#sammy is back doing research

[batcavescolony]

S5 E5 Supernatural

I'm sorry guest star Paris Hilton?

Sam and Dean's faces at the local cops stupidity 💀💀💀. Dean geeking out over James Dean's car (but it's a fake rip). They travel around the country and didn't think to learn Spanish? I feel like that'd be helpful. Don't meet your heros I guess? I feel bad for Sam, he feels bad for releasing Lucifer. Did they have Paris Hilton make fun of celebrities? Finally some reconciliation! We're moving forward, progress!

[sleepyangelkami]

COSTUME s.winchester

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 3.4K

SAM WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 A/N - this is my first ever time writing about sucking dick, please be nice to me, i'll cry.

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - you had to dress up as an FBI agent with the winchester brothers. you felt stupid in a costume but luckily for you, sam really liked seeing you in a skirt.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, dom!sam, sub!reader, oral(s!rec), no p!v sex, size kink, praise kink, fingering, slight manipulation, reader lowk flexible, cum eating, messy sex, squirting, (1) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

"come on, y/n, we gotta go!" you heard dean's not so gentle knock against the bathroom door as you slipped on your last mary jane shoe.

you weren't usually chosen for tasks like this.

usually, it was the winchester boys that did all this kind of thing, you know, fraud? you were usually just the researcher, sitting in the motel room as back up, with a laptop perched on your lap or sitting in baby, the key inside and waiting to be their getaway car.

you weren't really hands on when it came to being a hunter.

you never really had to go out into the real world for much. but this particular demon was snatching girls, twenty something year old girls about your age and appearance. the brothers thought it would be best if another girl accompanied them when investigating the missing girls' roomates and not two six-foot men dressed in suits.

dean's head turned as the creaky bathroom door opened. "I feel stupid."

his eyebrows raised to the tips of his forehead, a look of shock passing over him as he cleared his throat with a breathy laugh. "wait 'til sammy sees you." you just gave him a confused look before grabbing the pretty pink purse that sat on the bed. "aah-ah." you look up at dean confused. "kind of ruins the whole FBI vibe, don't you think?"

you eyed the purse in your hands.

it was a little bag, hardly able to hold anything other than your phone and your lipgloss, not that you ever had to worry about holding your wallet when you had the boys around but nonetheless, a card was wedged in there too.

it was pink with darker pink flowers on it and a ribbon attached to the strap. sam had gotten it for you after a case that you worked particularly hard on.

but dean was right, it didn't fit the whole 'FBI vibe' so you sighed and placed it back on the bed, passing the man an unhappy glance.

sam was outside, sitting in the passenger seat of the infamous impala named 'baby' by dean. he'd packed and started the car, waiting for the two of you when you caught his eye.

or should he say, your outfit.

you often wore pretty little sundresses or blouses and skirts paired together with a pretty cardigan drawn over you. but this? This seemed awfully different to your usual attire.

the white blouse was a little too low for comfort and he could tell by the way you were pulling it up over your cleavage that you agreed. your black pencil skirt was high, too high with a pair of long black stockings that stopped just above your knees paired with the infamous mary janes that you wore with almost everything.

sam was staring.

"what are you wearing?" was the first thing he asked when you and dean got into the car. "what is she wearing?" he turned back to dean.

you owned the stockings and the mary janes before hand but the rest of the outfit? it'd been dean's job to pick it out (which was no wonder you looked like... that.) "dude, she has to play the part."

"yeah of an FBI agent not some sexy stripper cop." sam spoke, exasperated.

"thank you!" you beamed from the back seat before your eyes furrowed. perhaps your boyfriend hadn't been complimenting you at all.

sam passed you a glance through the mirror but was more focused on blaming his brother. how could he let you go out looking like that for everyone to see? how could he make sam watch you while his pants tightened and his bulge was on show?

you thought the interviews went smoothly. you sat down with most of the women. the college women who's roomates had gone missing. dean was too busy fraternizing with the college girls to care about the case anymore and sam... well sam had seemed a little distracted from the beginning.

he couldn't rip his eyes away from you. you sat so perfectly, pieces of hair falling into your face as you nodded and sympathised with the women, asking them questions and jotting down notes onto a little notepad you had found in the backseat of baby.

sam was staring at you, at the way he could see the outline of your boobs down your shirt or the way your plush thighs protruded from the fabric of your stockings.

he was in awe.

it was hard to focus on anything other than you, which is why he had to excuse himself to talk to the headmaster instead of being stuck in a room with you, too close.

he was your boyfriend, it wasn't as if you hadn't done things with him before. on the contrary, you did... many things with sam before. but this was borderline unprofessional, the way he let his thoughts run.

he could imagine sliding his hands beneath your skirt or listening to your little gasps when he touched your skin, barely grazing it. you were so easily led like that, so audible and obedient. he could imagine unbuttoning your shirt slowly, with you sat on his lap while whines fell from your lips, whimpers following shortly after.

he needed to stop thinking.

or better yet, he needed to fuck you until the thoughts stopped.

dean decided he was going to check out the last spot that the college girl had been taken, assuring you both that he wouldn't be back before dinner. but the wink he shot his younger brother told him that he was merely giving you both alone time because he was no stranger to the look in sam's eyes.

and this was when sam got selfish.

honestly, the motel wasn't that far from the college so you and sam opted to walk back. the air turned brisk and for a split second, sam was about to offer you his jacket, the way he always would.

he thought it was rather adorable, watching the way you nuzzled into the jacket that was far too big for your frame. he was six foot five after all, you drowned in anything he let you wear.

but he found himself feeling selfish. he selfishly liked the way your perky breasts looked in that pretty blouse and the way your plush thighs could be seen peeking out from between the skirt and the stockings. he couldn't stop looking, couldn't tear his eyes away and stop his imagination from roaming.

so he let you walk back to the hotel, keeping a slight distance behind you so he could watch your body as he pleased, the only sound between you two being the click-clop of your mary jane heels as you walked home.

when you finally got inside, you felt yourself sigh in thought.

sam had been acting awfully quiet since you'd left and you'd begun to worry that you'd done something to upset him.

perhaps the outfit was too revealing, perhaps he wasn't okay with it.

you turned, an apology already on the tip of your lips. "sam―"

before you could utter the words, sam had grabbed you. his lips pushed into your own, a kiss filled with no passion or love, you could taste nothing aside from thick hunger, half a growl from inside his throat.

you whimpered into the kiss, taken by surprise. you felt him grab at you, one hand slid up your back, the other grabbing the back of your head and a fistful of hair along with it. again, a noise escaped you while sam was mindlessly kicking off his shoes, guiding you towards the bed.

to say you were surprised was saying the least, you hadn't expected this.

when he sat you gently against the bed, he finally broke the kiss. you looked up at him with glassy eyes and swollen lips while he tugged his suit jacket off, not bothering to take off his tie completely but only loosen it so it didn't hang so close to his neck. perhaps now he could finally breathe.

your eyes followed him curiously as he bent down, eyes never leaving yours while you stayed sitting on the mattress. you felt his hands pawing at your legs, slipping your mary janes from your feet. his hands gently rubbed at your sock-covered feet, a little reminder of his gentleness, despite the roughness he was suddenly using on you.

his fingers trailed upwards, following the little sewing thread between the fabric of your stockings. when his hands reached the top, he snapped the fabric back, leaving it snap against your thighs. "you're keeping these on." he uttered, he didn't sound like he normally did. he sounded as if he were pent up, desperate for relief. and he was.

you just couldn't seem to understand why.

"sam, why are you―"

you were cut off. "you're jus' so pretty all dressed up, honey." sam was towering over you as he stood, his large hand falling on your face, practically taking up a whole cheek as he cupped it. "'n i was hard all day thinkin' about this. you do wanna make me feel good, don't you, sweetheart?"

he watched as your eyes seemingly got rounder. "i wanna make you feel good, sammy." you caught your bottom lip between your top teeth and he could tell you were being honest, so honest.

willing to do anything to make him feel good, his sweet sweet girl. he would have cooed at you had he not been busy using his thumb to pull your bottom lip from beneath your top teeth. "don't do that, baby." he watched as you nodded silently. "good girl, i'll give you something to wrap those pretty lips around, don't worry."

he could see your face slowly building a flush, that kind of blush that had him reeling. he liked when he got you like this, all flustered and squirming. which you were, squirming in your seat with your thighs pushing together.

sam was well aware that if he were to reach up your skirt now, he would find a little wet circle sitting on your satin panties.

but instead, he used his hands to pull his own trousers from him. they were sitting tightly on his hips and when he finally pulled them down, you could see his bulge sticking out from his black boxers.

you gulped, hands playing together in your lap. you wanted to look back up at sam but you couldn't seem to tear your eyes away from him, too engrossed by his dick to think of anything else.

"'s how i felt all day, sweetheart." his voice was a whisper now. "you were teasin' me 'n i couldn't do anything about it. do you know how mean that is?"

your eyes snapped up to his, filling with this red glassiness. "w-what?" you didn't want to be mean to sam. he was so good to you, always making you feel good, you wanted nothing more than to be good to him. "'m sorry sammy, 'm really sorry."

"awh, i know, baby." his thumb swiped against your cheek, playing around with your face as if you were dough, thumb dragging across your bottom lip. "you just wanna be my good girl, yeah?"

you nodded quickly. "mmhm, wanna be your good girl, sammy, 'm sorry. 'm really sorry."

"i don't know, you were very bad today." his constant teasing as only making your panties wetter, that tone he was using on you, the one that he knew got you all flustered. "if i give you a second chance, are you gonna be good?"

"uh-huh, 'be so good, sammy, i promise. please, ill be good." you were begging now, eyes as big as saucers and lips wet.

he didn't bother pretending to think about it, he just leaned down, so far that his face was in line with yours, lips against your ear as he softly whispered the words, "then get onto your knee's 'n show me."

when sam winchester told you to do something, you did it, no questions asked.

you'd touched him like this many times before, you on your hands and knees on the mattress while he stood on the ground. he thought it was the most comfortable spot for the both of you, seeing as he was so big.

you did as you were told, moving so you were on your hands and knees against the mattress. your hands moved up to his waist, eyes snapping to his. he watched you intently as you brought your lips to his clothed cock, pressing a pretty kiss against it before using your fingers to pull down his underwear.

you did it without fail every single time.

every time he had you on your knees with his cock in your mouth, you started off with that pretty kiss to his boxers. there was something sickly sweet about it that had his eyes already rolling backwards. it was almost an innocent and naive act of love towards him, laced with lust.

you were on just your knees now, pushing his boxers down with no help from him. his dick sprung free and you could see an idle line of precum dripping down his shaft. instinctively, your hand moved up, thumb swiping the precum and smoothing it over the head of his dick. the act alone caused a grunt to leave his lips.

as pretty as you looked, all curious and ready to take your time, sam simply wasn't having it tonight.

he was too pent up from your silly outfit and his own mindless thoughts that he couldn't help it.

his hand fell to the side of your head, cupping it as he guided it forward. you knew what he was asking and you wasted no time in sticking out your tongue and licking a kitten lick up his shaft.

"fuck," fell from his lips. "good girl." mumbling as your tongue swirled over his head and your mouth wrapped around his dick. sam was a huge man and his dick was no exception to that. he was huge, too big to fit in your mouth but you pushed him in anyway, only covering a little more than half.

sam knew he was big too, he couldn't help the quirk of his lips as he looked down at you, struggling to fit his size into your mouth. his hand slowly guided your head further onto his cock, letting your lips wrap around him completely, your saliva coating him. it wasn't until you gagged that he knew this was as far as you could go.

so he pushed you a little further, anyway.

you brought your head back out then in again, bobbing it as you tongue swirled against him. you were no stranger to sucking sam off but every time you did it, you found yourself getting nervous. you wanted to be good for him and you were doing your upmost best.

his pretty thing.

