#stanford!sam x reader

[cuntiel]

Taller sibling who accidentally started the apocalypse

[deansbeer]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

♡ ⋮ my content is not suitable for minors.

꒰ paired duo ꒱ྀི dean winchester x female!reader.

꒰ synopsis ꒱ྀི he shows up at your door after years away doing god knows what, and suddenly you’re sneaking around behind your brother’s back.

꒰ content warnings ꒱ྀི smut | sneaking around | brother’s best friend trope | unprotected sex (use the damn rubber) | oral sex (f!receiving) | multiple orgasms | possessiveness | risk of getting caught | dirty talk | quiet sex | slight moment of vulnerability.

꒰ sticky notes ꒱ྀི the girlies chose dean, so here he is. this was proofread, but not entirely. i gave up halfway through because i'm exhausted from today. also to my simon girlies, his fic will be posted soon! <3 literally 3.1k words. i’m beat.

divider creds, @haecunt !

you’re elbow-deep in anatomy flashcards when the knock comes at your door. it’s nearly midnight on a thursday, and your brother won’t be home from his shift at the hospital for another three hours. you almost ignore it – probably just drunk college kids at the wrong apartment – but something makes you get up and check the peephole.

your heart stops. dean fucking winchester is standing outside your door, hands shoved in the pockets of that leather jacket you’d recognize anywhere. you haven’t seen him in what, four years? not since that summer before you started college, when he and your brother had some massive falling out that neither of them would explain. one day dean was there, sprawled on your couch playing video games, and the next he was gone. no goodbye, no explanation, just gone.

you open the door before you can think better of it. “dean?” his name comes out as barely a whisper, like saying it too loud might make him disappear again. he looks older, harder somehow. there’s a cut healing on his jaw and his eyes carry weight they didn’t before. but that crooked smile when he sees you? that’s exactly the same.

“hey there, sweetheart.” the nickname hits you like a physical thing.

he’d called you that since you were thirteen and desperately crushing on your older brother’s best friend. back then it was teasing, meant to make you blush and stomp off. now, at twenty-two, it sounds different coming from his lips. deeper. intentional. “gonna let me in, or we doing this reunion right here?”

you step aside wordlessly, brain still trying to process that he’s actually here. He brushes past you, and fuck, he still smells the same – leather and something spicy and fundamentally dean. you close the door and lean against it, needing the support. “what are you doing here?” the question comes out more accusatory than intended. “tt's been four years, dean. four years of nothing, and now you just show up?”

he has the decency to look guilty, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he always did when he knew he’d fucked up. “i know. i’m sorry, i just...” he trails off, eyes roaming over you like he's drinking you in. “shit, you grew up.” his words are quiet, almost reverent, and heat floods your face.

“that tends to happen,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. you’re acutely aware that you’re in tiny sleep shorts and an old metallica band tee – his metallica band tee, you realize with embarrassment. one he'd left behind years ago that you’d claimed for pajamas. if he notices, he doesn’t comment, but his eyes definitely linger. “seriously, Dean. why are you here? and don’t tell me you were just in the neighborhood. nobody’s just in the neighborhood of san diego.”

he sighs, sinking onto your couch like he belongs there. like the last five years haven’t happened. “was up at stanford,” he admits, and your eyebrows raise. stanford. where his not-so-little brother sam goes. “just... checking on sam. from a distance. kid doesn’t know i was there,” something in his voice breaks a little. “then i figured i was already in california, might as well...”

“might as well drop in on the other family you abandoned?” your words are harsh, but you’re angry. angry at him for leaving, angry at yourself for how fucking happy you are to see him despite everything. “jake’s not here, if that’s who you're looking for. he’s at work."

“i know.” he looks up at you, and those green eyes are intense in a way that makes your stomach flip. “his shift at UCSD Medical doesn’t end until three. figured we could talk without him trying to punch me in the face.” he pauses. “again.”

your brother had punched dean? that explains the sudden disappearance a bit more. you move closer despite yourself, settling on the opposite end of the couch. “what happened between you two? jake never told me.” you pull your knees up to your chest, making yourself smaller. “one day you were here all the time, the next you were just... gone. do you know how worried i was?”

dean’s expression softens. “fuck, i’m so sorry, sweetheart. i really am. some shit went down with my dad, with the family business. things got complicated.” he runs a hand through his hair, messing up the carefully styled spikes. “jake didn’t approve of some choices i made. said i was throwing my life away, that i was gonna drag sam down with me. we both said shit we couldn’t take back.”

family business. you remember john winchester, how he’d drift in and out of dean’s life, always pulling him away for weeks at a time. how dean would come back with bruises he’d brush off and a darkness in his eyes that would take days to fade. “the family business,” you repeat slowly. “what kind of business has you showing up looking like you’ve been in a bar fight?”

he touches the cut on his jaw absently. “again, it’s complicated,” his standard answer for anything involving his dad. “but i’m handling it. been handling it.” he shifts closer, just slightly, but you notice. “tell me about you. medical school, huh? following in big brother’s footsteps?”

the change of subject is obvious, but you let it slide. for now. “year two at SDSU. it’s kicking my ass, but i love it.” you gesture at the disaster of textbooks and notes on your coffee table. “currently drowning in anatomy and physiology. jake’s been helping when he can, but his residency keeps him pretty busy.”

“proud of you,” dean says softly, and the sincerity in his voice makes your chest tight. “always knew you’d do something amazing. even when you were thirteen and following us around like a puppy.” the teasing is gentle, familiar, and you find yourself relaxing despite your better judgment.

“i did not follow you around like a puppy,” you protest, but you’re fighting a smile now. “i was just... interested in what you guys were doing. very normal behavior.” he laughs, and the sound warms something inside you that’s been cold for four years.

“sure, sweetheart. all those times you just happened to need something from the garage when we were working on my car? total coincidence.” he’s full-on grinning now, and it’s devastating. you’d forgotten how beautiful he was when he really smiled. “or when you suddenly developed an interest in whatever video game we were playing?”

“shut up,” you mutter, throwing a pillow at him. he catches it easily, reflexes sharp as ever. “i was a kid with a crush. sue me.” the admission slips out before you can stop it, and his expression shifts, becoming something hungrier.

“was?” he asks, voice dropping lower. “past tense?” he sets the pillow aside and moves closer, eliminating the safe distance you’d maintained. “that mean you don’t have a crush anymore, or that you’re not a kid anymore?”

oh god, your heart is racing. this is dangerous territory, especially with your brother due home in a few hours. but dean’s looking at you like he wants to devour you, and you’re now twenty-two years old and tired of pretending you don’t still think about him. “‘m definitely not a kid anymore,” you say quietly, meeting his eyes steadily.

“no,” he agrees, gaze dropping to your lips. “you’re definitely not,” the air between you is charged, electric. you should move away. should remember that this is your brother's best friend – former best friend – and that jake would lose his mind if he knew dean was even here. should remember that dean left once without a word and could do it again.

instead, you lean in. his hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone with surprising gentleness.

“we shouldn’t,” he says, but he’s leaning in too. “jake would kill me. hell, i promised him i’d stay away from you both.” his thumb traces your bottom lip. “but fuck, sweetheart, you have no idea how many times i’ve thought about this. about you.”

“then stop thinking,” you whisper, and close the distance between you. the kiss is nothing like the innocent peck you’d imagined when you were younger. this is fire and demand, four years of absence and want poured into the connection. dean kisses like he does everything else – with complete focus and devastating skill.

his hands tangle in your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss. you make a noise you’d be embarrassed about under other circumstances, climbing into his lap without breaking contact. “fuck,” he groans against your mouth, hands dropping to your hips. “we can’t— your brother—”

“isn’t home for three more hours,” you finish, rolling your hips experimentally. the friction makes both of you gasp. “unless you’re gonna disappear again the second this is over?” it’s meant to be teasing, but real hurt bleeds through. his hands tighten on your hips, holding you still.

“nah,” he says firmly, pulling back to look at you. “‘m not going anywhere. not this time.” there's something in his eyes that makes you believe him. “might have to be careful around jake, but i’m done staying away. four years was long enough.”

you kiss him again, harder this time, and he responds immediately. his hands slide under your shirt – his shirt – and the skin-to-skin contact makes you shiver. “bedroom,” you gasp when he moves to your neck, sucking a mark just below your ear. “dean, my bedroom, now.”

he stands easily, lifting you with him like you weigh nothing. you wrap your legs around his waist, attacking his neck with kisses as he navigates to your room. “which one?” he asks, voice rough, and you point to the door on the right. he kicks it closed behind you, pressing you against it immediately.

“gotta be quiet,” he warns, even though you both know the apartment above yours is empty and jake won't be home for hours. “think you can be quiet for me, sweetheart?” his hand slides into your shorts, finding you already wet, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. “atta girl. quiet as a mouse while i take you apart.”

that makes you clench around nothing. dean notices, of course he does, and grins against your throat. “you like that, huh? filthy girl,” his fingers tease your entrance, never quite giving you what you need. “you’ve been mine for years, haven’t you? even when i wasn’t here.”

“mhm,” you admit with a hum, past the point of pretending otherwise. “always, dean—please.” he rewards you by sliding two fingers inside, and you have to bite his shoulder to keep from crying out. he walks you to the bed, laying you down carefully without removing his hand.

“so fuckin’ wet,” he marvels, fingers working you expertly. “this all for me?” you nod frantically, hips moving to meet his thrusts. “words, baby. need to hear you.” his thumb finds your clit, and you’re seeing stars.

“all for you,” you gasp out, struggling to keep your voice down. “only you, dean. please, need more.” he adds a third finger, stretching you perfectly, and you’re already embarrassingly close. “gonna come–” you warn, and he speeds up, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision go white.

“c’mon, sweetheart. come for me. wanna see you fall apart on my fingers,” his words push you over the edge, orgasm hitting you like a freight train. you turn your head and bite your pillow to muffle your cry, body arching off the bed. “you’re beautiful,” he breathes, working you through it. “knew you’s be beautiful when you came.”

when you can think again, he’s stripped off his shirt, revealing a chest that’s broader than you remember and decorated with scars that definitely weren’t there before. your hands trace them gently, and something vulnerable flashes across his face. “dean, what happened to you?”

“life happened,” he says vaguely, but then he’s kissing you again and you let it go. for now. his hands make quick work of your remaining clothes, and then you’re naked beneath him, feeling exposed and wanting all at once. “wow,” he breathes, eyes raking over you. “you’re perfect, baby. better than i imagined.”

“you imagined?” the thought of dean thinking about you, fantasizing about this, makes a heat pool in your belly again. he grins, that cocky smile that used to make teenage-you weak in the knees. still does, if you’re being honest.

“‘course i did. you think i didn’t notice you growing up? took everything i had to stay away, especially that last summer.” his hand trails down your body, reacquainting himself with territory he's never actually explored. “you were eighteen, wearing those tiny shorts and following me around with those eyes. fuck, sweetheart, i’m not a saint.”

