#impala fic

[dreamlanderin]

Dean's baby (Dean x reader)

Summary: After a long day of research, you go bother Dean in the garage.

words: 2.7k

Warnings: none

The bunker’s garage. Dean is under the hood of the Impala, a socket wrench in one hand, grease smudged on his forearm. His muscles flex subtly beneath his t-shirt with every movement, the faint sheen of sweat catching the dim light filtering through the room. The scent of motor oil hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of tools and old leather. The rhythmic clinking of metal echoes softly, grounding the space in familiar sounds of work and grit.

You wander in, your footsteps light but still noticeable against the concrete, the echo bouncing lazily through the garage. Boredom clings to you after hours spent in the bunker.

 The day had started off normal: wake up, polish some ancient weapons down in the bunker, make breakfast, and check the news for any strange sightings. One report caught your attention, a possible wendigo sighting. You never liked those. They always made your skin crawl.

That’s where you’ve been for most of the afternoon: doing research with Sam. Well, mostly he’s been doing the actual research while your mind drifts elsewhere.

Honestly, you’re a little annoyed with him. The younger Winchester and his big, stupid puppy-dog eyes. And that hair, god, that hair. Always falling into his face until he sweeps it back with that effortless little motion, usually when he’s frustrated or deep in thought.

You’d caught yourself staring, a lot.

Anyway.

You spot Dean, engrossed in his work in the garage, and smirk to yourself.

"Hey, grease monkey," you call, leaning against the workbench with a lazy grin.

Dean doesn’t flinch. His arm tenses as he tightens something under the Impala’s hood, the movement drawing attention to the way his shirt strains slightly across his shoulders. There’s a faint sheen of sweat along his forearms, catching the light just enough to highlight the grease smudges marking his skin. The garage hums with the familiar scent of motor oil, metal, and leather, a warm, grounding smell that feels like him.

"If you’re here to help, there’s a rag over there. If you’re here to annoy me, the exit’s where you left it," Dean mutters, not bothering to look up.

You smirk but don’t move. "Why not both?"

Finally, Dean ducks out from under the hood, giving you that half-annoyed, half-amused look he’s perfected over the years. His eyes meet yours, sharp and clear, but your mind has already started drifting, back to where you spent most of the afternoon.

Research with Sam.

You were more focused on how easily he navigated the endless pages of lore and obscure texts, piecing things together faster than you could even process. It’s annoying, how effortlessly smart he is, how his mind seems to work ten steps ahead while you’re still trying to catch up.

You pretend it doesn’t bother you, but sometimes it does. Not because he makes you feel small, Sam would never do that, but because you wish you could keep pace. And honestly, it’s a little embarrassing how often you find yourself nodding along, hoping he doesn’t notice when you’re completely lost.

Dean's voice pulls you out of it. "Aren’t you supposed to be helping Sammy with the case? Or did you solve it already while staring at his hair?"

Your cheeks heat, but you roll your eyes, playing it off "Sam’s doing his super-sleuth thing," you say, waving your hand dismissively. "I was starting to lose brain cells watching him cross-reference, so I figured I’d come see some manual labour”

Dean smirks, turning back to the engine. "Well, you came to the right place. Watch and learn, kid. This baby’s a masterpiece."

"Masterpiece? It’s stuck together with duct tape and prayer."

Dean freezes, socket wrench in hand, and slowly turns his head to glare at you. There’s that dangerous glint in his eyethe one that usually means you’re about to get roped into cleaning weapons or organizing the storage room. But beneath the mock offense, there’s humor simmering just under the surface.

"Careful," he says, voice low with faux seriousness. "You’re walking a fine line."

You hold his gaze, arms crossed, trying not to let the corner of your mouth twitch. Dean’s like that, a mix of sharp edges and warmth that sneaks up on you. He acts tough, all bravado and snark, but you’ve seen him stay up all night patching Sam up after a hunt, or quietly fixing the broken lock on your door without ever mentioning it.

"Relax," you tease, nudging the Impala’s fender with the toe of your boot. "I know she’s your baby. I wouldn’t actually insult her… to your face."

Dean’s glare narrows further, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him. "Good. Because this ‘baby’ has more heart than most people I know. You’d be lucky to be half as reliable."

You snort, shaking your head. "She’s lucky to still be running at all."

Without missing a beat, Dean grabs the dirty rag from the workbench and flicks it at you, the grease-streaked fabric catching you square in the shoulder.   

"Hey!" you yelp, recoiling with a laugh as you swat it away. "Gross!"

Dean grins, clearly pleased with himself. "That’s what you get for disrespecting the queen." He tosses the rag back onto the bench like nothing happened, already turning his attention back to the Impala.

"You’re impossible," you mutter, brushing off the faint smear left behind.

"And you’re still standing in my garage," Dean counters, leaning back under the hood. "Which means you’re fair game."

"Yeah, yeah." You roll your eyes, but there’s no stopping the grin tugging at your lips.

Moments like this, easy, light, and a little messy, are the rare ones you tuck away for later, because you know they don’t come around often.

It’s strange, really. How easily this life found you. Or maybe how easily they found you.

Meeting the Winchesters hadn’t exactly been planned. You stumbled into their world under circumstances that could generously be called chaotic, one wrong place, wrong time situation after another until suddenly, there you were. Tied up in the mess of hunts, ancient books, and things that shouldn’t exist outside of nightmares.

But somehow, instead of leaving you to deal with it on your own, they’d taken you in.

Dean likes to act like you’re a pain in his ass, but he’s the one who never lets you drive anywhere alone. The one who shoves a gun into your hand and taught you how to shoot, even if he complained about it the entire time. And sometimes, when he thinks you’re not looking, his eyes soften, if only a little.

And Sam, Sam’s different. Gentler in his approach, but no less protective. He’s the one who stays up late researching the things you don’t understand, explaining it all in that calm, patient way that somehow makes you feel a little less out of your depth, even when you know you’ll never catch up to him.

They don’t call it family. Not out loud. But it’s in the way Dean knocks your boot off the workbench with a muttered "Get your feet off Baby," or the way Sam always checks to make sure you ate something after long nights.

It’s quiet, unspoken, but you feel it all the same.

You let out a breath, still leaning against the workbench, watching Dean work. "So, what’s wrong with her this time?"

Dean shrugs, wiping his hands on another rag, his muscles moving slightly with the movement. "Nothing serious. Just a tune-up. Gotta keep her running smooth." He glances over at you with that smug, gruff look, eyes gleaming. "Something you wouldn’t understand, what with you not knowing the difference between a carburetor and a spark plug."

You gasp, hand to your chest in exaggerated offense. "I know what a spark plug is! It’s the… sparky thing."

Dean freezes for half a second, staring at you like you’ve personally insulted his entire existence. And then he barks out a laugh, loud and unapologetic, shaking his head. "Sparky thing. Yeah, okay. You’re a regular gearhead."

You roll your eyes, stepping around to the other side of the Impala and leaning against the fender with a lazy stretch. "I’m just saying, for someone who spends hours messing with this thing, you could at least upgrade to something newer. You know, with Bluetooth. Or seat warmers."

Dean’s hand stops mid-wipe, and he lowers the rag slowly, fixing you with the kind of glare that suggests you’ve crossed into dangerous territory. "Seat warmers? Really?" His voice drips with disbelief, as if you’ve just suggested painting flames down the sides of the car.

"First of all, seat warmers are for wimps. Second, this car’s got more soul in her headlights than any of those plastic toys rolling off assembly lines. She’s not just a car. She’s family."

"Right…." you say, holding back a laugh. "The Impala is the real Winchester sibling."

"Damn straight," Dean replies, his tone serious.

He goes back to tightening a bolt, his forearms shifting with the motion, tense and controlled. There’s a natural ease to the way he moves, like he’s done this a thousand times, every motion instinctive. His t-shirt pulls just slightly across his back as he leans over the engine, the faint sheen of sweat from hours in the garage catching the low light.

You try not to notice, but it’s hard to ignore the quiet strength in the way he works, strong hands, calloused and capable, making even the smallest task look deliberate.

For a moment, the only sounds are the soft scrape of metal and the rhythmic click of his wrench, and you find yourself lingering longer than you meant to.

You tilt your head "You really love this car, huh?"

Dean glances at you, his expression softening slightly. "Yeah, I do. She’s been through a lot with us. Hell, she’s saved our asses more times than I can count."

He pauses, rolling the wrench absently in his hand, eyes flicking over the engine but not really seeing it. His voice drops, quieter now, like he’s talking more to himself than to you. "When everything else goes to crap, at least I know she’s still here. Still running."

For a moment, the weight of his words lingers, heavier than the air thick with motor oil. You catch the flicker in his eyes, the kind that doesn’t need explanation. It’s not just the car. It’s everything she’s carried him through.

The unexpected honesty catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t have a snarky comeback. You watch the way he absently runs a hand along the edge of the hood, fingers tracing the curve like it’s second nature. You can’t help but wonder how many nights he’s sat in the driver’s seat alone, gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

"That’s... kinda nice," you say quietly, the words feeling too small for the moment but all you can come up with.

Dean straightens, shrugging it off almost immediately, like he didn’t just crack the door open to something more vulnerable. His eyes flick back to you, the faintest smirk returning to his face. "Yeah, well, don’t get too sentimental on me. Next thing I know, you’ll be asking to drive her."

Your eyes light up, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "Oh, can I?"

The shift is subtle, classic Dean, slipping behind the wall the second things start feeling too real. But there’s still something lingering in the way he watches you

"Not a chance in hell."

"Come on, Dean!" you whine, stepping closer. "Just once! I won’t even go out of first gear."

"Nope," Dean says, popping the P with exaggerated finality. "This car’s got standards."

You pout, leaning against the Impala dramatically. "You’re no fun."

Dean raises an eyebrow, and walk’s round the car towards you: leaning in a little closer, his teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I’m plenty of fun. You just don’t meet the qualifications for the VIP package."

His voice drops slightly at the end, smooth and full of that effortless confidence he carries around like armor. It’s the kind of line he throws out without a second thought, but it lingers longer than you expect, heating the space between you just enough to make your pulse pick up. You tell yourself it’s just the closeness, the warmth of the garage air, and not the way his eyes flick over you like he’s enjoying your reaction.

"Wow," you say, tilting your head with a mock-offended scoff. "Now you’re just being mean."

Dean chuckles under his breath, shifting back a fraction but still well within arm’s reach. There’s something easy about the way he leans, like he knows exactly how to walk the line between playful and challenging.

"Mean?" he echoes, standing upright and planting his hands on his hips, the muscles in his arms flexing just enough to be noticeable beneath the grease-smudged fabric of his shirt. His gaze locks onto yours with that familiar intensity, the one that’s half teasing and half something else you can never quite place. "You just called my car a sparky, duct-taped death trap. You’re lucky I let you breathe near her."

You know he’s joking, mostly. But there’s something about the way he says it, the protective edge creeping into his voice like he’s daring you to insult the Impala again. You’ve seen him put himself between her and danger more times than you can count.

You laugh, holding your hands up. "Okay, fine. I’ll leave your precious car alone." You step back, your grin still in place. "But if you get stuck in a ditch again, don’t call me to push."

Dean snorts, shaking his head. "Like you could push anything heavier than a shopping cart."

His voice carries that familiar roughness, laced with amusement, the kind that makes it impossible to take him seriously, even when he’s laying the sarcasm on thick. You roll your eyes, pushing off the Impala with an exaggerated sigh.

"I’ll remember that next time you need me to help save your sorry butt," you shoot back, already heading toward the door.

It’s the kind of banter that feels second nature by now, the words rolling off your tongue as easily as breathing. But just as your hand brushes against the doorframe, something tugs at you to glance back.

Dean’s still there, leaning against the Impala with his arms crossed, watching you leave with a half-smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes follow you, not in a way that demands attention, but in that quiet, lingering way of someone who’s gotten used to having you around. Like maybe he notices more than he lets on.

Your grin softens almost involuntarily, the sharp edges of the teasing fading into something quieter. "Besides, you’d miss me too much”

Dean raises an eyebrow, but there’s no denying the way his eyes warm just a little. He doesn’t say anything, just gives a short, gruff nod like that’s answer enough.