"fuck, baby, you're doin' so good f'me." and sam knew exactly what effect his words would have on you. "mmph, look so pretty with your lips around my dick, sweetheart."

you couldn't help but moan on his dick.

and his lips quirked into that sickly sweet smile.

he knew how easily you got wet, how all it took was just a few words and you were a moaning, whining mess. sam thought you deserved a little more for all you were giving him than just a little praise.

and like said before, sam was huge so he reached over, his torso towering a little above your head and his arm reached out, soothing down your lower back.

this wasn't the first time sam had pulled something like this. you knew what to do, stomach sinking onto the bed as you rolled your ass into nothingness, wanting to create some kind of friction while your mouth continued to slowly melt around him, licking and sucking, eyes closed as one hand pumped the part of his dick that your mouth couldn't reach.

you felt his fingers tracing the outline of your satin underwear, pulling up your skirt so he could gain access.

you made a noise of complaint, knowing that if he touched you, you wouldn't be able to focus properly on touching him. sam only used his free hand to push your head onto his dick and make you gag again.

he liked watching you fall apart, especially with his dick stuffed in your mouth.

he loved watching the way your body had to bend for him to be able to stick his fingers into your gaping whole, watching as you desperately rolled your hips, wanting him him him. you wanted to feel him. taste him. smell him. he was all consuming, you wanted him to take over your every sense.

and he always did, without complaint.

you were wet, undeniably so, he could feel it through the satin material that he pulled back, getting access to your aching pussy. "there you go, sweetheart, tha's it." while easing two fingers into your hole.

you felt like a slut.

he had you completely and utterly full.

"'s that nice, baby? y'feel so warm." both with your mouth against his dick and your soaking wet hole. "you're so pretty for me, you know that, angel?"

he knew you couldn't respond, only whining and whimpering against his throbbing cock. "you're my good girl, aren't you?" he felt you whine, vibrations spreading through him and he also felt your pussy squeeze against his fingers. he grinned at that. "you like that, honey? like thinkin' about how you're my good girl, yeah? all mine, baby, you're all mine."

and you really were. before sam, you wouldn't look at a boy sideways let alone be like this.

you groaned into him, ass rolling against his fingers while your own free hand moved down. you continued sucking his dick while using your nimble fingers to play with your clit.

and that was enough for sam to let out a moan. "oh, baby, you look so pretty playing with yourself while―shit―sucking my cock."

your eyes rolled back, feeling of pleasure coating you while your soft lips bobbed up and down, fingers tracing him and yourself.

"'m gonna cum, sweetheart." a warning, though he knew you wouldn't move anyway. "you gonna be a good girl 'n cum on my fingers while you suck my cock, huh, baby?"

he felt you absentmindedly nod, too fucked out to think straight while feeling a familiar knot deep in your stomach.

your whines got louder and he felt himself nearing the edge. the sight of you, blissed out while sucking his cock, his fingers stuffed into your hole making you feel all full... he couldn't help but let go.

at the same time, he felt your gummy walls clenching around his fingers, wet juices sliding down his hand while spurts of squirt left your pussy every time his fingers pumped in and out of you, riding out your high.

"good girl, good girl. that's it, baby. oh fuck. yeah, my good girl. there you go." he was in awe, watching you squirt around his fingers, the wet feeling as it spurted out from your pussy, decorating the bedsheets in your juices while your pretty socks got ruined in the mess.

when he finally finished, he pulled his fingers out of you, letting you lean back as you parted your lips to show him his cum all over your tongue, spread messily in your mouth.

his hand was on your face, eyes strained on your mouth as he watched you close your lips and swallow like the good girl you were, swiping his thumb against your bottom lip.

he pushed his two fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself. while your eyes rolled back, all fucked out and dumb.

"think we have some time before dean gets back, yeah?" eyes already scanning your body and letting his imagination get the better of him.

he just watched your blissed out face nod, cheeks flushed. "mmhm hmph."

he wasn't done with you just yet.

main masterlist/sam's masterlist

[zeppelinlvr]

"Better?" "Much"

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: waking up next to Dean and getting ready with him

Notes: I promise I'll give Sam some love after this, I love the idea that Dean acts like a dad when he gets up, hacking, coughing, groaning, the whole nine yards. I wanted to thank you guys again for all of the support, you're all so sweet! 💗💗

warnings: cursing, dean and reader playfully argue, kissing, lots of fluff, reader goes to the bathroom while dean is in there, but I promise its nothing gross or weird 😔

w.c: 1k

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The rising sun shone through a crack in the curtains of the motel room. You stirred awake, the light managing to hit you right in the eye. Dean lay next to you, softly snoring, drooling lightly and laying in a position that couldn't possibly be comfortable. You grimaced for him and the thought of how bad his neck was going to hurt when he woke up.

Sam was already awake, he still sat in his pajamas but he was sipping on a cup of coffee and had his computer open, researching as he typically did. He noticed you waking up and gave you a soft smile, not wanting to wake Dean.

You weren't exactly an early riser so you cuddled into Dean, burying your face into his side, trying to block out the light. You found yourself struggling to breathe and let out a sigh, knowing you weren't going to be able to fall back asleep.

Dean groaned as he awoke, grunting as his vision cleared and he noticed your face smushed into him.

“You trying to smell my pits or something?” he said with a small laugh, his voice slightly hoarse from having just woke up

“Love the pheromones” you replied sarcastically and brought your head up to look at him.

His hair was tousled and he had pushed half of the blanket off the bed in his sleep but he looked handsome as ever. Your hair was a mess, the shirt you slept in was twisted around your body, and your sleep shorts were riding up like crazy but Dean still thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world, simultaneously enjoying how your legs and ass looked when your shorts rode up.

Both of you were wild sleepers, flipping around in the night, blankets and pillows being pushed off the bed, Dean waking up in a panic when you would jerk in your sleep, and you hitting Dean with your pillow when his snores would grow too loud. The two of you would go to bed cuddling every night and wake up with your arm sprawled over his face and his legs on your side of the bed. Neither of you would have it any other way.

You moved yourself so your head rested on his chest, he brought his arm around you and placed a kiss to the top of your head.

“What's our next move Sammy?” Dean asked, “you found anything yet?”

“There's signs of vampires in Carterville Missouri, it’ll take us about five hours to get there though, so we should head out soon.”

“I can get us there in four, as long as grandma here doesn't have to pee every half hour” he said as he motioned towards you.

“I’m not the one who needs to stop for snacks constantly” you defended “and since you want to be Kevin Harvick with how fast you drive, you can make up the lost time from my bathroom breaks”

“Why do you guys just wake up arguing?” Sam asked

“We didnt, he kissed me then we started arguing” you defended with a sweet smile

“Yeah, come on Sam” Dean added

The two of you received an eye roll from Sam “go get ready, we can leave in an hour” he told both of you.

Dean sat up with a loud groan earning a response of “You sound like a father and you're not even one” from you.

“What are you talking about”

“All dads sound like they're dying when they get out of bed, all that loud groaning and back popping makes me think you need to go to the chiropractor.” you told him

“Alright sweetheart” he responded not even bothering to give in to what you were talking about, and gave you a kiss. You scrunched your nose after he pulled away.

“You need to brush your teeth” you giggled

“Same goes for you”

The two of you got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, brushing your teeth at the same time. Dean was at it again with his noises, he was hacking and spitting like there was no tomorrow while he brushed his teeth.

“Jesus, you dont have to kill yourself with the toothbrush you know” You told him after you rinsed your mouth out.

“Teeth won’t be clean if I don't brush em like this” he told you, muffled by his mouth full of toothpaste.

“Okay Dean, I’m gonna pee while you finish up” you said and sat down on the toilet, Dean gave you a nod with his toothbrush still dangling out of his mouth. You scoffed and then laughed at him, unable to take him seriously with his extensive morning routine.

“You look so helpless when you pee” he said

“What are you talking about” you asked with a laugh

“You just sit there like you're waiting for a bus, it makes me feel bad” he explained “at least I can stand up and put my hand on the wall or something.”

You shook your head at his observation, laughing at how ridiculous it was.

The two of you finished up in the bathroom and made your way to your bags to get changed. Sam went to the bathroom to clean up, having already changed. You opted for a tee shirt, jeans, and a jacket you had stolen from Dean. Dean put on attire similar to yours, adding a few more layers than you had chosen to.

Dean made his way over to you and kissed you sweetly, his lips lips plush against yours. He brought one of his hands up to the side of your head, toying with your hair with his fingers. He placed his other hand on your waist, rubbing his thumb back and forth along your hip. You brought your hand under his shirt, lightly scratching along his back, earning a soft groan from him. You knew he was a sucker for you scratching his back, always asking you to when the two of you laid in bed, or after he'd had a long day. You smiled into the kiss at the noise he had made. Your moment with Dean, that was much needed by both of you, was cut short by Sam clearing his throat, your face heated upon hearing him and you quickly pulled away from Dean.

“My breath better?” Dean asked a grin playing at his face

“Much” you told him with a small smile, his minty taste still lingering on your lips.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

[ohsc]

₊˚⊹♡ letting you | sam winchester x reader

a/n - this might be the fastest i’ve ever written a fic??? it’s pure filth so that might be why but LMAO, i love love love the idea of soft dom sam sm he melts my brain, hopefully this is good!! getting back into writing after taking a break from being sick bc my brain wouldn’t work. special thanks to my friend who helped me brainstorm the delicious idea ilysm !! <3

cws - fem!reader, 1.6k, nsfw 18+, softdom!sam, sub!reader, cockwarming, masturbation, praise, kinda unedited

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The only thing she could hear was Sam’s soft breathing, and the soft tap tap tap of his laptop keys behind her.

If she paid close enough attention, she could hear the way his shirt rustled when he moved his arms, the soft fluttering of book pages being turned, but her focus wasn’t really attainable, it was slipping through her fingers with each excruciating moment that she was sat there.

Sam shifted in his seat out of a pure intention to get comfortable, and his cock nudged deeper inside of her wet heat, dragged a soft gasp from her lips, which just earned her a soft “shh, honey” against the shell of her ear.

It had been her fault that she was in that position in the first place. She’d been a little too needy with Sam when he was trying to research, and on her third attempt at trying to initiate a — much needed, mind you — make out, he’d grabbed her hips and tugged her into his lap facing him. His voice had been a little stern as he told her to pull his cock out, and the tone of his voice alone had her cunt clenching around nothing as she quickly did as she’d been asked. She knew that voice, she’d had it in her ear most nights, whispered against her throat, against the plush of her thighs. It meant he was in control.

Sam had sat back from the library's table for enough time for her to pull his cock out and pull aside her panties, sank down onto him with a soft moan, but before she could move he grabbed her hips tightly, kept her still.

“Don’t move,” he’d dipped his head down and kissed her throat, pulse fluttering beneath his lips. “Stay there while I finish up and I’ll take care of you after, hm?”

If she was feeling a bit more bratty she would’ve whined or complained or just moved anyways, but his voice in her ear and his hands on her hips had her head spinning, so she just nodded and tucked her head against his throat as he leaned over her to continue what he was doing, completely focused, as if he wasn’t buried deep inside her pussy at that moment.

That had been twenty minutes ago.

It was becoming torturous.

Sam was unfairly skilled at keeping composed. He was also unfairly skilled at winding her up. Those two went hand in hand, it seemed, because each second that passed just worked her up more and more. All she could focus on was the warmth of his body pressed to hers, his cock nestled deep inside of her, the lack of stimulation. When she’d came out to the library with her attempt at bothering him, she’d craved a genuine release, not this.

Her hips shifted slightly and she squeezed her eyes shut, huffed out a soft “Sammy” against his throat when that slight movement was enough for her pussy to throb around him.

“Stay still.” He murmured without as much of a look in her direction. She glanced up at him and his eyes were locked forwards, pupils shifting left to right as he read whatever was displayed on his laptop screen. Tap tap tap, more pages turned, more reading, rinse, repeat. He was killing her.

Barely a minute had passed before she made another soft sound against the warm skin of his throat, lips brushing his neck, “Baby please-”

“My hands are busy, sweetheart,” his voice was so nonchalant it drove her up the wall. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Her eyes squeezed shut as she huffed against his throat again. “Can you just take a break?”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I’m almost done, you’ll just have to wait,” he tsked, a hand briefly pet her hair, the touch so light it was like he was purposely depriving her of any stimulation. “If you’re that needy, you have two hands of your own, baby. Sort yourself out until I’m finished with this.”

She released a shuddered breath against his throat, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. It wasn’t the answer she’d wanted.

“Hey,” one of his hands came up to the side of her neck and he pressed his thumb against her jaw, tilted her head back until he could meet her eyes. “I told you I’d sort you out once I finished, didn’t I?”