“why didn’t you—” your question dies as he moves down your body, settling between your thighs. “dean, what are you—” his mouth on you cuts off any coherent thought. you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise that escapes, hips bucking up involuntarily.

he pulls back just enough to speak. “dreamed about tasting you. gonna make you come on my tongue, then i’m gonna fuck you so good you forget anyone else exists.” he dives back in, tongue working magic that has you seeing stars. it’s too much and not enough, and when he adds fingers to the mix, you have to bite your hand to stay quiet.

your second orgasm builds faster than the first, dean’s name a chanted prayer in your head since you can’t say it out loud. he hums against you, the vibration sending you over the edge with a muffled cry. he works you through it, only pulling away when you push weakly at his head.

“taste even better than i imagined,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. the casual obscenity of it makes you clench. “think you can take me now, baby? need to be inside you.” you nod wordlessly, reaching for him. he sheds his remaining clothes quickly, and your eyes widen at the sight of him.

“that’s... you’re...” he’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with, and the smug grin says he knows it. “dean, i don’t know if—” he kisses you quiet, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“you can take it, baby,” he assures you, positioning himself at your entrance. “know you can. gonna go slow, okay? don’t wanna hurt you,” the gentleness in his voice contrasts with the hunger in his eyes. he pushes in slowly, and the stretch is intense, borderline too much. “that’s it, sweetheart. doing s’good for me.”

when he’s finally buried inside you to the hilt, you both need a moment. he’s shaking with the effort of holding still, forehead pressed to yours. “you okay?” he asks, and you give him a meek yeah in response, experimentally rolling your hips. the movement makes both of you groan. “you’re so tight, baby. so fuckin’ perfect.”

he starts moving, slow and deep, and you understand why he made you come twice first. you need the preparation to take him like this. “dean,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. “feels so good. so big.” he captures your lips, swallowing your moans as he picks up the pace.

“yeah? you like being full of me?” his voice is rough, controlled. “been wanting this for so long. wanting to make you mine.” he hits a particularly good angle, and you have to bite his shoulder again to stay quiet. “the things i wanna do to you. wanna fuck you in every room of this apartment. wanna mark you up so everyone knows you’re taken.”

his possessive words make you clench around him. “yes, fuck, yes,” you agree breathlessly. “i want that. want everyone to know.” his rhythm falters slightly, and he groans deep in his chest. “please. harder.”

he obliges, hooking your leg over his shoulder to go deeper. this new angle has you seeing stars, and you can feel another orgasm building. “there you go, baby,” he encourages. “take it. take everything i give you,” his hand finds your clit, and the combination is devastating. “gonna come for me again? gonna come on my big cock?”

you could only nod, beyond words now. the build-up is intense, full-body, and when it hits, you have to muffle your scream in his shoulder. he fucks you through it, chasing his own release. “where?” he grits out, and you understand what he's asking.

“inside,” you gasp, still shaking from aftershocks. “i’m on the pill. i wanna feel you.” your permission breaks his control. he buries himself deep with a groan of your name, and you feel him pulse inside you. the feeling triggers another mini-orgasm, and you cling to him as you both shake through it.

he collapses half on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight. you’re both panting, sweaty, completely wrecked. “holy shit,” you breathe, and he chuckles against your neck. “that was...”

“yeah,” he agrees, pressing lazy kisses to whatever skin he can reach. “worth waiting four years for.” he pulls out carefully, and you whimper at the loss. “shh, i got you. not going anywhere, baby.” he reaches for your tiny pajama shorts, using it to clean you both up gently. his tenderness makes your chest tight.

you glance at the clock and reality crashes back in. “shit, jake’ll be home in an hour.” dean follows your gaze and sighs. “dean... what are we doing? he’s going to kill us both if he finds out.”

“then we don't let him find out,” dean says simply, pulling you against his chest. “at least not yet. let me figure out how to fix things with him first.” he strokes your hair, and you melt into the touch. "and i meant what i said – i’m not disappearing again. we’ll figure this out.”

you want to believe him. want to believe that this time is different, that he’ll stay. but you’ve been burned before. “promise?” you ask, hating how small your voice sounds. he tilts your chin up, making you meet his eyes.

“i promise, sweetheart. you’re stuck with me.” he seals it with a kiss, soft and sweet. “now, how about we get dressed and i help you study anatomy? seems like i’d be a pretty good teaching aid,” his innuendo makes you laugh despite everything.

“you're terrible,” you inform him, but you're already reaching for your underwear and his old metallica band tee. because even if this is complicated, even if your brother might actually murder you both, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

not when dean’s looking at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted. not when you finally have him here, in your bed, in your life.

Maybe it’s worth the risk.

[decayingearf]

i see you write for supernatural😏. can i get a mfn uhhhh … season one!sam x reader like stanford sam. how he get down in them dorm rooms. omgg who said that?😱

(omg it must’ve been the wind? anyhow here’s stanford sam!)

✗ warnings; 18+, mdni, pinv (doggy style), drunk hook up, established consent, animalistic!sam, light after care (if you squint)

[a/n: now hold on, im sure you’re thinking this is some rapey drunk sexual assault, no. both people are consenting, its just a drunken hook up. whoever comes up with the best name for this fic, wins!]

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀; you run into your classmate at a party, do you talk to him or brush him off?

you really didn’t even want to go to that stupid party. everyone had class tomorrow but from the looks of it, they could care less.

“you gonna be okay by yourself?” your friend asked over the blasting music, “yeah im just gonna be a-“ hell if they cared. ‘yeah’ was all they needed to hear. no specifics.

you sighed walking away from the overcrowded living and into the kitchen. that wasn’t an easy task either, seeing as everyone was wasted. “‘scuse me..’scuse me” you state pushing past people. you finally make it to the drink table fixing yourself a vodka cran.

you notice some guy you know from your criminal justice class, babysitting a beer. “hey you’re, [𝜗𝜚], right?” he questions as you look up at him offering a friendly smile “yeah..do i know you?” you make small talk.

“uh—sam, criminal justice, fifth row?” he lists as you feign remembrance “right right, i totally remember you sam” you giggled. “no that was kind of stupid huh? thats my bad” the giant raised his hands in surrender.

large hands, strong grip, lord have mercy.

“you uh—you here with anyone tonight?” he spoke up after a beat or two. he’s doing the thing, you can tell. “my friend, shes..” you trailed off looking around the room not spotting her, “she’s somewhere around here” before sam chuckled lightly.

you sip your drink settling in the silence, it’s comfortable.

time goes by rather quickly as you and sam just chat mostly. you can tell that the drinks he’s had is making him more cocky. he’s making all sorts of comments from ‘yeah, i changed my major..” to ‘you wanna get out of here?’.

12:03 am

“nguh!” you moan out as sam thrusts into you faster from behind, “hmph” he growls before slapping your ass and grabbing your hips to force you back again.

“fuck, oh my gosh” you shout as your arms give and you fall head first into the bed. sam pushes further on your arched back as he continues fucking you senseless.

all to be heard was; skin slapping, muffled sentences, and animalistic grunts n groans.

“stay like that, dont move” sam groans referring to your ‘face down, ass up’ position. this way seems like you can feel just how deep he is.

“oh my gosh! fuck, don’t stop” you cry out as it gets muffled into the bed sheets which you’re holding onto for dear life.

sam soon feels his orgasm creeping up which is the only reason why he’s slowing down as we speak. “fuck right there” he grunts as his resolve snaps and hot white lines are coating your clenched walls.

sam kept going until you caught up with your own climax. he collapses next to you “c’mere” the man nods you over before kissing your temple and letting you rest on his chest.

@cursed-carmine dividers!

[losers-clvb]

ICEBREAKER one

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

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

word count: 3.1k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell is a Biellmann?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want a picture?” Sam asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam chuckled and shook his head.

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

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

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

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

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

Your faced screwed up in confusion again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That flustered you.

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

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

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

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

Then you remembered the point at hand.

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

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

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

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

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

“Ribbon-head?”

“See how ridiculous it sounds.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe I could.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam grunted, pulling you closer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you out here, babe?”

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

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

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

sam winchester taglist : @hobiespick @xoswiftieprincess @whothefvckami

icebreaker tags: @gigiwritess

[fernsplace]

LOCKED OUT! *ೃ༄

summary: stanford!sam works at the front desk of his residence hall. while picking up a package, you share an awkward moment. a few days later, after a night out, you go to him when your roommate locks you out of your room. pairing: stanford!sam winchester x f!reader (“y/n” used once) content: both are 20. sam winchester is the sweetest. soft sam winchester. shy girl. nerd sam. slow burn. mutual pining. tipsy reader. no like painfully slow burn with no reward. word ct: 2.4k notes: i am a sucker for slow burns & awkward conversations. that is all. not proofread. lowercase intended.

you walk in long strides, and puddles splash the bottoms of your jeans, the denim shifting to a dark blue. you huff with frustration, bringing your umbrella down closer to the top of your head. your body shivers, the cold rain nipping at your skin despite your efforts to hold your rain jacket closed. where the fuck did this come from?

you could have sworn you’d checked the weather this morning before leaving for class.

slight breeze, seventy five, and partly cloudy.

now, it was dark and stormy, and your teeth chattered on your painfully long walk back to your residence hall. you were miserable. you had had a long day that could only be described as unfortunate.

first, you woke up that morning to the all too familiar color of red soaking through your bedsheets and the slight metallic scent of iron. after throwing your sheets into the hamper— because of course every washing machine was full— you dropped your last granola bar onto the hallway stairs that were for sure caked with a multitude of mysterious liquids and bodily fluids. luckily, lab went well. all three hours of it. no beakers dropped, no cotten balls set on fire, and no mistaking grams for ounces (not your brightest moment). afterwards, you even had the pleasure of finding a seat in the library to quietly eat your lunch.

you wish you hadn’t taken those four hours for granted, because everything went downhill from there. there was a brief moment in which you even sifted through far away memories in an effort to recall whether you had once broken a mirror or walked beneath a ladder.

in your next class, you sat down and gathered your supplies. computer, check, water bottle, check, calculator, check, ipad, check, wait— you forgot your ipad. in both classes, you were forced to face your classmates, cheeks flushed and pink, voice small when you asked for a piece of paper.

and here you were, hours later, walking back in a torrential downpour. the wind was strong. five minutes from your res hall, a particularly powerful gust blew your umbrella, flipping it inside out. in that moment, you truthfully believed that you were god’s strongest soldier.

you gasped, stumbling around as you desperately tried to fix it. the rain pelted you, temporarily blurring your vision. fuck this. you gave up, and broke out into a jog.

—

you breathed hard, soft gasps leaving your lips as you made it beneath the roof. droplets of rainwater slid down your nose and onto your lips. you licked them off… cold and fresh.

“stupid piece of sh…” you mumbled quietly to yourself as you shook the broken umbrella. you finally stepped into your building where it was warm and dry. you pulled your hood off your head. somehow, your hair was mostly dry. frazzled, but dry.

your body still shook from the cold, but the comfortable heat coming from the radiators encompassed you, and you felt like you could finally relax.

you turned to walk towards the stairway, wanting to get to the laundry room as fast as possible. there’s gotta be at least one washer open at this time of day.

but you paused in your tracks, remembering an email you’d received on your school account. your package has been delivered! your delivery may be found at… you sighed, turning around on the balls of your heels and made your way to the front desk.

there, a boy with messy brown hair sat with his nose buried in a large book. you took a short breath, suddenly very aware of your damp appearance. you stood still for a moment, but he didnt look up from his book.

