from the dense tree cover onto a dusty road. There wasn’t much to see- no buildings or signs of civilization in any direction. The breeze picked up and whistled through his ears in the form of your voice- keep going, Dean. So on he went. 

As he walked, sometimes his image of you would flicker and fade like a ghost and his thoughts would plunge back down to Hell. There were a few moments along his path where he would pause to hinge at the hips and dry heave in a desperate attempt to purge the memories from his body alongside the dust in his throat. It made him sick, what he did in Hell. At a few points, when he got too caught up in his thoughts, he’d come to a full stop. In those moments, he didn’t care if he lived or died. His heart ached for you, but he didn’t deserve you anymore. You were the only pure goodness in the world that he had ever known, and now, he was tainted beyond repair. But then would come the breeze. This time, it smelled sweet- miraculously, as there was nothing but dirt road and baking heat to scent it. It was beckoning him, calling him home. It was washing him of his sins. You didn’t care, you never would. Always kind, always forgiving. That was his baby. Sweet as can be.  The journey ended in your arms. At times, he thought it never would. He thought he was trapped, imprisoned on a long dirt path, being taunted with the promise of you like a carrot on a stick. But he found a car, found a map, found his way home. You didn’t believe it was him at first- why would you, when a long list of monsters seemed so much more plausible? But if Dean’s first act of repentance had been his passage home, his second act was proving himself to you. That it was him, here and now, real and resting in your fingertips. All Dean knew was Hell. It was real, he had lived it. But when you reached out your arms to embrace him, Hell was just a word that dissipated into space the moment it left his lips. This must be Heaven. You must be heaven.

[thirdsaltyhunter]

Satin and Denim

Dean Winchester x female!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, fingering, oral FMR, pnv, praise, pet names: baby, sweetheart etc.

Summary: you spend some much needed "quality time" with Dean when he come back after being gone on a hunt

A/N: not proofread, all mistakes are my own

You had decided to stay behind for this hunt. Unfortunately you had gotten sick, so the boys had left you at the bunker to rest, while they took care of a pair of vetalas a few states over. In the week and a half that they were gone, you had slept off your cold and were back to feeling 100%.

It was nighttime when the boys finally got back. You were finishing up taking one of those self-care, pampering, clean-everything baths, when you heard the familiar rumble of the impala pulling into the garage.

You got done with your bath, dried your hair and pulled on your satin robe to go out and greet them. The kitchen was empty so you turned the corner into the War Room. You found Dean sitting at the map table reading something on his phone, cup of coffee in hand. You had gotten Dean to start trying to drink coffee instead of beer to unwind, still not the best, but it was a small victory.

Standing in the doorway, you admired him for a moment. His face was softly illuminated by the glowing table and he looked relaxed.

"Hey baby," you said softly to not startle him or disrupt the quiet of the room.

"Hey sweetheart." A small smile graced his lips at the sight of you. He set his mug down and opened his arms, motioning for you to come to him.

Straddling his lap, you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Where's Sammy?" you asked.

"Asleep, hunt went well but he's still beat. How are you feeling?". He brushed your hair back from your face, looking you over, almost as if he was searching for any signs of your ailment.

"Back to 100."

"Good; missed having you with us."

"I missed having you with me."

Leaning in, you gently pressed your lips to his. It was very rare that you and Dean were apart and it's true that absence makes the heart grow fonder. You had missed him terribly in the time he was gone, especially after your cold had worn off, you were just left bored.

He met you with equal passion, his hand coming up to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss.

You rolled your hips forward on his lap, feeling all your pent up desire rising to the surface.

"You wearing anything under this?" he asked, breaking the kiss and running his fingers down the silky collar of your robe.

"Why don't you find out?"

He kissed you again and you felt his hands untie the sash, allowing the robe to fall open. He raked his eyes over your body, confirming that you were, in fact, not wearing anything underneath.

A low rumble of appreciation from him had heat pooling in your core. He pushed the robe off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and wrapped an arm around you to lean you back so he could place kisses along your collarbone and down the line between your breasts.

"Damn you smell good." he purred.

You let out a breathy laugh. "It's that fancy body wash I have."

"Ah is that what you were doing when I got home? Was my girl taking care of herself?"

You knew what he meant, but it sounded dirty the way he said it. "Mhm," you sighed at the feeling of his lips on your throat and your fingers came up to run through his hair. "I had nothing else to do with you gone, had to keep myself entertained somehow," you said with feigned innocence.

He smirked and tilted his head to wrap his lips around one of your hardened nipples, lavishing it with his warm tongue. Soft moans fell from you, filling the air of the quiet room. His free hand that wasn't supporting your body, trailed down your side to the crease at the top of your thigh, moving ever closer to where you wanted him the most.

He ran his finger through your soaking heat. "You're dripping for me already, sweetheart."

You leaned forward to capture his lips and rolled your hips over his erection that was confined in his jeans. His head fell back, your movements eliciting a soft strangled moan from him. Pressing a little harder your hips rolled again, allowing the rough fabric to graze your swollen clit.

"Bedroom...please," you whined. You thought it was pretty hot that you were totally bare before him while he was still completely clothed, but you wanted to feel his body without any barrier between you.

He stood up from the chair taking you with him. You locked your legs around his waist as he carried you through the halls of the empty bunker, still lavishing you with kisses.

Walking into your shared bedroom, he kicked the door shut behind him and tossed you on the bed. You bounced a couple times, causing you to laugh. Dean smiled down at you before kneeling between your legs.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, looking over your naked body. No matter how many times he'd seen you he never failed to look at you like he was discovering the female anatomy for the first time. He kissed your stomach before settling down on the bed to wrap his arms around your thighs. "Missed how you taste," he said and licked a line through your folds.

Your back arched off the bed as he closed his warm mouth over you clit, sucking lightly and rolling his tongue repeatedly. Your hand went to comb through his hair, not guiding his movements, he knew plenty well what he was doing, but you needed to hold on to something.

He continued his ministrations on your clit, slowly sinking two fingers into you causing your eyes to roll in your head. His scruff rubbed against your thighs, heightening the sensation. You softly cried his name, almost begging, as he found the spot deep inside you that sent you spiraling, stroking your inner walls with the pads of his fingers. You didn't know what you were begging for, if you wanted him to continue, or fuck you.

As you got closer to falling apart, he made up your mind for you and withdrew his fingers from your throbbing cunt. He was teasing the hell out of you tonight. Whenever Dean got back from being away from you, he often took extra time in pleasuring you, almost as if he was attempting to relearn your body. He could play you like an instrument, keep you right on the edge of release and right now, this edging was making you desperate for him. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and drug him up your body, kissing him harshly, tasting yourself on his lips.

"Too many clothes," you said, tugging at his flannel.

"Ok ok," he laughed, sliding off the bed to undress.

You shimmied back on the mattress to settle against the pillows and watch him. You always enjoyed admiring him as he dressed or undressed, how his muscles moved under his freckled skin. Often, you could tell he would grow a little shy under your gaze, but would respond with a quick comment like, "enjoying the show?" or "like what you see?". You would nod and remind him how amazing he is, you never wanted him to be shy of his body.

He returned to hover over you, bracing his weight on his forearms, his hips coming down to meet yours. You could feel his erection, hot and heavy agaisnt your inner thigh. Your hips rolled, trying to convey your desire.

"Needy girl," he chided, pulling back to press a kiss to your jaw, then the side of your mouth, your cheek, down your throat.

"Dean please." You tilted your head, giving him more access. Silently asking for more.

"What do you need, baby?" he whispered in your ear.

"I just need you," you answered.

"I'm here."

You felt him notch the tip of his cock at your entrance and began to sink into your heat. He went slowly to make sure that you both felt every inch, knowing that the initial sweet stretch of him never failed to make you writh. Your back arched and your gasp mingled with his breathy moan as he buried himself fully inside you.

"God baby, you're-". The words died on his tongue, replaced with a rumbling moan.

His hand moved to cradle the back or your head as he began to move, thrusting slow and deep, desperate to have every bit of you wrapped around him. He kept his eyes on you, wanting to watch you come undone. The feel of him, around you, inside you, consuming all your senses, was almost overwhelming. And yet you couldn't get enough, hooking your legs around his waist to pull him closer, further into you.

The rhythm of his thrusts increased and you couldn't help but squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face in his neck. With each heavy breath, the scent of his cologne filled your lungs. Every stroke had you trembling, your hands roaming his body, fingers digging into his shoulders, searching for purchase to ground you to earth.

"Look at me sweetheart." His hand curled in your hair and pulled your face out of the crook of his shoulder. "I want to see you cum for me."

A broken moan left your lips and his voice made you tighten around him. You forced your eyes to open and meet his heated gaze.

"That's my girl," he praised, voice warm and heavy with lust.

He hicked your legs further up his waist, allowing him to reach even deeper inside you and moved his hand between your bodies to stroke your clit with the pad of his thumb. An electric current shot through your body as you fell apart, pulsing around him and crying his name like a prayer.

The feeling of your muscles tightening on his cock triggered his own release. Burying his face in your shoulder he spilled himself inside of you illiciting a deep groan from him.

You lied in each others arms, panting and unmoving, your bodies humming from your orgasms. Not wanting to move you decided that the mess you both made would be delt with in the morning and for now you would sleep, enjoying the afterglow.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hi!!

Can you do a Sam Winchester begging plus size reader to sit on his face. Whatever vibes you want :) Dommy Sam is always a fav but as long as Sam is reassuring and eating reader out, I’m happy :)

Thank you!!

.⋆｡Peaches and Cream｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x plus size reader

Dean made the mistake of leaving you alone with a very soulless version of your best friend who only wants one thing from you

Warnings: soulless!Sam, smut, friends to lovers?, oral (f receiving), mentions of condoms, praise, body worshipping, overstimulation, dom!Sam, almost getting caught, little bit of self-consciousness WC: 1.8k

Minors DNI

a/n: thank you all for being so patient with me, i promise i only have a couple weeks left of uni and i'm gonna come running back with some new fics!

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

His eyes burned into the back of your skull, as they had been for the past 10 minutes. And yet, you refused to look up from the book in front of you, even though you had not turned a page in that same amount of time.  You weren’t a stranger to Sam’s gaze, in fact you used to love it; the way his big puppy dog eyes trailed up your curves whenever he thought you wouldn’t notice never failed to have heat bloom across your cheeks.

But his staring was far different now.

Sam was different now.

You could hear him shift in his seat before the tell-tale sound of his boots against the cheap vinyl as he got closer. You swallowed around the lump in your throat though it did nothing to sooth the fear simmering inside you. 