She nodded, bit the inside of her cheek.

“So isn’t it nice of me that I’m letting you get yourself off in the meantime?”

Letting you. Her cunt throbbed again.

“Yeah.” She whispered.

Sam leaned down and kissed her, just a soft little peck, and somehow it just riled her up more. “I’ll be done soon. Go ahead and sort yourself out for me, sweetheart.”

He let go of her jaw and moved his arms to the table again, continued tapping at his laptop, and her eyes scrunched closed again as she tipped forward and rested her forehead against his throat. But she was so needy that she didn’t think twice about following his instructions. One hand stayed tucked at his waist, fingers curled into the soft material of his flannel, and her other reached between them and tucked under the material of her shirt, fingering at the waistband of her panties until she slipped beneath those too, and she was so fucking wet that she was undoubtedly making a mess of his jeans from just sitting there.

Her fingers dipped down, pressed against her clit, and she shuddered as the stimulation made her clench around his cock deliciously. She pressed her fingers forwards again, started to shamelessly rub herself, exhaled soft little moans and sighs against his throat.

Before she could do anything else Sam’s voice was in her ear again, “Quiet, sweetheart. You’re meant to be letting me work, don’t make me tell you to stop.”

Her jaw clenched as she exhaled shakily, eyes squeezed shut, and she huffed a breath against his throat as she took a moment to compose herself. Now that she’d started touching herself, it’d just be a torture to stop, so she just nodded against his throat with the intent to keep herself quiet.

It took a moment for her to settle on a pace. She was a bit too needy with it, her hand squished between their bodies, knuckles pressed to his hard muscles each time she shifted her hand, but eventually she settled into a pace that had her eyes rolled back and squeezed shut, the fingers of her other hand curled tightly into the material of his flannel.

She circled her clit with the pads of her fingers again and again, but it was the feeling inside of her every time her cunt clenched around his cock that made it hard for her to keep quiet. She was half tempted to bite down on his collar to shut herself up, but Sam seemed to be letting her get away with the slight gasps and whimpers that she couldn’t stop herself letting up.

It took an embarrassingly short time for her to get close — her forehead was pressed to his throat, hot breaths puffed out against his skin, trying not to shift her hips as she rubbed at her clit with a need that thrummed within her veins. Her jaw clenched and she held her breath, eyes squeezed shut tighter as she worked herself closer.

“Breathe,” Sam’s breath tickled her ear as he spoke softly. She had a tendency to hold her breath when she came sometimes if she was especially worked up — she didn’t even know Sam was paying attention. She took a shuddery breath, and he murmured a soft, “that’s it.”

It only took a few more circles on her clit before she came and she grit her teeth, huffed out a sharp breath through her nose as the feeling washed over her. Her cunt pulsed in pleasure, waves that kept her rubbing at her clit until it felt too much, and when she finally stopped she was breathing sharply against his neck. Her hand was a bit cramped, fingers wet, heartbeat drumming, but the release felt so nice after she’d been so worked up.

“Good girl,” Sam crooned, and she could’ve cum again at the tone of his voice. “Good girl. Did that help?”

She nodded against his throat, relaxed into his front.

“Yeah?” He asked. “Are you gonna keep still until I’m finished now?”

She nodded again.

“Baby,” she felt his hand smooth up her back until his fingers delicately tangled in her hair, only enough to pull her head back to look at him. “I wanna hear you say it.”

She blinked a few times up at him. He was so devastatingly handsome, it wasn’t fair. “I’ll keep still,” she mumbled, face feeling far too hot. “Promise.”

“Oh, you promise?” She didn’t miss the teasing edge to his words, the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

She nodded again. “Yeah, Sammy.”

“Good girl,” he praised once more, and was nice enough to give her a proper kiss that time. It still wasn’t what she craved — she didn’t feel his tongue in her mouth, he didn’t kiss her until she went dizzy — but it was nicer and kinder than a little peck. “Ten minutes and I’m all yours.”

She settled back into his chest as he went back to work, comfy to just rest against him in her post-orgasm euphoria, happy to wait the ten minutes until he was finished. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fucked her on the library table that week.

[cherrygirlfriend]

⟡ ₊ . ༄.° safe in your arms

pairing: dean winchester x reader synopsis: reader wakes up from a nightmare and dean comforts her tags/warnings: smut, oral (fem. receiving), fluff, MDNI! wc: 1.4k a/n; not only does dean eat box, but he eats it backwards, forwards, sideways, on his knees, on his tippytoes, in the morning, in the evenings, at night, in the middle of the day, in the bunker, in the impala, in- you get the gist. thank you to babycakes @gibson-g1rl for giving me the idea w the panties holy lordy ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

dean winchester masterlist ♡

dean was never the kind to be a deep sleeper. when you first got together and started sharing a bed, every little thrash you'd made in your sleep was enough to startle him awake, and the first few times it happened, the man had reached under his pillow for his gun.

overtime, though, he got used to you sleeping in his arms, managing to sleep through nearly anything, your movements, squirming around in his arms, the small whines and snores you let out in your sleep, even the occasional times you'd start talking in your sleep about the peanut butter monster.

so, it was odd when he was startled awake in the middle of the night, your warm body nestled in his arms, dean's heart racing. he looked down, smiling fondly at you as his heartbeat started settling down. he sighed, pressing a soft kiss on top of your head, only to realize that the noises you were making weren't the normal whimpers you'd make in your sleep.

your little whimpers were a higher pitch, your breathing was heavy and he could make out soft mumbles of, 'help' as well as his own name leaving your lips.

"sweets?" dean said softly, gently shaking you, "baby, wake up."

after a few more shakes, you were startled awake, your eyes flicking open as you sat up in bed, looking at him with wide eyes, heavy breaths leaving your lips as your heart raced against your chest. you brought your hand to your heart, as if willing it to calm down.

"sorry..." you sigh, your voice still heavy with sleep "did i wake you?"

"don't apologize, silly." dean looked at you with furrowed brows, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "did you have a nightmare, baby?"

you nodded as you settled back into his arms, starting to draw small patterns on his bare chest, a small shiver running down his spine at the contact as he kissed the top of your hear, "you wanna talk about it?"

"just..." a small sigh left your lips, "you were nowhere to be found. that... scared me. It made me feel like you were... actually gone." you swallowed, looking up into dean's eyes as if you were searching for something in the small yellow flecks surrounded by a sea of green, "i don't know what i'd do if you were. i'm so... used to your presence in my life."

his lips twisted into a small smile and he let out a small tut, eyes following his calloused as fingers as they traced the chain of the necklace he'd gotten you for your birthday, "well, sweet girl," he started, looking up into your eyes, his eyes crinkling, "good thing i'm not going anywhere."

"promise?"

"promise." dean pressed a kiss to your lips that was all too fleeting, it always feeling like no matter how many times he pressed his lips on yours, it would never be long enough. his hand traced the strap of your nightgown, "you know what i hear helps with nightmares, sweets?"

"oh? and what's that?"

"orgasms."

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head, "and where'd you read that?"

"oh, it was... some science-nerdy magazine thing sammy had laying around. you wouldn't like it. so, wanna give it a try?"

"mmm... who am i to decline some scientific research?"

dean grinned and knelt down on the bed, watching you with a gleam in his eyes as you settled back in bed, your brows raised as if you were challenging him, egging him on.

one thing about dean was that he never rushed when it came to you, and especially when it came to pleasuring you. one of your legs was hooked over his shoulder as his lips made their way up from your ankle at a tortuously slow pace, until they met your knee, one of his hands holding onto your thigh as he drew small, slow circles on your inner thigh that had you clenching around nothing.

from your knee, he kissed up your inner thigh, and it felt like your entire body was clenched in anticipation, each hot press of his lips against your skin making you feel like you were going to die if you didn't feel him right at that moment.

as dean's lips got closer and closer to where you needed him the most, he pushed up the hem of your nightgown until it rested rumpled just over the hills of your breasts. the hand that had pushed your nightwear up kneaded your breast for a moment, your nipple pebbling under his rough hand.

you arched into him once you finally felt his calloused fingers pressing on the damp spot in your lace panties, the man letting out a soft chuckle against the warm skin of your inner thigh, his thumb drawing circles on your puffy clit through the lacy fabric.

"fuck, sweets..." dean groaned as he pressed his nose right at the darkened spot he'd caused, breathing in the scent of your arousal, "she's always so needy for me, huh?" he chuckles, increasing the speed of his thumb.

he flicked his tongue out to taste the patch of fabric with a hum, causing a shiver to run down your spine, "dean..." you whined, as he firmly pressed the fabric of your underwear against your pussy, watching as your arousal started to soak through the fabric. dean ran his finger through your lace-covered slit over and over again until it was practically molded to the shape of your lips.

darting his tongue out, he ran it up the length of your cunt, causing you to let out a gasp as his long fingers teased your entrance through the lace.

"taste s'damn good even through these things..." dean groaned against your pussy, pressing kisses on your clothed folds, "but i think we should take 'em off, huh?" he chuckled, "these must be ruined to all hell, dont'c'ha think?"

"mmhm..." you hummed, your half-lidded eyes watching as dean practically peeled your soaked panties off, slowly sliding them down your legs, looking at the pair with a grin before discarding them, "those are definitely ruined, sweetie."

this time, dean didn't even take a moment to get to where you were aching for him, his eyes glossing over as he looked down at your cunt, practically glistening from how much you needed him. he laid down between your thighs, his muscular arms wrapped around your thighs as he presses a kiss right next to your clit, his stubble tickling your inner thigh, "s'good..."

you let out a surprised yelp when dean immediately started to lap up some of your arousal with his tongue, swirling his tongue around your clit. your hands went to his hair, gripping onto it for your own sanity.

he sucked the puffy bud into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, two of dean's fingers teasing your entrance, gathering some of your wetness before pushing the long digits into you slowly, inch by agonizing inch.

dean thrusted his fingers in and out of you until he finally found a pace that was good for him, one that caused you to grip onto his hair even tighter, that made your legs shake.

you arched into his mouth; you had no idea how he did it; how he managed to touch you in just the right way, to bring you to the edge so easily. every touch made you wish it could last forever, while also knowing that you couldn't take it any longer.

"dean..." you whine, feeling yourself starting to clench around his fingers, "dean, i'm gonna-"

"shhh..." he mumbled against your clit, as if he was too enamored by the taste of you to detach himself from it, to detach himself from you. "just let it happen."

and as you finally felt the pleasure that he'd been building up drop, you let out fervent moans of his name, your hand tugging him closer to your core, the pace of his fingers slowing down as you clenched around them, causing the man to let out a tsk.

after you had finally come down from your orgasm, dean licked a few more stripes up your pussy, mumbling something about 'cleaning up', before his face was right above yours, his lips and chin covered in your arousal as if he had just eaten the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted, his lips twisted up into a grin.

"so, think that'll help you with your nightmares, sweets?

[dreamlanderin]

Dean's baby (Dean x reader)

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

words: 2.7k

Warnings: none

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

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

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

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

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

You’d caught yourself staring, a lot.

Anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Research with Sam.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not a chance in hell."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it is.

"Thanks, Dean”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[wchswift]

Gossiping with Dean ༉‧₊˚ 

The other day my best friend and I were in a parking lot and a couple in the car next to us started arguing and it just made our afternoon even more interesting. Afterwards, all I could think about was Dean, because I'm sure he and I would gossip a lot together. So I just decided to write a drabble about it... This is my first drabble so apologies if it's not the best <3

mdni 𖤐 18+

The motel room was quiet except for the rhythmic creak of the ceiling fan. Dean leaned back on the bed, his boots crossed at the ankles, looking equal parts bored and restless. The flickering TV had finally given up, leaving the two of you with nothing but static and silence.

“This is boring,” you mumbled, poking Dean’s side. "Guess we'll have to entertain ourselves."

Dean smirked, glancing over at you. "I can think of a few ways—"

You cut him off with a playful shove, laughing. "Keep it in your pants, Winchester." Rising from the bed, you peeked through the curtains. “Why don’t you come over here? At least there’s people-watching.”

Dean groaned but pushed himself up, ambling over to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms loosely around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. “What’s so riveting out there?”