“uh, hi.” you spoke softly, cheeks pink. you brushed a strand of hair from your face.

the boy’s head snapped up. “oh, hi! sorry, i, uh, didn’t see you. what can i help you with?” his eyes met yours. they were apologetic. pretty too.

“sorry to bother you. um, i just, uh, i think i got a package.” you were stumbling over your words. you were wet, your broken umbrella hung limp in your hands, and you knew your backpack was probably soaked through. you were suddenly hyperaware of everything, and you could only imagine how dumb you looked.

“no problem, just scan here.” he smiled and pushed a small black box towards you. he rose from his seat and he was suddenly much taller than he originally seemed. he closed his book to show the cover, which had constitutional law written in large font.

you fumbled around for your phone, which was in your left back pocket. the opposite one that you usually put it in. you mentally eye rolled at yourself.

“wet out there, hm?” the mail boy teased, making small talk. “just a little”. you saw the corner of his lips curl into a small smile. you pulled out your phone, hovering it above the scanner. a small ding rang out. you watched as his gaze fell to the computer in front of him, and then back to you. “y/n?”

“that’s me”. you smiled weakly, a nervous giggle escaping your lips. he gave a small nod. “i’ll be right out.” he disappeared through a door that led to the mail room. you rocked back and forth on your heels, humming softly. no song in particular, just as a means of grounding yourself. you were getting antsy, mentally walking through the steps you’d take immediately after this debacle.

grab the package, go upstairs, throw down your bag, grab hamper, walk back downstairs to go to the laundry room. or should you check to make sure there’s an open washing machine before you go upstairs? that would save you some effort, but—

“hey, you’re the girl that’s always getting absurdly large packages, aren’t you?” the mail boy broke your train of thought as he appeared with your package. you blushed again— something you seemed to be doing a lot of today. “oh, uhh, probably?” you squinted, scratching the back of your head. fuck, that’s embarrassing.

“uh, who told you that?” you forced a chuckle. he walked through the side door of the office and made his way to you. he handed you the package, which, to be fair, was absurdly large. he hovered his hands over yours, ensuring that you had a good grip. “leila. one of the other front desk attendants.” he took a step back. “uh, not to call you out or embarrass you or anything, i just… realized it was you… i guess.”

he stood there in front of you. he was very tall, but his gentle demeanor and soft hoodie made him much less intimidating than he probably should be.

your lips straightened and you sighed. “no, no— it’s chill. of course she did. uh, we’re roommates.”

of course it was leila. she’s your best friend, and apparently, your number one fan. leila is someone who makes conversation with anybody wherever she goes. no detail is lost on her, and nothing is ever too much information. you loved that about her though. seeing her speak so confidently made you feel more comfortable to do so.

“here, i’ll take this. it… probably won’t do you any good anymore.” the boy took the broken umbrella from your hand. in a split second, his eyes scanned your body. you mumbled a shy thanks. your hand was no longer cramping and you had a better grip on the box. you turned away, ready to finally go back to your dorm.

“oh, uh. it’s cat litter… by the way.” you spoke. the boy, who was making his own way back to the desk turned around. he tilted his head curiously, eyes furrowing.

“the packages. i have a cat.” the boy only chuckled. it was breathy. “i suppose that makes sense.”

you turned back around, almost getting to the stairs before you heard his voice once more, this time, a bit louder. “uh, i’m sam by the way!” he called. you simply smiled.

—

nearly every day after that interaction, you’d notice sam working at the front desk. mostly night shifts. some nights you’d catch each others’ eyes, but most days, he didn’t look up from his book.

you didn’t quite understand why, but there was small flutter of anxiety in your stomach whenever you passed.

—

you hiccuped. not loudly, just one of those tiny ones that lingers in your throat and makes your face scrunch up.

"shit," you whispered, wobbling slightly as you stepped back from the door. your dorm key had worked earlier, but that was hours ago when you dropped your jacket off before heading out to the bars. now, as you jiggled it for the fourth time, it gave a stubborn click and refused to turn.

"leila!" you whisper-yelled, knocking your fist lightly against the wooden door. "open up!”

nothing. silence. the girl had fallen asleep on her bed before pregame even ended. you weren’t much of a partier, leila even less so, but your some of your lab friends had begged you to go out that night.

begrudgingly, you did, although you still walked home early. you were dressed in a black mini skirt that piper, your labmate, had given you. it wasn’t much your style, but you had to admit, you looked pretty.

you sighed dramatically, letting your forehead fall against the door. your cheeks were warm, flushed, from a mixture of alcohol and the walk home. it was too late to be locked out. and it was too uncomfortable for you to sit out here like a stray cat, though you vaguely considered curling up like one in the stairwell.

you could risk spiders crawling over your body, or you could risk getting on the bad side of your neighbors and ra by pounding on the door some more.

then you remembered something—or someone.

the desk.

sam.

you froze in place. your stomach fluttered again, like it always seemed to do when his name flickered into your brain. you feel like you’ve been hearing that name everywhere lately. like you’re seeking it out.

go downstairs, ask him to let you in, easy. no big deal. except— you were slightly tipsy. not drunk. just… looser. more likely to say something stupid.

you checked your phone. 12:30am. would he be working at this hour? on a friday night?

you tried to smooth your hair, pull your jacket into place, and straighten your expression before beginning the quiet descent to the front desk.

you peeked around the corner. he was there. of course he was. book open. hoodie sleeves pulled over his palms. a soft desk lamp illuminated him in gold, and your heartbeat sped up ever so slightly.

as you stepped into view, his eyes lifted like he’d felt you coming.

you tried for a casual wave. "hey."

he blinked once, then smiled slowly, almost like the expression snuck up on him.

"hey," he said, voice soft. "you okay?"

you crossed your arms, half for warmth, half for composure. chills ran down your spine, and yet you felt hot all at once. "uh. not really. leila locked me out." you added, a little sheepishly, "i think she fell asleep."

"i tried to be responsible," you offered, shrugging, lips curved in a small, helpless smile. "came home early. didn’t lose my ID. wore two layers." you flailed your arms out, letting them hit your sides.

sam chuckled. his eyes sparkled beneath the glow of the lamp. has he always been this pretty?

"honestly? A plus."

you laughed. it made you sway a little in place.

his eyes caught it, flickering from your eyes to your shoes. “do you want to sit for a second?" he stood, making his way to the door, and leaving his book to sit open on the desk.

you hesitated, but padded over, perching on the bench by the desk. sam took a seat next to you. your knees bumped eachother. your fingers picked at your sleeves.

"you’re not gonna narc on me, are you?"

he mocked a serious look. "depends. how many drinks?"

"like... two and a half?" your gaze was fixed on the floor.

he raised a brow and tilting his head, forcing his eyes to meet yours. you felt shy, like he was really seeing you.

"okay, three." you admitted, nose scrunching.

his smile grew. he let out a heavy breath. "good. you're alright. i mean, you walked here in a straight line, right?"

“ish.” you muttered.

he huffed a laugh and shook his head, messy bangs falling over his eyebrows. "do you want me to let you back in?"

you nodded, relieved.

"yes. please. i promise i’ll owe you, like, you can meet my cat. or, i’ll buy you some— some candy?” your words came quick, stumbling from your lips. you couldn’t help but shake your head at the stupidity of what you had said.

sam went back into the office and returned with a key ring. he glanced down at you, gaze lingering just a second too long.

"you have glitter on your face."

your hand immediately flew to your cheek.

"oh god. where?"

he bent down so he could lean a little closer, eyes big and warm.

"left side. no—uh, right. here." he pointed near his own cheekbones.

"great. now i’m sparkly and locked out. just my luck."

"you’re… kind of charming, actually." he said it so casually that it took a second to register. you nearly lost your step as he offered his hand. you took it slowly, standing up.

your stomach flipped. your eyes widened slightly, meeting his. then he was already turning, pretending like he hadn’t said it.

you followed in stunned silence as he led you upstairs. once you reached the second floor, you guided him towards your dorm.

at your door, he fiddled with the keys, finally clicking the right one in. the door creaked open, casting soft yellow light over both of you. on her lofted bed, you could just barely make out the shape of leila, who seemed to be fast asleep.

you turned to thank him, your mouth already open, but he beat you to it.

"i’m glad you came to me. like—not just because i work here, but…" he trailed off, suddenly bashful.

"i'm glad, too," you whispered. you stepped inside, pausing in the doorway. "hey, sam?" you were feeling brave. or maybe this was the alcohol taking control.

he glanced up, eyes warm.

"you’re kind of charming, too." his face flushed.

"thanks," he mumbled, then looked down at his shoes like he’d said something embarrassing. after a beat, he spoke, “goodnight. i’ll see you around.”

he planted a light kiss on your cheek. heat washed over your face. “goodnight, sam.”

you smiled to yourself as you shut the door, pressing your back against it. lifting your hand, you could feel a rough patch of skin. you still had glitter on your cheek. and unbeknownst to sam, under the harsh white lights of the hallway, his lips sparkled.

—

thank you for reading! i used to write on wattpad years ago, but this is my first tumblr fic! i hope you guys enjoy :)

send me some fic prompts on angel radio!

[morganwrites12672]

Crush

Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: The sorority girl that Sam has had a crush on for ages approaches him at a party one night.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: 18+ Sorority Girl!Reader. Drinking. Smoking. It's a party. Smut. Fingering (f!receiving). Unprotected sex (bad idea, don't try this at home).

A/N: MINORS DNI also, thank you to @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles for beta reading and helping with some of this for me!

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The music was blasting throughout the house. Everyone had already drank too much. Well, almost everyone. She had been drinking soda all night. Being the designated driver was something she didn't mind doing. It was difficult though. Sorority girls were a fucking nightmare after a couple of shots.

Most of her Saturday nights were spent like this. The only difference was that by now she had usually gone upstairs with a guy. She leaned against the doorframe in the kitchen, watching the party. She took a sip of her soda. It was late, she was starting to get bored.

Parties weren't near as much fun sober. Probably because they had no real appeal. Without the liquor coursing through her veins all she saw was a bunch of idiots getting shit faced. She didn't think much of it. Next week, whenever one of her sorority sisters would be on designated driver duty, she would have a blast. Get shit faced, hookup. Anything she wanted. Anyone she wanted.

Being a sorority girl had benefits.

She threw her empty solo cup into the kitchen trash can before venturing back out to the party. She weaved her way through all of the drunk college kids. Knowing that she looked just like them on any other weekend made her feel a bit stupid. She ignored those thoughts. They wouldn't prevent her from partying next weekend. She needed to have something to look forward to after a week of hell.

She made her way to an area with less people; right beside the staircase. She noticed a man with shaggy brown hair and smiled. She could tell that he wasn't from one of fraternity's around here, or on the football team. That didn't seem to bother her for some reason.

She gave him a smile, her glossed lips shimmering in the lights of the party. "What's your name?" She asked him, eyes taking him in. He made her stomach do a back flip. The feeling was. . . oddly unusual. It almost made her do a double take.

The mans cheeks turned a soft shade of pink before he replied. It wasn't that hard for her to notice how flustered he was. She found it adorable. Again, something oddly unusual. She usually chose guys with a lot more confidence.