And it is.

"Thanks, Dean”

Dean rolls his eyes, picking up his wrench again. "Yeah, yeah. Get outta here”

You giggle lightly as you disappear down the hallway, your footsteps soft against the cold bunker floor, Dean’s eyes trail after you. He shakes his head with a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Seat warmers," he mutters under his breath, glancing at the Impala like she might somehow agree with him.

The sound of Sam’s voice drifts faintly from the library, calling your name, probably to drag you back into research or help with whatever case he’s buried in.

Dean’s smile fades just slightly, not gone, but dimmed, like someone turned the dial down a notch.

His hand lingers on the Impala for another beat longer than necessary before he shifts his weight, rolling his shoulders as if to shake something off.

He ducks back under the hood, wrench in hand, and mutters under his breath, "All right, Winchester. Get a grip."

But even as he works, his thoughts are still trailing after you, following the soft echo of your laugh down the hall.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

Please be nice it was my first one, any feedback would be appreciated ;)

[amor-ad-nauseam]

Eyes on you. (18+)

Pairings: Soulless!SamWinchester X Reader

Rating: 18+

Summary: Sam has been… off lately. But that’s to be expected from a man who just came back from hell, right?

Word count: 5.9k

Tags: Soulless Sam Winchester x reader, hunting with Sam and Dean, Soulless Sam, Sam Winchester smut, dubcon(?) , PiV, no protection (wrap it up kids), creampie, breath play, choking, pinning, fingering, degradation, rough, dom sam, Dean mentioned but not involved, dacryphilia, reader has female anatomy, no use of y/n

Notes: wooo! sorry for the long hiatus, school has been fucking me missionary. anyway, starting off Kinktober strong with dubcon

Requests are open.

There was something terribly wrong with Sam.

You knew it from the moment he got back. Hell, everyone knew it.

Though of course when these concerns were raised to Dean, he, in his self-imposed naïveté, ignored it.

But you knew he felt it too.

During the few times you’ve tagged along on the brothers hunts these last few months, you’ve picked up on a few things. The way Dean would hold eye contact with Sam for only thirty seconds at a time, never a moment longer. Or how he would shift away from his own brother if he got too close. It was subtle. But you knew.

You couldn’t blame Dean for wanting to pretend everything was all right. Sam was his brother after all. And after everything they'd been through, if you were in his position, you'd do the same. You've only known the boys for some odd years now, and still you find yourself from time to time, pretending that the sweet, bookish, too-tall-for-his-own-good Sam you met is the same thing that came out of hell.

That is how you would survive this hunt.

You’ve always wondered how humans could feel someone's eyes on them. Since becoming a hunter that sense has sharpened.

You tear your gaze away from the view out of the backseat of the Impala and lock eyes with Sam in the rearview mirror. His once soft gaze was now stoic and calculating.

He looks away.

You linger.

You couldn't help but have the feeling that, in fact, there was nothing wrong with Sam at all.

This simply wasn't Sam. This was just some creature doing a poor emulation of him.

Without realizing, your hand had slid down your leg to the lifted fabric in the side of your boot. Your fingertips grazed the hilt of your dagger.

Correction, this is how you’d survive this hunt.

—-

When you finally arrived at the dilapidated manor, Dean was first to survey the scene.

“Alright.” He said in his usual gruff voice, clasping his hands together. “We got alotta ground to cover so, ladies first, take your pick.” Dean said, gesturing to you.

You were hoping Sam would pick first so that at the very least, you could choose the place furthest from the shiver down your spine.

“I’ll take upstairs,” you said. That feeling again, eyes on you.

Dean nods. You spin on your heels and race up the winding staircase without waiting to hear what each chose.

—-

Mildew and rotting wood lace the air. It’s a shame really, you thought. You face the expansive landing before you, pausing as your calf muscles burn from climbing the stairs two at a time.

High ceilings, eleven feet at least. Tall windows with dusty wine curtains spilling onto the floor shielding the amber of the setting sun. Most of the furniture was missing –evidence of squatters and raids– what remained was broken and covered in suspicious stains, much like what was left of the deep brown hardwood flooring. The most noticeable part of the room was the wallpaper, a rich red with delicate Chrysanthemums scattered across it, almost looking hand-painted on.

The wooden boards groan beneath your feet, causing you to question if they threatened to give out. You had a job to do, so you trudge down the dark hall.

Around 10 minutes pass and you knew no more information than when you first walked in. Not too long after you first got upstairs, you heard the ghostly moan of the front door shutting – one of the boys had opted to search the grounds. Meanwhile you tore through almost a dozen rooms only to find phallic graffiti and more rotting wood.

It was dark through the house now, the setting sun long gone, leaving you in the cold, dim space. The only light provided was the one functional bulb of the broken chandelier above- set to perpetually swing until its last chain broke.

The actual goal of this job was rather vague. All you knew was a bunch of kids had narrowly escaped death after a night of pure dumbassery in this house. So now here you were, swiping your EMF reader abstractly through the air and as Dean so eloquently put it, “keepin’ your eyes peeled for anything ghost-y or weird.”

Yeah, real helpful.

So you continue on down the hall with only a few rooms left to search. Then, something sounds from ahead.

Creeeeeak

You stalk toward the sound.

Nothing.

Creeeeeak.

The sound seems to come from behind this time. That feeling again, eyes on you.

You whip your head around. “Who's there!” You shout, your confident voice a stark contrast to the pit hanging in your stomach.

This time you manage to catch a glimpse of something slipping around the corner. You steel yourself, pocket the EMF reader, pull your dagger from your boot and start toward the creature.

You walk out into the landing, your steps cautious and dagger ready. Your eyes roll through the room. It was as if the creature had disappeared.

Creeeeak.

Or maybe not.

“That's cute.” It chuckles.

The voice was low and terrible, sending shivers down your spine

Yet still, it was almost familiar.

It elicited this hair raising feeling you can only imagine is similar to what homosapien felt looking at neanderthal.

“Come on out!” you shout, voice beginning to waver.

“That little kitchen knife you have, it's cute.”

Your stomach drops. Gears begin to turn in your head.

“But y’know, It doesn't matter how good you are with it.”

Sam, the real Sam, had been trying for years to get you to use a gun. But you had your knives and were good with them no doubt, so what was the point? He would always return your refusals with that crooked smile and pleas of how it “would make him feel so much better.”

Creeeeak.

The hall, it had to be coming from there. You force yourself to move.

“If your opponent is faster.”

Creeeeak.

No it was from behind, you were sure of it.

You spin on your heels and race toward the landing once more.

“Sam, come out. This isn't fucking funny!”

Just as you turn the corner, one strong hand seizes both of your wrists in a single swift motion. In an instant you're slammed up against something hard. The knife drops from your hands. Sam kicks it away. You open your eyes.

Chrysanthemums.

Fuck.

Sam leans down, his hot breath brushing against your neck. “Should’ve let me teach you how to shoot.”

There's a pause, the moment breathing and the air pulsing.

“Sam...” You exhale finally. Your voice comes out smaller than you would’ve liked.

“You’re too easily overpowered.” he raises his head for his lips to meet your ear. “Didn’t take much for me to get you like this; to hunt you down.” Sam’s grip tightens on your wrists.

His voice was low and gravely. You fought back against your aching lungs' desire to quicken their pace.

“That's what you’re calling this?” You remark. “Hunting me down?”

You had to play this smart.

There was a small knife, pocket sized, really, concealed just past the waistband of your jeans. With your hands to your back, if you could maneuver your fingers just right-

“Well I did, didn't I?” He squeezes your wrists once more, sending pain shooting down your arm and causing your fingers to splay out.

“Okay!” You gasp. “You've proved your point!” You say through gritted teeth.

Your index and middle finger slip past the waistband.

His grip loosens and he pulls away. You exhale. The tip of the handle brushes against your fingertip. So close.

Then, Sam jerks your wrists downward, your chance of escape literally slips between your fingers.

“I don't think I have.”

He looks down on you, this you can see from the corner of your eye. The rest, you feel.

His gaze is mechanical, inspecting, taking in and processing data. Some synapse fire causes his lips to tug upward in a smirk.

“Fuck.”

His long fingers tuck into the waist of your jeans.

“What are you-” You jut your hips in a desperate attempt to move free. Sam silently presses his knee against the back of your own, stopping all movement. There was no anger in his motions, annoyance at best. You let out a ragged breath.

He pulls the blade out, slowly and deliberately.

“Sam.”

He ignores your plea. Sam drags the knife from you, taking great care to ensure that the blade runs along your spine and that the tip drags up the hem of your shirt.

A shiver of a different kind rolls through your every vertebrae.

He brings the dagger to your chin, forcing you to look up. Sam all but closes the gap between the two of you, the point of his nose ghosting against your cheek. The warmth of his body swarms around you; the rotting wood smell drowned out by his deep woodsy scent. For a small singular blip of a moment you allow yourself to believe that this thing that looked and smelled like Sam, was truly Sam.

“Scream.”

But this isn't Sam, you knew that.

His voice quickly serves to pull you from your sanctity.

“What?” You breathe, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“You could’ve, by now. Dean would hear too, and you know that- you’re not stupid.”

“I-” You stammer. He was right. The thought had played in the back of your mind but some louder part of you, the part that hadn't been next to a warm body in months objected.

“So why don’t you?” Sam continues, his voice like velvet sending vibrations rippling across your skin.

“Go on, scream.”

Nothing.

He smirks.

Sam drops the knife. There goes your lifeline.

His lips meet your jaw in a hungry kiss. You let out an involuntary groan. His teeth clash against the bone, threatening to leave a mark.

Maybe this wasn't Sam, but it still looked like him, still felt like him, and still touched like him. Maybe pretending couldn't hurt.

He continues down your neck, every hot, open-mouthed kiss causing another groan to escape you. Deep down you felt some gross shame; the fraction of yourself that hasn't succumbed to the wants of your flesh racking against your ribcage. All at once his teeth clamp down on your shoulder. “Agh.”

Yeah pretending couldn’t hurt. But good god did you hope it would.

You hiss, sucking in a breath and trying to pull away.

“Tell me to stop.” Sam breaths in between rough kisses.

He flattens himself against you, the strain in his jeans pressing into your ass. Against better judgment, you let out a sweet moan and you feel the bulge in his pants grow. This was wrong, so so wrong. There was something off about Sam, you shouldn’t be sleeping with him.

“Sto-hmfg” You’re cut off by the sounds of your own pleasure as Sam sucks on the part of your neck he had just bit. The juxtaposition of pleasure and pain confuses your mind and body. Heat spreads between your thighs and your mind swirls.

Knowing and feeling something are two entirely different things. Sure, in your head you could protest the current situation. You could attempt to be as logical as you wanted, but that didn’t change the aching desire within you. 

“One word and I will.” Sam groans as he presses his hips into you. 

The feeling of his hardness so close to your needy core ceases any rational thought you could’ve given.

He releases your bruised wrists. Finally, a moment to think properly. Without warning, his arm wraps around your waist, pinning your arms to your sides and pulling you away from the wall and into him. You were sure at this point that your cheek had a chrysanthemum imprint on it. 

Sam looks down at you before him. So helpless and ready to be fucked dumb. He watches as you wince, your body in pain from the new position. His cock twitches. 

You feel his muscles, strong and heaving against your back, his arm flexing as he holds you close. His free hand slides over to the collar of your shirt. His long fingers delicately trace your collar bones, staring down at them as if he wants to sink his teeth in. The air leaves your lungs. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his hands sliding down your torso, then sliding up your shirt. Oh how badly you wanted to cry out. To beg him to touch your needy pussy. But something told you he wouldn't oblige. 

Sam watches your face intently. As hard as you tried not to give anything away, he could tell every single thing you were feeling. The light twitch of your eyebrow as he slid his hands up your shirt instead of down your pants sent satisfaction surging through him. He didn't have to feel you to know you were soaking wet. He slides his index and middle fingers under your bra and begins to massage the soft skin of your breasts. His thumbs hold your sides and his ring and pinky fingers dig into the gaps between your ribs. You were so much more fragile than he ever imagined. God, he can't wait to break you. 