Then movement caught your eye. In the far corner of the lot, a car rocked slightly as voices rose from within. A man and a woman were locked in a heated argument, their hands gesturing wildly through the windows.

“Oh, this is better than TV,” Dean said, grinning. “What’s the bet?” he asked. “He forgot their anniversary?”

“Or she found his burner phone,” you replied with a grin.

Dean chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Classic. Always check the glovebox.”

The two of you settled in, throwing theories back and forth like kids trading secrets. The drama unfolded below, oblivious to its peanut gallery. You leaned closer to Dean, and he tilted his head toward yours, the moment cozy despite the spectacle.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Sam walked in carrying a bag of takeout. He froze, eyebrows furrowing as he took in the sight of you and Dean cuddling together while pressed against the window like nosy neighbors.

"What are you two doing?" Sam asked, setting the bag on the table.

"Research," Dean said with a smirk, not bothering to move.

"On?"

"Human behavior," you chimed in, barely stifling a laugh. "Fascinating stuff, really."

Sam shook his head, grabbing a soda from the bag. "You two are ridiculous."

"Admit it, Sammy. You wanna know what happens next," Dean teased.

Sam rolled his eyes, but as he sat down to eat, you noticed him glance toward the window. Dean shot you a knowing grin, and the two of you silently agreed: sometimes, the best entertainment came free with the room.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[shanastoryteller]

The day his deal comes due, Sam goes missing.

Dean tells himself it’s nothing, that he’s gotten caught up in some research, some last ditch, hail mary nonsense and that he’s just turned his phone off and everything’s fine, that he wouldn’t do something stupid, that he wouldn’t break his promise.

He tells himself that for the first two minutes after he cracks his eyes open and sees the empty bed across from him, and the first time his call goes straight to voicemail, and not much after that. Sam’s broken his promises over things significantly less important to him than his brother’s life.

Dean is dressed and in the Impala five minutes later, heart thudding wildly in his chest. He calls Bobby, Ellen, everyone he can think of, but none of them have heard from Sam, none of them have eyes on him. Sam was with him last night, even if he boosted a car, there’s only so far he can get.

He keeps calling, keep searching, desperate to stop whatever he’s trying to do, to find him, to see his brother one last time before he’s dragged to hell. To make sure Sam is going to be okay after he’s dragged to hell. But the hours tick down, the sun sets, and he can’t find a trace of him. He’s so exhausted and heart sick that when he goes to call Sam again it takes him a long time to read the number on his phone, eyes swimming, the time not making any sense.

1:03

That’s not possible.

That’s not –

His phone rings, blocking out the time with Bobby’s name across the screen, and he answers it but his throat is too thick to say anything.

“Dean?” Bobby says tentatively. “Are you – I got an email from Sam. It just said, I mean, did–“

“What did it say, Bobby?” he asks, even though he’s sure he knows.

Bobby sucks in a breath at his voice, because he knows just as well as Dean that he should be screaming in hell right now, not answering his phone. “To take care of you.”

Dean drops the phone, hears Bobby still talking as he grips the wheel and presses his forehead against the back of his hands. This is what he’d been afraid of. This is why he hadn’t wanted to mess with the deal in first place. This is the one thing he’d begged Sam not to do.

It's easy to find a crossroad.

The demon is laughing at him when it shows up, wicked grin in a pretty face. “That didn’t take you long, boy.”

It’s a different demon than the one he delt with, obviously, but Dean figures they all know the same shit, since demons are a bunch of gossips. “This wasn’t the deal. My brother lives and I die.”

“You traded your soul for your brother’s life,” she corrects, so amused by all this that all he wants to do is kill her, to exorcise her, to make her scream. “Just like your father traded his for yours. There’s no reason Sammy can’t make his own trade. Man, but is your family fucked up. Maybe if you’d just settled down like little Sammy wanted, you wouldn’t all be bargaining for each other’s lives like haggling at a flea market.”

“Untrade it,” he snaps. “My soul for him alive, come on, no year, no waiting, you bring him back and take me to hell right now.”

She laughs in his face. “You don’t have anything to bargain with, boy.”

“My soul,” he repeats, “That’s what this is about, isn’t?”

“Oh, it’s what it’s all about,” she says. “But Sammy’s a clever boy. You know that, don’t you? He didn’t trade his soul for your life, he didn’t have to. You didn’t die. No, he traded it for your soul. Sorry, honey, but your credits been declined.”

At first he doesn’t understand. Sam traded his soul for Dean’s, exactly, so there’s no reason he can’t trade it right back. Then he gets it.

She sees the exact moment it clicks, the moment despair and horror sweep across his face too quickly for him to stop them. “That’s right. Little brother owns your soul now. For some reason he didn’t think you’d take proper care of it. You have it because that’s where he wants it, but no one will be making any deals with you, Dean Winchester. You can’t sell a soul you don’t own.”

“You can’t,” he has to clear his throat, “you can’t just come in and change things at the eleventh hour-”

“Eleventh hour?” she interrupts. “Sammy made his deal eleven months ago.”

His mouth is so dry he can’t speak.

“Isn’t it funny?” she asks, head cocked to the side. “All this time, the deal he’s been trying to get out of wasn’t yours, but his own. Maybe the two of you might have even managed it, except you just wouldn’t help, would you? Insisting that he not research, that he not look for a way out, and he spent so much time trying to convince you, coaxing you to talk about your feelings when he knew you were safe, all he because he thought it would make you feel better when he was gone, because he couldn’t tell you the truth and talk about how scared he was, so talking about your fear was as close as he could get.”

Dean’s going to be sick. “Don’t – please, please, I’ll give you anything-”

“You don’t have anything,” she says, gleeful. “You want to know why I agreed? The thing that made it just too delicious to refuse? Sammy’s down there, just starting in on an eternity of torture, and all he has to do get out of it is give up your soul. It’s his, after all, and he can put the original deal back in place any time he chooses. Just one moment of weakness on his end and his beloved big brother will be on the rack instead.” She sighs happily. “It’s almost as good as anything we’re doing to him down there, the knowledge that if he slips up for even a moment then it would all be for nothing. I couldn’t have found a way to twist the knife deeper if I tried.”

There’s vomit crawling its way up his throat and he has to swallow it down before he can speak. “I can’t – I’ll do whatever you want, please, there has to be something.”

She leans forward, cruelty and delight shining in her eyes. “The only thing you can do is what you’ve been telling your precious baby brother to do for the past year. Accept it. Move on. Live a good life so his sacrifice isn’t in vain.”

God. How can she – how can Sammy expect him to –

He’s doubling over, finally upchucking what little he’s ate today, and he’s dry heaving on the dirt when he hears the fading sound of her laughter.

This can’t be real. This has to be Hell, he has to be in it right now. He has to be.

[minettacreekk]

sam winchester is a MUNCH in bed. no questions about it.

warnings: light smut , nicknames (sweetheart, doll, etc.), softdom!sam, praise, probably other stuff but idk 🙏

a/n: HAVENT WROTE IN 4EVA ik its a bit mid but ive been ITCHING to post literally anything

“fuck..” you groan out, feeling sams lips claim your neck as he works his hands up your body to grope your tits. has it always felt this good? or is it the way sam whispers sweet praises into your ear thats pushing you into this fuzzy headspace? “doin’ so good for me baby..” he says bringing his head lower and lower till its mere inches from your already soaked core.

As his large hands grip the inner part of your thighs, spreading them apart for better access, he looks at your cunt like a man starved. “mind if i take care of you tonight sweetheart?”. You knew it wasnt a question as he was going to do it anyway. He grabs your panties and slides them down your legs, discarding them somewhere in yalls room to find later. Bringing his hand up to your pussy, sam begins to start playing with your clit in all the ways he knows will get you worked up. “sam.. please..” you whimper, knowing that he would tease you for the rest of his life if he could. He loves to see you get all squirmy when your stubborn self doesn’t wanna ask for him to do something

“i know doll, always so needy for me huh?” relishing in the fact that you always needed to be by his side. always holding onto his arm whenever possible, or even just sitting next time him white hes researching something. Your breath quickens as he ghosts his long fingers against your slit, pushing one finger, then two into you whilst simultaneously bringing his head down and beginning to suck on your clit.

You gasp at the feeling, instinctively trying to close your legs before his other hand grips your thigh, pushing then back open “need these to stay open or i cant give you what you want baby” he mumbles into your cunt, working his fingers further into you, reaching that one spongey spot that makes you see stars. Your hands once gripping onto the sheets, have found themselves tangled in sams brown locks. He moves his fingers at a steady pace, getting you closer and closer to release. his mouth still suckling on your clit.

“oh my god- sammy..im close-“ you whine out, hips shifting a bit while your becoming unable to control to urge to hold out. Hes still pumping his fingers in and out of you as you get closer and closer to cumming. “go ahead doll, ive got ya” sam assures you. You let out a moan as your back arches slightly, brain going foggy as you ride out your high on his hand. Sam slides his fingers out of your cunt and he pulls himself back up to your lips to kiss you sweetly. “always do so good for me honey” he praises.

“mm love you so much sam..” you say softly eye drifting shut while you start to doze off into a deep, comfortable, safe sleep. Sam cleans you up, and tucks you in before climbing into bed himself.

“love you more sweetheart .” placing a kiss on your forehead before cuddling up next to you snd going to sleeo. Just being around you like this was enough for him to survive off of for years.

• SORRY IT WAS SO SHORT, i rlly needed something to get me back in the habit of this stuff

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Husband Effect

Summary: The reader is struck with a love curse that leaves her feeling more than a bit attached to Dean...

Pairing: Dean x reader (eventual)

Word Count: 2,200ish

Warnings: language, angst, love curse, fluff

A/N: Y’all don’t even want to know how old this fic is. Pretty sure it was written during S13. Figured it was time for it to see the light of day!

__________

“Y/N. Y/N. Giggling woman,” you heard Dean say, clapping his hands together. “Hey! Focus.”

“She’s cursed Dean,” said Sam with a smile. “It was some harmless witchcraft. It’ll wear off soon I’m sure.”

“Is she currently trying to climb into your lap? No?” said Dean, pointing at where he was continually shoving you back from him. “Y/N, stop it.”

“I wanna sit with you,” you whined, throwing your arms over his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against his.

“This is weird,” said Dean, trying to scoot away, Sam biting back back a laugh. “A little help, Sammy!”

“So she’s a little extra clingy. We’ll put her to bed, she’ll sleep it off and in the morning she can be completely embarrassed about this whole thing,” said Sam.

“Why would I be embarrassed about my Deanie?” you asked, squeezing him harder, Dean rising to his feet.

“Come on, Y/N. Off to bed with you. Now.”

“Good morning,” said Sam to you with a teasing smile. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” you said, giving Dean a big hug when he came in the kitchen. “Good morning!”

“Oh no,” said both boys, grimacing as you smushed yourself into Dean’s chest.

“Get the jaws of life for this one,” said Dean, trying to squirm away while you clung tighter. “Y/N, please let go of me so I can eat breakfast.”

“I’m sorry,” you said releasing him, moving your hand down his arm to hold his hand. “That was silly. Your arms are huge by the way. All muscle and strong. They’re so...mmm.”

“Uh huh,” said Dean, giving Sam a death glare. “Sam, your harmless little curse don’t seem so harmless right now.”

“She should have slept it off,” said Sam, taking a seat at the table, Dean pulling you over into one, resigning himself to the fact he wasn’t getting the hand you were holding back anytime soon. “It must be a different curse.”

“No shit. Figure it out for me, would ya? It’s weird having Y/N act all...cuddly,” said Dean.

“Well, she is a girl, Dean,” said Sam.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Dean, your head resting on his shoulder.

“It means she likes hugs and you know, human affection...like a normal person,” said Sam. “You treat her like a guy sometimes.”

“Again, what does that mean?” asked Dean.

“It means when you tell her to buck up and kill the damn spider herself, she comes and asks me to do it. Or when you don’t help her with heavy stuff. She’s tough, don’t get me wrong, but I get the feeling she doesn’t think you care about her nearly half as much as she does you,” said Sam. “...Maybe that’s why she’s only sticking to you. It’s got something to do with that.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, your head lifting up with a smile. “You know I care about you, right?”

