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ohsc · 6 months ago

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₊˚⊹♡ mean | sam winchester x reader

requested - heyy could u make a sam x reader thing where he fucks rlly roughly but he’s really sweet during aftercare bc the idea that sam is rough during but sweet after makes me weak in the knees🫠🙏 (anon)

a/n - this is. probably the most filthy thing i’ve written. it’s just filthy smut. with a hint of sweetheart sam at the end. i need him so bad it’s not funny. still working on my longer plot fics but i wanted to get this out today to get back into writing!! hopefully you enjoy :) would very much appreciate feedback! <3

cws - fem!reader, 2.4k, nsfw 18+, meandom!sam turned soft!sam, oral f!recieving, praise, very mild choking, condescending words, p in v, mild overstimulation, tears, aftercare, fluff

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

She was convinced that Sam’s mouth was a whole new kind of heaven.

He’d already made her cum once with his mouth alone, large hands pressed into the plush of her thighs to keep them spread, her hips stilled, which were twitching with every sweep of his tongue. He was skilled, drawing the pleasure out of her like it was nothing. Sam had easily spent fifteen minutes down there, eating her out like a starved man, like it was all he wanted.

And she didn’t know how she was still breathing. There was a relief that ran through her that Dean and Castiel weren’t in the bunker that night, because even though they were shut away in the privacy of their room, she was sure that she would’ve been heard. Sam had been pulling noises out of her all night, obscene lewd sounds that she would’ve been embarrassed about being heard if it wasn’t Sam with her.

He always made sure that as much as he made her feel, none of it was embarrassment.

His tongue flattened against her, licking a stripe up between her folds until he pressed against her clit and she shuddered, a horribly whiny sound pushed from her lungs when he closed his lips around the bead and sucked, like he was trying to pull the life out of her. Her hips jolted, unable to go anywhere as he had her pinned down, and she was practically seeing stars as Sam worked down there. She wondered if he was even breathing.

“Sam- oh my god—” She whimpered, hissed in a breath when he licked back down to her entrance and his nose nudged against her clit, stomach clenching as she reached her hands down to grasp onto his hair, fingers curled into the soft strands.

And then he pulled away.

His hands left her thighs as his mouth left her, but she didn’t have time to whine her complaints at the loss of sensation as his long fingers curled around her wrists, yanked her hands out of his hair. “What did I say, huh?” The tone of voice made her pussy clench around nothing. “Hands to yourself. You’re pretty bad at listening, baby.”

Sam shifted over her, his face over hers as he pushed her wrists down onto the pillows above her head, and she almost squirmed when she saw the look in his eyes, the way his lips were wet with her.

“Are you listening?” He squeezed her wrists as a reminder, and her eyes quickly flickered back up to his eyes. “Do I need to tie you up, or will you keep these here for me?” She knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do it. Sam could be such a soft lover — he’d kiss every inch of her skin, whisper praises and compliments, tell her he loved her a thousand times as he made love to her. But he could also be like this, mean and demanding as he fucked her silly over and over. She wasn’t sure which she liked more.

“I’ll keep them there.” She breathed out, her voice still a little too whiny. He’d gotten her so close to cumming again, the lack of stimulation was driving her crazy, her cunt throbbed as she stared up at him.

“Oh yeah?” Sam narrowed his eyes like he didn’t believe her, and let go of one of her wrists to take both into one of his large hands. Her eyes left his face to follow his second as it dipped down between them, fingering at the waistband of his boxers, until she heard a sharp, “eyes on me.”

Her gaze quickly flickered back up to his face. “See? You can be good sometimes, can’t you?” Sam cooed, boardering on condescending, as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her mouth, allowing her to taste herself. “You just need some reminding, don’t you, sweetheart? Get so lost in that pretty little head of yours when I’m making you feel so good.”

She’d been so distracted by watching his face, head spinning with his words, that she didn’t realise that he’d freed himself from his boxers until she felt the head of his cock nudging between her folds, gliding easily against her with the slick and spit collected there, and she mewled at the feeling, eyes squeezed shut as he nudged at her clit.

“Eyes open,” his hands left her wrists — which she knew now to keep still — and his fingers splayed across her jaw, squeezing unkindly until she looked up again. “Don’t make me tell you again. You wanna be good for me, don’t you?”

She nodded dumbly, sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth as he rubbed her clit with his cock. Teasing her. “Mhm, I will.”

“You will?” Sam gave her jaw one more squeeze, just for good measure, before he wrapped his fingers around the bare skin of her throat. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t put any pressure, just held her, but the threat was there. The head of his cock rested up against her slickened entrance as his head dipped down, lips brushed her ear as he whispered, “what’s your colour?”

They had a pretty rigid safe word system set out — it was something he went over with her every time they had sex, especially like this, when he was mean and grabby and knew that she wouldn’t like it every time. If she so much whispered the word red he’d be up and off of her before she could blink.

But all that left her words was a whiny, “Green, please Sammy.”

She felt his lips curve up against her ear as he smirked. “Good girl.”

Without warning he pushed into her and she sucked in a sharp breath, her own fingers grabbed at each other in an attempt to keep her hands still, and she shoved a breath out of her throat. He’d worked her open with his fingers when he’d been settled down between her legs, but she still felt the stretch, the burn as he settled his cock deep inside of her, and for a moment she had to remember to breathe back in.

“Fuck honey,” he grunted in her ear, fingers gripped her throat just slightly tighter, still only enough for her to feel pressure. “So tight for me, baby. Can barely take it, huh?”

He pulled back before he rutted back inside and she whimpered, squeezing her own fingers together so tightly so she didn’t break his rule. Needing to hold onto him somehow, though, her thighs clamped harshly around his hips, already trembly from the first orgasm he’d pulled from her.

He thrust in again, and again, and again, and soon she saw stars, gasping and whimpering with every drag of his cock against her gummy walls, pleasure rippling through her in waves that made her stomach clench, her cunt clamped down so tightly around him it was a wonder he could move at all.

“So noisy baby,” he crooned on a particular harsh thrust that made her whine, fingers a little tighter around her throat. “Can’t help yourself, can you?” He huffed with another thrust. “Need me to do all the work, hm? Greedy—” he grunted, “greedy girl.”

It took an embarrassingly short time for her to get close again. Sam was fucking her with determination, grunted every time he pushed himself back in, the head of his cock nudged the soft spongey spot inside of her that made her shudder again and again and again until she was a mess beneath him, lewd wet sounds accompanying her whimpers with each shift of his hips, her pussy fluttering around the stretch of his girth.

He didn’t slow down, didn’t ease up, didn’t give her a breather. She was close to tears by the time she was almost there, already sensitive from her first orgasm.

She clenched around him and his fingers, in turn, tightened on the sides of her throat. She trusted him, she knew he wouldn’t push it too far. Just enough for her to feel a little dizzy, for the bliss to wash over her like a high.

“Sam- mm- Sammy—” She was practically blabbering as her eyes filled with tears, gasping with each thrust, each smack of his hips against hers.

“Oh honey,” he cooed, condescending, mean. “Too much, hm? Need something?”

His hand loosened on her throat and she inhaled a little shakily.

“Please—” she whined, blinking through tears up at him. She didn’t miss the flicker in his eyes as the tears dribbled down her cheeks, but she knew that he knew she’d tell him if it was too much. It had happened before, neither of them messed around when it came to their safe words.

“Please what, huh?” He thrust in harshly and she groaned, cunt fluttering, so close— “Ah-ah, not yet. Don’t you need to ask me something, dolly?” He squeezed her throat once. “You remember what happens if you cum without asking, don’t you?”

Of course she did. The week prior she’d cum too soon, and he spent the next what felt like hours edging her, too skilled with his fingers, words too filthy that they made her head spin. He’d made such a mess of her that she hadn’t been able to even get up off of the bed for a little while after he finally let her cum.

“Mhm, mm, yeah—” she inhaled shakily, whining, thighs clamped tighter around his hips. “Please- please can I- please let me—” she groaned.

“Let you what?” He was dragging it out, the fucker, grunting into her ear as he leaned down over her, pushed his cock so deep her vision almost whitened out. “Tell me, honey. Use those words for me, c’mon.”

The tears were bubbling over faster, rolling down her flushed cheeks. “Let me cum, baby, please.”

“Asking so nicely,” he grunted, pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear. “How can I say no to something so pretty, hm? ‘Course you can, baby, go ahead.”