“You’re not reading.” His warm breath tickled your neck. You shivered and squeezed your eyes shut. You knew what he wanted, and so badly did you wish to give it to him, like you always had but it was so wrong. His soul was gone, the very thing that made Sam Sam but it was still his body, his voice so tantalisingly close.

“Yes I am.” You bit back a whimper as Sam leaned in closer, his large hands planting themselves on the table in front of you, keeping you pinned to the spot. The tip of his nose brushed gently along your ear.

“No.” Suddenly the book was ripped from your hands and thrown across the motel room (something your Sam would never do). “You’re not.”

His lips closed around your earlobe. “Sam.” You cursed Dean in your mind, that man and his need for diner pie no matter how far out of his way he had to go to get it. “We can’t.” Fire pooled between your plump thighs, quickly soaking through your panties. 

He shifted closer, his strong arms now tightly pressed against you. He released your ear with a soft pop. “Can’t or won’t? Because I think we both know just how badly you want me, sweetheart.” You held your breath as Sam’s hands slowly moved from the table to your wide hips.

“Sam.” You tried again but this time he answered you with a deep growl.

“Say my name like that again and I promise that you won’t be walking straight for a week.” A moan escaped your lips before you could even think of stopping it. You could feel Sam’s plump lips curl into a devious smirk. 

“But-“ His grip tightened and all the doubts in your mind vanished.

“But nothing. Dean won’t be back for hours and you need to unwind and I happen to know the perfect way to do that.” 

As a last ditch attempt before your mind completely went fuzzy, you blurted out- “We don’t have condoms.”

His chuckle rumbled through your bones, sending a chill of excitement up your spine. “I’m not gonna fuck you, not today at least. I just want a little taste of this nice,” His right hand slid down the pudge of your stomach and wedged itself between your thighs, cupping you over the thick denim of your jeans, “juicy,” He nuzzled his face against your neck, “cunt.” 

“Be gentle?” You turned your head, encouraging the larger man to meet your gaze. His eyes shone with his victory.

“You want your Sammy don’t you?” He teased. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll give you exactly what you want.” And then he struck. 

His lips moulded perfectly against yours in a kiss long overdue. It was soft, almost sweet but you could feel the way he was holding back, forcing himself to relent to your wishes, even as he cupped your jaw with his other hand, deepening it. 

You whimpered against his lips and he reluctantly pulled away. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before Sam yanked you from your chair and lifted you into his arms. “Sam!” You tried to protest, but he silenced you with a kiss more determined than before. 

His tongue forced its way into your mouth as he strode to his unused bed. Your arms wound around his neck, Sam growling in approval. His knees bumped against the mattress and he fell forwards, catching himself with his right hand before he could crush you. Your pussy squeezed around nothing at the raw strength of the hunter you’d been pining for. 

You grabbed at the front of his flannel as he tugged on the hem of your jeans. Your teeth clacked together and the sound of ripping fabric filled the room. “Eager girl.” Sam groaned against your lips as you still held onto the now destroyed shirt in your grip. 

Your jeans button popped open. “Please Sam.” His long fingers grazed the wet spot on your panties and your hips bucked up, encouraging his touch to go just a little further down. He chuckled cruelly but yet he obeyed. The calloused tips of his fingers pressed into your throbbing clit, making your jaw drop with a silent moan.

He nipped at the frantic pulse along your throat, unbothered by the deep welts he was leaving behind. Your heart skipped a beat as you laid your palms onto his naked chest. “Sam.” His name was barely even a breath. 

“Good girl.” Your ruined panties were pushed to the side as his middle finger traced up your slit, gathering as much of your wetness as he could. “So wet for me. You’ve been waiting so long haven’t you.” He cooed.

You tried to pull him closer, but he wouldn’t budge, content in teasing you. “Shhh let me play a little longer and then I’ll give you what you want.” His slender hips rolled against your thigh, letting you feel the monstrous bulge of his cock where it was straining against his own jeans.

You squirmed as he finally pressed his thick fingers to your clit, just barely dousing the fire between your legs. “Please.” Your eyes burned with tears of desperation. You needed him like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

Sam tsked and in response, pulled his fingers away. You nearly cried as your relief was ripped away from you. “Now, while I do love your begging, we’re doing this my way. You need to learn.” 

He leaned back onto his heels, his ripped shirt perfectly framing his toned stomach and chest. You couldn’t look away from him, never could you have even dreamed that your best friend was this good-looking. “Jeans. Off.” 

Your hands flew down to your hips, eager to obey. Sam smirked and pulled off the tattered flannel, his eyes remained on you though, burning with lust. Your hands shook as you finally got your pants off. Your panties quickly followed after.

“What a good little slut, listening so prettily. You just want your Sammy to take care of you don’t you.” You nodded desperately.

“Please, wanna be good.” 

He grabbed your wide hips and rolled onto his back, dragging you up the length of his torso until you were straddling his wide shoulders. “Then be good for me and sit on my face.”

“But-“ He shot you a lot from between your legs and dragged you up further so you had no choice but to plant your knees on the mattress next to his head. You caught yourself on the wall behind the headboard as you tried to rock forwards and pull yourself up. 

“Do this for me, sweetheart. Lemme drown in that pussy.” His teeth sunk into the soft fat of your inner thigh. 

“But Sam, I-I don’t want to hurt you. ‘M not exactly small.” 

“Sit. I won’t repeat myself again.” Your knees wobbled but you remained upright, determined to not harm the man beneath you. “Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

His arms wound around your legs and forced you down onto his mouth. “Perfect.” He grumbled into your cunt.

“Sam!” But before you had the chance to even think of prying yourself from him, Sam’s lips sealed around your clit and it took every ounce of self-restraint you had not to court around his head and keep him right there, suckling at you, forever.

Your moans echoed through the cheap motel room, bouncing off the peeling wallpaper and soaking into the old carpeting. You couldn’t help but grind down onto his face, chasing the pleasure he had already denied you once before. Sam groaned in approval from between your legs. His tongue lapped at you, moving with a precision that had you asking yourself why you hadn't relented sooner.

“Are-are you spelling something?” He just winked at you and ducked his head down once more. Your eyebrows scrunched as you tried to concentrate on the fluid movement of his tongue against you though the blinding pleasure made it difficult.

S-A-M-U-E-L He took a breath. W-I-N-C-H-E-S-T-E-R

He was branding you, and that thought sent you catapulting to the precipice of your end. “Sam, Sam please. ‘M so close, please, please.” His right hand released your thigh and quickly slipped underneath his chin, letting his thick fingers finally breach your needy cunt. The knot in your stomach wound impossibly tighter and then just as he crooked his fingers, hitting the delicate bundle of nerves within you, Sam spelled one more word.

M-I-N-E

“Fuck fuck fuck!” You thrashed on top of him, wave after wave of euphoria washing over you, drowning you in it as Sam’s unrelenting ministrations pushed you right into another orgasm just as the first was dying down.

Your hands flew to his silky hair and tried to pry him off of you but he kept going, seemingly determined to make you pass out from the pleasure. “Too much.” Your whole body shook as your nerves lit up like fireworks.

“Oh god-“ Suddenly, the tell-tale rumble of the Impala had both you and the man you were straddling freeze. The car door squeaked and you both looked at each other. 

Sam grabbed your hips and rolled you onto your back before ripping his half-naked body from yours. You threw the covers over yourself and shut your eyes, praying that your heavy breathing wouldn’t be noticed by the other hunter. 

Just as Dean’s footsteps reached the motel room door, Sam had tugged on a new (non-ripped) flannel from his bag. Your eyes slammed shut as the door creaked open and Dean slipped inside.

There was a beat of silence. “She sleeping?” You breathed out a sigh of relief, you couldn’t imagine what he would’ve thought if he realised what was happening between his soulless little brother and you barely moments before.

“Yeah.” Sam responded in a clipped tone, a now regular occurrence with his brother. Dean hummed and you heard the sound of a plastic bag being placed on the kitchen counter.

“I got some food for us. You want any?” You could’ve melted from the genuine concern in his voice but as Sam answered, your stomach churred with embarrassment.

“I already ate.” He smirked as he wiped away the last remnants of your cum from his lips with his thumb.

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[amor-ad-nauseam]

Somethin’ stupid

Pairings: Sam Winchester X reader

Summary: You get hurt on a hunt and in taking care of you, Sam reveals a hidden talent and maybe even some hidden feelings…

Word count: 2.1k

Tags; Sam and reader have a crush on each other, fluff, no use of y/n, Sam x fem!reader, carheartt!Sam

Requests are open

part two

You never realized just how cold it got in Montana until you were here, wrapped up in Sam’s carheartt with his hands on your waist.

Well, one of his hands was on your waist, the other was digging through the pocket of his jacket for the motel room key.

“Sorry,” Sam chuckled awkwardly as his hand accidentally brushed over the small gap of exposed skin between your jeans and top.

This is definitely not what you had imagined when you envisioned his hands on you.

“It’s fine, really,” you replied with that sweet consideration he adored.

His left hand fumbles uselessly between the two of you- desperately searching for the key. He was embarrassed, beyond embarrassed. You had gotten injured-stabbed in the thigh on a hunt when he should’ve been protecting you. On top of all of that now he now has you out in the cold because he can’t find a damn key.

He eventually manages to get the key between his fingers but much to his dismay he couldn’t quite manage to pull it from the pocket due to the precarious position the two of you were in: Your left arm swung around his shoulder, his right hand on your waist and his other wedged between the two of you.

Sam was far too kind to let you slip from his grasp, no matter how many times you told him you were fine. So, you take matters into your own hands. “Here, lemme just-“

You shift your weight to your injured leg, giving him just the right amount of room to fish the key out.

His smile of triumph quickly falters once he hears your hiss of pain. He instinctively tightens his grip, reeling you back into him and closing the gap between your bodies; Sending your heart beat racing.

There’s a stillness for the moment. You staring into his eyes and he into yours. Sam couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you looked in this moment. Your normally neat, pulled back hair now wild and lovely with the cool night wind whipping through it. Your cheeks and nose were this beautiful shade of pink from the cold and all he wanted to do was reach out and cup your divine face in his hands.

“Sam,” you say, your voice just above a whisper. You never realized just how much green was in those pretty hazel eyes.

He tries to speak but not a thought -well, not a thought aside from professing his love(which he thought to be a terrible idea)- comes to mind.

Instead he blinks, searching your face for something- anything. Even a slight muscle twitch that would let him in on what you were thinking.

“The door.”

“Right,” he nods, clearing his throat and breaking the moment. He felt so stupid.