“Of course you silly boy,” you said with a smile, bopping him on the nose. “I love you different than Sammy is all.”

“See? She knows,” said Dean, giving you a smile that made your heart flutter.

“You’re so pretty,” you said, Sam rolling his eyes. 

“Hey, Y/N. Why don’t you eat breakfast and then Dean can spend the whole day with you while I figure out how to fix you, huh?” asked Sam.

“The whole day with Dean? That sounds amazing,” you said, leaning up and giving Dean a kiss on the cheek.

“Please hurry Sam.”

One Week Later

“I want Dean,” you grumbled as Sam brought your dinner by your room. “Please? I need him.”

“Dean’s researching right now, Y/N,” said Sam, locking up the door behind him, spotting your barely eaten lunch. “You need to eat, Y/N or Dean won’t be happy.”

“Why do I have to stay in my room? I’m not doing anything wrong,” you said, Sam sighing as he took a seat.

“You’re making it hard to research out there, Y/N. You...you’re kind of all over Dean,” said Sam. “He’s not used to attention like that and it’s making him uncomfortable.”

“But you love him and you get to be near him,” you said, scrunching up your face. “Tell him I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever he wants. I just want to see him. Please.”

“Sweetie, it’s the curse that’s making you all nuts for Dean, you have-”

“I always liked him and now that I came out and said it he’s scared of me. Tell him I take it back. I’ll really try to be better,” you said. 

“If you eat your dinner, I’ll talk to Dean about coming to see you, alright?” asked Sam, watching as you grabbed your fork. “Good girl.”

“Hi,” you said when you saw your door open, a pair of green eyes peeking in. Everything in you wanted to hop off the bed and run over to give him a hug but you said you’d try to keep it under control.

“Sam said you wanted to see me,” said Dean, hanging by the doorway, watching you start to fidget. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine. Are you okay? Can I do anything for you?” you asked, leaning forward and clenching your hands into fists.

“Just give me a hug before you have a heart attack,” said Dean with a sigh, your body responding before your brain, up and over to wrap him up in your arms. “Better?”

“No,” you said. “You don’t like it.”

“I’d rather have a hug because it’s real, not forced,” said Dean, moving your arms away. 

“It is real,” you said, cocking your head up at him. “I want to hug you.”

“No, the curse is making you think you want to hug me,” said Dean with a smile. “There’s a slight difference there, sweetheart.”

“But I love you. Everything I’ve said or done, I always want to do,” you said. “I just...don’t have a filter to say ‘don’t do that anymore.’”

“It’s a curse and we’ll solve it, alright?” said Dean. “I don’t want you to get upset about it. We’ll figure it out and get everything back to normal around here.”

“Dean,” you said, moving forward again, Dean already with a hand on the door.

“I promise, Y/N.”

“I don’t know why it didn’t work but you shouting at me doesn’t fix it!” yelled Sam, both boys in the middle of screaming at one another as you sat in the library, doing your best to stay in your seat.

“It’s been two weeks, Sam. Look at her. She’s barely keeping it together,” said Dean, waving over in your direction.

“If I was under a love curse and the other person resented me, I might start to get upset too, Dean,” said Sam. You got to your feet, forcing them to move away and for your bedroom, your movements slowing as you hit the edge of the library. “See?”

“I’m just going back to my room, Sam,” you said over your shoulder, frozen in place with the need to stay near Dean. 

“It’s got to be that spell. Figure out what you screwed up,” said Dean, his hand on your arm melting away your bubbling anxiety, replacing it with something soft and warm. Dean didn’t immediately leave when he got you back in your room, instead laying down on your bed, turning on your TV and throwing an arm behind his head.

“What are you doing?” you asked, sitting down next to him, curling into his side with a smile.

“I miss you,” he said, moving his arm around your shoulders, a rush of relief flooding you. “...I’ll take care of you. I know it hurts and yeah I’m not used to all this lovey dovey crap but I’m going to help you through it. If letting you crawl all over me makes you feel better, we’ll do that.”

“Hey, bozos,” said Sam, standing at the end of your bed, stirring you awake. “I didn’t mess it up. It’s on a time delay.”

“Well,” said Dean with a yawn. “How long until it works?”

“Judging by the look on Y/N’s face, it already did,” said Sam. You were glancing at your lap, sitting as far away from Dean as possible. “Are you...”

“I want to be alone, please,” you said, Sam nodding his head and leaving. “You too Dean.”

“It’s okay, it was just a curse,” he said, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I told you two weeks ago, Dean,” you said, turning your head over your shoulder. “I don’t love you and Sam the same way. It was a love curse, Dean. All I was trying to do this whole damn time was to make you feel loved.“

“I do feel loved,” said Dean.

“You don’t get it. This isn’t something I can explain to you, Dean. Either you get it or you don’t and you obviously don’t so please give me some space today,” you said.

“I get it,” said Dean, grabbing your wrist and spinning you to face him. “It’s been very clear to me since this whole thing started. I don’t want you to want me though.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me. It’s my life,” you said, trying to shake him off. “Dean...”

“It’s different when’s it’s staring you right in the face and you can’t run away, right? To know that deep down that what someone is saying is true?” he asked.

“If you got hit with that curse, what are the odds that everything you’re spewing out is bull and you do want me but are too scared to say it,” you said. Dean was silent, dropping your hands as you nodded your head. “So what do you want to do about this?”

“If you want to...try, I guess I’m cool with that,” said Dean, shrugging like you were discussing dinner.

“Cool with it?” you asked.

“I ain’t turning into a Hallmark card anytime soon,” said Dean, holding up his hands. “But...your hugs aren’t so bad.”

“Ah, yes. Your definitely wooing me, Dean,” you said, shaking your head.

“Y/N, I’m trying,” said Dean.

“I know. We’ll...take it one day at a time.”

One Year Later

“Hey, you guys remember that freaky curse that made Y/N stick to you like glue?” asked Sam at lunch one day. 

“Yeah,” said Dean. “What about it?”

“Well...I translated another spell that references it,” said Sam. “It was used back in the day to help men find wives.”

“That seems like a douche move,” you said, leaning back against the wall, tossing your legs in Dean’s lap.

“No, no. Not like that. It was meant for when a guy loved somebody but was too shy or insecure to say something. If the person didn’t have a reaction, they didn’t feel the same way. If they did, then it sort of proved there was something there,” said Sam.

“It took you a year to find this out?” you asked, Sam shrugging. “Why do I feel like you’re lying Samuel...”

“You know, we never did find out who put such a strangely harmless curse on Y/N either,” said Dean, crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you Sammy?”

“Not a clue,” he said with a smile, glancing back at forth. “Weird, right?”

“I’ll get my fiance to kick your ass you ever pull something like that again,” said Dean.

“I’m really good at kicking ass,” you said, Sam shaking his head.

“I got no idea what you guys are talking about,” said Sam, standing up with a stretch. “I think I’m going to go for a second run while I think about who could have ever done this to you two.”

“Want to destroy him later?” asked Dean, wearing a smirk once he was out of earshot.

“Of course. Not too badly though,” you said.

“Just a touch of destruction for our devious Sammy coming right up,” said Dean with a chuckle. “While we’re at it, it’s been a year since our first date tonight.”

“You got something special planned?” you asked.

“Obviously,” he said. “Mess with Sammy first though?”

“You read my mind.”

[stargazedwinchester]

The Stars Told Me About You ♡ Dean

Summary: Dean confesses his feelings for you. Word Count: 647

Dean parks the Impala outside of the entrance of the motel, the neon sign flickering just enough for you to notice if you stare at it long enough. It’s late, so the drive back to the motel started off full of banter and conversation, for it to die down only an hour into the drive. This hunt included yourself and Dean. Sam stayed back due to needing to do more research involving another case.

Dean turns the engine off, the Impala hums gently as it settles down for the night. The night is still bright. Countless stars pin themselves with the indigo shades that decorate the sky. The hunt went exceptionally well… maybe a little too well. Yourself and Dean know that you both work extremely well together, possibly more so with Sam. But being able to share private time with Dean proves that hunting with one of them is much easier than hunting with both.

Dean sighs deeply, rubbing his eyes then brushing his hands over his face. You yawn, and Dean looks over at you. He looks as if he wants to say something, but is unsure where to start. You look back at him, a smile forming on your face. “What?” You question, and he shakes his head. “Nothin’,” he hesitates, “y’know, it’s a lot easier hunting when I know you’re around.” His eyes gleam at you, surprisingly you can see how bright and gorgeous his eyes are in such dim light. “Don’t get me wrong, Sammy is great too, but…” Dean trails, running a hand through his hair. “I appreciate your help. A lot.”

“Thanks, Dean. You’re not too bad yourself.” You chuckle. Dean’s eyes are still on you. A small smirk grows on his face, his plump lips framing his face perfectly. “I’ve got your back, no matter what. Always.” He stalls, and the air fills with an unexpected stillness. Dean’s sudden sincerity is unsettling; he’s usually laid-back after a short hunt. He would typically head straight to bed, but at this moment, you sense something is amiss.

You’re finding it difficult to look anywhere but directly at Dean, his shining eyes scanning your face, absorbing your beauty and even the smallest features that only Dean knows to love. He inches closer, placing a hand on the bottom of your jawline, his thumb rubbing over your cheek. “I really like you, Y/N,” he breathes, “Like, really.” He states, glancing down at your lips. Your hearts racing, instantly wanting to reciprocate your feelings to him. Your childlike smile previews your genuine passion for Dean, seeing how he’s let his guard down to let you know how he truly feels makes you wonder how long he’s felt this way. You can tell he cares, he’ll still want to protect you no matter the cost, but now, it’s different.

You graze your top lip with his bottom one, feeling a slight gasp coming from him. Dean latches on and pulls you closer for a soft, passionate kiss. It feels like the butterflies in your stomach have escaped and somehow travelled to your head; the endorphins exploding like a thousand tiny fireworks. You caress his cheekbone, you can feel he’s tense, as if he’s never done this before. You pull away, but keep your lips close to his, the tips of your noses touching. “Relax,” you hush, placing a delicate peck on his lips, and he lets out a breathy sigh. “You make me nervous, man,” Dean half-jokes, his nervous chuckle makes you smile. You kiss him once more before moving away. “Come on, let’s go inside.” You open the passenger side door, then turn around and glance at Dean, who’s still sitting in the driver’s side. “You can stay with me tonight.”

Dean’s eyes light up like a kid in a candy store, before rushing to exit the vehicle and join you in your room.

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Whiskey on the Tongue

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You are the forbidden fruit Dean had always wanted to taste, and when you steal his whiskey the way you do, he is powerless to resist.

Words: 2.2k

A/N: This is my first ever Supernatural fic after having started watching the show just before Christmas. I know I'm late to the game but is it ever really too late to start loving a fandom? I've tried to make the reader generic in every way other than being cis-female, and Dean finding her hot.

It's been an absolute age since I wrote anything and probably longer since I posted anything here on Tumblr but I'm getting back into it now. Hopefully this finds its way to people in the Supernatural fandom who love a bit of Dean smut.

I hope you enjoy and, as always, I value your comments and feedback.

Warnings: Smut, explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mentions of people who have passed away, profanity as standard with pretty much everything I write.

*** Minors do not read or interact - 18+ content ***

Dean let his head fall back against the headboard, clenching his fists to try to distract himself from the deep ache in his left leg.  It had been falling asleep for well over an hour now, but he didn’t want to move and disturb you.

The door to his room in the bunker was closed.  Locked, in fact, though he did not remember doing it.  You didn’t comment or so much as move when Sam brayed on the door and tried the handle, calling out for Dean to return his book.  The very book that was in your hands right now.

“I need that book back, Dean.”  Sam grumbled.

“Not now, Sammy!”  Dean called back, hoping his little brother would just go away.

“I’m researching Nephilim to help Cas with the Kelly situation, Dean.  It’s important.”  Sam became more insistent.

“I said NOT NOW, SAM!”  Dean hollered with a kind of finality that even Sam wouldn’t argue with.

Outside the door, Sam huffed and stalked away.  Dean looked down to see you looking up at him from your position, lay on his bed.  Your head was resting on his left calf, his leg bent with his foot tucked under his right knee.  You had your knees up with your foot tapping along to his banging playlist, your jeans tight around your thighs and with your head tilted back he could see all the way down the deep V of your t-shirt.