Small, soft moans pour out of you like music to his ears. His fingers pinch your nipples harshly, causing you to make a squeak-like whimper. You try to pull away from him in sudden shock at the pain but there was nowhere to run. 

“Sam, please.” You whine.

“Please what?” He replies while rolling your now firm nipples between his fingers.

Your voice comes out small, pathetic, he thought. “Agh- it hurts.”

He pinches harder. “You can take it.”

Before you can protest, he returns to that sweet spot on your neck that he had bit earlier. He flicks his tongue across the bruise before kissing it again and again. Your head lolls and your mind goes blank. 

Sam continues to pinch and twist your nipples, watching your face and relishing in the effect he has on you. Almost makes him wonder if you’ve ever been fucked right in your life. 

All those nights he knew you were in the next motel room getting fucked by some idiot you met at a bar. Every morning he had to see you with your hair messy and makeup smudged. All those times he wished it was him who was making you moan, just for you to be squirming like a virgin right now? 

Sam angles himself so that his bulge is pressed directly against your cunt. The friction makes you moan and he can't stop the spread of a smirk across his lips. 

“Look what you did to me.” He breathes against your ear. “You’re such a slut.” 

“N-no I'm not.” You gasp between moans. That wasn’t true. Sure you had a few one night stands but no more than either of the boys.

“Really?” Sam grins and for some reason that was so much worse than if he had outright called you a whore. 

Shame overwhelms you.

He suddenly rips his hands from your tits. The sudden motion and lack of warmth makes you gasp.

Exactly what he wanted. Sam finds the button on your jeans and pops it free in an instant. 

The room felt like a maelstrom of hot desire. You never imagined that you’d tolerate being called a slut, let alone dignify the accusation by trying to defend yourself against it, and you certainly, most definitely, never thought it'd be Sam making the accusation.

Sam roughly shoves his hand into your jeans and you feel your heart speed up, partiality in fear, partially in excitement. Sadly, he doesn't go another layer further. His fingers dance across the cotton of your panties, teasing. 

“Not a slut?” He whispers in your ear. His fingers find your entrance and press against it. The soft fabric was warm and sticky, practically soaked with your arousal. You whine as his fingers threaten to enter, you were so embarrassed yet your body begged for more.

“Then why are you so wet, hm?” Sam didn’t have to say it, you both knew it as his fingers sent the message before his mouth did but still, but he received such a deep satisfaction seeing your cheeks flush at his words. 

 You weren't going to dignify him with a response. 

Sam’s middle and ring finger press against your entrance once more. You attempt to keep your face straight as you internally curse the fabric separating him and your pleasure.

“Such a fucking slut.”

At this, Your pussy clenches around the tips of his fingers.

You feel Sam's chest vibrate against your back as a wry laugh echoes through him.   “You like that?” 

You set your gaze on your shoes, biting back words. 

 He grabs your jaw and forces you to look up at him. “Answer me, slut.” 

Your pussy pathetically clenches around him again. You release your bottom lip, red with blood circulation. “Y–Yes.” You didn’t have to respond, but for some reason you wanted to see his face as you said it. To know if he was as turned on as you were. 

Sam rewards you with a mocking smile. “Wow… who knew you were such a dirty whore.”

Before you could even think of a response, Sam finds your clit. The second he touches you, you feel your mind begin to go blank, your mouth falls open with only a whimper to show for the last of your coherent thoughts. Even through your panties, his touch was electric

His lips find that beautifully bruised sweet spot on your shoulder and pepper it with kisses. His hand drops from your neck, leaving your head to loll as you shudder with breathy moans. 

The fabric of your panties was now throughly saturated as it slid across your folds. You grind against Sam’s hand, desperate for more friction. You tried so hard not to give in but it was clear at this point you had lost. Sam takes in the sight: your lips fallen apart in gasping moans, your eyes fluttering shut and brows knitted. The curvature of your neck, your head thrown back like a dead girl and your hips pathetically rocking back and forth, too proud to beg.

“You want more, baby?” Sam asks, amusement evident in his tone.

You bite down on your bottom lip, clinging to the last bits of your dignity.

All those nights he had to hear your headboard banging against the wall you weren't so reserved. 

“Fine then.” Stoically, Sam simply begins to pull away. 

Without thinking, your hand shoots out and grabs his wrist. You look up at him, eyes glazed over with lust and boring into his skull. “Please.” 

Now that is what he liked to see. He wets his lips as he looks over your face. 

“Good girl.” 

You weren't quite sure what took over you and you don't know if you hated yourself for it or were thankful. Regardless, you begin to lead his hand back toward your jeans. Suddenly, he stops.

Celertitly, Sam turns you around and pins you back to the wall. If he was going to have you, it would be wholly and completely. He was going to ravage you and tear you apart at the seams.

He undresses you like an autopsy, delicately peeling away layer after layer. His thumbs hook into your pants and he squats as he slides them down. His fingers trace the rim of your panties before he slowly pulls them down your legs. Sam looks up at you: thighs pressed together and hands balled at your sides. While your body language conveyed a certain conservative nature, your teeth sunken into your red bottom lip and eyes staring straight down at him anticipating his next move told a different story. It was almost funny the way you tried to remain taciturn, as if you hadn’t just proved a thousand times over what a slut you are. 

Sam’s large hands practically engulf your hips as he takes hold. For a moment he considers licking your cunt, but then again, it would be so much more fun to see you squirm beneath him. He rises to his feet, fingers digging into your flesh as he uses you as leverage, lips ghosting against your torso. His narrowed eyes never leave you for a moment. 

You search Sam’s eyes for anything familiar, anything that would make you feel less awful about this. While his eyes still contained that stunning hazel hue, there was no emotion behind them. Lust, sure. Before you could thoroughly discern your emotions, you feel Sam pulling up your shirt. 

“Wait.” You say, pushing the fabric down. “Dean… He’s just outside. What if he comes up?” 

“So?” Sam asks flatly. He tries to pull off your shirt again, but you stop him.

“So? I won’t have time to get dressed. I’d rather your brother not se-“ 

His lips press against yours as though he were starved. Fastest way to get you to shut the fuck up. 

Your mind and every thought in it slips out like a gust of wind. He pulls away only for a quick moment.  “Guess we’ll have to be quick then, hm?” He breathes. You nod dumbly, lips puffy and saliva coating them.  With that he forcibly rips off your top and tosses it to the ground. Finally, he thought. 

Your bra ends up on the ground as well. 

Sam roughly grabs you by the hair and pulls you back into the kiss. Of all the times you’ve imagined being with Sam, not once did you think it would be like this, unfeeling, and rough. But if you could pretend, that would make it all okay. 

And so you did. You let your mind go blank and only focus on the pleasure ‘real’ Sam was giving you. 

 Your hands slide up his shoulders and rest on the nape of his neck. You moan as you sink into the kiss and as Sam's long fingers come to circle your clit and you don’t bother to maintain a shred of composure.

He breaks the kiss, panting, forehead pressed against yours and looks down at your body, and all the bruises on you. All of the ways he’s marked and claimed you caused a low growl to ripple through his chest. Sam pulls his fingers from your pussy and you have half a mind to grab his wrist again. He watches as your slick stretches and runs down his fingers. You pretend that his thoughts and words were something more of love than lust. 

“Fuck.” “Beautiful.” He says in a breathy murmur. 

As Sam's fingers prod at the entrance of your puffy cunt, you cringe at the lewd squelching noise that ensues. He looks up from his work to watch your face. It was so satisfying to see you like this, so needy and pathetic. At once, his fingers sink deep inside you. You moan, his fingers leaving you so full. You hardly have a moment to gather your thoughts before he's thrusting in and out of you, a satisfied look on his face at watching you unravel.  

Every single moan you make is loud, drawn, out and practically pornographic and in all honesty, you couldn't care less. He pulls you in via a rough grip on your hair and smashes his lips against yours. You let yourself believe the kiss was more fervent than greedy. His tongue, much like his fingers, treats the inside of your body more like an exploration or experiment — trying to figure out what makes you tick. Sam runs his tongue along the inside of your teeth and at the same time you feel him grinning against your lips. Suddenly you can’t get enough air in your lungs, his fingers curl and press right against your g-spot. You tear yourself away from him in a gasping moan, your palms flat against his muscular chest as your world spins. 

“mfgh- fuck, S-Sammy,” You cry.  

And just as soon as he started, he stopped. 

“What did you call me?” Sam pulls away, his eyes narrowed and dark. It doesn’t matter if his touch was ever loving, the lack of it now leaves you feeling cold and embarrassed.

“Samm-“

Sam’s lips curl into a frown. You stop speaking. 

 It seems everyone— including you, wanted little ‘Sammy’ back. It didn’t matter that he was right there, they missed that weak part of him still burning in hell. 

Slowly but promptly, his hand creeps up your collarbone and wraps around your throat. He sets his jaw and it hits you— what you felt around Sam before this, it wasn’t fear, something more than discomfort but far less than being afraid; this however, this was fear. 

As it seems, you’ve gotten yourself too lost in pretending. 

“Sammy,” he says sharply in a voice you were unaware Sam was even capable of producing. “Is Dean’s dumbass little brother…  Sammy jerked off to you every night but never had the balls to ask you out. Sammy is a little bitch. So, if you want me to fuck you dumb, it’s Sam.”

Speechless, you breathe a reply before your brain has a chance to catch up. “I- yes sir.” 

“Yeah, that too.” Sam replies in a dark voice. 

He squeezes your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know that he could if he wanted to. 

And for some goddamned reason, it turns you on. 

Pretending never does quite work, does it?

It was wrong, you thought as Sam’s hand dropped from your throat. Even after what just happened, you felt yourself growing hotter at the image that wormed its way into your head. Sam’s nimble fingers wrapped around his cock, chest heaving as he stoked himself. Instead of returning to you, he began to undo his belt. Sam’s pumps growing jagged and needy as he brought himself closer. He starts to pull down his pants and boxers, a bit of hasty anger in his movements. Sam’s eyes wrenching shut, or perhaps rolling back. Breathless repetitions of your name floating in the air. Thick globs of revering white emulsion spilling over his fist out of the very same cock before you. You gasp as he enters.

Sam’s cock feels as though it’s ripping you apart. His length and girth are far more than you’ve ever taken and by the looks of it, he's never had something quite like you either. 

“Fffuck you’re tight.” He groans, fingers digging into your ass as he thrusts in and out. He wishes he didn’t have to worry about these damn clothes, he could've made you cum on his tongue by now if it weren't for the damn pants around your ankles. He also wishes he didn't have to worry about time constraints, he could've given you several short orgasms by now instead of aiming for a single earth-shattering one.. Honestly, he couldn’t give less of a shit if Dean saw the two of you, but you probably wouldn't sleep with him again if that happened and  he was planning to use your tight little pussy this entire weekend. Hell, he might ‘accidentaly’ fuck up the hunt so you would have to stay in town longer.

“So good for me baby.” Sam says in a groan. His eyes remain locked on your expression and your tits bouncing with every thrust. Your warm cunt fits around him so nicely. He didn't have to, and he knew you surely couldn't take it but he loved to see you gasp and squirm– so pretty beneath him, every time he bottomed out.

“Mnghh, wa-agh!” You whine, high pitched and pleading. You press your palms against his chest, hoping to send the message of telling him to slow down as your mouth has been rendered absolutely useless save for whimpers and moans. Maybe he didn’t understand, or maybe it was that he didn’t want to, in the end, Sam continued fucking you with reckless abandon.

Tears began to prickle in the corners of your eyes. “Sam- agh s’too.. mmuch.” You sobbed. 

“Shh, you’re taking me so well,” Sam coos. He cups your jaw in a surprisingly tenderder fashion and wipes your streaming tears with his thumb. You wince.

He has always wondered how you liked it. How you really liked it, every dirty fantasy you had in the dead of night and every deleted search.

“H-mgh, h-hurts.” You  squeak out as he rams into you once more.

 Now, it was glaringly obvious. With a hint of genuine curiosity in his eyes, he wraps a hand around your throat once more and then, he squeezes. 

Of course Sam has choked a girl in bed before, but choking you was especially euphoric. The slight hint of fear in your eyes was enough to make him cum right now. 

You felt suddenly very aware of your body. The pain on your shoulder and down your finger-dug in arms and hips. Your drooping eyelids, tears down your chin, the thoughtless moans spilling out of you as you unthinkingly tipped your head back, exposing your throat to give Sam a better grip. 

Every breath gave a slight resistance you couldn’t help but want. Fog filled your head until you were left with a one point perspective of Sam. It hurt so good. Your arms lazily drape over his shoulders and you find yourself begging for more of him; your hips rock in tandem with this thrusts and through moans, a single word falls from your lips. 

“Harder.” 

Sam quickly obliges, his pelvis meets yours with every thrust and his tip touches your cervix. You throw your head back in a shuddering moan and feel yourself losing oxygen. 

He couldn’t believe he didn’t realize sooner what a pain slut you were. Your pussy begins to tighten around his cock in uneven flutters. First your fingers, curling into Sam’s hair. Then your chest, shallow breaths growing shallower. Your legs follow soon after, the muscles tensing and feeling as though they could give away at any moment. Finally your abdomen, growing taut by the second. Your brows press together as your mouth falls open. 

“S-ssoo close.” You slur. 

“Hold it baby, just a little more.” Sam groans. His breath filled in the hot inch of space between your bodies. His thrusts became shorter but more rapid, his heart following suit. He clenches his teeth. Fuck, you looked pretty with his hand around your throat but damn if he didn’t need to cum inside your cunt. 

Tears begin streaming down your cheeks as you try to hold back the waves of pleasure ripping through you. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Sam stops choking you and turns all his attention on your pussy. Your moans come out in pathetic cries, your body feeling wet and mushy but tense and begging for release all at the same time. Your head was a mess too jumbled to decipher and all you wanted was to cum. 

“Ssam.. please.” You cry as he pounds into you like a rag doll.

“So needy.” He teases back in a ragged breath. “You can do it. Be a good slut and hold it.”

 Just as you go to beg he meets your yes in a stern glare. “Do not fucking cum until I say so.” 

You give a reluctant nod. 

And just then, you hear a door shut. 

Shit. 

With wide eyes, you snap out of your trance. 

Sam on the other hand, didn’t plan on stopping. 

His hand quickly flies up to your mouth and his body completely presses yours to the wall. 

“Not a sound.” He whispers against your ear.  

As hard as you try to fight it, you find yourself slipping back. This time, with each thrust you slide up the chrysanthemum wall and he could feel your heart beating against his chest 

Sam’s cock twitches inside of you. He moves his hand and replaces it with his lips, trapping you in a sloppy kiss while he lifts your legs, bringing your knees to almost wrap around his hips. He palms your ass while his forearms support your thighs and his elbows your knees. Damn these clothes. Though still, at this angle he could get so much deeper and bring himself so much closer. 

White hot pleasure surges through his every synapse. 

“Guys! Where are you?” Dean calls from downstairs and damn if the adrenaline rush from that didn’t turn you on. 

Sam feels you clench around his cock and he groans into your mouth. 

“Almost there.” Sam whispers. You were too out of it to reply. 

“Need- mgh.. to.” You whisper. A tingling sensation has taken over your whole body, starting at your core and spreading outward. You felt like a ticking time bomb and just when you felt you were about to explode.

“Cum.”

With that you let go. You feel Sam’s hand slide between your and his lips as your orgasm rolls through you. His head falls forward and rests against the wall as he shudders through an orgasm of his own. The tingling feeling turns your muscles to jello but Sam does his best to keep you in his grasp. 

“No hits outside.” Dean calls. 

The only sound that mattered to either of you though were each other's dark trembling exhales, yours leaving through your nostrils and onto his knuckles and Sam’s through his parted lips and onto your bare shoulder. 

Small twitches and spurts from Sam’s length persist inside of you as he reaches the last of his orgasm. Meanwhile your entrance flutters as you recover from your ecstasy. Your heart pounded in your ears and you were left in a high. 

“…The hell? If you two got taken by a ghost or some shit I swear.” Dean grumbles. And then his footsteps start toward the stairs. Fuck.

Sam though, he takes his sweet time letting you down. 

Creeaak, Groans one step. 

Sam begins to pull out, forcing you to watch his cock glistens with your wetness and his cum seeps out of you. 

Creeeak. 

You were unsteady on your feet but managed to pull your pants and panties up.

Creeeak.

Shit, where’s your bra?

“Guys!” Dean yells, his voice closer than ever. His footsteps pick up the pace.

He reaches the top of the stairs to find Sam inspecting his EMF reader and you, placing a dagger back in your boot, fully dressed. 

“Oh hey, Dean.” Sam says with a casualness that left you feeling that if his cum were not leaking out of you right now, you would question if anything had actually happened. 

“What the hell? Damn near gave me a heart attack.” 

“Sorry,” Sam shrugs. “Thought we found something.” 

“Uh huh.” Dean replies, unconvinced. He glances at you, then back to Sam, and then to you again. “So, you find anything?”

“No.” You say without meeting his eyes. You frown and pretend to check out some of the grafiti. 

“Right.” Dean says.

You give him a small nod and quickly slip behind him and down the stairs. 

Once he hears the front door shut, Dean turns to Sam with a quirked brow. 

Sam looks up from the EMF reader and at Dean cooley. “Maybe there’s an attic or a back room we haven’t found?”

“Seriously? Don’t you think it’s a little messed up?”

“No, tons of old houses have cellars and hidden rooms.”

“Oh cut the bullshit, Sam.” Dean raises your pocket knife Sam hadn’t realized he picked up. He’s known you long enough to know where you stash your amo. “She doesn’t know, does she?” He frowns. 

His poker face falters and returns to a room-temperature smugness. “Is that what this is about? Me not having a soul?” Sam steps forward. “Or are you just mad that I fucked her first?” 

Tag list: @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillies444lola @n0va25 @figurantedefilme @wowzabowza69

Dm to be added/removed

[rainydrawstuff]

I realized many fics end with them living in a cabin and I just had to. This was loosely inspired by this fic by @museaway <3 endverse + happy ending >>>>

[dollarbils]

patience | b.eilish

billie eilish x fem!reader

masterlist

“what’s going on here?” your girlfriend’s sweet voice came from behind you. you were cooking in the kitchen of your shared apartment, sleeves of your oversized dress shirt rolled up to your elbows, your bra strap visible on one of your shoulders.

“im making dinner” she gravitated towards you, her hands landing on your hips. her movements laced with affection and her gaze, pure admiration.

“i can see that.” you could feel her soft breath on your neck as she peeked to see what you were doing, observing your calculated actions.

“well then let me get back to it.” you moved to the sink to wash one of the wooden spoons you’d been using, but she didn’t follow. instead, admiring you from behind.

“i can see a whole lot more aswell.” she was referring to the fact you weren’t wearing anything on the bottom, having lazily slid out of bed without bothering to put something on to cover yourself.

“are you complaining?” you turned around to look at her, as you wiped down some of the dishes you’d just washed. amusement was displayed on her face, unable to hide a yearning for you.

“why don’t we just skip to desert?” she rested her hands on your waist, trying to subtly moving your body to follow her out of the kitchen. she was anything but subtle, of course.

“billie, stop!” you laughed when her fingertips tickled the skin of your stomach. her attempts to get you to abandon the meal were unsuccessful, but surely not out of unwillingness.

“you mean you’re going to make we wait until after we eat?” she pouted as you moved to plate the food you’d prepared. you couldn’t place the soft flutters in your stomach when she put it so bluntly.

“mhm.” you smiled when she tilted her head, still pouting.

“god you’re such a tease!” she dragged her words out in a whine, before squeezing your ass firmly.

“billie!” you jumped slightly, “just be patient, baby.” she huffed in aggravation at your words.

“fuck.” she sighed before helping you set the table, never taking her eyes off your ass.

patience, was never her strong suit when it came to such circumstances.

[fics-and-quotes-andthelike]

May I request a fanfic with Dean Winchester x fem!reader, who is into cars and drives an Rx-7? She should be really sweet and innocent and her car-hobby is something you wouldn’t expect first glance. She loves drift events and works at a garage. Thank uuu!!!

Have a lovely day and remember to eat and drink enough! 💕

We Have Time

Title: We Have Time

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Word Count: ~3,825

A/N: Thank you so much @milkb0nny for the request!! I really got into this story, and I hope it lives up to what you were imagining.

And thank you for your kind words, I hope you have a great read and an amazing day!

A 1967 Chevy Impala.

You couldn’t help but stare, your jaw slack as you admired the car. You had a pretty nice car too, if you did say so yourself, but you hadn’t seen a freaking 1967 Chevy Impala in a while.

Your head tilted to the side as you slowly walked up to the car. You’d absolutely love to get your hands on it, but you could tell that the car was loved and well taken care of, and that the owner would probably never let another person lay their hands on it.

You were startled out of your thoughts when someone cleared their throat behind you. You whirled around in surprise and were suddenly standing face to face with two men. They were both tall, though one was taller than the other, with long brown hair. The other was a bit shorter, with cropped blond hair and piercing green eyes.

You could feel blood rushing up to your cheeks in embarrassment. “Sorry,” you said.

The taller man smiled kindly. “No worries. What’re you up to?”

You shook your head, your cheeks still flaming. “Nothing. Well, I was headed back to work, but I got distracted and now I’m a little late, but I should be fine, I think. I just love this car and I had to stop and take a closer look and now here we are.”

The taller man chuckled at your tangent, but the shorter man was looking behind you. You followed his stare and came face to face with your own lovely car. Your 1995 Mazda RX-7.

You turned back towards the two men when you heard the blond one finally speak. “That’s a damn nice car.”

You felt pride brimming in your chest. Of course it was. You’d kept it in pristine condition, and if there was one thing that you knew for sure, it was cars.

The man looked back towards you and offered a small smirk. “You like my car, sweetheart?.”

You smiled easily. “I love it, actually.”

His smirk grew as he put on a flirtatious voice shamelessly. “Oh, yeah? You wanna go for a ride sometime?”

The taller man made a face of disgust, but you were practically jumping for joy. “Really? You mean it?”

The shorter man blinked in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to say yes. Why wouldn’t you, though? It was a freaking Impala.

You reached out a hand, still buzzing with excitement. “I guess if you’re offering me a ride, I should introduce myself. Hi, I’m y/n.”

The taller man reached out a hand first, his handshake gentle. “I’m Sam. Nice to meet you.”

You moved your hand towards the shorter man, who took your hand in his. His grip was firm. You smiled as he introduced himself. “Dean.”

You nodded and looked back towards the car again. “So, did you mean it?”

Dean hesitated, looking you over, before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I meant it. We’re only in town for a few days, but why don’t you give me your number? I’ll take you on a ride.”

Your smile widened and you quickly recited your number as soon as Dean had his phone out. 

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and raised his eyebrows at you. “You sure about this?”

You nodded vigorously. “Yeah, of course. If you guys don’t mind me hitching a ride for a bit, obviously. I’d sit in the backseat, and I’m a good passenger.”

At that, a smile of amusement grew on Sam’s features as Dean cleared his throat. “I think you misunderstood me, sweetheart.”

A wave of disappointment crashed over you. “Oh.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “No, not like- I was thinking I’d leave the lunkhead behind and the two of us could go for a ride.”

“Oh,” you said again, relief filling your chest. “Yeah, that's fine.”

You could see Sam stifling laughter, though you weren’t sure why. You looked towards your phone and gasped lightly. You started walking backwards towards your car as you spoke. “I’ll definitely take you up on that, call me whenever. I really gotta go, but it was nice to meet you, though!”

You turned and ran the rest of the distance, hurriedly entering your car and driving off as quickly as possible in the hopes that you wouldn’t get fired for being so late.

From the same spot that you’d left them in, Sam burst out into laughter as Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam bent over, trying to catch his breath. “I don’t think she got the hint, Dean. Or maybe she’s just more interested in your car than you. You’re losing your touch.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean muttered, sulking towards Baby. Who cared what Sam said? You’d said yes to the ride, right? That had to count for something.

He looked off in the direction your car had gone in. “I can’t believe that’s her car.”

Sam threw him a look as he walked over to Baby and opened the passenger’s door. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. If you know how to take care of it.”

“Right. Because you’ve never even gotten a scratch on your car.”

“Hey,” Dean said warningly. “Baby’s been through some tough times, but she knows she can count on me.”

~~~

Dean stood still, staring at Baby. 

Sam stood to his right, staring at the damage as well. They’d been standing here for a few minutes. The worst part about it was that the hunt was already over. There was nothing and nobody for Dean to take out his anger on.

Sam glanced towards Dean, hoping that this wouldn’t cause him to go feral. He opened his mouth to offer condolences, but Dean stopped him before he could speak.

“Not a word.”

Sam nodded silently and looked back towards Baby. It definitely wasn’t pretty. 

Dean had been able to fix his car up plenty of times, but Sam had a feeling that even Dean might need some help with this one, if only so that he didn’t mope around in silence for hours as he fixed his Baby.

Not that he’d say that right now, of course. He’d wait until Dean finally stopped staring at the wreckage, first.

~~~

Dean stood a safe distance away from the car garage, leaning on Baby. His eyebrows were furrowed in anger and his arms were crossed over his chest. He’d love nothing more than to just drive away, but he’d have to come back for Sam anyway, so there was really no point.

Sam was talking to someone about the damage that Baby had sustained during the hunt. Dean wasn’t even sure what cover story they were using. He’d been too upset to ask.

Not that it mattered. They shouldn’t have come in the first place. He could’ve fixed Baby up on his own.

He still could. Maybe Sam could just walk back to the motel.

“Hey!”

He glanced towards the voice and immediately dropped his arms down by his side when he saw who the voice belonged to. He smiled, the anger in his chest subsiding slightly. “Hey yourself, sweetheart.”

You looked behind him and your eyes widened as you saw the state of his car. To say that you were surprised was an understatement. You’d definitely wanted to get your hands on that car, but you really hoped that you hadn’t just manifested an accident or something.

You looked back towards Dean. “What happened?”

Dean shook his head and closed his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

You nodded slowly, your eyes still stuck on the poor Impala. “Okay.”

Dean looked over at you. “Eyes are over here, sweetheart.”

Your eyes snapped over to Dean. “Yeah, sorry. It’s just… sorry. Anyway.”

Dean smiled slightly. “Anyway.”

You grinned. “You said you were only in town for a while, right? What brings you here, of all places?”

Dean felt a warmth in his chest, thankful that you were kind enough to try and distract him. “My brother and I are travelers. We just wander wherever the wind takes us.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms. “The wind picked a horrible time to send you here. There’s been a bunch of accidents lately. I’m getting a bit worried, honestly.”

Dean felt a small smirk creep onto his face. “Is that right? I have a feeling it’ll die down.”

You made a face. “Horrible choice of words.”

Dean’s eyes widened and he let out a small cough. “You’re right. Sorry.”

You shrugged and smiled. “It’s fine. Wandering where the wind takes you sounds fun, though. I’ll have to try it some time.”

Before Dean could respond, you heard someone call out your name. You both turned in the direction of the garage to see who it was. Your boss pointed towards the Impala and cupped her hands around her mouth to shout, “These boys need a hand with their car! You got it?”

You waved a hand to show acknowledgment. Your boss nodded and walked back into the garage.

Dean whipped his head around to face you. “You’re a mechanic?”

You smiled with pride. “Only the best in the business.”

Dean looked you up and down. “Is that right?”

“You’re the one with the beat up car.”

“Don’t.”

You grinned unapologetically. “Sorry.”

You looked up as Sam approached the two of you. “Hey,” he said, “is there anywhere around here where we can get some food?”

You nodded and pointed. “Five minute walk that way, you’re going to hit a few places and a market. Is that okay?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, that’s perfect, thanks.” He looked over at Dean. “Come on, let’s let her work.”

Dean looked over at you, who sent him a sweet smile. He shook his head slowly and turned back towards Sam. “I’ll stay here, help out with whatever.”

Sam made a sound of disbelief. “She’s a professional, Dean, she can handle it.”

“Oh, I know she can. I just want to see her in action.”

You blushed, looking away with a smile.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll be back.”

Dean nodded and watched for a moment as Sam walked away before turning back to you. “So. How long is this going to take?”

You shrugged and looked behind him, cringing at the damage. “Three days, minimum.”

Dean closed his eyes in pain before shaking his head. “Alright. Alright, that’s fine. We have time.” He opened his eyes and smiled. “So. What other surprises are you hiding?”

~~~

“That’s bull!”

Dean watched you fondly as you yelled at the television that was set up in the garage.

You were multitasking, watching Formula Drift as you worked on fixing up the Impala. Which isn’t what he had expected from you, but really, he should have known better by now.

After all, this was the third day that the two of you had been busy repairing Baby. 

Your time together had started out quietly. On day one, when you had gotten Baby to your workspace, you’d started crooning as if she were a living thing. Dean had taken a liking to you immediately after that.

As soon as you started working, the two of you made progress quickly, much faster than he could’ve ever done it on his own. It was made even faster by the fact that you were splitting tasks and helping each other out whenever possible.

The first day of work was mostly silent, except for a few short exchanges here and there.

But on day two, you two had gotten to talking. You were an open book, no secrets or lies to you at all. Well, except for the fact that you were “sweet and harmless on the outside but a tough mechanic here in the garage”, according to Dean. You’d laughed at that, causing that warmth to appear in Dean’s chest again.

You had told Dean a bit about your life, and how your family was no longer in the picture after an accident that had happened a few years back. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean had said softly.

You smiled. “Thank you.”

Dean had found himself telling you a bit about his life as well. That Mary had passed away long ago, and that John had gone more recently.

You had looked at him with such compassion in your eyes as you said, “I’m sorry, truly.”

He had nodded once in acknowledgment before he’d steered the conversation towards something else.

You were easy to talk to. Almost too easy. Today, on day three of working, Dean had almost told you what he had really been doing that had caused so much damage to the Impala. He caught himself just in time, but still marveled at how easy it was to be honest with you.

Luckily, your conversation had been cut short when your boss walked in and turned the television on. “You’ve got to see this,” was all the context that she had provided before walking out once again.

Dean had glanced at the screen in surprise when he saw Formula Drift playing, and looked over at you with even more surprise when you immediately repositioned yourself so that you could work on Baby and watch the TV at the same time.

You’d been working and watching the competition for a while now, instructing Dean to hand you a tool every once in a while or giving him a job to do when you didn’t want to tear your gaze away from the screen.

But even with your focus divided, Dean could see how loving and careful you were being with Baby.

He couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on you when he saw how passionate you were with both the Impala and the competition. You were muttering to yourself as you worked, and looking up at the screen every once in a while to make sure you didn’t miss anything.

He wasn’t even really paying attention to the screen, or Baby, to be honest. His gaze was focused on you.

You threw your hands up in frustration and shouted at the screen before looking over at him. “You saw that, right? You saw that, I know you did.”

Dean nodded, not really even sure what he was agreeing to. “Yeah, I saw it.”

You huffed out a breath of anger and stood. “I can’t watch this anymore, it’s too much. We’re almost done here, do you want to see if Sam has some food for you?”

Dean looked down in surprise to see that you were indeed almost done with your work. A quick glance at the clock on the wall let him know that the two of you had been working hours.

He looked over at you. “Yeah, sure. We’ve been at it for a while, don’t you get breaks or something?”

You smiled. “Yeah. I’m trying to subtly ask you if I can take my break now.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Yeah, no, of course. Let’s eat, I’m starved.”

He turned away from you, but stopped when he heard you groan again. He looked back to see you bouncing on your toes as you watched the screen.

You made eye contact with Dean. “I’m coming, just give me two seconds.” You looked back at the TV.

Dean shook his head in amusement and walked back over to you, gently placing one hand on your shoulder and using his other hand to grab one of yours. He slowly led you away even as you stared at the screen.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he mumbled.

“It’s just-”

“I know.”

“It’s so stupid, he didn’t even-”

“I know, I’m sorry. Come on.”

“Dean, are you seeing this?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Come on, you can do it, I believe in you.”

He finally led you away from the screen, releasing you as soon as the tension faded from your body.

You laughed in embarrassment. “Sorry about that.”

Dean smiled back. “What’re you sorry for? I get it.”

You grinned, looking down at your feet. “How long are you staying in town for?”

Dean’s heart sped up. So you had definitely caught on to his not-so-subtle flirtations over the last few days. 

You looked up and smiled hopefully. Dean had been nothing but kind and sweet, and you were hoping that he’d at least entertain the idea of the two of you spending more time together. Especially since he’d been hinting at it for a while now.

But as you watched his smile start to fade, you realized that your hopes had only been silly little dreams. Nothing more.

He looked away. “We don’t usually stay in one place for long. We’ll probably be out as soon as Baby’s ready to go.”

You could feel your heart drop down to your feet, but you forced a smile on your lips. “Yeah, that makes sense. Traveling with the wind and all.”

Dean nodded, still not looking you in the eye.

You cleared your throat and nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll get Baby up and running soon. I’m just going to grab some food and I’ll get back to it.”

You turned your back on Dean before he could reply and walked away swiftly. You furiously wiped at your eyes as you felt them well up. 

You didn’t know why you were so upset. Why would Dean put his life on hold for you when you’d only just met? Just because the two of you had some things in common? Or maybe because he had allowed you to be open and vulnerable without judgment. Or maybe because you had seen the way that he was looking at you as you worked, even though he hadn’t seen that you were looking at him the exact same way.

You stopped walking when you knew that you were out of Dean’s sight and leaned against a wall. There was no one like him in your small town, and you doubted you would ever meet anyone like him again. Someone tough but kind, eyes haunted by his past even as he tried to make sure that others didn’t have to suffer the way he did. Someone who made you feel like you had time to take things slow, and let things click into place.

You straightened and took a deep breath. You couldn’t let this affect you. Yeah, it hurt that Dean had led you to believe that you might become something, but when it came down to it, you’d only known each other a few days. No matter how much you liked him, you had to stay focused.

Even if Dean didn’t stay, you had a job to do.

~~~

“She asked you to stay?”

Dean shook his head. “No. No, she didn’t. She asked how long we’re staying for.”

Sam threw his hands up. “Same thing! What’d you tell her?”

“The truth.”

Sam spluttered. “The truth?”

Dean made a face. “Not the whole truth, I’m not insane.”

“You’ve done it before,” Sam pointed out.

“We’re getting off topic. Look, I just told her that we never stay in one place long, and that we were leaving when Baby was ready.”

“Dean,” Sam said in exasperation. “You’ve been flirting with the poor girl for days. Now she probably thinks she did something wrong.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

Sam stayed quiet for a moment. There was nothing that Dean could do to fix this. Not really. Not unless…

Sam sat up straighter. “Okay, listen. Maybe we can stay a bit longer.”

Dean shook his head. “We have a job to do, Sammy.”

“What job, Dean? We don’t have any new leads. Garth hasn’t called, and Cass hasn’t told us that the world is ending again.”

“Yeah, but-”

“We have time, Dean. Take advantage of it.”

Dean shook his head again. “Sammy, listen-”

“No, Dean, for once in your life, you listen to me. I can see the way you look at this girl. Hell, her boss sees it, too. I know our life makes it almost impossible to settle down, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.” “Sammy-”

“Wouldn’t you say the same thing to me if Jess was still around?”

Dean stayed silent. Sam was right, of course. He’d love nothing more than for his brother to be able to settle down peacefully with the love of his life. 

He took a deep breath and looked up at Sam. “Alright, I hear you.” Sam nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now, go get her, tiger.”

~~~

You looked up and smiled as Dean entered your workstation again. 

“We’re almost done. Just a few last tweaks and you’ll be out of here.”

Dean stood across the room from you, his hands in his pockets.

You frowned in concern. “Hey. You okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m alright. But, uh, there’s been a change in plans.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Oh?”

Dean offered you a small smile. “We’re actually going to be staying here a little longer than we thought.”

You could feel your heart speed up in your chest, but tried to squash down your expectations. “Really?”

He nodded. “I still need to give you that ride, don’t I?”

You laughed in relief, allowing the flood of feelings that you’d been pushing back to move forward, front and center. “Yeah, you do. What made you change your mind?”

At that, Dean walked forward until he was standing beside you. “I think you know.”

You smiled. “Maybe. But I’d still like to know.”

Dean grinned and gently patted his Impala. “Well, Baby, of course. I need to be nearby in case you’re not as good as you say you are, so that I can make you pay for damages.”

You laughed. “Fair enough. You want to finish her up with me?”

“Obviously.”

You hummed. “We’re almost done, though. Where are you going to take me?”

Dean shook his head. “It’s a surprise.”

“Not always a great idea to keep a first date destination a surprise,” you said, surprised with your own boldness.

Dean chuckled. “First date, huh?”

You took a step closer to him. “Maybe. Is it?”

Dean lowered his head towards yours. “Absolutely.”

You could feel warmth radiating off of him in waves, allowing yourself to be comforted by his presence as you tilted your head up towards him. 

Before you could even register what was going on, your boss burst into the room. “Hey, I have a guy out here asking for help, are you-”

You buried your face in your hands in embarrassment as Dean stepped back, looking up at the ceiling to hide his flushed cheeks.

Your boss slowly backed away, pulling the door closed behind her. “Sorry about that. Carry on.”

You peered out from behind your hands and looked up at Dean. “Maybe we should save that for our date. You know, just in case my boss decides to walk in again.”

Dean smiled, the warmth in his chest stronger than ever before. “Don’t worry about it. 

We have time.”

A/N: Part 2!

[fandom-hoarder]

For @wincestwednesdays Wincest Fest

7/24 Prompt: sunshine

_

tastes like sunshine

The road is smooth, and Baby purrs strong and steady under Dean’s hands as he drives. Dean glances over to the passenger seat for what feels like the millionth—billionth—time, finding his brother still beside him, sleeping peacefully; mouth open; his large hand holding his place in the book he fell asleep reading. Sun breaks through the clouds in the sky, and shines itself across Sam’s face like a caress, chin to cheek, becoming increasingly insistent. Sam scrunches his face, shying away from the light and its wakefulness. Sam is twelve and sixteen and twenty-two and twenty-nine and thirty-seven and timeless all at once, and Dean can’t stop staring.

Sam scrunches again, turning his face into the seat, poorly hiding the pink blooming in his cheeks and across his nose. Dean can’t help the adoring grin that stretches his cheeks.

“You’re gonna crash if you don’t look at the road soon,” Sam says, his voice thick with sleep and smothered affection.

“And what? We’re already dead, Sammy,” Dean quips.

Sam snorts softly. His soft, pink mouth spreads helplessly, white teeth peeking out between his lips. Dean reaches over—ruffles Sam’s hair, strokes his cheek where the sun caressed it—and Sam’s smile spreads, face alight and eyes aglow. And Dean wants—-

Sam’s lips are warm, and taste like sunshine when Dean covers them with his. Sam’s book slides to the floor as he reaches for Dean’s face, kissing him back. And it’s Heaven.

[deadly-omen]

Sam and Dean have been on the road for hours following a lead to a potential vampires nest. Sam is restless and wants to stretch his legs but Dean refuses to stop. Guess Sam will have to find another way to burn some energy.

-

"Deeeean," Sam said, his voice a mix of frustration and annoyance. "Seriously, you've been driving for hours. You need a break and so do I."

"I'm fine," Dean said, his fingers thumping on the steering wheel to the tune of Led Zeppelin that crackled through the radio static.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're not fooling anyone, Dean."

Dean's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he shot Sam a sideways glance. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam smirked, his eyes lingering on Dean’s profile. "It means you're about as relaxed as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs."

Dean rolled his eyes. "What are you, a doctor now?" He retorted, trying to keep his irritation in check.

"No, just your observant little brother," Sam replied, his eyes flicking to Dean's crotch.

Dean's eyes followed Sam's gaze, his cheeks flushing as he realized his erection was noticeable.

Sam leaned closer to him. "Looks like someone likes to hear me whine. Is that why you won't stop?"

Dean's jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving the road. "Keep it up, Sammy," he warned, his voice low and gruff.

Sam took that as a challenge. He slid his hand up Dean's thigh, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of his boxers. "What's the matter, big brother? Can't handle a little distraction?"

Dean's breathing grew ragged with each stroke of Sam's thumb. "I'm handling it," he said, though the strain in his voice betrayed him.

Sam leaned in closer, his breath hot against Dean's ear. "Are you sure?" he murmured, his hand moving to cup the bulge in his brother's pants. "You seem pretty... tense."

Dean's grip tightened on the steering wheel, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. The last thing they needed was to get pulled over because of Sam’s shenanigans. "Sam, stop it.”.

But Sam's hand was already moving, unzipping Dean's pants and wrapping around his shaft. "What's the matter?" he whispered, stroking him gently. "Afraid of a little roadside entertainment?"

Dean's breath hitched as he felt his cock spring free from its confines, his body betraying him despite his best efforts to maintain control. "Sam," he warned again, his voice a mix of desire and frustration.

But Sam was already lost in his task, his hand moving in a steady rhythm as he worked Dean's cock. His thumb circled the sensitive head, coating it in precum that glistened in the soft light of the car's dashboard.

"You're gonna make me wreck Baby," Dean gasped, his eyes darting to the road and back to Sam's hand.

Sam's grin grew wider. "Wouldn't want that," he murmured, his hand slowing but not stopping. "But if you're really worried, you could always pull over."

Without warning, he leaned over and took Dean into his mouth. The suddenness of it made Dean's hips jerk, and the car swerved slightly. "Sam!" he exclaimed, his eyes going wide with shock and pleasure.

Sam's mouth was hot and wet and the feel of his brother's cock on his tongue was almost too much to handle. He'd fantasized about this so many times, but the reality was so much better than he could have ever imagined. He sucked harder, feeling Dean's body tense up with every stroke of his tongue. The taste was intoxicating, and he could feel the tension in Dean's muscles as he fought to keep the car on the road.

Dean's breath was coming in ragged gasps now, his eyes fixed on the horizon as he tried to focus on anything other than the incredible sensation of Sam's mouth on him. "Fuck, Sam," he moaned, his voice strained. "You can't do this to me while I'm driving."

Sam ignored his brother's protests, his eyes closed in concentration as he took Dean deeper, his hand still working in tandem with his mouth. The smell of arousal filled the car, mingling with the stale scent of fast food and gasoline.

Dean's hips began to rock slightly in rhythm with Sam's movements, his body responding instinctively despite his efforts to remain still. The car's engine roared as he shifted gears, trying to keep their speed steady despite the distraction. His heart hammered in his chest, a mix of arousal and anxiety. "Sam, we're gonna—"

But before Dean could finish his sentence, blue lights flashed in the rearview mirror, cutting through the dim light of the car's cabin. An authoritative siren wailed, breaking the erotic haze that had descended upon them.

"Shit!" Dean exclaimed, his eyes flicking to the mirror before he yanked the steering wheel to the right, pulling the Impala onto the gravelly shoulder of the highway. Sam sat back hastily, tucking his brother back into his pants and zipping him up as quickly as he could.

The patrol car pulled up behind them, the red and blue lights dancing across the car's dusty exterior. The siren cut out, leaving only the sound of their own racing hearts and the tick of the cooling engine.

The policeman, tall and broad-shouldered, stepped out of his vehicle, the shadow of his hat hiding his eyes. His boots crunched on the gravel as he approached Dean's window, his flashlight beam piercing into Dean’s eyes like a knife.

"License and registration," the officer said, his voice firm and commanding. The light flickered up and down as he scanned the interior of the Impala, his eyes lingering briefly on Sam's flushed face and swollen lips before returning to Dean.

Dean's hand trembled slightly as he handed over the paperwork, trying for a casual tone. "Long day," he offered by way of explanation for his erratic driving. "Just trying to get home, you know?"

The cop nodded, his expression unreadable. He took the documents and headed back to his cruiser, leaving the brothers in silence.

Dean shot Sam a glare, but his eyes couldn't help but linger on those smug lips. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Sam's smirk only grew wider. "Maybe a little," he admitted, his voice a low purr.

Dean couldn't help but smile slightly at Sam’s confession, despite the situation. "You're such a brat," he said, though there was no malice in his words. The tension between them had shifted again, the fear of getting caught adding an unexpected thrill to the moment.

Sam leaned back in his seat, his smirk growing as he watched the cop retreat to his cruiser. "Hey, you're the one who said no pit stops."

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean for you to start a whole new kind of pit party in my pants," Dean grumbled, voice laced with false annoyance.

Sam's smirk grew, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Couldn't resist," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down Dean's spine.

The policeman returned to the window, handing over the license and registration with a stern look. "I'm going to let you off with a warning this time. Better keep it between the lines from this point forward.”

"Thank you," Dean forced out, his voice tight, trying not to betray his earlier state of arousal. He took the paperwork, his eyes not meeting the officer’s. The cop's gaze lingered on him for a beat longer than necessary before nodding curtly and heading back to his car.

As soon as the cruiser's lights disappeared in the rearview, Dean slammed the Impala back into gear and peeled out onto the road, his eyes flashing to Sam. The adrenaline from the close call only added to the unspent tension in the car. Without saying a word, he reached over and grabbed a fistful of Sam's hair, pulling him towards the bulge in his pants.

Sam didn't need any explanation and immediately unzipped Dean's pants, freeing his brother's cock once again. He took it into his mouth, sucking eagerly as if he'd been waiting for this moment all his life. His tongue swirled around the sensitive head, drawing out a low groan from Dean's chest.

Dean's hand found its way to the back of Sam's head, his fingers threading through the soft strands of hair. He gripped it tightly, guiding the rhythm, his other hand a stark contrast, white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

Sam moaned around Dean's cock, the vibration sending shivers of pleasure through his older brother’s body. He knew Dean was close, could feel the tension in the muscles of his thighs, the way he gripped the wheel.

With a groan, Dean thrust into Sam’s mouth one last time, pushing his head down as far as it would go. Sam’s eyes watered, but he didn’t fight it, eagerly swallowing around the intrusion as Dean’s cum shot down his throat. The taste of salt, and something so uniquely Dean, filled his mouth. He hummed at the taste as he swallowed around Dean, his throat working to accommodate the force of his brother’s release.

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean panted, his hand finally releasing Sam's head.

Sam sat back in his seat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes gleamed in the dim light of the car as he flashed Dean a smirk.

"Better?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.

Dean's chuckle was strained, his chest heaving with the aftermath of his orgasm. "Awesome," he conceded, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. He took a moment to regain his composure before focusing on the road ahead. "But we're still not stopping."

Sam huffed as he slumped back in his seat, his eyes narrowing in playful annoyance. "Jerk," he murmured, though the word was devoid of any actual malice. He licked his lips, savoring the lingering taste of his older brother.

"Bitch.” Dean couldn't help but chuckle, his grip on the steering wheel loosening.

-

[missmarveledsblog]

Oh boy ( Dean Winchester x Reader) part two

Summary : y/n still reeling in the events of the day calling the one person , she knows that can help , while dean needs answers only it never that easy in the life of a hunter when guests begin to arrive

warning : fun fluffy angsty times ft some cryptids and family , what life without a little arson thrown in there too

previously on Oh boy

Standing on the porch , her house secluded like most around , she was high alert looking out the windows and surrounding , the once safe space didn’t feel so safe. Putting the keys into the lock knowing it was too dangerous to stay there but nowhere to go with only one person she knew she could rely on when it came to this and keeping Mikey protected . reasoning with herself that she didn’t break the promise to keep him away , another part of her knowing she could never keep him away , but one thing she was adamant on was not raising him like she was . where every day was a mission instead of a day to live and take in the world around them even if that world could be hell on earth but it had its nice parts . Another thing was she never noticed or chose not to see how much mikey looked like him , the little carbon copy of the man she tried so hard to forget the same sandy blonde hair and those piercing green eyes . she silently wondered if mannerisms matched , taste or stuff like that were the same but giving what she knew now maybe it was even more for the best that he stayed away . Kicking herself for the one man she had one night stand with was a hunter too. That much was clear and the fake name sort made sense ( didn’t mean she wasn’t pissed off at the fact) . pulling her phone out hovering over the contact she finally hit the button

“ hey i need you “ she steadied her breathe but it was no use today was close call to much of a close call to ignore .

It wasn’t possible , it couldn’t be possible and yet it was . pacing the room thinking back to that night , the way he introduced himself , the flirting and the night she was under him and now here he was back and she was still here but now he was here too . trying to convince himself it wasn’t what it looked like that, that it couldn’t be what it looked like . yet the kid looked like him even he could see that much but stuff like that can happen right?

“Maybe ask her instead of torturing yourself “ sam voice called.

“ but we used something i’m sure of it” he stood now trying to think if they did or didn’t.

“ not always fool proof “

“ Well that much is clear genius “ he scoffed, ready to grab his coat as well as a piece of paper with her address that michelle gave sam under the guise of needing to ask y/n what she saw or what mikey saw. hated to say how much Sam was right he needed to know , what he did with the knowledge was still so unclear but he couldn't just ignore the fact that this could be his child.

“ Be nice and don't lose it …forget it im coming “ sam stood knowing it was a mess , but this was his brothers mess albeit support and someone to be impartial would help . The drive was quiet, not even the sounds of 80s classic rock was blaring from the speakers , eyes watching the road and everything around it . pulling up night dark and the night air blowing through the trees . the little house filled with light and sounds of a gun clicking .

“woah annie oakley it just us” dean called hands raise .

“ yeah i don't think that gonna get her put the gun down … we , he just wants to talk” sam called voice of reason when the gun lowered and soft sigh out of her mouth nodding for them to coming in watching around before closing the door .

“ mikey just gone to to sleep so voices down” she warned heading off letting them follow . deans eyes looking picture all along the narrow hallway . various stages of the little boy's life big bright smiles on his face .

“ Ask “ she looked up knowing it was on tip of his tongue ready to spill from his lips .

“ well … you know “ he looked around never thinking this was conversation he was in his life . “ is he mine ? like you sure he's not… like some other guys right” .

“ yes he's yours and contrary to the situation i don't sleep with guys i meet at the bar” she hissed feeling her cheeks heat up with embarrassment or anger maybe both at the insinuating remark. “ look you can do dna if you want but i've no reason to lie to you , i'm not asking you for anything either “ she stood , she had speech ready for when this day would come and yet words she had memorized vanished , hidden in some corner of her mind not willing to be know.

“ Why didn't you track me down ? , you should have told me “ his own tempter starting to flare.

“ i did only to be met with an 80 retired FBI agent that didn't know his ass from his elbow , how can i track you down when i don't even know your name … god how fucking bad is that “ she laughed dryly .

“dean my name dean” he said a lot cooler knowing he was more to blame than she was.

“ I'm Sam by the way , I know I said it earlier … you ok “ he asked only for her to burst out laughing.

It wasn't a laugh that she found it funny no she felt like she was losing her mind , of course it would be , she knew them not personally clearly but she knew of the brothers only for the sequence of knock to make her stand and rush to the door .

“ How the hell did you get here so fast “ her voice sounded surprised , impressed and confused .

“ Well I'll explain it later this …” that voice that made his eye widen more and both brothers to look at each other and to the door .

“ what you two are doing in my nieces house“ there stood bobby singer .

“ oh come on “ dean almost yelled looking up at the ceiling .

“Oh boy “ sam winced .

The silence was deafening , awkward tension, each wanting to talk and not finding the words . all emotions flying around in a situation none of them could see coming . Yet now to bobby it all made sense from mikey to the fake agent kicking himself for not putting the piece together a lot sooner.

“ Why is everyone so quiet “ cas finally looked around.

“ Because dean knocked up my niece” Bobby gritted as the two cringed and Sam was wondering if there was popcorn available . “ You realise she is only twenty six right ? “ he glared at the man .

“ So she was ..oh dean what the hell man “ sam grimaced .

“ barely just barely turned twenty one “ Bobby hissed.

she went to defend it but the sound of her laugh , one she wasn't letting out of her own mouth could be heard out back . then the screams following as she got up not caring what it was as she ran down the hall almost falling over as she ran into the room to see Mikey was always running towards her , he wasn’t the only thing as it broke through the boys bedroom window and charge as she pulled him out and slammed the door . holding it with all her strength while it was pulling it over.

“ Cas take Mikey to our motel room “ was all Sam said before she watched the two instantly gone .

“ MOVE” dean appeared in front of her with her shot gun as she drop to the ground the sound of the blast and the creature to scream as she crawl scamper to her feet running to the kitchen as she grab the aerosol spray and lighter off the counter before running back to the door shoving the brother out of the way as she began spraying and lifting the light in a makeshift blowtorch as it went up in flames crashing around the room before falling out the window,

“ WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT” bobby yelled .

“ Wendigo, “ the three said in unison .

“ Where is my son , what is he” she poked sam in the chest .

“ Cas is an angel , mikey is safe back in our motel maybe be safer if you got room too” sam winced .

“ he’s not wrong , that tracked you down “ dean opened the door as she stormed past taking the shot gun .

“ it’s still alive” she huffed seeing the tracks heading back to the woods and the smell of burnt rotten flesh in the air . “Take Bobby to mikey i need to pack up “ storming past the men .

“ i’ll stay with her “ dean shook his head handing sam the key , “ be careful” he added.

“ We'll be fine “ bobby wave him away.

“ he meant with baby “ sam rolled his eyes as they headed off.

She barely even wanted to think of anything, only a slight relief that Mikey was safe or that she had to convince herself he was but Bobby wouldn’t let harm come to him . in a big joke that life held just for her , she get pregnant by a Winchester and seriously regretted the bliss of thinking it was a low life scammer and now she was being hunted down by a wendigo that had said brothers in town in the first place . it was an ironic fucking mess and it was her life because of course it was . grabbing the suitcases she headed to Mikey room first grabbing his clothes and thing that she deemed most important as dean stood at the door .

“ those three draws just throw em in “ she threw him a case before going around the house grabbing more irreplaceable things as well as some clothes for herself. She trying not let the tears fall down her cheeks pulling trying to decided what to take with her , grabbing the gun from the safe as she watched her surrounding bring it out to her car before heading back into the house. Five trips between them as she grabbed an ex heading into her bed room she began smash the bottom of her closet as he watched seeing one big huge luggage case hidden . watching as she struggled to carry it rolling his eyes before grabbing the handle feeling the weight of the thing.

“ you got a dead body in this thing” he grunted pulling it with her .

“ no but it can make one “ he could have sworn he saw her wink which honestly didn’t ease any kind of tension before she ran back into the house and coming out with a tox box on wheels a purchase she was definitely thankful for now as she threw it into the back of her car.

“ You go start the car” she handed him her keys .

“ don’t you wanna lock up? “ he asked . Without a reply or words she grabbed the canister out of the bush and threw it in the house along with what he could make out was a burning roll of toilet paper.

“ GO “ She yelled, jumping into the car .

“ What the hell you doing “ he looked back at the burning house.

“ We don't have time to explain now, go “ she snapped as hit the gas, watching her house up in flames along with the hope she finally had a home .

The roads bare as the two drove her eye watching the tree almost checking for movement. Luckily for her the town wasn’t filled with many of them for something of its caliber to move incognito but she knew she was gonna have to get Mikey out of here as soon as possible .

“ Now you wanna tell me what hell that was?” he asked .

“ burn the place so it can’t use our home or try to get our scent from anything in there and nothing else can come from it too “ she explained in a way it made sense but it didn't make it less nuts .

“ sooo what's in the big case?” .

“guns , ammo , katana, you know the essentials”.

“Where are you gonna go? “

“ I don't know but I'll figure it out, I always do” she smiled weakly as she could see the motel coming into view . she sat up straighter almost out the door only for she didn’t know which room it was. almost on his back as she followed when the door opened and little body hit her when she broke.

“ mama did you get the monster?” .

“ hey buddy give yer mama minute kay"bobby patted her back .

“ i didn’t but i will “ she sniffled wiping her eyes checking him over.

“ mama Cas is an angel , he got us here in a blink and , and then we watched cartoons “ he said excitedly .

“ thank you castiel “ she smiled weakly .

“ The little human is quite fun, “ he smiled back .

“ bobby i need a favor “ she stood looking at the older man .

“ any thing kid you know that “ he nodded.

“ need you get Mikey out of town , i'll come get him”

“ what you up to girl i can see it on your face ”.

“ It made it personal .. im going hunting"

Taglist : @msrawog

[i-already-know-im-going-2-hell]

I very honestly think that anytime the Impala is permanently totaled in a fic that minor character death should be used

[winpocalypse]

Your reblog of that season 3 gifset with bratty Sam made me think of how Sam’s rebelliousness parallels Mary’s and Dean’s desire to control parallels John’s. Very sexy of them. They aren’t married but they are a married couple because they’re JohnMary 2.0

they are so johnmary coded i can't stand them!!!!

[samanddean76]

Title: Money Back Guarantee

Ship: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Word Count: 694 | Rating: Explicit

Major Warnings: None Apply

Tags: Stanford Era, Dancer Sam Winchester, Customer Dean Winchester, Anal Plug, Sam Wears Daisy Dukes, Dean Appreciates The View, Sex in/on the Impala, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, Kinktober 2024, Kinktober Prompt: XXX-Store Viewing Booth

Summary: Sam needs a little money to cover his expenses while at Stanford. It's all good until the night the window shade raises and reveals a familiar face.

Written for @masoena 's October 27th Kinktober prompt of XXX-Store Viewing Booth.

Story on AO3.

[nyxocity]

Baby Let Me Bang Your Tail Pipe - Dean/Impala/Dom Toretto (explicit)

After the most inexplicable three hours of his life, Dean stands in Dominic Toretto’s garage, which is empty except for the Impala, because Dom’s car is in about fifty billion pieces at the bottom of the river in downtown.

“She was eighty percent badass, twenty percent sweetheart,” Dom had said, somber when Dean had extended his condolences.

Dean had only met Dom three hours and twenty eight explosions ago, but he likes him a lot already.

“Listen,” Dean says, appreciative, “if you hadn’t driven through those three buildings and killed ninety-seven people, me and Sam would be dead right now. I feel like I at least owe you a beer.”

Dean pulls a brown bottle of Margiekugel beer out of the cooler in the backseat of the Impala and hands it to Dom. The second it touches Dom’s hand, it turns into a bottle of Corona.

Dom is beginning to walk around the Impala, looking at the car with undisguised appreciation in his eyes. “Nineteen-sixty-seven Chevy Impala, one of only seven thousand produced, 327 V-8 Turbo-Fire 275 horsepower, dual exhaust pipes, slammed down on a built Hotchkiss performance suspension.”

Dean stares at him in surprise. “Dude. I haven’t even popped her hood yet.”

Dom shakes his head. “Some things you just know. Not built to race, but she purred like a lion earlier,” Dom goes on, his voice low and husky. His dark eyes rake over the Impala’s polished lines and curves, admiration and dark dirty lust Dean recognizes all to well shining in them. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is.” Dean slides a hand along the shiny hood with a proud smile. “Listen. I owe you for what you did today, but I don’t let just anyone put their hands on my girl.”

“You know what happened today?”

“I know you drove through three buildings made out of glass and steel, crashed into a semi, flew through a windshield and landed on the hood of another car before grabbing a rope hanging from a nearby crane and swinging over the edge of a bridge, dropping two miles straight down into a river just before everything exploded for absolutely no reason—including the bridge.”

Dom seems unimpressed by Dean’s recount of everything that had happened on the bridge, and Dean thinks that must be a regular Tuesday for this guy.

“And I saved your lives,” Dom says.

“Yeah.” Dean nods. “I still don’t get how landing on the hood of a car flying at a hundred and thirty miles an hour cushions your impact.”

“Skill.” Dom smirks.

Dean thinks for a moment. “I still don’t get how you’re alive. I’ve died seven times doing way less than that.” He frowns. “A hundred and seven times if you count that one Tuesday.”

Dom takes a drink from his Corona and walks towards him, his eyes squinted nearly shut as he focuses on Dean. “You don’t understand. What I did—what we went through today—that makes us family now.”

“Family, huh?” Dean eyes Dom up and down. “That might make this vibe a little weird.”

Dom huffs out a short, rough laugh. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen how you look at your brother.”

Dean licks his lips, eyefucking Dom harder. “Well in that case, maybe we can—”

“Just the car, Dean.” Sam’s voice is muffled, coming from outside the garage door.

“How can he hear me?” Dean whispers.

Dom nods in the direction of the Impala. “What do you think?”

And well, the guy had defied every law of physics known to man, beast and amoebas and blown up his car and everything else in a fifty mile radius—somehow—to save their lives. Dean supposes the least he can do is share his baby to make up for the loss of Dom’s. He’d like to have Sam join and all four of them could have a good time, but Sam seems to want to sit this one out.

“Do you want to see her, first?” Dean asks.

They look under her hood, Dom touching her parts reverently with gentle fingers, and Dean watches on with approval as Dom compliments her engine. They do a tour of her gorgeously lined, sleek body, and finally Dom rounds the Impala and kneels down by the back bumper.

“Look at the chrome on these tail pipes.” He gives a low whistle of appreciation.

“I take good care of her. I’m a gentleman,” Dean proclaims, walking around to stand next to him. The tailpipes gleam like a diamond in the garage light, spotless and shined to perfection. The left one is his favorite, and he finds his eyes drawn to it like a magnet, cock stiffening at the thought. The darkness at its center calls to him, begs him to take her like he has so many times before—and he will. But not today.

“Be sweet to her. Treat her like a lady,” Dean tells Dom, palm sliding along the edge of her trunk.

“Of course,” Dom agrees, like there was never any question.

“What do you think, old girl?” Dom asks, his fingertips teasing at the center of her hole. “Think you can take me?”

Dean wants to watch, he really does, but he’s got his own hard cock to think about, and they could each take a tail pipe but that could lead to taking each other and Sam specifically anti-approved that. That means he’s going to use the hood and rub off between her headlights. He pulls two bottles of lube out of the glove compartment and hands one to Dom, keeping the other for himself.

He lets his fingers glide along her curves as he walks back to the hood, his raging hard on seeming to pull him along.

He takes a little time, feeling up her headlights, running his hands along the lines of her hood, fingers teasing in the ridges of the grill. He teases until he can hardly stand it, blood pounding, cock painfully hard, and stands up, undoing his jeans and pushing them down around his hips.

His slicks the shaft generously with lube, shoving the bottle in his back jeans pocket and then lowers his hips, shivers racing up his spine fast as the car Dom had blown to smithereens earlier. He lets his dicks slide across the smooth, shiny, waxed surface of her hood and shudders with delight.

Dean pumps his hips like the pistons lying still beneath her hood, feeling the drag and pull of her sleek, cool metal. He can hear Dom grunting, groaning, see his hands caressing the Impala’s trunk, grabbing hold of it as the car rocks harder and harder, hood rubbing against Dean’s dick with sweet friction.

“Oh, what a… good… girl…” Dom grunts, punctuating the pauses between words with thrusts of his hips, and Dean almost comes right there, hearing Dom praising his girl for being such a good fuck.

His girl. And she is good. She’s so good, and Dean doesn’t even have to move anymore, Dom’s twists and thrusts rocking the car back and forth against Dean’s shaft, faster and harder and he can feel the reverberation all through him, feel the tightening in his balls and stomach, orgasm rising up fast and hard inside him.

It hits him like a freight train, like a bullet to the brain blowing out the back of his skull, hips grinding the slick of his come against the hood, so wet and slippery and god it feels like heaven. But he knows nothing feels as good as her tail pipe, that perfect, dark hole filled with lube, dripping wet and taking him deep—the way she’s taking Dom right now—and he can hear the other man coming, feel the graceless rocking of the car as he loses all rhythm, grunting and spurting inside her.

Dean’s eyes roll back in his head and he comes with a violent burst, whiting out with pleasure. He leans against the hood, panting heavily, aftershocks running through his nerves, slick from belly to chest with come, and he leans down, presses his lips to her metal.

“So gorgeous. You never let me down, baby.”

At the back of the car, Dom has gotten to his feet, leaning heavily against the trunk. Through the windshield and rear windows separating them, they share a smile.

“Are you guys done fucking the car yet?” Sam’s voice is less muffled this time from outside the door.

“Just need to clean up,” Dean answers.

When they’re done cleaning her, Dom hands him back the cleaning cloth and gives him a wide smile.

“You know,” he says, “I have an Impala, too. Sexy red and white number, gorgeous chrome.”

Dean can feel his dick trying to get hard again. “Introduce me?”

Dom nods.

“And Sam, too?”

“Of course.” Dom grins. “We’re all family now.”

And they all got into the Impala and sped off down the street, hitting a ramp and flying over two tractor trailers, a space station and sling-shotting around the sun before crashing down and screeching off into the sunset.

[zepskies]

🎙️ Podcast Fic: Smoke Eater Sequel!! ❤️‍🔥

Ready for some more Smoke Eater content? (Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader)

My friend Sandra (@talltalesandbedtimestories), one of the lovely hosts of the Idling in the Impala podcast, graciously narrated another story for me. And she did a BRILLIANT job. 😭 🙌🏽

This time, we have the sequel story to Smoke Eater: Something Real.

If you want to listen to Something Real in podcast form, check out the episode here (sexy bits included)! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

About Idling in the Impala 💖💖

Please do check out the Idling in the Impala podcast! Sandra and Kasey (@sam-is-my-safe-word) are amazing. And if you love Supernatural, this podcast is for you. They chat about the show, the actors, about fandom, fanfiction, and so much more!

There you'll also find interviews with fanfic writers and content creators, as well as podfic episodes like this one.^ (They're on YouTube and Spotify.)

Also, thanks so much @spnfanficpond for partnering with Sandra on offering the podfic narration as a prize!

Want More Podfics? 🎙️

Sandra has also narrated two other stories for me...

Smoke Eater - Part 1:

Midnight Espresso:

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

So, the utterly lovely @talltalesandbedtimestories does podfics as part of the @idlingintheimpalapodcast. She's recently finished narrating @runawaydr3amerao3's AMAZING West Series and I'm sharing links to it on YouTube so that I can find them to listen to while I'm at work and also in case anyone else would like to listen to this insanely hot Wincest fic.

USE HEADPHONES this is an Explicit fic.

But also, don't the thumbnails look good? Just such great photos of the boys 😍.

[castielafflicted]

fucking Sjonnie 1k event <3 I turned my cat into Castiel. I will be taking no further questions.

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  We're Counting On You, Lord

Series: Supernatural B-Sides

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  Supernatural

Rating:  Teen

Synopsis: In my headcanon Baby's a bit more tempermental than she is on-camera, and breakdowns happen often enough Sam has a routine down when it comes to busting Dean's balls over it.

Tags:  Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, Baby the Impala, Baby is a brat, Sam is a brat, Dean is a brat, songfic

AN:  Song is "Mercedes Benz," written by Janis Joplin, Michael McClure, and Bob Neuworth, performed by Joplin on the album 'Pearl.' All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any copyrights or trademarks. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and protected by Fair Use.

---

If asked, Dean Winchester will call his car the perfect hunter's car.  Sure she drinks gas like water and doesn't do off-road, like, at all, and don't even ask about parking.  But the pros -- bench seats for emergency sleeping, trunk big enough for a small apartment's worth of gear, all sorts of nooks and crannies for hiding spare cash and ammo, surprisingly inconspicuous for her size and age, able to cruise at 70 for days -- far outweigh the cons as far as he's concerned.  Power, beauty, and able to bounce back from everything the job can possibly throw at them.  They're a matched set, Dean will tell you.

If asked, Sam Winchester will point out that the car sticks out like a bobcat at a dog show, the air conditioning barely works no matter how much Dean screws around with it, its zero-to-sixty can be measured in days, it eats brake pads like they're potato chips, and why in the hell hasn't Dean upgraded the suspension because he swears he can feel the car crying whenever it hits a pothole.  And with the amount of time they spend taking secondary highways, that's a lot of crying.

Most of his gripes get shot down with an annoyed glower and, "One word-- legroom."  And Sam will admit, Dean's got him there.  Getting stuck in Brady's Alfa Romeo Spyder had not exactly been the high point of his freshman year.

Questions about reliability will produce similarly opposed responses.  Dean will swear on any holy book you hand to him that Baby's a perfect lady, never breaks down, never strands him in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night.  Sam will make sure he's safely out of earshot and swear the damn thing's never completed a journey without going bang, ever, not once in the thirty-odd years he's been riding in it.

The truth of course is somewhere in the middle.  Dean's been working on Baby since he was old enough to hold a flashlight steady and he's brought her back from scrap and spare parts more than once.  But the flat fact of the matter is, the car's a blue-collar broad of a certain age who's lived hard.  She has . . . quirks.

---

bang!

"What--"

cough

"Aw shit--"

"Mmm?"

"Don't-- c'mon Baby, just for me, be sweet to me--"

sick revving noises

"God dammit."

"I think the car just gave you the finger."

"Don't listen to him sweetheart, he's just being a bitch as usual."

bang! car lurches hard enough to throw driver and passanger out of their seats

"Definitely telling you to go fuck yourself."

"Shut up."

crunch of shoulder gravel, engine stops

"Well . . . at least it's not dark this time.  Or raining.  Or sleeting, Or--"

creak of door hinges, pop of hood latch

"Sam, shut up."

"No, you know what?  You're right.  I will shut up."

pop of trunk lock, clink of tools

"Because--"

dramatic clearing of throat

"Oh no you fucking don't."

humming for a note

"Start that shit and--"

voice rises in pitch

"'Like to do a song--'"

"Shave your head in your sleep--"

"'--of great social--'"

"Break every bone in your body--"

"'--and political import.'"

"Tie you to a bed naked and call that Becky chick--"

"'Goes like this.'"

thunking of a hand on a car's side panel

"Oh Lord! won't'cha buy me, a Mercedes-Benz?  Mah friends all drive Porsches, I must make a-mends."

"I will fucking end you Sammy, I swear to God."

"Don't call me that-- I work haaaard all my life time, no help from my friends."

"Sammy-Sammy-Sammykins--"

"So Lord! won't'cha buy me a Mercedes-Benz?  Oh Lord! won't'cha buy me, a color TV?"

"Sammycutiewootiepieface--"

"Dialin' for Dollars is tryin' to find meeee.  I wait for dee-livery, each day until three."

dark muttering about home perms and dye it all bright fucking pink I swear to God

"So Lord! won't'cha buy me a color TV?  Oh Lord! won't'cha buy me, a night on the town?"

soft whine of ultimate suffering

"I'm countin' on you Lord, please don't let me down.  Prooooove that'cha love me, and buy the next round."

"Make mine a double."

"So Lord! won't'cha buy me a night on the town?  Everybody! oh Lord! won't'cha buy me a Mercedes-Benz?  Mah friend all drive Porsches, I must make a-mends.  I worked haaaard all my life time, no help from my friends.  So Lord! won't'cha buy me, a Mer-Cey-Deez-Benz?"

silence

"Are you finished?"

a decidedly fiendish chuckle

"Just getting warmed up.  My car is a . . . "

sounds of two grown men trying to seriously throttle each other by the side of the road

---

"So, you boys wanna run that by me again?"

Sam and Dean glared while the Sheriff of Minnehaha County tried not to laugh.  She made a mental note to show Donna the video later.  The best part had to be the both of them looking up guiltily as Jody barked, "GENTLEMEN," Sam in a headlock and Dean with a bloody nose.

They pointed at each other, "He started it."

---

AN2: Oh, the song Sam started at the end is Psychostick's, "Two Ton Paperweight."