#Sam Winchester X reader

[luvergirl777]

Cleanin' Baby | Dean Winchester

Pairing | Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count | 12.5 k

Genre | Enemies to Lovers, Smut

Summary | Dean can't stand new people, especially people intruding on his life and telling him what to do. You drive him insane, Sam having to separate the two of you before fists and teeth start flying. You finally get under his skin for the last time with your dumb stunts, pushing him over the edge.

Index | Dean and reader fight constantly, Sam is the babysitter, Dean hates you because you are him, you're also incredibly hot, not that he'd admit it, perhaps maybe just a bit he admits it. Unprotected sex, wrap it up folks. Soft dom Dean, a bit of sub Dean. He's whipped and will listen to a pretty girl. Two idiots in love.

Dean is never fond of new people, it takes him a very long time to warm up to newcomers. When the two brothers find you battered and bruised, barely still alive after fending a demon off on your own, he’s a bit impressed. Upon further investigation, Sam watching over you, Dean realizes you had managed to damn it back to hell all on your own. Even more impressed, Dean is confused as to how you managed to survive. “You said it was aggressive?” Dean double checks, wondering if you somehow got lucky and encountered the impossible, un-aggressive demon. Sure, that would explain how you managed to survive on your own. 

“Are you fuckin’ stupid? You think I beat myself up after killing the damn thing?” 

“Well you didn’t technically kill it but-” 

“Oh shut up, pretty boy.” You grit, rolling your eyes as you hold onto Sam’s arm to stand up. Sam, ever so caring, nearly lifts your weight with no effort. He’s supporting all of your weight easily as you try and hobble along to safety. 

“Easy now sassy, you’re about one hit away from dying.”

“You gonna hit me?” The face you give him is unreadable, and Sam is preparing himself to jump in between the two of you if needed. You’ve stopped walking, completely turned around as you face Dean behind you. Dean, never one to back down, takes a step closer to you. 

“Guys, c’mon.” Sam intervenes, pushing his brother by the chest to create some distance between the two of you arguing. “You two sound like a couple of 5 year olds.”

Both you and Dean roll your eyes, and you’re hobbling your way out the door to get to some sort of hospital to get a check up. The pain is actually ridiculous, and if you weren’t so battered, you probably would've fought with Dean more. “Here, let us give you a ride,” Sam offers, quickly chasing you in fear you would topple after leaving his side. 

“She is NOT bleeding all over baby,” Dean protests as Sam walks you out of the door, taking you to the car. Dean closes the door behind him after glancing inside once more, still in disbelief of what the hell is happening. They burst open your door expecting to damn something to hell, and instead found you bleeding out in the middle of the floor. And now you and Dean are arguing as you hobble your way to the back of Baby. 

“You call this car baby?” You roll your eyes, “You gotta take care of her better if you’re gonna call her a fucking pet name. This thing has 2 years of fuckin’ dirt on it. Baby my ass.” Dean almost stops in place, arms raising slightly in defense, jaw dropped as he looks at Sam. Usually you're more pleasant, however, you're battered and bruised and in pain.

After absolutely giving it to Dean, you’re opening the back door and limply climbing in. You’re collapsing against the seat before Dean can jab at you. Dean wants to dish it out once again, and Sam slaps a hand over his mouth. He can’t deal with the two of you, he really can’t. Closing the door behind you, Sam’s turning around to talk sense into his stubborn older brother. “She damned a demon on her own, she could help us.” 

“Her, help us?” Dean scoffs, “Yeah, I’d rather be kicked in the balls.” 

“I’m about to if you don’t shut the hell up,” Sam shoves him around the car, “It could be good, finding someone to put you in your place every now and then.” 

That's how you met, and it’s been years already. Despite being together almost 24/7, you and Dean are still constantly at each other’s throats. If you’re not lashing out at Dean, he’s dishing some snarky shit out to you. Sam stays as uninvolved as he can, always letting you two at it before it’s clear intervention is needed. 

--- 

“You really don’t have to sit there and watch me like some hawk,” Dean’s annoyed as you perch yourself on a stool, watching as he works on Baby. It’s about a million degrees and Dean has refused to drink anything but alcohol and coffee for the past 24 hours, and not to mention it’s the middle of the day with the sun beating down overhead. “I don’t need a babysitter. “

“Sammy’s worried about you, said you’re going to have a heat stroke or pass out. Figure I’d come out here and pester you into coming back inside.” You shrug, completely unbothered as you don’t move from the stool. Your tone is nonchalant, only getting on his nerves more. Baby is technically sound and purring like a kitten on the road, Dean’s just been itching to tinker and a distraction from you waltzing around the bunker. “God know’s Sammy’s not gonna do it-” 

“Stop calling him that?” 

“Calling who what?” 

“Sammy.” Dean mumbles, already turning around from you to focus back on the engine. You’re already getting on his nerves, and if he looks at you any longer you’ll succeed in pestering him back into the house. “Go back inside and tell my nerdy little brother I’m fine out here. By myself.” 

“Sam’s not gonna take that for an answer.” You’re still calm and collected, leaning forward on the stool as you get a closer look at what Dean’s doing. You watch his hands work, nimble and quick as he easily gets into every corner he wants. There’s a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips at your thoughts, and you’re trying awfully hard not to laugh loudly. Dean can almost hear the joke writing itself in your head, and feel the smile growing on your face. “You know you’re really good with your fingers-” 

“Okay! You win!” And he’s storming back into the bunker to get water from an expectant Sam in the kitchen, already in a glass with ice. “Don’t.” He speaks to him, raising a finger to Sam. He can already hear the thoughts in his head, too. 

---

“Oh really, that’s your smart ass plan?” You mumble, listening to Dean attempt to explain the plan of waltzing into a bank and trying to sweet talk a bank teller to the vault. It would never in a million years happen, regardless of how annoying charming Dean could be. No one is that stupid, not even a bank secretary who doesn’t know who Dean is. 

“Well, if you have anything better, please enlighten me.” He’s slamming the folder down on the table in front of you, crossing his arms. 

“Anything is likely better-” When you stand up from your seat, and Dean steps toward you, Sam is quick to intervene before you two start dishing it out. 

“OKAY!” Sam basically yells to get your guy’s attention. You two calm down, you sitting down, Dean stepping away from you, and Sam finally taking a breath. 

---

Or the one time you drove Baby, absolutely full throttling her around turns as if you were a professional driver. In your defense, you didn’t crash and actually handled it quite well. Poor Sam is laying down in the back of the car, injured and praying you get to the hospital soon. But Dean was about to have a heart attack in the passenger seat of his car. He’s pressed against the door with the force you’re jerking the car around, gripping anything he can reach. 

“Never again, never again.” Dean almost prays underneath his breath, but he’s not and never will be a religious man.

---

Or the one time you were the bait for some creepy old man, needing to steal a weapon he had on display in his house. You were in the middle of his bed, about to fake vomit as he ran his hands along your waist. “Listen, I heard something you had. Something very impressive, an ancient weapon of sorts.” You purr, rolling your eyes as he goes along with it. 

“Of course I do, it’s in my office. I can show you after we’re done here.” He mumbles, and you’re swinging and clocking him against his temple, toppling him over. He lands with a thud on the hardwood floor, knocked out cold. At the commotion, Dean is bursting through the door. 

“HEY!” Dean screams, puffed up and ready for action. 

“He’s knocked out, dick for brains.” You mumble, climbing off of the bed and adjusting your dress which had ridden almost all the way up to your waist. He swears he catches a peek of the pink panties you’re wearing, but for his benefit, he’s trying to convince himself he saw nothing at all. News flash, not and never was going to work. Dean watches with wide eyes, his gaze following and trailing along your bare skin down to your thighs as you cover yourself back up. “Thanks for caring, pretty boy.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, walking over to the man that is unconscious against the hardwood floor. He’s mumbling something underneath his breath, landing one more blow onto the old bastard, before finally catching back up with you in the office. 

—-

You and Dean are on a hunt the first time he lays hands on you. You both had been separated, running and hiding in respective locations of the mouldy, broken down house. Dean’s frantic and stressed after hearing you yelp on the other side of the house, rushing over to find you and seeing no one. He's running around the house at this point, stopping for two seconds in the middle of the hallway to try and find his thoughts. 

A hand grabs his shoulder, grip hard enough to leave bruises underneath his jacket. He's whipping around before he can even think another thought, hand balled up into a tight fist as he spins. It’s too late to pull his punch when he realizes, eyes wide as he makes contact with your confused expression. He can pull it about 90%, softening the impending blow to your cheek bone. He's yelping for you when his fist makes contact with your skin, already groaning at himself. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Sorry! You scared me.” Dean’s explaining immediately, arms catching you before you even have the chance to stumble backwards from the blow. He cradles you before you can air out your grievances, one hand coming to hold your cheek in betrayal. “I thought they had you, god I thought they had you.” He mumbles as he holds you, reassuring both you and himself that you’re okay, or trying to at least. 

“Dean, god.” You groan, peering up to look at him. “Let's finish this job, please, without any more collateral damage.” You mumble, shuffling around to find your knife. “Fuckers took my blade.” 

“It's okay, I'll get them.” Dean mumbles, quickly pressing his lips to your hairline before letting you go. You stay behind Dean, this time a considerable distance, as he finishes the job and gets the both of you out of there safely. Dean has reason now, speeding out of there like hell after killing anything in his path. 

Getting back to the bunker, Dean parks the car and doesn’t move an inch. You already know why, and you already know the speech he’s about to dish out. “Listen-“ 

“It’s not your fault.” You immediately cut him off, shaking your head. You already have a bruise forming on your cheek despite Dean doing his best to pull his punch. The guilt eats him every time you look at each other and he has to divert his eyes. 

“Alrighty,” Dean presses his lips together as he thinks of another solution. “Give me one,” Dean nods, waving his hands to get you to come closer. You scoff at him, shaking your head as you fight off the laugh that bubbles. You’ve seen him and Sam go at each other like this, getting even in a way only brothers can. He taps his cheek, looking to the side. “Give me two, actually. One to make it even, one for putting my hands on a woman.” He waves you closer, dead serious. 

“Dean-“ 

“Lay 'em on me, one at a time, back to back, hard as you want, doesn’t matter, come on.” He’s still looking away from you, refusing to take no for an answer and he waits for the blows to land. He didn’t mean to, you know it, and you know he’s going to feel bad for a while. You scoff and shuffle, Dean tenses as he waits for the blow. You kiss his cheek, grabbing his face and turning it, before kissing his other cheek. 

“There, two blows, back to back.” You smile, “Now let’s go inside so I can get ice for my cheek.” 

Dean’s blushing like an idiot before scurrying after you, “I'll get the ice, you go lay down!” 

---

You had been sick for well over a week while the boys were on a job, sitting by yourself in a house and working as the information specialist for the time being. When they would call, you’d give them all the information you had been collecting within the past couple of hours. Always hours, never days, because you’d get too worried about them. Dean, not admitting it, also calls every couple of hours to make sure you’re still kicking. You sound like hell, and it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that you are not taking care of yourself while they’re away. 

Sam’s out on a home visit, and Dean is fidgeting with his phone in his hands. Pressing buttons, deleting the numbers, and the cycle repeats itself. Finally putting his big girl panties on, he dials your contact and calls. “Dean? Is everything okay?” Your voice is worried, the call slightly random from the semi-schedule you guys have grown accustomed to. 

“Hey, hey, yeah we’re good. Sam’s just out making some runs, you know.” He sounds awkward and like a loser, he already knows it. He can pretty much hear Sam’s voice mocking him. “Just wanted to call, see how you’re holding up. Taking that medicine I got? Eating everyday?” He’s interrogating you, for your well being of course. 

“The medicine you got me is like ketamine…or something.” You laugh. 

“What?! It is not-” 

“It so is! Some random pills you got from who knows where, from who knows, and you’re telling me to take them?” You’re scolding him softly, but he can still hear the humour in your voice. 

“Whatever, when we get back I’m gonna smother you back to good health.” You roll your eyes at this, Dean knows that without even being in the room with you. “Pills and all.” 

“Dean, whatever. Just don’t die and get back here soon.” You laugh softly on the other side of the phone. Dean can hear the tone of your voice, almost pleading with him. In your defense, the two of them had been gone for over a week on the job including travel time to get there. 

--- 

Dean will never admit it but after that he gets softer around you, starts looking out for you more than he lets on. He’s a softie, even if he won’t show it. The first time Dean almost dies since you’ve joined the team, it’s the first close call the three of you have had to someone actually dying. Sure, the three of you have been hurt and wounded, but nothing quite like when Dean’s guts were outside of his body for far too long to actually be okay. 

He’s been in surgery for hours at this point, Sam had left a while ago to try and put some distance in between him and his brother possibly dying in front of him. You’re left in the cold waiting room by yourself, elbows on your knees as you wait. Your face has been rubbed more times than you can count, one more and your face will come off. You curse Sam for leaving you alone, but part of you does understand as well. 

You rocket out of your seat at the beginning of “D-” whipping around to face the nurse before she can even finish his name. You’re frantic, sure, but you can’t help it. “Dean? Is it for Dean?” Your voice comes out more of a mumble, the poor nurse nodding her head softly. She leads a shaky you to his room, heart in your feet. The nurse stops at the front, stepping to the side to allow you to walk in on your own. It takes all willpower in your body to not immediately crumble to the floor at the sight. Dean’s eyes are open, squinted almost completely shut, as his head rolls over to the side to look at you. 

His eyes widen the slightest bit at the sight of you and not Sam and the tears immediately begin flowing down your face. You try hard not to audibly sob, but it’s taking a lot of effort. “H-hey, Dean.” You sound pathetic as you shuffle over to the side of his bed, almost scared that your presence alone will send him back into a near death state. As soon as you make it to the side of the bed, his arm reaches over and brushes against your leg. “You fucking dick!” You’re hysterical as he makes contact. “You can’t scare me like that! Ever! Don’t ever do that again!” Absolutely ridiculous as you crumble down onto the bed, your arms wrapping around his head. 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re okay.” He’s quick to comfort you, arms weakly wrapping around your waist. He grunts with the effort it takes in his current state. You’re almost climbing into the bed with him at this point, not wanting to let go of him. He’s trying not to cry with your state of general mess, seeing you so upset is getting him emotional. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, Dean. God, I was so scared. Sorry. Sam is just out to get some air. You know how he deals with this, I’m sure they’ve called him.” You’re prying your arms away from his form, sitting down on the bed next to him. Maybe it’s the hysterics, but you’re running your fingers through his hair and gently holding his face in the other hand. Leaning forward, you place the shakiest kiss on his forehead. “You’re never allowed to go by yourself ever again.” Sam walks in on the two of you like this, you obsessively petting his head while holding his face in the other palm. Your entire face is wet at this point, tears soaking your features. 

Sam lets you sit for a moment longer, the wet patch on your shirt indication that this is needed. Eventually, he has to butt in otherwise Dean will think his brother hates him. When he finally clears his throat, you almost scatter away from Dean.  

---

Eventually, you become a part of the little family they have. It takes a long time for Dean to come around, and Sam takes less time. When Sam lets you call him Sammy for the first time without correcting you as he does everyone else, Dean knows you're in for the long haul. Technically it’s the first and only time you’ve called him Sammy in front of him, the circumstances and situation making you talk before thinking. 

Sam and Dean had been fighting the entire job, at each other’s throats for something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Usually it’s banter and general sibling bickering, but this time it’s different. The tipping point comes when Dean mumbles something under his breath in the hotel room after a long day, Sam immediately reacting as he jolts up. Before you can even comprehend what the argument is about, fists are flying and the two are grappling each other. You’re watching with wide eyes, never quite seeing the two get this distant from each other. Sam is Dean’s baby brother, he’d do anything for him. 

“Guys, what, stop!” You mumble, trying to intervene as Sam has gotten Dean pinned by the throat underneath him. You know they wouldn’t do any permanent damage to each other, but you still feel your stomach flip at the position. “Guys, please!” Your eyes are watery and you’re trying with all of your force to pull Sam off of him. Sam, easily outweighing you, doesn’t budge an inch and is just more annoyed at you pulling him. 

“If you want to leave, leave. We don’t need you.” Dean spits, pushing at Sam’s arm that remains at his neck. Sam clenches his jaw, clicking his tongue. 

“I won’t come back this time.” Sam spits, deadly serious. You’ve never heard Sam this serious in the entire time you’ve known him, not on a hunt, not on an investigation, nothing. Dean’s about to say something before you’re slapping a hand over his mouth. You’re crying at this point, pathetically holding Sam’s arm as you rest your face against his shoulder. You can’t move him. 

“Sammy, please.” You cry, a horrid sob leaving your throat as you plead with him. Even Dean looks sideways at you, shocking him as well. At the plea, Sam steps back, releasing the pressure he’s holding Dean to. “Sammy, stop. You can’t leave us, we need you, please.” You cry softly, letting go of Dean’s face to hold Sam’s arm instead. 

“I- I’m sorry.” Sam mumbles softly, shrugging you off his arm in favour of pulling you into his embrace. “It’s okay, we’re okay. I’m not going anywhere.” Sam mumbles, trying to console you. You nod into his chest, reaching over to hold Dean’s face rather than slapping your hand over it. Dean leans into it, pushing his cheek into your palm. For the first time, it’s you being the negotiator between the two brothers rather than Sam being in between you and Dean. And for the first time, it was actually scary. 

---

With Sam, Dean doesn’t keep tally on who saves who’s ass. He’s family, it’s expected. And with you, he doesn't either. (He totally does, he just won’t admit it. However, you’re two up on him, and it kills him every time he thinks about it.) He swears to himself he’ll make it even eventually. 

---

Dean’s final straw is you washing Baby, wearing an all too small bikini as you wash the grime off of her. You had been giving him shit for it for awhile now, always quoting his dad on how he should’ve been taking better care of the car. It kills him, always being lectured about his precious baby that has been HIS car for years now. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asks, the front door of the house you’re staying in swinging open. He’s walking out just enough to watch closer, arms crossed as he stands on the sidewalk to the front door. You’re in the driveway, squatted down, washing the rims when he interrupts you. 

“Washing your dirty ass car.” 

“And why would you do that?”

“I have to ride around in the thing, it might as well look nice.” You shrug, continuing to wash. Your back is facing him when you talk, and Dean is watching almost your every move. His eyes trail down your back, over the curve of your ass, before landing on your thighs. They flex underneath your weight, a sight for sore eyes as he watches you. 