He was going to hell.  Straight there.  Do not pass go.  Do not collect two hundred dollars.  And he probably deserved it.

He snapped his eyes up towards the ceiling but it was too late, he could feel himself stirring uncomfortably in his jeans.  If Bobby was alive he would have skinned him raw just for having you in his room.  Bobby was always protective of you, his niece.  You were only a couple of years younger than Sam but Bobby had made himself very clear that you were off limits.

“If you touch one single hair on her body, I’ll make you regret the day your balls dropped.  Do you hear me, boy?”

Bobby Singer.  That man did not mince his words.  And to this day, Dean had taken that threat as gospel.  Even now that Bobby was up there with the Angels, that son of a bitch would find a way to keep his word.

You shifted, causing a painful twang to shoot up his leg.  The reflexive grunt he failed to stifle made you look back up at him, giving him that glorious view again.

Dean decided he could die like this.  If having a dead leg was a legitimate threat to his life, he would go out happy with the view of your rack in that lacy black bra he could see within the V-shaped window of that too-tight t-shirt.

He raised his eyes, once again to heaven, asking Bobby to forgive him or give him strength or something because – god help him – he wanted to take you right then and there.

It wasn’t unusual for you to seek him out after a case when you didn’t want to be alone, but you didn’t want to talk.  You would just sit while he drank, reading or working on spells.  You said he quieted the noise in your head.  Hell, he wasn’t going to argue, you were a sight for sore eyes every time he came home.  You were wicked hot and sexy in a non-slutty way.  Not that slutty was bad.  Dean liked slutty.  But that wasn’t you, you were different.

A drink.  That’s what was missing.  Dean needed a damn drink, especially if you were going to torture him by laying on him all evening.

He reached over to his bedside unit, for the bottle he kept in there for special occasions.  A bottle of twenty-five-year-old Speyside single malt that he liberated from the British Men of Letters on his last interaction with Ketch.

The pour made you stir again but it wasn’t until he raised the cut crystal tumbler to his lips did you move.  Your hand came up and claimed the glass from underneath, twisting it as you sat up so as not to spill any.

“Where’s yours?”

The cheeky glint in your eye had him pursing his lips in mild annoyance.

“Don’t pout.”  You lifted the glass, turning it until the mark left by his lips touched yours and you sipped, looking him straight in the eye.

Dean’s jaw went slack.  The glisten of the whiskey on your lips and the satisfied hum you made when you swallowed – he swallowed unconsciously when you did – made his mouth go dry.  He had never seen you like this.

You moved to kneel on the bed and walked your way slowly closer, giving his leg a tap; an instruction to move it aside.  He did, causing pins and needles to infest his nerves like ants swarming on a log to escape a flood.

Knelt between his spread legs, you brought the glass to your lips again, sipping at the amber liquid.  You leaned in.

Dean watched you, breathing shallow, attention rapt.  You hadn’t so much as touched him, yet every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire in the best possible way.  The closer you got the shallower he breathed until he was almost holding his breath, looking down his nose at how close your lips were.  His eyelashes looked to flutter against his cheeks just as yours did when you brushed your whiskey dappled lips against his.

He refused to lick where you had been.  He couldn’t.  As soon as he tasted, he would pounce, and…

“Don’t.”  He croaked out when you moved to lay your lips on him once more.

You looked confused but at least you didn’t look hurt.  He couldn’t bear it if you looked hurt because of him.

“Bobby…”  Was all he could say through his constricting throat.

You smiled then, full of amusement, lips brushing against his, you whispered “he’ll understand.”

Dean tried not to respond to you but you coaxed his lips apart and teased your tongue to meet his, short circuiting his brain.  The taste of the scotch and the sweetness of your mouth made him groan.  He had fantasised about having you for years, but never did he think it would be you seducing him.

His hands on your hips guided you roughly to straddle him, the bulge in his jeans pushing up against you as you settled.  He took the glass from your hands and downed the contents, his eyes on yours as he dropped the glass carelessly on the bedside unit.

Your lips met his again but this time you devoured each other, tongues stroking together, moans stifled by each other’s mouths.  He trailed his hands up your body, dragging your t-shirt along with them.  Finally, he could see what he had been having glimpses of this whole evening.  Plush breasts cupped in scant lace that was completely impractical for a hunt, Dean realised, like you had meant to come here like this.  You had intended this from the beginning.

He tore at the lace, dragging it under your breasts to free them, shoulder straps slipped down.  Pawing at them like he had never touched a tittie before, all he wanted to do was suck and nip and nibble.

Your breathy sigh was divine, and the moan that followed was filthy.  You cupped the back of his head as he took your nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, pressing him further, asking for more.

While he worked on your breasts you undid his belt and fly, reaching into the front of his shorts to release him from the awkward angle at which he was trapped.  You stroked him, firm but slow, feeling him for the first time.  You had always wondered what he had going on down there that every woman he had ever been with would come back for more at the drop of a hat.  You weren’t disappointed.

Dean lifted his hips, you thought to allow you to push his jeans down but instead he flipped you, making you squeal.  Once under him, he ravished your breasts anew, pinching one nipple hard while licking and sucking the other.  Soon you were a mewling mess, hips writhing, begging for something he hadn’t given you yet.  Excited that he had taken control away from you, you watched him sit up and yank your jeans down, lifting your legs until they were bare.  Your knickers followed and he spread your legs without preamble, lowering himself between your thighs until his hair and eyes were all you could see above your mound.

“Jesus Christ of Nazareth!”

You groaned as he suckled against your sensitive spot.  Fuck, he was good with his tongue.  Everything about him was good except his image.  Bad boy Dean Winchester.  He was every woman’s wet dream.  He had been your wet dream since you were seventeen.  But now you were plenty old enough and finally getting what you wanted.

Bobby had told you to stay away from him when you were a kid.  Dean had a reputation as a ladies man even then, but he respected your uncle Bobby enough to keep his distance… until now.

Dean dipped two fingers inside, creating pressure in exactly the right spot.  You gasped and gripped his hair as your pleasure began to crest, tugging on it for dear life.  He looked up at you then, to see your eyes closed against the intensity of it, neck and face flushed red with your oncoming orgasm.  When it came, the pulsing of your core was his sign to slow down.  He left off his suckling and stroked you through the pleasure, watching you all the while.  You were a beautiful mess.

“That’s my girl.”  He praised you in that deep rough tone you adored, helping prolong your climax until you took his hand away yourself.  “Are you ready for me?”

You nodded, allowing him to lift your knees up and stroke the weeping tip of his cock over your swollen clit.

From the front pocket of the jeans he still wore, he pulled a foil packet with Trojan embossed on it.  He was swift with its application, aiming his tip just so.

When he slid home, your eyes rolled back and you reached to grip his forearms.  It was something Dean would never get tired of seeing but it felt that much different with you.  You were the forbidden thing he had always wanted but could never have.  Even now he didn’t know whether he would come to regret this.  God, he hoped not.

Balls deep in you, he leaned forward to kiss you, wrapping your legs around his hips.  His instinct was to fold you in half and pound the living shit out of you, but you were already overwhelmed and he wanted to make this soft for you.

“Tell me what you need.”  He spoke softly as he nuzzled your neck.

“Just you, like this.”  You sighed.  Who knew Dean Winchester was a considerate lover.

His slow, measured thrusts brought you closer to the edge, your core fluttering each time, he could feel it.  It surprised him how quickly is climax built at this pace, but the added connection you both shared seemed to turn him on.  He would never give up Busty Asian Babe porn but he could get used to this with you.

You didn’t close your eyes against the pleasure this time, you watched him come undone above you, gasping as his orgasm made his legs and arms shake, muscles clenched tight to keep his weight from collapsing on you.  When he swelled you dug your fingers into his hips to pull him deeper with each stroke, and when he spilled you also came, eyes fluttering shut finally.

Dean knelt up, slipping the rubber off as soon as he was clear of you and, tying a knot in the end, tossed it in the direction of the trash can.

“Shot.”  You said with a smile as the sticky bundle went straight in the can.

He quirked and eyebrow and give you a slightly smug lopsided smirk that said:  What can I say?  I don’t miss.

When you moved to sit, he stopped you.

“Here, lemme get that.”

“Thanks.”

He stripped his t-shirt off and used it to clean up the wetness between your legs.  Though none of it was his, it would still dribble when you moved.  Afterwards he tucked it under your ass and flopped down on the bed at your side, moving his arm behind your head so you could rest it on his chest.  You were both content.  Both had goofy grins on your faces.  Both disbelieving that you had finally gotten what you wanted.

A loud knock at the door started you.

“Are you done?”  Sam said.  “I need that book.”

“NO!”  You and Dean shouted back in unison, laughing afterwards.

“Bobby’s gonna kill you.”  Sam called back through the door.

“I KNOW!”  Dean yelled gruffly, pulling you closer.

There might be a time in the future where the ghost of Bobby Singer came to make him regret the day his balls dropped and, if it happened, Dean would be happy to see him again.  In the meantime, you and he could work on a whole bunch of reasons to make the cranky old bastard come down from up high for a visit.

Dean pulled the sheets over both of your heads, nibbling at your neck until you moaned his name.  Aside from the roar of Baby’s engine, he had found his new favourite sound.

[wendichester]

is it okay if I request a sam x reader where sam is secretly in love with you but reader is dating dean and music and personality wise reader is a lot more like sam?

₊˚⊹ ᰔ happier,

summary. maybe you've picked the wrong brother. sam thinks so.

pairing. unrequited lover!sam winchester x reader ft. dean winchester

wordcount. 662

notes. this honestly broke my heart a little. i am not okay ˙◠˙

The bunker’s library is dimly lit, the warm glow of a desk lamp casting shadows across Sam’s face as he flips through an old book. The faint sound of your favorite song hums from the kitchen, where Dean is cooking—or attempting to. Sam knows you must have convinced him to play it.

He doesn’t look up when you walk in, but he knows it’s you. Your scent—something faintly floral and sweet—fills the room before you even say a word. You’re always here, hanging around Dean, but it’s Sam you seem to click with when it comes to conversation, music, and shared interests. You’re like him, and it’s something he tries to bury deep down.

“Hey, Sammy,” you say, plopping down in the chair across from him with a grin.

Sam’s heart skips a beat at the nickname you’ve claimed just for him. Dean calls him “Sammy” too, but it’s different when it’s you. When it’s you, it’s softer, sweeter, like you’re letting him into a part of your world you don’t share with Dean.

“What are you working on?” you ask, tilting your head and leaning forward, your elbows on the table. Your loose flannel—Sam’s flannel, lent to you during a cold night in the Impala—is unbuttoned over a tank top, your tattoos peeking from beneath the sleeves.

“Just researching,” he says, his voice carefully neutral as he slides the book toward you. “Possible lore on the hunt.”

You nod, eyes scanning the page. You’re so focused, biting your lip like you always do when you’re concentrating. It’s one of the many little things Sam has noticed about you, the small quirks that make you who you are, that make him fall a little more every day.

“You’ve got that look,” you tease, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“What look?” he asks, his voice slightly defensive.

“The ‘I’m overthinking everything and carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders’ look,” you say with a smirk.

Sam chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Guess it’s hard to hide.”

You reach across the table, your hand brushing his briefly as you slide the book back toward him. His skin burns at the contact, and he hates himself for the way his heart aches.

Dean strolls into the room then, plates of food in hand. “Dinner’s ready,” he announces, setting a plate in front of you. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your temple, and Sam forces himself to look away.

“Thanks, babe,” you say, smiling up at Dean. Your eyes light up when you’re with him, and Sam can’t blame Dean for falling for you. He just wishes he’d had the chance first.

As the three of you eat, you and Sam inevitably end up in your usual rhythm—talking about books, dissecting song lyrics, and trading inside jokes Dean doesn’t quite get. Dean doesn’t seem to mind; he’s used to it by now, but Sam wonders if he notices how much easier it is for you to talk to him than to Dean.

Later that night, when the bunker is quiet and Sam is alone in his room, he leans back in his chair and closes his eyes.