"Uh, Sam." His words were nearly drowned out by the music of the party. He realized how quiet his words had came out and repeated them a bit louder. His eyes drank her in. He couldn't believe that she was talking to him. The girl he'd had a crush on for most of his time at Stanford.

"It's nice to meet you, Sam." She replied before giving him her name. She fixed a piece of hair that had fallen into her face, pushing it behind her ear so that it wouldn't bother her any longer. "Did you come here alone?" She asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

"N-no. My friend made me come," He replied. He ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair to fix his messy bangs. Her eyes lingered as she watched him. He noticed her gaze and his blush deepened.

His words made her smile brighten, "I take it that means you're available?" She asked. She wanted to confirm that he was single. She might get called a slut but that doesn't mean that she goes after guys in a relationship. It's not her fault that most lie.

Sam's eyes went wide. His heart hammered in his chest. He stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. Was she seriously asking him that question? He had known who she was before she'd introduced herself. Who didn't? She was pretty and popular. Sam had always hidden a tiny crush on her. Well, him and half of the other guys at this school.

"I-I am."

"Good," she said with a smile. She fixed her dress, pulling the hem down from where it had ridden up on her thighs. She loved the dress she was wearing. It was gorgeous and fit her body like a glove. The only issue was how much of a pain it was to keep pulling it down all night. It was worth it though.

"You look nice," Sam said, having built up an ounce of courage (which has already vanished). He was nervous as hell. Confidence wasn't his strong suit.

She leaned in a bit closer. "Thanks. You look great yourself," She replied. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. He looked like a god damn dream. She wondered how she hadn't noticed him before tonight.

Sam's eyes lingered on the way her sparkly eyeshadow gleamed in the light. He couldn't help but admire her. She was fucking gorgeous tonight, and any other night. He thought she looked incredible no matter where he saw her, or what she wore. She was perfect in his eyes.

"I'm gonna kiss you now, okay?" She said, making sure that he was okay with it. It wasn't often that she was the one to make the first move. She enjoyed it. Usually guys were pawing at her body with their tongues down her throat before even asking her name. Sam was different.

When Sam stayed silent she pressed her lips against his. She guided one of his hands to rest on her hip. She deepened the kiss, her tongue slowly sliding into his mouth. His lips tasted like cheap beer and Carmex.

He let out a soft groan as she kissed him harder. He let her have most of the control, going along with her movements. He let his hand gently squeeze her hip. She didn't seem to mind.

She pulled away after a minute, wanting to see the look on his face. The look on his face made her want to drag him upstairs that very second. His cheeks were a perfect shade of pink, his mouth hung open slightly, and his eyes were wide. She noticed the way his hazel eyes stared at her lips.

She noticed a smudge of pink gloss on his upper lip and wiped it away with her thumb. It made his blush deepen even more. Every touch from her had his body on fire. He has a chance with a girl he'd had a crush on for a while, he couldn't screw this up.

"That was-" she began to say but was cut off whenever Sam kissed her. She let out a small gasp against his lips. She hadn't expected him to do something like that. Not that she minded, not one bit.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He moaned into the kiss as she gently tugged on the hair she had been playing with. She walked a few steps backwards, all while still kissing Sam.

Whenever her back hit the wall, she leaned her head back to catch her breath. Sam pressed a cautious kiss to her collarbone. Her body arches into his touch and a smile spread over his lips. He kissed his way up to her jaw line, not yet brave enough to leave an actual hickey. Soft kisses would have to do for now.

"Let's take this upstairs," She said with a smile. Her lip gloss was smudged. She knew it, and didn't give a fuck. She would fix it later. Sam took a step back from her so that she could lead the way. He wasn't sure if she had a specific room in mind.

She walked past him, grabbing his hand as she walked. They walked last a couple drunkenly making out on the stair case, she rolled her eyes. At least she had the decency to get a room. Well, whenever she was sober. Tonight was making her rethink how often she drank. And how wasted she got. Maybe Sam would be a better influence on her.

She walked to the end of the hallway, finding a door that didn't have any noises coming from behind it. She gave sams hand a soft squeeze before opening the door and walking inside. She wasn't used to guys treating her this way. Sam made her feel special, even if she's barely even met him.

The door was shut and locked as soon as they had both stepped inside. She looked up at Sam, admiring every feature of his face. She couldn't help herself. He looked at her in a way that made her feel special. She didn't feel like some cheap hookup. She felt like he wouldn't leave her the second he got his fill.

Her hands went to the top button off his shirt. She paused though. Her eyes met his. "I'm going to take this off now, okay?" She said to him.

"Y-yeah. Okay" Sam's breath caught in his throat as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt. She wasn't ripping his clothes off. No, she was taking her sweet time. She wanted to enjoy every second of this. And she would.

As she was unbuttoning his shirt, she leaned up to kiss him again. His hand rested on her hip for a moment before resting on her ass. The two made their way to the bed, their lips never separating. It seemed as though breaking the kiss for even a second would be the end of the world right now.

She laid back on the bed. Sam's shirt had fallen to the floor sometime during the short walk over to the bed. He looked down at her with a smile. She was beautiful. He would never get tired of this view. He could only hope that he'd get the chance to see her again.

She sat up before adjusting the pillows behind her. She leaned back, half sitting up. Sam moved towards her and his hand gently cupped her jaw before kissing her again. She grabbed his wrist and guided his hand to her thigh.

She let her hands drift to the waistband of his jeans. She palmed his growing erection through the thick material. He broke the kiss, whimpering against her lips. The beautiful sound made her chuckle softly.

"You like that, huh?" She asked with lustful eyes. Every sound that Sam made had her going crazy.

Sam's cheeks turned red and he didn't reply, his gaze drifting down to the cleavage visible with how low cut her dress was. His eyes widened slightly. He didn't like how easily she was able to fluster him.

"Have you done this before?" She asked. She wanted to make sure that he wasn't about to lose his virginity at a shitty party.

"I-I have," Sam replied a bit quieter. It has been his first year at Stanford with some girl in his old English class. It hadn't been at a party like this though. No, the girl had been over at his apartment to study.

"Can I touch you?" Sam asked as his gaze went even lower. "Please?" He added. His eyes couldn't budge from her thighs. Her dress had ridden up whenever she had sat up against the pillows.

She smiled and pushed her dress up over her hips before spreading her legs for him. Sam grazed his fingers over her black underwear. He looked up at her to see her reaction.

Her breathe caught in her throat. Her core was throbbing. She was desperate for his touch. She noticed his hesitancy. She lifted her hips up a bit and he retracted his hand. She slid her underwear off.

"It's okay, you can touch me." Her words were gentle as she guided his hand to in between her thighs.

Sam slid a finger through her wetness and she gasped. She let her head fall back on the pillows, her hair sprawling out around her. Sam's touch was cautious. She grabbed his wrist and made his fingers prod at her entrance.

"U-use your ring finger first."

Sam followed her instructions, gently pushing his ring finger inside of her. He heard her gasp and looked up. He pushed his finger in all of the way and she groaned.

"Now c-curl it."

She moaned as he followed her instructions. The noise made Sam freeze for a moment. The second she bucked her hips against his hand he went back to curling his finger inside of her tight cunt. The noises coming out of her had his cock straining against his jeans. He attempted to ignore it as he curled his finger a little faster.

She gently wrapped her fingers around his wrist and he froze. She guided his hand so that his ring finger was now curling while thrusting in and out of her wet cunt. She moaned again, he was a fast learner even if his previous experience was more limited than hers.

"Ah-Add another," She gasped as she felt heat build up in her core. She felt Sam slip his middle finger inside of her. She rocked her hips in time with the thrusting of his fingers. Moans escaped her throat as he worked her open. "Fuck! Just like that."

"D-do you like this?" Sam asked. "I-i mean it sounds like you do but. . . I want to make sure I'm doing. . . this. . .right," He stuttered, not stopping his movements. Her cunt squeezed around his fingers.

"Y-yes!" She moaned. "J-just like that. You're doing such a good job for me," She gasped. She grabbed his other hand and moved it to her clit. He seemed to understand what she wanted and began rubbing sloppy circles on her puffy clit.

Her thighs had a slight tremble as her cunt squeezed his fingers even more. His fingers rubbing her clit sent jolts of pleasure throughout her body. She could feel her orgasm creeping up on her.

"I'm close!" She moaned as she clamped down around his fingers. Her head fell back as her orgasm washed over her. Sam felt her walls tighten around his fingers as her moans increased in volume. He kept thrusting his fingers, riding her through her orgasm as her moans grew more strained. She grabbed his wrist as a signal for him to stop. The overstimulation left her cheeks flushed.

His fingers slipped from her sopping hole, and his eyes flicked to her face, wide with awe. She took his wrist in her hand, guiding it to her mouth, and sucked on his fingers, letting her eyes flutter closed, she swirled her tongue around his fingers. A low moan escaped her throat at the taste of herself. Her eyes fluttered open and she giggled at the sight of Sam. She couldn't help herself. His mouth was hanging down for God's sake.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, as she pulled him down to her level. Her lips pressed against his. Sam was still frozen in a combination of shock and awe. He thought all of the noises that he had pulled out of her. As they kissed, her tongue invaded his mouth. Sam let out a small, needy whimper as she kissed him.

She sat up, pushing him down onto the bed before straddling his waist. Her hands went to the zipper of his jeans. She looked up at him. Sam's face and chest were flushed, his lips were red and slightly puffy, he already looked so fucked out and she had barely even touched him. She didn't waste any time in unzipping his pants. Sam lifted his hips and helped her get rid of the constricting material.

She teased him over his boxers. A strangled moan escapes Sam's throat as she ran her fingers over his clothed erection. His head dropped down onto the pillows, she gazed at his exposed throat. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the smooth expanse of delicate skin. Sam's breath hitched in his throat at the feeling of her lips.

"P-please. . . Please," Sam practically whimpered.

She let out a soft chuckle. "Please. . . what?" She continued her movements, gently running her fingers over his clothes erection. "I need you to use your words for me, sweetheart."

Sam's hips buck up, desperate for more. "P-please," He moans out. His chest heaves as he fights to keep his breathing even. "I need you to f-fuck me."

She tugged on the waistband of his boxers. Sam quickly lifted his hips so that she could rid him of the pesky material. She wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and gave it a light squeeze. She admired the pretty pink tip, leaking precum.

She lifted her hips before lining up her entrance with the tip of his cock. She had to admit, he was definitely larger than most guys she'd slept with. She wasn't going to tell Sam that though. She studied his expression with a small smile on her face. Sam watched her every move with his jaw slack, quiet moans leaving his throat.

She sinks down on him and his hands fly to her hips. She places one of her hands on his chest for support. She moans as she slowly sinks down. The stretch is a burn that quickly fades into an ache for more.

"F-fuck," She moaned out, adjusting to his size.

Sam was a beautiful mess beneath her. His hands squeezed her hips, just for something to hold onto. His body quivered ever so slightly. She felt so fucking tight around his cock. She'd barely even started and he could already feel heat forming in his stomach.

He moaned out her name as she rocked her hips. "P-please," He gasped as she lifted her hips up before dropping back down. Every thrust of her hips had him begging for more. The feeling of her tight cunt wrapped around him was almost too much.