As the key turns in the lock you mentally curse yourself. Why the hell did you say that? That was the worst thing you could’ve possibly said.

He helps you limp your way into the motel room, the whole time not daring to look at you. And you do the same.

“Come on, there ya go, atta girl.” Sam grunted, gently setting you down on the bed.

Aside from your royal fuck up a minute ago, maybe this whole thing (getting stabbed included) wasn’t too bad. After all, you did get to hear sam say “atta girl” and if you were being honest, you liked it.

While Sam went to go dig out the med kit from his duffle bag you found yourself zoned out staring at his muscular frame. His hair, god it was perfect. Whose hair looks that good after spending the better half of the night in an abandoned building? It was practically witchcraft.

“Last time we let Dean pick the motel,” Sam chuckled.

“Hm?” You questioned, Sam’s voice snapping you from your train of thought.

“The whole uh, “Wild West” theme,” He smiles, gesturing to a cowboy hat hung just past his head.

“Right,” you chuckle dryly. “Definitely not letting him pick again.” You hadn’t really noticed the room; you were a bit preoccupied.

“I mean seriously,” Sam said, sitting next to you. “Where’d they get all this stuff? Cowboy furnishings?”

You giggle at Sam’s joke and lay your leg in his lap. Wine colored blood had pooled at the epicenter of the make-shift bandage (the torn sleeve of Deans FBI suit.)

The room was just large enough to comfortably accommodate two queen sized beds, separated by a thin wooden divider. On the far end of the room there was a pull-out couch with a cowboy hat pattern dancing across the leather; that same pattern reflected on the small sofa chair across from the head of your bed.

“Wild West express?” You reply while looking around the room- not wanting to lay eyes on that nasty wound. Sam chuckled and you somehow find yourself right back where you started- staring straight at him. God, he was a sight for sore eyes. His smile was enchanting.

The room had this homely atmosphere, whether that was due to Sam’s presence or the warm lighting was a mystery to you. The lights seemed to perfectly reflect on his face, illuminating those stunning hazel eyes and giving his skin a warm honey glow.

While Sam worked on disinfecting your wound he replayed the scene over and over again in his head. You were right there, mere feet from him and yet you still got hurt. Sure you’ve been banged up worse, not to mention the other bruises all three of you sustained on this hunt alone. But this time, this time was different. You’d need stitches, the stab was a few inches deep and wide with jagged edges. He cringes as he threads the needle. This was his fault.

His eyes snap to your face after the first nonevent of the needle through your skin. Your jaw was clenched tight, eyes large and pointed toward the ceiling, attempting to breathe through the pain. Guilt fills him at the very sight.

“Should’ve drank.” You grunt out, your hand balling into a fist as your eyes squeeze as tight as a camera shutter. Your head falls forward, your wind-whipped hair forming a curtain over the sides of your face. Even in pain, somehow, Sam thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen all wrapped up in a brown carheartt.

“Almost done.” He says gently, tying a knot and cutting the thread.

You let out a hefty breath, throwing your head back against the bed frame and sinking into the mattress with relief.

Sam’s hand slips to the underside of your knee, gently raising it. “God-“ he breaths, the new angle allowing him a better veiw of just how bad it was. “If I was there I could’ve-“ he sighs. “I’m sorry.”

You tilt your head in a dog-like manner of confusion. “What? Sam, this isn’t your fault.”

The pain had mostly subsided, fading to a feeling of dull pressure - more uncomfortable than anything really.

“Regardless. You got hurt on my watch.”

“Sam, c’mon. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” you frowned. He was too sweet for his own good.

The both of you knew this was a losing battle. You had this conversation a dozen times over during the car ride alone.

Sam goes back to silently wrapping your thigh in gauze while you decide to let your eyes wander around the room. Eventually you land on a wooden guitar propped up against the sofa chair right across from you.

You gasp and before Sam knows it you’re on your feet foot, the roll of gauze dangling from your thigh.

“What are you-“ he calls your name in an exasperated manner. “I wasn’t-“

You spin on your heels and reveal yourself to be holding a guitar with a beaming smile on your face.

“Oh no- oh no no no no.” Sam shakes his head.

“Pleaseeeee,” you beg, giving him the most puppy-dog eyed look you can muster.

“That’s not going to work on me,” he grins. “Now c’mon, sit.” He pats the space next to him and reaches out to take your hand. “Gotta finish patchin’ you up.”

You fold your arms over your chest with smugness he knew all too well. “That’s not gonna work on me,” you replied, looking from him to the guitar.

“Dude, I haven’t played since like, college.” His hand falls limply to his lap with a sigh. “Now c’mere before you make me regret ever getting drunk around you.” Sam attempts to make his voice sound serious but fails to hide the smile on his face and the amusement in his voice.

“Oh please,” you said through laughter at his expression. He looked adorable trying to be serious. “Just one song.”

Your laughter, it was contagious. Being around you was like the best high. “No.”He laughs, and he doesn’t even know why. “Okay, okay, how bout this?” He adjusts his position a little, trying to shove down the laughter. “You let me finish bandaging you up and I’ll play one, and I mean one, song?”

“Orrrrr, you play a song and I’ll let you bandage me up.”

“You can’t be serious. y’know you run the risk of infection the longer you don’t let me wrap it?”

“Then you better get to playing guitar-boy”

You smile and simply hold out the guitar to him.

Slowly, a scheming grin spreads on his lips, his large hand grabs the guitar and your wrist in one fail swoop. He attempts to get you seated back on the bed again but you’re too quick.

“Ha! Not gonna get me that easy!”

You giggle as you slip from his grasp. He watches as you run off do this weird limp-hopping thing off into the bathroom, the unfinished gauze swinging from your leg like a pendulum.

If he really wanted, he could easily stop you but he was more interested in seeing where this would go.

A few years ago, while Dean was off flirting with the bartender, you and Sam were in the back of the bar like a couple of wall flowers.

That’s the night you started to look at him differently, to feel things for him differently. That’s the night you started to like him; and it only grew from there. Admittedly, you both had a bit too much to drink. You told each other things nobody else knew. During the conversation he talked about his college days; how he smoked weed a few times (you couldn’t stop laughing at this) and played guitar like a proper hippie. (This also, much to his dismay, made you erupt into drunken laughter).

“You alright in there?” Sam calls from the room.

“Y-yeah! I’m good.” You shout back. You quickly tie off the end of the bandage and waltz back into the room only to discover Sam in the sofa chair, guitar in his lap.

You press your hand to your chest and make a show of having an aghast expression. “Is that what I think it is? Sam Winchester! Strumming the guitar?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m just tuning it is all.”

“Uh huh,” you reply, packing up the first aid kit.

Sam’s fingers work the strings of the guitar, playing around with a few notes here and there, tuning, plucking strings. But at the playing of a few specific chords, your ears perk up in recognition.

You immediately race limp-jog? Over to the bed and perch yourself upon the edge. Sam smiles at your eager face.

“I figured one of us outta hold up our end of the deal.”

You just smile and shake your head.

And there you were. Staring into Sam’s eyes, doing a mixture of humming and singing along while he played your favorite song on guitar.

“…hmm hm hm… we pop into a quiet place and have a drink or two…”

He would hum and sing along with you, a slight hesitation every time the main part of the chorus would appear.

“…But then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like-“

As if the lyric held far too much weight to sing.

“I love you…”

Eventually, you began to drift off. Sinatra always put you to sleep. He knew that. Sam’s eyes don’t leave you for a moment. You were reveire incarnate. Half asleep, head on a pillow and lazily humming along.

“…But then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like…”

Your chest slowly rose and fell with every soft slumbering breath. Warm lighting over your skin. Tranquil and mesmerizing as a sunset.

The lyrics come out a statement more than anything else. A truthful, unsung whisper.

“I love you.”

[targaryenluvs]

LITTLE OLD ME? / SAM WINCHESTER

PAIRINGS: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: With the prospect of leaving you to find his father, Sam finds himself running out of time to tell you just how much you mean to him. But do you feel the same? And who’ll confess first?

WORDCOUNT: 2.6K Words

WARNINGS: Pining, jealousy, clueless Sam, teasing, confessions, angst, fluff, kisses, dual pov, arguments, THESE KIDS ARE CLUELESS!!! Lazy writing from me so I used the script

A/N: Set in season one! He’s too cute, he’s so cute I might just faint 😫 I’ll have some dark Sam soon don’t worry I always balance the scales 😋 Me… writing fluff?? unheard of! No Jess slander here too she’s your friend :P italics = flashbacks/thoughts/exaggerations HAHAH I ACCIDENTALLY ADDED MY NAME IN IM GOING TO KMS I’ve changed it now 🤣

AO3 Link

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

Sam had first met you at a party.

A friend of his had dragged him along, claiming that the College experience was not just about studying. Sam didn’t want to be there, but he also didn’t want to disappoint him.

He ended up letting his friend disperse, interacting with the people he knew. Sam knew no one at this party, it consisted of another schools students and a few familiar faces. He nodded at a few but found himself standing in a corner and trying to choose which assignment he was going to finish off when he got to his place.

Which is when he saw you, with one of the biggest smiles on your faces. And Sam couldn’t help but smile along with you. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know what on Earth was so funny, he wanted to smile because you were. It seemed like everyone circled you.

Your friend had noticed him staring your way about a minute ago, but didn’t want to be wrong. So she kept moving you around and dragging you to new people. Lo and behold, his eyes followed. Based on her check, he seemed sweet. He didn’t stare at your ass or your chest, just your face. He laughed and smiled when you did.

He seemed to admiring, and she liked it. Sam’s friend, Mason, returned to the room with a girl on his arm. She watched as Sam side hugged him once he returned.

Mutual friend? Check!

“If you drag me anywhere else my arm is going to fall off Jess!” The party seemingly faded away as you made eye contact with him, god was he cute. His gorgeous brown eyes and hair were more than enough to render you tongue-tied. Sam looked like a deer in headlights as he stared at you, why were you in front of him?

Had he been staring too long?

“Mace! There you are.” The two of them exchanged pleasantries, “Oh, this is my friend Y/n. Mason, Y/n.” Mason reached his hand out to you as you smiled at him. Sam found himself holding his breath, your smile is even bigger now.

He wanted you to smile his way, “This here is Sam! Sam, Y/n.” Jess and Mason shared the same idea as the three others watched as you smiled, “It’s nice to meet you Sam, you can just call me Y/n/n.” He snapped out of his daze and shook your hand, hoping it wasn’t sweaty.

