#no one understands sam winchester like I do

[wendichester]

୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ love in stacks,

summary. sam never cared much for valentine’s day—until he met you.

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 550

notes. happy valentine's with sammy 🩷

The library isn’t exactly where you expect to be on Valentine’s Day, but there’s something comforting about the scent of old books, the quiet hum of turning pages, the way time slows down between the shelves.

You’re scanning the spines in the history section when a deep voice interrupts the silence.

"Sorry—didn’t mean to startle you."

You turn, heart skipping a beat as you meet warm hazel eyes. The man in front of you is tall—absurdly tall—with shaggy brown hair and an apologetic smile. He’s holding a stack of books, and he’s… really, really handsome.

"It’s okay," you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Looking for something specific?"

He chuckles, glancing down at the books in his arms. "More like everything specific. Research rabbit holes, you know how it is."

You nod, smiling. "Definitely. I practically live in those."

His smile widens, like he wasn’t expecting you to understand. "Yeah?" He shifts his books to one arm and extends his hand. "I’m Sam."

You shake it, warmth spreading from your fingertips up your arm. "Nice to meet you, Sam."

His gaze lingers for a second before he clears his throat. "I know this is kind of out of nowhere, but… would you want to grab a coffee with me?"

Your brows lift in surprise. "Like… right now?"

He shrugs, lips twitching in a hopeful smile. "Yeah. I mean, unless you have Valentine’s plans—"

You shake your head. "Nope. Just me, my books, and a quiet night in."

His smile turns softer, almost shy. "Then let me change that."

The café is small, tucked into a corner of downtown, warm and inviting against the cold February air. Sam holds the door open for you, and as you step inside, the scent of coffee and cinnamon surrounds you.

He buys your drink without hesitation, brushing off your attempt to pay with a casual, "It’s my Valentine’s treat."

"You’re really leaning into this Valentine’s thing, huh?" you tease as you find a cozy corner to sit.

Sam huffs a laugh, stirring his coffee. "Honestly? I didn’t plan on doing anything today. But then I met you, and…" He shrugs. "Seemed like a good reason to change plans."

You bite your lip to hide your smile. "Smooth."

He grins. "I try."

The conversation flows easily—books, travel, weird facts you both happen to know. You learn that he’s a bit of a history nerd, that he reads ridiculously fast, that he has a brother who teases him about it.

"You’re fun to talk to," he says at one point, like he’s just realizing it.

Your chest warms. "So are you."

Time blurs, and before you know it, you’re walking side by side down the sidewalk, the library long forgotten. The city lights glow around you, and Sam looks at you like he’s thinking something he’s not sure he should say.

Finally, he stops, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Listen, I know this was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, but… I’d really like to see you again."

Your heart does a little flip. "Yeah?"

His smile is soft, hopeful. "Yeah."

You pretend to think about it, then grin. "Okay, Sam. You’ve got yourself a second date."

The way his eyes light up is better than any Valentine’s gift you could have imagined.

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[studiogrimm810]

Intentions

pairings/characters: (pining) sam x you, dean is barely there

summary: after a disappointing call from your father regarding your place with in the family, sam is the only one who can truly understand and offer you the support you need to process this heartbreak

warnings: disowning, strained family dynamic, alone for the holidays, a dad💀

word count: 2,892

A/N: this was a request by the lovely elle (@blossomingorchids), i hope i struck the tune you were looking for. this was SO much fun to write!!!🧎🏻

———————

The Life was never easy. Jumping from town to town, motel to the backseat of your shitty sedan, diners and dive bars- it was completely contradictory of luxurious. But one thing you could always rely on was the gratification of seeing your family.

After what has felt like months of isolation and constant grind, it was now the holiday season. Snow blanketed the icy ground, framing the view from where you sat on a motel porch, reminding you of such. It had been too long since you’ve seen your family and you didn’t have to reach out to know that your mother would give you a piece or two of her mind in regards to your lifestyle.

You missed her birthday, the more notable holidays you celebrate in the autumn months, and now maybe the last monumental holiday of the year- but you’ll make it work.

Finally, after weeks of hoping, days of organizing, and a quick vampire hunt with the Winchesters, you plan to bid the boys an early goodbye in preparations for visiting your family. Your chest swells with uncontainable excitement at the thought of surprising your mother.

Currently, you nursed the rest of your beer handed to you earlier by Dean and watched as lazy waves of fresh, flakey snow settled on the already icy mounds that coated any greenery turned brown due to a frosty death.

You waited for the buzzing adrenaline from your hunt to drain as you claimed this too cold and wildly uncomfortable patio chair as yours. Sam occupied the other chair and Dean simply leaned onto the hood of his precious baby. You all watched the innocent weather- doing what it does and leading you and all other occupying humans to adjust accordingly to its indomitable force.

The weather almost makes you worry about not making it back to your childhood home- almost.

At this point, nothing can stop you from coming home and seeing the warmth of a motherly glow emit from her smile or seeing the threat of tears in your fathers lids. Maybe you’re setting your expectations too high, claiming your own presence in your family’s home to be too monumental of a regard- but the ache in your chest overrides any fear and settles the homesick nostalgia deeper into your very being.

It was going to be a great holiday.

“How we feeling ‘bout another round?” Dean asks, thrusting himself to his feet from the hood of Baby.

“Count me in,” Sam tips his almost empty bottle, keeping his eyes focused out to the beyond of snow.

“I’ll pass, I have to get on the road soon if I want to make it by breakfast,” you sit up, placing your empty bottle with an echoing clink on the pavement of the sidewalk below.

“Are you sure you're up for the drive? It’s still a good four hours,” Sam said with a raised brow, finishing off his drink, and referring to your hometown just a few hours north.

“Hells yeah,” you scoff a quick jerked smile, unable to contain the simmering excitement. You just loved surprises. “I’ll probably have to hit the road soon though. Don’t want the alcohol to make me too sleepy,” you sit up, pulling out your phone to check the time- 2:32 AM.

“Just be safe, yeah?” Sam asks with a simple and polite smile that he uses to cover his deeper worry of your mental state on such little sleep after two beers and an adrenaline filled hunt.

Before you can respond though, your phone rings with a call. Your fathers name flashes on the screen. The lax expression hardens like oobleck at the slap of reality- why is he calling so late? Your previous restless excitement freezes into a still under-layer of stiff bone.

“Excuse me,” you say mindlessly, standing and walking a few paces to the field beside the motel, swiping to answer the call.

“Dad?” You ask, a subconscious fear that they’re in trouble tearing a ripple in your speech.

“Hey, kid,” his tired and strained voice forces through the call- you can almost see the stubble on his chin from the pull in his voice.

“Is everything okay? Why are you up so late?” You ask, the blizzard of nerves tangling up every overthought under your skin putting you on edge.

“We’re fine, kiddo, all is well here- just…” his voice trails, harnessing something with a weight beyond a few loaded words. He sighs, a heavy puff. “We’ve been talking and-,” your dad takes another simple pause, and you imagine him running a hand down his face with a slight eye roll like he usually does in times of exhausted stress. “We just think that maybe it’s better off that you’re not around for the holidays.”

As if Medusa tiptoed out from the woodwork, your body settled like stone. A heavy, weighted dread that shredded any emotion above contentment settled deep in your stomach and you felt six years old again.

“What do you mean?” The words ghost past your lips without registering their syllables.

“Look, honey. You know we love you. I just think that it’s better off that you’re not around for the holidays,” he sighs, “your mother worries so much for you but- but the longer you’re gone, the easier it is for her to relax. I know that you probably couldn’t even make time for us anyways,” the disappointment cuts deep.

“Dad-.”

“No, I get you're ‘saving the world’ or whatever, but you still have a responsibility with us. Your siblings feel your absence, your mother grieves for a child she hasn’t lost- all because of your need to be self-sacrificial. Your duty isn’t to the strangers you help, it’s to the family you neglect,” his words pour out with a confident slur and you deduce he’s been drinking. “Just do us a favor and don’t show up. Don’t remind us how close we are to losing you or how your absence has left us disappointed in the adult you’ve become. It’s better that you just stick with the life you chose instead of teetering back and forth between suicide and comfort.”

You’re speechless. The words that you’ve queued for retaliation dissolve under his spewing confidence. He is angry and hurt and drunk. You can picture him now- freshly abandoned recliner with a double six-pack worth of Bud’s scattered about the side table. He’s pacing the homey living room that’s frosted with warm holiday decor, probably the only one awake in the house. The house that’s full of your family. Your family.

Your entire family is in that home and you’re here.

Your entire family?

A family.

Not yours, not anymore.

“If you’ve ever cared for us, don’t bother. We’ve anticipated your reckless death for so long it may as well be fate. I love you, kid, but just forget about us like we have you.”

The line is dead before the words fully settle into your bones like the enochian sigil Cas implemented years ago- maybe even replacing it with the force at which it was etched.

Sure, your father has always been emotionally distant and your relationship with him strained, but you never imagined him speaking to you like that. The brutal honesty of his poisoned words have done their damage though, securing all of your doubts and insecurities of your place in your family.

It was a tough decision- you promise it was. You tried college, even gave a normal life the previously proclaimed try, but it didn’t fit. It felt like you had stuck yourself into a fizzy bottle of cola that threatened to spit you out at any moment. It was too strict, too encompassing, and too expectant. However, since you’ve been on your own and riding the Eisenhower roads from troubled town to troubled town, you’ve found your purpose. You’re skilled, stealthy, witty- made for The Life. And it was hard to abandon the path paved for you by your family’s privilege, but it was necessary for you to feel comfortable in your own skin.

Your arm loses its stability and your wrist slacks back to your side, barely clutching your phone in your hand.

The field beyond is wavy with white powder and the quiet that is absorbed by it solidifies your presence. You turn back to see Sam accept a fresh beer from his brother. Dean settles back into his spot on the sleek black hood of his personified ego, uttering unintelligible words with an effortless smirk.

You pocket your phone and cast one more envious glance along the steady horizon.

Walking back to the brothers, your embedded guilt worsens as you feel the shift of energy amongst the trio.

“Everything okay?” Sam asks first because of course he does.

“Slight change of plans,” you sniffle, refusing to feel embarrassed since you can blame the simple act on the freezing temperatures around you. “I can take you up on that other round,” you attempt a casual smirk to Dean as you settle back into your chair. The brothers share a glance.

“Who was that?” Sam asked with a slight tick of his head toward your phone, his gaze latching onto the direction of the pocketed item.

“My dad,” you sink into the previously comfortable position that now feels like a lazy river that’s swirling you down into a nothingness pit of, well, nothing.

“Heard,” Dean nods, kicking himself off the hood and heading back inside to retrieve an ice cold beer. In hindsight, he could’ve left the packs outside on the icy pavement and saved himself a trip or two.

“What did he say?” Sam sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees and slacking the fizzing bottle in his bruised hand- marked from previously saving your ass from the clutches of a blood-drunk vamp.

“Basically told me I’m not-,” your words start with such baffled confidence but quickly melt into heartbroken speechlessness. You sniffle, unable to blame it on the cold this time due to the stray tear that rolls down your cheek.

You’ve confided in Sam more than once about your rocky relationship with your family but it was still difficult to formulate the situation for another to envision.

“Said it’s better I don’t come home. That I’ve only disappointed and worried them with my ‘choices’. I think he disowned me,” the last five words melt out in a guttural despair. The reality hits, the meaning of your fathers words and the implications of them already saving themselves a spot in the newest dictionary. It’s settled. You’re alone.

“He said that?” Sam bucks back in a shocked confusion, his brows furrowed in misunderstanding.

“He sounded so done with me. Like he would rather accept losing me than my ‘flaky’ appearances. Like they’d all be better off,” the words waver your volume, causing an embarrassing sob to rip from your lips.

Soft shuffling followed by a nearly inaudible click of a door latching, lead to Sam’s warm hand on your back. His fingertips curl slightly, causing his nails to trail a short and sweet drag over your clothed skin.

“I’m so sorry,” his words are genuine. They’re loaded and meaningful. You can almost hear your own heartache in his voice but the feel of his palm steadying you settles the second threat of a sob.

“Family is hard,” he starts, his thumb caressing over the wrinkled folds of your jacket that ripple under his influence. “You’ll never be able to please everyone, and you’ll never be able to rise to their unreasonable expectations. I know you,” he sets his bottle on the pavement and uses his now free hand to push back some of your fallen hair. “You’re kind, caring, strong, empathetic. You try so hard for the approval of others and I hate that you don’t receive the respect you deserve for the effort you contribute.”

He’s quick and organized, almost like he’s practiced this before. For you or himself? You don’t know, but crafted for a misunderstood child for sure.

“Unconditional love is the one thing each and every one of us is entitled to from birth but is unfortunately the one thing that’s rarely supplied to us. I’m so fucking sorry that the people responsable for giving you that would cast you aside like this.”

His free hand rests on your knee, almost like he’s trying to funnel the depth of his words upon your skin.

“You’re doing the right thing, yaknow,” he says and you know he’s considering the insecurities you’ve once disclosed with him. “This life is hard and complicated and isn’t made for just anyone. You’re talented and smart and-,” he halted. When you look up, his lips are pressed thin and he’s obviously holding back.

“I’m just sorry,” he shakes his head, deciding to finish his projected rant, his grip on your form stiff but assuring.

The night is still- silent. The tiny crystals falling from the clouds above settled on the frozen blankets with soft clinks and trickles. Icy rain, almost. The sound is melodic.

“I don’t understand how he can default to this- accepting my fate as if I’m walking a damn plank,” you sniffle, wiping away a few more tears that stain your skin with almost freezing force due to the weather.

“He’s hurting,” Sam defaults, “he’s scared and he doesn’t understand. But that’s still no excuse.”

A comfortable but emotionally aching silence settles between you two. Dean’s taking too long with your beer but you remember the click from earlier was the motel door closing, offering you and his younger brother some space.

“Me and Dean didn’t have much planned for our Christmas, we never do,” he scoffs a soft chuckle, “but we can make an effort for you. I know that Dean secretly loves building gingerbread houses.” Sam nudges you softly, hoping to lighten the tension embedded in your shoulders.

You appreciate his effort, you really do, but your fathers words are still fresh. His voice still echoes in your skull, reminding you of all the ways you’ve disappointed them in your life.

Sam can see the conflict in your tense features. You’ve now buried your face in your palm but by the scrunched skin that lines your hidden eyes, he can tell the toll this incident is taking on you. He really hopes his words of encouragement weren’t too preachy but were instead a helpful chant you needed to hear. He definitely knows how it might have helped him when he was hurting badly.

He knows the feeling all too well. He’s disappointed John, Dean, Bobby. Just about everyone he’s looked up to in his life has casted back down a look of disgusted contentment that framed him like a spotlight- showing how his once innocent infantile being was now an abdominal hallmark of the literal apocalypse.

All his life, his skin has felt wrong, his hands moved in a way he didn’t want, even his body ached for a taunting drug that led him to his most regrettable moment, but he always intended good. He always sought felicity for those around him. And he never intended the pain his actions inflicted on those he only wanted to protect.

And selfishly, worst of all, he was constantly misunderstood. Something he wouldn’t wish upon his worst enemy. Hell, even Lucifer had his reasons.

He knew his speech was a lot of ‘self-help’ words you would almost want to cringe at, but he desperately wanted- no, needed. Fucking needed, you to know that despite all of whatever your father said to you, that Sam knew your intentions were selfless and thoughtful. That you aren’t just some dumb kid who took up this life on a whim.

“You’re doing the right thing.” And that. That is what settled with you the most. It’s what you believed, but until now, you trusted no one to remind you.

“Then why does it feel so wrong?” You peak out from the comfort of your own palm again.

“Because it hurts,” he says with a sympathetic cringe. “Because life isn’t fair and acceptance is a curse.”

The crystals continue to fall all around you two. Sam’s firm hold on your knee and repetitive caress on your back keep you steady.

“But I can promise you one thing,” he says with emphasis that implies he’ll continue once you look at him fully. “You’ll never lose us,” Sam means him and Dean out of obligation, but he wishes to specify himself. He wishes to make himself stand out a bit higher to remind you that you aren’t just another hunter friend with relatable baggage but yet a good friend which he shared a profound bond with.

You’re different. He’s different. But to each other, you’re the same.

To each other, you’re worthy of love without bounds, you’re deserving of a microphone to defend yourself with, you’re obligated a benefit of the doubt.

For each other, you’re always there to listen, examine, and determine a deeper understanding of intent and not initial thought.

With each other, you’re whole. You’re beyond a mutual understanding. You’re quite simply understood. And even when you aren’t, there is still the unspoken promise of patience to be understood.

Sam Winchester offers more than you feel you’ll ever deserve. But for him, he fears he could never supply you just enough.

———————

thank you so much for reading!! <3

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

>tags: @blossomingorchids

[e-dubbc11]

A Pizza His Heart

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F! Reader

Warnings: Implied smexy time but PG-13 for the most part, smooches, fluffy bunnies and unicorns. Maybe a swear word or two.

Word Count: 2.1K-ish

Summary: You never really understood the hype around Valentine’s Day and maybe you were a bit cynical because you’ve never had a valentine but maybe it will be different this year. ♥️

A/N: I know, I know…the title is wicked cheesy(see what I did there? 🤣) Ok, I’m done with the Dad jokes. I just thought this would be a fun little idea, so happy Valentine’s Day to all my lovely friends out there! I kiss you all on the forehead💋💋♥️♥️ I took elements from one of my favorite episodes, Season 9, episode 12 The Purge(“A fish taco?”).

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

It was coming up on Friday.

The dreaded king of greeting card holidays, in your eyes, was Valentine’s Day and you never could really understand what all the fuss was about. One day a year where you dote on the person you love? What a crock of shit.

Mostly, you were cynical because you had never really had someone to call your Valentine…until now.

But Dean didn’t strike you as the romantic Valentine’s Day type. That wasn’t him. He barely knew what to do in a relationship, let alone plan a romantic night out for a cheeseball holiday like Valentine’s Day. But it was alright and you loved him because he was so non-traditional.

Last year for your birthday, he bought you four new tires for your car and took it to be washed and detailed. He really didn’t know any better despite Sam trying to tell him otherwise but you didn’t have high expectations either. Previous boyfriends couldn’t even remember your birthday, let alone get you something that you needed.

You couldn’t fault Dean for trying when others never bothered.

He would bring you your favorite ice cream or candy bar if he saw them while he was out. He’d come home with those really bad tabloid magazines or newspapers because he knew you loved them (he did too) and you would read through them out loud to each other and laugh together at how ridiculous the stories were.

It wasn’t a normal relationship but it was as normal as it gets for Dean Winchester. He loved you more than anything and that was enough for you.

**********

Monday

Watching him pack his bag for a hunt always made your heart hurt a little. It was mostly because you just wanted him to come home safe but you hated to watch him leave.

“Where ya goin’ this time, baby?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Dean was packing his bag like he would be gone for at least a few days.

The sun had already gone down so warm amber glow from the nightstand lamp was the only light in the bedroom. The sleeves to his flannel shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his strong forearms.

Without even trying, he was incredibly sexy.

Unconsciously, you were biting down on your lower lip as you watched him toss clothes into his bag and place his leather toiletry bag on top.

Moving away from the doorway, you walked over to sit down on the bed while he finished. Dean placed his bag on the floor and looked down at you as your gaze met his and he gave you a smile that would melt your insides. His thumb brushed the soft skin of your cheek as you closed your eyes and melted into his touch.

“Stillwater, Minnesota, sweetheart.” He replied in his deep gravelly voice as he sat down next to you.

As you inched closer to him, you gently placed a hand on his chest, and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

“And what’s in Stillwater, Minnesota, handsome?” You asked, in barely more than a whisper.

“Don’t know yet. Sam said a guy weighing over 300 pounds was found dead in his car but I guess when they found him, it looked like he weighed no more than 100 pounds. Sounded like our thing so we’re gonna go check it out.” Said Dean.

There was a breath of room between your bodies and as he brushed his fingers along your collarbone, it sent wild tremors along your nerves from the top of your head, down to your toes.

You kissed him hard, he growled against your mouth as he parted your lips and his tongue stroked against yours.

“You make me not wanna leave when you kiss me like that. Well, I-I mean I don’t r-really wanna leave anyway. You know what I’m tryin’ to say.” He stammered.

Chuckling, you replied, “I know you don’t, Dean. I just wanted you to remember what you’re missing when you go away.”

“Makes me excited to come home, baby.” He said with a sly smile.

You kissed him again.

“As it should.” You said with a wink. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Talk to you soon, sweetheart.”

And with a squeak of a car door and a loud growl of the engine, he was gone.

You may end up spending Valentine’s Day alone afterall.

**********

Wednesday

Dean called just like he always did.

“So you’re at a wellness spa?” You asked in a confused tone.

Dean was trying to be as quiet as possible because he was still at the spa.

“Yeah, Canyon Valley Wellness Spa. Sam got a job here as a yoga instructor and the only thing I could get was in the kitchen.” Dean whispered.

“So you’re preparing food.” You said.

Dean quipped, “This is not food, baby.”

You laughed. “Ok, well do you know what you’re dealing with yet?”

“Sam thinks it’s something called a Pishtaco.” Said Dean.

You narrowed your eyes and replied, “A fish taco?”

“That’s what I thought he said! But no, a Pishtaco is native to Peru and they’re fat suckers.” He whispered. “So a place like this is a perfect cover for them.”

“Ew.” You replied.

“So that’s why people are thinner when they leave here and why they have marks on their back. Oh shit, someone’s coming. Gotta go. I love you and I’ll talk to you soon.” Dean said, hurriedly.

He hung up before you could tell him you loved him too but it sounded like they were close to solving the case and hopefully he would be home soon.

**********

Thursday Evening

You didn’t hear from Dean at all today. He tried to call every day that he was away but it didn’t always happen. A quick text was all you would get some days but you didn’t even get that today.

Distracting yourself from the fact that he didn’t call or text was difficult but you managed alright. You went out for “Galentine’sDay” with some of your friends from work. They invited you out for dinner and drinks which was just what you needed. It was the perfect distraction and it was a great night but in the end, you still had to come home to an empty house.

You had hoped to pull up to the house to see Baby parked in the driveway and Dean waiting patiently for you on the couch. But the house was dark and the driveway was empty so you knew he wasn’t home yet.

With the pillow gently cradling your head, you stared up at the ceiling in the gathering darkness and listened to the ceaseless winds outside your windows. It sounded like they were trying their hardest to unearth the trees as you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Your last thoughts before falling asleep were of Dean. The way he looked at you with his sage green eyes like you were the only woman in the world, joking with him about wanting to connect the splash of freckles across his nose, or wondering if he was thinking about you right now the way you were thinking about him.

Wherever he was, you just hoped he was alright.

**********

♥️Valentine’s Day♥️

Dean called that morning, said he was on his way home, and that he couldn’t wait to see you. But he made no mention of Valentine’s Day which wasn’t surprising but it didn’t mean you couldn’t do something nice for him since he had been gone all week.

He didn’t know if he would be home in time for dinner or not so he told you not to cook but he didn’t say anything about dessert.

You were lucky enough to scoop up the last heart shaped pie dish at the store so along with that, you bought everything you needed to bake him a heart shaped cherry pie.

As it sat cooling on the counter, you thought about just having pie for dinner when Dean came home. Knowing he probably already ate on his way home and not wanting to eat alone on Valentine’s Day, you decided to eat a little snack and open a bottle of wine because why not, right?

So you enjoyed your glass of wine, cracked open your book and patiently waited to hear the rumble of Baby’s engine and signature door squeak followed by Dean’s handsome face as he walked through the front door.

He was so happy when he walked through the door and you were very happy to see him, unharmed. A lot of the time he’d walk back through your door with cuts on his face, bruises, and sometimes even gunshot or stab wounds.

“There she is. Hey sweetheart, miss me?” Dean asked with a wide smile.

He was carrying a pizza box along with his travel bag.

“Of course I missed you! Hey baby!” You replied. “Is that an empty pizza box orrrrrr?”

Dean knew you were trying to be funny but he still shot you a “look.”

“Very funny, y/n. No it’s not empty, I thought we could have dinner together.” He said, setting it down on the table. “Do I smell pie?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You replied with a chuckle.

After retrieving a couple of plates from the cupboard and getting Dean a beer from the fridge, he carefully watched your face as you opened the pizza box, revealing a heart shaped pepperoni pizza inside.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” Said Dean, softly.

“Oh Dean…you brought me a heart shaped pizza? That’s so thoughtful, baby!” You replied, getting ready to snake your arms around his neck before he stopped you.

“Crap, I have something else for you. I left it in the car, hold that thought though.” He said with a wink.

When he came back inside, he was holding a single red rose with baby’s breath, wrapped in plastic. It melted your heart.

Dean handed you the rose and nervously said, “All the flower shops were closed by the time I found one on the way home, I found this at the gas station. I know it’s not much but I hope it’s ok.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, flashed a wide smile at him before pressing your lips to his. Dean kissed you back, hard and pulled you in closer to him in a crushing grip. His spicy familiar smell helped you relax into his embrace as his tongue tangled with yours.

Warmth radiated through his shirt as his body pressed firmly against yours. Dean walked you backwards until he had caged you in against the kitchen counter. A low growl escaped his lips and you could feel his hardening length through his jeans.

“It’s perfect baby, thank you. What’s not to love about a heart shaped pizza and flowers?” You asked, rhetorically.

“It’s just one flower, sweetheart. I had every intention of getting you an actual bouquet of flowers but—“ He said, before you gently pressed your fingers against his lips.

“Shh, shh, Dean. When I tell you that this is perfect, please believe me. It really is.” You said.

He finally took his gaze away from you long enough to see the cherry pie sitting on the counter next to where you were standing.

“You did make a pie.” He said, looking back at you with raised eyebrows. “And it’s heart shaped.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” You said, as your lips curled into a warm smile.

Dean tilted your chin up so he could kiss up and down your neck, your throat, and the deep V-neck shirt you were wearing allowed him to gently kiss you in between your breasts as a strangled moan broke free from your mouth.

“Thank you for my pie, sweetheart. Now, can I show you how much I’ve missed you?” He asked in a low whisper.

Those words in his deep gravelly voice sent a shiver down your spine. The desire behind his hypnotizing green eyes matched your need for him as you clenched your thighs together in anticipation.

“Couldn’t hurt to work up an appetite. I love you, Dean.” You said softly with a smile.

Dean lifted you off your feet and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you off to the bedroom.

“I love you too.”

Your first Valentine’s Day with Dean would be a hard one to beat but you didn’t doubt he would do his best to try even harder next year.

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @stoneyggirl2 @vaguekayla

Others that might enjoy: @k-marzolf @jvanilly @fluffyprettykitty @deans-spinster-witch @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @savorxe

If you would like to be added to(or removed from) my tag list(s) for this smexy Winchester, just let me know!

[angel-ghoul444]

⛥ the boy with the demon blood ౨♱ৎ

[thenameisgul]

it’s actually no surprise that how many angels who actually care for Cas seem to hate Dean and Sam.

because from their pov sam and dean are the bad influence that got their indomitable leader of the garrison Castiel to stray from his path and become this sidekick to two humans

everything Cas gets out of this transaction, this family of his, love, friendship, companionship, feelings, hopes and dreams are things that are alien to the angels

samamdriel said it best, ‘too much heart was always Cas’ problem’ but he said it like it was a bad thing

but for Cas it’s the reason for his existence since he found his family and that’s why he’s the perfect blend of humanity and angelic existence. he’s the middle ground that never was before ����

[daddario]

When people are like “I hope my sons have a relationship like Sam and Dean!” I’m just like do you??? Do you really??? Why?!

Even if you don’t see the sexual undertones there, do you actually want your children to have THAT kind of relationship? Let’s take a moment to examine Sam and Dean, shall we?

Sam and Dean are grown men who, with the exception of Jess, have never had any long term deep emotional or romantic relationships. Even from a platonic standpoint, they essentially do not have real friends besides one another. They have bizarre boundaries and Dean literally wouldn’t have sex without getting a thumbs up from Sam and knowing he was watching IN CANON well into their 20s. (There were blackout curtains available for privacy, but Dean left them open so Sam could see their shadows for the entire thing. That’s fucking weird!!!)

Dean literally cannot cope with Sam dying to the extent that he sells his soul, gets tortured in hell, and never truly recovers from the trauma. Sam is so fucked up over Dean dying that he literally tries to open the gates of hell and march in there without a fucking plan just to get him out, or to join him. Sam and Dean do horrific things to themselves and others when their brother is in danger. Sam and Dean are toxic and a danger to everyone around them. They are codependent, entangled, boundary-less monsters who will let the world burn for one another. They are controlling abusive nightmares. They are terrifying and terrible and perfect exactly as they are and are not to be touched, but they are not something to aspire to.

They are men in their 30s-40s who can’t wash a dish without one another.

Are you really sure that that’s the type of relationship you want your children to have? REALLY?

[cthulhum]

show this picture to a supernatural fan.

[kerryweaverlesbian]

They really fumbled the season 14 emotional core specifically by not having Mary be present and recognisably Mary for MOST of the season. It feels like we see more of her after her death than before it, and when we do see her before it she's a completely different character who's their uncomplicatedly loving mom.

Take season 10 Charlie, who was present and dynamic and alive and forming new relationships with other major characters and was generally a big part of the plot for season 10. Take season 12 Mary even! So cool they fridged her thrice. The high level of emotion from Dean and Sam after her (apparent) s12 finale death was meaningful to the audience because Mary IS season 12. Take season 7 Bobby! He is active and present and having an emotional arc and has been consistently a part of the fabric of the show.

And compare these to season 14 where she is living in a cabin with an unimportant side character, she's being sweet and motherly full stop, she's in The Pearl where her husband comes back from the dead and she has NO complicated scenes or emotions to process with Dean or Sam and gets maybe 3 lines in the whole 'pisode. The show doesn't give a fuck about her. And this is after season 13 where she's mostly in another world doing fuck all.

For a death to have weight in fiction you need to remind the audience consistently that THIS CHARACTER IS IMPORTANT by having them form new relationships, do things for the plot and generally be present onscreen. As it stands, even though intellectually I know that if MY mom got killed and her murderer came to see me going 🥺 it was her fault really 🥺 will you comfort me 🥺 and I knew they were going to kill more people, I would probably be easily persuaded to put them in eternal prison or shoot them in the head - the emotional truth of it on the show just doesn't carry through.

It feels like an overreaction for Dean to be so angry about this for so long because the show didn't care about Mary enough to have her around. What is he losing by not having her around? In season 14, they don't show us. They did in s12 - the potential to be seen, and the complex joy of getting to know his actual mother rather than the idea of her. And by not showing us, it makes it not exist, because its a tv show and anything that isn't being depicted implicitly isn't important to the story. If you removed all of Mary's scenes from s14 before her death, what would change? Pretty much nothing.

Now to be clear, I don't think they should have fridged Mary at all. But they could have at least done it properly. The sexism that made the writers less bothered about characterising Mary thoughtfully in s14 is a blight on the show.

[soullessjack]

throwing out just One more hot dean and jack take while it’s on my brain but I honestly think dean gives jack a little more autonomy than sam and cas do . Maybe.

[theduckseeksduck]

Listing things about s6 of supernatural ( thus far ) that are too different and make me want to die ( in no particular order)

1. Sam

2. DEAN NOT HAVING HIS NECKLACE COME THE FUCK ON

3. Sam’s car ( rip )

4. A YEAR? A YEAR?

5. Dean being rusty

6. A YEAR? A FUCKING YEAR?

7. No ghost ☹️

8. Not really on theme but seeing Sam shirtless for like 2 minutes make me uncomfortable. Men being sexy always oog me (im gay)

9.A YEAR.

10. Their extended family

11. SAM. Who is this man???????

12. A YEAR???? A FUCKING YEAR?

13. THE NECKLACE ARJGH

14. Sam and Dean feel off because Sam feels off

15. A YEAR?

Uhhh but yeah besides that its seeming to be good. Kinda burnt out on the angels and demons, i crave ghost!!! Also the scooby doo ep. I need the scooby doo ep

[manwiththemagic]

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[quietwingsinthesky]

Leaving the safety of Sam tumblr and seeing the worst takes possible is sooooooo… just…

(Dean Stan on TikTok called the Sam and dean fight about Amy in 7.06 dean “finally standing up for himself”)

That’s so funny.

Bro, he killed a lady. And then lied about it.

Like, there’s a lot of times where I’ll go, fine, Dean’s being morally ambiguous and he thinks he’s making the right call, sure, sure. This was not one of those times.

(Secret good spn in my head where this and the Benny situation combine in Sam’s mind in such a way that once Jack comes around, that why he becomes so invested in Dean seeing Jack as family. Because he knows that if he doesn’t? If all he can offer is that he would spare Jack, that he thinks Jack isn’t a monster? Dean has disregarded that before. But if Dean can come to that conclusion on his own, strip the title of monster away because he’s become personally invested, that might protect Jack.)

[fandomfaeofveryfewf4cks]

Runs in the family

These two especially:

" He asked for no pickles 😡 "

[lostalioth]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭

→ premise: you in those damn jeans, those stupid jeans that fit you just right. your hips, your waist, your thighs. and god your ass in those jeans nearly had sam drooling. it was shameful he knew it but he couldn’t help it, not when your ass looked so prefect.

→ pairing: sam winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, anal, caught masturbating, switch!sam? [he’s dominating but also jsut whiny and desperate?], nicknames [angel, baby], no lube or prep really for the anal part [i lowkey didn’t wanna write it lmao], not proofread

→ a/n: kinktober 17

It was pathetic, he was pathetic he knew that and yet he just couldn't care at the moment nor help himself. You looked so good he swore it was driving him clinically insane. So good that it was making his genius brain malfunction, and his downstairs ‘brain’ run on overdrive. 

He couldn't focus, could barely understand a word the witnesses were saying, it was all going in one ear and out the other. His eyes were just glued on you, on your body, on those stupid perfectly fitting jeans you wore. He felt like a hormonal teenager again, getting all worked up over a dumb pair of tight jeans on a woman. It didn't help that Sam has already been nursing a small crush on you that he’s had sense him and his brother met you. 

He had to bail on you and dean in the middle of the interviews, giving the both of you some excuse about not feeling the best and that maybe he needed some extra rest. Though in truth his pants were just getting tighter by the minute and his head getting foggier. He somehow managed to walk himself back to the motel, the short walk doing not a damn thing to clear his head. You in those fucking jeans, those jeans that hug your thighs and your wasit just right, those stupidly tight jeans that made your ass look so fucking bitable it was making him lose his mind. 

Even though muffled by his t-shirt pulled up and tucked between his teeth all that filled the quiet dingy motel room were Sams whines they were so loud. He was a mess the second he unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants and boxers down his thighs. His large hand furiously stroking up and down his aching cock, pulling strangled whimpers and cries from his lips. His precum leaking out from his tip acting as lube for his hand to glide along his shaft faster, squeezing it hard as he goes. 

He was already so close, it only added to his feeling of being pathetic, he really was a horny teenager now, he couldn't even last that long with his fist around his cock and his head filled with thoughts of you. You on top of him riding him as he whines, you under him your limbs an entangled mess as you pant and moan into his mouth. Him with his head buried between your thighs, you on your knees for him with your mouth stuffed full of his cock, any and all different kinds of images of you all over him. “Need you s’bad, s‘fuckin’ bad holy shit….” He hissed through his teeth in a hushed tone as his head fell back in pleasure, cries of your name and whines about how good you looked fall from his mouth like a waterfall the closer he gets to the edge.

“Hey Sam? Honey? you doing okay?” Your voice shattered the daydream going on in his head that was just about to make him cum. In shock and embarrassment his hand stills, inadvertently edging himself. The nickname only makes his cock twitch more as a short whine comes out of his mouth in response. He was caught and it should be embarrassing, humiliating even, you caught him jerking off in the middle of the day. He should be feeling anything else but what he was right now, It shouldn’t excite him that you caught him. But he was too far gone into a desperate type of head space to care at the moment. 

“Oh shit!, i'm sorry i didn't mean to barge in i thought you’d be napping” you babble out, covering your face as heat spreads through your body as you turn around and move like you're about to leave. As you turn sam gets an even better almost 360º view of your body, how the jeans cling to your thighs, the waistband snug around your waist, the denim looks practically painted on your ass, they were so tight.

“Need it s’bad, please i need you s’bad yoou dont have to leave” he whines out, you had already caught him so any composure or decorum he had has been thrown out the window alongside reason. He could be completely ruining your friendship at this moment, you could be disgusted with him and reject him but he was taking that risk cause he was desperate. 

Your body as if moving on its own accord, revealing your own hidden desires turns back around to face Sam, slowly taking your hands away from your face. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes scan over his body, his shirt tugged up and stuffed in his mouth exposing his chest, a small trail of hair leading down to where his hand is still wrapped tightly around his cock, a pleading look in his glazed over eyes. Slowly you make your way over to him spread out on the bed, your steps careful as if you were gonna spook him by moving too fast. “What- Uh- what do you need honey?” You question, still a bit confused and extremely nervous. You’d do anything to help Sam, and getting to see him like this all pathetic and desperate was a bonus that was making slick settle in your core and your thighs clench together. 

“I need you, want you s’bad” he whines out dropping his shirt from his mouth as he grabs ahold of your hand when you get close enough. Placing your hand on his stiff throbbing cock with his own, you let out a small gasp at the feeling of his warm cock under your touch. “This is what you do to me, you and ya’ fucking stupid tight jeans” he hissed out, letting go of your hand and taking note of the fact you dont move it off his cock he slaps your ass hard with his big hand resting and gropping at it after it comes down. 

“These damn jeans that make your ass look so good angel, so good that I couldn't focus, baby. Wanna fuck you s’bad, wanna fuck this ass” he was rambling now looking up at you with his signature puppy eyed look that made you melt. He was so hard it was getting painful, especially since he stopped himself right when he was gonna cum.

He's already thrown caution to the wind by this point, there was no going back.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You gave in. 

Willing to do whatever it took to make Sam feel better as well as the fact that all his begging had made you about just as desperate for him. He had you on his lap now, your back pressed against his bare chest. He was quick to strip you of all your clothes, eyes glued to the way he had to practically peel your jeans off your body. Your thighs were spread and laid over his legs that he had bent up, his feet planted flat on the bed. 

Your head was spinning from the feeling of his rough hands exploring every inch of your body. Palming at your tits and his thumb flicking your nipples, squeezing your waist when you squirm in his grasp and grind your ass against him. His lips were mouthing and kissing along your neck, tongue poking out to lick up the side and even behind your ear, sucking patches of small hickies onto the unmarked skin. Your body relaxed more and more in his arms as Sam said; “Need you real relaxed for this angel okay? As bad as i want this i don't wanna hurt ya’” you were certainly relaxed once his thumb started rubbing circles over your bundle of nerves, sighing in a mixture of pleasure and relief. You whine softly as your pussy aches, begging for release already as your folds are dripping in slick, a trail of it sliding down your cunt to your ass even. 

Lifting his hips his tip nudges at the tight ring of muscle of your ass, his precum that hasn't stopped leaking as well as his spit that coated his cock acted as your only form of lube as he bullies his thick cock inside. With a broken gasp in both pain and pleasure at the new sensation you dig your nails into the flesh of his forearm that was wrapped around your stomach holding you against him. “Sam~ Honey- Fuck!” You blabber out in a string of jumbled together moans, losing track of where you were gonna go with your sentence once his cock pushes all the way inside, your hole sucking his cock inside. 

“Atta’ girl, s’good f’me angel. God your ass is so fuckin’ tight” he cries out, he was already still on edge from just his fist but this feeling was gonna send him flying over it faster than he wanted. The pleasure of his cock filing your ass as well as his thumb which hasn't stopped playing with your clit has your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“Baby, m’not gonna last long, it's too much” you moan out as his hips buck up and thrust into you, settling at a fast and relentless pace not giving you any more time to get adjusted. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay, j’ cum, just cum for me angel” he nods his head frantically, moans and desperate cries fill the room and you don't know what sounds are coming from who as you clench down on him. 

Your body tensing up and your eyes screwing shut as your climax washes over you, a loud wanton moan falling out of your mouth. Worry about the other residents hearing anything long since past, Sam even felt a small ego boost knowing they were hearing you scream out his name. His hips not stopping their hard thrusting, Sam too lost in pleasure with his head buried in your neck as his cock pounds your ass making you see stars as you cum. 

“Feel so good angel, holy shit squeezin’ me even tighter as you cum shit~” he groans out, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine as his breath fans across your ear. Your cum leaks out of your pussy, sliding down to Sams cock giving it even more slick for him to fuck up into you harder and faster, chasing his own orgasm. 

“Gonna cum angel, but dont think im done with ya’ when i do, need to fuck that pretty pussy too. Been dreamin’ about that sense we met, need to make you all mine” he cries out as he turns your face towards his and crashes his lips against yours, kissing you like a man starved. His moans are muffled into the kiss as well as more whines of your name as he cums hard.

→ a/n: AHHHH last day of kinktober is tomorrow!! Im hoping i get to post the last day on halloween but i might not so if i dont expect it nov

[samsmissingshoee]

ANGEL — SAM WINCHESTER.

SUMMARY — sam starts to grow fond of an angel. they have grown more comfortable around each other, and tensions run high when dean leaves for a bar.

WARNINGS — no plot all porn... 18+, softdom!sam, unprotected sex, p in v, oral, f!receiving, unexperienced!reader, angel!reader, LOTS of praise, biting, creampie, mentions of religion, sam's a sweetheart. he's also a freak.

WC — 4.3k. i got carried away.

A/N — i feel like i'm going to hell just from the warnings alone. i erm. i don't even know. shout out the two people who asked to get tagged in this 🙏 first ever smut fic, if you hate i'll probably delete my account. i am not editing 4.3k words btw. i'm lazy.

angels weren't supposed to enjoy the feeling of a human. that much was well known.

and when you came from heaven to assist castiel in whatever the hell it was that he was doing, that was repeated to you over and over again. these 'humans', they weren't important. your only job was to make sure sam winchester didn't get hurt. that was all this was supposed to be. a casual round of protecting the winchesters.

you didn't understand human norms, and at first, sam didn't like you. you didn't take personally, of course, because, well, sam hated any angel at first. castiel quickly explained to you about the brother's and how you'd be spending more time with them while he awaited directions. honestly, you couldn't care less about either of the brothers, too. they were hunters, and you were an angel. you weren't supposed to mix anyway.

sam winchester was more interesting than his older and shorter brother, though. sam was thoughtful and a lot more curious about you than he let on at first. as you spent more time 'watching' over him, you realized he enjoyed asking you questions about heaven, and the angels, and about castiel. and you tried to answer them to the best of your ability.

sam was more open to learning about you than dean, and he was more considerate when it came to teaching you knew things. slowly, he started defending you against dean's antics, and he learned about how curious you were, too.

he spent many late nights awake with you, struggling with his insomnia. you made it much more enjoyable. on the off chance that he did get some sleep, he'd wake up to you in the bunker, lounging and reading one of his books. as soon as you saw him awake, you'd pounce on him, eager to talk all about it.

sam found you endearing in the same way you found him intriguing. you both taught each other different things. he taught you about different emotions and how to communicate them to him. he showed you his favorite movies. he told you about his time in standford and about how he was studying law. you taught him about the bible, about praying and how you'd always come if he prayed for you. you taught him about heaven and hell, and angels and everything in between.

eventually, you two become friends, as much as younger sam would have hated to admit that. he showed you what friendship was and what it was like to worry about someone more than yourself. he explained to you what love was and about heartbreak. sam watched as you turned from this unemotional, blunt angel into a person, crafted by the things you loved.

you two kissed about six months after hunting with him. you were unexerienced, and painfully so, and your first kiss was nothing but giggles and awkward stares. the second, third, and fourth ones weren't any better. sam was ridiculously dotting and patient, and even though you were an angel and didn't understand what a relationship was, you still tried for him, and he loved you for it.

after a week of sneaky kisses and rushing into each other's rooms once dean fell asleep, you seemed to have gotten the hang of it. you and sam hadn't done anything remotely sexual other than a few hands-under-the-bra's and one /bad/ attempt at a handjob. sam was enthralled in watching you become more confident and learning how to touch him the way that he liked and how to kiss him properly. so he didn't mind taking things slow.

you two agreed to not have sex yet, partially because to you, it was a sin, and partially because you didn't know what you were doing. sam had no issue waiting. that was, until tonight.

you don't even remember how this happened, honestly — the lingering touches became more frequent, more needy, and at some point, sam had slipped you out of your shirt and bra. you'd barely even made it to his room /thank god for dean being out at a bar tonight/, before he was kissing you, his lips hiding something more intense tonight.

you wouldn't have protested anyways, but as soon as your shirt was gone, sam was all over you.

"i know it feels dirty, honey. but it's not. i wouldn't lie to you." sam hums against your throat, kissing the soft skin. when he talks like that, all low and soothing, you might just believe anything he says. he pulls back to look at your concerned expression, and his smile softens.

his movement stills, and you frown, almost wishing sam would convince you to do more. that feeling in your stomach, the one that felt close to nausea, started to feel nice. and you craved more of it. you craved more of sam.

although his desire outweighed his guilt for ruining the purity of an angel like this, sam still sat up for a moment, his hazel eyes practically begging you. he was nothing, if not a gentleman. "do you want this?" sam asks, hushed and spoken like a prayer, and you think you might get sent to hell just from how he's looking at you.

sam's hair is a ruffled mess, and his long sleeve black shirt was rolled up to his elbows. his carhartt jacket had long been discarded by you, tossed somewhere into the dark abyss that was the dingy, horribly lit motel room. he looks beautiful.

"i do, sammy, but—" you breathe out shakily. before you can finish answering, his hands are on your hips, tugging you closer to him. you're both standing up, his large hands moving up your skirt to trail up your sides. sam can feel your back arch against his hands slightly, and it's taking everything in him to not lose his resolve.

san, who previously said he was okay with waiting, felt like a selfish man tonight. he could honestly care less about your innocence right now. what he did care about was you, though. sam knew that if you wanted him to continue, he wouldn't be able to stop.

"but what?" sam mumbled, his fingertips digging against your hips. his erection was pressed dangerously against your thigh. he shifted you until you were pressed against him — he knew what he was doing and the effect it was having on you. you didn't answer and could only grumble a complaint out.

"just needa taste you, honey. we don't have to go all the way if you don't want to." sam's words are a contradiction to how he was staring at you. "although, i have thought about doing more." he hums, and he has a slight shit eating grin on his face. it's sort of surprising that this is your sweet sammy.

you're conflicted— this is wrong. sinful. but there was a bubbling heat in your stomach, and you wanted nothing more than to make sam feel good. maybe a part of being human was indulging in your sins. you pout at him slightly, and sam has to stop himself from moving his hips up against you. he doesn't just want this, he needs this. he needs to corrupt you, to ruin your innocence until all you can think about is him.

"fine. be gentle, though, sam. i mean it." you relent, although you didn't need much convincing. honestly, if he tried to pull off of you, you'd be the one begging him to touch you and not the other way around.

"oh, fuck—" sam groans, and he almost instantly falls to his knees. his hands are tugging off your jeans faster than you can process. "you don't know how long i've wanted this." his tone makes you feel dirty, and you can't help when your brows crumple into a slight glare. you didn't know what he was doing, but you wanted him to hurry it up.

you help him kick your jeans off around your ankles and step out of them. you're left in your cotton panties, and for some reason, it turns sam on more to know you weren't planning for this. honestly, neither was he.

"leave these on." two fingers slip underneath the elastic by your thigh, tugging them and letting them go, the fabric snapping against your skin. the action makes you suck in a breath. sam's lips make their way to your upper thighs, sucking and kissing at the sensitive skin. it's not enough, and he knows that. he's driving you crazy on purpose to see you squirm for him.

"sam—" you chastise, like a scold, your hand running through his hair and tugging on it gently, trying to bring your hips closer to him. sam fucking moans. he moans at getting his hair pulled, and it makes your brows crease in bewilderment. /you would definitely be keeping that in mind./

sam looks up at you with those same puppydog eyes, and you swear you're going to burst into literal flames and have your wings removed instantly. "needa taste my girl's pussy. y'gonna let me?" sam says softly, his voice muffled by your thigh, gently biting on a spot. when you whimper, he pulls back to kiss at the forming bruise, his hands massaging at the fat of your ass.

truth be told, you'd probably let him fold into a pretzel at this point, but you didn't want to stroke his massive ego.

the noise you make is answer enough, and sam deftly pulls your panties to the side. his hand brings yours to hold them. he needs *both* hands for devouring you. sam's two middle fingers move to collect your slick from your folds, and you shiver. his brows raise, and he smiles again. "you're soaked, baby. you really want me that bad?" he asks, and you're nodding quickly.

sam can't hold back when you look this pretty above him. you can feel his breath against you. even just looking at you bare in front of him is enough to make him want to cum in his fucking jeans.

he flattens his tongue against you, and your hips stutter against his mouth. you've never felt anything like this before. you can feel sam's grin against your cunt, his hands cupping into your ass and pulling your hips further into his mouth.

seeing such a large man, especially one like sam, at his knees, lapping at your pussy like a fucking starved man— it makes your head fuzzy.

without warning, his middle finger slips into you. your hands move to his hair to steady yourself, massaging at the brown strands, pushing some from off his sticky forehead. the concentration on his face is almost cute, but it soon becomes too hard to keep your eyes open.

another finger slips past your folds, and you're mouthing his name like a prayer. his fingers are rocking into you at a slow speed, but his mouth— it was fucking dirty, the way he'd suck on your clit, only pulling away to breathe. everytime he pulled away, a string of saliva followed, connected between you two. his chin was slick with your arousal, his chest panting with heavy breaths. and then he was right back to devouring you.

maybe sam winchester was the devil.

your hands tug on his hair slightly, and sam groans against you. the heat in your stomach was building and sam was near drunk on your pussy. when he looked up at you with those hazel eyes, you moaned, your thighs tremoring.

"sam— sam, it feels too good... please—" you breathed out, panting too now, and sam didn't relent, no matter how hard you were tugging at his hair. his hand was holding your hip hard not daring to let you squirm away from him. indents of his fingertips would ruin your pretty skin by the morning. you had to shy away from his intense gaze.

sam pulled away, still fucking his fingers into you. "eyes on me, baby." he mumbled, before sinking flush against your clit again. you listened, although your face was an embarrassing hue of pink. sam was just as loud and needy, if not worse than you. everytime your thighs clenched around him, or you tugged on his hair, profanities and groans slipped from his lips. he needed you.

sam kept his tongue latched onto you, his eyes showing that he was as desperate as you were to make you cum. the noises he was making were filth, soft grunts and groans, all muffled by your puffy pussy. when your eyes flickered down, you noticed that one of his hands were palming himself through his jeans.

with every shake and spasm, it was like sam knew you were close. he was using his hands to rock your hips more onto his tongue, your weight practically suffocating him. sam would gladly die a happy man in between your folds, if it meant getting to look up at your beautiful face contorting in pleasure. his chest swells at the fact that he is the one who gets to touch you like this.

that feeling returned as quickly as it left, and soon you were cumming on his face, your legs shaking as he kept his fingers curled into your folds. that was probably the best thing you'd felt since coming to earth. sam pressed a kiss to your overstimulated clit, before kissing up your stomach, your breasts, collarbone, and finally standing to his full height over you.

"how was that?" sam asks, licking the wetness off his fingers. as much as he wanted to ruin you, he also wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

heavy pants still wracked both of your bodies, your thighs aching and barely able to hold your own weight. he had the audacity to ask that after making you feel things you hadn't felt in your centuries alive? in between deep breaths, you shot him a slight glare.

"what do you think?" you tutted, puffing his lips out in that gorgeous pout that made sam was to kiss you stupid, holding onto his biceps so you didn't lose balance.

sam grins in response, his hands moving to your bare hips, pressing you into him. his cock was fucking painfully hard and he had to refrain from rutting against you. "i need to fuck you, honey." fuck sam and his beautiful eyes, pleading at you. his hand leads your to palm him from over his jeans, and he moans softly, so prettily.

you were conflicted. you knew his cock would feel so much better than his fingers, but this was wrong. "sammy—" you say in the same chastising voice that drives him insane.

"please, let me fuck you. need to feel you around my dick. fuck, doesn't even have to be all the way." sam pleads, and you have a hard time saying no to that. he was practically begging you. you sigh at how weak you were for this man. "please fuck me, sam."

sam eyes widen slightly, and he can't help his grin as he pushes you back against the bed. his eyes stay on you as he pulls his shirt off, discarding it across the motel floor along with all of yours. you can't help but stare at him. all tanned, scarred, and bruised, despite being young. it was so different compared to your imperfect skin, free of any blemishes or let alone scars.

sam's tantalizingly slow as he takes off his belt, followed by his jeans. he's fucking huge. that much you can tell by his bulge alone. your eyes widen slightly when he strips his boxers off.

he wanted to take his time with you, to treat you like the goddamn angel you were, to wrack every noise he can from your lips. but, sam was impatient as hell. and he was really, really hard.

"you're beautiful." sam coos, caging you in between his much larger frame. there is a shine in his gaze, so soft and loving, that it almost makes you feel queasy. he's not doing this because he's bored or because he wants to get off. sam's doing this because you're his world.

"you're alright." you respond, not able to hold back the giggle that escaped your lips afterward, especially when you felt sam's annoyed sigh against the crook of your neck. you can feel his irritated grin. sam fell in love with that devilish laugh of yours, and he found it endearing that even during this, he could make you sound like that.

it was such a sharp contrast from how emotionless and... awkward— you first were when you met the winchester brothers. sam has loved watching you adapt this sassy personality, loved eyeing you while you admire new things, hearing the way your voice heightened whenever you laughed, the way you took over parts of his and dean's own quirks and personalities.

"just alright? you wound me, angel."

this time, you rolled your eyes. you turn your head to the side to press your lips against the mole below his right eye. "you're beautiful too, sammy. you already know that." you huff out, your tone unmistakably soft. sam scoffed, nipping at her neck slightly. it was nice to hear that from you, regardless of what he thought about himself.

unfortunately for you, the compliment rushes to sam's head. he sits up slightly, his cock pressed against your lower stomach, a hand brushing over your cheek, moving your fanned hair out of your face. "are you sure you're okay with this? we can stop— i'll put on a movie, and we can forget—"

you interrupt sam's worries by pressing a kiss to his palm. "yes sam, i'm sure. please." and that small act of intimacy followed by your voice pleading for him was enough reassurance for sam. no need to tell him twice.

sam pumps himself a few times, his eyes not once leaving yours. "scoot your hips up for me, honey." you oblige, and you can feel his cock pressed against your clothed entrance. the sight leaves nothing for the imagination and sam sighs as his fingers pulls your panties down to your ankles.

sam looks like he's in fucking heaven, his lips parted and staring at you bare in front of him. his thumb habitually moves to your clit, rubbing soft circles against it just to watch you squirm under him.

"sam, quit being a damn tease." you frown and wiggle your hips into his more. his gaze is making you shy, something you didn't know was even possible as an angel.

"innocent angel, my ass." sam mumbles under his breath, but he obliges, lining up his cock to you. he collects your slick with his tip, dragging the wetness over your already overstimulated clit. sam rubs it against your folds a few times, before pressing only about halfway in. the moan that leaves your lips is heavenly, so much so that sam's head has to fall to your shoulder and bites it softly so he doesn't cum too fast like a damn high schooler.

"you're so fucking tight, shit—" sam groans and it's so dirty coming from him. he's usually so sweet to you, so hearing this is different. and arousing. but different. you'd expect this talk out of dean, not sam.

sam really wished he would've slept around a little more in college now because it was taking far too much concentration to not finish already.

"need to fuck you, baby. please." sam all but whimpers out. all of your beliefs, your nightly prayers, all of it was gone the second you felt him inside of you. you can only nod in response, your hands tugging at his waist to come closer to you.

sam stills, looking at you for a moment like he can't believe you want this. and slowly, he pushes in all the way, and you both share a pornographic moan.

sam is quiet as he lets you adjust to his size. he wasn't one to toot his own horn, but he was pretty big. and even though your vessel wasn't a virgin, mentally, you still were. sam had a mantra of things going through his head — the main ones being: please don't cum, please don't cum, please don't cum. don't say i love you. don't move too fast yet. let her adjust.

sam leans down to kiss your forehead. "good?" he hums.

you nod again. "hurts a little." and sam is nothing but patient, kissing each of your temples before brushing your hair away.

"i promise you're doing so good. it's gonna hurt for a moment. it'll feel better soon. just relax." sam murmured against your shoulder, his lips sighing down towards your collarbone. "gonna move now, sweet girl." calloused palms are pressing your thighs to your chest. he leans down enough so you can hold on to his shoulders if you need.

with one hand still on the back of your leg, and the other one cupping one of your breasts, he pulls out almost all the way before rocking in slowly. your eyes screwing shut from pleasure is enough to test the waters with a more heavy thrust. "that's it, baby. look at you—" sam groans, his fingertips digging into your skin. his eyes were glued to where his cock was entering you rhythmically, and god, he could get addicted to that sight. sam could fucking see where the tip of his cock was pressing into your belly. his palm moved over it, adding slight pressure to your lower pelvis. the feeling made him groan out your name softly. he was just as loud as you were. "so beautiful."

part of you wanted sam to shut up so you could focus on the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, but the other half of you enjoyed the flithy words leaving his flushed lips.

"oh, fuck. sammy, 's too much—" you whimpered out, your hand squeezing his biceps. your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him closer, the balls of your heels digging against his ass. sam think he likes that you're not very vocal. it makes every beg, every moan that much more special to him. he was the only one who got to see his angel falling apart like this.

everything about sam is fucking massive, from his height, to his sheer size difference over you. it shouldn't have been shocking that his dick was huge too, but you felt it now. you felt every single inch, stretching you out, your arousal slipping down his shaft. sam's thrusts grew more feverish, his shaggy brown bangs falling into his face as his head fell forward slightly. "i know you can handle it baby." he grunted in response to your plea, hazel eyes fucked out with lust.

that feeling in your lower belly returned, and now, at least, you know what it meant. it was overwhelming, but not enough for you. your hand reached for sam's hand, guiding it to you clit. sam thought that was the hottest thing he'd ever fucking seen, and shuddered slightly. "you wanna cum around my cock? is that it, sweetheart?" sam asks, a small, contemplating smile on his lips.

you're writhing under his cock, your back arching off the bed, his thumb rubbing soft circles around your nub. you tap his bicep in warning of your approaching orgasm, but he doesn't stop. he doesn't slow down either. in fact, he ruts his hips faster. the feeling of you clenching around his dick is enough to send him over the edge, too. he's biting down hard on his cheek to stop himself from cumming before you. he wants, needs to see you cum first, before he can.

your face contorts into pleasure, and you cum hard, sam still fucking you through your orgasm. he groans and his eyes close when he watches you making a mess all over him. "thaaat's it. that's my girl." he encourages, the feeling of your walls clenching around him tipping him over the edge. "fuck. gonna fill you up." he grunts against your shoulder, his hips stuttering slightly and you moan as you feel his cock twitch inside you, before you feel cum spurt into your cunt.

sam pulls out a moment after, his eyes blown out when he watches his spend leak from your pulsating hole. he uses two fingers to spread it around over your folds. once he's satisfied with his handiwork, he slumps down into the bed next to you.

you're still a panting, sighing mess. you feel your legs twitch occasionally, and you're finally coming to your senses. you were just fucked stupid by your best friend. a human.

"jesus, sam. is this really what humans are doing?" you ask, out of genuine curiosity, and sam pinches your side with a slight laugh. he looks spent, almost as bad as you. his head falls to your shoulder, pressing his lips to the soft skin present.

"the lucky ones, yeah." sam huffs in amusement. "you're okay, right? i didn't hurt you, or pressure you or anything?" his voice is a little persistent, worried, already overthinking like he wasn't just inside of you.

"'course not. that was amazing. i think i'd go to hell if it meant having sex everyday— i see why castiel was encouraging me into trying this." you tilt your head to the side, and sam raises an eyebrow. he didn't even dare ask what odd things castiel told you about. nor did he want to know. he couldn't see castiel doing anyone without scaring them away with his bluntness first.

sam chooses to ignore that, leaning over to pepper kisses onto your cheeks, nose, and forehead. anywhere you'll let him at this point. "you did amazing. absolutely drained me. y'sure you haven't done that before?" he teases, and you roll your eyes at him. your eyes watched him with concern when sam stood.

"alright, crazy girl. let's get you cleaned up."

[em-ontv]

Soothe and pamper.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: it had been a long week of hunting, and Dean said he was fine… until you came in, of course.

Content: fluff, Dean being needy and overdramatic (and clingy), no use of y/n, Sam being the third wheel (kind of)

English is not my first language, sorry if there are any mistakes!

Word count: 653

Dean Winchester was a master at the "I'm fine" act. After years of being on the hunt, he could brush off a rough week like it was second nature. So, when Sam asked if he was okay after their latest exhausting hunt, he just scoffed, as usual.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." Dean said, waving a dismissive hand like he was brushing off a pesky fly, as if he hadn't spent the last seven days chasing after demons across two states.

"Quit worrying, Sammy."

Sam raised an eyebrow but didn't press any further. This was like Dean's default setting—deny, deflect, and pretend like everything was cool, even if he looked like he'd been chewed up and spat out.

But then, you walked into the room.

As soon as Dean caught sight of you, his entire demeanor shifted. The tough-as-nails hunter, who moments ago had been shrugging off his brother's concern, let out an over-the-top groan so loud it echoed through the bunker.

You barely had a chance to say a word before Dean threw himself into your arms like a wounded soldier returning from battle.

"This week—oh, you wouldn't believe it!" He buried his face into your shoulder with a pitiful groan, his voice muffled against your shirt. "It's been so bad, baby. So bad."

You could feel the weight of his body sag against yours, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. He nestled his head into the crook of your neck.

It would've been pathetic if it wasn't so funny.

"I don't know how I made it out alive," Dean continued, pulling back just enough to look at you with wide, puppy-dog eyes, his bottom lip sticking out in an exaggerated pout. "The food was nasty, the motel beds were terrible, and don't even get me started on the demons!"

You ran your fingers through his hair as he rambled on, completely lost in the comfort of being with you.

"Do you see this?" He gestured toward his body. "I'm a broken man."

Sam, watching this unfold, rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck. "You've gotta be kidding me."

And Dean ignored him completely.

"You're the only one who understands, sweetheart." He whined, clinging onto you like his life depended on it. "Sam's no help, he doesn't get it."

"Dean," you said, struggling to keep a straight face. "You were fine like five seconds ago."

"What are you talking about?" He squeezed you tighter, feigning innocence. "I was just holding it all in. I didn't want to scare Sammy. But now... now I can finally let it all out."

"Uh-huh," you said dryly. "And how much of this is just you wanting to get pampered?"

Dean gasped in mock offense, pulling back to look at you again. "Me? Using my genuine suffering to get pampered? I would never—"

You raised an eyebrow at him.

He hesitated for a second, then smirked. "Okay, maybe a little."

Sam snorted in the background, shaking his head as he headed for the door. "You two are ridiculous," he called over his shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders. "Well, what can I do to make it better, Dean?"

He was still leaning heavily into your embrace. "You. Me. Bed. Cuddles... for my emotional well-being, of course."

You smiled slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. "And all your troubles will disappear?"

"Exactly," Dean grumbled, sounding so serious you had to hold back a laugh. "Exactly." He sighed, content now, taking advantage of the situation for all it was worth.

"And if you throw in a back rub, I'll be a whole new man by morning." He added, his lips twitched into a smile.

"Alright, drama queen. But only because I know how hard it is to be you." you laughed softly.

"You're the only one who understands." Dean murmured, his voice filled with gratitude.