You’re with Dean, and Sam knows better than to get in the way. Dean’s his brother, his blood, and he’d never betray him like that. But the way you fit so easily into Sam’s world, the way you laugh at his dry humor and share his taste in music—it feels like the universe is mocking him.

He pulls out his journal, the one no one knows about, and writes down a single thought before closing it and setting it aside:

“She would be so much happier with me.”

Sam sighs, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his chair. Loving you from afar is torture, but it’s a pain he’ll endure if it means seeing you happy, even if it’s not with him.

For now, that will have to be enough.

⋆.˚ ★— read part 2

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze

[via-l0ve]

Hey pookie, how are you! I was wondering if you could do a romantic spn pref for sam, dean, castiel, crowley, and gabe? The plot would be that they're on a hunt with the reader and they have to infiltrait a strip club. The reader is female so she poses as a striper (she wears a white angle outfit). At one she pulls she pulls one of the guys into a private room to talk about the plan, but they see a camera in the room so the reader gives the guy a lap dance while explaining the plan as to not get caught. There is alot of sexual tension, and the guys have a crush on the reader. At this point they're only friends though. Thanks girl!

Private. (SPN Pref!) ❤️

a/n: i devoured this prompt. i am in heat. i hope you like this pookie!!!

warnings: SUGGESTIVE!!! read at your own risk, strip club, stripper!reader, lap dances, grinding, no actual smut but nsfw xx

Dean:

dean didn’t imagine this being his wednesday night.

his eyes watched you on the stage, walking around and pretending to be busy. the dainty Angel costume you were wearing hugged you in all the right places - just enough for him to imagine more.

in his distraction, he dosent realize you’re trying to get his attention.

he was suddenly pulled into one of the back, private rooms. he looked over and met your pretty eyes. he smiled.

“dean, i got info.” you smiled, closing and locking the door behind you both.

he was going to respond but his eyes caught something else. a camera. it seemed like you noticed too because you sighed.

dena watched you pull the chair to where the camera faced.

“sit.” you said in a seductive voice.

it’s just for the bit.’ dean reminded himself. he shakily sat down.

you walked toward him, back facing the camera. his eyes widened and face blushed as you started to give him a lap dance.

he was stiff as a board, too nervous to move.

“at least pretend you like it. we have to sell it so we don’t get caught.” you whisper in his ear, pressing kisses to his jawline.

shivers went down his spine and he nodded, grabbing onto your hips.

he stared into your eyes as you spoke, only being able to focus on the feeling of your hips on his, moving and grinding against him. his jaw clenched and he bit his lip, rubbing your hips with his thumbs.

you spoke about the case but he could barley hear you.

eventually you stopped, smiling at him.

“pay up, lover.” you grinned playfully.

he tried to hide his boner, giving you a forced smile as you walked away. his breath heavy and cheeks beet red.

—

Sam:

sam was nose deep in one of his papers of his research he scraped together. his cheeks were red, trying not to look up at you.

not because he didn’t want to - no. he wanted to. more than anything. but if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to look away.

despite his efforts, when he felt a hand on his shoulder he had to look up. it was you.

the white angel outfit you were wearing caught his attention. it was tight and revealing, something he wasn’t used to seeing you in.

“come with me.” you lean down and whisper to him. he just nodded, following you.

he then found himself sitting on a chair in one of the back rooms.

“there’s cameras. i have to play my part sammy.” you said to him, and he nodded

“anything you want.”

he blushed again as you started to give him a lap dance. his eyes widened.

you spoke softly about the case, but he could only focus on your body and how it moved atop of his own.

he pretended he was listening, but he was struggling. only feeling the fogginess of his mind and the weight of your body on his lap.

it was over much too soon for his liking

you got off of him and smiled.

“maybe we do this more often.” you said with a smirk.

—

Castiel:

poor boy

remember when he first went to the strip club

that’s him but x10 when he sees you

he’d never seen you in such clothing. not that he was complaining at all. if anything, he was ecstatic about it.

when you met his eyes from across the room, he got up and walked toward you immediately. you didn’t even have to ask (😍)

he followed you into the back rooms.

“cas. i gotta give you a lap dance.”

“what?”

“i’ve gotta play my part. is this okay?”

“…yes?”

castiel didn’t know what a lap dance was.

so when you started to actually do it

wowowowowow

he was gobsmacked.

his hands rested on your waist and he let you do whatever you had to do.

he bit back moans as he was so sensitive

but he listened intently to what you had to say about the case. his hips moved slightly with your body and his face was bright red.

he focused on your words but his eyes drank in how you moved against him and how his hands squeezed your hips

he could feel his dick throbbing against his jeans but he knew he couldn’t do anything about it

you got off of him eventually and he stayed sitting.

“c’mon. we gotta go.” you grinned and walked out before him. he was left with shaking hands and a red face.

—

Crowley:

he watched all of the people at the club with wandering eyes, stopping when he saw you

your outfit fit you perfectly and hugged you in all the right places

crowleys eyes wandered down your body as you came closer to him.

“come.” you said softly, leading him to the private rooms. he smirked.

“now, i didn’t know you wanted this, y/n.”

you just smirk and sit him down in the chair.

you start the lap dance, bringing your mouth close to his ear and whispering the plan to him, grinding your hips against his.

his hands ran over your body and hips, feeling the curves of your body and the softness of your skin

he was grinning, listening to the plan while also enjoying the thrusts and movements of your body

he wanted you to continue for hours. days. forever

but when you got off of him, he had to refrain from pulling you back onto his lap.

—

Gabe:

his eyes were on you from the start

he watched you with a passion, drinking in your appearance and how your white costume looked on your body.

the body he’d dreamed about seeing for months

that’s why he follows you into the back room without question

that’s also why he has to bite back moans when you start grinding against his lap, dancing

he watches with wide eyes, trying to listen to your words but drowning them out as he squirmed against your body weight

he gripped your hips and waist just a little bit too hard

he nodded along to the plan he wasn’t following, just watching your hips and body against his own

he let a groan slip from his lips at one point

his hips moving in rut him with your own

literally driving him insane.

but he’s not complaining

[star-wrote]

Pretty Little Distraction

ao3 link

Characters: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader | Early Seasons

Summary: After boring yourself while researching lore, you decide Sam needs a well-deserved break.

Warnings: SMUT, reader wears a slip dress and thigh highs, cussing, oral (fem! receiving), dirty talk (but it’s nice bc Sammy), P in V, slight breeding k!nk, dean interrupts, allusions to aftercare, established relationship

A/N: okay so sam winchester LOVES thigh highs. if you have any sam winchester requests, ideas, or even thoughts feel free to send them in! i’m completely obsessed with him at the moment! <3

Word Count: 2079

18+

(lace divider from @strangergraphics )

Researching lore was fun at first; cracking open the books and the laptops, diving headfirst into the realm of mythology and folklore, and even the crappy vending machine snack breaks. However, after three hours of nonstop eyestrain, it became downright boring.

“Saaaam,” you whined as you shut your laptop harder than you should’ve, “I need to do something else, I’m going insane.”

Sam didn’t look up from his laptop, used to your usual begging for a break. He knows that you have a different stamina than he does when it comes to research. He’s been doing it his whole life, not to mention the hours of studying in college.

You let out an exaggerated sigh at his lack of attention, which earned you an annoyed glance from your boyfriend sitting across the rickety motel table. When his gaze returned to the apparently very important information on his laptop, you abruptly stood up, cracked your back, and flopped face down onto the bed you shared with Sam.

Remembering two hours ago, when Dean clocked out of research after only an hour, you thought about how unfair it was that he got to go out and have fun at the local bar while you and Sam were stuck doing more research in the motel room. You and Sam deserved to have fun too! Especially Sam, who has been more stressed on this case than usual due to the high amount of deaths. If you haven’t found a solution yet, you probably weren’t going to find one tonight.

You lifted your head from the cheap comforter as an idea popped into your head. Quickly, you grabbed your bag and headed for the bathroom without even a glance from Sam.

After five minutes of putting your outfit on, you looked in the mirror. Your body was hugged with a short, cream colored slip dress. A knitted pair of thigh highs with lace trim adorned your legs. It wasn’t over the top lingerie, but that’s exactly why Sam found it sexy.

A shiver ran through you as you recalled the last time you wore thigh highs in bed with Sam. You were about to take them off with the rest of your clothes, but he had caught your hand and begged you to keep them on. He spent an eternity between your thighs that night, the lace trim tickling his skin in the most perfect way.

You took a deep breath and exited the bathroom, leaving your insecurities behind you. Sam was right where you left him, sitting in the wooden chair that was way past its expiration date. Except this time, his eyes immediately find you standing in the doorway like it was some kind of picture frame.

His lips part as he trails his vision down your body, stopping on your thighs and the lace that appears at the top of your knee. You smile as you slowly walk over to him and stand between his legs that automatically widen for you.

“I must’ve fallen asleep,” he says as he leans into your palm that cups his cheek, “I’m dreaming.”

You giggle as you pinch his cheek and whisper, “Nope, wide awake.”

He smiles in response and runs his hands down your waist to your hips.

“Then maybe I died and went to heaven since I’m seeing an angel.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull him in for a kiss. He breathes out through his nose as he cups the back of your head. You pull back from his lips and kiss his nose.

“You needed a break, I had to pull you away.”

He looks back to his laptop for a second, hesitating only slightly before closing it.

“How could I resist such a pretty little distraction?”

You gasp in fake shock. “You really think I’m pretty?”

His lips quirk up. “The prettiest… now come here.”

He pulls you closer by your waist, and lifts you like a feather for you to straddle his lap. His lips are back on yours in an instant, but not for long as he trails his kisses down to your jaw and to your neck, brushing back your hair for easier access. He gently sucks on your pulse point. Not enough to leave a mark, (though he desperately wants to) but enough to make you let out a small moan at the feeling.

Sam chuckles into your neck at your reaction and starts to rock your hips into the bulge slowly growing in his jeans. You bite into his shoulder and pull on the waves of his hair near his neck. He comes up from your neck and lets out a low groan as he rocks you harder against him.

Suddenly, you hear the chair below you start to squeak in rhythm with your grinding. Before you stop, Sam whispers in your ear, “Ignore it.”

You keep moving your hips, but the squeaking grows louder and the chair starts to sway with each thrust.

“Sam,” you giggle out, “I think we’re going to break this goddamn chair.”

Sam stops moving your hips and lets out another groan, this time an annoyed one. He chuckles as he rests his forehead against your shoulder.

“Fine,” he says as he stands up from the chair with you clutching onto him. “To the bed then.”

He walks the two steps it takes for his long legs to reach the foot of the bed, kisses the top of your head, and then tosses you onto the mattress.

You land with a loud laugh but quickly direct your attention back to Sam, who was taking his shirt off at the end of the bed. He smirks as he sees you bite your lower lip at the sight of his bare upper body. His eyes run down your body, stopping on your thigh highs once again while he unbuckles his belt.

You bend your knees and allow your legs to fall apart, revealing a sight of no panties under your slip dress to Sam. His breathing grows heavier as he zeros in on the new surprise that you just exposed to him.

Once his pants and boxers have joined his shirt on the floor, he kisses your ankle. Then your shin. The little scar on your knee. Multiple kisses up your inner thigh.

He fully lays down on the bed and peels your slip dress up your hips, leaving the small amount of fabric bunched around your waist. He lifts your covered thighs over his broad shoulders; a position all too familiar.

He blows out a cold current of air onto your glistening pussy and you welcome a shudder of anticipation to flow through your body. Hazel eyes that looked more brown in this moment than gold, green, or blue met your own eyes. Those same puppy dog eyes watch you as he licks a stripe up your slit. His eyes close as he tastes you for the first time tonight. It had been too long.

Sam immediately gets to work on eating you out. His hands fiddle with the lace trim of your thigh highs while his tongue laps up the wetness that you produce for him. His eyes stay closed, brows furrowed, and his hips start gently thrusting into the mattress below him, causing you to moan out at the scene unfolding in front of you. All because of you.

Because of you, Sam is almost drowning in between your legs. And because of him, you’re gushing.

Your climax arrives too quickly. It always does with Sam. The feeling of pure sin washes over you as you gasp out Sam’s name with a collection of “thank you’s.” He only stops after your legs relax around his head. He leaves a kiss on your puffy clit and quickly moves up your body to kiss your lips.