It wasn’t his words that did it for her, but the hand that snuck between them and pressed down on her stomach, the press of his cock suddenly so much more delicious that she almost fucking fainted.

She came with a breathless whine, hips jerked as she finally gasped a breath and whined again, her cunt throbbed around his cock as he kept pumping, rode her through it entirely. Her head tipped back, his mouth on her neck as her eyes squeezed shut, colours danced on the inside of her eyelids, her own little fireworks display.

Sam came shortly after, groaned into her ear in a way that almost made her cum again, and he rutted into her a few more times before he stopped, warmth spreading through her as he panted against her shoulder.

“Fuck,” he huffed, his own chest heaved, brushing against her bare skin. “Oh sweetheart.” The shift in his demeanour was palpable, soft kisses immediately littered across her shoulder and collarbone, palms flattened to smooth over her sweat-dampened skin. He could be so mean in the moment, so dominating and controlling that he left her a fucking mess underneath him, but afterwards? He’d probably feed her grapes and fan her if she asked him to.

She was still gasping for breath, head spinning, and when she knew she wouldn’t be told off for it her hands lifted, immediately clung to his warm shoulders. She loved the way his shoulders felt underneath her touch, muscles rippling with every movement.

Sam kissed up her throat and jaw before he landed on her mouth, and he kissed her slowly, huffed breaths into each other's mouths as he licked between her lips, sweeped behind her top teeth, their lips both wet with spit.

By the time he had pulled away, he’d so thoroughly kissed her that she almost had her breath back.

“You okay?” His voice was so soft it was like there was an entirely different person on top of her compared to five minutes prior. His hand left her throat, smoothed upwards and cupped her jaw. She felt him thumb away tears that had fallen, some clung to her eyelashes, somewhat cool against her hot and flushed skin.

She nodded as she stroked her fingertips along his shoulders with her fingertips, like she’d committed him to memory. She had.

“Hey,” he lightly tapped her cheekbone with his thumb. “Need words, honey.”

She couldn’t help her smile. He was so caring she sometimes wanted to cry. “M’okay,” she whispered, voice soft like she’d shared a secret. “Really good. You’re so good, Sammy.” She praised, tilted her head to kiss his wrist, and he smiled and blushed like he hadn’t just been the one to fuck the life out of her.

“Says you,” Sam leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You’re perfect. Love you,” another kiss. “Love you so much.”

She smiled so much her cheeks hurt. “Love you too.”

Sam smiled too, that soft smile that made his dimples peek out, eyes crinkled at the corners, and he stroked her cheekbone again. “M’gonna pull out, okay?”

Only when she nodded did he shift, slowly pulled his hips back until she was empty, until all she could feel was the wetness coated between her thighs.

“Christ, made a mess of you,” he murmured, not in the condescending tone from before, instead something closer to admiration. “You’re so pretty when you cum, y’know that?”

She blushed, hard, and shrugged as her cheek dipped to meet her shoulder.

Sam laughed, rolled his eyes as he leaned in and kissed her again. “Don’t get all shy on me now.”

She was still blushing when he helped her sit up, fingers delicately curled around her elbows to pull her upright, her back also damp with sweat. They’d need to change the sheets.

“Two options,” Sam murmured as he gently stroked hair away that was stuck to her forehead, baby hairs that clung to her temples. “We take a shower and let me wash your hair and then go get food, or you let me run you a bath and you wait there looking all pretty for me while I get you something we can eat in there so I can dote on you.”

“You just wanna wash my hair huh?”

Sam smiled. “Guilty.”

Her fingers found his, intertwined with a squeeze. “Bath sounds nice,” she eventually settled on. “As long as you don’t take too long in the kitchen. I’ll miss you.”

He was laughing when he pressed another kiss to her mouth. “Of course. Promise to not take too long, okay?”

She giggled and nodded, smiled against his mouth when he kissed her again. “Okay.”

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester smut #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfiction #spn #spn x reader #spn one shot #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural one shot

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prentissluvr · 7 months ago

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three seconds — sam winchester

for : 200+ followers event [ closed ] ➖⟢ pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : fluff ➖⟢ cw : light swearing, accidental cuddling, casual mention of marriage between sam and reader (it's just dean teasing tho lol), idiots friends to lovers, kissing, barely edited ➖⟢ wc : 1.2K prompt : sleeping in the same bed, as they’d often do, but one morning waking up cuddling

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

to be truthful, this isn’t the first time you’ve woken up with yours and sam’s limbs entangled with each other’s. it’s just far less common for his hand to be so gloriously attached to your waist or his face to be tucked all sweet and warm into your neck. your own hands are placed in his hair and on his broad shoulder blade.

waking up like this is heaven; first, in the moments before you can process exactly what is happening, and second, once you realize and can bask in the splendor of having him so intimately close and vulnerable with you. then it comes crashing down as you remember that this isn’t quite how it’s supposed to be, and that you’ll never, not for a moment, be able to get this feeling out of your head, your body.

which means every moment after you untangle yourself from him will be full of a pure, undying, taunting want, maybe even need, to have him like that again. such a feeling is a general inconvenience as one considers that sam is your best friend, that he and his brother are just about all you have, and that you’d rather die than lose them to the fact that you’re in love with him. so clearly, it’s better he never knows, it’s just that constantly thinking about cuddling with him tends to lead to you making heart eyes at him or your cheeks flushing hot when he looks at you a moment too long.

then there’s the realization that sam is still asleep, the steady rhythm of his breath tickling your neck is both comforting and terrifying all at once. what if he wakes and jerks away, uncomfortable with your proximity? should you push him away before he even realizes the position you’re in? it’s not as if sam doesn’t enjoy physical affection; he pretends he doesn’t, but you’re convinced that he’s a cuddlebug at heart. maybe that’s an overly cute way of putting it, but you can feel how much he loves hugs, how much he enjoys having his head in your lap when you get a rare movie night. you’re just worried that this is too much, too close for even him.

and yet, you’re feeling selfish, because what if you never get him like this again? so you close your eyes again and just revel in the way it feels to have the tip of his nose pressed to your neck and his forehead against your jaw. his hands on you, so steady and sure in his sleep. his hair, soft between your fingers and the muscle of his back under your palm. his leg, tucked between yours. just the weight of him, pressed against you all solid and real and almost immovable until he wakes.

you hear dean stir a few feet away and you pray he won’t be able to tell you’re not asleep. breath even and eyes still gently closed, you hear dean move about, mumbling to himself. he’s digging around in a bag, pulling something out. then you feel him move closer and you swear he’s hovering at the foot of the bed.

then you hear a click, like that of a camera shutter, and you realize dean’s taken a picture of the two of you like this. pictures of the three of you are rarer, and dean being the one to take it means it’s special. you suppose blackmail is special in its own way and beg to no one that dean didn’t hear your breath hitch as you realize this moment is now immortalized by a picture that dean’ll print out someday and shove in your faces to make fun.

then dean’s mumbling to himself again, now close and loud enough for you to make out his words. “these two,” he sighs, tone practically chastising as if he sees something glaringly obvious, but the both of you can’t seem to quite get there. “i swear, the heart eyes from across the room, the longing gazes. god, they’ll be the death of me.”

he really, truly thinks you’re asleep. he talks like this when he doesn’t know you can hear him. though usually not about you and sam, not like this. “they’re both such idiots. idiots in love,” he laughs humorlessly to himself, then turns away, stuffing the camera back in the bag he dug it out from. “maybe i should lock them in a closet,” he considers, voice so low you can barely catch his words, “see who caves first. then they’ll probably only thank me for that or the puke-inducingly cute photo once they’re married, those ungrateful asses. kids these days.” he lets out a huff of breath as he heads to the bathroom, seemingly done with his ranting about … about what? you and sam being in love with each other? what the hell was he saying, married? you and sam? you have to hold back from letting out a lovesick sigh.

you’re so caught up turning dean’s words over in your mind that only sam’s hand lightly squeezing your side brings you back to the present. your eyes shoot open and you pull your hand out of his hair. sam parts from you, barely. how long has he been awake? you’re almost too scared to look at sam, who hasn’t even attempted to untangle himself from you. he’s still got his hand on your waist and his leg tucked between yours and your eyes catch his without you meaning to. it’s always like that; your eyes will wander until they find his face, every time. it’s habit, instinct, unavoidable.

he looks at you long, and something about his pretty eyes turned green from the morning light and the color of the sheets keeps you holding his gaze, taking him in as he does you.

when sam finally speaks, his voice is hushed, but there’s this barely contained joy to it, begging to be released. “think we should save him the trouble?” the playfulness in his voice tugs at the corner of your lips. when he sounds happy, you can’t help but feel that way.

“of?” you ask, thinking you know what he means, but wanting to be sure.

“of locking us in a closet. sounds like a bit of a hassle, if you ask me,” he smiles at you, and his words plus the sight of his dimples has got you grinning without restraint. you wonder again how long sam was awake, but completely without apprehension this time. all the two of you needed was a few playful words exchanged, and now you know. though you wouldn’t have without dean’s unwittingly overheard grumbles, so you supposed you will have to thank him after all.

“i don’t know,” you say with a false air of careful thinking, “seems like it could be fun, y’know? it’s been too long since we’ve played a good trick on dean, don’t you think?”

sam doesn’t have an answer for that because he’s been too busy staring at the way your lips move, still pulled into a smile as you talk. you take another good look at him and wonder, how in the world did i miss it? the way he looks at me?

if he doesn’t kiss you within three seconds flat, you’ll do it yourself. it takes him those three seconds exactly, and you move in such synch it’s possible that your lips meet right in the perfect middle of the barely-there space between you.

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luvergirl777 · 3 days ago

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Cleanin' Baby | Dean Winchester

Pairing | Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count | 12.5 k

Genre | Enemies to Lovers, Smut

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

“Stop calling him that?”

“Calling who what?”

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dean-“

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

“What?! It is not-”

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

---

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

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

“Washing your dirty ass car.”

“And why would you do that?”

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

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

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

“Don’t, don’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a problem?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To you, of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just, fuck, give me a second.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t do this Dean, it’s okay.”

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

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

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

“Is this what you say to every girl-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no you do not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, but you’ll make Sammy one-”

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

“In the mug you know I like-”

“What?! That’s his mug!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Need you,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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sammyluvr · 9 days ago

Text

✶ in the morning — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, mentioned alcohol use (sam's drunk), unedited, 959 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : a motel bathroom + “shhh!” “i’m trying to confess my love to you!”

sam’s tall, lanky body won’t cooperate with your gentle hands. you have to squeeze his elbows hard to keep him upright; he’s very drunk. his breath is sharp and unpleasant from all the alcohol, but his lips look soft. they feel soft when his face falls into the crook of your neck and all he does is nuzzle closer. when he mumbles something unintelligible, it feels like a kiss of sorts on your burning skin.

he’s only warmer than you are because he’s drunk. sam runs warm usually anyway, but his incessant closeness has your blood rushing under your skin and making it hot.

his breath smells like something stronger than beer, which is unusual for him. maybe he felt adventurous tonight, or maybe something’s on his mind that he foolishly decided to address with whiskey.

this motel’s bathroom is tiny, even smaller than most, which is saying something. but sam has somehow gotten his hands sticky with god knows what and it’s really bothering him. it’s bothering you too, frankly, but you’ve said nothing but, “it’s okay. it’s okay, sam,” in a saccharine sweet voice when he apologizes for getting whatever it is on your clothes. as if they aren’t stained with blood half the time.

so now you’ve got him hunched over the bathroom sink, forced right up against his side in order to keep from stumbling into the shower. at least your presence keeps him steadier than he might be on his own.

“oh, my god,” he mumbles as you push his hands back under the water when he forgets to use soap. “i need you,” he says through a huff of breath and you nearly do fall into the shower. you hand him the little bar of soap because he’s just saying that he wouldn’t be able to get this done without you in his drunken state. his big hands fumble with it and he forgets to focus on that because he’s trying to look at you instead. the bar slips comically out of his hands and nearly onto the floor. it falls into the basin of the sink, though, and he can’t seem to grasp it with his clumsy fingers.

you pick it back up for him and he leans into you. the both of you would have tumbled over if you didn’t plant a firm hand on the small of his back and push him back to lean on the sink instead.

“you look very pretty,” he tells you, words quite slurred but unmistakable. you’re not sure you can do this right now.

“finish washing your hands,” you manage to say. it’s not easy to say anything at all, not with your hand still on his back and his shoulder pressed right into you. he does as you ask, but not before looking at you with all the fondness in the world.

“okay,” he mumbles. and when he’s done, he clumsily turns to face you, putting you chest to chest with him. your breath hitches and his hands land on your hips. he holds you loosely but happily, a sweet and loopy smile on his lips.

“oh– gosh, sam–,” you choke out in surprise. you can’t help the grin that breaks across your features. “d-dry your hands!” you chide him, giving a strangled laugh at his forgetfulness. the water on his hands soaks through the fabric of your pants and shirt where they hold you.

“shit, sorry,” he slurs, pulling his hands away, and you laugh again. you reach for the towel yourself before thinking about it and end up with your front slotted right against his. you jerk back with the hand towel and grab one of his hands, drying it for him, then the other.

he watches with uncontained endearment and adoration and you swear that you can physically feel it. “won’t you look at me?”

your eyes flick up from his hands before you can stop yourself. he pouts, but seems to be holding back a smile.

“i gotta tell you something,” he murmurs, holding your hands through the towel with purpose now.

you panic a bit. you don’t want him to tell you while he’s shit-faced, you want him to remember it and mean it. as much as you want him to say what you think he’s going to, you’re not sure you can truly trust a drunken confession. so you do the first thing you can think of to get him to stop and quickly hush him. “shhh! n-no! not… not right now. you should sober up, go to bed,” you rush to say.

his face falls and he takes it the wrong way. “i… i’m trying to confess my love to you,” he whispers, looking dejected.

“oh, sam,” you sigh, softening immediately despite the way your heart leaps from your chest, “i– i know, that’s not what i– i just wanted you to be sober, i didn’t mean to–” you reach for the right words blindly, unsure how to comfort his drunken self while also steering this conversation the right way. he’ll be upset if he doesn’t remember this in the morning.

you let the towel slip away to the floor and hold his hands without anything in the way. air fills your lungs as you miraculously compose yourself. you let it out. “i know,” you murmur, “and that would make me very happy, but you’re very drunk right now. would you be willing to tell me in the morning? is that alright with you? because that would make me even happier.”

he slumps forward and suddenly his lips are planted on your cheek in a clumsy, sincere kiss. your composure shatters. “alright,” he whispers, his lips falling to your ear. “i’ll tell you in the morning.”

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mxltifxnd0m · 3 months ago

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crimson waves ☽ s. winchester

summary: you're on your period and sam is the best boyfriend ever

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

word count: 3.4K

warnings: MINORS DNI, mentions of blood and periods, fluff, fingering, implied smut (there's a little), sam being a sweetheart, no use of 'y/n', kinda edited

a/n: so this was meant to be posted when i was on my period but then i got stuck while writing it and then i went on a hiatus from tumblr for a month... but now im back! so, here it is :P

but enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me!

[here's my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Being a light sleeper was a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because you were able to wake up at any sign of danger or disturbance, and you needed to have heightened senses in your line of work. It was also a curse because your body tended to wake you up when the situation didn’t call for it, like right now.

You felt yourself being pulled from your dreamscape as your lower abdomen started to twist and cramp. You opened your eyes slowly and let out a small groan as a sharp pain shot through you. You wanted to curl into yourself, but a heavy arm was wrapped around your waist, reminding you of the person who was sleeping soundly behind you.

You blinked the sleep out of your eyes and looked at the nightstand to check the time on the alarm clock. “8:21 AM,” it read, and your eyes closed involuntarily as you let out a small sigh. You were exhausted from the hunt that you and the boys had come back from the night before. You were looking forward to sleeping in for the next couple of days before, but of course, life wasn’t going to be kind to you. Another cramp seized your body, and that was your signal to get up and check if you had started to bleed through your underwear or not.

You gently peeled off Sam’s arm, and it went willingly as he rolled onto his stomach, facing away from you, sleeping peacefully.

Lucky bastard. You thought to yourself as a scowl wormed its way onto your face as you watched Sam sleep for a moment. You got up from the bed and padded around your shared room with Sam, grabbing a new pair of underwear, a pad, and a new set of pajamas that included some soft flannel pants and Sam’s old Stanford hoodie. You went into the ensuite bathroom, and when you went to relieve yourself, you felt the unpleasant feeling of a blood clot leaving your body. You pressed your lips together, trying to tamp down the brewing irritation in your chest.

After finishing your business on the toilet, you quickly stripped, threw up your hair to avoid it getting wet, and turned the shower on. You let it warm up before hopping it, letting the hot water hit your back, and a sigh of relief left your lips as you felt the tense muscles in your stomach melt away. You didn’t know how long you stood in the shower as the water hit your chest and flowed down the rest of your body, stewing in your thoughts before you felt a pair of hands land on your hips. You went willingly as they pulled you into their bare chest and let out a contented hum as they pressed soft kisses along the side of your neck and shoulder.

“Good morning.” The rasp of Sam’s voice was deep and low in your ear as his hands moved from their spot on your hips and wrapped around your waist.

Your mouth pulled up into a smile, your mood lifting slightly. “Morning.” You let your head fall back against Sam’s shoulder, and his lips trailed up from their spot on your neck, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

“You’re up early.” He mumbled against your cheek, his grip around you getting tighter.

“Cramps.” You said in a low voice, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere of the bathroom before wincing as your lower stomach began to ache again.

Sam pressed another soft kiss to your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder. “You know, I can help with that.” One of his hands started to slide down from your waist and down to your stomach.

You grabbed his wrist before his hand could make its way to its destination. “As much as I’d like you to do that, I- oh fuck.” You almost doubled over if Sam’s arm didn’t wrap around your midsection, catching you as a more intense cramp shot through your abdomen. It felt like a boa constrictor was wrapped around your organs and suffocating them.

“You okay honey?” Sam’s concerned voice filtered through your ears as you gritted your teeth in pain.

“Not really.” You said through gritted teeth as you leaned against him when the pain had lessened. You almost snapped at him for the stupid question he asked because it was obvious that you weren’t, but you swallowed the retort you had on the tip of your tongue.

“Babe, let me help you. I heard that orgasms help with cramps.”

You would have laughed at Sam’s words if you weren’t in pain. You turned your head to look up at Sam’s pleading expression. “But the blood.” You tried weakly, not wanting him to be disgusted by it.

Sam raised an eyebrow at you. “I can handle a little blood. But if you don’t want me to, we can get out right now and I’ll get you some painkillers.”

You bit your bottom lip in thought, and you didn’t miss Sam’s eyes flickering down to your lip and back to meet your gaze. “Just use your hands for now.”

Sam smiled at you, nodding before he dipped his head down and gave you a soft kiss while one of his hands wandered down your body.

You let out a soft moan against Sam’s lips as you felt his fingertips start to rub soft circles on your already sensitive clit. Warmth spread throughout your body as desire filled your veins. Low moans and whines escaped your mouth as Sam’s fingers quickly worked over your swollen clit. Sam’s mouth swallowed your sounds as his tongue swiped against yours fervently.

You could feel your orgasm beginning to rise as Sam’s hand left your clit and two fingers started to pump into you. A cry left your lips as his thick fingers filled your cunt. Sam managed to hit your g-spot each time his fingers thrust in and out of your sopping hole. Sam’s lips left yours as he began to nip at your jaw and neck. You could vaguely feel his hard cock pressed against your ass through your lust-filled trance, and you couldn’t help but jerk your hips backward, grinding against Sam.

A low groan left Sam’s lips as you felt him grind against you in response. “You gonna cum? I can feel you clenching tight around my fingers.”

“Ye-yeah.” Your response came out as a broken moan.

Sam’s tactic changed from hitting your g-spot every time his fingers thrust in your cunt, to stilling inside of you and making a come-hither-motion with his middle and ring finger. You could feel the heat that was brewing in your core boil over.

Sam could feel how close you were and doubled down on his ministrations. “Come for me baby.” He ordered in a low voice before nipping at your pulse point.

You did just that, and you came with a shout. Stars danced behind your closed eyes as you leaned against Sam’s muscular body as you rode out your orgasm.

You whimpered once Sam’s fingers retreated from you, and you pouted at the feeling of being empty, your cunt clenching around nothing. Sam reached over and turned off the water. He turned you around in his arms and rested his hands on your hips as he pressed a chaste kiss on your slightly swollen lips before his forehead met yours.

“Feel better?” Sam asked with a loving smile on his face.

You couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Yeah, I do.” The ache in your abdomen was dull, but it wasn’t excruciating as it was when you woke up.

Sam’s smile widened, and he went to leave the shower, but you caught his wrist in your hand. He looked back at you with a furrow in his brow.

“Do you not want me to…” You trailed off, gesturing to his still-hard cock.

Sam shook his head, his slightly damp hair moving as he did. “Later. You need to eat something before you take some painkillers.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, your eyes slowly looking over his naked body before they landed on his amused face, his hazel eyes filled with mirth.

“Down girl,” Sam said jokingly when he saw your heated gaze. He grabbed the navy blue towels that weren’t there before you came into the bathroom, dried himself off quickly, and wrapped it around himself. It was slung low on his hips, revealing the deep v-line and happy trail.

If you weren’t on your period right now, you would have had Sam fucked you into next week against the tiled wall. You made your way out of the shower, where Sam met you with the other towel and dried you off. He wrapped the towel around you and kissed you when it was snug around you. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. Sam was being so sweet; it could have made your teeth ache.

When you broke away from the kiss, you shooed him out of the bathroom, wanting to put your pad on your underwear in peace. Sam pouted but left without any complaints. You took the time to change into your loungewear for the day and do your morning routine before heading back into the room.

When you left the bathroom, Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone, all dressed in his classic flannel and jeans. He looked up from his phone and started to smile as soon as Sam saw what you were wearing. He rose from the bed and met you halfway as you walked towards you.

He kissed your forehead and tugged the sleeve of your (his) sweater that you were wearing. “I was wondering where this went.” Sam said as he looked down at you with a knowing smile on his face.

You shrugged. “It must have gotten mixed in with my laundry.”

Sam nodded and let out a small chuckle, acting like he believed you, but he knew that you stole it from him. He leaned forward and planted another kiss on your forehead.

“You’re lucky that you’re cute.” Sam muttered against your forehead before pulling away and placing his hands on your shoulders. He turned you around and began to lead (push) you out of the bedroom and down the halls of the bunker.

Sam made the two of you breakfast. Then, you took some painkillers to try and curb the pain that your cramps made you suffer every month. You decided to go back to your room to relax in bed and just watch some TV that you’d been meaning to catch up on. You had asked Sam to join you, but he said that he had to go out and run some errands, which made you pout since you wanted to spend time with your boyfriend. You had offered to come with him, but he insisted that you stay in bed and rest.

You were lying in bed with your laptop on your lap and a heating pad on your stomach when you heard a knock at the door. You paused the show you were watching before telling the person at the door to come in.

Sam peered his head into the room. “Hey, honey.” He greeted you with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Feeling as good as I can be while being on my period.” You said as you heard the crinkling of plastic from the doorway, and your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“Soo, not good?” Sam asked as he entered the room with a plastic bag in one hand while his other hand was hidden behind his back.

“Not really.” You sighed a little before raising an eyebrow at him as you closed your laptop and placed it on your nightstand.

“Well,” He began to say with a wide smile. “I have some things that might make you feel better.” Sam finally entered the room, a plastic bag in one hand and the other hidden behind his back. Once he reached the edge of the bed, Sam placed the bag in your lap before sitting by your feet.

You immediately dived into the bag and saw Sam bought all of your favorite snacks and candy that you had been craving every time you were on your period. You look up from the bag and find Sam holding out a bouquet that he had hidden behind his back.

Your eyes flickered from Sam’s sheepish smile to the beautiful arrangement of tulips, lilies, and baby’s breath. You grabbed the bouquet from Sam’s outstretched hand as you continued to admire them. Your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel your eyes start to well up.

Sam caught onto your teary eyes. “You okay honey?” A slight frown marred his face as the line in between his eyebrows became more prominent.

You managed to let out a choked laugh and nodded before setting the flowers beside you. You looked at Sam with a broad smile before launching yourself into Sam’s arms.

Sam let out a surprised grunt as you wrapped your arms around his neck, and his arms instinctively wrapped around your waist. He managed to get your legs out of the blanket that covered them, but you ended up straddling his lap as you hugged Sam tightly. You could feel a stray tear or two fall from your eyes as you breathed in Sam’s comforting scent and felt one of his hands rub your back soothingly.

You eventually calmed down and pulled back to meet Sam’s eyes. “Thank you.”

Sam’s lips pulled up into a smile. “What for?” His head tilted slightly as he looked at you with his signature puppy dog look.

“Just for being you. No one has gone out of their way to get me my favorite snacks or flowers when I’m on my period.”

Your lifestyle didn’t really allow for serious relationships, so you were never granted the luxury of your partners showering you with love and care while you were on your period. Besides, your last real relationship didn’t end very well. So when you met Winchesters, the last thing on your mind was falling in love with one of them, but life had other plans for you and Sam.

Sam tucked a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. “Whoever didn’t is an idiot.” He flashed you his cute half-smile that never failed to make you feel warm inside as he rested his hand on your cheek. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into his touch as you leaned forward and rested your forehead against his.

“When we die and we’re in Heaven, and if Jess is there, I’m giving her a big fat kiss on the lips for training you so well.” You joked with a broad smile on your lips.

Sam couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m sure she’ll enjoy it.” There was a pause before he spoke again. “The two of you would have been good friends.” Sam said with fondness coating his words.

“But you’re okay with sharing me in Heaven?” Sam’s tone was teasing. You pulled back from him slightly as you let your eyes trail over his figure before meeting his hazel gaze and biting your bottom lip.

“Oh, I have no problem with sharing. The question is if you’re able to handle the both of us?” You said with a sultry smirk on your face.

Sam’s upper lip twitched before you saw a glint of amusement pass through his eyes. “Well, we’ll find out when we cross that bridge.”

“I suppose we will.”

A silence had settled between the two of you, just staring at each other while Sam’s hands were resting on your thighs and your hands were scratching at the back of his neck, which he had lost the staring contest as his eyes closed in bliss. You had to smile as he let out satisfied hums from his mouth. You had eventually climbed off of your boyfriend, and he whined as you stopped scratching his head and neck. He let you go and sit back in your previous spot on your bed.

You huffed amusedly at Sam’s slight pout. “Go change.” You told him.

“Why?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Because, I want to cuddle my boyfriend in comfortable clothing while we pig out on the snacks he bought me.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea.”

“I know, and hurry your cute ass up and change.”

After Sam had changed, you guys cuddled in bed as you finished up the episode you were watching on your laptop. You ate the snacks Sam bought but saved most of it for later. Before you knew it, Dean was knocking at the door and letting the two of you know that dinner was ready. You were still hungry, so the two of you left your room and had dinner with Dean in the kitchen.

Once you were done with dinner, the three of you had an impromptu movie night in the “Dean Cave” (you hated the name, but it unfortunately stuck). Dean picked out an old western, and as much as you love Dean, he could have a better taste in movies. Nonetheless, you sat and watched it until about halfway through the movie. Your cramps started to rear their ugly head again.

You let out a quiet groan before silently excusing yourself from the room and making your way to your bedroom to take some painkillers. Unbeknownst to you, Sam had heard you and followed shortly after you left the room.

You quickly downed the painkillers and used the spare water bottle that was on your nightstand to wash them down. You knew that it would take a while for them to kick in, so you went to get into bed, but before you could, a pair of arms wrapped around you pulled you into their chest for the second time today.

Sam’s hands went underneath the sweater you were wearing and rested his warm palms on your lower stomach. “Cramps again?” He asked as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

You nodded as you let out a sigh. You leaned back into Sam’s embrace and closed your eyes. You could feel Sam’s thumbs swirling random shapes into your skin before he murmured your name quietly, getting your attention.

“Yeah?” You asked slowly.

“Can I take care of you like I did this morning?”

Your eyes shot open as you turned around in his embrace. “You sure?” You cleared your throat. “It’ won’t be as-,” You gestured to your nether regions. “-clean.” You winced at your words.

Sam looked at you unamused. “Like I said before, blood doesn’t bother me.” He said before he smirked. “Besides, the sheets needed to be washed anyway.”

“Sam!” You slapped his shoulder, but you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips as he smiled cheekily at you.

“Is that a yes?”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. You were a little hesitant, but this was Sam you were talking about. You had explored any and all avenues of your sex lives with each other, and this was one of the boxes on his checklist.

“It’s a yes. But-”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence because Sam had pulled your lips to his and drew you into a passionate kiss. And before you knew it, your whines and moans, combined with Sam’s groans, had filled the air as you writhed against the bed in pleasure as Sam ground against you, only pulling back slightly and thrusting as deep as he could, drawing out your third orgasm on his cock before he spilled into you.

Your bodies were coated in sweat, and you could only imagine the mess that was in between yours and Sam’s legs. After Sam had recovered, he went into the bathroom to grab some damp washcloths to clean the both of you up and quickly ran a hot bath for you to relax in while he threw the sheets in the wash.

When you were done with the bath, you gained the ability to walk again. You stumbled into the bedroom with the discarded pajamas that were once scattered on the floor back on your body. Sam was done changing the sheets of your bed. You all but collapsed into his arms, and the both of you shared a sleepy, soft kiss before you succumbed to sleep.

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starrylanex · 4 months ago

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shower power — sam winchester

kinktober day 1, summary - after a long hunt, sam pulls you into the shower at a shared motel room, where dean could walk in. his large hands grip your hair as he takes you against the shower wall, making you keep quiet. warnings - no use of y!n, lower case intended. word count - 1,5k. take me back to main kinktober masterlist;

hiii angels, i feel like this sucks because i rushed it:((((

——

the door of the motel room shut behind you with a thud, the click of the lock barely audible over the pounding of your heart. all three if you had been through hell tonight—blood, sweat, and tension thick in the air—but even after the hunt, something more primal lingered between you. it had been building for days. maybe weeks.

dean's voice drifted behind you to the other side of the room, muttering something about the bed and the tv, but you couldn't focus. you needed a shower, something to wash away the grime—and the tension that coiled tightly in your chest.

without a word, you made your way to the bathroom. the door creaked open, and you barely had a chance to turn on the water when you felt sam's presence behind you. before you could say anything, he locked the bathroom door behind him and his large hand gripped your arm, pulling you back into the small space with him.

"sam," you whispered, barely able to get his name out before he backed you against the tiled wall in the shower, the cold seeping through your clothes as his lips crashed down on yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

"shh," he murmured against your lips, his voice a low, gravelly warning. "dean's right outside." his hand slid up to your jaw, his thumb pressed against your cheek and the rest of his fingers spread to where your head met the neck, not squeezing, but holding you in place as his lips moved to your ear, teeth grazing your skin. "you're gonna have to be quiet."

your breath hitched as his words sent a thrill through you. you were planning on taking care of yourself in the shower, not wanting to disturb sam, but apparently he had the same idea, as his other hand was already working on your clothes, rough and fast, tugging them away as if they were in his way—because they were. and the moment the both of you undressed each other, throwing shirts and pants away, the shower sputtered to life, the perfect temperature water hitting your skin, already forgotten in the heat of the moment.

sam pressed you harder against the wall, his broad frame caging you in. his hands found their way back to the both sides of your face, cradling you. you bit down on your bottom lip to keep from making a sound, but when one of his hand slipped between your legs, and teased your already wet and sensitive lips, a gasp escaped your throat.

"quiet," he growled, his voice thick with desire as his long middle finger moved, sliding up and down on you, his other hand still gripping your jaw, tilting your head back. his lips found your throat, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks that would last for days. "or he'll hear everything."

you whimpered, trying to stay as quiet as you could, nodding as his hand left your jaw and grabbed your leg, pulling it around his waist. the pressure of his body against yours had you already seeing stars, the friction of his long finger making it nearly impossible to stay silent. every stroke, every touch from him sent fire through your veins, even when he still hadn't entered you properly.

"sammy please," you whisper, bringing your hands and gripping his shoulders, head tilted back and eyes closed in pleasure.

sam hums, "please what, sweetheart," he murmurs against your neck close to your ear, his fingers gripped your hip so tight you were sure there'd be bruises tomorrow, but you didn't care. all you could think about was how badly you needed him. the water from the shower sprayed around you both, the heat adding to the intensity of the moment, but it did nothing to cool the burning inside you.

"i need you inside of me, please, sammy, please" you whimper, pleasure given just from his finger slowly building up.

sam's lips were on you again, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip before his teeth grazed it. "you like this, don't you?" he whispered, his breath ragged. "the thought of dean being able to hear, the risk of us being caught." his hand tightened on your jaw, not enough to hurt you, but enough to manhandle you, pulling your head back to look into his eyes. "you love it."

you could only nod, your throat too tight with need to speak. your body ached for him, every touch sending you spiraling, but his control over you, the way he made you desperate and yet forced you to stay quiet, only made the moment more intense. water poured over the two of you, slowly washing away the dirt.

"alright then," he murmured, "let me take care of you sweetheart." he said and with swift movements he picked you up wrapping your legs around his waist, you whined as you felt his finger disappear from your cunt, but let out a gasp as soon as you felt him align his already pulsing cock against your entrance. you wanted to moan, to plead him to do it faster but you knew if you did dean would hear, so you stayed quiet, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck.

he then kissed you, like a man starving, nothing about this kiss was soft, teeth clashing and pulling, without a warning sam thrust into you, hard and full as he bottomed out, your gasp and his groan being swallowed by each others mouths. you couldn't hold on to him like this anymore so you brought your left hand to rest on the wall nearest you, which happened to be the glass.

sam did not waist any more second. his forehead pressed to yours, his jaw clenched as he fought for control. his thrusts were slow, deliberate at first, drawing out every sensation, every wave of pleasure. you could feel his breath on your lips, heavy and ragged, as he fought to keep himself quiet, too. you bit down on his shoulder to muffle the sound that threatened to escape as he picked up his pace, your nails digging into his back. each movement was rougher, more intense, his control unraveling with every second.

the tension in the room was heavy enough that you could cut it with a knife, the sound of water hitting the tile barely enough to drown out your heavy breaths, as sam continued to thrust into you, the eye contact with him was intensifying the aura around. you were both teetering on the edge, desperately trying to stay silent, but it was impossible to contain the raw energy that was about to break between you.

you cant contain your moan as he shifts and now hitting your gspot repeatedly, all you could thing about was him, sam, sam, sam, sam, sam as the pleasure built up.

"fuck," sam grunted, his head dropping to your shoulder, teeth grazing your skin. his hand snaked up to cover your mouth, his lips pressing to your ear. "i said... keep quiet."

you nodded, not being able to say anything e,se as your mouth hang open behind his hand but no sound came out, eyes rolling back as he thrust harder, his pace relentless now. the pressure built inside you, and built and built and built, your whole body tightening, but the intensity, the risk, the sheer need that filled the room—it was too much. you could barely hold back the sounds threatening to break free.

sam's grip on you tightened as he growled low in your ear, he could feel you clenching around him, he knew you were close and fuck if you kept clenching around him like that he was sure he would cum right at that moment as his movements becoming erratic, more urgent. and then, you vision blurred, your body shaking with the force of your release as he buried himself deeper into you. the sound of your muffled moan against his hand only spurred him on, his own release crashing through him moments later and right in you. his body trembled against yours, his grip finally loosening as you both came down from the high, the water still pouring over you both.

for a moment, you stayed like that—breathless, tangled together, hearts racing.

then, with a smirk, sam pulled away, his hand still resting on your hip as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

"next time," he whispered, voice hoarse, "we'll get our own room."

you couldn't help but laugh softly, even as you struggled to catch your breath. the sound of dean grumbling from the other room filtered through the door, and you knew he probably heard more than he let on.

but right now, you didn't care. all you could think about was sam—his touch, his intensity—and the way you knew you were already waiting for the next one.

#fanfic #x reader #supernatural kinktober #kinktober #sam winchester kinktober #sam winchester x ofc #sam winchester x you #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester smut

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ultravi0lence14 · 4 months ago

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Everything Has Changed

sam winchester x fem!reader

5.1k | fluff

summary: the love story between you and sam winchester, starting only at the age of six.

*buckle in everyone, this is the longest fic i’ve ever written

age six:

you didn’t want to be here. you wanted to be back home in massachusetts, sitting on the living room couch and watching morning cartoons with your mother.

but that would never happen again, not after what happened last week. not after that evil man with black eyes broke into your home and killed your mom while you hid in your bedroom closest, hearing everything while silent tears rolled down your cheeks.

now your father had taken you to south dakota, rambling on and on about the nice old man named bobby who would be watching you for a while. you didn’t want to stay with bobby. you wanted your mom, and your dad hauling every one of your belongings and shipping you off to another state was not helping your six year old brain cope with the pain.

looking out the window as your dad drove up a long driveway, the only thing you could see for miles was cars; junk cars to be exact. when the car finally rumbled to a stop, the home in front of it was anything but the one you had grown accustomed to.

your hand was clutched tight in your fathers as he rang the door bell. the disney princess suitcase by your feet was the only thing you could look at as the door swung open and your dad conversed with who you assumed was bobby. the older man seemed nice enough. his accent sounded funny, and the bowl of ice cream that greeted you when you walked in the kitchen had you enjoying this house even more.

when your dad kissed your head and told you he’d be gone for a few days, you didn’t know what to think. you were so young that the notion of your dad going out and hunting the demon that killed your mom was completely out of your headspace. you just thought he had obligations with work and was needed away for a couple of weeks.

those couple of weeks turned into two months. soon those two months turned into six. it dawned on you at such a young age that your father was probably not coming back, that both of your parents left you in the span of a week and you were stuck with a total stranger.

it was an awful thing for a mere kindergartener to comprehend, and it absolutely pained bobby to watch that realization slowly slip into your face day by day as you sat on the porch, awaiting for your dads non existing arrival.

when the seventh month mark had hit, the rumble of a car was heard from the front of the house. an excited smile lit up your face. your dad was finally back. after so long he was here to come get you and take you to wherever he has been for all these months.

the shear disappointment on your face when you realized it wasn’t your dad was palpable. but the confusion that followed it when a strange man and two young boys came into view was even stronger.

the taller of the two children looked to be a couple years older than you; maybe ten or something around there. his face was stoic and the way his steely gaze swept over you— clutched to bobby’s side, was something that made you nervous.

when you looked over to what you’d assumed was his younger brother, you were instantly drawn in to how this boy was a complete 180 from his brother. he seemed more timid, shy in how he walked with his head down and lip drawn between his teeth, gnawing at the skin as he looked up to switch his gaze from bobby, to you.

for as long as he could, sam would go on and on about how he fell in love with you from the very first time he saw you. that breezy day in late ‘89 was the start of his never ending admiration and love for the girl who he’d met on bobby’s porch at the young age of six.

that day was the start of a whole new beginning. who knew what would’ve happened if john winchester didn’t drop off his two sons that day. no one could guess if you and sam would somehow find a way to each other. but the universe sure forced you together at a young age, and you would be forever greatful for that.

age nine:

the wind blew back your hair, rustling the trees in the tree line as you and sam sat on the grass, silently reading.

it had been three years since your dad left you at bobby’s, and after about a year, you’d realized that he wasn’t coming back. it was hard at first, the tears didn’t stop coming for at least a week after the realization set in. but you had bobby, who’d stepped up and been more of a father than your own ever could’ve.

there was also the factor of sam and dean winchester, but they were a little more complicated than your father/daughter relationship with bobby.

dean winchester was like an older brother to you. someone who annoyed you like hell but would always be there to protect you when needed. he cared about the people he loved more than he could breathe, and you were grateful to have someone who would always be there for you.

sam, he was a little different then his brother. while dean was four years older, you two were the same age. you always felt a different bond with sam, something that was less brotherly and more shy smiles and rosy cheeks.

you’d harboured a crush on the youngest winchester boy, you just didn’t know what to do with it.

that crush didn’t blow away with the wind, it stayed while you sat side by side with sam, knees brushing as you both turned the pages of your corresponding books.

you didn’t know what to do. hell you were only a kid, merely in the fourth grade and not even double digits yet. the relationship you shared with sam was too precious to you for it to just be ruined by your stupid blabbing mouth. so you kept quiet, simply enjoying the time you spent with sam as friends and hoping that someday this crush would go away.

“have you ever wondered what it’s like to be an adult?” sam’s question startled you from your reading, the silence between you two going on for so long that his voice was quite jarring.

softly closing your back and moving over to face sam, you looked up at the blowing leaves on the trees, truly pondering your friends question. “i don’t know.” you responded after a long while, looking back down at sam and his expectant eyes. “i’d like to think that being an adult would be better, but then i think of my dad, and your dad even, and i wonder if being a kid forever would be so bad.”

you were young, but you weren’t stupid. you saw how aggressive sam and dean’s father was, you saw all the arguments him and bobby had about adult stuff you couldn’t understand. though, most definitely you understood the cowardly actions of your dad running away, leaving his adult duties of being a dad and dumping his own child with another. you vowed to never be like him, to never leave the people you love behind.

it seemed as though sam was truly thinking about your words, really diving deep into what you meant and if his ideologies aligned with yours.

fiddling with his fingers, sam looked down at his lap, biting his lip as he always did when he was nervous. “well i’m just wondering because dean told me he had his first kiss, and when i asked him when it was my turn, he said when i was older. how old do we have to be to have our first kiss Y/N?”

sam’s question caught you by surprise. you never really thought about the notions of a first kiss. sure you’ve thought of kissing sam before, but that was just the crush talking. it would never happen, and sam just asked from a place of curiosity and wonder, not because he wanted to kiss you.

“maybe junior high? i’m really not sure.” your head had been down while speaking, picking shreds of grass as you responded to sam. though, when you looked up, you were met with the feeling of sam’s lips on yours, and your whole world completely stopped.

it wasn’t a long kiss, just a second long peck. but even then, the feeling of sam gently and nervously pressing his lips to yours had blood rushing to your cheeks and a weird fluttery feeling in your gut.

you hadn’t spoken yet, and the mixed in with the wide eyed expression on your face started to make sam worry. “oh god, i’m so sorry Y/N. i should’ve asked if that was okay first. i’m a gentleman i swear! dad and dean taught me better. please don’t be mad at me, please.” sam’s ramblings had a quick smile spreading on your face.

even after something so innocent as a quick, childlike kiss on the lips, sam still worried for your well being, for how you felt in all of it. his strong need to always make sure you were okay made you feel so comfortable with him. even though you were so young, you remembered feeling happy and content about that moment many years later.

sam winchester innocently stole your first kiss, and you wouldn’t change any of it for the world.

age thirteen:

middle school sucked, and you were fully prepared to beg bobby to let you be homeschooled if it continued to be like this.

the people in your school weren’t nice at all. making jokes about how you lived on the town dump and how your father was a drunk weirdo. though, when stupid clara riggs found out bobby wasn’t even your dad, she made it her mission to go around and tell everyone that your own parents hated you so much, they left you on the doorstep of the first ‘trailer trash’ they could find.

her words made you angry. bobby wasn’t a drunk or trailer trash, he was far from it. and so what if he wasn’t your father? he took that position when your own dad couldn’t, and you would like to see the look on clara’s face when your whole grade found out her dad was cheating on her mom with their babysitter.

though they say the words of a middle schooler still stings, and they had bobby finding you curled up in your bed, tears rolling down your cheeks as you clung onto your little bunny plushie.

he tried to make you feel better, telling you that kids could be mean sometimes and the best thing you could do was ignore them. but you wouldn’t listen, and bobby knew that a visit from sam and dean was long overdue.

you hadn’t seen your two best friends in almost six months. john had them hauled around half of the united states, putting dean on his first solo hunts and allowing sam to finally join when he and dean went out. they’d missed you though. even dean who’d recently turned seventeen was missing some time with his built in little sister.

a couple of hours later, a knock on your door interrupted the silent tears streaming down your face. you were fully prepared to tell bobby to go away, but when the door opened slightly and revealed a lanky sam winchester in it’s frame, you couldn’t resist springing up and running to give him a hug.

the force at which you ran at sam had him stumbling to steady himself, arms going around your waist and socked feet slightly slipping against the hard wood. he didn’t want you to fall, and if you did, he’d rather himself break your fall then risk you having a nasty bruise.

when he finally steadied the both of you, sam reacted in hugging you back. the feeling of your face in the crook of his neck had him feeling at peace. all he could do was grip onto you tighter, hoping that his presence would help with whatever pain you felt.

as he pulled away, sam moved the hair away from your face without a second thought, not thinking anything of it as he wanted to properly see your face. “what’s got you so upset, ladybug?” the nickname came from a hike that you and sam went on when you were eleven. a ladybug landing on your finger and a bright smile adorning your face right after.

sam would say that was the most beautiful you’ve ever looked. but hell, you look beautiful every time he looks at you.

when you were through with explaining what had made you upset, sam could feel himself garnering sympathy and anger towards your situation. he felt bad, knowing you did not deserve any of those words said to you for they were far from the truth. though he was also angry because clara riggs had no right to talk. her family was more dysfunctional than his and that was really saying something.

“hey don’t listen to her.” sam soothed, hands no rubbing up and down your back to calm you down. “she’s always been cruel, her words should mean nothing to you.”

they did mean something to you, but you didn’t want to worry sam with all your constant worrying. so you just smiled, nodding at sam and half heartedly agreeing, you knew that this was something you’d have to get over on your own, that your dad left you with bobby and your mom was dead. but it was starting to get better, and you knew you had to thank bobby, dean, and especially sam for it.

“c’mon,” sam smiled, slinging his arm around your shoulder. “dean’s dying to see you. he’s been dying to take you on a ride in the impala now that he has his license.”

age seventeen:

high school had gone by in a blur, and suddenly, you were in your senior year. life didn’t feel real. it didn’t feel like you were about to graduate and move onto university in a mere couple of months, but you also accepted this change, knowing that it was good for you.

“bobby can you stop worrying, i’ll be fine.” the older man had busied himself with helping you sort out all your back to school essentials, fussing over your backpack and what clothes you were going to wear. it didn’t matter that you didn’t have a mom or dad, for bobby was basically a two in one with how he handled clothing emergencies and the practical stuff.

huffing, bobby straightened out your jacket one more time, stepping back and finally taking a good look. “god Y/N you are so grown up. i can just picture your tiny little legs running around these halls, making a mess of all my books.”

scowling, you playfully threw a throw pillow at him. “it’s not my fault you left your ancient mythology book right on the table. who knew john needed it for some pesky siren.” the look in bobby’s eyes were deadpan, almost like he was daring you to finish your sentence. “i did, you idjit. that’s why i left it there in the first place.”

“well,” you sighed, leaning against the front door. “we live and we learn.” bobby just grumbled as he shoed you out the door, rambling on about how if you didn’t leave now you’d be late to your last, first day of high school.

the day had gone by pretty quickly, uneventful classes that just had teachers rambling on about college and how now that you were in grade 12, you had to smarten up and focus on your grades.

you were focussing all right. focused on helping bobby with a gnarly werewolf who’d hopefully be the first creature that you’d get to shoot.

you’d known about the supernatural since you were ten, an bobby had you training with a gun since you were fourteen. he still didn’t let you frequently go on hunts, only allowing if it was something small and he’d know you’d be safe.

that didn’t matter though, because at least you got a taste of how it felt. it was nice, but you knew that college was definitely something that you’d want to explore, and it was great that bobby was on board with it.

the man didn’t want you getting swept into the hunter life, explaining how getting out as fast as you can would be the best scenario for you. you understood, agreeing with bobby that getting a couple hunts in before you left wasn’t such a bad thing.

unlike you, sam wasn’t as fortunate to have such an understanding parental figure as you did.

he explained to you how is father was hell bent on sam staying with him and dean, not leaving the family business until their mothers killer was avenged.

you knew sam didn’t want that. he expressed to you so many times how he dreamed of going to university, getting out of the hunter life so he could live normally for once. you were supportive of him, silently cursing john for his terrible ways of treating his sons.

so walking into your bedroom to see sam winchester sat on your bed watching buffy the vampire slayer was not something you were surprised by. him running away from his dads antics had been happening more often lately, and you really didn’t blame him. john was getting even more out of hand then he already was, and the mentions of sam leaving for university wasn’t helping.

his head turned as you closed the door behind you, eyes softening to that golden hazel that you could never resist. but sam looked so sad, and you wanted to help him for all those times that he’s been by your side wiping your tears.

“sammy, what’s wrong? was it your dad again?” all he could do was shake his head no, sniffling slightly while his hand moved up to whip his tear stained cheeks.

you softly sat down beside him, hand instantly finding his and squeezing, letting him know you were there. “it’s me Y/N, it’s all me.” his words had you cocking your head in confusion, but as he continued, you felt your heart break even more. “dad wants me to follow him and dean, but i don’t want to! anytime i bring it up he gets so mad, and i can see how upset it makes dean. if i leave, dad said i’d be disappointing the family. i don’t want to disappoint my brother Y/N. ever.”

as he continued to speak, you could feel your heart go from breaking to falling completely out of your chest. the pressure that john winchester was putting on his young son was unacceptable. sam wanting to go to college was normal, and telling him that him leaving would disappoint his family was absolutely vile and disgusting.

“sam,” you whispered, head leaning on his shoulder so he could feel some semblance of comfort. “you have every right to want to pursue a higher education. dean will come around eventually, you know that. me and you both know that your dad is very stuck in his ways, but if you want this to happen then you’ll fucking make it happen. am i clear sam winchester?”

his laugh brought a smile to your face. sam being happy made you happy. and knowing that you made him laugh after he was so torn up and sad inside made you feel a warm and fuzzy feeling.

“trust me, i know how crystal clear you are.” his giggle died down as a contemplative look dawned on his face. “i even have a slight idea of where i want to go.”

humming slightly, you heard sam sigh as he continued. “i think i want to go to stanford, for law.” lifting your head from his shoulder, you cracked a smile as you jokingly punched him on the shoulder. “oh sammy, you pretentious snob. you’ll fit in there perfectly.”

“not as perfect as you at clown college.”

“okay now your pushing your luck, winchester.”

age twenty three:

those crucial moments in yours and sam’s story has always been something that made you smile. even now, when you haven’t seen the younger winchester boy in almost five years.

the last time you saw him, you were helping him move into his stanford dorm. john was absolutely out of the picture, and dean was still wound up over the whole thing. the only person that sam knew would help him and guide him through the day was you.

you’d gave him a massive hug, kissing him on the cheek and reminding him that he would do great things, that you would always support him.

as you left, a single tear had raised to your water line. but you wouldn’t let it fall. sam was finally doing what he always wanted to achieve. leaving the family business and living a normal life. if that meant not seeing him for a while then so be it.

though, these past five years have been torture without him.

you saw dean here and there. though the last time you crossed paths was when him and john were working a case down near your college campus in seattle washington, and even that was around two years ago.

dean was doing fine. he was coping with sam’s departure and seemed to really get a good grip on the whole hunting thing. it was like there was no time between then and the last time you two saw each other. it was like old times, laughter ringing through your small apartment and dean still being a major pain in your ass.

but now you were twenty three, in grad school and still living in washington state. your apartment was small, but manageable, and the job you had working as a barista in a coffee shop down the street from where you lived was going fine.

your life was doable, normal with no monsters lurking around. and you felt very content with that.

well, of course, as stories go, that was until dean came around calling your home phone and asking you for help with a case him and sam were working on.

yes, sam. he’d come back into the hunting scene around a year ago. you weren’t completely out of the loop, you still kept in touch with some hunters here and there. then there was bobby who was always on you, calling your phone every week to have your weekly gossip hour as he liked to call it.

all you knew was the sam was hunting again and john winchester had passed about two months ago. you hadn’t seen the older man in well over six years, and you weren’t completely fond of how he treated his boys, but that didn’t mean you were going to speak ill of the dead.

even if the dead was a borderline abusive dickwad.

now, you found yourself waiting out in front of your apartment building, bags in hand as you anticipated the familiar sound of the roaring chevy impala.

you didn’t know how to feel. you hadn’t seen dean in almost two years. hell, you hadn’t seen sam in five, and you knew all these nervous feelings were because of him.

when you were a kid, you always waited on the day that your crush on sam would go away. you wanted to view him like you viewed dean; like a brother. you knew how complicated things would get if you confessed to sam and he didn’t like you back. but even now, those feelings still rumbled in your gut, and you were hoping and praying seeing same again wouldn’t dredge them back up.

as the car pulled in front of you, and you saw sam’s figure in the front seat, those feelings sprung up your throat like a weekend bender when you were nineteen. he looked even more beautiful. hair grown out longer, face more mature. sam had grown into a fine looking young man, and you were cursing yourself for even thinking such thoughts.

the car ride to indiana wasn’t terrible. you and dean talked for a bit, caught up on all the things that had happened in the past two years. sam on the other hand was more quite. he chimed in once in a while, not shying away from saying hello to you or smiling at you through the rearview mirror, but you knew he was waiting for a time more intimate. a time were he could look you face to face and indulge in a five year long due conversation.

dean finally stopped outside a gas station in the heart of this towns square, letting you and sam know that he was getting more road food and stocking up on gas.

as dean disappeared into the store, you felt a slight tug on your arm. turning around you were instantly ambushed by the feeling of sam’s arms wrapping around you and his body eclipsing yours. he hadn’t hugged you this tight in such a long time, and the feeling had you so overwhelmed with joy that a couple of tears slipped onto your cheeks.

“how’ve you been, ladybug?” the nickname had you gasping out a sob, not that it was a sad one, you were so happy that tears of happiness had fallen and you were full on laugh crying into sam’s chest.

dean usually took an abnormally long time in the gas stations, so you and sam prioritized on that time to catch up on all the things you both missed. he told you about california, you told him about washington. he mentioned all the crazy things he got up to and you told him about all the late night tv show binges you’ve done in the years.

you two had been so caught up in talking, that when the family of three passed behind sam, you didn’t even think much of it. that was until you noticed how familiar the father looked.

oh god, no, it couldn’t be. walking behind sam was your dad, rocking a full blown wife and a daughter, who couldn’t be any older than thirteen.

that’s where he went for all those years? he started a whole new fucking family? you just happened to be so repulsive that your own goddamn father couldn’t stand to be around you? he had to fuck off to indiana and get a whole new family to replace you and your mom.

the world felt like it was spinning. you didn’t even notice sam’s confused glance, or his widened eyes as he finally realized what you had seen. all you remembered was the feeling of his hand on your back, guiding you into the backseat of the impala. he was telling you that everything was okay, but you didn’t know if you believed him or not.

dean coming back and driving to a motel was all a blur. the next thing you remember, sam was helping you walk to a bed, sitting you down and going to grab you a glass of water.

he was worried. you hadn’t moved a muscle since you saw your dad. it was justified though, for you hadn’t seen him in almost seventeen years. he’d walked out on you, and now you had to see him with a whole new family. sam couldn’t even begin to comprehend the pain you were going through.

all sam could do was sit with you. hand rubbing your back as the other mindlessly twirled with a strand of your hair.

dean raved on about how he was going to go find your dad and beat his ass, though sam assumed he was going to give up after maybe ten minutes and end up plastered at a bar.

“oh sweet girl.” you heard sam murmur, moving his arm so he could allow you to rest your head on his shoulder. “why can’t you see how perfect you are? why can’t you see that your dad leaving doesn’t define you.”

quietly sniffling to yourself, you nuzzled your face in sam’s chest even more. “but it does.” you mumbled, playing with a lose thread on sam’s coat. “ever since i was a kid that’s all anyone could talk about. how my dad left me cause he didn’t love me anymore. well guess what? now i know it’s true.”

sam abruptly standing up had you almost falling sideways onto the bed. his hand blocking your head from the fall wasn’t what surprised you, but the anger that was radiating off of him.

“goddammit Y/N. your dad is a jackass, plain and simple. he left and with that left the most amazing and intelligent woman i have ever met. i’ve been so enthralled by you since the day i fucking met you when we were six. i’ve loved you since we shared our first kiss when we were nine, since i wiped your tears at thirteen, and especially when you encouraged me to follow my dreams when we were seventeen.”

“you have been by my side for ever major moment in my life, and i would be a fool to not tell you now how much i am in love with you-“ sam didn’t have time to finish, for you were leaping off the bed and smashing your lips on his. promptly cutting off his sentence.

the two of you hadn’t shared a kiss since you were single digits, but something about sam’s lips and touch felt so familiar. all of the pent up emotions and feelings went into the kiss. years and years of holding back and keeping each other at an arms length was finally being thrown out the window.

both you and sam had been waiting for this moment since you were kids, and you were glad to say that the fluttery feeling you had in your chest whenever he was near wouldn’t be going away soon.

all your days, you’d known sam’s face, and for the rest of your days you still would. sam winchester was your constant, your blinding light of hope in the shit storm that was life.

you possibly couldn’t ask for anything better.

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