He let one hand fall from her hip and slide in-between her legs. As his fumbling fingers found her clit, she let out a small gasp. Her eyes met his. It was the most gorgeous sight Sam had ever seen. Her tits bounced with every thrust of her hips, her lips were parted as she let out another moan, every piece and part of her was perfect.

How had he gotten this lucky? He never would have thought that she ever find out he even existed. Let alone wind up in bed with him. The view in front of him was like something from one of his wildest fantasies.

"Y-you look. . . s-so perfect," Sam half moaned, half whimpered as his fingers rubbed tight circles on her clit. He experimented with the speed. Whenever he hears her breath hitch in her throat he knew that he was doing it right.

She struggled to keep up her current pace with the way that Sam's cock hit that place inside of her cunt that practically made her see stars. Her lower abdomen was on fire. If Sam didn't slow down she might come quicker than she had been expecting.

"F-fuck! Just like that," She cried out.

Sam might not be the most experienced guy ever, but he was definitely a quick learner. The hand that wasn't on her clit went to her chest. He gently massaged one of her breasts. The soft skin felt like heaven beneath his hand. He squeezed her nipple and she moaned even louder. He was carefully watching every reaction she had, making sure that he was doing all of this right.

"Y-you feel so good," He whimpered.

His back arched up from the bed as he felt her walls tighten around him. He could feel his orgasm creeping up on him. His hips bucked up, meeting her thrusts. The action made her cry out.

"I-I'm. . . I'm about to come," Sam whimpered, his chest heaving.

His fingers had found a steady pace on her clit. Every circle of his fingers sent white hot pleasure coursing throughout her body. The way his hands carefully gripped at her chest. He soon moved the hand that had been on her chest, to her hips. He attempted to help guide her thrusts. She seemed to be tiring out.

"M-me too," She replied with a moan. She could feel his cock twitch inside of her. His eyes rolled back as his grip on her hips tightened. It only made her work harder. She was so fucking close. Sam wouldn't be able to last any longer.

He cried out from the overstimulation as her tight walls clenched around his cock, her own orgasm making her thrusts shaky. She felt pleasure overtake her body as Sam kept circling her clit with his no longer ungraceful fingers.

She guided his hand away as she slowly rocked her hips, basking in the subtle feeling of overstimulation. She slowly sat up before she stops. Her legs had a slight quiver as she walked into the bathroom. The loud music of the party was muted through the door. Though, it was obvious that the party was not even close to being finished for the night.

"Do you want to hop on the shower with me?" She asked with a smile. Sam's eyes went wide (for the hundredth time that night) before he climbed off the bed. He was standing at her side in seconds.

"T-that sounds nice."

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

A/N: Don't forget to leave a comment or reblog if you enjoyed it!

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[lonely-moons]

♡୭something good | sam winchester x reader, pt. 1

title: something good, pt. 1 (read pt. 2 here)

pairing: stanford!sam winchester x socially anxious!reader

warnings: lotssss of overthinking, reader is awkward and a nerd but also lowkey a little cool, social anxiety, sam winchester being a cutie patootie, references to fandoms i'm not in rip lotr fans and dnd players my bad

summary: when you're forced to tackle a group project, you briefly debate throwing yourself in a pit of fire - you're not much one for working with other people. but maybe this is something you needed after all

wc: 2,412

masterlist

when your professor first mentions the words 'group project,' you have to physically bite down on your tongue to avoid groaning. they're the bane of your existence, and you allow yourself a moment of wondering whether education is really worth all of this. but you force it down as your class ends and make your way to where the list of names has been tacked to the wall, a sigh crawling its way up from deep in your chest.

you find your name next to one you can't place a face to. it's not surprising - you don't really have any friends in college, something that's followed you through from school even after you'd tried so hard to evade it. the college emails of each student are in a column beside the names, so you take note of it and hope to god that whoever sam winchester is, he's at least going to pull his weight.

you get the email from him before you're done with classes for the day, a simple one asking you when you'll be free to discuss the work. you both decide on tomorrow evening in the library, you moreso hoping to just get this over with rather than being particularly eager.

the time rolls around quickly, and at 7 p.m. the next day, you're heading to the library with a dread roiling in your gut. it's not that you hate meeting new people - you're just bad at it. you never quite know what to say, and even if you think you do, it always seems to come out wrong. like the words somehow scrape along the sides of your throat as they crawl their way up, get tossed about on your tongue until they're coming out completely unrecognisable from how they started. it's something you've always dealt with, but it seems to get worse as you get older, while everyone else prances ahead and you're left behind in the dust.

you don't have much hope as you're greeted with the musty smell of the library, your eyes scanning around for someone who looks like they could be there for a group project. you spot three candidates, three guys on their own, but two of them you vaguely recognise from classes.

it's a brief moment, but the panic sets in so entirely that the seconds seem to stretch on for minutes. you're so desperate to escape the embarrassment of going up to the wrong one that you consider leaving, sending sam some message about an emergency coming up and hoping that this goes better next time. but then one of them turns around, his eyes catching on you, and he smiles in your direction.

he shifts in his seat to face you a little more, his hand raising into small wave. your panic flushes out entirely, and you mentally chide yourself for being so dramatic. you're okay, you tell yourself as you head for the seat at table. you don't need the adrenaline levels of someone being hunted for sport.

"hey," he says when you're close enough, slinking your bag off of your shoulder. "y/n, right?"

"yeah, hey." you send him a smile that you hope looks okay. in your head it's still tinged with the remnants of some of your previous panic. "sam, i hope?" you wince; who the hell else would he be at this point?

but his smile remains intact. "yeah. it's nice to finally meet you. i mean, i've seen you around in classes and just on campus, but you usually look pretty busy."

you've slid into your seat, the uncomfortable wood making you want to shift around, but you remain still. if you were on your own, you'd probably have your feet up on it by now, shimmying around to find some kind of position that works. but you are not alone. "busy time of year." you shrug, knowing that he probably hasn't seen you around and is just being polite - maybe he has, but you're positive he wouldn't remember. you've never been one to make much of an impact.

"hey, i get it," he says. "sometimes it feels like they expect us to just give up on sleep entirely."

you think of the dark circles under your eyes that you'd half-heartedly tried to cover with make up. "tell me about it."

he perks up a little, remembering something. "by the way, speaking of, i got us some fuel." with the pen in his hand, he gestures to the share bag of m&ms that's beside his water bottle. "apparently chocolate helps with concentration levels."

you look at the bag, and somehow your simple comment of thanks turns into - "isn't it dark chocolate that does that?"

sam doesn't miss a beat. "yeah, well dark chocolate would make this even more miserable."

your lips twitch slightly. "fair."

"so, anyway, you wanna get started on this?"

you begin to look at the project guidelines, silently reading over the instructions even though you've done it about ten times today alone. but you appreciate the minute to gather your thoughts, trying to keep your eyes on the paper and not glancing at sam.

he's sweet, is the first thing to come to mind. you've witnessed plenty of college boys who act as though they run the place, who treat anyone different than them as lesser creatures. you thought people were meant to grow out of all that crap after high school, but evidently they had missed the memo.

you think that sam would be a nice friend to have, if only you knew how to go about doing that. the entire future of your interactions play out in your mind: you'll meet up a couple more times to do this project, maybe say something to one another in the class where you submit it. at most, any passing greetings will last a week before he manages to shake you off, and then you'll be back to another face in his class once again. even if you did ask for his number under the guise of project work, you know you'd never be able to text him after it was submitted. he wouldn't text you either. not only would you be a forgotten name, but also a random set of digits in his phone. the thought feels heavy in your head, refusing to budge.

"hey, are you okay?"

you blink, startled slightly, and find sam looking at you. there's a small crease between his eyebrows that makes it look like he genuinely wants to know.

"yeah." you clear your throat, wondering how you'd managed to zone out for so long. not for the first time, you wish the ground would swallow you whole. "yeah, i'm good. sorry, just got lost in thought."

"no, don't worry about. have you thought about which sections you want to cover?"

you spend the next few minutes dividing up which of you will cover the different topics of the paper. he's sweet about that too, always letting you have the first choice and triple-checking that you're okay with what you've landed with. by the time you're getting ready to move onto the next step, he's opened the packet of m&ms.

you worry that he's noticed your glance in their direction, because he takes a few for himself and then nudges the bag in your direction.

"concentration myth might be a bust, but they do taste pretty good."

you let a reluctant smile crawl up your face and grab one to pop into your mouth. turning it down would feel mean and, besides, you do really want some.

"so what classes are you taking?"

you glance at sam, not that surprised. the typical round of polite questioning has happened before, mostly during the first weeks, but they still pop up occasionally. especially when you don't have your crowd and every exchange is with someone new.

you list off your modules like second nature. "and for extra credit this semester i'm doing occult studies."

his eyebrows raise, like he's a little surprised at the fact. "occult studies, huh? like supernatural stuff?"

your polite smile turns a little sheepish now. "yeah. i've always kinda been into that kinda thing and they had space, so..."

he nods a little, like he finds it interesting, like it answers something he's been wondering. "oh, i get it."

"get what?" you ask, taking another m&m if mostly just to give yourself something to do.

"you're a nerd."

you crunch down on the shell in your surprise at his words. but they're not laced with mockery or any kind of insult. if anything, they're just a little teasing, interested, and the grin on his face makes you believe he doesn't mean any harm.

you look down at your outfit on impulse. "was it the spider-man shirt or occult studies that gave you that impression?"

you hadn't noticed that his grin was a little tight, but now it loosens completely. he seems glad that you're leaning into this. "actually," his eyes flicker down to your backpack, "it was more the 12-sided dice key chain."

"technically it's a die because it's only one -" you cut yourself off at the amused look on his face, wondering why you were becoming so free with trusting your mouth to open. it's all his fault, stupid sam winchester and his stupid smile. "never mind."

"no, tell me about it. you play, uh..." he thinks for a moment, "dungeons and dragons?"

it's the first time you've given in to shifting in your seat. you know how people view the game, how often people make fun of it. your small group in high school hadn't even lasted two years before disbanding. you'd kept it up as a solo hobby ever since, even if it'd been way more fun with the extra three people.

"... a little." you hate that it comes out almost defensive, like you've been conditioned into having to explain yourself. you wait for a follow-up comment, something you'll dissect late into the night as you look from every angle at how it's further ruined his perception of you.

"what's it like?"

your pre-prepared wince isn't needed. "the game?"

he nods.

you wonder if he is genuinely curious or just that good at acting. "oh, um... it's fun, i guess. kinda like an interactive book or something, you know?" now you get to use that wince.

"you like to read?"

"you've already called me a nerd, i think you know the answer to that."

his laugh comes out as a huff of air. "i'll join the club, then, i like to read too."

"what kind of stuff?"

"oh, you know, just the classics. i don't really go near anything written after the nineteenth century."

"oh." you clear your throat, any hope of relating vanishing. "that's, um... cool."

"i'm kidding," he says lightly, eyes flickering to your hand that's still clutching the pen you haven't even used in fifteen minutes. "i like lord of the rings."

your hand clenches, the ring on your finger suddenly feeling heavy. for your last birthday your parents had gotten you a replica of the one ring. you wore it almost every day. you're surprised sam had noticed.

"you like fantasy?" it comes out more bewildered than you'd like, but you really wouldn't have guessed it to even be in his top three genres.