“I need to feel you, angel,” Sam breathes out between rushed kisses.

You nod as you whisper out, “Please?”

He smiles against your lips. “So polite.”

You can feel him reach a hand down to his cock, stroking it once before pressing into you.

Sam was always gentle during this moment. He has to know that he’s big. He slowly gives you inch by inch, instructing you to breathe when he gets down to the last few. He lets out a groan as he buries himself fully to the hilt.

He pauses to let you get used to him as he kisses all around your face, ever the sweetheart.

“Don’t think I tell you enough how much I like these.” Sam snaps the lace of the thigh highs against your skin, leaving a pleasant burn.

“I kinda figured it out last time.” You clench around his length at the thought. “You were so hot, Sam. You always are.”

He laughs breathlessly. “You’re getting riled up, baby.”

He slowly pulls his length out, and even more slowly pushes it back in.

“Sam…fuck.” You let out the loudest moan of the night.

“There she is.” He grunts as his thrusts get more forceful.

You wrap your arms around his neck and moan into his ear, begging him to give you more. And of course he does, because it’s Sam. He gives you anything you ask for.

“Fuck, angel. I’m so deep.” Sam brings his hand down to press on your lower stomach, making you moan. “You feel that, baby?”

You could almost cry at the feeling of him so deep inside of you. You wish he would stay inside of you forever. You wish that you could become one.

The hand that was pressing on your belly goes lower and starts circling your sensitive clit. Your hands grab handfuls of the bedsheets under you as Sam gives you more and more pleasure with every passing second.

Sam’s other hand pulls down the loose strap of your slip dress and kisses the newly exposed skin of your collarbone area. He pulls the dress down even further to free your nipple, which he swiftly licked and then took into his mouth.

You brought a hand to his head and pulled back on his hair, directing his mouth to yours for a sloppy kiss. The pace of his thrusts quickened, causing the bed to squeak on its four wooden legs and hit the wall every so often. The sound didn’t even register to either of you who were so lost in each other.

“M’ close, baby,” Sam grunts out, his accent growing thicker. “M’ gonna cum deep inside of you, honey.”

You moaned at his words. “Please, Sammy. Need you to fill me up.”

Those words caused Sam to bury himself deep inside of you, let out the lowest groans, and release in your tight walls.

The feeling of his hot cum shooting into you triggered your second and final orgasm of the night. This time, you press your lips to Sam’s again; more panting into each other’s mouths than a kiss.

Sam falls into your arms, and you welcome the weight of the giant man on top of you. You comb your fingers through his hair as his thumb traces circles into your hips. You both soak in the feeling of complete love for each other.

Suddenly, the door opens as a drunk Dean walks in with his hand over his eyes. “Jeez you guys, I’ve been waiting for ten minutes. Could hear you from down the hall.”

You burst out laughing as Sam yells at Dean to get out.

Dean turns around and pulls the door shut as he yells over his shoulder, “Get dressed so I can sleep, you freaks!”

You giggle at the bitch face that Sam couldn’t hide. Your thumbs automatically gravitate to his face to smooth out the grumpy lines between his eyebrows.

“Every time!” You say, referring to Dean interrupting your post-sex cuddles.

Sam smiles. “Maybe we should put a sock on the door next time.”

You giggle and give an alternative solution, “Or, a sign that says if the bed’s rockin’ don’t come knockin’ jerk.”

Sam smiles and gets up from you, putting his hand out for you to grab. “Come on, let’s get dressed.”

“Sam, I don’t think I can walk.” You take his hand anyway, just to hold it.

He wastes no time in picking you up bridal style and carrying you to the bathroom where your bag still sat. “I’ll take care of you.”

You were sure he could see the cartoon heart eyes that you made for him.

“You always do.”

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Big Brother

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you (5 or 6) get sick, and the boys get a bit overprotective

“Sammy.” Sam grunted as you latched your tiny fingers in his hair for stability as you settled yourself on his lap. “Sammy come play with me!”

“I can’t, honey,” Sam said, picking you up and carrying you back to the table he’d set you at only a few minutes ago. “I’ve got research to do, you’ve gotta play by yourself.”

“No!” Your outburst shocked him; you were usually pretty obedient. “No, come play with me now!”

“Hey!” Dean spoke up from his spot next to Sam. “Cool it with the attitude.”

“No!” Your voice was higher pitched and whiny now, and Sam didn’t miss the quiver in your lips.

“Hey, I said—“

“Dean wait,” Sam interrupted his brother. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

You never got upset this easily, so Sam figured there had to be a reason behind it.

“I want you to play with me!” Those were definitely not crocodile tears snaking their way down your cheeks, and Sam couldn’t resist picking you up. “I wanna stay like this,” you whimpered, leaning heavily against him.

“Well you can’t always get what you want,” Dean argued, but Sam shushed him again.

“Like this? You wanna just relax with me?” Sam asked, noting just how much you were melting into his arms.

“Yeah,” you sniffled.

“Sam, would you stop coddling her?” Dean huffed. He knew he was no better sometimes, but he did his best not to give into your tantrums—he knew it wouldn’t help you later.

“I’m not coddling her Dean,” Sam huffed. “I’m trying to figure out why she’s acting like this.” Sam turned his focus back on you. “Are you tired, N/N?”

You wouldn’t answer, you just leaned your forehead against the side of his neck. Sam frowned, pulling away suddenly despite your whiny protests.

“Hey, you’re really warm.” Sam reached a hand up and pressed the back of it against your forehead. “Jeesh you’re burning up.”

This got Dean’s attention. He finally looked up from his lore book, distress written in the lines on his face.

“She’s sick?”

“I think so.” Sam set you down on his bed, laying you back against his pillows. “Do you feel sick, kiddo?”

“My tummy hurts,” you said after a minute, rubbing your eyes. “I wanna lay down with you.”

“Here, I’ll take her,” Dean spoke up, taking three strides to you and lifting you in his arms. “Sam, could you get me the thermometer from the first aid kit? She’s really burning up.”

Sam retrieved the thermometer quickly, and Dean waited impatiently for the results—

“102,” Dean huffed.

“What?” Sam grabbed the thermometer from his brother as if he could make it say something different. “She’s never had a fever that high, has she?”

“Not even close,” Dean replied with a frown.

“De, I’m cold.” You sniffled. “I want my blanket.”

“Sorry kid,” Dean said. “We gotta get your temperature down—okay, easy,” Dean soothed when you started to whine. “You’re gonna be ok, alright? Just settle down, I got you.” Dean sat down on his bed, shifting you in his arms so you were laying down. “Why don’t you try to sleep, ok?”

“I can’t.” You squirmed in Dean’s arms. “I can’t, I’m cold!”

“Hey, ok, ok.” Dean sighed. “Just…here.” Dean looked up at Sam and pointed to your water bottle. Sam handed it to Dean, who held it up for you.

“If you finish this first, then you can take a nap with your blanket, ok?”

You rubbed the tears off your cheeks and held both hands out for the water bottle. Dean’s lips quirked up as he gave it to you and watched you down the whole thing.

“Alright.” Dean laid you back down on his bed and grabbed your blanket, glad that it wasn’t too thick. He wanted to break your fever, but he’d have to work with you if he wanted you to rest, so he was picking his battles.

You gripped the blanket tightly in your little fists, and within minutes you were asleep. Once you were breathing slow and easy, Dean reached over and adjusted the blanket so that you could still hold onto it, but it wasn’t covering you.

“You think she’ll be ok?” The way Sam was watching you—it was the way that Dean knew he himself had watched Sam; like he was scared for you, like he’d die for you, like he’d kill for you—it both touched and scared Dean. He wasn’t used to Sam being the protective, big brother sort—that was always Dean’s job.

“We just gotta wait for the fever to break,” Dean said with more certainty than he was feeling. “She’ll be just fine.”

…

You woke up in a fit of coughing, and Dean could tell by the way your whole body was lurching that whatever you’d eaten today wouldn’t stay down for long. He snatched you up and barely made it to the tiny motel bathroom in time.

Sam followed him at a run, and he knelt next to you on the floor, holding your hair back while Dean rubbed your back, whispering—“it’s ok, you’re ok,” to soothe you the whole time.

By the time your stomach was empty, you were shaking with sobs. Dean snatched up some toilet paper and wiped your mouth off, before lifting you again into his arms and cradling you against his chest.

“I know, I know,” he soothed. “You’re alright now, it’s over.”

“I hurt,” you sobbed.

“Where does it hurt, honey?” Sam asked quietly, gently brushing your hair away from your sweaty face.

“Everywhere.” Your voice was muffled against Dean’s shoulder as you gripped onto his shirt.

“Let’s go back to sleep, yeah?” Dean suggested, already carrying you to his bed.

“No!” You insisted. “I wanna go in Baby.”

“I think you should take a nap,” Dean argued, but you persisted—

“Please, De! I wanna go in Baby.” You pulled back just enough to blink your big bright eyes at Dean, and he was a goner.

“Ok, ok,” Dean sighed. “Let’s go for a drive.”

…

Sam had you curled up in his lap while Dean started Baby up.

“Feeling any better?” Dean asked you as he pulled out onto the open road. You just huddled closer to Sam and shook your head. Sam ran his hand over your forehead.

“She’s still really hot,” Sam sighed.

Dean didn’t respond, he just kept going down the road until the soft music and the purr of Baby put you to sleep.

“It hasn’t gone down at all.” Sam glanced from Dean down to you in his lap. “She’s never been this sick before, it could just get worse and—“

“Hey, hey now,” Dean interrupted. “Cut it out with the worst case scenario stuff, ok? You’re gonna make me lose my mind.” Dean’s fingers were shaking on the wheel, and when Sam saw it he got even more nervous.

“You’re scared,” Sam said.

“What?” Dean tried to scoff it off, but Sam just stared at him. “Yes, ok? Of course I’m scared, but she’s gonna be fine. She is.”

“How do you know?” Sam demanded.

“Because she’s strong. Just because she’s a little kid doesn’t mean she isn’t strong. She’s gonna fight this off.”

The boys lapsed into silence for several miles.

“Dean?” Your little body stretched as you blinked open your eyes and reached out for Dean.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean said, taking one hand off the wheel to grab onto your tiny reaching fingers. “I’m right here.”

“I’m hungry, De.” You yawned.

“Hungry?” Dean glanced at you. “Are you feeling better?” You never wanted to eat when you were sick.

“Mmm.” You pulled your hands back, and Dean had to hold back a laugh when he saw you lifting your little hands to your arms, your stomach, and your face, as if trying to see if something was missing. “I feel a little better,” you concluded.

Sam lifted his own hand to your forehead, and nodded at Dean with a little smile.

“It’s gone down a lot, I think.”

“Ok.” Dean couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he ruffled your hair. “Then dinner it is.”

…

Dean decided to bring the food back to the motel so you could rest more. Once you were yet again settled down in his bed, he began pulling out bags of fast food and passing them around.

“I wanna watch Scooby Doo,” you blurted out, reaching out and tugging on Sam’s arm.

“What’s that got to do with me?” He asked, pulling his arm back so he could take the food Dean was offering him.

“I want you to watch with me!” You demanded. “Please, Sammy?”

“Alright, alright.” Sam climbed onto the bed, grunting when you jumped on top of him and got comfortable. “You’d better not get me sick,” he commanded, to which you just giggled in response. Dean noticed, however, that despite Sam’s grumblings of getting sick, he still let you curl up on his chest, and he even wrapped his arms around you as the two of you watched the tv together.

Dean settled himself on the other bed, for once more engrossed in his siblings than his favorite cartoon. Sam normally sit back and let Dean be the authority figure—the “big brother”— with you, even though he acted like your big brother sometimes. But today was different; Sam had been so scared for you, and Dean knew the feeling well—he’d felt it throughout Sam’s childhood, and yours too.

But now that the fear was passing, Dean got to watch with his heart full as his little brother held onto his little sister and just spent time with her—it had been so long since Dean had seen Sam laugh, but now here he was laughing with you, and Dean didn’t think there was a better sight in the world than the two people that meant the most to him in this world having the time of their lives.

Sam noticed Dean’s staring, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he grinned at his big brother and mouthed to him, “she’s ok.”

Dean wasn’t sure he had ever seen Sam happier.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley