#sam Winchester x reader

[g8taloadofdisguy]

[outof-spite]

this nigga Dean could get his ass beat to a PULP, and still mog THE FUCK into the camera brother omggg 😭😭😭

[bruisedfig]

I have such a big thigh ride/thigh job kink- like Sam will just be reading a book and you'll be a whimpering mess in his lap and he just nudges his thigh up and down- maybe a little bit of anxiety? But you love him just as much for all him 😩 he whispers sweet praises and tells you how you'll soak his thighs like AAAA

omg i’m not even a sam girly but i’m twirling my hair and kicking my feet at this 🫡 this accidentally turned into a mini drabble idek i love thigh riding lol anyway 18+ pls <3

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

sam’s researching for a case and you’re all needy because he’s been out all day, leaving you alone back at the motel. dean’s gone out for a beer at the local dive, finally giving you and sam some time alone. but sam is just soooo busy. “c’mon, this case is important. can’t you wait?”

but your constant whining and fidgeting is so distracting, pulling his thoughts away from the lore books entirely, which causes him to finally break. “fine. c’mere, baby.”

sam lets you slip onto his thighs, your body cuddling up against his firm torso, your core pressing against his thigh muscle, trapped under his rough denim jeans.

your little fidgeting movements placate the aching between your legs, helping you find relief and pleasure. sam tries not to notice the grinding against his leg, but he’s just a man. his dick twitches in his boxers, and a smirk graces his face.

he starts bouncing his leg a little for you, helping your movements. as louder moans and whimpers tumble out of your mouth from his physical encouragement, he can’t help but praise you. you’re just too sweet. “there we go. is that helping, angel? you’re doing so good. keep going. you feel so warm, baby. gonna soak my leg at this rate.”

andddd you do. and then again, and again, and again, but around his cock when he finally gets you under him on the motel bed, helping you out like a good boyfriend should.

[melwnst]

☆ ⋅ ⋆ your camera roll if you were dating Sam Winchester…

Here’s Sam’s version:) while on my writing break please send me requests if u have any<3

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

CRUSH- S. WINCHESTER

day five of the june bug masterlist

pairing: hunter! sam winchester x hunter! fem! reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: just a typical morning that you and sam have in the motels on a day off from hunting!

warnings: thigh riding, heavy praise and dirty talk, heavy size kink, pet names, finger sucking, sam is a soft dom, swearing, lots of fluff!

*reader description is not mentioned, but sam braids her hair!

“ i only want him if he says it first to me, i wanna, uh, him in the back of his mom's mercury/ he looks like he works with his hands, and smells like marlboro reds, it makes me so, uh, and i can't get enough of it”- crush, ethel cain

You had just finished tugging on your panties when the motel door swung open, and the familiar smell of coffee and fresh mint wafted in.

You didn't even need to look up to know who it was.

“Hiya sweetheart.” your boyfriend Sam called, a paper bag carrying the one thing you had been craving since yesterday.

Bagels. Not any bagels.

Speciality bagels that were locally made, from whatever shitty, grungy town you were in now- that had smelt heavenly when the three of you drove by earlier that week. They had been on your mind ever since.

And now? You were about to taste the best  bagel with cream cheese you had ever tasted in your life.

You were sure of it. You ran over to where your moose stood, not even bothering to toss on a shirt over your bra, arms open as you jumped up onto him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs around his torso as he laughed. “Someones happy to be awake. What happened to this chipper energy when I first went out?”

“Didn't have bagels.” you murmured into his neck, planting a kiss, a gentle bite to his pulse point. He gasped, rolling his eyes as your confession, as if he was personally wounded from your words.

“So my girlfriend only cares about me when I bring her food. Got it. That's going great for me, I guess.”

You shrugged, a smirk on your face as you snatched the bag from him, taking a deep whiff of the fresh bread. “You’re cute too, I guess. That's a plus.” you teased, grabbing breakfast and taking a bite, moaning as the warm, soft dough seemed to melt in your mouth.

“Well sit down silly so I can do your hair.” Sam ushered you over to the bed, and you sat down against the frame on the floor, spilling crumbs on the carpet while you happily munched away.

It was routine at this point for Sam to braid your hair. You don't know why he loved doing it so much, but god you were thankful everyday for it.

Whether it was calming for him, as it was for you- or just kept his hands and fingers occupied- you didn't know. But he was so gentle with you, always so concentrated as he twisted the strands nimbly through his fingers.

Plus, you were always rewarded with a gentle head massage beforehand, which almost always sent you back to sleep. But today, you had that luxury.

Not that you wanted to take it- of course, you were much too excited to have a day off from a hunt with Sam, to actually spend time doing something together. Though today, you didn't want to do much of anything.

As if on cue, you heard him break free from thought, taking a second to reach and sip his coffee before letting his fingers continue their duties.

“What do you wanna do today sweetheart?” he asked.

“Hmm. I think there's a creek not too far from here. I wanna catch some frogs.” you confessed. It was so nice out today, a gentle breeze, not too many clouds- yet it was still warm enough for you to wear a nice little cotton dress.

Plus, it was a little damp- perfect for your buddies to be hopping around the taller grass.

“You’re not gonna kiss any, are you?”

You laughed. “When I already have my prince charming? How could I?”

You felt the braid coming to an end, his fingers stretching the elastic around to tie it off, before a little ribbon was tied in a bow. It was pink today, a favourite of his- you noted.

Told you it brought out the softness of your eyes, claiming they were like a bunnies. Or a fawns. It depended on the day.

You whipped your mouth free from crumbs and a little smudge of cream cheese on your lower lip as you finished your last little bite before stretching up to wrap your arms around him again.

A soft kiss was planted to the top of your head as you snuggled into him and the warmth he provided, not quite with enough force to sprawl him backwards on the little double bed, but you sure as hell tried.

“Why are you so big?” you asked, making him smile.

“Why are you so small?”

“Everyone is small compared to you.”

He shrugged, scooping you up so you were firmly pressed against him, chest to chest. “Gonna finish getting ready?” he asked, letting his eyes glance down appreciatively to gaze at the cleavage that tempted him, biting his lip.

Sam Winchester was a gentleman. But with you, it became hard to control his urges.

“Do you want me to finish getting ready?” you batted your lashes seductively, shifting your weight so you straddled one of his thick thighs, humming appreciatively at his longing look.

He parted his lips,as if he were to speak, but stopped himself as soon as the whisper of your lips grazed his. “Thank you for the braid baby. It’s lovely. You always make me feel beautiful.” you smiled, kissing him slow and deep, shifting your hips so you grinded suddenly against him.

He groaned, aware of your little antics. The frogs could wait. The world, in fact- could wait. Right now it was just you and him, savouring the quiet, early morning- the sound of the wind in the tree branches all that could be heard.

“You always look beautiful. My beautiful little fawn.” he murmured, capturing your chin with his thumb, stroking it delicately. You smiled, feeling heat rise to your cheeks at his compliments.

“So should I get ready or- oh!” you squealed as his hands found their way to your hips, rocking them back and forth against the denim.

“Don't be a minx sweetheart. Finish what you started for me. C'mon now.” he smirked, knowing he held the upper hand. You always tried to get him flustered, but it always seemed to work out the other way around.

Here you were, trying to get him riled just for it to actually work. Almost as if that was the point.

As if on command, your hips slide forward, and you started to pick up an easy, steady pace he helped you with, with the quick and rhythmic bounce of his knee.

You moaned at the friction, letting your head loll back as his lips peppered sweet kisses and bites across your neck.

“Atta girl. Feel it out sweetheart.”

You nodded, fingers slipping up to grip his bulky shoulders, clinging onto them for dear life as you began to spiral. He made you feel so good without even barely needing to touch you, just a few sweet praises here and there and you melted into a puddle for him. So malleable, he couldn't help but take advantage of the sweet state you were left in.

“Sammy-”

“Shh. Shush baby. Don't wanna wake Dean in the other room now do we?”

You quickly shook your head, eyes wide as his two fingers slipped in your mouth, the pads warm and heavy against your tongue as you lapped at them appreciatively.

“Just stay like that sweet thing, keep makin yourself feel good for me. You making a mess on my jeans? Dirty girl.” he cooed softly, chuckling at the little wet patch that had formed on the dark blue fabric.

Your eyes refused to leave his, wide with something of shock mixed with pleasure and appreciation at his dirty, but soft words that drove you crazy. Something like a mumbled “Love you.” softly left your lips and he smiled, hand on your hip tightling slightly as you let yourself go, unraveling around him.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum for me sweetheart. So desperate for that little release, yea?”

You nodded, a trail of salvia connecting your lip to his fingers as he tugged them out with a little pop, letting you finally push him back onto the bed, so he was sprawled out under you.

“My turn to tease now.” you hiccuped, eyes glossed over from your sudden orgasm as you restraddled yourself onto the prominent bulge that poked at you, aching.

He smiled, letting you capture his forearms and place them beside his head, like you had any ability to seriously pin him down.

“Do your worst sweetheart.”

Yeah, the frog catching could wait, just a while longer.