“No, smart ass, why are you doing it? Shouldn’t I be the one to wash my own car?” Dean mumbles, moving closer to you. You don’t budge, still crouched down next to his car. When he walks closer, it’s immediately a bad idea, and it’s too late before he realizes. 

“Well, you haven’t in let's say, the better part of 2 years so,” For the first time since he’s talked to you, you break your focus to look at him. Much closer to you, you have to crane your neck to look up at him. Still squatted down, in that tiny ass bikini you’re wearing. It covers enough of you to be legal, but god damn it, he’s reeling. 

“Don’t, don’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?!” 

“Acting like you don’t know what you’re doing.” Dean grits his teeth, squinting his eyes as he stares down at you. 

“What I know I’m doing is washing your car. You’re the one that came out here for whatever reason. To fight with me? Who fuckin’ knows.” You turn your attention back to the car, “You can help me, instead of sitting there and bitching. Shirt off though, that’s a requirement.” You laugh out the last part, reaching to the side and throwing soap at him. It makes his white shirt see through, showing his skin through the cloth. 

“This is ridiculous,” Dean sighs, rolling his eyes. For a moment, you don’t think he’s going to play along. For a moment,  you’re sure he’s just going to walk back into the house. You smile softly when he’s pulling his shirt off, throwing it somewhere back towards the front door. You giggle, now playing a game with him. You smile as he reaches into the bucket, taking another sponge and beginning to wash the back rim. 

In the time you’ve known him, Dean is easy to rile up. Some good banter, a few batted eyelashes, maybe even look up at him, and he’s a goner. You’ve seen him get more numbers at bars than you can count on both hands and feet, never leaving a town without one. It’s a part of why you’ve never made  a move, because you know him. And you know his type, and you know what he likes to do. Just a little bit of fun, a little playing here and there. Regardless, it’s fun. 

You giggle, moving from the rim you’re washing to the hood. You’re leaning over the hood, bending at the hips to reach the top. Dean stands up from the back, determined to watch you wash the hood. He scoffs softly, walking around to you. “You’re doing this wrong,” He mumbles. 

“You haven't washed this in years and you’re lecturing me?”

“Just, shut the hell up for a second.” He mumbles, reaching around you to move your arm. He moves the sponge in circular motions, leaning over you. His hips barely make contact with yours, only the side of his hip brushing against your ass. If he moves over a single step, he’d be completely behind your bent over form. Suddenly, it’s all too much, he’s too close, and you’re so incredibly warm. “What, you’re finally listening to me for once?” Dean chuckles at your silence. 

You’re quiet, face beginning to flush. “Not listening, smart ass. I’m just learning the right technique, according to you.” You’re pressing your ass against the hip that’s next to you, trying for the life of you to get him to move. His hand flys down to grab at your waist, holding you still. You’re still in this ridiculously small bikini, and his hand is now on your bare skin. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” Dean mumbles, his head falling forward slightly. His forehead hits your shoulder for a moment before he’s pulling himself up. Putting some space in between you, his hand still remains on your waist. For a moment, a realization hits him at how small your waist is, especially compared to his hands on your skin. 

“If i’m not, who else would be?” You giggle, leaning further forward to reach the very top of the hood. From his teaching, you wash small circles. “You know, everyone’s out of the house until later tonight, right? Some dinner, poker match. I’m surprised you didn’t go with them.” 

“What’re you saying, hm?” Dean mumbles, once again leaning over you. This time, he’s slightly more behind your hips, giving you more leverage to press back against him. 

You smile, feeling his chest hit your back as he leans forward, head beginning to nestle in the crook of your neck as he talks, lips brushing against your ear. As his weight falls further onto you, you allow your arms to fold as he presses against your back. You rest on your forearms, the change in position pressing harder into his hips. 

“Was this your plan the entire time, hm?” Dean grits, one hand moving to adjust your jaw, pushing your head to the side to make you look at him. “Wear this slutty excuse of a bikini, walk out here and wash my prized possession, get me to join? Hm?” 

“I wouldn’t say the entire time,” You giggle. “Maybe just since you walked out here.” You shrug, whining when he adjusts his hand, allowing his hand to move from your jaw to your neck. 

“This is unfair,” Dean mumbles, softly biting into your shoulder. “My favorite girl, out here washing my favorite car, and you expect me not to take the bait?” 

He allows his hand to move, instead of holding your waist, he holds your abdomen, pushing you back against him. You can feel him pressed against your skin, able to slot his hard cock in between your folds when you move a certain way. The fabric leaves little to the imagination, and he can feel the heat in between your legs. 

“You gonna be mean, and take me right here? Or be nice and take me to the bedroom hm?” You tease him, moaning softly when he grinds against you. 

“You know me, I like it all. So both.” He smiles, and though you can’t see it, you know. His fingertips dip underneath your bathing suit bottoms, trailing down to exactly where you need him. “You’re fucking soaked,” Dean mumbles, “You were thinking about this for awhile, huh? Pretending to just be washing my car, what a load of shit.” Dean mumbles, groaning softly as his fingers slip through your folds. He rubs gentle circles into your clit, slowly building pressure. 

“You, I, just maybe.” You whimper, immediately weak in the limbs as he toys with you. The circles speed up, drawing out the softest whines and whimpers. He chases the noises as if it’s his own high, humming along softly when you let out a particularly loud whimper. 

“How long have you been thinking of this, hm?” Dean asks, snaking one arm behind you as he gently slips a finger into your pussy, slow and careful in his movements. You whine even louder, tightening around his fingers as he slips in another, fucking into you while rubbing your clit with his other hand. He’s adamant, chasing your high before thinking of himself. “Answer me,” 

“Not long, since you’re all over every single girl you can get your hands on.” You mumble, riling him up. He fucks more roughly into you, grinding harshly against your g-spot. “Just need some relief, and you’re the only one here.” You’re lying through your teeth. 

“You know all that shit is just me messin’ around, and you’re a bad liar, you know that?” Dean mumbles, beginning to kiss along any skin he can reach. “This wet? And you expect me to believe this is for anyone, hm? I bet if Sammy came out here, you would’ve immediately covered up, huh, hide all of this.” His hands reach up to pull at your bikini top, exposing your tits to his touch. He roughly gropes and feels your skin, twisting and pulling at your nipples, punishing you for riling him up. 

“Okay, maybe not Sammy.” You shrug, “I could find a cutie at the bar, though, I’m sure.” His hand moves forward to wrap around your throat once again, squeezing just enough to make your mind fuzzy and to stop talking like a smart ass. 

“But you wouldn’t, if you wanted to, you would’ve already done it.” He shrugs, you can feel the movement against your shoulders. You’re close, squeezing down around him. You don’t even have to tell him, he’s already teasing and pulling your strings before you can speak. “See, who else can rile you up like this, hm?” 

“Can you make me cum, or are you all talk Dean?” You grit, almost unable to speak with him all over you like this. Every sense of you is filled with him, he’s all you can think of. 

“Yeah, sure,” He laughs softly when you clench hard around him, teetering close. “You don’t have to tell me you’re close, I can feel it. If you keep being smart with me, I can stop. It won’t take much, you know, rip this pretty little orgasm away from you in a second.”

His fingers slow, no longer giving you the stimulation you need to actually cum. “Please, please, I’m sorry. Please make me cum.” You plead with him. 

“There she is,” He laughs, speeding up once again to allow you to fall off the edge. When you come undone, it’s violent. Your legs shake, you tighten around him, and you thank god for baby underneath you to hold your weight up. Dean forces you to ride out the high, slowing down only barely to not push you into over-stimulation. 

“Fuck me.” You mumble, roughly pulling him closer to you. It doesn’t matter how, you need it. “Now, Dean, unless you can’t get it up in your old age-”

He slips one of his fingers into your mouth, roughly pulling on your cheek. “A please would be nice, huh Pretty girl?” Dean mumbles, and you can hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. It’s fast and hasty, and you already know he’s pissed off with you constantly nagging him. “Just demand demand demand, whine whine whine.” Dean grits, roughly pulling your bottoms to the side, “Is that all you do, huh?” He’s pushing into you before you can react, pulling a loud moan from you as he holds your mouth open. 

“Fuck, fuck, thank you,” You whimper, squeezing around him tightly. He bottoms out, grinding against your hips as he savours the feeling of being completely inside you. His hips are rough, battering into you with little remorse. Fucking the smart ass out of you, that’s what he’s gonna do or die trying. From the mewls and whimpers slipping past your lips without your control, he feels he’s doing a pretty good job. 

“That’s more like it, there’s my girl.” Dean groans, cock throbbing at hearing you finally shut up for the first time, literally, since he’s met you. For once in his life, you aren’t spitting some sarcastic ass shit at him, and he’s not spitting it back at you. “Feels good hm, does my girl feel good?” Dean’s deep voice sends goosebumps across your skin, the vibrations running through you like a live wire as you work yourself up further. 

“Your girl, hm? That’s new.” You mumble, moaning softly when his grip moves to press down on your tongue, stopping you from talking. Drool pools around his finger, and he groans when you wrap your lips around it, tongue moving slightly underneath his touch to run along the pad. 

“Is that a problem?” 

You can’t respond, and he knows it. You clench tightly around him, a vice grip in response, and he almost genuinely laughs at how needy you are for him. His hips react immediately to you, thrusting rougher into you, chasing the pleasure the both of you are feeling. Moving his grip from your waist, he begins rubbing tight circles against your clit, trying to get you over the edge. It doesn’t take much to get you to fall over the edge, legs shaking underneath both of your weight. 

“Good girl, easy, easy, ride it out. Don’t hurt yourself now,” Dean patronizes you gently, continuing to chase his own high. 

“Cum, cum Dean, please.” You mumble around his fingers, tightening around even further. You’re so tight and just absolutely soaked that he’s spilling into you soon after, chanting your name gently in your ear as he comes undone. “Fuck, fuck,” You mumble, finally beginning to relax as he slows down his movements. 

“C’mon pretty girl, I gotta give you the second half of my promise.” Dean laughs softly, “Or not, if you can’t take it.” 

“If I can’t take it? Are you kidding me?” You smile, carefully pushing yourself up on your hands, glancing back at him. “Let’s go, your bed so I don’t have to wash my sheets later.” At this, Dean rolls his eyes, of course. Still, the second you turn around to face him, he’s hoisting you up onto his waist, pushing at your legs to get you to wrap around his torso. He carries you easily, walking through the empty house and straight to his room. Your back hits the bed, Dean toppling with you soon after. 

“Gonna make soft mushy love to me, huh Dean?” You joke with him, your legs still wrapped around his torso, arms holding his head in your palms. 

“After bending you over Baby, yeah. Best of both worlds or whatever they say.” Dean smiles, his characteristic smirk etched on his face. His head dips down slightly, softly kissing against your jaw, moving down to your neck, before sucking light marks into your chest. Far enough down not to be interrogated by Sammy later, but enough to leave a reminder of him. His head continues to trail down, hands pulling at your bikini bottoms while he bites at your thighs, once again leaving his mark on your otherwise perfect, unbroken skin. 

“Never would’ve thought I’d have you here like this, hm?” He’s rolling his eyes at you, moaning softly when your hands come to pull at his hair. Your thighs rest on his shoulders, tightening the slightest bit around his head when he draws closer, finally making contact with you. “Fuck Dean, you gonna be nice, Dean, please?” 

“To you, of course.” 

Dean is skilled, to say the least. He knows what he’s doing, where he needs to work, what strings he needs to pull, how to get you there. Dean isn’t quiet about his skills either, you’ve heard sly remarks about the girls at bars, road side pubs, and everything in between. He’s living up to his legend, your thighs clamping around his head within minutes. You don’t let him get any smart ass remarks in, pulling him closer when you know he’s about to make fun of you. You control him so easily, muscular legs holding him in place. He’s not going to tell you, you’d never let him live it down, but he’s absolutely shaking at the thought of the hold you have over him. 

“Gonna cum for you Dean, you’re gonna make me cum.” You whine, thighs flexing to grind against his face. He moans into you, caught off guard by your movement. You do it again, whimpering when you realize he likes this, he’s into this. “Cumming, fuck, cumming.” 

His hands move to run along your thighs, trying to calm the shaking underneath his touch. “Good girl, so good for me.” Dean praises. Before he can react, you’re ripping him up. You're holding anywhere you can, forcing Dean to hover over you, legs once again around his waist. 

“You gonna let me kiss you, or is that crossing a line?” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Please.” Dean mumbles, sighing deeply when you immediately connect your lips. Your arms immediately wrap around his neck, pulling him as close as physically possible. Dean wants to melt into you, fuse with you. He’s riling himself up, he knows that, but he swears your lips on him are heaven sent, curing his soul from whatever horrors it has been forced through. Like a breath of fresh air, like he’s alive again. He’d never tell you that, he can only imagine your reaction and the shit you would give him. 

You’re kissing him as if your life depends on it, hands tangling in his hair. Dean could kiss you for hours and not complain, he could do this all day if you’d let him. He’s unsure of how long you’ve been kissing him like this, so needy and whiny underneath him, but he doesn’t care. When he pulls away to catch his breath, your lips are slightly swollen, slick with saliva. Your face has flushed a bright red from the kiss, making you look cute despite being in such a lewd state. 

“God, you’re beautiful.” Dean mumbles, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you. 

You blush softly, but you try to hide it as just flushed cheeks. “Don’t get too sweet on me now.” You smile, tightening around his waist with your legs. 

“Right, right.” Dean smiles, fighting off a laugh when you reach to unbuckle his belt. He’s kicking the jeans off in record speed, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him move that fast. He’s back with you just as fast. “Holy shit,” Dean mumbles, shaking as his cock slides in between  your folds, easily sliding with your slick. It’s so intimate that he’s unused to it, and there’s the smallest fear in his chest that he won’t last having you like this. “Fuck, pretty girl.” 

You whine as he pushes in, so slow that it makes you squirm underneath him. Bottoming out, he allows his head to fall forward, landing in the crook of your neck. “Dean,” 

“Just, fuck, give me a second.” 

“It’s okay,” You mumble, understanding his situation. While you’re understanding, you’re not forgiving as you clench around him like a vise. Your hands reach around, holding his back as you pull him close. You kiss along his skin, waiting until he calms down. 

Dean groans, unbelievable, it’s unbelievable how he’s stuck like this. “I can’t believe this shit,” Dean mumbles, drawing away from you to hook your legs over his elbows, folding you in half when he leans forward again. Finally having some sort of advantage, he’s able to target exactly where he needs to hit. “I feel like a fuckin teenager again.” 

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” You laugh, relishing in the moans that slip past his lips. Finally getting his wits about him, he’s able to finally move, grinding against you. Dean’s not going to last, he knows that, as he begins gently rubbing light circles into your clit. He’s gotta get some sort of leverage, something. Bending further forward, you’re covered entirely by his weight. When your lips gently connect with his, Dean thinks he could conquer the world. Kissing him so gently, so sweetly, has him absolutely reeling. 

“I love you,” Dean blurts, before he can even think to stop it. You don’t think he means it, not in any other way than being horny and worked up. “God, I fucking love you,” He mumbles again, shrugging your legs off of his arms in favour of caging you underneath him, head in between either of his arms as he kisses you. His hips don’t slow for a second, kissing you and chasing his high as if his life depends on it. He’s hitting your g-spot and grinding against your clit at the same time, kissing you as if he would die otherwise, and pressing all of his weight onto you. 

You can’t answer or speak, can’t tell him off for saying that shit mid-fuck. Maybe it’s the position that has him acting up, or it’s the softest he’s fucked in awhile and he doesn’t know how to behave. You’re pulling him closer by his back, kissing him back just as feverishly. 

“Cum for me pretty girl, please, need to feel you wrapped around me.” Dean moans, trailing a hand down in between your bodies. He’s on a mission, truly, needing to get you there before he can allow himself to. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.” 

“Dean,” You whine, “Sensitive, ‘m sensitive.” You complain, overstimulated and worked up. 

“I know, I know. You’re doing so good for me, just one more. Come for me one more time, please. I need it, hm?” Dean pleads with you, “Doing so well for me, taking my cock so well.” Him talking you through it is almost all you need to tip over the edge, the smallest bit of stimulation you need. Throwing your head back, you can’t even look at him when you come undone. Dean kisses along your exposed neck, not leaving any marks for your own sake. 

“Please, please, Dean. Come, no more.” You whine, tightening around him from over-stimulation. You need him to cum, and have a break. You don’t have to tell him twice, hell, you don’t even have to tell him once. He’s been on edge since he brought you into his fucking room. His head is buried in your shoulder, and you whimper when he bites down into the skin. 

You’re so sore and over-stimulated, mumbling as his hips finally slow in their movement. “Y/n,” Dean is mumbling along with you, “Easy pretty girl, you’re okay,” He attempts to soothe you. “Listen, what I said.”

“Don’t do this Dean, it’s okay.” 

“I meant it, I mean it still.” Dean explains, carefully sliding out, careful to not accidentally stimulate you any further. You’re still caged underneath him, his arms around your head. 

“You don’t have to tell me that, it’s okay, really. Heat of the moment, or whatever.”

“Please, listen. I mean it.” He’s speaking so softly it’s genuinely been awhile since you’ve heard this tone, and it’s never been with you. With Sammy, likely. “I know you don’t believe me, and I wish I saved it for a more romantic moment, I do. But I do mean it.” 

“Is this what you say to every girl-”

“I haven’t been with anyone in forever, you know that. Getting a number is different, that’s just me trying to get information Y/N.” Dean speaks, pulling himself further off of you, giving you space. He’s reaching for his bag, trying to find something to cover you with. He finds a t-shirt, carefully putting it over your head. It goes down to your thighs, covering you. He’s snatching his boxers next, he’s gotta have some decency for this conversation. “I love you, Y/n. You don’t have to say it back, but you deserve to know the truth at least.” 

He’s fully prepared to be shut down, given your reaction thus far. You lean forward, and he thinks you’re about to climb away from him, move out of his bed. Your lips softly connect with his, the gentlest kiss. He’s smiling like an idiot into the kiss, almost unable to kiss you from the extent of his smile. “We can’t tell Sammy, he’ll think you’ve lost it.” Dean almost giggles at this, yes, giggles. What has gotten into him? What the actual hell is happening right now? Still, he nods along with you in agreement. 

“We can’t tell Sammy, or you don’t want to tell Sammy?” 

You’re rolling your eyes. “We don’t have to tell Sammy, he’ll know.” It’s the truth, he’ll figure it out before you or Dean even have a chance to tell him. Dean nods again, the faintest of smiles beginning to spread across his face again. It grows tenfold when you’re leaning forward, cupping his face in your palms, and once again kissing him. He’s shaking when you lean forward, forcing his back to hit the bed, your legs soon straddling his hips. You’re fully seated on his lap, legs underneath his body to give you more leverage to plant yourself against him. 

Your hands wrap around his head, pulling him into you. “Dean, say you love me again.” You mumble, diving back in to kiss him. He can barely mumble the words out, speaking with your lips on his the entire time. Not knowing it was possible, you’re kissing him harder. 

“Riling yourself up, pretty girl?” Dean chuckles softly, hands holding your waist snugly. His grip tightens when you grind against him, drawing out a strangled moan. Dean’s head falls back, face scrunching up. He can’t watch you grind against him in his t-shirt, he really can't. You’re so warm it makes him shake, completely bare as you grind against his boxers. You’re soaking through the cloth, he can feel it. He curses his old age in the back of his head, regretting he can’t recover as easily as he used to. You’re not too much younger than him, but it’s still making him frustrated as you’re ready for round 3. 

“Dean,” Your voice comes out as a whine, your body slumping forward as you curl into his warmth. Your hips continue to grind against his, lips running along his skin. You’re fighting off the urge to leave marks on his skin, losing yourself in the feeling of being close to him. 

“C’mon pretty girl, show me what you’re made of.” Dean’s already regretting his words. He knows you’re quite literally going to make him eat them. Your feet remain underneath his body, flexing as you seat yourself more heavily against him. Your hands move all over his body, finally stopping in his hair as you connect your lips with his. Deans losing his mind. He feels his thighs shake when you lift your weight up and reach down, pushing his boxers down past his hips. He assists you momentarily as he lifts both of your weight off the bed for easier removal. “Gonna make me regret my taunting?” 

“You know it.” You almost giggle, and it only solidifies his belief that he will, in fact, eat his words. You’re soaking wet as you make contact with him, easily sliding through your folds as you slowly and carefully rock your hips. Without warning, in one swift roll of your hips, he’s sheathed inside of you all the way to the hilt. 

“Fuck, fuck, goddamn it.” Dean’s head is thrown back against the pillow, muscles straining in his neck with the force he’s exerting. Your hips grind and roll against his, drawing the prettiest moans from yourself. Dean knew this was gonna happen, and yet he’s shocked that it is. “Should’ve, fuck, picked my words better.” 

Dean shuffles against the bed, sitting up so his back rests against the headboard. He easily pulls you along with him, hands securely holding you by the hips. He’s closer this way it feels like, can smell the sex and heat rolling off of your body. Your arms wrap around his head loosely, leaning down to connect your foreheads together. “Wanna cum like this Dean.” Your breath is basically a pant, grinding rougher as you chase whatever high you have left. 

“Do what you want, please, use me.” Dean’s losing it as he leans forward and marks your skin, too fucked out to even think about what he’s actually doing. You’re going to scold him for this later, something he’s almost sure of, but he can’t bring it in himself to care. You’re coming undone embarrassingly soon, clenched tightly around him as your thighs shake gently. Your hips never stop moving, riding out your high long past the comfortable point. “My girl, my good girl,” Dean is cooing, almost babbling when he watches you use him. 

He’s so overstimulated and so worked up it hurts, but he’ll grit his teeth and bare it if it means he gets to have you like this. You’re arguably more overstimulated than he is, legs shaking and small mewls or moans unconsciously slipping past your lips. He’s moving before you can react, your back hitting the bed. His hips pick up immediately where yours left off, pace barely faltering. You’re soaking wet, the sounds sending a shiver up his spine. “You’re so good to me, holy fuck, this is what I've been missing out on for years. Are you kidding me, fuck.” Dean groans, neck burying into your shoulder. 

“I just, fuck, haven’t been touched in awhile. Easily excitable,” You joke, legs moving to wrap around his torso. With the amount of effort it takes to whine that sentence out, he knows you’re lying. He huffs slightly in annoyance, a small smirk on his face at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation the two of you are in. 

“You’re so full of shit,” It’s gruff and harsh, his brows scrunching together with the effort he’s exerting. His abs have never been clenched harder in his life, torso rock solid from the over-stimulation and effort. “Even if you could quiet down and stop whining, you’d still give yourself away.” He teases you, and you know he’s right. “Wanna try it, hm pretty girl? Shhhh,” It’s gentle and soothing rather than rough, despite his situation. He gently shushes and coos to you, eventually getting your whining and moaning to mere pants. Like he said, you still give yourself away with the slick noises each time his hips roll into yours. “Do you fuckin hear yourself? Listen pretty girl, just listen.” 

You’re beyond fucked out, listening as Dean explains to you. Your lips are caught tightly in between your teeth, fighting hard to keep as quiet as you possibly can. Your head is thrown back against the bed, straining as your legs lock around his torso harder than before. “Dean,”

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay. I know, I know. You give yourself away, hm?” He mocks, hands coming to run along your thighs, squeezing the muscle underneath. “One more for me, just give me one more and I’ll clean you up all nice and gentle.” 

“I can’t-”

“Don’t be like that.” It’s soft, but just enough to be patronizing. 

“Please, let’s cum. Last one.” You whine, tightening almost impossibly around him. It’s hard to push in, so overworked and sensitive. Dean’s voice alone works you up more than you ever realized, and having him so close, talking in your ear like this. It’s bad news. Dean’s hips are stuttering as you wrap your legs tighter around his torso, working himself up now. The noises you’re making would be embarrassing if it wasn’t Dean, who’s so beyond into it. Maybe it’s the both of your instincts being heightened from years of fighting fuck knows what, but the front door opening has the both of you immediately stilling. 

Dean has never seen your eyes widen this much, almost comical as you look at him. There’s a wicked smile on his face as he shuffles his arms around, ever so gently placing his hand over your mouth. “Quiet, pretty girl.” Dean’s whispering in your ear, hips slowing just enough to grind into you, clit grinding against his skin. You’re fighting hard to keep quiet, opting to bite down on Dean’s hand instead. He’s hissing softly, repositioning so you bite into the side of his hand. 

“C’mon, give me some slack. Cum for me, please. I need to cum pretty girl, you’re gonna make me cum for you.” Dean swears your eyes are going to roll back and out of your skull and he’s going to be permanently like this with how you’re wrapped around him. Dean’s about to beg, he can feel the words on his tongue. Plead with you, even. His silent prayers are granted when your head throws itself back, your arms moving to wrap around his biceps. With the force you’re holding him, he thinks you’ll leave bruises. He’s following you soon after, hips faltering as he comes undone inside of you. Your legs lock around him and suddenly you’re a bodybuilder with the amount of strength you have. 

Your legs are securely locked, not allowing him to rock anymore, needing no more stimulation. Like you thought, you would be embarrassed with how wet you are if it wasn’t Dean who was the one making you sound like this. “The others are back, I have to go.” You whisper, immediately faltering when your weight settles on your legs. Your bottoms are put on with the help of Dean, who keeps you upright. Too fucked out, your legs are almost unusable as you wobble your way towards the door with bikini top in hand. You have to get going before everyone comes into the back of the house, that you know. 

“You can’t even walk straight.” Dean’s right behind you, trying to keep you up on your feet. He’s trying very hard not to laugh at your condition, but you can hear it in his voice. 

“We can’t scar Sam like this.” You’re trying hard not to giggle, slowly peeling open the door. Dean catches you before you can sprint away from him, yanking you back into his embrace. He's grinning down at you, lips softly pressing against yours. You're distracted, beginning to get lost in the kiss. Reminding you, Dean begins to peel the door open slightly. Once it’s open enough, you’re making a sprint for your room. You hear footsteps soon after you make it to your room, ear pressed against the door to listen. 

“Dean, do I wanna know why I just saw Y/N sprint across the hall in your tee shirt?” 

“No, no you do not.” 

The next case you work, Sam doesn’t mention a single thing. In fact, Sam doesn’t mention anything, ever, even the next morning when you’re awkwardly making coffee in the kitchen while he sits at the kitchen counter. Perhaps you should have asked how he felt about this before you went and created your master plan of you and Baby the other day. You’re sucking in your bottom lip as you’re thinking about how you’re going to bring this up, Dean out for the next half hour or so as he grabs food. 

“Sammy?” You mumble softly, placing a mug of black coffee on the table for him. He won’t drink it with cream or sugar anymore, neither does Dean. 

“Hm?” He asks absentmindedly, thumbing through the newspaper as he reads. He’s not listening to you, you know that. When he reads, he’s entirely immersed in the information he’s processing. He fumbled around for the coffee mug, and you slid it closer to where he’s smacking the table so he can actually find the handle. 

“It doesn’t bother you, right?” You ask softly, waiting for him to process what you asked after he finishes whatever sentence he’s currently on. You don’t have to specify, you already know he knows what you’re referring to. Finally, he breaks his focus from the paper to look at you since you’ve walked into the kitchen and started making coffee. (You don’t know it, but he looked at you to make sure you grabbed his mug as well.) 

He laughs, and for a second you’re disheartened. “Are you serious?” 

“I-what?” You don't know whether to be confused or offended. You were going to genuinely hear him out, but this is not the tone you were expecting. 

“You and Dean have been at each other’s throats since you met. I’m surprised you guys didn’t jump on each other sooner.” He laughs, sipping his coffee and shaking his head softly. He laughs at you more, “You think I would care about that? Oh my god, I’ve never seen Dean run out of the house faster this morning to get you food, wide eyed and bushy tail. I think he thought he was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed.” 

“Fuck, should I go lay back down?” You genuinely wonder, making Sam laugh even harder. 

“You guys are ridiculous. You’re telling me this is the first time? I honestly thought you guys have been hate fucking since we met.” 

“Sammy, pleaseeeee.” You whine, tossing your head back. Sipping your coffee, you want to whine and pout. 

“No offense, but I don't care what the two of you guys get up to. As long as you’re happy and don’t die on a hunt because you’re distracted, it’s not a problem.” 

“Right, right. It won't interfere with hunting, I promise.” You nod your head to him, “But seriously, should I go get back into bed?” 

Sam laughs, shaking his head as he refocuses on the newspaper he’s reading. You don’t, because Dean’s walking into the door soon after your conversation with Dean. Making eye contact, his face falls completely and Sam was definitely correct with his guess of breakfast in bed. Regardless, Dean pretends he just got food and had no other motive. “Breakfast has arrived,” He announces, placing the bags on the table. “What, no coffee for me?!” 

“Oh come on, give me a break. You were nowhere in sight this morning.” You defend yourself, “Not even a BRB note, how was I supposed to know when you were coming back?” 

“Oh, but you’ll make Sammy one-”

“Sammy was sitting in here in the kitchen when I woke up-”

“In the mug you know I like-”

“What?! That’s his mug!”

“It totally isn’t! Just because he uses it more often than I do-”

“OKAY!” Sam interrupts, and he’s smiling like an idiot when you turn to look at him. Nothing has changed between you or Dean, and this just proves that. Sure, you’re eyeing him up like a starved woman, and Dean is trying hard to ignore you in your little pajamas, but nothing has changed between the two of you. “You guys gonna eat or fuck against the kitchen counter?” 

Both you and Dean groan in annoyance, sitting down at the table and rummaging through the bags. After breakfast, you guys go over the main points of the new case you’re working on. The drive makes you want to bash your face into Baby’s window over and over, and you can already feel the tiredness in your bones. You guys start the drive not long after, packing up everything and getting a jump start to the job. 7 hours in and Sam switches with Dean to drive, now in the passenger seat. 

You kick the seat when he leans it back and pins your legs to the backseat, “Don’t make me come back there!” He threatens, to which you stick your tongue out at him. Another seven hours in and you’re switching with Sam, who sleeps in the backseat. 

You and Dean talk in the front. “So, Sammy doesn’t care then?” Dean whispers, and you shake your head no. You’re whispering in an attempt to not disturb Sam, even though you think Sam could sleep through an earthquake. Giving him some type of courtesy, you try to keep the noise down to a minimum. 

“Sammy said he thought we had been, quote, hate fucking since we first met, end quote.” You giggle, glancing over at him with a sheepish smile. Dean is trying awfully hard not to howl laugh right now, and god is it hard. You giggle softly, shaking your head at him. 

“Well, in that case.” Dean shrugs, reaching over the front bench and grabbing the inside of your thigh as you drive. 

“Winchester.” You warn, genuinely warn, as your voice remains low and calm. 

“What? You said he doesn’t care.” Dean mumbles, chuckling softly. Glancing back into the back seat, Sam is passed out. He wouldn’t do that in front of Sammy, but he can push your buttons. Dean slides his hand closer to your hip, slipping down onto your inner thigh further. You give him no reaction, knowing the second you do it’ll only fuel the fire. Dean bites at his lips, trying extremely hard not to laugh at your resolute attitude. His fingers dip underneath the waistband of your shorts, making your hips jolt back into the bench. 

You’re grabbing his hand, ripping it backwards and twisting his arm. “Fuck, I love it when you’re rough with me.” Dean groans softly, a smile still playing on his features. “Okay, okay sweetheart, I hear you loud and clear.” He smiles, pulling his arm free and kissing your knuckles. 

You finally get to the motel after what feels like 2000 years, you driving the last leg of the trip. Sam shuffles into the motel without saying a word to either of you and Dean, still half asleep as he pushes into the room. He’s  falling into the bed and back asleep in no time, and you and Dean share a look. Dean has a soft chuckle, and you giggle when he slides his hand across your thigh, pulling you by your hips across the bench of Baby. 

“No, no, no pretty boy. You made me drive the shitty shift.” You mumble, shuffling so you’re pressed against him. He’s easily manipulated, allowing his body to fall back against the passenger side door. Your legs easily swing over his hips, settling down on his lap with ease. You hate driving at night, and he knows that. “And you’ve been teasing me for the past 20 miles. I’m gonna do what I want, and if you ask nice enough by the end of this, i’ll let you cum, hm?” 

Dean whimpers from underneath you, eyebrows knitting together as you speak to him however you like. When you slam your lips down onto his, he groans into it. You’re frustrated, and annoyed, and slightly angry but not exactly at him. You need an outlet, and Dean is a willing one. Your hips press heavily down into his, using your legs underneath him as leverage to seat yourself against him. Your hands are everywhere and anywhere, running all along his skin underneath his clothes. There’s a whimper that escapes him when you rip off your shirt, not allowing him the pleasure of doing so. 

“This isn’t fair-” You grip his face in between your hands, holding his chin. With the slight pressure, his lips pucker out slightly. You gently peck his lips like this, releasing some of the grip you have on his face. Dean’s hands land on your waist, gently brushing and rubbing along any exposed skin you’ll allow him. 

“Be good, Dean.” You mumble, “You’ll be good for me, hm?” You ask softly, picking your hips up enough to yank your shorts and underwear off in one swift movement. “Let me ride your fingers, baby, get me ready to take you.” You command, voice leaving zero room for disagreement. 

“Yes, yes,” He mumbles absentmindedly, hands shuffling to slip further down your hips. You hiss softly as he makes contact with your clit, well practiced and well trained at this point. He gently rubs along your clit, drawing soft, tight circles into the bud. There’s a small gasp as he slides a digit in, expertly curling and moving in the way he knows you like. You pant softly when your hips grind against him on their own, searching for any touch or stimulation he’ll allow you to have. You chase it like you need it to live, to breathe. And Dean chases the little whimpers and whines as if he’ll die without them. Another digit makes you slump down against him slightly, seeking his warmth and closeness, hips still moving against him. 

“My pretty boy Dean.” You whimper, mumbling partially against his lips as you talk. One of your hands rest behind his head, the other one running your fingers through his hair. Dean reels at the soft compliment, head pushing into your hand as he seeks for your touch. You’re using him like a goddamn toy, and he can’t help but twitch at the thought. He’d let you do anything, anything you ask if it’s from your pretty little mouth. You kiss him hungrily, breaking contact more often than he wants as you moan and pant against him. He seeks your kiss, neck craning up. 

Your hands sloppily fumble with his jean buttons, wanting them off right this second, losing your patience. You push them just below his hips, freeing his cock from his boxers. “Easy, pretty girl, you gotta let me make you cum first.” Dean mumbles, leaning forward to kiss your neck that is burning up. 

“Need you,”

“Need you to feel good, baby.” Dean mumbles, working more feverishly into you to push you past the edge. There’s a boost in his pride when you fall apart against him, arms locking around his head gently as you cum. 

“Dean, wanna fuck you. You gonna let me do that?” You mumble, carefully taking him in your hand. Dean hisses when he slips in between your folds, head thrown against baby for some sort of stability as he tries to compose himself. Cumming when she wants me too, he reminds himself. Your hands are gentle but firm, and dean’s more than aware you’re not giving up your current position on top of him. 

“Gonna let you do anything,” dean mumbles, picking his head up slightly as he watches you line his cock up. He fights to keep his head up, watching as you devour inch by inch of his length. You’re grinning wide when you catch him. 

“Gonna watch me take you? Gonna watch me fuck you, hm?” you pant softly against his lips, snapping your hips down against his. You grind and rub against his his pelvic bone, fully seated against him, tip of his cock rubbing against your cervix. Dean’s head falls back against the door, unable to watch. He can’t watch this without cumming earlier than your word. He groans when you hear the tsk sound as you kiss your teeth, whimpering when you pick his head up. 

“I’m trying to listen to you, don’t wanna cum early sweetheart.” Dean mumbles, biting hard onto his bottom lip. His eyes are half-lidded as he watches you take him, a shiver running up his spine as he tries not to think about anything for too long. You’re so tight, and wet, and just absolutely pulsing around him. He’s sure there’s a pile underneath him from how wet you are around him, his abs clenched harder than he thought possible as he fights off his orgasm. “God damn it, baby. You’re gonna fucking kill me.” he groans, reaching down and rubbing tight circles into your clit. The sharp gasp sends goosebumps up his arms, listening to your soft noises. 

“This is cheating Dean,” You moan, continuing to fuck yourself down onto him. 

“C'mon baby, lemme have it pretty girl,” Dean whimpers, doing his best to snap his hips up against you. Your weight jolts against him, allowing him more room to snap his hips up. He grins, as he finally has some advantage as he fucks into you. When you come undone, it’s shaky and messy, hips slamming down against Dean's to get the movement to stop. His hips continue to rut into you, milking the orgasm for as long as you’ll let him. 

“Being so good Dean,” You coo into his ear, your face burying itself into his neck. Dean's quite literally fraying at the edges trying to hold himself together. He could cry, eyes watering as he screws his eyes shut. 

“C'mon baby, cut me some slack,” He groans, sitting up abruptly to lean into your body. You squeal slightly at how quickly he jostles you around, your legs wrapping around his torso as he moves. 

“I like seeing you so pent up, ‘s cute,” You mumble, holding his head in your palms as you kiss him. Reaching around, you softly pull at his hair, scratching his head where you’re pulling. Your hips grind against him, doing more for you than him. Dean's hands grip your waist and thighs, moving you against him. 

“Wanna be good for you,” Dean groans, leaning forward to bite into your shoulder. 

You smile, holding him gently by his neck as you lean back, taking him with you. He’s groaning into your skin, head falling into your shoulder. “C'mon, want you to feel good,” You mumble, catching his lips gently when his head picks up to glance at you. 

“I do feel good. Feel good if you’re feeling good,” Dean grunts, hissing softly when you push his hips before pulling him back in with your heels. He almost wants to let you make him cum like this, but the shake in your thighs assured him you wouldn’t be able to. “My girl,” Dean moans softly, snapping his hips into you. Your soft mewls spur him on, groaning softly when your hands pull at his hair. Dean's losing it, moaning into the crook of your neck as he buries his face into your skin. 

His weight is pressed entirely against you, elbows digging into the seat on either side of you. You're whimpering in his ear, and he’s been holding off for what feels like years at this point. You pick his head up, pressing your lips to his. The both of you are moaning and panting so hard it’s difficult to kiss, riling yourselves up. “Feels good, Dean, do I make you feel good?” You pant against his lips, legs squeezing tighter around his waist. Your hands are all over him, touching any inch of skin you can, feeling every muscle flexing with the effort of his ministrations. “Talk to me Winchester, my pretty boy.” You moan, one particular thrust sending goosebumps across your skin. 

“I- fuck- can't.” Dean almost grunts, lips never leaving yours as he talks. “ ‘s too good, this pussy, fuck, made for me.” He groans, lips leaving yours to kiss along your cheek and jaw. Your hands settle on his biceps, trying hard to ground yourself here with him. “Never wanna leave it, never wanna leave you.” He groans, pulling you closer by the back of your neck to properly kiss you. “Fuck, please let me cum.”

You hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for you, a giant smile creeping over your face at how good he is. “Cum, Dean. Cum inside me, please, need it.” You mumble, grip tightening to hold yourself against him as he roughly fucks into you, chasing the high he’s been craving. You squeal and jerk under him as he bites into your shoulder, roughly laving over it with his tongue to relieve the pain. You squeeze tighter around him from it, making his hips falter in their place. You’re over-sensitive, beginning to squirm. “Cum, Dean, please, can’t take it.” You whine, tightening almost impossibly more. 

“Fuck, taking it so good. Just a bit more, be patient for me sweetheart.” Dean groans against your ear, thrusts becoming more erratic as he finally lets himself go. Your legs are practically numb as he buries himself to the hilt, cumming inside you. You complain softly as he lazily fucks his cum into you, enjoying the absolute mess you’re making underneath him. 

“Please-” You hiccup, pulling his hair softly. Dean slows, stilling as he kisses you properly for the first time in forever, no longer panting and moaning against you. You relish in it, not rushing as you kiss him back. 

“I think I’ll make you drive the shit shift more often.” He’s smiling, carefully getting you cleaned up. He’s proud of how fucked out you are, pride oozing from his demenor. You have the same pride, knowing the second he touches that motel bed he’ll be out for the night. 

You peck him quickly, not wanting to rile him up again. “Sure, but next time you wont cum.” You giggle, taking off before he has the wit to catch you and pin you to baby again. Running into the motel room where Sam is knocked out, you're in the shower before Dean can catch up to you. You hear a snarky remark from the other side of the door, making you giggle.

[windchesterluver]

Two is better than one

Summary: Sam and Dean discover they’ve both fallen for their childhood best friend—and when you care, you share.

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: inspired by @dulcescorderitas

(This took 3 hours)

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, threesome, no wincest cuz gross, slight praise kink,

Things had changed between the three of you—you could feel it. It had been a year since you last hunted together, and, God, how you missed them. The three amigos, the three musketeers—you were inseparable, stuck together like glue. But then life happened, and you had to pull away. A week ago, you ran into them again while working a case, and afterward, none of you had the guts to say goodbye again. Somehow, everything fell back into place, as if you’d never been apart.

You tried to pretend you couldn’t feel the tension between the three of you. Tried to convince yourself Dean’s lingering gaze was just his way and that Sam’s hugs had always lasted a little too long. You lied to yourself, that you didn’t enjoy the warmth of Sam’s body pressed against yours or that your cheeks didn’t burn when Dean’s eyes trailed your body. But all the pretending and lying crumbled the moment you overheard them arguing.

It was late when you set out to grab some food, but as you approached the motel door, the sound of the brothers yelling stopped you in your tracks. Their words were muffled, but your name rang clear as day. After a few seconds of listening in and your heart pounding you finally mustered the courage to push the door open. The room fell silent the moment you stepped inside, and the tension lingered throughout dinner until it was broken by the sound of your voice.

“I have a case in my hometown, i leave tomorrow” you stated quietly. Your eyes fixed on your plate, feeling the brothers gaze over you. “we’ll come with you” Sam replied calmly. You swallowed hard “It's personal”. Both brothers furrowed their brows, exchanging a confused glance. “Is someone threatening you?” Dean’s tone was sharp, almost accusing. “What? No!” You snapped back startled. “Then what is it?” Sams's tone was gentle and his turned-up brows paired with his puppy eyes made it hard to lie. The more your gaze shifted between the two of them the more you felt yourself cracking. You had barely survived the year without them—how could you possibly survive a lifetime?

“Y/N,” Dean’s sharp voice snapped you back to reality. You bit down on your lip, pushing yourself away from the table. The boys immediately followed your lead, all of you now standing in tense silence. “I can't be the reason you two fall apart” you explained. Their expressions shifted to shock“What?” Dean scoffed. You inhaled sharply, steadying yourself “i heard you t fighting…it was about me wasn’t it?” You watched the boys turn to each other. Dean raised a brow and Sam nodded his head, like they were communicating telepathically.

“I think you’d better sit down for this,” Sam said softly moving toward you. Taking your wrist gently, he guided you to the edge of the motel bed. The mattress let out a faint squeak as Dean sat beside you, his thigh pressed firmly against yours. Sam studied your confused haze, his gaze steady and calm, before clasping his hand over yours. “We weren’t fighting,” he began. “We were talking about how we want you…” He hesitated, his words hanging in the air at the feeling of your hand tightening around his, your eyes fixed with anticipation. “And we’re hoping you wanted us”

Your gaze broke from Sam's when you felt Dean's cold hand rest on your lower back. Your eyes met his, his calm and reassuring expression grounding you. "Only if you want to," he said firmly, slowly inching closer before connecting his lips to yours. When your lips moved against him, he deepened the kiss, his restraint melting away. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, turning you fully toward him, and positioning himself between your legs. Sam softly pulled you to lean against his chest, his hand making their way to unbutton your shirt “Are you ok with this?” he whispered. Dean pulled away to let you respond, you nodded your head “Please” you begged breathlessly.

Dean wasted no time stripping himself of his clothes, before helping you out of your pants while Sam threw your shirt to the ground. “Ready?” Dean asked pumping himself, your eyes already showing how desperate you were with Sam sucking at your neck. You scratched at Sam's clothed thighs feeling Dean push into you. Dean leaned into the other side of your neck, continuing to thrust inside you. Your hot breath and moans against his ear made him let out a deep groan as he quickened his pace.

You were so intoxicated by Dean's movements, that you missed the feeling of Sam's hands sliding between you and Dean's chest, cupping your breast before giving a gentle squeeze releasing a small moan from your wet lips. “You sound so beautiful” he muttered. Dean could feel you arch against him and with a few more deep thrusts, watched you release around him before following. Your Head lay back on the younger brother’s shoulder, weakly looking up at him “Sam” you panted. He quickly passed you off to Dean who distracted you with light kisses around your jaw and collarbone. Your head tilted to the side and eyes locked on Sam undressing himself. you could feel yourself pooling again. Sam pulled you from Dean's arms as he climbed back on the bed, allowing you to hook your arms around his broad shoulders. “I'll be gentle” he spoke against your lips. You shuddered at the feeling of being reentered, your hands reaching up to fist his hair.

Sam’s thrusts were deep and slow compared to Dean's quick and harsh ones, slowly building you up. You didn't think the feeling could get better until a familiar hand made its way between your legs and gentle fingers circled your clit, making you gasp. You turned to see Dean over your shoulder “Hi sweetheart” he smirked pressing his lips to yours. It only lasted a moment when Sam's hand grabbed your face turning you to him “My turn” he groaned before smacking his lips against yours. You could feel yourself reaching your high again, uncontrollably rolling your hips into him. His grip on your hips tightened while he cam into you, your fluids mixing.

“Good girl” he cooed, bringing you down from your high, and softly laying you on the mattress. Your eyelids flickered to the brothers who were on either side of you. “You did so well, sweetheart” Dean praised, brushing sweaty strands of hair off your forehead. “Get some rest, we’ll take care of you,” Sam spoke gently, watching your eyes flicker close. The feeling of gentle lips grazing your skin as you dozed off.

[starzify]

struggle ❀༉‧₊˚

pairing sam winchester x fem!reader

warnings smut | p in v | size kink if you squint hehe

masterlist

With one of his big hands on your hips, Sam watched you try to move up and down on his cock. He just smiled at your attempt, a pathetic one, but he thinks it’s cute. “Struggling?” He said cockily. He slid his thumb over one of your nipples, watching your body respond to him.

“Help me, please,” You begged as your hips slid back and forth, just anywhere for a sense of satisfaction.

“You’re a dirty fuckin’ girl, aren’t you?” He didn’t look away from you, didn’t give you the opportunity to hide from him.

Sam felt much, much better as he pounded into you while you grappled for his arm— or anything to hold on to. He loved watching you twitch and moan when he changed pace, waiting for you to buck your hips forward for him.

“C’mon, princess. Be patient,” He taunted, his cock was all consuming. He shamelessly watched it disappear into your cunt. You reached for his arm but couldn’t find it in you to move; the way he was talking to you, making you feel. It was all too much.

“Yeah, that’s good. Atta’ girl,” He praised as you whined in pleasure. Your body went limp when he fucked you like this, all of your control disappearing so easily with him, “Just lay there like that. Let me use you.”

tags: @urloveada @floralscented @lanadelreyscokewhor3 @ultravi0lence14 @beausling @dollyfiles @figthoughts @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @bluemerakis @haunteres @vampteeths @lacydollette @rafespreciosa @frosttbitessam @drewstarkeyzwhore @checkedoutghost @inspiredangel @pointocean

[wendichester]

Hear me out

Soft smut with Sam for the first time since reader gave birth to their baby

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ baby momma,

summary. the first time in a while ୨ৎ

pairing. sam winchester x mommy!reader

wordcount. 524

notes. i wanted to bang my head against a wall, because sam is so precious. i can't for the life of me ever stop loving this man

The house is quiet, save for the faint hum of the baby monitor on the nightstand. Your little one has finally fallen asleep after a long day, and the peace of the evening feels like a balm to your soul. You stretch out on the bed, exhaustion pulling at you, but it’s a good kind of tired—the kind that comes from love and care.

Sam steps into the room, his tall frame silhouetted by the soft glow of the hallway light. He’s already in sweats and a plain t-shirt, his hair slightly tousled. There’s something about the way he looks at you that makes your breath catch—a mixture of love, admiration, and a spark of something deeper.

“You’re still awake?” he asks softly, sliding into bed beside you.

“Barely,” you admit with a small laugh, turning to face him.

His hand reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch is gentle, reverent, as though he’s afraid to disturb the fragile calm of the moment. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You roll your eyes, though his words make your cheeks flush. “I’m just doing what any mom would.”

“No,” he counters, his voice firm but tender. “You’re doing so much. Taking care of her, taking care of me… You’re incredible.”

You look away, embarrassed, but Sam tilts your chin back toward him, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. “I mean it,” he says softly.

The sincerity in his voice melts something inside you, and before you can second-guess yourself, you lean forward, pressing your lips to his. The kiss starts slow, sweet, but there’s a quiet intensity behind it, a hunger that’s been simmering beneath the surface for weeks.

Sam’s hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer. “Are you sure?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and full of unspoken questions.

You nod, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I’m sure.”

His lips find yours again, deeper this time, as his hands trace gentle patterns along your sides. He’s careful, as though he’s hyper-aware of your body’s changes, but you tug him closer, reassuring him without words.

“Sam,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as his kisses trail down your neck.

He pauses, looking up at you with those soulful eyes. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he says softly.

“It’s perfect,” you reply, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions flooding through you.

The rest of the world fades away as he moves with you, every touch and kiss filled with love and reverence. He takes his time, his focus entirely on you, as though nothing else exists.

It’s not just about physical closeness—it’s about reconnecting, about rediscovering each other in this new chapter of your lives. And when you finally collapse into his arms, your breaths mingling in the quiet of the room, you feel a sense of peace that goes beyond words.

Sam presses a soft kiss to your temple, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

“I love you too,” you reply, your head resting against his chest as sleep begins to pull you under.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume

[dulcescorderitas]

juno

parings: sam winchester x reader

synopsis: one of you is cute, but two tho ;)

warnings: no smut

sam sat on the edge of the bed, his long legs stretched out in front of him, elbows resting on his knees. he had that faraway look, the one he got when his mind was racing faster than he could stop it. you stood by the dresser, watching him, feeling the air between you charged with something unspoken.

“sam,” you said softly, drawing his attention. his hazel eyes snapped to yours, wide and searching, as if he’d been caught off guard.

“yeah?” his voice was quiet, almost unsure, his brows pulling together as he studied you.

you took a step closer, your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. “there’s something i need to say,” you began, your fingers twisting nervously in the hem of your shirt.

sam straightened up, his hands rubbing over his thighs as if bracing himself. “you can tell me anything, you know that.”

you nodded, taking another step until you were standing in front of him. “i want us to have a baby, sam. i want you to get me pregnant.”

his breath hitched, his eyes widening as the words hung in the air between you. “you… you do?” he asked, his voice shaky, barely above a whisper.

you nodded again, your hands reaching out to take his. “i do. i’ve thought about it a lot, and i know it’s what i want. what i need. i need you.”

sam let out a breath, his hands tightening around yours as he looked down, his hair falling into his face. “god, i’ve dreamed about that,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “you, me, a little one with your smile…” he trailed off, shaking his head as if trying to keep himself from spiraling.

you knelt in front of him, tilting your head to catch his gaze. “then why do you look so scared?”

he swallowed hard, his fingers trembling against yours. “because i don’t want to screw this up. you mean everything to me, and the thought of—” his voice cracked, and he shook his head again. “what if i can’t be what you need? what if i can’t protect you, protect them?”

“sam,” you said firmly, squeezing his hands. “you are already everything i need. and i know you’d do anything to keep us safe. i trust you, with my life. with our life.”

his shoulders sagged, the tension bleeding out of him as his forehead dropped to yours. “i love you so much,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“then let’s do this,” you whispered back, your heart aching with how much you loved him. “let’s make a life together, sam. a little piece of you and me.”

he let out a shaky laugh, his lips brushing against your forehead. “okay,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of determination. “okay. let’s do this.”

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis

[deanangel]

Under Heavens Control

pairing: sam winchester x angel reader .ᐟ | minors do NOT interact

synopsis: heavens weapon and a winchester, both destined for something better, yet stuck with each other. unclean and full of sin they meet.

warnings: religious themes , mentions of blood and death (very briefly) , smut p!v unprotected sex (wrap it UP!!) , finger fucking , kissing , cumming inside , cockwarming (if you squint) ..

word count: 1.5k

THE air inside was thick and cold, restricting the amount of breaths one could take. the sound of screams evident in one's ears. crimson liquid staining the concrete walls, metal chains bounding one in place for eternity. despair and death overwhelmed anyone who dared to enter.

heaven to humans was the best place to go to in death. anything you wanted, you would have. it was sickening for you to think about honestly.

locked up and forced to do the angels' dirty work was how you spent your days.

being a weapon was all you knew.

there was no escape even if you tried, the other angels – your 'siblings’ – kept you on a tight leash, always finding a way to fix you when you malfunctioned. 

the children of god were pure, clean, and all things innocent. while you were none of those. rabid, dirty, sinful, and so on is what would be used to describe you. the first to go to war and the last to come back, blood staining your entire being.

you found solace in the ones like you; however, they never lasted long. always being taken away far too soon. warm hands cradle your face as if you were their pet, cooing softly that this is what you were made for. that you didn't need friends, only them. so you stayed, and never fought back. angels were the light, yet somehow you were the dark.

chained down and all alone is how you sat, until the faint sound of footsteps echoed throughout the halls. your breath hitched, awaiting whatever came your way. the voice of another rang into the cell. 

“we need you to go down to earth, a few souls are to be collected…early.”

the booming sound was opposite to the eerie silence you were used to. you knew deep down that this could be your chance to break free, escape from the shackles of heaven that weighed you down. but when push came to shove, you were under their control. trained like an animal, domesticated like a dog to bend to their every word.

watching silently as they unchain you, immediately jumping back like you'd attack. some dogs go rogue on their owners, they're afraid you may be next.

standing up with shaky legs you follow them, shoulders slumped and head low.

“make it quick, we don't need to waste anymore time.” the voice ordered, harsh and direct.

the sound of bare feet pattering against the floors filled heavens walls contrast to the usual heels and dress shoes.

eyes following your form as you trudge through the halls. the prayers of humans wash over you like a tidal wave, ears ringing as millions of voices flood into your mind. yet, you found the power to focus on one. his voice was calming, you could listen to it for all of eternity.

the wind cascading around your form snapped you out of your trance, wings almost failing to set you down safely onto land. it had been millenia since the last time you were set to go to earth. you were here last when lucifer wasn't the devil, instead he was a friend..

shaking those memories out of your head, you focus on the task at hand. 

collecting souls.

the human soul was pure and untainted, it held power that many wouldn't be able to wield. the more souls in heaven, the stronger it was.

it was your job to help make the empire better. it was a shame that they took the souls early, poor people. as an angel you didn't have empathy, but you liked to pretend you did when regarding humans.

the names were engraved into your brain, programmed into your software. that's how they kept you sane. taking you apart and rebuilding you once you showed signs of rebellious behavior.

the suns harsh rays beat down on you; however, it wasn't uncomfortable. the heat was better than the cold dark room you were kept in. taking souls was a rather simple job, but not when the soul was him. the man whose prayers you zeroed in on while in such a weak state.

sighing you made a choice, he would be last. and then – hopefully – you would've gotten over the nagging feeling in the back of your head that he could save you. get you away from their judgmental gazes and harsh orders.

you didn't want to do this, you were an angel. why you? why not capture a demon and make them heaven's pet. 

instead god chose you.

did he get off on this? one of his children being used and crafted to be as vile as the devil himself. it was his sick and twisted way of entertainment.

you didn't dwell on the thought much longer. ‘make it quick.’ repeating in your head over and over. making your way around the world, taking each soul in swift and precise ways.

here you were, standing in front of him.

sam winchester.

his brown hair framed his face perfectly, his entire being ethereal under the moonlight.

from what you'd been told, he was somewhat like you. being injected with demon blood as young as 6 months old, watched and manipulated by demons it was sad really. your hand came down onto his face gingerly. caressing his soft skin with care. a warm feeling filled your body, engulfing you in a blanket of comfort.

sam stirred slightly in his sleep, eyes opening to look up at the figure standing before him. a warm glow emitting from them. their presence was calming, lulling him to slumber. yet, he knew better than to fall for the trap of the supernatural.

“shh, you're safe. i'm here to help.” you cooed softly, copying the way you were spoken to. hand coming up to stroke his hair. he grabbed your wrist to stop you, his touch didn't burn like others did. instead it felt right.

“who are you.” he questioned, his voice rough and hoarse from his previous sleep. your heart fluttered and the warmth came crashing down–harder this time.

“i..i'm here for your soul, sam. heaven's orders.” you couldn't help but admit, something inside you compelling you to do so.

like he had greater control over you than god, than heaven.

his grip tightened and he sat up, bringing you closer to him with a slight tug.

he was beautiful, so beautiful.

sam couldn't help but stare in awe at you. your beauty was unmatched, like a rose in a field of weeds. you stood out. he could tell you didn't want to, he felt something pull him to you. he fully knew that you wouldn't hurt him when he brought his other hand to your face, running his thumb over your bottom lip. his heart melted when he heard the hitch in your breath at his actions.

you were laying with him, soft moans leaving your now swollen lips as he pumped his fingers inside you. your nails dig into his forearms as he lay behind you. “sam..” his name rolling off your tongue like silk. your back arched, deepening his fingers. “just like that, sweet girl..” he whispered into your ear, edging you on. his long, thick fingers hitting that sweet spot everytime. your hips shuddered and bucked against his as your orgasm came down over you.

sam continued his relentless pace as you came down from your high. chest heaving and pants escaping your mouth breathlessly. “y'so good f'me.” he whispered as he brought you closer, slipping his cock into your tight cunt. his arms encased you, but unlike heavens hold it wasn't cold nor painful, it was warm and brought great pleasure. you whined at the feeling of him stretching you out, juices coating his cock until he bottomed out. he kept a slow and torturous pace, keeping you still with his hands so you couldn't move.

“please, please!” you let out, pleading loudly for him to go faster. he gently caressed your hips, his thumb tracing circles into the skin.

soon the sound of skin slapping filled his room, your moans and his grunts echoed through the walls. anyone within a mile radius could hear what was happening, and he nor you cared to mind.

you gripped onto him tighter and so did he, his hold on you was bruising. pushing himself as deep as he could, he came. a warm sticky substance coated your inner walls. tears were streaming down your face. he stayed inside, tugging you so you were facing him, bringing your lips to his in a searing kiss. it was passionate and full of love, not dark and hungry.

you and sam were connected, bound together. not by heaven but by the duality of man.

you were more bad than good, and he was more good than bad. yet, you found solace in each other. both born to be weapons.

one got away, while the other stayed under their holders control. but, that would not happen again, for sam was yours and you were his.

heaven had no control anymore.

authors note: hiii everyonee! this is my first sam smut so please lmk how you feel!! comments are appreciated. i hope its okay because to me its not the best but i had to get it out of my head!!

[studiogrimm810]

Dreams Come True

pairings: (pining) sam winchester x gn!reader, dean is kinda there

summary: the brothers request your help with hunting a djinn and after being under its manipulation, you realize you can't ignore your feelings for sam forever

warnings: angst, graphic depictions of crime scene images, open but happy ending, unspoken feelings

word count: 5,138

A/N: i don't know how to write shorter stories. pls send help, thx

———————

As you pulled into the parking lot of some dingy diner you scanned the area in search for a particularly sparkling Impala that stood out like a sore thumb. Upon the confirmation of the vehicle, you knew Sam and Dean were waiting for you inside. It had been a few months since you'd last seen the brothers and it caused a low churning in your stomach, a sickening curl to your intestines that made you nauseous. You love the Winchesters, you truly do, and you would drop everything if they needed a hand like now, but your problem was in fact that you loved one specific Winchester a touch too much. It was exhausting.

Ever since you could drive, you have been on your own. Your parents weren’t much help to your development, and honestly the only real reason you’re as functioning as you pretend to be is because of your Uncle Rufus who stepped up in raising you. He kept an eye on you when his brother failed but you had always had a sharp sense of independence. So, the second your uncle's friend, Bobby, fixed you up a car to claim as your own, you were gone.

And you pretended it didn’t hurt when Rufus didn’t put up a fight.

The forced and minimal choices of your life lead you to be fiercely independent and taught you not to rely on anyone for a thing. You had your own car, your own way of living, and your own set of personal, strict, rules that you follow to a T.

Rules that come so close to being bent in the presence of one, Sam Winchester.

You force yourself out of your car and through the parking lot to the lightly rusted doors smudged with greasy finger-prints. That’s it, next time you get to choose where you and the boys meet up. Surely the food here is good, and the waitress who is taking Sam and Deans drink order looks kind enough, but being on the road most of your life leads you to have a distaste of cheap and greasy spots where their healthiest item on the menu is probably the tomatoes that top their hangover burgers.

Sam and Dean have sat on the same side of the booth and they both smile warmly as they spot you enter the diner. The stale but warm air laced with french fries and left over maple syrup from breakfast washes over you and your mouth waters at the thought of a sweet dessert topping that’s become socially acceptable first thing in the morning.

Eh, maybe this diner isn’t so bad.

Making your way to their delicately selected booth, your stomach twists in a tight knot again at the sight of Sam. A beautiful splitting smile that cracks his face to allow little beams of whatever the fuck makes him so stunningly happy at this moment is partnered with a trademark dimple threatening to suck you in and never loosen up. You smile back at both of them.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean beams as he and Sam stand in unison to greet you. Dean hugs you first, a firm grip that’s a little too tight because he knows you can handle it and he doesn’t really want to help himself. “Missed ya,” he pulls away to ruffle your hair and you try to glare at him while swatting away his hand but you can’t wipe off the smile these two have infected you with.

Sam is next, wrapping his strong arms around you. “Been too long,” he utters out with a slight groan that often accompanies a hug like this, but maybe it’s also because you can tell he had more to say. His arms are big and encompassing, wrapping around you like a cloak that shields away just enough of the outside hustle and bustle to let it just be you two in this moment. It’s so protected and safe in this moment that you can’t help but reply with an equally weighted echo of, “too long.”

After warm hugs that seem to stop time, the boys sit back in their spots and you take the roomy booth opposite of them. Dramatically stretching out your arms, you shoot them a sly but innocent smile. “Good choice in table, boys. ‘S comfy,” you yawn involuntarily.

“Glad you’re livin’ it up, your highness,” Dean teases, tapping the table idly as the waitress returns. You control the attitude threatening to manipulate your face as Dean gives the poor woman googly eyes masked with a quite dashing smirk.

After a harmony of simple orders, the waitress smiles out of obligation for a tip and heads to her next table.

“How’ve you been?” Asks Sam, and damn him. He just has to keep watching you with eyes that are warmer than the coffee Dean insisted on having this late. You settle in your seat, leaning back and running your nails along the beveled edge of the table.

“Good, same old, same old,” you shrug. It really has been quite boring with you recently. You worked a case a few states over, then picked up a few odd jobs to rake up some money again to get you through another case.

“How’s the Toyota?” Dean looks out into the lot for your white sedan parked across the lot. It had been an inside bit between the two of you, he liked to tease you for sticking to such a confident opinion that your little ‘match-box car’- as he coined it- was in fact a more comfortable and reliable ride than his baby. You really didn’t have such a strong opinion, but for the way it ruffles his feathers, you’d die on this hill.

“As good as ever, and grandpa?” You tick your head to the 40 year old car in the lot. Dean clutches his chest with an offended inhale and twisted look of hurt at the Impalas nickname, gifted by you.

“Immoral,” Dean’s face is straight with a flash of cocky know-it-all holding his chin high.

One day you’ll admit that the common denominator between the two cars would most definitely be the servicer of Singer Auto Parts. The man performed miracles on any old hunk of metal you took him.

“Okay, okay, put the measuring tape away,” Sam chuckled, enjoying the bickering between you two. Dean bit back a ‘they started it’ and just took a far too big gulp of his coffee to shut himself up.

“How ‘bout you two? What made you call me out here tonight?” You ask, looking out the window that overlooks probably 80% of the town that is really only a grocery store, a main street with a handful of vendors, and a couple other buildings that you didn’t take the time to specifically identify at the moment. Sam’s warm smile that tore all eyes from the moon cast high in the sky melts down to his polite not-so-fantastic-news smile.

“We’re tracking a Djinn,” Sam explains, pulling out a few books, topped with John's journal, from his computer bag. He sets out the books and snatches one specifically to flip through and turn for you to look at. You scanned the page: silver, lambs blood, poison, dreams? You had vaguely heard about Djinn before but you never really took them seriously. It was one of those creatures like fairies that just seemed so out of your league that you never put too much time or effort into researching it.

“Thinking it’s going along I-81, collecting victims where it can and bleeding ‘em dry,” Dean explains, his own expression turned serious as well. He tracks his finger along certain lines in the text that highlight an important note: ‘Djinn use a poison through physical touch to incapacitate their victims and keep them in a comatose state as they drain their blood over any given period of time. Djinn often give their victims a false reality that some describe as “too good to be true” to keep their bodies calm, stable, and comfortable in such a neglected state of being.’

“They feed on blood? Like vampires?” You ask, cringing slightly. Although you envision yourself to be a strong, smart, quick hunter, blood is your downfall. You make a point to avoid vamps by yourself for this very reason and the boys know this, so they must really need help if they’re asking for your assistance in a case like this.

“Kinda, yeah. Same diet, different harvesting,” Dean shrugs, making the connection for you that makes you want to gag. You force down a few sips of water to settle the tickle in the back of your throat before continuing.

“So how are you tracking this thing? Like how do you know someone has been its victim?” You ask, wondering what the physical proof left behind on a person was inflicted by such a creature was. Sam shuffles through the stack of literature, pulling out a dull, manilla folder and setting it in front of you.

“It’s sloppy, doesn’t clean up after itself at all,” Sam’s hand rests on the top of the folder, holding it closed so that you don’t open it too fast. “It leaves its victims strung up,” Sam explains, removing his hand but still watching you with a silent warning at the contents behind this thin veil. You open the folder and immediately cringe, your head turning to look away but your glued eyes prevent you from turning too far. The first image is a young woman, probably couldn’t even legally drink, with her wrists tied above her head. She’s dirty, bruised, decayed. An IV still connected her neck to a metal frame next to her that would supposedly host plastic blood bags. “Some Djinn passively feed, others drain to save for later.” You swallow thickly as you realize the IV was to rid her of her own blood.

The thought is sickening.

The image is beyond words.

But you persist. Your now unsteady fingers reach to flip the image, finding a police report behind it. The woman was 19- just a girl. Your chest aches, this really is the hardest part of the job- the loss. Her name was Amani and she was going to college for journalism. She was reported missing when she didn’t show up for her editorial meeting on campus. Her boyfriend reported it. Her parents followed up. There was an image attached, from her and her boyfriend on Valentines Day. She looked so happy and so full of life.

You close your eyes to get a hold of yourself. You swallow down your emotions, opening your eyes again to flip the pages again.

The next picture was of another woman, displayed in a similar manner. Her blonde hair stained with rotted blood and you almost mistook her for a brunette. Smeared makeup lined her vacant eyes and a beautiful necklace rested along her clavicle. Turning the page, you learn this woman's name was Eliza, a 39 year old mother of four. A portrait framed a lovely family. She wore the same necklace and you assume it was a gift from her husband who stood tall and proud next to her.

You closed the folder, unable to take in any more. You nodded lightly, looking between the boys. “I’ll help, just tell me what I need to know,” you state. The hardest thing about this job was also your biggest motivator. Preventing this awful fate from befalling another innocent family.

You felt that it was too late for your own chance at love, life, happiness, but that it was now your responsibility to make sure that was an option for as many people as you could save. You felt it was your one true purpose.

This was something that Sam admired about you, your relentless need to help others. To use your knowledge for the betterment of others. Yet, it was still something he wished you were more selfish with. He could tell the effects that the stories and images of these poor victims had on you but you ignored your own limits and boundaries to fight for those who still stand a chance. It was a horrible hero’s curse, really.

Sam’s smile reassures you, even if it’s the sweet, pitying one that he offers those in distress, because something in the glint that shines in his eyes tells you a truth you want to ignore.

“We can kill it with a silver dagger dipped in lamb's blood. We just need the blood,” Dean pulls out his phone to check his messages. “Which is ready for us, courtesy of Frankie,” Dean tips up his phone as if to cheer. Frankie was another hunter friend in rotation, he wasn’t really someone you would team up with, but you’d accept his tools and supplies anytime.

Sam packs up his stack of books, stuffing them in his bag. “Dean has to drive out about an hour to meet Frankie, you and I can stick back and I’ll catch you up on the lore.” Sam offers, zipping his bag up and shoving it aside.

———

The rain outside was persistent, heavy, and unforgiving. You stood at the motel window, glaring out to your car getting a half-assed wash that it so desperately needs. After packing in as much Djinn knowledge as you could get, you and Sam decided to call it quits for the night and wait on Dean.

“So what’s the plan? Do you know how to find where this thing is going to be next?” You asked, turning over your shoulder to spot Sam who was cleaning up his gun, shiney metal parts lined neatly on a cloth next to him.

“We have a hunch, another woman disappeared from her workplace last night. Amani, the college student, was found in an abandoned greenhouse that no one used anymore on campus. The mother, Eliza, was found in some old stock room at the animal shelter she volunteered at. The woman who disappeared last night, Carmen, worked at a museum as a tour guide. There’s a ruined exhibits graveyard in the basement, I’m betting she’ll be there,” Sam explains, continuing to clean his gun. His hands flow in precise motions over the weapon, cradling it and caring for it like a delicate piece of glass.

“Are we checking it out tonight when Dean gets back?” You ask, moving to sit on the free couch that will end up being your bed. Sam glanced out the window that you no longer silhouette, checking for headlights, before returning to finish reassembling his gun.

“Yep, that’s the plan,” Sam nods, setting the pristine gun on his bedside table and putting away his kit.

Once he’s finished, he stays sat on the edge of the bed, glancing over at you as you pick at the tears in your jeans. You couldn’t get those images out of your head and you itched to save Carmen before it’s too late.

“How’re you feeling?’ Sam asks with kind words that don’t mean to pry but just to chip what he can. He knows how much time you spend alone on the road. You’re such a sheltered and lonely person but he doesn’t want that for you. Sam can see past the tough exterior and into the shell of just a person who craved to be loved and taken care of. He wanted to be that person for you.

“Antsy. Dean should be back by now, no?” You ask, continuously picking at your jeans but gazing out the window once more. Sam follows your lead, nodding in agreement but returning his main focus back to you.

“He’ll be more careful in the rain,” Sam explained, his soft eyes holding room for the tension he captures behind them. “The others had been missing for at least a week before they passed, we have time,” Sam assures, hoping that you don’t stress yourself out too much over this.

“Talk to Bobby recently?” Sam continues, missing the small talk that you two haven’t really shared yet. He can tell you’re more tense than usual, it’s like you’re distancing yourself. You look up from your knees, the messy pit that makes you sick stirring in you yet again as his eyes match yours.

“Last week, just to check in,” you said, offering a suspiciously less amount of information than usual. Your leg bounces against its prop on the coffee table before you.

“You can talk to me,” Sam urges, keeping his eyes on you as you dart from your knees to the window and then to him. You don’t know what’s with you right now specifically, but the tension of the unspoken feelings bubbling under your ribs is becoming a real bitch.

“Just a stressful few weeks, nothing I can’t handle,” you smile assuringly. He can see right through it, but he decides to let it go for now since the familiar rumble of the Impala growls outside, awaiting its two passengers. Sam lets out a defeated breath, standing and grabbing his coat and gun. You jump to your feet, ready to get this show on the road. You slip on your own coat and check yourself over to make sure you have everything you need.

“What’s a little more stress, huh?” Sam jokes sarcastically, making a mental note to keep an extra close eye on you. You scoff a dry laugh, leading the way to the Impala while Sam locks up the room. The ten feet to the vehicle being enough to soak halfway through to your skin.

“Fuckin’ rain!” You exasperated, sliding into the back seat and letting the comforting heat of the Impala warm you right back up.

“Tell me about it, can’t see a damn thing,” Dean complains, his wipers on full blast and his defroster bellowing a low hum through the car that you had to speak over.

Dean’s years and years of constant driving cause for good reflexed and skilled roadwork as he navigates the slick roads, leading you three to the main event.

After a pop-quiz and mostly dried clothes, Dean pulls the Impala around the museum and to the back entrance that neighbors cellar doors that lead straight down. Once everyone is caught up, loaded with the proper weapon, and ready to get soaked again for a measly few feet of travel, they pile out of the car and to the latched and locked doors. Dean skips the pleasantries of Sam simply picking the lock and just shoots straight through the already rusted metal.

Dean descends first, followed by you, and finished by Sam.

The room is inky black and thickly dank, the moisture almost making it difficult to breathe. Echoing drips of supposed leaks from the rain sing around the trio, making it nearly impossible to locate one specific stream. Dean kicks on his flashlight and you and Sam follow.

“Stay close, stay alert,” Dean instructs, going to look up a nearby hall while Sam checks a few closets and you scan the main area for clues. There are dozens of totes down here full with scrapped art supplies, broken furniture, and piles of betrayed books. Nothing is standing out, though, so you follow behind Dean who has progressed up the hallway. Sam watched both yours and his brother's backs.

A loud clunk echos from the opposite side of the basement but the echo makes it bounce around to the main room you three had landed in. Sam jumps to double check to make sure that behind them was clear and Dean retreats from the room to see what’s going on. You shrug at Dean's raised brow and progress further into the hall, taking the lead.

You turn down a corner to find an even longer hallway with more off-shoots that basically make this place a maze. You sigh heavily, dropping your light a tad and look back at the brothers who have closed the distance between you surprisingly fast.

“There's too much ground,” you whisper to them both. Sam’s face contorts into a ‘no way, don't even think about it’ but Dean's interruption stops Sam from speaking his protests.

“They’re right, Sammy, we’ll cover more ground,” he whispers, trying to reason with his brother, “just stay close, no more than shouting distance,” Dean lays it out like he’s your father, but you listen because you trust his judgement. At the moment at least.

You have a hard time being too far from Sam, though. Seeing the aftermath of the Djinns' torment makes the uneasy swirl in your stomach worsen, but this time it isn’t at the ball of nerves that Sam's presence tweaks, it’s the thought of him being strung up there like a piece of meat. You have to rationalize that Sam is a grown man. You have to take a deep breath and assure yourself that he can handle this. After all, it is him and his brother who invited you to this hunt. You were the novice here.

After scanning over a few rooms, you progress further down the hall, and the further you go, you start to hear it. Soft whimpers, like helpless cries, sirening you to a room at the far end of the hall. You know you should grab one or both of the brothers’ attention, but you can’t help yourself. The images flash again- desiccated husks of once lively people dangling like a crude ornament. This has to be Carmen and you have to help her.

Your heart races as you get closer to the cracked door that pours out the skin-crawling whines. As you turn the corner, there she is. You're halted for a moment, frozen as you take in her state. A poor woman with her hands bound above her head and a dried trail of blood staining her temple. She has a similar IV but she isn’t still like you imagined, it’s almost like she’s experiencing sleep paralysis.

The poison is running out. Sam told you about this, you remember. The poison inflicted by touch only lasts so long and the Djinn needs to come back to dose its victim again. The Djinn will be back soon if it isn’t stalking around already.

You really should’ve grabbed the boys’ attention.

It’s too late for that now, though. You fish out your pocket knife, flicking it open and approaching the zip-ties that cinch Carmen's wrists.

“You’re okay, I’ve gotchyou,” you murmur quietly, hoping to god she can hear you just a little bit. Just enough to know that she’s safe now. You look around the room, keeping an eye out for the Djinn. You support most of Carmens weight into your side, stepping cautiously back out into the hallway. You almost make it past the barrier but a low growl from behind you makes you jump.

The figure behind you is a dark frame, shadowy and devoid of any light under the glowing blue tattoos and beams of eyes. It’s like the creature is pure nothingness despite its veins of sapphire lining its figure. As it steps out into the light, moonlight floods in just enough that you can actually see past the light-polluted skin of what looks to be just man. Well, a man that’s almost eight feet tall and glowing like he just stepped out of the Chernobl blast.

Carmen starts to stir, muttering something incomprehensible, but you ignore it because there is no time anyways. You stumble back, the Djinn looming over you. You manage to set Carmen down gently enough to leave while you lead away the creature that lurks closer and you can tell it’s furious with you. You can see it in his eyes. The cool blue that should be a calming, and if anything- dull, color instead pierced through your chest like an alarming red. You take bigger steps back before flipping a table in your path and darting the opposite way.

The piercing metal followed by an angry growl was definitely enough to get the boys’ attention and startle Carmen to be fully conscious again. The brothers call after you, their words dying in their throats as they round the corner to see Carmen on the ground. Somehow, during your short-lived rescue mission, you managed to settle your coat over her shoulders. Sam instantly recognizes that it’s yours and while Dean quickly crouches to her aide, Sam flashes his light to the mess of a spilled table on the floor. A few paint bottles are still rolling along the cement.

“Dean, get her out of here, I’m going after them,” Sam says without looking Dean's way at all. This time it’s Deans protests that go unspoken.

—---

Freshly ground coffee is Sam's specialty after being gifted a gourmet coffee bean grinder for Christmas. Ever since then, he’s gotten up before you, just like usual, but spent the better half of his morning crafting the perfect blend of coffee that you got to taste test along with blueberry and lemon muffins that Dean and Cas brought last time they visited.

Your guilty pleasures usually starred your mornings, overly sweet breakfast items followed by way too much caffeine from many taste-tests, and even a special morning delight from yours truly.

Your mornings were the absolute highlight of your day and a great way to start the day too.

Comfortable footsteps climb the steps outside of your bedroom door, and soon, Sam’s large figure spills through the frame, filtering in like an early sunrise. Sunshine that is hopeful, trusting, blindly accepting of things to come. His eyes rake over your body that’s half out of the blankets due to overheating from the night and he looks along the sleeplines you have acquired on your thigh, up your hip, and stretching out to your lower back. Exposed, lush skin, calling him in like a lustful sin.

“Good morning, my love,” his voice wakes you up enough to smell the mouth-watering blend of fresh coffee and warm muffins. You prop your head up just enough to smile fondly at him as he sits on the open bedspace by your legs. He sets the muffin wrapped in a paper towel on your bedside table along with your steaming coffee.

“What’s the concoction today?” Your sleep-dampened voice makes Sam smile a bit brighter. His hand rests on your exposed leg, running his palm up your thigh, over your underwear and back down.

“I mixed some of that Brazilian blend with the last of the hazelnut dark roast,” he tilts his head so his face is level with yours, still running his lightly calloused hand up your skin, untainted from the survival of The Life. You hummed in delight from the goosebumps that blessed your silky skin and also in anticipation at the mention of one of your favorite flavors.

You close your eyes to stretch and Sam just watches as your body twists to land on your back, but as you go to sit up, his face falls into a grimace as his hand quickly comes up to pin you down. You’re fully alert now, heart racing.

“S-Sam.?” You test, unsure of why he’s acting this way so suddenly.

“N-No, don’t go, you can’t leave me,” he shakes his head, a heartbreaking expression painting his gorgeous face.

“I’m not going-.”

“You need to wake up!”

Another Sam echoes in your head, and your own face contorts in confusion. Your heart is aching.

“Don’t go, please,” the Sam that pins you down begs.

“Please come back to me…”

He sounds broken, scared, so lonely. You shake your head, shoving Sam off of you. He looks offended, hurt. But this isn't right. No, Carmen, The Djinn. No.

No.

The poison.

The facade.

No.

The poison.

“C’mon, you’re okay. You have to be okay,” roughly calloused hands run over your cheek, a thumb tracing under your eye. You’re dizzy and disoriented, but you already can tell that this is what’s real. This Sam is real. The fogginess in your ears clear up as the pattering of rain fills the noise. When you can pry your eyes open enough, you see Sam crouched in front of you. He breathes out a heavy puff of air, a soft laugh escaping his lips. An expression that is strictly joyous lights up his face like a guiding moonlight in the dead of night. The kind of light that exposes the danger of things, and the price at which they come.

It’s the kind of light that floods everything about your dream downstream, carrying away the silly scenario. The kind of life that people like you and him never get.

“You’re okay,” he repeats, but this time he believes it.

A crack of thunder lights up the sky. A shocking mix of light you don’t quite understand. It’s not a beacon you can fizzle down to some self-justifying reason because it’s just a simple flash of electricity. It’s a crack in the storm above. It’s not some metaphor to make you feel better about your choices. It is a singular bolt that shatters through the night sky, starting you because you didn’t expect it.

Just like you didn’t expect the man in front of you to be the man that he is. He isn’t some ignorantly blissful lazy morning, and he certainly isn’t some moody, grey reflection of light that pulls at your dread. He is simply the split second vein of light that came out of the nowhere storm that is your life. But unlike the crackle of light in the sky that disappears before it’s even heard, he’s not flickering away because he found his conduit that will house his stay.

It’s him.

It’s you.

And you realize that you’ve been a fucking fool.

You push up to hug him tightly, eyes wide and heart still racing.

“Sam.” His name blesses your lips for the first real time. This time you’re accepting it, you’re allowing it.

His arms secure you close and he buries his face in your neck, taking in your scent. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment the boundaries between you two broke, but you knew they were crumbled to dust by the way he held you.

One of his hands wrapped all the way around your back to rest against your ribs on the opposite side and his other cradled the back of your neck.

This wasn’t a hug out of just a close call, this was a hug that made up for lost time. It wasn’t just the rush of saving your life, it was the flood of allowing yourself to feel what you so desperately have been hiding for too goddamn long.

This was a brand new hug with murmurs of brand new names and a brand new set of rules for the both of you.

This was the start of you.

———————

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>pictures are not my own, i have the originals linked here (pinterest) >>check out my other works here

[spicyspiders]

Sam x Reader smut where they finish researching for the night but Sam’s frustrated over not having found something, so his bf gives him a little pamper and stres relief before bed. Aftercare appreciated! Praise kink ++

There isn't really any aftercare, but I hope you still like it.

“You sure you don’t wanna come with me?” Dean asked from the doorway, one foot already out the door.

You shook your head, “nah, I’ll just stay here.” You were happy to stay at the motel with Sam and research, but one of the things you didn’t like was the old books you would have to find to see if they had what you were looking for. There was just something about the old book dust that made your skin crawl and made you immediately want to wash your hands with the hottest water and the strangest soap you could find. 

“Make sure Sam doesn’t get up to any trouble,” Dean replied, his eyes flicking over your shoulder where Sam sat hunched over a book.

You stood up straight and raised a hand to your forehead, “yes sir,” you said, saluting the man.

The laugh Dean let out grew louder when you say his eyes look back over your shoulder again. You looked back but quickly turned back around at the sight of Sam’s glare. Your hands were still kind of damp from washing them, making you wonder if you ran them down the outfit Dean put together to go to the bar and dry them, it would make Sam smile. 

Dean clapped a hand on your shoulder before he was out the door, the sound of his laughter following him.

You locked the door as you could hear the rumble of the Impala outside. You hoped Dean remembered to take the key to your room with him. 

“You could’ve gone with him, you know,” Sam said softly, looking down at the book. His hair was the longest you’ve seen it, nearly past his eyebrows in a shaggy mop. It was always so soft each and every time you ran your fingers through it.

“And watch Dean flirt for hours on end?” you asked, pulling a chuckle out of Sam. You walked up to stand beside his chair, one of his arms wrapping around your waist so he could pull your body against his, “still haven’t found anything?” You questioned softly down at him, one of your hands brushing the brown strands off his forehead. 

The action gave you the perfect view of his eyes as they gave you that sad, puppy dog look, you’ve grown fond of. “No,” Sam responded gruffly, his voice full of frustration.   

“Let’s take a-”

Sam moved away, your hand falling from his hair, “don’t,” he said, looking back down at the book.

It broke your heart a little when you felt Sam’s arm loosen around your body, “Sam,” you tried again, “we’ve been at this since the sun was up and now it’s nearly midnight.”

A few moments of silence went by before Sam finally responded, “I know,” he breathed, holding his face in his hands, “I’m just,” his hands fell away, “frustrated,” he said down into the pages of the book, like if he spoke to them, they would magically give him the answers he needed. 

“I know,” you reach for a bookmark on the motel room’s desk. You thought it was going to break earlier when Sam set down all of the books he checked out from the local library, and the old wood made a noise of protest from just closing the book that sat in front of Sam. “Let’s take a break until the morning,” you said, grabbing at Sam’s arm to get him up from the chair and away from the desk, like you were afraid it was going to break any minute and all of the books would come crashing down on his lap. 

“Sit,” you told him as you guided him the few steps to the edge of the bed you would be sharing tonight. Sam looked up at you expectantly, fixing you with that same puppy dog look. You let out a small laugh and leaned down to press your lips to his softly, feeling satisfied upon pulling away and seeing Sam’s smile. 

You head to the bathroom to turn the shower on quickly, knowing that you probably didn’t have much time with hot water. Yeah, at least you had a place to sleep while on hunts, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t complain about the showers in these cheap motels. 

To your delight, Sam was already halfway undressed in the few minutes that it took you to turn the shower on. You just hoped that you wouldn’t be too distracted by the skin on display to get the clothes you would change into after your shower. 

“Hey,” Sam said, his head snapping up to look at you, “I- uh, wanted to get a headstart,” his fingers paused from where they were unbuttoning his jeans, his face growing red.

“Don’t let me stop you,” you murmured, laughing softly as you went to grab your clothes and definitely did not steal a peak at the trail of hair that led into Sam’s jeans.

On your way back to the bathroom, the clothing and towels you need in hand, Sam follows hot on your tail. You place your pile of clothes onto the toilet seat before helping Sam get the rest of his clothes off. 

The shower sure as hell wasn’t made for two people, let alone a man that towers over six feet tall and is broad and well built, but you make it work. And make it work in the best way possible you did. 

Through the steam, your lips found each other in a heated kiss that was as warm as the water cascading down your bodies. Like you had anywhere to go in the tight space, Sam held your body flush against his. His tongue mapped out the cavern of your mouth like he wasn’t already all too familiar with it already. 

The kiss breaks with a moan, the sound bouncing off the walls. You weren’t even sure who made the noise, but another soon follows the first when you grind your hips forward. The water made Sam’s skin slick and warm, making it easy to repeat the motion over and over again. You’re tempted to push your cock in between the slick channel of his toned thighs, but you knew you had Sam to gladly take care of.

Or better yet, an idea popped into your head to have Sam take care of the both of you. Not knowing how long you had alone together, you had to be quick. 

You pull away from yet another kiss, nipping at Sam’s bottom lip when he tries to follow. You grab one of his hands and move it between your legs, “good boy,” you say loud enough for Sam to hear over the spray. 

Pleased with yourself, you watch Sam bite his lip and hear the sound of his low whimper over the rush of water hitting the wall. “That’s good, Sam,” you moan as he strokes your cocks together with his broad hand. 

Your lips meet in a wet kiss, tongues tangling together a second later. Once pulled away, you lean forward to wrap your lips around one of Sam’s nipples. You hoped you weren’t going to be kicked out of the motel for noise complaints when you hear the sound of Sam’s moan, the loud noise echoing off the walls. 

Sam’s other broad palm makes its way to the back of your head when you move onto the other. You moan around the nipple in your mouth when Sam picks up the pace, the vibrations rumbling the sensitive skin around your lips. 

You pull off his nipple with a gasp, feeling the tell-tale sign of your orgasm building, “Sam,” you say in warning. “Making me feel so good,” you moan, your hips pushing into the hand around your cock. 

“Yeah?” Sam asks, his voice high with pleasure, “m’close,” he moans, his hand tightening around your cocks. 

You bite into the meat of Sam’s pec to muffle your loud moans when you cum, the mess of it being washed away down the drain. You run your tongue along the skin, trying to soothe the redness your teeth brought to the surface. 

You feel Sam’s body jerk against your tongue moments later, his hand going still as he shoots ropes of white between your bodies. He wraps his arms around your body to pull your bodies flush, resting his weight on yours. 

Sam’s body stays lax, making it easy to clean him off with the cheap motel soap. You’re careful when washing Sam’s sensitive cock, cleaning it with soft strokes of your soapy fingers. 

The water starts growing cold once you’ve moved onto cleaning your body, “fuck,” you hiss when it hits your skin. 

Sam’s hands moving around your body protectively. He pulls you into his broad chest, his hands running along your body to get you both out as fast as possible. 

“Come on,” Sam says once you’re both clean, his teeth chattering softly.

Toweling off could’ve gone quicker, but it’s hard to do when you’re stealing quick kisses. Drying Sam’s hair ends up being your favorite part, making you laugh at how messy his hair looks after you’ve pulled the towel away. 

You try your best to style it in the way Sam likes once you’ve pulled your clothes on, but end up messing it up once more when you pull him in by the hair for another kiss.  

[underthewaterlily]

You Are in Love✰⋆✰

(Sam Winchester x reader)

Summary: Some confessions are louder than words.

Warnings: None! Just a fluffy confession between two idiots in love!

A/N: Lyrics are from "You Are in Love" by Taylor Swift

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆

You can hear it in the silence.

During quiet evenings, you and Sam usually spend your time together researching in whatever motel you're staying at. Stacks of books and various pages of notebook paper surround you both as you work. You loved seeing Sam in his element. His usually stiff shoulders are slumped in relaxation, and the yellow lightbulbs the motel installed bathe him in golden light as he reads. You can't help but steal glances at him every few minutes over your book's edge.

You can feel it on the way home.

After a long hunt, you, Sam, and Dean ride back to the motel in comfortable silence. The only sound filling the air was your chattering teeth. It was a particularly cold evening, and you spent most of it hunting outside. You brought your knees up to your chest to try and accumulate some heat. Sam notices you freezing in the back seat and shrugs off his jacket.

"Here." He says, offering the jacket to you.

"Thanks." You take the jacket and drape it over you like a blanket, your face heating up at Sam's kind gesture. The hum of the Impala's engine and the warmth from Sams jacket lulls you to sleep.

For the rest of the ride to the motel, Dean teases Sam for breaking his neck every couple of seconds just to look back at you.

You could see it with the lights out.

All too often on hunts, lights flicker and extinguish their glow due to a supernatural presence. In these moments of darkness, you and Sam gravitate to each other. It's an unfightable urge to be near one another to ensure safety. When something slams a door down the hallway, you quickly reach up and grasp Sam's bicep, pulling him close. You're so afraid that he might slip away from you in the darkness. When the lights flicker back on, you both sheepishly separate from your shoulder-to-shoulder position, retracting your hand from its position on Sam's arm.

You're in love.

Sam always knew he cared for you, but now he realizes he feels much more than that. He loves you. mind, body, and soul he loves everything about you. You and Sam sat on a park bench, waiting for Dean to pick you up in the Impala. Sam wants to say something. He wants to give you a grand confession of his love, but his mouth is impossibly dry with nerves.

True love.

So, instead, he simply grasps your hand in his and gives your palm a squeeze. He expects you to ask him what he's doing or even to pull your hand away, but instead, you squeeze his palm back, gazing at him with the same warmth he feels for you.

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆

Bonus:

You were both too distracted to realize that Dean had pulled up to the bench and was watching. That was, of course, until Dean ruined the moment by laying on the horn.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, pissed that his brother was inturropting

"Took you two long enough!" he replied, laughing.

[cherryeclipses]

first love 🤍 sam winchester x reader

Sam Winchester x Reader - minimal use of she/her pronouns. Fluff, young love, angst. Very minimal use of Y/N. Unedited This is my first fic in almost 6 years...I'm not a Sam girl so I hope this isn't too OOC

★ ˚⋆

At 5 years old my mum was murdered, by the time I was 6 dad had dedicated his life to hunting the thing that killed my mum. By 13 my dad was hunted and killed by the very same demon. I had to start a new life under the care of dad's very good friend Bobby. Life at Uncle Bobby's was fun, once you got used to the smell of stale whiskey and old books. He took me in as his own as soon as he heard the news of my father's passing, I was now his little girl who he swore to protect with his life. This meant being homeschooled and learning to shoot a shotgun, but none of that mattered when John Winchester brought his sons, Sam and Dean to stay when he went on longer hunts. Sam and Dean were my best friends, nobody understood me more than them. I would spend my mornings with Dean, who taught me everything there is to know about monsters and how to kill them. My evenings were spent having movie marathons or reading side by side with Sam. Over the years I found myself falling in love with Sam. What started as a close friendship slowly turned into an infatuation with the younger Winchester brother.

˚⋆★ ˚⋆

"I can only see the Big Dipper, I'm giving up."

"No no, look here." Sam laughed, grabbing my hand to point at another cluster of stars. "That's Orion the Hunter and over here, those three stars make up Orion's Belt." He exclaimed, dropping my hand. We had been laid on our backs stargazing for the past hour, I turn my head to look at Sam. His face illuminated by the stars, he looks ethereal, I just want to reach over and kiss him. But I can't, I mean I could but he would definitely find it weird. Surely he thinks of me a sister. I'm brought back to reality when I realise Sam's also turned to look at me. "You ready to head inside?" He asked. "I should probably get some sleep, I think dad will be back tomorrow." "Sure." I say softly, I hate when the boys leave. I love my Uncle but it can get lonely with just the two of us. The comfortable silence lingers between us for a few more seconds before we both go to our separate beds for the night. That's all it ever is, lingering stares, accidental touches and the aching in my heart.

˚⋆★ ˚⋆ make ur own timeline, a few years or months later.. ˚⋆★ ˚⋆

It was a rainy afternoon, Bobby is away on a hunt for the weekend when there's a knock on the door. Shotgun filled with rock salt bullets in hand, I cautiously open the door. "Sam?!" "Hey, I'm sorry to come over unannounced, I should've called -" before he can finish his sentence I'm ushering him inside, my arms wrapped around him in a warm embrace. "It's been too long, you never have to announce yourself" I laugh as he hugs me tighter. I take a second to look him up and down, "what's wrong?" I ask, taking a step back. "Nothing's wrong, I just had to come see you. Is Bobby here?" "No, he's helping Rufus this weekend. You never have to see me, so what's up?" "Okay, you're right. Um I've decided to go to College." He says quietly. "That's great Sam! It's what you've always wanted." I go to hug him again but sense something is off, he's too quiet. "Isn't it?" I push. "It is, it is. But it's not just that, I want to move away from this life, I want to start new, have a normal life." I finally realise what this is, it's goodbye. After several minutes I finally find something to say, "I know you want a normal life, but we can still be friends in your new normal life. I'm not even a hunter!" He smiles sadly and just shakes his head. "It's not like that, you know it's not. Maybe we will stay in contact, I just wanted to say goodbye in person." Knowing that Sam hasn't been home in awhile, this couldn't have gone over well with John or Dean, I put my feelings aside and embrace Sam in a hug. His warm, strong arms wrapping around me, it feels safe. A small tear escapes me, he'll go off to College, become the highest paid lawyer in the US and marry some hot blonde, I can see it now. Me, Bobby, Dean, all in his past. As if Sam can hear my worries, he tilts my chin up so I'm looking at him. Not wanting to get my hopes up, I start to break away from the hug but Sam leans down and our lips connect in a soft, passionate kiss. It is everything I'd dreamed of, his lips were soft, he smelt delicious like sandalwood and sea salt. His warm hands move to cup my face and I melt. My hands make their way to his hair, still damp from the rain outside. Just as I'm ready to risk it all, he pulls back. "I've been waiting so long for this." He breathes. I can't reply, I'm too stunned, so I just kiss him back, harder this time.

Somehow, we make it to my bed, clothes flung across the room. It's embarrassing to admit that this is the night I've dreamed of for so long. The sunlight peaking through the window wakes me up in the morning, I roll over and realise I didn't dream it last night. My childhood crush is in my bed, naked. The sunlight bouncing off his toned body, disheveled hair strewn across his face. I cuddle into his side, ignoring the fact that this is meant to be his goodbye.

˚⋆★ ˚⋆ a few years later

"Eric, stop giving out free drinks, those girls will never call you and you're making my business go broke!" I smack the dark haired boy over the head. "Yeah yeah, I heard you the first time." He mumbles sheepishly. It's been a year since I inherited the bar from an old hunter and made it my own. It's my pride and joy, running a business and making an honest living. "2 beers please gorgeous." My heart pounds in my ears, I'd know that deep voice anywhere. "Dean Winchester." I breathe, turning around to see the 2 Winchester brothers sat at my bar. "The one and only." Dean winks as I hand the boys their drinks. "Hi" Sam says shyly. I pretend not to hear him. "So, what awful thing brings you back to Sioux Falls?" "The usual." Deans says dryly, taking a sip of his beer. "Still looking for that damn gun." I'd heard all about his search for the Colt and yellow eyes. "Y/N please can we talk?" Sam pleads. "Of course we can talk Sam." I say snarkily. "I didn't know you had taken up hunting again?" He sighs, "it's a long story, have you got a break soon?" He gives me those damn puppy dog eyes, I want to give in and tell him it's okay and I still love him. But I can't, he gave me false hope. Adoring me, right before leaving for College and never speaking to me again. No he's going to have to work a lot harder if he wants me to be friendly with him again. I narrow my eyes at the youngest Winchester, "No I don't, now if you boys will excuse me, I've got a business to run." With that I turn and make my way to the back of the bar but not before telling one of my girls that those cute brothers at the bar can have anything they want, on the house.

"What's her problem?" I hear Dean chuckle to Sam.

★ ˚⋆

Should I make this a series or maybe write this from Sam's POV??? I hope it was okay!!!! Sorry to rush the ending.

[rainroses45]

۶ৎ Disease ۶ৎ

۶ৎdescription: What if Dean didn’t go to hell but Sam did…and he finds him a little sinner who knows exactly what he needs (Sam Winchester x Demon Fem!Reader) ۶ৎa/n: I love this song so much and i wrote this at 2:36 am and i barely finished decorating it..umm oh my friend bella is here and she says hi :) (NOT EDITED) ۶ৎsong inspo: Disease - Lady Gaga ۶ৎwarning: blood, chains, hell, sam is a bottom? does that count i don’t know, YALL BETTER THANK YOUR LUCKY STARS @lovelolaslove WAS NICE ENOUGH TO WRITE A NSFW SCENE CAUSE I WAS NOT (handjob you know the rest)

The room swayed like a phantasmagoria, everything around him distorted, flickering in and out of focus. His breath comes in quick, shallow gasps, his body trembling with the fever of longing. He's so close-he can almost feel her, taste her. The chains are still there, but they feel weightless now, like a distant memory. All that matters is the figure dancing in his mind, the phantom he can never escape.

"I could be the doctor," her voice purrs through the fog of his mind, "I could cure your disease, baby." The words are a soft coo. Promises laced with sin and dripping with his ecstasy. She is in his head now, tangled in his thoughts, her presence overwhelming him, teasing him, haunting him.

He's slipping, drowning in the delusion of her. Like a sailor being lured to a sirens call, his mind was wrapped around her waiting for her to take a bite out of him. Let her suck his blood up with a simple kiss, and devour him in a single gulp.

He jerks his head toward the sound of her voice, but all he finds is darkness. He reaches out-his fingertips grazing nothing but air. The room is empty, cold. The only sound is the rustling of chains, as he tries to reach his lady in red.

"Eyes rolled back in ecstasy..." her voice echoes again, but this time, it's just a whisper.

It's everywhere, pressing against him, suffocating him.

He can hear it in every beat of his heart, feel it in the thrum of his pulse. His body aches, feverish, desperate for her to appear. He can't see her, but he feels her like a flame licking at his skin, like she's all around him, just out of reach.

He moans, his body fighting against the chains, desperate to break free, desperate to be closer to her. "Please," he breathes, his voice low, hoarse.

"Please, I need you... cure me... cure me, baby..." His mind spins further, caught in the pull of the delusion that she's real, that she's right there, waiting to save him.

But she's not there. The silence is all-consuming, the room colder than ever. He shivers, eyes squeezed shut, as the words twist in his head.

"I can smell your sickness... I can cure your disease," she murmured her voice now a seductive, taunting hum. It cuts through his thoughts, cutting deeper, driving him further into madness. The weight of her words presses down on him, squeezing every ounce of clarity from his brain, until there's nothing left but the desperate need to feel her, to be healed by her love. To be fucked by her.

He opens his eyes, blinking furiously, trying to find her, but it's no use. She's not there, and yet she is, like a dark shadow looming over him. "Where are you?" His voice is shaky, filled with the quiet madness of someone losing their grip on everything they once knew.

"Where are you? Please... I can't... I need you..I need you to help me!"

The air is thick with the scent of him-sick, broken, desperate-and it's almost like he can taste the sickness in the air, feel it on his skin. But she's not there to save him.

Her voice is a whisper, soft and insidious, like a poison seeping into his bloodstream.

It wraps around his mind, pulling him further into the madness. Her presence is a weight on his chest, a comforting pressure he can't escape. A pressure building up way below his mind, a pressure so tightening it caused him to shift against the chains in need for some sort of friction.

"Lay me your desire," she purrs, the words curling around him like smoke. "I could cure your disease." The way she says it-cure-like it's more than just a word. It's a promise. It's a spell. It's everything he's ever wanted.

His body twitches at the sound of her voice, aching with the hunger for her touch, for the mercy she offers, even though she's not truly there.

His hands strain against the chains, aching to break free, to reach out and touch her. He's lost, consumed by this hallucination, and yet, somehow, he craves it more than anything, “Please..." he gasps, his voice barely a whisper, laced with longing.

"Please... cure me..."

She laughs softly, a sound that feels like silk against his skin, and her voice drops lower, more seductive, as though she knows exactly how to push him over the edge.

"If you were a sinner, baby," she says, each word dripping with promise, "I could make you believe."

The air shifts, and he shudders at the thought, imagining her fingers trailing over his skin, tracing the sins he's buried deep inside. She knows. She knows everything. He doesn't even have to tell her. She sees him. All of him.

"I know all your secrets," she breathes, her voice so close now, it's like she's right behind him, her breath hot against his ear. He turns his head, but still, there's no one there. His heart hammers in his chest, his mind reeling from the intensity of her words.

The silence presses in, thick and suffocating, as the delusion begins to consume him entirely. She knows everything about him.

Everything. His sins. His desires. The things he's hidden away in the dark corners of his soul. She's the one who sees through it all, who can make it all better, can make him whole again.

His breath comes faster now, erratic, like he's drowning.

She's going to fix him. She's going to cure him. All he has to do is let go.

"I'm yours," he whispers, his voice trembling with raw need, the chains rattling softly as his body shudders under the weight of her imagined touch.

"Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. Please... cure me... make me believe."

Her laugh dances through his mind, light, almost like a lullaby. "I already do, baby," she purrs, her voice curling around him like velvet. "I always have."

She knelt in front of him, her nails raking lightly against his chest, trailing down to hover just above his sternum. He tenses slightly, eyes filled with desperation, he watches her with lidded eyes, mouth slightly open, as she palms him through his pants, leaving him a pathetic mess.

“Please, please…” she smirks. “Please what?” She continues her ministrations and Sam feels as though he could tear through the chains keeping him from touching her if it meant he could get her to touch him more.

He whines slightly, “please touch me— touch me more, please” as he speaks her hands make there way into his pants, dragging them down, and she wraps them loosely around his cock, stroking until a steady trail of pre cum oozes from the tip.

“But darling, i am touching you, don’t be so greedy.” She tsks.

Sam is already shaking his head, “no—ngh— not enough, please baby please… i’m begging you” his temptation pouts playfully “oh alright, since you begged so nicely” her hands tighten firmly around his cock, tugging and twisting until Sam is a whimpering mess, his hips thrusting into her hands for more friction.

“Yea, you like that baby? like my hands around your cock?” Sam nods, beads of sweat dripping down the side of his forehead and he looks down at his little devil, watching the way she has a slight smile on her face as she strokes his cock. “I- i’m close baby, please..” she looks up at him, pouting. “So soon? that’s alright, come for me baby." She gave a quick kiss to the pink tip before increasing the speed, hand tightening around his tip, thumb gliding over it, and Sam?

Sam can’t take it anymore, he cums with a groan, eyes shut as if in pain though he is far from it. His cum splashes onto his chest. His body shudders as he comes down from his high. She watches him closely, movements slowing until she removes her hand, licking the remnants of what she did to him clean.

“Oh baby," she moaned. "I hope you got more in you cause you are simply delicious.” And oh- sweet lovely Sam prayed he did.

PLS GO SUPPORT MY FRIEND SHE HAS SO MANY DRAFTS OF ONESHOTS SO GO FOLLOW AND LOVE HER STUFF SHE IS AMAZING @lovelolaslove

[moonandst4rs]

"Oh, take me back to the start"

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Warnings: no use of y/n, platonic, gn!reader x Sam and Dean Winchester

A/N: Any feedback and requests are welcome !! This is another one of my c.ai bots, my username is @/Moon_And_St4rs if anyone's interested.

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Sam, Dean, and you sit around the war table in the bunker, the flickering light casting shadows on the ancient maps spread across its surface. You all sat in silence, lost in your thoughts, the kind of quiet that only comes from years of knowing each other so well.

Dean, leaning back with a beer in hand, was the first to speak. "Man, remember when things were simple? Just us, a few hunts, nothing crazy. No apocalypse, no cosmic disasters."

Sam smiled faintly, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Yeah, I miss that. We were always on the road, but it never felt this heavy. You kept us grounded," he said, glancing at you. "Reminding us to slow down."

You chuckled softly. "I don’t know how I kept up with you two. But we did have some good times, even when everything felt like chaos."

Dean nodded. "Funny how back then we thought we had the world on our shoulders. Turns out, those were the easy days."

Sam sighed, leaning forward. "We didn’t know it, though. Always chasing the next thing, thinking that once we got through it, we’d be free."

"But that freedom never came, did it?" you added. "We kept moving, kept fighting… and somewhere along the way, we lost that simplicity."

The three of you sat in the quiet again, reflecting on the years that had passed. You had faced demons, monsters, even gods, yet it was the small moments you missed the most—the long drives, the late-night conversations, the fleeting sense of peace between battles.

Dean looked up at the stars now appearing in the sky. "If I could go back, just for a day, I’d relive one of those nights. No saving the world. Just us."

Sam nodded, his voice soft. "Me too."

You smiled, your heart heavy with nostalgia. "We had something special, didn’t we? The world was still dangerous, but we always had each other."

Dean raised his beer. "To simpler times."

You all clinked bottles, and for a brief moment, it felt like you were back in those days—just the three of you, and the world was quiet again.

[wendichester]

Hiii! I love your blog <3

May I request Sam and Dean x reader (could be together, could be sepperate, I don't mind, as long as it's with established relationship) where reader has a few piercings and always wears like lots of rings and bracelets and does her own nails constantly?

I was thinking for piercings like, a bunch in the ears, either angel fangs or snake bites (I'm a sucker for lip piercings), tongue piercing, maybe even a septum?

Tysm!!

⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 pierced,

summary. just another day at the bunker being cooler than sam and dean combined together

pairing. dean winchester x reader x sam winchester

wordcount. 418

notes. i just feel like an oc like this would leave them fumbling and stumbling over their feet. such cuties

The sound of metal clinking against metal fills the bunker as you slip on your favorite rings, stacking them on nearly every finger. A collection of bracelets dangles from your wrists, jingling softly with each movement. You’re sitting cross-legged at the war room table, carefully painting your nails a deep, glossy black, utterly focused on the task at hand.

Dean leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with an amused grin. “Y’know, sweetheart, you’ve got more hardware on you than my car.”

You smirk without looking up, blowing lightly on your freshly painted nails. “And I wear it better, too.”

Sam chuckles from his spot at the table, where he’s buried in research. His eyes flicker over to you, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “It’s impressive, honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without at least five rings on.”

“Seven, actually,” you correct, holding up your hands to show off the intricate silver bands adorning your fingers.

Dean pushes off the doorframe and walks over, tilting his head to examine you more closely. His eyes linger on your lip piercings—the angel fangs glinting in the light—and the small hoop in your septum. “Doesn’t all that metal get annoying?” he asks, though his tone is more curious than critical.

“Nope,” you reply, popping the “p” as you set down the nail polish bottle. “I like how it feels. And it looks cool, right?”

Dean’s eyes narrow playfully. “You fishing for compliments, or what?”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair with a confident smirk. “Maybe.”

Sam snorts, shaking his head. “She doesn’t need to fish. You’ve been staring at her like she’s a shiny new toy since she sat down.”

Dean shoots him a glare. “Yeah, well, you’re not any better, Mr. Puppy-Dog Eyes.”

Your cheeks warm slightly, but you roll your eyes to cover it up. “You two are impossible.”

Dean grins, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, careful not to smudge your freshly painted nails. “And you love it.”

You can’t help but laugh, swatting at him lightly. “Lucky for you, I do.”

“Alright, lovebirds,” Sam says, spinning his chair around and sitting on it backward. “How about you finish your nails, and we grab a beer after? I think we’ve earned it.”

You smile, picking up the nail polish again. “Deal. But don’t think this gets you out of complimenting me later.” You playfully glare at Dean.

Dean smirks. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume

[dulcescorderitas]

hiiiii! i hope you’re doing great 🩷 i was wondering if u could write about dean and/or winchester (it could be romantic or platonically), and reader, despite being a highly skilled hunter as them, she/he/them have a extensive skincare routine 🧖🏿‍♀️ and tons of products and also has candles 🕯️ to aromatize whatever hotel room they’re staying in? maybe i’m a little biased bc it’s something i would def do lol 💅🏿 of course it’s up to u to write it or not xx

author's note: hope you like it!

the tiny hotel room buzzed with its usual chaos—sam hammering at his laptop, dean fiddling with the radio until static gave way to a gravelly classic rock station. you, meanwhile, had claimed the bed nearest the window, methodically unpacking your arsenal of serums, creams, and candles from a sleek black case. the clash of your indulgent habits with the winchesters’ bare-bones lifestyle was a contradiction you’d long since stopped noticing, but tonight, it seemed to hold their attention.

“are we setting up a séance, or did bath & body works have a blowout sale?” dean asked, smirking as he leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his leather jacket.

sam glanced up from his laptop, raising an eyebrow but wisely staying silent.

“keep it up,” you deadpanned, lighting a lavender candle with a practiced flick of your lighter. “i can always start charging you both for the free aromatherapy.”

the soft glow spilled across the scratched furniture and faded wallpaper, the soothing scent instantly cutting through the motel musk. dean’s smirk lingered, though his nose wrinkled faintly when you spritzed rose water over your face.

“you’re telling me you haul this crap around on every hunt?” he asked, waving at the array of tiny jars and bottles now lined up on the nightstand.

“it’s called self-care, dean,” you replied without missing a beat. “you should try it sometime. your skin looks like it’s fighting for its life.”

“she’s not wrong,” sam chimed in, earning a glare from his brother. “and for the record, the room already smells better.”

“traitor,” dean muttered, but his eyes drifted back to the candle, then the jade roller you’d just pulled out. “what the hell is that thing?”

“a jade roller,” you said, voice deliberately sweet. “it helps with lymphatic drainage.”

“sounds fake,” he grumbled, though his gaze didn’t waver.

you took your time, smoothing a honey-oat cleansing balm over your skin with deliberate, indulgent motions. sam watched with barely-concealed interest, while dean lounged on the bed’s edge, boots off but still visibly torn between curiosity and skepticism.

“so what, all this actually works?” dean asked, the words reluctant but edged with intrigue.

“why? you want to try?” you baited, not looking up.

“hell no,” he said immediately, but his resolve was already cracking. sam, ever the voice of reason, set his laptop aside.

“i mean, it wouldn’t hurt, right? maybe we wouldn’t look like we’ve been living out of a car for a decade.”

dean groaned, but he didn’t argue when you tossed a washcloth at him. “fine,” you said, grinning as sam caught the second one. “sit your asses down, and let me show you how it’s done.”

sam caved first, obediently following your instructions as you handed him a bottle of cleanser. dean stayed where he was, arms crossed, until you pointedly ignored him in favor of complimenting sam’s technique.

“all right, fine,” he huffed, shuffling over. “hit me with your witch potions or whatever. but if i break out, you’re paying for it.”

“deal,” you said, fighting back a laugh as you handed him the balm. “start with this. rub it in—don’t forget your neck.”

watching dean winchester awkwardly smear product across his face was a moment you’d treasure forever. sam, already mid-toner, stifled a laugh. “you’re doing great, dean.”

“shut up,” dean muttered, his tone lacking any real heat. the faint twitch of a smile betrayed him.

by the time you broke out the sheet masks, all three of you were seated on the beds, faces glistening under the candlelight. the room smelled like lavender and chamomile, its usual harshness replaced with warmth and calm. dean grumbled about how “fucking weird” the mask felt, but he didn’t take it off. sam, predictably, leaned into the experience, asking questions about ingredients until dean threw a pillow at him.

“admit it,” you teased, leaning back with a smug grin. “you feel better.”

neither of them answered, but the way dean’s shoulders relaxed and sam’s lips curved into a rare, soft smile told you everything you needed to know.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis

[starrylanex]

⟡ ₊ .༄.° MAIN MASTERLIST

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS PLEASE DNI TO MY NSFW CONENT. I WILL NOT HESITATE TO BLOCK YOU

fics labeled re are for requests, ro for romantic, f for fluff, p for platonic, s for smut

⟡ ₊ . ༄.° DEAN WINCHESTER

༄ closure | fluff, light angst, ro

༄ i love you, i am sorry | 0.7k, angst

⟡ ₊ . ༄.° SAM WINCHESTER

༄ i think he knows | 1.4k, f, ro,

༄ breaking down and making out | re, ro, light angst, fluff

༄ gentle hands are the best | re, ro, f,

༄ all he needs | light angst, f

⟡ ₊ . ༄.° BUCKY BARNES

༄ take control | ro,

༄ possesive | ro,

༄ jealousy jealousy | ro,

༄ in your eyes | re, ro, f,

⟡ ₊ . ༄.° FINNICK ODAIR

༄ healing hearts | light angst, ro, f, re,

༄ you are in love | ro, f,

༄ midnight comfort | light angst, ro, f

⟡ ₊ . ༄.° K. MIKAELSON

༄ nightmare equals original’s sweater | light angst, f

⟡ ₊ . ༄.° REMUS LUPIN

༄ matchmaking! | f,

[jarpadversebingo]

The confession was so sweet and the fact that both found each other despite what went on is heartwarming. Love this😍

This is my first piece for @jarpadversebingo . Squared Filled: College A.U Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader best friends to lovers. Warnings: Language, Fluff, Angst(ish), Pining, Drinking, Jealousy, Couple Fighting. Summary: College is hard. Add on being in love with your best friend (who you have to watch struggle in their relationship) Make's it a real B**ch. Word count: 2500 Special thanks to @nightxcreature for being my beta 🫶 My Tag list My Master List Hope y'all enjoy ♡

“I’m never gonna get this.” Sam huffed as he tossed the old book on the coffee table.

“Not with that attitude.” You told him,

“I think we need a break.” He voiced, standing up and starting toward the mini fridge in your common room.

“So, where’s Jess at tonight?” you asked him

“Um, girl’s night.” He said twisting the cap off two beer bottles. “She said she needed to let off some steam.” He rolled his eyes.

“Hmm. She’s been doing that a lot lately.” You commented.

“Yea…” He handed you a beer and sat down. You clanked your bottle to his and took a drink. “Back in the day she used to get mad when I didn’t go out with her.”

“We don’t have to talk about your relationship problems, if its too awkward for you.”

“You’re my best friend y/n.” he bopped your nose. “Why would it be awkward?”

You hated that term "best friend." Good enough to keep all your secrets and talk through your problems with but not good enough to be in a relationship with. You forced a smile, trying to mask the sting you felt every time you heard it.

"She’s been distant." Sam admitted, fidgeting with the label on his beer bottle. "I feel like she's pulling away, and I don't know what to do about it.”

You nodded, feeling a mix of empathy and frustration. "Have you talked to her about it?"

"I've tried, but she just says everything is fine." He sighed, taking another swig of his beer. "I don't want to push too hard and make things worse, you know?"

You leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "Relationships are complicated. Maybe she just needs some space to figure things out."

"Yeah, maybe." He seemed lost in thought, his eyes distant. "I just wish I knew what she was thinking."

You turned to him, your heart aching for him and for yourself. "I'm sure it will all work out, Sam. Sometimes people just need time."

"Thanks, y/n." He gave you a small smile. "And thanks for being here. I don't know what I'd do without you."

You smiled back, hiding the turmoil within. "Anytime, Sammy.”  You picked the book up off the coffee table. “So back to Constitutional Law.” You told him, making him groan.

“y/n!!” Sam shouted, collecting dirty looks as he ran through the library toward the table you were sitting at. “I did it! I passed the test!”

You stood up and threw your arms around him, “I knew you could it it!!”

His arms tightened around your waist; your feet left the ground as he spun you.

“Ok, enough spinning.” You told him, making him laugh.

“I couldn’t have done it with you.” He kissed your chest, making them turn red. “Thank you.”

“Yes, you could have.” You reassured him “But you’re welcome.”

“I gotta go call Jess.” He pulled out his cell phone, walking away.

Your hand slid to the place where his lips just were, a sharp ping in your chest as you watched him walk away. You sat back down returning to your books, determined to focus, but the lingering warmth of his kiss made it difficult to concentrate. The library seemed quieter, almost melancholic, as you gathered your thoughts and tried to push the emotions aside.

“I don’t get it Charlie.” You told your best friend as you plopped on her bed. “Why can’t he see it?”

Charlie sighed, putting down her book and turning to face you. “You know, sometimes people just can’t see what’s right in front of them. It’s like they have blinders on, focusing on everything but the most obvious thing.”

You stared at the ceiling, feeling the weight of her words. “But why? It’s so frustrating.”

“Maybe it’s because they’re scared,” Charlie continued thoughtfully. “Scared of ruining what they have, or scared of what might happen if they acknowledge it. Or maybe they’re just not ready to see it yet.”

You sat up, hugging your knees to your chest. “So, what am I supposed to do? Just wait?”

Charlie smiled gently. “Sometimes, yes. And sometimes, you just must be patient and let them come to their own realization. It’s not easy, but if it’s meant to be, it will happen in its own time.”

You nodded slowly, taking in her words. “I just wish he could see it now.”

“I know,” Charlie said, patting your hand reassuringly. She stood up and moseyed over to the mini fridge. “But trust me, if it’s meant to be, he’ll see it eventually. And until then, we have beer.”

You managed a small smile, feeling a bit more hopeful. “Thanks, Charlie. You always know what to say.”

“Anytime,” she replied, the bottles clanked as she tapped your bottle with her own and you both took a swig.

You could hear yelling as you walked up the hallway to the apartment, recognizing Jessica’s voice getting closer to their door.

“Um, maybe we should just go without them, Max.” You voiced turning around to him.

“Or maybe they need to go out to end the argument.” He countered.

“Dude… That sounds bigger than just an argument.”

Max rolled his eyes and knocked on the door.

Sam's face was a mixture of sadness and anger as he opened the door. The spark in his eyes as they met yours was undeniable. "Hey guys… sorry about the noise," he said, his voice a blend of frustration and relief.

Concern etched on your face. "Is everything okay, Sam?"

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his tousled hair. "It's been a rough day.”

"Maybe getting out for a bit will help clear the air." Max pleaded.

A weak smile tugged at Sam’s lips. "Yeah, you’re probably right. Let me just grab Jessica."

As Sam turned back into the apartment, you exchanged a worried glance with Max. Moments later, Jessica emerged, her face flushed and eyes weary. Despite the tension, she forced a smile. "Ready to go?"

You nodded, hoping the evening out might provide some much-needed relief for everyone. "Yeah, let’s get out of here."

You all walked down the hallway together, the tension in the air was thick, almost palpable. Each step echoed the unspoken worries and unresolved conflicts. Sam walked ahead, his shoulders slumped slightly, while Jessica kept her gaze fixed on the floor. You and Max exchanged another glance, silently agreeing to make the evening as light-hearted as possible. As you reached the building's exit, the cool evening breeze brushed against your face, releasing some of the awkwardness.

Your group managed to find an empty high-top table. You sat down next to Max, across the table from Sam.

“I’ll be right back.” Max said as he started towards the bar.

Your eyes scanned the bar, trying to hide your discomfort.

“So, y/n, big day Monday. Isn’t this exam worth half your grade?” Jessica asked you.

“Yep. If Max wouldn’t have held me to my promise I would have my nose in a book right now.”

Sam chuckled. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring them with you.”

You peered at him as you gave him a mocking look. Jessica’s eyebrows rose as you and Sam teased each other.

Making his way back, Max sat a tray on the table. There were 9 shots and 3 beers sitting on it.

“Did you leave any for anyone else?” Sam joked.

“Shut up and do a shot.” Max remarked.

As the glasses emptied, your group relaxed and started having fun.

Jessica stood up and started swaying her hips, you could tell she was starting to feel the effect of the alcohol. You looked away as she wrapped her hands around Sam from behind. Not being able to stop it, you glanced back out of the corner of your eye. Your heart sank as you found a wide smile on his face with her whispering in his ear.

He chuckled. “You know I don’t dance, babe.”

She pouted.

“That’s not going to work.”

“Fine” She sighed. “Max, come dance with me?” she held out her hands.

“Of course, darlin.” He drank the last swig of his beer and stood up. “But forewarning if a hot guy approaches me, I’m ditching you.” he stated as he gabbed her hands, making the 3 of you, chuckle.

Sam turned to you. “What’s on your mind over there?” he stretched his leg, tapping you on the knee with his foot.

“How did you know?”

“Your beer.” He pointed at the bottle in your hand. You looked down realizing you were scratching off the label with your nail. “You always do that when you’re debating something, or nervous.”

You let out a soft, amused chuckle. “Well, I was debating on whether I should ask you what’s going on with you two.”

 “Ah I see.” He smiled and took a drink. “I don’t want to bother you with it.”

You glared at him. “Come on. Out with-it Winchester.”

He chuckled. “It’s stupid.”

“Amuse me.”

“She thinks I have feelings for you.”

You swallowed hard as your heart leaped into your throat. “Why would she think that?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing away for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “I don’t know! Maybe because we spend a lot of time together, and she gets jealous”

You looked at him intently, searching for any hint of truth in his eyes. “And do you?” you asked softly, almost afraid of his answer.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I don’t know what I feel anymore. She’s been so distant lately, and you’ve always been there for me. It’s confusing.”

You felt a mixture of emotions swirling within you. Hope, fear, and deep empathy for your friend. “Sam, I’m always here for you, but I don’t want to be the cause of any problems between you two.”

He nodded, appreciating your candidness. “You’re right. I need to clear things up with her.”

You pulled your purse onto your shoulder as you walked out into the common room. Charlie was sitting on the couch, smiling at you. Your eyes followed hers as she looked at a bouquet of white lilies with red roses, sitting on the coffee table.

“What are those?”

“I do believe they call those flowers, darlin’.” She smarted.

Your head tilted “Well no shit sherlock. Who sent you those?”

“They aren’t for me.”

Creases formed in your forehead as you read your name written on the note card. “Who are they from?” You leaned down and grabbed it.

“I didn’t read it, but I got a good guess.” She smiled.

The card read:

You're not going to need it, but good luck today! You got this y/n! I'll see you after.                                             -♡- Sam

You blushed slightly, feeling a wave of warmth washing over you as you tucked the card into the pocket of your purse.

“Maybe you won’t have to wait much longer,” Charlie teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

A smile tugged at your lips. "Yeah, maybe not," you replied softly.

“How did you do you have so much shit, Sammy?” Dean asked his little brother as he loaded more of Sam’s belongings into his truck.

Sam chuckled. “Thank you. For helping me.”

“Not a problem.” Dean sighed. “Are you sure it’s over? You might be able to.”

“Dean.” Sam cut him off. “It’s over.”

“What are you not telling me Sam?”

Sam glanced at Dean, a small smile creeping onto his face. "I have feelings for someone else," Sam explained.

Dean smiled as he registered Sam’s words.

"She's incredible. Smart, kind, everything I finally realized I needed." He paused, looking down at the ground for a moment before meeting his brother's eyes again. "She's been my rock through all of this."

“She is pretty special huh?”

"She is," Sam affirmed. "She's got this way of making everything seem... brighter. Even when things are tough, she’s always there, supporting me, believing in me."

Dean nodded slowly, processing his brother's words. "Well, Sam. It’s about damn time."

A weight lifted off your shoulders as you walked out of the exam room. A smile spread across your face as you saw Sam pacing in the hallway, waiting for you.

"I didn't know you meant right after, Winchester," you said, a hint of playful surprise in your voice.

Sam's smile broadened, his eyes lighting up with warmth and amusement. "Oh, so you got the flowers," he said, his tone teasing yet tender

"I did," you replied, starting to walk over to him, your heart fluttering with every step. "They're beautiful, Sam. Thank you.”

Sam's smile widened even more, if that was possible. "I'm glad you like them," he said, his eyes sparkling with warmth and amusement.

“So, how’d you do?”

“What do you think? I aced it.” you teased.

“Of course you did.” He agreed, still smiling

“So, what’s the plans for today?” you asked him

"Come on," he said, taking your hand gently but firmly. "There's something I want to show you."

You followed him, curiosity and excitement mingling in your chest. He led you through the winding corridors of the building until you reached a staircase that ascended to the roof. With every step, the anticipation built, the air between you charged with unspoken words.

When you finally reached the top, the view took your breath away. The iconic, red-tiled roofs of the university buildings gleam brightly under the azure sky, creating a picturesque contrast against the lush greenery. The palm-lined main quad is bustling with students and visitors, all soaking in the warmth and vibrant energy of the day.

Sam turned to you, his expression soft and vulnerable, a look you had seen rarely but cherished deeply. "I have a confession. And I’m sorry it’s taken this long, Being your best friend has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me " he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You a way of making everything better. You’ve been my light in the darkest of times. But.” He started walking towards you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words sank in.

His steps slow and deliberate, as if he was savoring each moment leading up to this one. The wind played gently with his hair, and the sun cast a warm glow on his face, highlighting the sincerity in his eyes.

His hand cupped your face once he got close. “I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

A smile spread across your face as his words hung in the air, their warmth enveloping you like a cherished memory.

"I love you," he confessed, his eyes searching yours for a response. "More than I ever thought possible."

Tears of joy welled up in your eyes as you whispered, "I love you too, Sam."

With a relieved smile, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a tender, heartfelt kiss. In that moment, everything felt perfect.

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