“Sam, I’m Sam. You know that, Mason told you. But uh, you can call me Sammy.” Masons eyebrows furrowed at the notion, he never called him Sammy. The girl on his arm tugged, “Let’s let these two get, acquainted.”

And that you did.

For the rest of the night, you may not have had as much to drink as the others, but you had one of the best nights of your life. You started off in the corner of the room, slowly getting to know eachother. The night led you outside, thumping music and shouts drowned out by the others presence.

Then somehow you ended up heading out for Ice Cream and then at the park. Sitting on swings and laughing at his awful jokes, you’d never felt more care-free. The night was full, and you were thankful.

He shone, if that made sense. Sam was a shot of espresso, and you were an addict. As cheesy as it sounds, you found him to bring color into your life. Your life wasn’t dreary and depressing, but it was boring. You found yourself going from class to your bed, the library, or working.

You had friends, yes, but not too many you could actually rely on if need be. That you trusted. And within one night, you found yourself pushing Sam to the top of that list.

Sam liked you from the get go, how could he not? With your infectious laughter and smile, kind eyes and understanding self. And you listened, with your whole body. You digested everything you heard and were full of empathy. He needed someone like you.

You’d been best friends since then, your first year of college. Best friends and undeniably in love with eachother. Not that the two of you ever noticed. It infuriated Jess and Mason to no end. The two of them saw it, every time you all hung out. The way Sam clung onto everything you said, as if it was Gospel.

The way your eyes practically glistened when he spoke or smiled. You looked up to eachother with so much emotion it hurt the soul. And the second the other was approached? All bets were off.

No man or woman in their mind continued to pursue you once they caught a glimpse of the huge, 6’5 giant behind you. Sometimes they’d keep going, but then he’d come up behind you with some stupid excuse to get you to go back to the table. And that person was left face to face with Sam and his unsettling smile, “You waiting for something?” A quick shake of the head and they were gone.

But it didn’t matter, whether or not you got together or not. You had eachothers backs at the end of the day, no matter what was going on. Even if you were fighting.

The night Sam’s life changed, you were drunk.

The two of you had an argument earlier on.

You ran your fingers through your hair as Sam followed you through the hallway of the apartment building, “Stop walking away from me!” You stopped in your tracks and turned to him, “Stop telling me what to do!”

“I’m not telling you what to do, I’m trying to keep you safe Y/n/n.” His voice was softer now, and it pissed you off. How on Earth were you supposed to be angry with him when he looked like that. And then the eyes? Ugh!

“It seems like you’re always babying me Sam! I can go out with who I want to.” He sighed, taking a step closer he held onto your hands, “I’m not babying you, again, I just want to keep you safe.” You pursed your lips before crossing your arms, “What’s wrong with Ben?”

He’s a vampire.

“Y/n, please.” He was pleading, but you didn’t care.

“No! I never get a clear answer from you. Why don’t you want me to go out with him?” Your voice quivered as you waited for his response. You noticed his jaw clench, you could tell he was keeping his answer under wraps.

Is it because you like me?

“I- I-,” The words wouldn’t form in his mouth and he couldn’t find a decent answer.

“Good one Sam. I’m leaving.”

He watched as you entered the elevator, guilty eyes unwilling to meet his. He sighed as his head hung low, hands stuffed into his pockets.

Sam had been invited to go out that night, he turned it down. Jess had let him know which club the two of you had gone to, and kept him updated on whereabouts. If you needed a ride and he was out, it would take him about thirty minutes to get to you from his party.

A lot can happen in thirty minutes.

His phone ringing drew him out of the light sleep that he’d fallen under, “Hello?” The sleep in his voice was evident to Jess, “Hey Sam. It’s Y/n time.” He scoffed at the term whilst chucking on a jacket and grabbing his keys, “I’ll be there in 10.”

You hadn’t wanted to see Sam, which was what you’d told Jess, repeatedly. Even if it was most definitely not true. Sam and Jess had successfully stuffed your unconscious self into your car, you’d had Jess pick you up after the argument.

He’d been carrying you to his bed when you’d stirred, “I’m sorry. F-for fighting with you. Ben’s a bitch.” Sam laughed at your crude language as he laid you down on the your side of the bed. You’d claimed it the second he’d invited you over to his new place. “Glad to hear it Y/n/‘.” Sam settled on his knees, removing your heels.

“Sweetheart?” Hair fell in front of your face as you turned to face him, “Mhm?” He moved it behind your ear, “You okay if I change you?” A half-assed thumbs up and a lopsided smile was all you could muster. He knew you wouldn’t mind anyways. You’d told him on multiple occasions that you’d murder him if he let you sleep in your makeup too.

“Could you ever be friends with me if I always had run down make up slobbered over me all the time?” You both sat in front of the TV, chowing down on pizza. “I thought that was your usual look?” The pillow you threw his way had begun a pillow war.

He removed your dress before picking out a shirt of yours and boxers. Since it was your favourite combo. Sam smiled at the notion of you practically swamped by his clothes. Using the makeup wipes you had stashed in the bathroom, he gently cleaned your face before settling in for the night. You quickly turned over to bury into the side of your personal furnace.

Sam’s eyes shot open at the sound, it was darker than before, later in the night. You being settled into his side checked off the possibility of you rattling around in the kitchen for a midnight snack. Quickly checking it out he was met with his brother Dean after a tussle.

“Whoa, easy, tiger.” Sam glared at Dean whilst trying to catch his breath, “Dean?” He laughed at Sam, “You scared the crap outta me!” Dean grinned, “That's 'cause you're out of practice.”

Whether he was offended or annoyed, Sam took the opportunity. He grabbed Dean’s hand and managed to turn him and they ended up on the floor.

Dean groaned, “Or not.” Dean tapped him twice where Sam was holding him. “Get off of me.” A small smile came across the youngest Winchester’s face as he rolled to his feet and pulled Dean up.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Brushing himself off he straightened up, “Well, I was looking for a beer.”

Dean placed his hands on Sam’s shoulders, shaking once, and letting go. Sam was understandably confused, “What the hell are you doing here?” The elder of the two relented, “Okay. All right. We gotta talk.”

“Uh, the phone?” Sam crossed his arms as Dean rolled his eyes, “If I'd'a called, would you have picked up?”

Fair point.

The murmurs and bumps were more than enough to wake you up. You made your way to the source before turning the light on. Cursing whatever Sam chose for you to wear, it was cold.

“Sammy?” Your voice was like honey to the two of them, Dean couldn’t help but look at you appreciatively whilst clocking onto the fact that you called him Sammy. The boxers, the bare legs and the cute tired look on your face.

Sam and Dean turned their heads in unison to the sweet voice, “Y/n/n. Hey. Dean, this is my gir— friend. Uh, best friend. Y/n.” Sam cringed internally at his words.

Your face was painted in confusion as your brain finally processed his words, “Wait, your brother Dean?”

You smiled as Sam nodded, you’d always wanted to meet him. Dean grinned at you and moved closer.

“Oh, I love the Smurfs. You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league.” You stuttered at the prospect of being Sam’s girlfriend. But you weren’t in the mood to deny it unless he did.

“I—, we aren’t— ,” By a glimpse you could see Sam’s eyes staring straight into Dean’s head, “Alright, why don’t you back up a little Dean?” Sam spoke as Dean laughed, “Just let me put something on.” As you turned to go a voice stops you.

“No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously. Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business. But, uh, nice meeting you.” You smiled at him, “Nice to meet you too Dean.”

“No.” Sam goes over to Y/n and put his arm around her, “No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her. She’s my best friend.” That’s how you two were, touch was never weird for you two. It’s why you were always mistaken for a couple.

Dean sighs, “Okay.” He turns to look at them both straight on, “Um, Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.” Sam nodded along, “So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later.”

Dean ducked his head and looked back up at the couple in front of him.

“Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

Sam expression didn’t change as he nods along. Y/n glanced up at him with a frown, “You never told me your Dad still hunts.” Sam’s lips pressed into a tight smile, “Y/n/n, excuse us. We have to go outside.” You nodded at him, “Can I borrow you, really quickly?”

Dean nodded as Sam smiled, “Of course.” Sitting down on the bed as Sam sat next to you, “If your dad’s missing then are you going to go look for him?” He didn’t know yet, he didn’t even know the whole story yet. “It depends I guess. Where he last was and what Dean tells me.”

“But what about Monday?” Sam couldn’t help but smile, of course you were worried about things that weren’t yours. “I’ll be back in time, I swear Y/n/n.”

He glanced over at you, your hands were in your lap as you smiled, “I know you haven’t told me what your dad hunts. But, I’ve seen your old diary.” His eyes immediately widened, “Y/n—,”

“I believe it, don’t worry. How can I not? I’ve watched my fair share of horror films and Buffy. Plus, my mum always used to tell me to keep an open mind to everything.” Sam had to take a second to grasp everything that had tumbled out from between your lips, “Wait— you knew?”

Your giggles were prominent, until it blew out into a laugh attack, “You should see your face! Of course I knew!” His eyebrows twisted as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I don’t— what?” You grabbed his hands and clutched onto to them, “Baby, come on. All the random facts you always have, that one time you kept talking about the inaccuracies about Vampires. And then today,”

Sam’s face looked as if it had been drained or color, “If this is about—,”

“You sent an article that morning about Vampires and how they should actually be beheaded. And then a random story about them getting close to people abnormally quick. Which is exactly what happened with Ben. I got mad at you because I couldn’t figure out why you wouldn’t just tell me.”

Sam sighed, “Well you can’t blame me for being cautious. And most people don’t handle the whole, ‘Ghosts are real’ bit that easily.”

“Well I’m not most people Sammy.”

“No, no you’re not. You’re better, you always have been Y/n.” The air in the room had apparently been drained, since you couldn’t breathe. Not with those gorgeous eyes staring down at you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“If you’re not about to kiss me I give this interaction a minus 0 out of 10.” Sam scoffed, “So you’re rating me now?” You jokingly nodded as his hand was placed on your cheek before kissing you.

And God was it worth the wait.

As you pulled away you couldn’t believe you finally had him.

“100/10.”

“What an honour.”

You couldn’t help yourself as you kissed the tip of his nose, “Anything for something as cute as you.”

“Who, little old me?”

[tofics]

15 minutes

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!fem!Reader

Song Inspo: 15 Minutes by Madison Beer

18+ only! 🚨 Mature content ahead! 🚨

Summary: For as long as you've worked with Dean Winchester, he's been the boss of you. What Dean says, goes. Even if that means that you have to sit in the car while he finishes the monster off. One day, you decide you've had enough. No more taking orders. The confrontation just goes a little different than you expected.