[tinaascended]

a/n i missed my sammy :((( i'm sorry baby i'll never cheat on you again and only write about you

notices includes explicit content. smut with no plot. established rp. unprotected sex. sam being a sweetheart he always is. (I NEED HIM)

the motel room is wrapped in silence, save for your soft whimpers leaving your lips, his name moaned out like he's the only real thing left in the world. the bedside lamp is off, only the faint streetlight glow seeps through the dusty blinds, painting the room in soft shadows and gold edges.

the sheets are half off the bed, tangled around your feet. sam’s on top of you, slow and steady, his body pressed to yours, his dick buried deep inside you like he’s trying to make sure you feel everything.

his face is barely visible in the dim light filtering through the blinds. his hair falls forward, damp around his temples, and his gaze is locked on yours. every thrust is slow, deep. his hands are cradling your face, thumbs brushing along your cheeks, and his lips kiss you like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you.

there’s no rush in the way he moves, like he’s learning the shape of you all over again. your thighs are around his waist and his forehead is pressed to yours, damp hair brushing your cheeks.

“you okay?” he asks in a whisper, brushing your hair back behind your ear. his voice is low, rough, and so full of care it makes your chest ache.

you nod softly, lips brushing his. “yeah. just…”

he slows his pace, searching your face.

“just?”

you let out a tiny breath. “i’m cold.”

sam’s eyes soften instantly, and without hesitation, he pulls out, still breathless. "why didn't you say anything, baby?" he whispers as he leans forward, kissing your forehead with such reverence.

he looks at you, only for a second, just long enough for you to see the concern behind his eyes and then he’s moving again, but not inside you. his hands leave your skin and he leans over the bed to grab the shirt he tossed off earlier. it’s one of those soft, worn-in flannels you love, the kind that still smells like him even after a wash.

he doesn’t ask. he just tugs the shirt gently over your head, helping you sit up just enough to slide your arms through.

the moment it’s over your body, his hands smooth down your sides, tugging the hem, “better?” he murmurs, his nose brushing your temple.

you give him a small smile. “yeah. much better.”

his eyes roam your body, before he leans his face down to your ear, his breath hot on your skin, "you look good", he whispers, before pressing a kiss right below your ear.

the smallest giggle leaves your lips. he smiles too, that crooked, quiet one he only gives when he’s fully, completely in the moment with you. you feel it on your neck. then he kisses you. slow, open-mouthed, like he’s telling you something with every press of his lips.

you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back down. he slides inside you again, gentle and warm, both of you gasping softly.

he groans low against your cheek, voice gravel-soft. “fuck… you feel so good.”

you let your fingers tangle in his hair. “so do you”, your whispered words were followed by a moan.

your shirt his shirt is bunched around your hips, the buttons brushing your stomach. he reaches down to tug it lower, covering more of you. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer, as he pushes in deeper. you tried moaning out, but your breath hitched, your eyebrows pressed together.

he moves inside you slowly, deliberately, one hand at the small of your back, the other in your hair. his mouth never leaves you for long, he kisses your lips, your throat, the corner of your mouth when you smile mid-moan. it’s not about chasing the high. it’s about giving. about holding you in a way that says i’m not going anywhere.

the steady, careful way he moves like he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. the way your name falls off his lips in that soft, rasping voice. the way he keeps whispering “i’ve got you… i’ve got you…” even though you’re not saying a word.

you feel the familiar burn deep and low in your stomach. you whisper his name once, a soft, trembling “sam…” and he looks at you like he already knew.

“i know, baby” he whispers.

his right hand moves between your legs, his thumb pressing against your clit in a way that made your fingers grip his hair tighter, your legs shaking and trembling around his waist.

you cried out, his name leaving your lips repeatedly like a prayer. your head tipped back, your neck brushing against his lips, practically begging to be touched, kissed, sucked on.

"come on, honey, let go for me," he whispers. he leans his face lower, his lips immediately, impatiently sucking on the spot right below your ear, muttering "let me hear your pretty sounds."

your breath catches and your arms wrap tighter around his neck. you clench around him and he groans in your ear, "jesus- you feel so good"

your orgasm hits you like a crash. your body shudders against his, your breath catching in his mouth as he kisses you through it. your fingers clutch at his back, buried in his hair, your face tucked into the curve of his neck as that final wave crashes over you.

his lips never stop moving.

“good girl…”

“you sound so beautiful…”

“i’ve got you…”

“i'm right here…”

he’s whispering between gasps and kisses, brushing your hair from your face, one hand cradling the back of your head like you’re fragile, meant to be carefully taken care of.

sam lets out a low, shaky groan, his arms tightening around you as he comes with you , not separate, but with you, filling you whole, holding you like something precious, grounding himself in your skin, your scent, your softness.

you’re both breathing hard, he's still deep inside you, bodies still tangled, his hand gently stroking your spine now, slow and soothing.

your head is buried in his shoulder. your body feels weightless. safe.

"you okay, baby?" he whispers, almost inaudible. and you just nod, faintly, exhausted.

your heart’s still racing, but it’s slowing now. in time with his.

his chest presses against yours. you can feel his heartbeat. solid. steady.

yours.

I KNOW I WAS MAKING A TAGLIST LIKE 3 WEEKS AGO IM SORRY

TAGLIST @iris-w1nchester @mostlymarvelgirl @charliesangel67

MASTERLIST

I'M SO IN LOVE W HIM I CAN NOT HELP MYSELF

SOMEBODY SEDATE ME

[wvffles]

this is so good !!!!! 💓💓💓

You weren’t looking for permission, yet the moment he gave it, you felt yourself unravel.

“Didn’t know you could get prettier,” Sam mumbled, cradling you close to him, “but, holy shit, you’re drop-dead gorgeous when you come.”

whewwwwwwww 🥵🫠❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

she’s so real for that tbh

“I’ll buy you a gallon of the stuff if that’s all it takes.”

“You’re a dog.” You pretended to be annoyed, rolling your eyes. You were used to him at this point, comfortable with him to a point that was strange when you remembered you had just met the man less than an hour ago.

“Woof woof.” He replied, slapping a sloppy kiss on your cheek. It was so casual, like you two did this all the time.

this is the absolute cutestttt fr 😩💗💗

the hopeless romantic in me loves instant connections idk <333 this is amazing !!!!💕💕

ICEBREAKER one

pairing: stanford!hockey player!sam winchester x figure skater!female!reader

content: language, slightly ooc sam, smut (semi-public dry humping, dirty talk, semi-public making out)

word count: 3.1k

note: first part, yay, yay!! this was supposed to be a long one-shot fic, but your girl has the 'too much' gene and went all in. so here we are! i hope you like it <33

You didn’t even know why you were at this party. Maybe to numb the stress of school and competition season mixing together, not that you could drink. No, not with the strict regimen your coaches put on the team.

Oh, yeah, coaches, another reason why you shouldn’t be at this party right now. If they caught you here, even if you were simply in the background of a photo, it would be your ass cleaning up the rink after every practice.

God, you couldn’t do this anymore. You needed air. The boom of the music was too loud, the sweat slicking off of your friends’ bodies too sticky.

“Outside!” You shouted to your friend, Lissa, and pointed to the back door of the frat house. She waved you off with a smile, eyes glassing over from the third – no, fifth – cup of… whatever the hell mixture she had concocted in that Solo cup. She was taking full advantage of your status as D.D. for the night.

You rolled your eyes playfully, shuffling through the crowd of twenty-something kids trying to grind on each other. The night air was sharp, soft goosebumps popping up on your bare arms.

Why none of the party goers wanted to be in the calm of the backyard was beyond you, but you were thankful for the quiet. A few questionably clean pieces of patio furniture were out near the almost overgrown grass. You decided the risk of some spider crawling up your leg was worth it and settled into the cushioned seat of a bench.

The crisscrossed green and white of the vines crawling up the pergola's wood-beam walls blocked the visuals of the party and only a stream of muffled music made its way to your ears. You sighed, leaning back and closing your eyes.

The steps of your routine for the first competition flashed behind your eyelids. Spins and flips, especially those that you initially struggled to get down, taunted you, making what was supposed to be a peaceful night very, very stressful.

You hadn't even noticed your mumbling until a voice rang out, cutting through your quiet.

“What the hell is a Biellmann?”

Your eyes shot open, flitting around frantically to find the intruder.

Standing there, with an adorable flop of brown hair, was Sam Winchester. Hockey god, Sam Winchester.

You'd heard of him, seen his face. It was hard to ignore his photographed smile charming you from the walls of the rink every time you went in for practice. You'd never met him, somehow, which made your staring at him very strange, to say the least.

“You good?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows at you with that damn crooked grin he shared with his brother.

The memory of the Wicked Winchesters – named aptly because of their tendency to absolutely crush the opposing team just as the pair of them – snapped you out of your trance. You scoffed, irritation bleeding in to cover the embarrassment of the situation.

“Why are you out here?” You mumbled, raising a brow.

The bite you meant to put in your tone must not have come through, or maybe it did and he just didn't care, because his grin grew wider.

“You want a picture?” Sam asked.

Upon seeing your confusion, he let out a little chuckle and plopped down next to you, making the metal feet of the bench scrape against the concrete.

“You know, since you seem so enamored with my facial features.” He watched your face shift back to irritation.

“Big word for a puck-head.” You grumbled with a roll of your eyes. You sipped on your drink, the lukewarm lemonade doing nothing to quell your attraction to Sam's bicep.

“Puck-head? Who says that?” He laughed, clearly not offended. He slung his arm across the back of the bench, the skin of his arm just grazing your neck. You tried not to shiver at the touch.

“I do.” You defended, turning so you were sitting at an angle, giving you a break from physical touch.

He was attractive. And charming. And tall. And his lips had you wondering what they tasted like. But none of that could matter right now, not when you'd taken a vow of celibacy for your competition season.

“You're somethin’ else, darlin’.” Sam mumbled, eyes grazing over your bare thighs.

Thank you Lissa for forcing this mini-dress onto my body, you thought.

“You never answered my question.” You pointed out, crossing your legs so your dress rode up a bit more. He looked up at you, eyes sparkling.

“You never answered mine.” He tilted his head and mimicked a camera taking a picture.

“No. No pictures.” You answered quickly, then added on, in a biting fashion, “darlin’.”

Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s just hotter when you say it like that.” He licked his lips, sipping on his drink.

“Your turn.” You reminded him, ignoring the urge you had to smile. He sighed and looked around, brown eyes finally landing on you.

“There’s no one out here.” He let his eyes rake down your body. “No one but you, it seems.” His eyes found yours again. You pursed your lips in a small pout, one that had Sam’s eyes twinkling with interest.

“So?” You couldn’t help the sass that invaded your words. Wasn’t Sam Winchester supposed to be partying it up with his buddies over at the keg stand?

“So…,” his head rolled to the side slowly while he dragged the word out, “I need quiet. To focus.”

Your faced screwed up in confusion again.

“Focus? For what?” You couldn’t think of one thing in Sam’s life that required focus. Not that you knew much of his life, but you could guess, for the most part, what it consisted of. Wake up, pound some pre workout, and go bash heads with his teammates.

Sam’s expression of “Really?” made you scoff in annoyance, though you didn’t know if that emotion was made stronger by your intense urge to lick over his throat.

“What could possibly be important enough for you to need focus, Samuel?” You went to sip your drink again before noticing the cup was empty. Apparently you were thirstier than you originally thought.

“First of all, it’s Sam,” he corrected with a grin, “but it’s cute that you know my name.”

“It’s not-,” you began, but Sam cut you off.

“To answer your question, I have a game coming up. Though I’m sure you already knew that, seeing how you seem to know all about me.” He raised his eyebrows, on the verge of laughing.

“I don’t know all about you. Just the basics.” You argued, unable to stop the blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“Right, the basics,” he said it in a mocking tone that had you pouting again, “like my full name and my skills in bed.”

“I don’t know about your skills in bed.” You immediately defended, not realizing you’d fallen right into his trap until the words were already out. You squeezed your eyes shut in a cringe while he replied.

“Wanna find out?” You could hear that utterly charming annoying grin seeping into his words. You could also feel the little flutter in your gut telling you that his words really were having an effect on you, much to your dismay.

“Stupid pickup line.” You grumbled, fighting the urge – yet again – to smile.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Sam laughed, stretching his hands over his head which resulted in his shirt lifting just enough for you to see a peek of his abs and happy trail.

“Needed some work.” You mumbled, eyes still trained on the newly-revealed skin.

“Maybe you could help me out with it, since you’re so knowledgeable.” He tilted his head a bit, catching your attention. You flicked your gaze up without moving your head, locking eyes with him. He smirked, a crooked little thing that simultaneously annoyed and turned you on.

“See something you like?” It was the cockiness that had you rolling your eyes, not the need to drag your attention away from something other than the hunk of man in front of you.

“Why do you need to focus for this game? Isn’t it easy? Puck-in-net, game over?” You asked, trying to change the subject. It seemed to work.

“Oh yeah, real simple stuff. That’s why we get a bigger budget than you guys.” Sam’s comment surprised you. He knew who you were then, just as you had.

“No, you get a bigger budget because the budget office gets a hard-on for guys beating on each other.” You didn’t even notice you relaxing back against the bench, Sam’s arm grazing your hairline again.

“You think a bunch of twirling deserves more money?”

“It’s not just twirling. Do you know how hard it is to land some of those moves? No, because you look out on the ice and see a big playground for caveman punching.” You were being completely unfair and you knew it. That fact didn’t stop the wash of excitement at the chance to fully argue with someone. It’d been a while since you clicked with someone like this, especially someone as hot as Sam.

“You keep insinuating that we’re dumb.” He raised a brow. “Is that what you think?”

That flustered you.

“Well, I…,” you tried to collect yourself, “I’ve heard things. Things that add evidence to my thinking.”

“I’m pre-law.” Sam told you, giving you a short nod to further push his point. “Dean – I assume you know him too, gorgeous – he’s majoring in kinesiology. We’re not dumb.”

You blinked at him, a small frown forming on your face that Sam wanted to kiss off.

“I…,” you attempted to think of another defense. You couldn’t. This was one of the very rare times you were wrong. “You’re right. You’re not dumb.”

Then you remembered the point at hand.

“We don’t just twirl out there.” You huffed, scooting closer. Your knees were touching the denim fabric of his thigh now. “It’s really calculated stuff, Sam.”

“Yeah, I know.” He shrugged, chugging the rest of his drink and setting the cup down on the cement patio. “Just wanted to see how fired up you would get about it.”

You made a small noise of annoyance, though the smile creeping onto your face betrayed it.

“You’re insufferable.” You grinned, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress. Sam’s eyes dragged to the movement like a magnet to metal.

“Big word for a ribbon-head.” Sam mumbled teasingly.

“Ribbon-head?”

“See how ridiculous it sounds.”

You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth to keep from smiling too wide. Your fingers slowly moved, on their own accord, from your dress to his thigh, tracing lazy circles into the fabric.

“It was a bit ridiculous.” You admitted. You felt the pressure of Sam’s arm falling to rest on your shoulders. It wasn’t heavy, at least, not as heavy as you were expecting. Comforting and sexy were better words to describe it.

“I’ll let it slide, alcohol impairs my judgement too.” He nodded at your abandoned cup.

“No alcohol. That was all me, unfortunately.” You glanced at him, narrowing your eyes playfully. “I actually stick to my athletic contract.” You tapped his empty cup with the toe of your shoe.

“Mmm, me too, pretty girl,” you ignored the shiver that crept over you at the pet name, “it’s that shitty powdery stuff Delta Phi calls ‘lemonade.’”

“It was pretty bad, wasn’t it? The cafe down the street from my apartment makes theirs homemade, every morning. That is lemonade.” You didn’t know why you felt the need to share this information with him, but it felt right.

“Maybe you could take me some time, let me buy you a cup of it.” Sam shifted a bit closer to you.

You should have rolled your eyes again, maybe told him that pickup line was worse than the last. Instead, you gave him a slight smile.

“Maybe I could.”

Your eyes locked with his. The leaning of your body closer to him was something you were doing unconsciously, just needing to be closer to him. Sam watched you with interest, tongue darting out to lick across his lips.

“No sex.” You mumbled, leaning in closer. Your heart leapt at his soft chuckle.

“What kind of man do you take me for?” His lips were inches from yours, so close you could smell his breath – a mix of mint and that God-awful lemonade that had you wanting to taste him.

“I mean it. I don’t hook up during comps.” Your hand slid up his chest – pure muscle under your touch – and rested on his shoulder. His hand found your hip, pleasure sparking where his fingers gently gripped you.

“Yeah, I got that, sweetheart.” His words were mumbled onto your lips, skin brushing skin. You figured one more reminder of that would be overkill, especially with your resolve slowly breaking down with every second that passed.

You kissed him, soft and slow, savoring this moment with him. Sam’s grasp on you tightened slightly when a whimper hummed from your throat, motivating you to kiss him deeper. You slowly crawled onto his lap with his assistance.

He nibbled softly on your bottom lip and you granted him access to your mouth, parting your lips just enough to let him in. Your mind was fuzzy from the simple high of being near him, but one thing you could be certain of, that stupid lemonade tasted much better when you were licking it off of his tongue.

With your knees settled on either side of his thighs, you slid your hands up to tangle your fingers in his hair, earning you a hum from him. Your dress rode up with your position, the fabric bunching up where Sam held your hips.

He shifted, settling into a more comfortable position, and that's when you felt it. The seam of the front of his jeans brushed against your clit through your panties. A noise, just a small whimper that you tried to force down, tumbled out, making Sam smirk against your lips.

When you experimentally rolled your hips with another noise, he pulled away, breathing heavy.

“Thought you didn't do hook ups.” He pointed out, even as you rocked down into him again. You let out a shaky breath, fingers tugging at his hair gently.

“It's not sex if our clothes stay on.” You panted. If that logic had worked for your strict-Christian freshman year roommate, then it would work for you as well. A grin cracked across Sam's face.

“I like the way you think.” He said approvingly before diving back into the kiss. You gasped into him when he thrust his hips up into you. Somehow he knew the exact angle that rubbed against you perfectly.

“Fuck.” You groaned, tugging on his hair to get him closer. He tilted his head up, pushing his tongue against yours.

You couldn’t think. The only thing buzzing through your brain at a million miles an hour was SamSamSamSamSam. This was better than alcohol. His taste had you floating, light as a cloud. His touch set you on fire, sparks dashing wherever he made contact.

Maybe you could give in. One last night of sex just to feel more of him. It wasn’t as if the rule was necessarily mandatory. You’d just lived by it since hearing it boasted about by your team’s former captain – the girl you’d replaced when she moved on to the national team.

No. Fuck, you didn’t want to be one of those girls that only needed a bright smile to make them forget their standards. You were better than that, more disciplined. You couldn’t throw everything away for one night of bliss.

You’d let Sam take you out on a date before you spread your legs for him.

You moaned against his shoulder at the idea, your mouth falling open against the cotton of his hoodie. He kept a grip on your hip, but his other hand splayed across your back, gently holding you close.

“Are you going to come, pretty girl?” Sam’s voice was smooth and confident, like he knew he had control over the situation despite you being on top.

“Yes,” you breathed out, airy and desperate. Your hips kept rocking, faltering a bit the closer you got to release. Sam picked up the slack, thrusting up into you steadily.

“Do it,” he growled, hand flexing against you. “Come for me.”

You weren’t looking for permission, yet the moment he gave it, you felt yourself unravel. You bit down on his hoodie, trying to keep yourself from being too loud as you came, a low, long moan that morphed into a whine dragging from your throat.

Sam grunted, pulling you closer.

Ecstasy washed over you, numb pleasure rinsing away any stress you had ever felt. You slumped against him, letting yourself just be limp for a few moments. It was quiet again, the best kind. Heavy breathing, hitching when either one of your bodies shifted, filled the space.

“Didn’t know you could get prettier,” Sam mumbled, cradling you close to him, “but, holy shit, you’re drop-dead gorgeous when you come.”

You lifted your head, looking him in the eye with a tired smile.

“I’ll let you fuck me,” you held back a laugh at the surprise that morphed over his face, “if you buy me that cup of lemonade I was promised.”

Sam gave you a goofy grin, one that should’ve told you trouble was the only thing he was going to give you.

“I’ll buy you a gallon of the stuff if that’s all it takes.”

“You’re a dog.” You pretended to be annoyed, rolling your eyes. You were used to him at this point, comfortable with him to a point that was strange when you remembered you had just met the man less than an hour ago.

“Woof woof.” He replied, slapping a sloppy kiss on your cheek. It was so casual, like you two did this all the time. You laughed softly pushing off of him just as the sliding door leading to the house slammed open.

“Are you out here, babe?”

Lissa. You could tell it was her, even with the words slurred so close together they were barely coherent. You spun on your heel, smiling at her when she stumbled around the corner.

“There you are!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms up. You held your breath when she wobbled on her heels. “It's so boring here. Time to go.”

everything taglist : @littlesoulshine @sacr1ficialang3l @blossomingorchids @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @mostlymarvelgirl @missus-ackles @tinas111 @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

sam winchester taglist : @hobiespick @xoswiftieprincess @whothefvckami

icebreaker tags: @gigiwritess

[sunsbaby]

sam was all wide eyed as he watched you climb on top of him. the hunt had gone completely south and caused him to get all bruised up; in your mind that meant it was time to take care of him.

"baby? what's all this, I'm fine really honey.." he murmured softly, his large hand sprawling against the small of your back.

yet he didn't protest when your hand came and gently tugged down his boxers. he didn't complain when you shuffled your shorts off and pulled your already soaked panties to the side—instead he stared, his free hand coming to grip your thigh, his thumb moving to rub soft circles on your clit.

the action pulled a whine from you, bucking your hips into his hand to somehow get more of the addicting pleasure.

"s-sam 'm supposed to be taking care of you.." you babbled as he added more pressure, his middle and ring finger plunging into your dripping cunt.

his tip was flushed a pink color and was leaking pre-cum, he was getting off on watching your tough and dominant act wither away as he toyed with your pretty pussy.

"shhh, it's okay sweet girl..sammy's gonna make you feel real good—" he cooed as he sped up, his fingers curling deep inside hitting that spongy spot that made you moan out his name.

"c'mon baby girl let go for me, make a mess on my fingers." he pleaded as his eyes bore into yours: the look, the pleasure, the overwhelming feelings crashed over you as you came.

his fingers were dripping with your arousal and cum, your body reacted and you whined as he slipped them out. he shushed you as he replaced his digits with his dick, bottoming out inside you as he let himself go—filling you with his warm seed.

you laid on his lap, head resting on his shoulder as he rubbed your back. sam planted soft kisses on your head as he whispered into your ear about how much he loved you, and about how well you take him. his cock stayed borrowed inside you, keeping his cum from slipping out.

just how he wanted.

sunny yaps! I've been seeing A LOT of sam edits and well he's been inside my brain because i need this man so bad.. like you don't understand, hes so BARK BARK WOOF—whatt who said that 😼

special tags! @bluemerakis @littlesoulshine @h8aaz @bruisedfig @liiiilsss @fuckedupfate @bejeweledinterludes @blossomingorchids

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

how do you think the boys yearn/deal with a crush? I’m trying to envision a dynamic between a hunter reader and the two brushing off their feelings

Oh I LOVE this question with all my heart! Thank you, anon, for sending it in! ❤️

It's kind of a shame we never got to see either of them really with crushes. Out of all the romantic scenarios the show didn't have (which is fine, not complaining at all, we wouldn't have that much amazing fan fic if it did, is my theory) them yearning/pining is the thing I would have loved to see the most.

Dean just becomes a puppy dog, I think. He's all smiley and giggly around her. Hangs on every word she says. That woman can do no wrong. Extra points if she's a bit of a trouble maker, and Dean gives her a pass on everything, which reeeeally weirds out Sam, cause he wouldn't get away with half the stuff you do!

It's only when she puts herself in real danger that Dean's super protective side comes out. He can't contain the worry, gets grumpy. He's angry at whoever hurt her, and they'll get what's coming to them, but his fear for her safety translates into a bad mood. No assurances from her side that she's fine are gonna calm him down, either - it takes hours for him to get out of that state, and at some point, when all her wounds are taken care of, he'll probably isolate himself, stew a bit. Love's great and all, but it's exhausting. He doesn't know how to make her his, and he doesn't know how to be around her when that's all he wants to do. Maybe at some point he'll try to take a step back, keep some distance. But at the first sweet smile or inside joke, he's right back where he was before.

Sam's kinda similar, except that he makes sure to keep his distance the moment he realizes there's something going on. He's seen the show too - well, he lived it - and he knows he's no good in that regard. Plus he's got better self-control than Dean. Still, he can't help being drawn in my the little things: you sharing your excitement about something you read, you getting a little cocky and playfully flirty once you've had a drink. When he reaches for something for you and passes it down, and you look up at him with that look that tells him you know he enjoyed that. But it can never be. Sam knows that.

He gets jealous as hell, but doesn't allow himself to express it. He doesn't have any right to you, he knows that. Doesn't matter how much he imagines things could be different, how much he wishes they were. He lies awake at night, one arm tucked behind his head, deep frown on his face while that big brain goes over the problem he's trying to solve again and again. There is no solution. He rolls onto his side and tries to sleep, but only dreams of you.

And I know you didn't ask for this specifically, but if they're both down bad for you? Oh man. They can read each other, know each other so well, so they immediately know what is going on . There's no way either of them is going to get in the way of his brother getting what he wants, getting something good - and you are the best there is. They'll both try to keep their distance, failing, of course, miserably. Cause how can they stay away when you make them feel so alive so good? Something's gotta give, but whether it's an unplanned kiss after surviving a life threatening situation, you taking the initiative or confronting them about acting like absolute weirdos - only time will tell.

[southernimpala]

big distraction

sam winchester x fem!reader

summary ↬ sam needs to distract you long enough for dean to decorate for your birthday, and he chooses the best way possible

notice ↬ birthday smutttt (mdni !) whoop whoop !!, promised some bday smut so here ya'll go, can't believe im 19 now eeeee, oral (f!recieving), unprotected p!v, sam is pussy drunk btw, birthday fluff !, no use of y/n, lowercase intended !

wordcount ↬ 2.5k

birthdays were never your thing. and they weren’t a hunter’s thing, either. always being on the road, never knowing if you’d even live another trip around the sun. it all seemed superficial and unnecessary to celebrate. 

so when sam and dean find out your birthday is today, you beg them to keep quiet about it. 

“no candles and cake?” dean jokes, nudging your shoulder in the booth of an old diner you were getting breakfast at, “or special birthday pancakes?” you see him point to the birthday special written in cursive letters on the sticky menu. 

“no,” you solidify, taking a warm sip of coffee, “being alive and with you idiots is enough.” 

your boyfriend, sam, who's sitting across from you forking his eggs, shakes his head but stays quiet, like he’s planning a surprise attack behind your back. 

you don’t notice him catch dean’s eye as you read over the check, or see them scouting potential places to buy party decorations while you drive to the motel—yes, you insisted to drive baby—and you certainly don’t hear them whispering to each other as you lose yourself in a book on the weirdly comfortable mattress that is probably twice your age. 

when dean comes back from an outing later that night—“just talking to potential witnesses,”—he said, totally suspiciously, you’re eyes run down his arm to him carrying inside the large duffle bag he keeps in the trunk, full of salt guns and holy water. 

you sit up straighter in your seat against the bed frame, suddenly alert, but sam makes no moves, “what’s wrong, why are you—” 

“just would rather have these closer to us,” he rushes quickly, a lopsided smile on his face, dropping the duffle like it doesn’t weigh a ton on the gross motel carpet, giving sam a ‘am i doing okay?’ look that has your brows furrowing. 

“dean, can i see you in private?” sam says through gritted teeth, nodding to the bathroom. 

dean sends him an awkward grin, nodding before they both disappear behind the off white door. in an instant, you’re pressed up against it, ear turned on the highest setting you can, trying to hear through the loud AC unit and buzz of cars outside the open window. 

although, you don’t have to listen too hard. the two of them are so loud, you wonder whether you could’ve stayed sat on the bed. 

“alright, here’s the plan, you stay here and set up—i’ll distract her.” sam’s voice. 

“why do i have to decorate? the cake’s probably smushed in the damn duffle—”

“just let me handle it, okay?” 

“i’m gonna need twenty minutes.” 

“it takes you that long to frost a cake and put up a sign—” 

“thin ice, sammy.” 

you imagine sam’s face and try to swallow a laugh, but the revelation that they’re planning a surprise for you is enough to knock your world off its axis. even though you told them not to fuss, there’s something pure about them doing this for you. something the three of you could use in the midst of the chaos of your lives. 

“how are you distracting her? gonna take her into town or something?” dean’s voice. 

“i don’t know, maybe, i—” 

“no,” 

“dean—”

“you’re not having sex in my car.” 

your face burns. 

“dean, i didn’t—” 

“i saw that look!” 

your palm comes to cover your mouth, stifling another burst of amusement. 

“let me take care of it alright? you just focus on hanging the sign up the right way.” 

you hear shoes shuffling against the bathroom tile, and you spring up quick to settle yourself back comfortably on the bed. 

the door opens and sam meets your eye, “dean thinks he left something in the car,” he says, as if you’re stupid. the inside of your cheek is shredded so you don’t smile. 

“alright,” you throw the book down onto the floral duvet beneath you, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, “shall we?” 

both boys’ faces crease in confusion at your compliance. but nonetheless, you follow sam outside as he sweeps the impala’s keys off the table. 

once outside, you find it hard to keep your hands off him, rubbing your palms up his arms as he walks you to the parking lot, anxious to surprise him. 

when sam shuts the car door, you’re on him in a second, pouncing like a cat onto his lips. he melts instantly into your taste, like every plan and course of action he thought to distract you vanishes from his mind. his large hand comes to cup your cheek, soft under his calloused touch, and you’re moaning at the sensation of his fingers tangling in your hair. 

sam pulls from you just slightly to murmur, “you beat me to it.” 

his voice, husky with desire, has you squirming in the rough leather seats, aching for his touch to cover you everywhere, and you feel giddy knowing it will, “how else am i supposed to celebrate my birthday?” 

a warm chuckle breathes past his lips, swollen and pink, “i thought you didn’t wanna celebrate it?” 

you smirk, moving to place chaste kisses along his jaw and down the veins of his neck, eliciting a sultry laugh from him that makes you never want to stop, “i think i can allow this.”

“think or know?” he teases, savoring the pleasure building in his body, fueling a fire only you know how to control, how to burn hotter. 

sam’s hands grip your waist at the sensation of your mouth trailing across his skin. with your nose buried in the crook between his shoulder, you smell the fresh soap, old lore books, and something spicy like aftershave as it fills your brain like fog. he rests his cheek on the crown of your head, reveling in your lips for another moment before he’s gently laying you down in the backseat, your legs spreading like muscle memory as he nestles between them. 

his fingers slowly hike the white sundress you’re wearing up your legs, making sure to just barely graze your thighs. wetness starts to pool in your center as he recaptures your mouth on his, heavy breaths and gasping moans as his hands trail higher up your body beginning to fill the impala. 

“will dean be mad?” you mumble against him, eyes closed in bliss as he palms one of your breasts, “—that we’re doing it in his baby?”

sam laughs mischievously, knowing damn right what the answer is but at this point, you’re both too far gone to stop, and the bulge pressed against your inner thigh, just missing where it needs to be, confirms that for you.

“he won’t mind,” he says, sighing as you start to fumble with the buttons on his shirt, revealing his taut abs and broad chest, adorned with the anti possession tattoo that has your mouth watering. 

“oh, he won’t, will he?” you help him shrug the rest of his shirt off while he un-patiently starts to tug your panties down, “pretty, right?” 

“so pretty,” he smiles, but tosses them to the side like they’re nothing but a useless barrier between him and the paradise between your legs that’s his, catching them on the steering wheel,“and no, he won’t mind.” 

before you can protest again, he’s delving into your pussy, slick and warm with your primal need for him. his tongue moves in agonizing circles up and down your folds, making you writhe and grip his soft locks in your hands to keep you grounded to earth. 

but when he sucks your clit past his lips, you’re sure you see heaven. 

“sam!” you shriek, bucking your hips into his face as his chin dampens. you feel his smirk against you, he can taste the way you fall apart, but the pressure doesn’t let up.

“mmm, taste’s so good,” he mumbles drunkenly, fingers pressing imprints into your thighs as he holds them down beside his head. 

you throw your head back against the back window, trying to ignore the little voice in your head yelling, “you’re in a motel parking lot and anyone can see you if they just—” but the white hot pleasure that explodes from your body as he flicks his tongue right there removes any thoughts other than your need to have him inside you, to give you something to clench around as you jolt and ache. 

his name falls from you like a prayer, one he answers faster than god as his pants are off and boxers pulled down before you can even open your eyes. 

you manage to get a glimpse of him as he pumps himself a few times, the length you’ve taken oh so many times now a gift that seems too perfect for such a meaningless birthday. but when he pushes into you, hot, sweaty, skin against yours, it’s hard to see how you can’t celebrate the day after this. 

“god, yes,” you moan into his ear when he leans down, chest against yours to be as low under the window as possible. 

his eyes clench shut in pleasure, “fuck, you f-feel so good,” he sputters, because all he can focus on is the way you’re squeezing him.

sam moves like he was made to fit in you, hitting that spot inside you everytime that has you see stars. even now, as he struggles against the urge to drive into you so hard your legs will need days to recover, he’s gentle, soft, as he stretches and kisses and worships. 

the impala shakes and rocks underneath you, and you’re sure if it wasn’t 9:00pm on a tuesday, you’d probably be caught by now; windows fogging and the occasional pop up of sam’s hair through the glass when he lifts up to watch himself disappear in you because he just can’t help it. he throbs at the sight and you feel it deep in your core, pressing your climax faster.

“‘mmm, best b-birthday ever—” you mumble, your words harshly cut with a whiny moan when sam’s idle fingers come to toy with your clit, “jesus christ!”

“not quite,” he gasps a laugh, “oh, fuck,” 

your vision blanks. the coil snaps. pussy squeezes so tight sam can barely move. 

and the impala seats? soaked. 

sam follows close behind, hips stuttering, soft lips parted all the way as your name slips off his tongue, dripping with the taste of you. you swallow his moan, his whine, as he fills you, still pumping through both your highs. 

your pussy leaks his warmth. you catch him staring. 

“make sure it doesn’t get on the seat!” you worry, starting to sober up. 

you can tell he isn’t all the way back to earth, so he drunkenly smiles, “i think we’re past that point, baby.” 

as you fix the straps of your dress, sam reaches behind the seat for a rag to wipe the leather, probably the cloth dean keeps in the car in case of oil spills or, well, this. 

your legs shake as you step out of the impala, suddenly feeling overexposed and like everyone in the motel was watching somehow. sam’s throws his clothes on, his princess hair barely fixed with puffed lips that match yours. 

you try to catch your breath as the wind whispers against your sticky skin, “think dean’s done decorating the room?” 

sam’s eyebrows furrow for a moment before lifting them in realization, mind blanking, “u-um, how did you—” 

“kinda hard to keep a secret when you both talk so loud,” you nudge his shoulder playfully, unusual butterflies spreading through your stomach as you anticipate the surprise waiting for you inside, “it was a good effort, though.” 

“and that’s why you—” jumped my bones, he wants to say, but he knows you know already, “i’m gonna get you,” he promises, grinning crooked at the way you outplayed them, “your next birthday, the surprise is mine.” 

“sure, sammy,” you wink, fishing the key out of his back pocket before unlocking the door. 

as if on cue, dean, who is by the bedside lamp, flicks it on to expel the darkness and reveal an unevenly hung HAPPY BIRTHDAY sign in holographic letters strung up on the wall above the beds, stuck messily with duct tape. there’s a mixtape on the duvet with birthday girl’s birthday mix written on the top, paired with a dollar store bow dean’s slapped on, and a few books stacked together that you can only assume is sam’s gift. 

the cake on the end table, with messy chocolate icing that’s also all over dean’s fingers, is what sends tears teasing your waterline.  

“surprise!” he shouts, waving his hands in the air. 

sam shakes his hand against his throat, mouthing, ‘she knows’ behind you. 

dean narrows his eyes at his brother, rolling them and throwing his arms up, “really, sam? you couldn’t even keep the surprise?” 

that forces a watery laugh out of you, cheeks flushed and heart warm, “it’s fine, it’s fine, dean, this is—” 

“awesome, right?” he finishes, that shit eating grin right back where it belongs on his scruffy face. 

“yeah,” you agree, instinctively leaning against sam’s chest, “it’s awesome.” 

sam’s hands come tight on your forearms, rubbing gently to soothe the emotions he knows you’re trying to bite back. your lip wobbles between your teeth as dean reaches for the cake. 

“maybe i could get behind none of that gross birthday special pancake crap,” he hands you the cake, which is resting on a flimsy paper plate while he fishes for the lighter in his pocket, “but no candles and cake? sweetheart, that’s just unacceptable.” 

dean reaches to switch the lamp back off, the room consumed in pitch black again, save for the moonlight emitting little light through the dingy curtains. the small, orange flame stemming from his lighter illuminates all three of your faces as he burns the tip of the pink candle, mumbling a ‘there we go’ as he flicks the lighter back off. 

“make a wish,” sam says softly as he stands behind you. 

you shut your eyes, make your wish, and blow. 

dean starts to clap. sam’s touch is grounding. 

“happy birthday, baby,” he murmurs in your ear, just for you. 

when the lights come back on, and dean uses a machete to cut the cake, he notices sam trying to fix the lopsided buttons on his shirt, that was very hastily thrown back on. 

what you didn’t realize he’s also looking at, is the medium sized hickey on sam’s neck.

“soooo,” dean starts, trying not to make his starting obvious, “i thought she was the only one supposed to get presents today.” 

sam’s forehead creases. you look up from the cake you're actively stuffing in your face. 

“what do you—” sam follows dean’s finger to the mirror, where the purple bruise you gifted him rests tenderly on his soft skin, “oh.” 

dean chuckles, shaking his head in contempt, “what kinda distraction did you give her?” 

sam’s too flustered to speak, so you swallow the smooth chocolatey goodness down your throat and answer for him. 

“a big distraction.” 

let’s just say you and sam weren’t allowed near the impala by yourselves for a long time.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ tags ↬ @h8aaz , @sacr1ficialang3l <33

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ sam winchester masterlist !

[g8taloadofdisguy]

[stargazedwinchester]

ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `still here, still waiting, sam winchester ༘♡

summary: you've finally broken up with your ex. whilst you're venting to sam about it, you realise it's been him all along. word count: 1,059 pairing: sam winchester x reader prompt: "you're still waiting for me?" you can find the prompt list here! cred to @promptsbytaurie for the idea!

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧

The beer in your hand is warm by the time you realise you’ve stopped drinking it.

Sam is sitting across from you whilst you’re venting about your breakup — pacing in the library in one of your oldest yet comfiest sweatshirts. Sam sits with one leg crossed over the other, a beer bottle also sitting comfortably in his hand. You turn around and he’s watching you like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

“Sorry. I’m rambling.” You stop mid-sentence. Sam smiles faintly at you. “It’s okay. You can ramble all you want.”

You smile back at him, sinking onto the couch next to him. “I just feel stupid. Like, how did I not see it sooner? God. Maybe I am stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” he says, his voice quieter. Softer. “Sometimes it’s easier to see the good in people than it is the bad. It’s easier that way than to admit they’re not what you need.”

After he said that, something settled in your brain. He’s right. The constant battle with yourself in your head has silenced. Sam’s not wrong, but is he just saying it to be kind?

“You always see the good in people, Sam.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I do. But I also see the truth. And you deserved better.”

Your heart twists. He’s always been kind to you, and in this moment, you start to wonder what else you’ve been too blind to see.

“You think?”

“I know you did, Y/N.”

You study him, the way his fingers curl nervously against his jeans, he shifts a little awkwardly, that shy, gentle smile sticking to his face.

Sam had been watching from the sidelines, all these months. He never said a word or crossed a line — he just kept being your friend. He always cared, more than what he let on. You’d notice, but always put it down to Sam just being… Sam. There were moments where it almost slipped, where he caught himself smiling at you for a little too long, or when you lean your head on his shoulder a little too easily. He always pulled away before it could mean something more, because you weren’t his to hope for. Not yet.

As you sit there, watching the way his thumb moves in small, absent circles over his knee, it hits you. Sam’s always been patient and quiet. He’s the one who stayed through every high and low, stayed through each sensitive moment, every time you needed a shoulder to lean on, he was there.

He always has been.

Suddenly, every memory looks different. Every laugh, every late-night conversation, it all comes into focus.

“Sam…” you say slowly, concern clouding your eyes as Sam looks at you gently. “Yeah?” He asks, running a hand through his hair. You sigh deeply, afraid of the answer he’s about to give you.

“You’re still waiting for me?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

His brows furrow. “Sorry? What for?”

“For not seeing it sooner. For not seeing you sooner.”

His demeanour changes slightly, freezing into place. “You’ve been there for me through everything. Always so kind and patient. You’ve never asked for anything in return and I hate that I didn’t see it.”

He’s quiet. His eyes just glaze over you as you figure out what to say next. “I gave my time and my heart to someone else when you were right there the whole time.”

He turns to face you, leaning his arm against the top of the sofa. “Look at me.”

You do.

“There’s nothing to regret. If this is what it took for you to see me, then I’d do it all over again.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you take his hand in yours, tangling your fingers together, squeezing his hand tight.

Sam carries on. “I just wanted you to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with me. I didn’t want to make you feel guilty.”

“I don’t feel guilty, I just—” You pause, your heart pounding. “I think I always felt it somewhere. I just wasn’t ready to see it.”

He sits there, his eyes soft and open, as if he’s telling you it’s up to you to decide. He’ll always be there, whether you want him to be or not.

You reach out, inviting him for a hug. He doesn’t hesitate, wrapping his strong arms around your back, and yours over his shoulders.

All you can do is breathe him in. Because in this moment, you feel like you’re where you need to be.

With him. With Sam.

[the-cuntessa]

"God, you are so beautiful," Sam had muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

He wouldn't let that beauty go to waste, though, especially when you came home from your date in tears. The first idea in his mind was 'make her feel better', and the second idea was lingering on all the variations of ways those words could be construed.

Obviously, you'd let him lay you down and strip you out of your stupid dress, let him kiss you and tell you how pretty you were, whisper against your skin all your praises. Sam could make anything better with only a few words and tender touches.

Except they weren't all tender. It wasn't tender when he was pistoning his hips against yours, or biting at your shoulder, marking up your skin with his big hands, leaving bruises on your hips and thighs as he made you come on his tongue, on his cock. He made you feel small, in the best way. He made you feel protected and safe, in a way that only Sam could.

If only you loved him the way he loved you.

[wendichester]

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧ page turner,

summary. you know sam through dean, who's your best friend. and dean... well... he can be a little overprotective. so you're still to tell him about you and sam. you will, promise. in the meantime, you'll have some fun with his brother right in front of his eyes.

pairing. sam winchester x reader genre. smut ( mdni )

wordcount. 732

notes / warnings. use of a remote-controlled vibrator (f!receiving), public teasing, orgasm denial, secret relationship (oh, the lies), light dom!sam, oblivious best friend!dean, lots of sexual tension, desperate!reader, light power play, language

You probably should’ve said no.

You told yourself you would—on the drive here, in the parking lot, when Sam smirked at you with that goddamn remote in his hand and said, “Just for fun.”

And now? Well. You’re sitting in a dusty library, pretending to care about folklore, and your panties are vibrating at a setting that can only be described as emotional terrorism.

Sam doesn’t even look at you. He’s across the table, all broad shoulders and biting his lip while flipping pages of some dead guy’s notes, like he’s not holding the remote in his lap under that huge freaking book.

Dean sits between you. Oblivious. Eyes narrowed at his own text, a pencil tapping against his bottom lip. His brow furrows like he’s about to uncover the secrets of the universe—or at least how to kill a banshee with a toothpick.

You’re dying. Right here, in your chair. Legs pressed together. Face blank and tight as you pretend to read the same sentence for the twelfth time while your underwear buzzes like it’s trying to send a distress signal.

Sam cranks it up.

Your breath catches.

You nearly choke on your own spit and throw in a cough to cover it. Dean glances over, brow raised. “You good?”

“Mm-hm,” you squeak. Sam, that evil bastard, fakes concern. “You sure? You look kinda flushed.”

“I’m fine,” you hiss, gripping the table so hard your nails dig into the wood. Your thighs are clenched like a vice, and your pulse is skipping beats, and Sam is enjoying every second.

He finally meets your eyes. And you want to slap him. Or sit on his face. Possibly both.

Dean stands with a sigh. “Gonna grab coffee. Either of you want—?”

“No,” you both say way too fast.

Dean frowns. Shrugs. “Alright, be back in a few.” The moment the door swings shut behind him, everything changes.

Sam leans forward, and that goddamn smirk could undress you. “You’re soaked, aren’t you?”

You glare. Your voice is a rasp. “Sam.”

“What?” He whispers like you’re not about to commit murder. “You said you wanted something different.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to cum next to your brother in a haunted library!”

His eyes darken, his smile growing in slow-motion sin. “You didn’t say no, either.”

He dials the setting down this time. Just a little. The relief is so sharp you whimper without meaning to.

Sam’s foot brushes yours under the table. “You like being teased in public. Don’t lie.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

You do. You really do. Even if he’s a smug, unfair, impossibly hot little shit who knows exactly how to push your buttons—figuratively and literally.

He presses the remote again. The pulse switches. It’s stronger now, deeper. You suck in a breath, nearly drop your pen, and slap a hand over your mouth.

Sam groans under his breath, eyes raking over you like he could crawl across the table and take you apart piece by piece. “You’re squeezing your thighs right now, aren’t you? Bet you’re dripping.”

Your brain’s melting. Full-body overheating. Your nipples are hard, and your whole body is one live wire, and if he doesn’t let you cum—

“Please,” you whisper.

“What was that?”

You close your eyes. “Please. Sam. Please let me—”

“Not yet.”

“Sam—”

He turns it off.

You go boneless in your seat like a puppet with cut strings. Every nerve in your body is screaming, and your clit is throbbing, and your face is a furnace.

“You can wait a little longer,” he says, calm as the dead, like he didn’t just ruin your entire soul.

Your jaw drops. “You’re evil.”

He grins. “You’ll thank me later.”

The door creaks open. Dean strolls back in with two coffees. “Man, that guy at the counter was slower than molasses,” he mutters, sitting back down. “You two figure anything out?”

You stare at your book. “Nope.”

Sam flips a page. “Still working on it.”

Dean hands you a cup. “You okay? You look like you ran a mile.”

“I’m fine,” you grit through your teeth, sipping scalding coffee and wishing it would burn your dirty thoughts into ash.

Dean shrugs. “Alright. Well, keep looking. We’ve got a ghost to gank and a motel to check into.”

You blink. Sam smirks.

Motel. He mouths the word like a promise.

And oh, you’re so screwed.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[saintfaux]

[wvffles]

awww 😭 i’m glad they eventually found some semblance of peace with each other. 💗💗🥺

getting closure after so long (on both of their ends) must’ve felt like a weight lifted off their shoulders, i’m glad they got a calm reunion and the chance to talk. by the water and a sunset too !! it was so sweet :(💖

i’ll definitely be rereading this series <333:’) so good !!!🫶🏽

after everything ── . ✶ s. winchester

summary: reunions, explanations, reconciliations, and hope for the future 

pairings: sam winchester x fem! reader, prev samjess x reader, prev samjessノ wc: 4.0k warnings: pt. 3/3, no use of 'y/n', switching povs/omniscient narrator, angst, mentions of jess's death, eventual fluff, a bittersweet/happy ending, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own a/n: wahhh its over guys T-T i had so much fun writing this for you guys and i can't believe its over!! trust i have some other multi-chapter fics lined up for the summer and ofc other one-shots but for right now enjoy the last part of the after series!! the after series masterlist

SAM WOULDN’T ADMIT IT, BUT HE WAS TIRED. 

Tired of what exactly? He could give you a laundry list that was as long as his forearm. The exhaustion that swept over him was all too familiar—it was permanently etched into his bones like the angel warding Cas had done so long ago. 

Sam rubbed his face as he hunched over his laptop at the table in the motel. It was one of the nicer ones that he and Dean had stayed in lately. The decor was simple: standard wooden nightstands, lamps on either one, an art print hanging between the beds, and the wallpaper was a simple cream color. 

Sam was pleasantly surprised when he entered the room and looked at Dean for an explanation.  

Dean shrugged. “Wanted to stay in a place where the smell of cigarette smoke wasn’t permanently ingrained in the room.”  

Sam just nodded his head, and after setting up the warding in the room, he promptly sank into the queen-sized mattress and slept. 

The hunt was a simple one, just a vengeful spirit that awoke because people were renovating their old house. The previous owner had died in that house, so he didn’t take it too kindly to his home being destroyed. It was an open-and-shut case, leaving the Winchesters in a small town in Washington for an extra couple of days. 

“We should take a break here.” Dean said as they were in the Impala, heading back from salting and burning the corpse of the old house owner. 

“A break?” Sam asked. 

Dean nodded. “Why not? We’re a couple miles from Seattle. We can spend a couple of days there before heading back to the bunker.” 

Sam studied Dean with a raised brow. He could see the same exhaustion mirrored in his older brother’s features. Sam swallowed thickly before dragging his eyes away from Dean. 

“Sure, why not. I could use a few days off.” Sam said before pulling out his phone and starting to research things to do in Seattle. 

Once they made it to Seattle, Dean splurged on another motel, and it felt strange to Sam that he was in a city with his brother but not working on a hunt. So here he was, only two days into staying in Seattle, and he was researching for another hunt. But there was nothing out of the ordinary that caught his attention, making him breathe out a harsh breath as he leaned back in his chair. 

Dean was out with the Impala, checking out the pop culture museum. It was a shock to Sam that Dean would willingly go to a museum on his own, but considering it was the pop culture museum, it made a whole lot of sense that Dean would want to go. 

Sam shut his laptop and got up from his seat. The room felt too small for him right now. He grabbed his tan jacket, wallet, and motel key—feeling the coastal spring breeze on his cheeks as he exited the motel room. Shoving his hands in his jacket, Sam started to walk further into the city, passing by the different shops and restaurants that Seattle had to offer. 

It was a sunny day in Seattle, which was rare for the city, but spring was coming to a close, and summer was rapidly approaching. 

A cafe sign caught Sam’s eye. It was a hole-in-the-wall place, but through the shop window, Sam could see the rustic and vintage decor that was hung up throughout the place. 

They would have loved this place. Sam thought wistfully as he stared into the coffee shop. Before he knew it, his hand was on the handle of the door. When he opened the door, the small bell above the door rang, alerting the baristas of a potential new customer. 

The scent of roasted coffee beans washed over Sam as he stepped up to the counter. The cafe wasn’t too busy—customers of all ages were scattered through the floor plan of the place, most working in the quiet atmosphere of the shop, save for the music playing overhead and the sounds of the coffee beans being ground or drinks being made. 

“Hi! What can I get you?” The barista greeted Sam at the register. 

Sam sent them a polite smile. “Could I get a regular black coffee, hot?” 

“Is that all for you today?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, could I get a name for the order? And that’ll be $5 flat.” 

Sam gave them a ten-dollar bill. “Sam. Keep the change.” 

“Thank you. Your order will be out soon.” 

Sam nodded at the barista, turned around from the counter, took a few steps, and let his eyes scan the shop for an empty seat. He froze when his eyes landed on a familiar figure. You were sitting by one of the big bay windows by the front of the shop. You were writing furiously in a journal while your laptop was open in front of you. 

Sam’s breath caught in his throat as he was transported back to the week after Jess died. 

Sam ignored his phone for the fifth time today, and Dean was getting annoyed with the constant buzzing and ringing from it. 

“Dude, answer your damn phone already.” Dean grumbled as he sat at the table, cleaning his gun. 

Sam’s face screwed up at Dean, rolling his eyes before he pressed the ignore button on his phone. He couldn’t bear to look at you right now, not after Jess. His eyes were focused on his laptop as the sound of his keyboard clicking filled in the near silent room. 

“Who’s calling you anyways?” Dean spoke up again, clearly curious as to who was calling you for the fifth time in a row. 

“No one.” Sam grumbled. “It’s probably a spam caller.” 

“A spam caller is calling you five times in a row with no rest in between?” 

“Dean. Drop it.” Sam’s tone was harsh. Sam didn’t want to explain the entire situation that you, him, and Jess had established not even a month ago. Sam stared hard at the screen in front of him. How could everything go so wrong so quickly? He had his partners by his side and was supposed to be interviewing for law school and continuing his life away from the nightmare he fought so hard to get away from. 

Sam’s phone started to ring again. He audibly groaned, ignoring the pointed look Dean sent him, and finally answered his phone. 

“You better open that door Winchester.” Your harsh voice echoed through the receiver, your words cutting off any greeting that Sam had for you. 

His eyes widened in confusion, but he followed your instructions. Sam got up from his seat and went to the motel door. He opened the door and was met by your red-rimmed eyes filled with anger and worry as you held your phone up to your ear. 

Your eyes softened slightly at the sight of Sam but hardened again as you hung up your phone. “You better have a damn good reason why you’ve been avoiding my calls for the past couple of days.” 

Sam went to open his mouth to respond, but you quickly shoved your way inside of the motel room. Sam exclaimed your name, trying to grab you before you could make it even further into the room, but you were too quick for him. 

Your eyes met green ones filled with confusion and intrigue. Your eyes quickly gave the guy sitting at the table a once over, noting the gun in his hands before it clicked in your mind who this was. 

“How did you find me?” Sam asked, his tone betraying the uneasiness that was building in his gut. 

“Brady told me where you were.” You had never really liked Brady—you always got a weird feeling in your stomach whenever you hung out with him with the rest of the friend group. But Brady was your last resort since no one else knew where he was. Hell, you found out about the apartment fire because of him. 

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. “I never told Brady where I was.” 

You paused for a second before shaking your head. “Well, I really don’t care how he knew, I’m just thankful that he did know and told me because did you really think I wasn’t going to come looking for you, after everything that just happened?”  

Sam let out a breath. Of course, he knew that you were going to look for him. A large part of him was glad that you weren’t in the apartment that night with Jess. His entire world would have collapsed if you were. Now, a small part of him hates that he has to figure out how to get you off of his back so he can leave. 

“Of course not.” 

“Then why dodge my calls?” 

“Because I’m leaving.” 

Silence filled the room. 

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly. 

Dean looked at this scene with bated breath. He had no idea who you were, but it was clear to him that you were important to Sam—Dean just didn’t know how.

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. “After what happened,” Sam paused, shaking his head and looking away from you—his eyes focused on the wallpaper of the room, “I can’t be here anymore.” 

“You’re not staying for the funeral? Your words came out breathless, shaky. You could feel your eyelids start to burn. 

Sam said nothing, jaw clenched as he nodded. 

You shook your head, a scoff escaping your lips. “Do you think running away is going to help with the gaping hole in your chest?” 

Sam wanted to tell you everything, how monsters exist, how Jess’s death wasn’t an accident, and how he was going to go and kill the thing that killed her. 

“I’m just taking a page out of your book.” He was clearly referring to the fact that you avoided them for almost two weeks earlier this month. 

“That was different and you know that.” You hissed through your teeth, poking your finger into his chest. 

Sam grabbed your wrist as your name fell from his lips with a gentle whisper. “I know. But it hurts so much, I have to go.” 

“Do you have to?” Without me? The unadded question filled the widening gap between you and Sam. 

Sam looked at you with a sad smile. It’s one of his smiles you’ve never seen before. Half of his lips pulled up reproachfully as he looked down at you, your hand still on his chest as he loosely grips your wrist. 

You saw the resolution in his eyes, and you knew there was no chance of convincing Sam to stay. You had a feeling there was more to him than just wanting to up and leave with his brother. 

“Just–” You bit your bottom lip, “Remember to call, okay?” 

“I will.” 

You nodded, and before you could second guess yourself, you pulled Sam into a tight hug. You tucked your face into his neck and tried to commit his scent to memory—the pit in your stomach told you it would be a while until you’d see him again. Sam shoved his face into your hair, tears starting to well up in his eyes at the smell of Jess’s shampoo. You must have used it recently, he thought and was tempted to stop by your apartment when you weren’t there to steal it. 

You pulled away from him, squeezing his hand three times before leaving the room without another word exchanged between the two of you. 

Sam squeezed his eyes shut before scrubbing a hand down his face. It’s for the better, Sam thought. You didn’t need to be pulled into this world, and Sam could not stand the thought of you getting hurt if you knew about what actually lurks in the dark. 

“She was hot.” Dean stated, breaking the silence after you had left the room.

“Fuck off.” Sam practically snarled as he glared at Dean—the despair he was feeling quickly turned into fury. Sam did not want to hear Dean objectify his ex-partner now or ever.  

Dean just put his hands up in surrender, unaccustomed to the type of fury that was behind Sam’s gaze. 

Sam was brought back to the present when you finally tore your eyes away from your page and met his. Confusion filled your gaze before it bled into recognition as Sam saw your eyes flick up and down his figure, and he found he did the same to you. 

You looked beautiful. You grew even more into your features, but your eyes still held the same spark that Sam could recognize from a mile away. A slight smile grew on your face as you waved him over and gestured to the empty seat in front of you. 

“Black coffee for Sam!” A voice exclaimed into the cafe. 

Sam looked sheepish as he pointed at the pickup area for his drink. You nodded and gave him a thumbs-up in response.  

Once Sam picked up his drink, he felt the world slow down with each step he took towards you. His heart rate picked up as he neared your table. The sun shined through the bay windows, illuminating your features and giving you an almost ethereal glow to your skin. 

Sam set down his coffee on the table before sitting down in front of you. “Hey.” He breathed out, nerves crawling throughout his skin. 

You smiled at him. “Hi Sam. It’s been a while.” 

An awkward smile pulled at his lips. “Yeah, it has.” 

“What brings you to Seattle?” You asked with a tilt of your head. Your journal was closed as you rested your head on your hand, looking at him intently. 

Sam tried not to squirm under your gaze. “Just visiting for a couple of days.” 

You nodded. A silence settled between the two of you. You took a sip of your lukewarm drink that was sitting idle right next to your laptop. 

It felt surreal to Sam, sitting right in front of you after all of these years. Sam's eyes were drawn to your hands that were wrapped around your cup—instinctively looking at your left hand. A weight he didn’t know he had lifted from his chest at the fact that your left hand was bare, but the thought that you could still have someone waiting for you made Sam feel strange. He knows that he has no claim over you, not after leaving Stanford the way that he did. 

Sam was looking at you so intently that he missed the fact you were speaking to him. He blinked once, seeing the amused smirk on your face—it was all too familiar, that smile. It was the same one you would get before teasing him. 

“Sorry I didn’t catch that.” He said with a sheepish smile on his lips. 

“I could tell,” You let out a small chuckle. “But I was asking if you wanted to go to this museum nearby? It’s like a ten minute walk from here.”

Sam nodded before grimacing slightly. “It’s not the Pop Culture museum is it?”  

You shook your head. “No. It’s a regular art museum. Although, I am tempted to take you to it now.” 

Sam let out a small laugh. “Please don’t. It’s the only time where I’m not stuck to Dean’s side for the day.” 

“You’re here with your brother?” You were a little surprised to hear that he was still traveling around with his brother. 

“Yeah, he has the car so I’ve been walking around today.” 

“I could’ve guessed that myself. Do you want to go to the museum or do you have other obligations right now?” You asked, starting to pack up your things. 

“I’ll go.” Sam said with a small smile. “The only thing on my agenda today was to walk around the city aimlessly.” 

“Well, let me lead the way for you.” You had finished packing your stuff up, and Sam got up from his seat at the same time you did. You led him out of the cafe where the two of you were and toward the museum. 

The two of you made small talk along the way, making the walk feel much shorter than it actually was, and once you were in the museum, the two of you barely talked. You guys walked through each exhibit in pleasant silence—re-familiarizing yourselves with each other's presence as hands brushed against each other in soft caresses as you walked or stared at each piece of artwork the two of you admired. 

While neither you nor Sam said this thought aloud, but both of you thought this was nice, reconnecting with each other—but silently wishing that you were with each other after all this time, that even though there was a missing piece in Jess, you and Sam still fit together all the same. 

After you and Sam made your way through all of the exhibits, the two of you shared a quick lunch at the diner across the street from the museum, chatting with each other quietly over your food. You guys spent a lot of time talking after your food was done, but you wanted to take him to the waterfront before the sunset. So you did, and the two of you sat on a bench, looking out into the calm waters. 

Sam tore his gaze away from the sight in front of him and looked at you instead. The orange hues of the slowly setting sun were reflecting in your eyes and bathing you in the warm light.  

“You never called.” Your calm tone broke the silence. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You looked away from the waters to find a forlorn expression etched into Sam’s features. You stared at him for a second. He looked…tired. His shoulders were sagging like there was a weight tugging at them, and his hazel gaze told you that though the weight was seemingly invisible—it clearly affected him in more ways than one. 

“I’m sorry about everything. For Jess’s death, for leaving…” Sam trailed off, looking away from you and closing his eyes shut. For potentially putting you in danger, for starting the apocalypse, the list went on and on for Sam. 

You grabbed the hand that was closest to you, making his eyes open, and looked at you. “Look, I’ll be honest, I was mad at you for the longest time about how you left. How you didn’t bother going to her funeral and how you didn’t call. But I don’t blame you for leaving now. You were just coping with it differently.” 

Sam pursed his lips. “Really?” 

“Yeah. Besides, I can’t take credit for those last bits. That was mostly my therapist’s advice.” You couldn’t help the slight smirk that pulled at the edges of your lips. 

Sam mirrored your smirk. “They seem like a smart person.” 

“She is, and well, I pay her a lot to hear about my issues.” 

Sam shook his head with a growing smile. Your sense of humor hadn’t changed a bit since he last saw you. 

“Jess’s death wasn’t an accident.” Sam blurted out, making both of your smiles fade at his words. 

You looked away from Sam, squeezing his hand. “I had a feeling, but I could never prove that it was.” 

You looked back at Sam, and while the look in his eye said everything to you, he knew what had happened that night. 

Sam took a deep breath and explained everything. From his childhood to what happened when his brother broke into his apartment to what happened to Jess, he summarized how crazy his life had been until today. Sam had talked so much that the sun was low below the horizon, and the dim lights on the waterfront illuminated your surroundings. You listened to him with a rapt gaze, hanging on to his words. 

Sam was afraid that you wouldn’t take him seriously, that he was crazy, and that you would never want to see him again after tonight. When he was finished talking, Sam looked at you finally, anticipating seeing skepticism in your eyes but saw acceptance in them instead. 

“You believe me?” Sam asked after seeing the look in your eyes. 

“I’d have to be crazy not to.” You saw nothing but the truth in Sam’s hazel gaze as he spoke. 

Sam didn’t think before replying. “You are crazy if you do.”

A surprised laugh escaped you. “What does that make you then?” 

“Someone who’s grown up with this kind of stuff so it’s my normal.” 

“Ah.” You nodded. “So crazier than me? You know because you grew up knowing that monsters existed.” 

“Well, when you put it like that…” 

Another laugh left your lips, and Sam couldn’t help but smile at the sound. 

“I can’t believe you actually believe me.” 

You sighed. “Look, I came to terms with Jess’s death a lot more recently than I’d like to admit. But with the whole monster and demon stuff, it makes a whole lot more sense when trying to find closure and people tell you it was a freak accident.” 

Sam nodded in understanding, scooting closer to you on the bench and squeezing your hand. “I still think about her. And you.” 

“Same.” You whispered. “I don’t think there’s a day that I don’t think about the what ifs. How our lives would look if she didn’t die.” You admitted. 

“Same here.” Sam sent you a sad smile filled with understanding. He took his free hand and gently cupped your cheek. 

You couldn’t help but lean into his warmth. Sam’s eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips as he leaned down, bringing his face closer to yours and resting his forehead on yours, making your eyes flutter shut at the contact. 

“I missed you.” You whispered in the dwindling space between the two of you. 

“I missed you too.” Sam responded before placing his lips on yours, pulling you into a tender kiss. 

Sam’s lips felt like coming home. God, you had forgotten how the warm feeling in your chest spread throughout your body every time you kissed Sam. It was intoxicating to feel his lips on yours again. It also had a bittersweet nature to the reunion of your kiss. 

It was unspoken the promise Sam poured into the kiss. Promises of keeping you safe, the promise of the potential of something new with you. It scared him, but as he sunk into the kiss, the feeling of warmth, the one so familiar with home, was with you—and he doesn’t know if he can part ways with you for good. So, he won’t. For the first time in his life, the weight has lifted. Only slightly, but it feels a whole lot bearable to have you here with him. 

You guys pulled apart slowly, breaking the kiss. You guys breathed each other in as your foreheads rested against each other. You opened your mouth to say something, but a stomach growling interrupted you instead. 

Both of you chuckled as you pulled away from each other. You sat up from the bench, Sam’s hands falling away from you as you did. 

You extended a hand out to him. “Come on, I know a few spots around here for dinner.” 

“Lead the way.” Sam said he grabbed your hand and got up from the bench.

Sam let you lead him down the waterfront, continuing from the page that the two of you had left on and into a new story—one with a happier ending.