Word count: 6047 words

Warnings: Cursing, verbal fighting, smut

Header made by the lovely and talented @artyandink

[09:13pm]

It had taken you just ten minutes to get here. Only ten minutes, despite the rain coming down in sheets and reducing the visibility to barely two feet in front of you.

Ten hazy minutes of street lights flying past you as the rain drummed on the roof of your car and splashed across the windshield.

A reckless drive, to say the least.

Not that you remember much of it. Your thoughts had been elsewhere…

The light in front of you shifts slightly. A silhouette, barely visible through the cascades of water running down the windshield, moves across the window of the motel room you’re parked in front of.

Your fingers wrap around the leather of the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles turn white.

“Go. Go! Leave! Now!”

Dean’s order from this afternoon reverberates through your head like an echo you can’t escape and fuels your anger anew.

Fuck this.

[09:15pm]

A quick glance at the clock - two minutes have passed since you parked the car. Two minutes of pondering what the fuck you’re doing here exactly.

Have you come to yell at him?

To strike him across the face, like you wanted to, after his text messages?

Or - worse - kiss him, like you’ve wanted to for weeks?

[08:17pm] At the motel. Where are you?

[08:41pm] Call me.

[08:58pm] Answer your phone.

[09:03pm] CALL ME.

You're strongly leaning towards yelling.

You brought this case to him. You put the file together. Both of you did the research together. And then he gets to send you home for the final part? He gets to risk his life while you’re sent home like a child is sent to bed once the adult programs come on?

Who does he think he is?

Another minute passes as you sit and feel every emotion pulse through you.

[09:16pm]

Fuck. This.

Within seconds, you’re out of the car and at the door to the motel room, but whatever motion carried you over here so swiftly abruptly fades the moment you’re about to slide the key into the lock.

The sudden stop feels irritating. Your anger is pushing you forward, demanding to barge into the room and give Dean a lecture that’ll leave his ears ringing the same way his order is still ringing in yours. It’s mixing with your demand of approval and recognition, but it’s not them that’s stopping you in your tracks. Your anger is still the driving force here, overshadowing the needy aspects of your emotions.

No, there is something else at work here - something more nagging, scratching around in the back of your brain and settling heavy in your stomach. What Dean says goes. It's an unspoken rule that you have always followed down to a t, no matter how irritating or belittling his orders appear to you. He'd probably say that makes you a good partner, whereas you... you'd argue it makes you weak; a puppet, a follower and not the leader you know yourself to be. It feels shameful to be so obedient, to be such a blind follower, to be so stupidly and painfully in love with Dean Winchester that his word is your command.

But it's not just shame that's got your hand frozen on the doorknob. It's worry.

What if you don't get a chance to say your piece? To make him see you for what you really are? What's to stop him from shutting you up with a snap of his fingers, to shush you with just a word?

A new wave of anger surges through you at just the idea of it.

You will have your say tonight.

[09:18pm]

The key slides into the lock without hesitation. You stride into the motel room with the confidence of a woman on a mission, deadly and ready to kill.

The momentum leaves you the second you've scanned your surroundings. A beer bottle next to a half-eaten microwave meal, discarded and left alone on the main table. Dean's jacket strewn across one of the beds, but no boots beneath it on the ground. The TV is on, blaring non-sense into the otherwise empty room.

Where the hell is he?

Then he appears, striding out of the adjoining bathroom with the same confidence you had to talk yourself into but that just comes naturally to him. Save for the furrowed brows, it features on his face too, a mask only worn by those who know they command any room they enter.

The expression flickers only briefly when he registers you standing in the middle of the room, drenched from head to toe, visibly seething with anger.

Your appearance earns you a raised eye-brow. "Thought I told you to go home."

Oh, his tone. So matter-of-factly, so pretentious, so arrogant.

"Well, I didn't."

"I can see that."

The TV blares on in the background and you're thankful for it, hoping it conceals the sound of your heart thumping in your chest. His eyes bore into yours and you hold the gaze, unwilling to look away in submission.

"Also told you to call me."

"You tell me a lot of things."

His face remains the same, but you can see his jaw ticking. "You got something to say to me?"

You exhale loudly through your nose. "Boy, do I got something to say to you."

"By all means, go ahead." It's clear you have ticked him off, so the sarcasm shouldn't be a surprise. And it isn't really, but it's the drop that causes your barrel to overflow.

"Oh, this is exactly what I mean!" You storm forward with an accusing finger pointed at Dean's chest. "I don't need your allowance to do anything. I don't need you barking orders at me left and right like I'm your silly little sidekick!" Your finger is jabbing into his flesh, driving home each point you make with a stab into his chest.

"Are you done?"

The reaction is so emotionless, so anything-but-impressed by your words that you're dumbfounded for just a moment.

"Are you kidding me?" It took a second, but the fuse his words lit reaches your brain with a soft ping and sets you off.

"What - is - wrong - with - you!" You've upgraded from little jabs to full on shoves against his chest, each stronger than the last. His torso staggers with each shove but he makes no move to interrupt you, which somehow only infuriates you more. "Fucking fight me back! Take me seriously for once!"

One second Dean's letting you shove against him like a boxing sack, the next, his hands are around your wrists, stopping your moves mid-air.

"Is that what this is about? You think I don't take you seriously?"

You pull on your arms to free yourself of his grip, but his hold is too strong. Your anger boils in your stomach.

"Let me go," you hiss, but he makes no such move. Instead, his grip just tightens.

"Answer me," he demands and all you can do in response to let out an angry cry. You've come to give him a piece of your mind about constantly having to take his orders, and he has the nerve, the gall to give you another order during your outburst. It's the ultimate insult.

"Fuck you, Dean. Fuck. You." You fight against his grip with strength, enforcing a momentary struggle between the two of you. You're strong, but Dean's taller. He manages to spin you around so your back is pressed against is chest, caught between his arms that are pressing your own to your chest.

He's become your life-size straitjacket. The embodiment of his demeanor - not only enforcing his will through words, but with his body too.

You hate him in this moment.

You hate that he has overpowered you, outpowered you like his words already do so much of the time.

But most of all, you hate how good it feels to be pressed so tightly against him.

His chest is pushing against you with each heavy breath he takes. The longer you're locked in his arms, the more his scent engulfs you, a mix of Baby's leather, his cologne and a faint hint of his very own smell, full of his deadly pheromones.

I need to get out of here.

"You gonna tell me what's going on now?" Dean's voice is raspy in your ear, a little strained from the effort to keep you locked in his forced embrace, but still carrying the same unchanged undertone: do as I say.

You whine and push against his arms, yearning to break free so you can get away from him as far as possible, anywhere, just not this close where his voice is right in your ear and his scent is seeping you into your nose, luring you in with every breath you take.

"Hey. Hey!" Dean spins you around and pins you in place with his large hands wrapped around your upper arms. "You think I don't take you seriously?" He's staring you down and you're torn. His face is so close that you can see every detail up-close, every freckle and every single shade of green in his gorgeous, gorgeous eyes. You want to look away, need to look away so you don't lose yourself in them, but you can't if you want to stand your ground.

"I don't think so, I know so," you push out between gritted teeth.

"The hell gave you that idea?" The concept genuinely seems to baffle him, so much so that he releases his grip on your shoulders. You stagger momentarly from the loss of force on your body, then immediately mourn the loss of his touch.

"What do you mean, 'what gave me the idea'? Are you serious? Like you don't boss me around left and right with no concern for my input or my abilities. I'm not your equal, not in your eyes!" Your voice is rising to a shout as you finally give room to the words you've harbored for so long. "I'm not even your sidekick, I'm an assistant at best! Need a new case? That's fine, take mine, but god forbid I'm there for the finale! Nooo, Dean Winchester gets to reap the rewards, not me, who did all the work with you, Dean, for you! I am nothing to you, nothing!"

Generic laughter sounds from the TV, filling the thick silence between you while you catch your breath. Dean cocks his head to the side, his jaw ever-ticking.

"Is that what you think?" His voice is suddenly so low that you can barely hear him over the TV. "You think I don't care?"

You want to reply, but then he laughs and your words get stuck in your throat.

"Sweetheart, I wish I didn't care." He runs a hand over his mouth. "I wish I didn't care so I wouldn't be worried out of my mind every time we went on a hunt. I wish I didn't care so I wouldn't have to worry about you getting hurt, or worse, killed, every single time we face a new monster."

You try to follow him, but your mind gets stuck on the pet name. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart.

"You got a problem with me giving you orders? You're mad you didn't get to kill the big bad wolf by yourself? Well guess what, sweetheart." Dean closes the space that you've temporarily put between him and you. "I don't care about any of that."

You're ripped out of your hypnosis by the immediate sting of his words. Involuntary tears spring to your eyes and you try to fight them back down, unwilling to let him see how much it pains you to be right. "Fucking knew it-," you start, your voice thick and laced with pain, but he stops you.

"Oh, I'm not finished. I don't care if giving you orders pisses you off. I don't care if following my orders means that you get to live. That's what I care about. Hate me all you want, but don't you ever think for a second that I don't care about you. You mean 'nothing' to me? You mean everything to me."

You mean everything to me.

Everything to me.

Everything.

The words echo in your head, one by one, until only one remains. Everything.

You blink at Dean.

Everything.

Even if you're dubious of the words, there is something in his eyes that you've never ever seen on Dean before. His brows are furrowed in that very familiar expression of anger, the type that regularly settles on his face when you refuse to listen, but there is something else underneath it all, softer and hesitant and shy-

It takes a moment, but you finally register it for what it is.

Vulnerability.

Fuck.

What you read as a sense of arrogance had been something else entirely all along? All his orders, every single command he's given you - they came from a place of love, not of condescension?

The weight of this revelation hangs heavy in the room as you blink feverishly, trying to make sense of it.

You mean everything to me.

Everything to me.

Everything.

The echo is like a starting shot that fires through your brain. Your legs move before you're even aware of it, carried forward by instinct rather than thought. One moment you're opposite Dean in a mouthy stand-off, the next you're on your tiptoes and your lips press against his in a hungry, starving fashion.

Whatever surprise you feel about your own boldness is quickly replaced by the astonishing speed at which Dean adjusts to the invasion of his personal space. You attribute some of it to his years of training, but a part of you wonders if his quick response has anything to do with how you mean everything to him.

Has he dreamt of this as long as you have?

Dean doesn't grant you a lot of time to ponder the question. His hands make sure that your brain is preoccupied with tracking their placement on your body, a task that's easier said than done as they move over your back and slide over your hips, skillfully testing your curves and luscious hills before getting tangled in your damp hair and cupping your face.

You know the feeling. You've felt it in his presence before numerous times, though the circumstances could not have been more different. Dean's hands on your body are new, but the adrenaline pumping through you isn't, nor is the sensation of being on high-alert and tracking every single sensation that you can register. All of your senses are working at high speed, clocking every touch, every sound that your touch on his body elicits.

Instead of relying on every piece of information to stay alive, you are devouring every sensation with a hunger you didn't know you were capable of. Every moment, every placement of his hands on your body, every movement of his lips against yours has to be clocked and noted down. You're eating it all up in a desperate attempt to commit all of it to memory at once, no matter how many braincells you fry in the process.

For reasons you cannot think of in this moment, your vigor is not only matched but challenged by Dean. The kiss is a pornographic rendition of your interactions on a hunt: Dean's insistence to lead and your feeble attempts to take point. Even though you were the one to kiss him, there's a neediness on both ends as the two of you seem to struggle for more of the other, more lips, more skin, more more more.

Your wet clothing is leaving stains on his, but he doesn't seem to mind or even notice. "You're everything to me," he repeats in a murmur in the rare instance that his mouth break from yours. You can feel his lips move against your cheek as he speaks. A kiss is planted in the same spot, then another on your cheekbone, on your jawline, your earlobe, and then that special place just below where the ear meets the neck that gives you goosebumps.

"How could I ever let something happen to you?" Dean expertly works his way from your neck down to the low cut of your shirt and you're unable to respond, rendered mute by the sensation of his lips and tongue travelling over your collarbone and marking their passage as they go. His kisses are sloppy and yet precise, saliva mixing with the beads of water dripping from your hair onto your chest. He licks them up where he encounters them, hot wet strips up your skin that burn with fiery want even long after his tongue has moved on another place.

Dean's touches feel like heaven. They cloud your mind and haze your thoughts until there's barely anything sensible left in your head for you to hold on. What you feel most is a desperate want, a heavy need for him, for Dean to be touching you, to be on you, to be inside of you.

And yet, persistent as an infestation of cockroaches, a shred of defiance remains in the back of your mind, demanding to be heard.

I want to have my say, it pouts and stomps with its foot like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum.

And have your say you will.

"Stop," you breathe out and pull away what little you can while encased in Dean's arms.

It shouldn't delight you how quickly he freezes up before you, how fast he follows your plea command. You know Dean can be overbearing and bossy, a pompous and pretentious asshole for a leader who barks orders without offering explanations, but he's never once been anything but a gentleman when it comes to boundaries regarding your personal space.

Dean is a lot of things, but he's not a grabby asshole. Just a bossy one.

"What did I do? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?" The immediate concern is evident both on his face and in his voice and you feel like you might scream. No, you didn't, my god, you didn't, keep on doing what you did, your heart seems to be saying, cheered on by the pool of warmth between your legs, but the remaining shred of defiance isn't having any of it.

"I- no, no you didn't, it's just-," you start and break off again. Words are racing through your head at lightning speed, forming half-sentences that barely make sense before being replaced immediately.

I want you to listen to me-

Want you to hear me-

To validate me as a hunter-

I want you to fuck me, right here, right now.

You're at war with yourself and your mouth can't keep up with the speed at which your thoughts firing.

See me, hear me, validate me.

Do to my body whatever you want.

"Hey, talk to me." Dean's voice is gentle, just like the hand he places on your cheek, but your jaw clenches regardless. Another order. You tense up under his touch and see his brows furrow in concern, the lines on his forehead deepening. His eyes seek out yours and finally, you see something in them you haven't seen before. They speak before his mouth does: Please.

"Please," he repeats and you melt right there and then.

Finally, the single word that turns his command into a plea.

Somehow, that's all it takes.

"Fucking finally," you breathe out before you throw yourself at him with renewed vigor. You wrap your hands around his neck and pull him a little closer in an effort to reinforce what you're trying to wordlessly say with way of your lips: touch me, kiss me, take me, make me yours.

God or not, Dean answers your prayers. Your shirt is the first to go, peeled off of your damp skin hastily and chucked aside. His flannel and t-shirt soon follow by your hands and a growl escapes your throat when his bare chest is exposed to you. You've seen Dean topless before (though not often enough in your opinion) but you've never been this close to it, your face just mere inches from where his anti-possession tattoo blooms on his chest. His scent wafts over to you as he moves against you and you can't help but sink your teeth into his skin, a puny attempt at devouring him whole so that he may stay with you forever.

You latch onto his skin and the ground underneath your feet disappears. You yelp into his chest when Dean picks you up with surprising ease and walks the two of you over to his bed, never once stopping the shower of kisses on any spot of you that he can reach. He lays you down so gently that he seems afraid he might break you if he handled you too roughly, but then his body presses you into the mattress as he lays on top of you and kisses you with a feverish intensity that is anything but gentle.

Where to place your hands first? His back, his neck, his biceps, his stomach? Or bury them in his hair instead? The choices are overwhelming and equally tempting, so you don't decide but go for all of them. You simply can't get enough of him, of touching Dean the way you've dreamt of for so long, silently and secretly at night where you couldn't be caught; but now he's here, his warm skin flush against yours, and it's exhilarating.

"My god, look at you," Dean groans, his head level with your chest. "You're gorgeous." His hands cup around your luscious breasts with a gentle squeeze while he looks on in admiration and you feel some color rushing to your cheeks. Dean's not exactly shy to hand out a compliment, but it's never been anything as explicit as this before.

"Could never let anything happen to you," he mumbles into your skin between nibbles down your belly. His hands accompany his mouth, softly kneading the pads of flesh in wake of his kisses. Were the circumstances different, were it anyone else besides Dean - the attention of detail to your belly would have sent you into a frenzy already, self-consciousness kicking in and overriding any bit of joy you could derive from the activity. But it's not a random bar hook up that's leaving love-bites on your soft hills and curves, it's not a stranger that's kneading your flesh with a hungry and appreciative appetite in his eyes. It's Dean, peppering you with kisses all over, not missing a single inch of your torso and squeezing you so affectionately in any place that he can get a hold of that you don't even consider once whether or not he enjoys what is being served to him.

There is no question that Dean is enjoying his meal to the fullest, and from the hunger in his eyes, it looks like he hasn't even gotten to the main course yet.

You buck your hips up towards him when his mouth nears the waistband of your jeans, keen with anticipation, but then his mouth trails back up towards your bust again. "Not done yet," you hear him mumble and feel his lips stretch into a grin across your skin when you whine in frustration. "Patience, sweetheart, patience."

Patience my ass, you think, but slightly arch your back so he can unclasp your bra regardless. Something of a choking sound falls from Dean's lips when your tits fall free. "My god," he breathes out and there's the same shine in his eyes that he gets when pie is placed in front of him. "Do you even know how beautiful you are?"

He doesn't wait for you to respond and you're not sure you could anyway. Dean just had another appetizer served and he is hungry. His lips dip down and encase the sensitive bud with the precision and determination. A moan escapes you when his tongue starts to swirl around until your nipple stands rock hard. You blindly feel for him, aiming for his hair to pull him up to you for another kiss, but he catches your hands before they can latch on and gently traps your wrists in a bracelet of his own hands, pressing soft kisses to your palms before returning his attention to your remaining nipple.

You squirm underneath Dean, moaning and whining while trapped in his literal hand-cuffs as he feathers strokes of his tongue over your other nub.

"Dean, please," you whine, unsure of what exactly it is you're asking for. All you know is that you want more, that you need more. "Please."

Dean hums against your skin in acknowledgement. "I hear you, baby, I do."

He makes quick work of your pants, a true feat considering the way jeans cling to wet skin. Perhaps the jeans temporarily forgot that it was wet under Dean's touch. You couldn't blame it, the way he expertly peels the thick wet garment off you like it's nothing. He unearths your damp and shivering legs in the same way one might peel skin off a delicious fruit. The wet piece drops to the floor in a soft thud, forgotten the moment the last bit of fabric leaves your skin.

How can a man who fights and kills with such brute strength touch you with the softness of a feather?

The pads of Dean's fingers stroke up your legs, over your shins and up to your knees where they suddenly dig into your skin, and appreciative grip on your thighs. You're by no means small, but Dean's large hands still somehow fill the width of your thighs. It's an intoxicating scene, his hands spread out on your thighs, so close to your heated core; something akin to a painting you wish you could frame and hang on your wall.

"Hey." You involuntarily peel your eyes from his hands at the beckoning of his voice. "Are you sure?"

You tug on his waistband in lieu of an answer, motioning for him to scoot upwards. You can sense his hesitation in the cautious way he crawls towards you, his eyes still searching your eyes for what your mouth won't say. You don't leave him guessing long, though. One hand travels down his torso towards the bulge in his pants. Dean's breath stutters and his eyes flutter shut as you rub your hand over his erection. He shudders against your touch while he hovers over you, visibly straining to stay atop. "You don't gotta-" His voice breaks off into a groan when you start moving your hand mid-sentence. Dean's head falls towards your chest with closed eyes and his body shudders again, resulting in a smug grin on your face.

This is your doing.

And though Dean is clearly enjoying your touch on his groin, it's not enough. You need more, more of him.

Your hands make quick work of his belt buckle, working with the same experience and quick fingers that can quickly dismantle a gun and put it back together. When your hand slips into his boxers, you both gasp.

He's big.

Your fingers form a ring around his cock and you begin to Dean jerk off, slowly and attentively, watching his face for a reaction of what he likes and adjusting your grip and speed accordingly. It's mesmerizing, the way it only takes your hand to draw sounds from Dean's lips you've never heard from him before, but have dreamt of countless times. One of his hand snakes into your hair while his face sinks into the crook of your neck. You feel his labored breath against your skin and the sharp pull on your scalp where his fingers have clenched into a fist in your hair. "Fuck, sweetheart," he whispers and you feel yourself leaking into your panties with excitement.

So many days you brooded over Dean's bossy demeanor. So many times you sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, fuming and stewing in your own anger while you waited for him to finish off another monster, shunned to the car and ordered to wait until he'd done the deed. You swallowed so many orders and commands, but now, you're the one in charge.

You have your hand wrapped around Dean's cock and you can't help but feel like you've won.

"Hold on, please," he croaks into your neck, his voice deliciously raspy and needy.

'Please', he said.

Something in your tummy pulls. Dean is asking you, not ordering you.

"Please," he repeats again and your hand stills in his boxers. You turn your head to find his eyes. "You gotta stop, or it's over before it's even begun," he says and the smug smile only spreads further on your face.

You have your hand wrapped around Dean's cock, and you're making him feel so good that he might come if you don't stop.

'Pride' does not begin to cover the emotion you feel in this moment.

His lips seek out yours and he pulls you into a kiss that has a different flavor than those that came before. The passion hasn't changed, but the core has, going from needy to more sensual. His hands run a new course over your body as his tongue dances with yours, and before long, you can guess their destination.

Dean is seeking out the heat between your legs. He first runs a single, gentle finger over the damp cloth between your thighs. There's no question that though the rain properly soaked you, the dampness between your legs has nothing to do with the downpour outside and everything to do with the large man on top of you.

He groans slightly when he feels how soaked you already are. "So wet already, sweetheart? Just for me?" The words are mumbled against the sensitive spot on your neck. The skin tingles where his lips make contact and a shiver of goosebumps runs down your body, causing you to shudder slightly against his touch. His finger slides over your clothed folds again, dipping between them ever so slightly but enough for you to feel the friction directly against your clit. A breath hitches in your throat and the grip on his cock tightens involuntarily.

He's barely touched you (down there) and you already feel like you're about to lose your marbles.

In true fashion to the competitive nature of your relationship, the next few minutes are a competition of who can make the other one break first. Dean slides a finger under the fabric that separates him from your core and begins to softly move it up and down your folds; meanwhile you resume your work in his boxers. Moans fill the room as both of you pleasure the other one with nothing more than your hands.

You fight to focus through the hazy pleasure that fills your head more and more as Dean draws tiny circles over your most sensitive spot. The longer his soft pad presses against your sensitive flesh in a circular motion, the more you find your hips arching upwards toward him, silently begging for more friction. It's both a blessing and a curse how good it feels to have his hand between your legs and you find yourself trapped by your own need for dominance - give or receive?

But then Dean's hips buck against your grip in his pants and you are spurned on even more, determined to make him come before you do.

Your resolve lasts for all but sixty seconds when Dean decides that enough is enough and he needs more of you, and he needs it now. The finger that toyed with your clit slides down towards your entry, easy and swiftly through your slick that by now has bled through the fabric of your panties and dampened the mattress. Dean reaches his destination and probes your fluttery hole with just the tip of his finger, sliding in with the same ease as pushing into cotton candy, and both you and him moan simultaneously. "So wet, so soft," he whispers and you whine, your grip on his cock feeling like the only thing that's anchoring to this world.

It's just the tip, but now that it's there, you need more, now, this very second. Your hips move on their own accord in an attempt to push down on his finger and Dean accepts your request without hesitation. His long digit slowly drives into you and you arch your back in response, your mind clouding over as he claims you for the first time.

"Fuck, Dean," you whine, the last words you're able to form before he pulls out and gently repeats the intrusion into your wet and heated core. The second he takes on a steady pace you're lost to the sensation.

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as Dean slides in and out of you, the steady motion creating a delicious friction in your aching center that both helps and adds to the tension that's building in your core. "My god, you're beautiful, you're so beautiful," you hear him whisper into your ear and you're unable to respond, caught in a trance brought on by his finger inside of you.

You don't even notice your grip loosening in his pants. Your arm is still moving absent-mindedly, pulling your ring of fingers up and down his shaft, but your movements stutter, impacted by Dean's digit that's working in and out of you.

His winning strike comes in the form of a second finger, gently pushing into you alongside the one that's already made himself at home inside of you. You feel the stretch of a second digit widening you and then gasp in ecstasy when not one, but two fingers curl deep inside of you and brush over the spot that makes you see stars.

It's over from thereon out. After seeing your reaction, Dean repeats the curling maneuver inside of you with an intensity and determination you only see from him when you're chasing a monster, except he's chasing your release now, and he seems dead-set on it. He mumbles praises into your ear while he works into you, the pads of his fingers relentlessly brushing over that same spot deep inside of you that you begin to thrash underneath him, unable to stay still while the coil in your belly tightens.

You were foolish to think that you could win against him, you now realize. You are putty in Dean's hands, ready to be molded into whatever he wants you to be. His orders are your command, what he says, goes.

"Come for me, sweetheart, come for me." It's as much as a request as it is an order.

How could the clay ever disobey its masters hands?

Dean's fingers work against the soft spot inside of you relentlessly and all you can do is hang on to him by digging a fist into his hair. Your back is arched, pushing your mound into his hand, deepening the friction he's providing as you push against him rhythmically. It doesn't take long for you to follow your orders.

One more curl of his fingers, one more pads of fingers brushing over your spot, and you're sent over the edge, legs quivering and shaking as the orgasm overtakes you and washes over you. You moan into Dean's ear, helpless as you're falling apart, but feeling perfectly safe at the same time.

Dean works you through your orgasm with the same intentional help he offers to you whenever else you are in need. His movements slow in unison with your body coming down from its high, but the kisses on your neck and collarbone never cease.

"You did so good, sweetheart. So good."

The praise goes down like warm honey. You drink it up like you're a woman dying of thirst and you realize that you can both win and lose at the same time.

Dean may be your boss, but he sees you regardless. He takes point, but he hears you.

And - this, you've never been more sure of in your life - he validates you.

He just couldn't show it before.

A/N: My first time writing smut! 🙂‍↕️ Did trying to write this almost break my brain? Absolutely. Am I satisfied with the outcome? …I think so. I didn’t proof-read it, but I’ve rewritten this piece so many times that I know some passages by heart now. I absolutely would’ve gotten nowhere if it hadn’t been for @artyandink’s tips and support throughout this. For that, I thank you my friend. I also have to give credit where credit is due and mention @zepskies because she’s the first writer I noticed specifically including plus-sized!readers in her fics. As a rather heavy set girl myself, I appreciated that so much! I tried to include appreciation for us heavier girls in this fic and I hope I did alright. That goes for the entire thing - writing smut was unbelievably daunting so if you have any feedback at all, please please please let me know. Criticism is appreciated too! - Alright, enough babbling. I hope you enjoyed my first attempt at smut! 🫶🏼

Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way. I'm always happy to practice my writing! :)

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Being a girl is pt.2: deciding you’ve read enough fics for the moment and swiping out of the app just to re-open tumblr or open wattpad/ao3

[mxltifxnd0m]

heaven's in your eyes യ s. winchester

summary: you and sam are in a sticky situation and there's only one way to get out of it

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem! reader

word count: 3.4K

warnings: vaguely set in season 3/4, fluff, mutual pining, slight angst, teasing from dean, sam in a tux (yes that's a warning), kissing, suggestive/spice, implied smut but no smut

a/n: i've had this one stuck in the noggin for a while and finally got around to writing it! this was heavily inspired by and based on the mall scene in captain america TWS between steve and nat and 3x6 episode with bela.

reblog and comment on the fic! I love seeing your thoughts on it sm 😊

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You never thought you'd be in this position in a million years, feeling the heat of Sam's hands seep into the fabric on your waist as he pulled you in closer, sliding his leg between yours as your back hit the wall. This is not what you had thought would happen when you decided to ask for the Winchesters' help on your hunt.

You had run into the Winchester brothers after you had "accidentally" killed the witch they had been hunting. You had no idea that the three of you were hunting the same witch, but you had gotten to her first. You had no clue that the Winchesters were in the same town as you. Your paths never crossed until they found you hunched over the witch's body, blood splattered over your face and clothes, with the living room of the witch in complete disarray.

You looked up from the dead witch to see two tall mountains dressed in leather and flannel standing in the doorway. You remembered their faces were screwed up with expressions of surprise and puzzlement as you stood up from the carpeted floor with a grin on your face.

"Seems I beat the two of you to it." You said to them, slightly out of breath, and stuck out a hand for them to shake, introducing yourself to the two men who you deduced to be hunters. You instantly noticed that they were gorgeous. They seemed to walk straight out of a GQ magazine. But the thing that gave away the fact that they were hunters was how they held themselves like soldiers (and the fact they had guns in their hands as they burst into the house like madmen).

Your eyes were drawn to the taller one of the two (they were both pretty tall, but you could have considered this one a giant). He had shaggy brown hair with bangs that you just knew that he had to brush away from his eyes frequently and a nose that, if you followed the slope of it, you could see how it came to a cute point at the end of it. What really entranced you was his hazel eyes that memorized you as soon as you made contact with them.

They introduced themselves as Dean and Sam, the latter being the one you found yourself attracted to the most as his warm hand engulfed yours as the two of you shook hands.

From then on, you guys seemed to cross paths at least once a month on a hunt. Whether it was a nest of vampires, a vengeful spirit, or a pack of werewolves, the Winchesters and you would end up in the same place and time and end up working together. There was this unspoken agreement that the three of you would work together if you so happened to be working the same hunt.

During these hunts, you found yourself pining over Sam Winchester. You didn't know how it happened at first (okay, you do know how it happened, but you didn't want to admit anything at first), but you noticed how kind and sweet Sam was. Sam's empathy and positivity were a stark contrast to the bleakness you were used to as you worked on hunts, but it was a breath of fresh air for you.

It didn't help that the two of you got along like a house on fire. You met someone who could understand your weird niche literary references, match you in a battle of wits, and actually enjoy learning and the research aspect of hunting. And your yearning for him didn't stop there because it didn't help that Sam was devastatingly handsome and, at his core, such a gentleman.

The realization that you liked Sam hit you like a ton of bricks. So, you did what you did best when it came to your feelings, you ran. You distanced yourself from them. You would purposely dodge their calls (Sam's mostly). It was a dick move, and you knew it since they were most likely calling for help, but you couldn't bring yourself to call back.

But with this particular hunt, you were stumped and needed help. You had tracked down a necklace from the late 17th century that led a trail of bodies behind it. You surmised that it was cursed, and you needed to get to it and burn it. The only problem was that it was sold to a small museum owner in an estate sale from the previous owner and was going to be displayed in the town's museum for its grand opening, with the necklace being the main exhibit. You had no way of getting it without being caught, so you needed extra hands.

You paced the length of the motel room you were staying out, biting your thumb as you debated on calling in for some help. You would have called Bobby for help, but you knew he would just send the Winchesters over to you anyway. After pacing around your room, you bit the bullet and called Dean.

"Well, isn't this a surprise sweetheart!" Dean's voice filtered through your ears, and you couldn't help the slight smile that grew on your face at the sound of his cheery tone (even if you could hear the undercurrent of smugness in his words).

"Hi Dean," You greeted with a chuckle as you sat down on the edge of the bed, the springs creaking slightly underneath your weight.

"I hate to admit it, but I need your help on this hunt I'm working on." You asked as you bit your bottom lip, waiting for his response.

"You're in luck. Sammy and I just wrapped up a hunt here, where are you anyway?"

You felt your heart start to beat faster at the mention of Sam, which made you roll your eyes at your reaction to just a name. You told him the town and the state the hunt was in, and you could practically hear the grin in his voice as Dean replied.

"We're not that far from you. Just a couple hours drive from you."

"Well, if you're up for it, I could really use the help."

"Oh, we'll be there, sweetheart. Text me the motel you're staying at and the room number, and I'll let you know when we get there."

"Will do." You told him, and the two of you said goodbye as you hung up the phone. You fell backward onto the bed with a loud exhale. At least you had a couple of hours to compose yourself and try to breathe normally. You found yourself always short of breath while Sam Winchester was in the vicinity of you (you should probably go to the doctor for that, but it's not like you had good health insurance for a physical).

A couple of hours later, you heard the familiar rumble of the Impala just outside of the motel room. You felt something flutter in your stomach when you realized that you'd be seeing Sam after three months of no contact. There was a knock at the door, and after checking through the peephole of the door, you unlocked and swung the door open to be greeted with the broad grin of Dean Winchester, his brother, standing right behind him with a smaller smile on his face.

Dean had pulled you into a short but warm hug and brushed past you into your room, making himself home as you gave Sam a hug in greeting, feeling his arms wrap around you and squeezing before letting go. You could have sworn his touch lingered as he entered your room. You bit your bottom lip and released it as you shut your door.

Once Sam and Dean were settled at the table in your motel room and you on the bed, you gave them the rundown of what the hunt was and what you needed to do to get rid of the necklace. You were so engrossed in explaining your research and what you found out that you didn't notice Sam's eyes trained on you the entire time, a fond smile on his face as he listened to you talk.

"Not that we're not happy to see you, but this seems like a one-person job?" Dean questioned.

"That's what I thought too, but I found out that the necklace was going to be the main exhibit for the museum and unveiled at the end of the night. I was going to knab it beforehand, but this museum has pretty good security, and as much as I'm good at sneaking around, I don't have the measures to handle them without backup."

"We're just backup then? Oh, that hurts more than you could imagine sweetheart," Dean pretended to get shot in the heart, dramatically holding his chest.

You chuckled at Dean before you looked at Sam at that moment and caught him rolling his eyes at his brother.

"Quit being dramatic Dean," Sam said before his eyes met yours. "We'll help in anyway we can." The soft smile that was on his lips made you melt inside.

You smiled back at Sam. "Thanks, but there's another thing, it's a black-tie event." You winced a bit at your own words.

Dean groaned. "You're telling me I have to wear a tux?"

You scoffed at Dean's whining. "At least you could still hunt in a tux, wearing a dress makes it a little more difficult to move in."

A salacious grin made its way onto Dean's face. "Ah, but it's easier access if you know what I mean." He winked at you, and one of the pillows from the bed hit his face. You heard Sam chuckle, making your smile widen.

"Shut up, Dean. It's late, and the event is tomorrow. So you guys need to buy a suit and I need to go out and buy a dress." You all but shooed the brothers out of your room and bid each other good night.

Morning came faster than you anticipated, and the three of you went out for breakfast at the nearest diner before you guys went shopping for the outfits you needed for tonight.

"So, I was thinking, if the event is black-tie, wouldn't it mean this is invite only?" Sam asked while the three of you were eating.

You swallowed thickly and nodded. "Yeah, I was able to get two tickets, both of them with plus ones." The sweet old lady who ran the motel had given them to you, saying that she was too old to go and wanted to give them someone. She had given them to you since you had mentioned offhandly that you wanted to visit the museum after it opened.

"Good, I'll take the other ticket and Sammy here can be your plus one." Dean said with a wide smile as he patted Sam's shoulder. Your eyes widened at Dean's words, seeing the mischief glint in his green eyes.

You pursed your lips and looked at Sam. He had an unreadable face and looked everywhere but at you.

You cleared your throat to grab his attention. "Is that okay with you Sam?"

Sam finally looked at you and hummed. "Sorry, what?"

"Are you okay with being my date to the museum?" You clarified.

Sam nodded, his hair falling into his eyes as he did. "Yeah, it's okay." He reassured you, and the temptation to brush it away for him was at an all-time high. You couldn't help but feel a little disappointed when he did it himself.

From there, the three of you finished your breakfast and went out and shopped for your dresses and tuxedos, respectively. You had found a beautiful spaghetti-strap green dress; the neckline came at a v, exposing a large portion of your collarbone and chest, a slit on either side of the dress that went up to your midthigh. There was an open back that stopped right above your lower back. This was the first time in years you would wear a dress, and when you tried it on in the store, you couldn't help but get it.

Once you guys were done shopping, you went back to the motel to get ready. Dean teased you about how girls take longer, but you didn't dignify his teasing with a response. With a roll of your eyes and a wave of your hand, you went into your motel room to get ready and informed the boys to be prepared by 6:30 since the event started at 7.

You took a shower, shaved everything, and slipped into the dress. You did your makeup, and it was a little heavier than usual, having put some eyeshadow on your lids, smoking it out, eyeliner, and some lipstick to tie the look together. With your hair, you french braided the front of it, leaving some framing pieces out, and then took the rest of your hair and pulled it into a bun at the nape of your neck.

There was a knock on your door as you finished up, and you quickly left the bathroom and opened the motel door to see Sam and Dean in their tuxes. They both looked handsome, but your breath caught as you stared at Sam. His hair was relatively the same; it was just combed down, and some product was used to tame it. His suit fit him like a glove, and you gripped the door a little tighter as your eyes roamed his figure.

"Wow," Dean breathed out, breaking you out of your little trance. "You look great." Dean said with a genuine smile on his face. His compliment made you smile.

"Thanks Dean. You look pretty good too."

Dean scoffed playfully. "Just good? I think the words you're looking for are handsome, jaw-droppingly attractive or you know any adjective that means hot."

"Right," You drawled out. "Why would I lie to you?" You smiled sarcastically at him and laughed when his smile dropped into a scowl.

"I'll be in the car." He grumbled before stalking off to the parking lot and to the Impala.

You and Sam laughed at Dean before the two of you settled into an awkward silence.

You smiled tightly at him. "Let me get my bag and we can go."

Sam nodded, and you quickly grabbed your bag. You exited the room and locked the motel door once it closed. The two of you walked to the Impala and got in.

Once you had entered the museum, you knew you were doomed. Sam was acting like a perfect gentleman and date, always having a hand on you at all times, whether it be at the small of your back or your arm hooked around his as you walked around the ornate museum.

"I didn't get to say this earlier, but you look beautiful." Sam had whispered into your ear as the two of you walked into the museum, and you almost tripped on your kitten heels because of the sudden compliment. You felt your cheeks warm as you quietly thanked him.

The three of you decided to walk the museum and tried to find the necklace before it could be unveiled to the public. Dean had the first floor, while you and Sam had the second floor. Most of the second floor was the other exhibits the museum had. But you eventually found the necklace behind a locked room. Sam picked the lock to the door and saw the necklace in the corner of the room. The two of you carefully grabbed the necklace from the mannequin neck it was displayed on and put it in your bag.

Before you guys could get out of the room, you heard heavy footsteps heading your way. You started to panic internally as Sam looked at you urgently.

"Kiss me." You blurted out.

Sam's eyes widened. "What?"

"Look, we don't have a way out without being caught and public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable."

"Yeah, they do. Are you sure?"

You heard the footsteps get closer and closer, and you quickly pulled Sam down by his neck and placed your lips on his. Sam's hands found your waist as he pulled you in closer to his broad figure but also moved you backward until your bare back hit the wall.

His lips were soft and warm as they moved against yours, and you couldn't help but feel warmth fill your chest as you kissed him. Your hands made their way up his chest and wound up on his shoulder and hair, making him scoot closer to you, his leg fitting through the gap between your open ones and gasping into his lips as his thigh pressed against your core.

The door opened, and the both of you pulled away, slightly out of breath, and turned to see Dean grinning widely in the doorway.

"Well, as much as I love to see the two of you work your feelings out for each other, we need to leave before we get caught stealing a necklace."  

Your heart starts to beat faster than it already was at Dean's words. Sam had feelings for me? You thought to yourself as you looked at Sam, who was already looking back at you and seemed to think about the same thing.

Sam leaned down. "We'll talk at the motel." He whispered in your ear before pulling away and sending you a smile. You nodded and followed him out of the room, Dean leading the charge out of the museum.

You were nervous and antsy the entire ride back to the motel, having destroyed the necklace in the woods right beside the museum. You stared at the back of Sam's head as Dean drove, wondering what the hell was going through his head.

When you guys made it back, Sam had you followed back to your room. Dean noticed, and he started to make some teasing remarks about the two of you to keep it down. All you and Sam did was flip him off and go into your room.

After the door shut, you and Sam were standing in the middle of the room, staring at each other in a charged silence. You don't know who moved first, but the two of you were entangled in one another, hands pulling at clothes, lips, and teeth on jawlines and neck. Hips grinding into one another, low moans and groans filled the air as the two shared a passionate embrace.

Later, after the two of you cleaned up, you were tucked into Sam's side, resting your head on his bare chest, absentmindedly tracing his tattoo with your fingertip. At the same time, his hand trailed up and down your arm and shoulder and kissed your hair occasionally as the two of you basked in the comfortable silence.

"This isn't a one time thing for me you know?" Sam's voice broke through the calmness of the quiet room.

You turned your head to look up at him. "Really?" You asked him, and you could feel the corner of your lips threaten to twitch up into a smile.

Sam nodded a sheepish smile on his face. "I know I don't have the best track record, but I really like you." He said with a slight blush beginning to grow on his cheeks.

Sam had told you about his experiences with love in a late-night conversation you two had shared a couple of months ago. You could understand since you also didn't have the best experiences with love either and confided in each other about it.

But at Sam's admission, you couldn't help but smile widely as Sam. You moved from Sam's side to straddle his hips. He sat up a little, and you threw your arms over his shoulders.

"Well, you're in luck because I really like you too Sam Winchester." You leaned closer and brushed your lips over his.

You felt Sam grin as you pecked his lips. "Really?" He teased, his hands resting on your bare hips as he slowly moved them against his growing bulge under the sheets.

You kissed him hard before trailing your lips down his jaw and neck. "How about I just show you?" You mumbled against his collarbone and nipped at it before your lips trailed lower and lower down his body.

Maybe calling the Winchesters for help wasn't a bad idea at all.