"yeah, i've read a lot of it."

"huh."

"what?" he raises an eyebrow, amused.

"didn't take you for a fantasy guy."

"why not?"

you know your real answer, the one that remains firmly locked inside your head: he's attractive. annoyingly so. and, yeah, you know that looks don't dictate what's inside and all that crap, but from your experience, people who look like him don't go for that kind of stuff. then again, lots of people who look like him aren't generally so nice either.

you shrug. "you're a law guy. that usually means pretentious."

"we take the same classes, you know."

"which means i've witnessed all that pretentiousness first hand."

he releases a small laugh and something about it warms your chest. it hits you then that you're really just having a normal conversation. maybe it's sad, but it's been a while since it's come this easy. you blink and go for another m&m so that you can tear your eyes away from his face.

"you're something else," he says.

your hand pauses for just a second in the bag and you ask, as though the answer doesn't even matter to you, "is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"good," he answers, like he hadn't even considered the alternative. "it's definitely good."

you grow a little uncomfortable under how genuine he sounds, and it certainly doesn't help that his stupid smile is still there, still directed right at you.

"you'll take that back once i've eaten all your m&ms." you steal another for good measure.

"well, what chocolate do you not like? i'll bring that next time."

the dig is what registers first, which you're glad for as your body automatically releases a mock gasp. it's a much better reaction than being surprised he wants to meet up again, which is what sinks in now. this project doesn't focus too much on the group aspect; you easily could've gone your separate ways and just emailed one another if you needed to check anything. one more meetup, max, if any problems came up, but nothing long enough for a study snack. you half assume he just said it for the joke - you usually would - but there's something that tells you he means it.

"and here i was thinking you're not half bad."

his smile is more of a smirk now. "is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"bad." your expression half matches his. "definitely bad."

the conversation keeps up until before you know it, the librarian is ushering you out for closing time. you don't even know how it happened, but somehow underneath those fluorescent lights and across from sam, you actually enjoyed meeting someone.

sam asks for your number before you head your separate ways. you try not to act surprised, but something about the way his own smile widens at the light in your eyes makes you think that he knows you'd been hoping for it.

you go to bed that night the lightest you've felt in weeks, with sam winchester's number in your phone and his stupid smile ingrained in your mind's eye.

[stargazedwinchester]

ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `catcall ii, sam winchester ༘♡

summary: sam saved you before the situation got worse. now you need to find him to thank him. word count: 614 pairing: sam winchester x reader another request from my girl @wendichester <3 part 1

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧

You can’t get over what happened.

Sam was a hero in disguise. It felt as if you could’ve put multiple neon signs above your head screaming ‘IN DANGER!’ and no one would’ve batted an eye.

Except for Sam.

You’ve seen him around, more often than you ever have before. Textbooks clutched in his arms, backpack hanging from his left shoulder. He’s tall, rugged, looks like he should play hockey or something. He doesn’t know you, but you know him.

It was almost fate that he was there when you needed help two weeks ago. Right place, right time.

You never had a chance to thank him properly, to actually look him in the eyes and tell him he saved you. To him, it might’ve seemed like he was just doing you a favour, like it happens often. Like it was nothing.

Why has no one ever mentioned how hard it is to find one person in Stanford? It’s huge. It’s mighty convenient that people only ever show up when you don’t need to talk to them, but right now, it’s like playing a game of Where's fucking Waldo.

You’re assuming he’s hanging with friends, or in his dorm. You meander to your locker and fit your textbooks into place and secure it with the lock. Lunch is nearly over, so you’re preparing for your last class. Turning around, you bump into a solid broad chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, turning back around to you. He flashes you a quick apologetic smile, then his eyes really see you.

“Sam!” you call, grabbing his attention. He’s walking with his friends, but stops in his tracks. He ushers his friends to move along, telling them that he’ll meet them later. “Y/N, right? From the other night?” He asks you, and you’re somewhat taken aback that he even remembers your name.

“Yeah. Sam, I really wanted to tell you thank you. You really don’t know what you did for me that night. Truly.”

He chuckles lightly, a dimple appearing on the left side of his cheek. He runs his hand through his hair, ruffling his fingers through the back of his head. “No problem. Guys like that seriously have no brain cells. Once they think they have a chance, everything up there switches off.”

“Lights are on, but no one’s home.”

“Exactly!” He laughs, a full smile practically brightens up his face, like sunshine on a chilly spring day. You can’t help but smile, too.

Sam hesitates for a second, glancing at the floor with his lips slightly parted. He looks behind him, pressing his lips together, lingering for a minute second. “I guess I’ll see you around, huh?” He says, turning around. But then he stops.

“Actually, no,” he huffs, circling back around to you. “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“I really don’t want to push my luck and make you think you owe me, which you don’t—obviously, but I have to ask… Can I take you for coffee sometime?”

There’s that dimple again.

“Of course, Sam. I’d love to get coffee with you.” Your heart practically beats out of your chest, Tom and Jerry style. “Tomorrow?” You ask him, hoping that you don’t sound desperate. But the thought of spending another couple of weeks without seeing him, without speaking to him. He’s like something you’ve never seen before. Handsome and kind? You must be dreaming.

“Tomorrow.” He confirms, giving you a warm, cozy smile as he turns to catch up with his friends. You stand with your back to your locker, swooning for a guy you’ve spoken to twice.

This is insane. You feel insane. Are you crushing too hard too soon?

Who cares. It’s Sam fucking Winchester.

[s4wdvator]

AFTERCARE ALBUM BOT'S !!

౨ৎ ⋮ AFTERCARE — sam winchester

౨ৎ ⋮ PORNSTAR — dean winchester

౨ৎ ⋮ HEARTBEAT — jensen ackles

౨ৎ ⋮ DISCO — lucas scott

౨ৎ ⋮ PASSENGER PRINCESS — sam winchester

౨ৎ ⋮ MUSTANG BABY — jensen ackles

౨ৎ ⋮ RUSSIAN ROULETTE — nick jones

౨ৎ ⋮ S.L.U.T — jensen ackles

౨ৎ ⋮ BABYDOLL — jensen ackles

౨ৎ ⋮ GIVEN ENOUGH — damon salvatore

౨ৎ ⋮ EDWARD SCISSORHANDS — sam winchester

౨ৎ ⋮ GLITTER AND VIOLENCE — dean winchester

౨ৎ ⋮ PINS AND NEEDLES — sam winchester

౨ৎ ⋮ STAY ALIVE — jared padalecki

౨ৎ ⋮ DIRTY LITTLE SECRET — jared padalecki

౨ৎ ⋮ REQUEST are OPEN!! You can make your request either in my ask or here!

tags of people that i think would like to see this post: @mxltifxnd0m @figurantedefilme @nuemanfilms @dolliristel @castiwls @fallbhind @ryvkkr @deansbite @rubyvhs @jasvtsc @sammyluvr

[hobiespick]

dog person [a sam drabble]

Stanford Sam with a puppy. Numerous torn leashes. Stumbling from Sam as the energetic little beast keeps running between his steps. Sam enjoying the privilege of owning his own apartment and adopting a dog like he always wanted. Early mornings spent pouring kibble into a small metal bowl and nights with him calling his dog for bed, basking in the soft pitter-patter of paws making their way to his bedroom. Taking walks around campus. Instant 'aww's from girls walking by him. This huge responsibility helping Sam's habit of staying inside too much. He goes outside more since he has to walk the dog and buy dog food and such. The dog nibbling on Sam's socks while he is trying to study. He takes the beastie with him everywhere.

Being at the park one day when something jumps on you. You turn around and it's a puppy who is mostly big paws and pointed ears that resemble antennas in some way. A few dopamine induced seconds go by with you petting and cooing at 'Bones', as the collar reads; before a guy comes up. Shaggy hair and the most hazel eyes you have ever seen, Chili Peppers band tee peeking from his half-zipped hoodie. His face is pulled in a worried frown. You think he and Bones look alike in some form. The guy apologizes something in regard to how his dog got off the leash and how 'he's never been this crazy' but you don't catch most of it. Actually you don't catch a word. Your heart feels like Its thrumming up your throat. This guy is beautiful. The baggy clothes do nothing to make him seem lanky, he is too..wide for lanky. Under that hoodie is Michelangelo's David. His unspoken presence alone has an air of 'safe'. You cut him off when he starts nervously babbling due to your (struck) silence. Saying something along the lines of Oh I don't mind! Also your dog is very cute!  It takes some serious self control to not bat your eyelashes while looking up at him. And oh my God you have to crane your neck a little bit to actually look at him properly.

You get to talking and you find out he goes to Stanford too and you have friends in common. Sam combs through his memory, how could he have not noticed you before? He has been busy with his classes and Bones but you immediately grab his attention and he doubts he is the only one who feels that way. You exchange numbers and plan a date. Bones is brought too by your request<3

[saltcxrcle]

must be love ❥ s.winchester

summary: social media/modern era au with stanford! sam winchester

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

warnings: none really, no use of 'y/n', fluff, slice of life, references to drinking, and one mention of sex

a/n: first social media au so please be nice to be loll. but this was fun to make! and who knows i might make more in the future 🤭

also happy b-day to jared padalecki our cancer king 😩🙌 (him being a cancer makes so much sense to me), and the user: dianhhboo is actually my friend to introduced me to spn and i wanted to add her in the fic 🤭

reblog and comment! i love to see your thoughts on my fics (even if this isn't technically a fic lol)

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

yourusername

liked by jessymoore, samwinchester, and 1490 others

yourusername life lately <3

tagged: jessymoore, dianahhboo, samwinchester, deansbaby67 +3 more

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jessymoore we need to have more girls nights, finals are going to kill me ↳ yourusername 100% this paper might make me off myself ↳ dianhhboo remind me why i decided to major in psych 😭 ↳ jessymoore because we wanted free therapy after we graduated

deansbaby67 fyi i totally kicked your ass in cards ↳ yourusername mhm sure you did deanie you were totally not drunk off your ass the entire time ↳ deansbaby67 @ samwinchester sammy come and get your gf she's being mean to me ☹️ ↳ samwinchester not my problem 🤷‍♂️ ↳ deansbaby67 im never visiting you ever again

+ + +

samwinchester

liked by yourusername, dianhhboo, and 986 others

samwinchester study date for the LSATS with my love (we consumed so much coffee but she still fell asleep)

view all 532 comments

bradybunch dude i thought you said you wanted to study alone ↳ samwinchester your idea of studying is just having your work out and being on your phone ↳ bradybunch harsh... but fair

yourusername i was running on fumes and that book was really boring i couldn't help it ↳ samwinchester how much sleep did you get in the past week... ↳ yourusername ummm like 5 hours... ↳ samwinchester per night? ↳ yourusername ...the entire week ↳ samwinchester BABE!? that's it, you're not studying anymore, come to my dorm, we're going to bed ↳ yourusername 😏😏 ↳ samwinchester we're SLEEPING honey ↳ yourusername 😒

deansbaby67 nerds ↳ samwinchester really dean? ↳ deansbaby67 just calling it how i see it ↳ samwinchester whatever 🙄

+ + +

yourusername

liked by deansbaby67, winchestermary, and 1567 others

yourusername guys i love my bf 🥰🥰

tagged: samwinchester

view all 990 comments

deansbaby67 barf 🤢 this is not what i wanted to see first thing in the morning ↳ yourusername sorry mr. one night stands ↳ deansbaby67 are you slut shaming me? ↳ yourusername ofc i am 😍

samwinchester i love you too but why those photos 😭 ↳ yourusername why not? i need to show the ppl my smoking hot and sweet boyfriend 😘

jessymoore youre cheating on me?! im leaving and taking the kids ↳ yourusername WAIT NO BABE HE MEANS NOTHING I SWEAR DONT TAKE THE KIDS ↳ jessymoore too late the papers are on your desk ↳ deansbaby67 wth did i just read?

+ + +

samwinchester

liked by dianhhboo, bradybrunch, and 1053 others

samwinchester love you my silly girl ❤️

tagged: yourusername

view all 865 comments

dianhhboo you guys are disgustingly cute ↳ jessymoore right? like please we get it you're in love

yourusername ive trained you well in taking candids 🤭 also when did you take those photos? ↳ samwinchester a magician never reveals his secrets 🤫 ↳ yourusername you're a dork ↳ samwinchester ah but you love this dork ↳ yourusername unfortunately ↳ samwinchester UNFORTUNATELY??

yourusername im kidding i love you sammy ❤️ ↳ samwinchester i love you too i guess ↳ yourusername oh great ive triggered sassy sammy

+ + +

yourusername

liked by jessymoore, bradybunch and 1267 others

yourusername officially moved in with sammy 💛

tagged: samwinchester

view all 763 comments

deansbaby67 uhh at least tag me for helping you two dweebs move in? ↳ yourusername sorry 🙄

yourusername add'l creds to @ deansbaby67 bc he's a big baby ↳ deansbaby67 thank you future sister-in-law ↳ yourusername @ samwinchester 🤨🤨 wanna explain? ↳ samwinchester @ yourusername not really

winchestersmary congrats on moving in you two! i hope to see you soon ↳ yourusername aah thank you mary we'll be visiting for christmas 😁

samwinchester i love you baby ↳ yourusername love you more sammy ↳ samwinchester impossible

[oopsdevil]

the stanford connection

pairing: sam winchester x reader

tags: stanford!era sam, academic rivals to lovers, sam stays in stanford!au, reader is a bad b who walks him like a dog, fluff, a friends reference at the end.

of course it happened today. of all days. the only night of the last week when you could catch a break from everything and just sleep.

but no. you forgot your fucking key. maybe if your roomate wasn't, once again, sneaking out to fuck that asshole business major, she could have opened the door! but no-

"its cold"

your thoughts were cut by a very familiar, attractive voice.

no shit, winchester. you decided against voicing your sarcastic comment.

"very" you replied, suddenly very aware of the old shorts and stretched long sleeve shirt you wore.

"what happened?"

god, it's like he did it on purpose.

mr. right, mr. im the best, mr. every teacher likes me. ugh. the worst was, he was all of that.

even after years of being self proclaimed academic rivals, (a result of him, being an excellent future lawyer and you, an oldest daughter who cant shut the fuck up) he was still a gentleman. it doesn't matter how much you debate or ignore each other. he just couldn't help it.

he would always open the door for you, give you the better chair at class, get a book at the library that was too high for you to reach, even look down when walking up the stairs behind you after discovering that you were living in the same building floor. all that, in silence. no teasing, no thank yous expected.

and now this. it drove you crazy.

"locked myself out" you responded dryly.

you looked up, catching a glance of those beautiful eyes, pretty dimples, soft hair-

wow. no.

"-but only if you want!"

what? fuck sam, stop talking when im talking to myself.

"sorry?"

"i said you can sleep with me if you want to"

a beat. an eye contact. your smirk.

"I MEANT CRASH WITH ME!"

oh, this was going to be fun.

"oh yeah? what like you want me to sleep in your bed? now you wanna watch me sleep too?"

"what? no! i-i meant-"

"are you some kind of weirdo now, winchester?"

"i-i no! god i- what i meant was-"

"okay relax! nervous nelly, im kidding"

he exhaled and the color went back to his face. but now everything was quiet, awkward, and the most you have talked without rolling your eyesat him.

"okay"

you were just as surprised as him for your sudden answer, but no backing up now. not that you wanted to.

after much talking, laughter and a confession, he kissed you that cold night, pretending like he hasn't been waiting for years.

turns out, he wasn't that bad. sure, he corrects you when you say something wrong, and is annoyingly sweet to the point he wouldn't talk shit about a professor just because they were old. but that was his thing, his honestly and purity. his ability to read you like one of those books he devours, his calming presence, stupid jokes and stories about his big brother.

speaking of dean, he was probably the happiest about the situation. he was NOT going to listen to his brother speak about his embarrassingly big crush on you.

"jesus sam just tell her you like her, whats the worst thing that can happen?"

"she could hear me!"

oh, that definitely went to your wedding speech.

[easytiger-xo]

❤︎ the year is 2005 & you're about to send Sam a friend request.

⟡ Fun Fact: 'star <3' is an actual picture of me from '05 that was absolutely on my myspace profile.𖥔 ݁ ˖i feel so honored to of made Sam's top 8.

𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒎'𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 (spotify) ♬⋆.˚

[sweeterthancandy]

working on a stanford!sam x cheerleader!reader fic rn mmmmm big nerd.. 😋

[losers-clvb]

ICEBREAKER three

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

content: language, slightly ooc sam, so freaking sweet it makes me want to cry, smut (semi-public making out, sammy gets hard in a bookstore, grinding, dirty talk, fingering, finger sucking, protected piv sex)

word count: 7.8k

note: okay, i went a little crazy with this, but there was no way to break it all up. hope you love it <33

Sam couldn’t believe this. He had his dream girl standing in his favorite store holding a battered-but-beautiful edition of his favorite book. All of this after he had just discovered his new favorite cafe, a title given simply because it was her favorite.

Thank God Dean wasn’t here to bear witness to how down bad he was. Sam would never hear the end of it.

“Have you read this?” Your voice broke him from his thoughts, which was for the best because why the fuck was he thinking about Dean when he had you looking up at him like that?

“Hmm?” He hummed, looking down at the book in your hands. He already knew what it was – a third-edition hardcover copy of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit –, but he had to play it cool, act like he hadn’t noticed every book you’d even just brushed a finger over.

You held the book up for him, flipping it around in your hands so the cover was facing him. He smiled at the way your fingers curled around the edges, holding it delicately as if it was a glass vase.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve read it, once or twice.” Sam answered, casually. He thought for a moment, then decided he had to give you more. Why was he so nervous about your opinion of him? “Actually, that’s my favorite book. I can’t remember how many times I’ve read it.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning the cover back around so you could look at it again. You traced a finger over the illustrated mountains.

“I liked the movies.” You mumbled, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes. “But my brain doesn’t like high fantasy. Too hard to read.”

“You once read Crime and Punishment.” Sam replied deadpan. He knew you were a smart girl, probably the smartest he knew – though he was a bit biased in his thinking.

“I can read just fine, Sam,” he didn’t think there was a lovelier sound than you saying his name, “it’s all the… elves and weird terminology. It pulls me out of it. I just want to close my eyes and imagine the world the entire time.” You shook your head dismissively, placing the book back into its display stand.

Sam breathed out a laugh. He was standing behind you, giving him the perfect opportunity to bend down to your level. His chin hovered over your shoulder.

“Maybe you just need someone to read it to you. Let you close your eyes and imagine the world.” He spoke straight into your ear. Something bloomed in him – lust? love? – when he caught the shiver that ran through you. His heart swelled when you turned your head to lock eyes with him.

“Are you offering?” You had that sexy smirk on your face again, the one that made Sam want to lean in and kiss you until your lips were indented into his forever.

“Maybe.” Playful innocence dripped from his tone. He watched your eyes flick down to his lips. Good, he thought. Let you make the first move, make sure this was something you actually wanted.

“Is this before or after the extraordinary sex I was promised?”

Fuck, Sam was in trouble. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hide his physical attraction toward you.

“I never said ‘extraordinary.’” Sam mumbled, leaning closer. Your noses bumped, lips brushing when either of you spoke.

“I may have embellished it a bit.” You whispered, eyes still locked on his. “You’ll just have to help me figure out if I was correct or not.”

Sam’s eyes slowly closed, squeezing shut as he tried to keep himself from taking you right up against the bookcases. When he opened them again, he caught the amusement on your face, corners of your eyes crinkling while you held back silent laughter.

“I’ll do more than help you.” Sam leaned in, connecting your lips. He melted into you when he felt you kiss back. He brought his hands up to your cheeks, cradling your face while he smoothly brought himself to stand in front of you.

You licked across his lip, silently asking for entrance into his mouth. He allowed it because he’d be crazy not to. Your tongue pressed against his, wet and sliding into his mouth. He loved it, maybe loved you, but it was too early to say.

He shuffled closer to you, letting your bodies press into each other. You clutched at his hoodie, holding him close like you were afraid he would run away. Sam groaned at the mental image of you doing that in the mornings, waking next to him with his shirt bunched in your hands.

Hesitantly, he pulled away, then, because he really couldn’t help himself, placed a few pecks on your lips before fully standing up straight.

“We-,” he took in a breath, trying to level out his heart rate. “We should-,” he groaned at the sight of your swollen lips and smiling eyes, “God, we need to go, now.” He finally growled out, grabbing at your hips.

“You don’t want to look at more books?” You asked with faux innocence, and he really would have found a way to hide his semi if he thought you were serious. He could see the hunger burning in your eyes, ready to pounce on him at any given point.

“I have books at my place you can look at all night long, if that’s what turns you on.” He panted out, squeezing your sides. You grinned at him. “But I really, really don’t want that old lady at the desk to overhear any noises you might make if we stay.”

“Noises I make? What about the ones you’ll be making?” You were really pushing his buttons now. He was sure he would absolutely lose it if you weren’t out of that store and into his bed in the next ten minutes. He threw his head back with a groan, gently walking backwards while tugging you toward the door.

“Come on, pretty girl, are you torturing me on purpose?” He kept his voice hushed, eyeing the rows of shelves for any occupants who may be offended by his desperation.

“Yeah, I am, actually.” You had no reason to talk low, confidence seeping out of your words. He mentally thanked you for your steps that matched his, making it much easier for him to drag you out.

“You enjoy this, huh? Making out with me in front of Carroll and Shelley then acting like it’s just another day?” Sam was going to burst with attraction at the wide grin that spread over your face. He watched you glance down, taking note of the way his jeans were just the slightest bit tighter around his crotch.

“You seem to enjoy it.” You teased, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth. He hoped that within the next few moments, that lips would be in between his teeth instead. He rolled his eyes playfully, quickly spinning you two around so you were in front. He placed his hands on your shoulders, practically gluing himself to your backside.

“That’s why we have to go.” He urged quietly into your ear. He could feel your ass rubbing against him through his jeans, making him almost regret walking so close with you. He couldn’t make eye contact with the register attendant, not when she bore a resemblance far too close to his own grandmother.

“Have a good day!” You beamed at the woman. Sam didn’t know how you did it, not when he was growing harder against you by the second. He mumbled something that resembled your words, his fingers gently gripping onto you.

Sam guided you to the left, eyes trained on his apartment building. He saw the path in his mind – door, stairs, door, door, bed –, but before he could point out the direction he wanted you to head in, he was slammed against the side of a building.

His face contorted into confusion. One look at your face – at your blown pupils and flushed cheeks – had that confusion morphing into smug understanding. He took in a breath, meaning to speak, boast about you being the horny one. His words were snuffed out before they had a chance to get out, your lips locking onto his.

His curious thoughts as to how you were able to push his six-foot-four frame into this alleyway in the first place were replaced with a hurricane of you. He put those panic attack prevention techniques Dean had taught him to good use now, finding anxiety and love – or was it only lust? – to have similar effects on his heart.

Five things he could feel: your lips notching into his, your hands tugging his neck down, your hair tangling in his fingers, your thighs squeezing around his knee (he’d skillfully nudged it in between your legs just moments before), and your tongue pressing into his.

Were they all supposed to be about the same person?

Fine.

Five things he could hear: your his heartbeat thundering in his chest, your breaths heaving into his mouth, your little whimpers as he–

Fuck, he was in trouble. He could feel it, just as he had felt it freshman year in that damn psychology class when he first made eye contact with you.

You were going to create a whole lot of chaos in his life. One way or the other, his heart was yours, his entire being was yours.

What the hell? He didn’t do this. He didn’t act like such a fucking sap, no matter what Dean tried to give him shit for. It wasn’t as if he was against relationships. If he had it his way, he’d have been taken off the market in that first moment he’d seen you.

Instead, he gave hook ups a try. He’d left that to Dean in high school, letting his education take center stage even when he barely had to study for anything.

He didn’t fuck mindlessly. He gave those girls a good time, helping them come as many times as they pleased, and he always gave aftercare. No question about it, Sam was a giver more than he was a taker.

It was just… he didn’t really care about them.

Okay, shit, that sounded bad. He cared, but he didn’t… love them. Love. There it was again. He felt like a child for thinking that way, saying he loved you when he’d only just formally met you.

It was true, of course, because why would anything in his life be ‘normal.’ He loved you. He just wasn’t going to tell you that, not right now while making out next to a dusty-ass Honda.

“Stop.” Sam mumbled, immediately cursing himself for even uttering a mention of that word. He didn’t want to stop. In fact, it was the last thing he wanted to do.

You pulled away, lips peeling from his like they had a mind of their own and didn’t want to let go either. You settled down from your tiptoes, feet flat on the ground and pout set on your face.

“You want to stop?” Your voice purred out to him, tempting him like a siren song to a lonely sailor. He cursed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut like it was all a dream.

He opened his eyes again and, guess what? Not a dream. There you were, standing beautiful as ever with those swollen lips and messy hair.

“No, God, of course I don’t want to stop.” Sam’s voice was hushed. He didn’t know why he felt the need to be so gentle with you. It wasn’t because you couldn’t handle tough. There was no doubt in his mind that you could fight a battle on your own and come out victorious. Maybe he just didn’t want to be the thing to hurt you.

He brought his thumb up to swipe across your bottom lip, smearing the shine of spit that lingered there. He tugged it down, letting your teeth peek through while you looked up at him, waiting for more.

“I saw this going a bit differently…,” he mumbled, gaze still trained on your lip as he pulled his hand away from your face.

“Less kissing?” You asked with a grin that told him you knew it wasn’t that.

“No,” he let out a soft chuckle, “more kissing, actually. Just… laying down, in my bed.” He thought for a moment. “Less clothes,” he added with a teasing smile.

He watched the words register in your mind, watched your hands curl into fists as if you were trying to control yourself just as much as he was. Your throat moved slightly when you swallowed, drawing his attention to your neck.

Your neck, which was already pretty enough on its own but – in Sam’s personal opinion – would look so much better with a few nibbles bruised into it.

“We can remedy that. The ‘less clothes’ thing.” Your eyes narrowed and he knew you were simply digging a deeper grave for his ability to have casual sex. “And all the rest of that. Maybe add some of how I thought tonight would go.”

“How you thought it would go?” He questioned with a raised brow.

He shouldn’t have asked that because the smirk it elicited had him holding back a groan of desperation.

“You know,” you shrugged, running your tongue across your teeth, “your head in between my thighs, getting that pretty face a little wet.”

Oh. My. God.

Sam was about to fucking bust and you’d barely touched him.

“You think I’m pretty?” He asked, avoiding replying to the other stuff because it would only end up with a public indecency charge. You scoffed, reaching out to clutch his hoodie.

“That’s what you got out of that?” Sam heard the annoyance, but he knew how to read through it. You were throwing it in there on purpose, using that attitude that would be the absolute death of him. He bent down, face level with yours now.

“I got a lot more out of it, trust me. Sounds like we need to pick things up and take them across the street.” He leaned his head forward to speak in your ear. “I’m hoping to get my face more than ‘a little’ wet.”

He smirked at the visible shiver that ran through you. He pulled back, kissed you one last time – because how could he not? –, and stood up straight, pulling you into his chest with one arm.

He swore you were about to sprint to the apartment building, but maybe that was just his ego talking.

—

You were actually about to sprint into this guy’s place. You held yourself back, somehow, forcing your legs to move at a quick but normal pace. Sam’s arm around your shoulders wasn’t helping your self-control and you had a feeling he knew that.

You didn’t know what was going on. This wasn’t you. Sure, you had said ‘no hook ups during competition season’, but it was more of ‘no hook ups ever.’ You’d had your casual flings and occasional one-night stands, of course.

They hadn’t felt like this. They weren’t horrible, you’d gotten off and left whoever’s bed satisfied. It was different with Sam.

Wild. Hungry. Desperate. Gasoline to fire.

You felt like he wanted you for you, not just another warm body in his bed. You tried to tell yourself it was stupid to be feeling this way. It didn’t work. Not when he was groaning your name and smashing his lips to yours the moment the door closed behind him.

You melted against him, letting your entire body fall into his. He caught you, because of course he did. It only added to your heart’s reach for him.

You felt his arms flex around you, holding you tight to his body. A whimper – oh, you were gone – vibrated from your throat, encouraging Sam to lift you. His hands slid down to the backs of your thighs, pulling them up to help you wrap your legs around his waist.

You arched into him, practically climbing his body now. He still had to bend his neck to kiss you, but now his face was angled up with you tugging on his hair to keep him like that. He grunted and you felt his fingers digging into your thighs.

You heard a few thuds, presumably things falling to the ground as Sam walked to his bedroom. Honestly, you couldn’t care less about whatever destruction was left in your wake. You wanted Sam, and you wanted him now.

Bump.

That was the back of your head against a bedroom – Sam’s bedroom – door. You cringed, ducking your head forward.

“Jesus Christ…” Sam mumbled, immediately cradling your head with one of his hands. His fingers weaved into your hair. You were about to pull back to ask him if he was always this clumsy when you felt him kiss your head. Repeatedly.

“What are you doing?” You giggled out, trying to twist away from the constant peppering of kisses into your hair. It only encouraged him to continue.

Eventually, you cupped his face in your hands, smushing his cheeks together and pushing his head back gently. You raised a brow at him, panting, half from the previous making out, half from your overabundance of laughter at Sam’s actions.

“I was ‘kissing it better,’” he explained, a goofy grin on his face. His words were muffled a bit due to your hold still on his face.

“You know that doesn’t actually work, right?”

“Does your head hurt?” He asked, adjusting his grip on your thighs. When you shook your head, his smile widened. “See?”

“It wasn’t from the kisses.” You argued. You couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed. It was too… sweet, too innocent of a gesture from him. It made your heart swell when he raised a brow and nodded confidently.

“It was totally from the kisses.” He told you. He didn’t give you a chance to argue back. His lips were back on yours, the door behind you finally opening to allow you passage inside.

Sam stepped into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Apparently he hadn’t meant to do that because a second later he mumbled an ‘oops’ against your lips. You smiled into the kiss, dipping your hands under the neckline of his shirt to touch his bare skin.

Suddenly, your world was tilting, and not just in the metaphorical sense. He lowered you to the bed, slow, your hair falling back to hang behind you like you were falling. His lips were fervent on you, sucking on your bottom lip in a way that made you whimper for more.

Sam hovered over you, hand sliding from under your thigh to your ass. He squeezed softly, pulling a moan from the back of your throat, something you didn’t know was a thing. When was the last time you moaned from a simple squeeze?

You hadn’t noticed the shift of his lips, his kissing moving from the center of your lips to the corner, then your cheek, then your jaw, ultimately landing on that little spot on your neck that was the most sensitive. You whined low and long at the nip he gave it, somehow knowing that was the perfect place to do it.

“So sensitive,” he teased, words mumbled against your skin.

“I am not-,” you started to argue back when he nibbled at the spot again, proving his point to be accurate. You lifted your hips up, needing to meet his in an attempt to get some friction where you really needed it. His hand flew to your side, holding you down.

“Is this what you want?” Sam asked, eyes serious. You narrowed your eyes at him, lips curling in confusion. “Is this, the hooking up, the sex, actually what you want?” He clarified, thinking you were unclear about what he meant.

“What gave you the impression it wasn’t what I wanted?” You thought back on your reactions thus far. Moans, whimpers, and grinding? Were those not clear indicators that you wanted to fuck this man?

“You just-,” you watched him shake his head, “you said, before…,” he noticed the amused expression on your face as you took in his blustering. “Pretty girl,” he said, no stutter heard this time, “do you want to have sex with me, tonight, in this bed?”

You cracked a wide grin.

“Mmm, so the university did give you guys that consent talk last week.” You teased, remembering how irritated the hockey coach had looked coming out of a conference room, a crowd of boisterous hockey players behind him with handfuls of condoms. Sam groaned, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder.

You decided to put him out of his misery since, well, you were kind of getting desperate to take your clothes off, too.

“Yes, Sam Winchester, I want to have sex with you, tonight, in this bed.” You declared. Upon hearing this, he lifted his head, looking at you like a golden retriever that had just been offered a treat.

“Thank God,” he murmured with a grin, jumping straight into peppering kisses all over your face, much like that same golden retriever would have. You laughed, loud and unrestrained, shaking your head back and forth in an attempt to get him to let up on you, if only to let you breathe.

“Sam!” You squealed, hands clutching at his chest. He laughed with you, kissing lower until he was at your collarbone. His attack on you turned slower and sloppier, his tongue flattening against your skin with every kiss.

It was safe to say you weren’t laughing anymore.

Panting breaths left your lips, growing sharper as he touched you. Your eyes fluttered shut, making you focus solely on how good his mouth felt on you.

“Sam…,” you said again, this time slow and needy. You moaned as he moved lower, lips and tongue and teeth running over the tops of your breasts. You’d worn that v-neck shirt for a reason and it was paying off immensely now.

Sam’s hands held loose on your hips, not to hold you back from moving, more like he needed to just have you in his grasp. You found yourself needing the same thing, needing more than just touching him. You wanted to stay here forever, with his attention on you and only you, worshipping your body like a proper disciple.

You spread your legs wider to allow his shoulders through them, his head now hovering above your stomach. You looked down at him, eyes locking with his. He curled his fingers around the hem of your shirt and you prepared to help him rid you of the garment. Instead of pulling it up your body, he grinned mischievously and tucked his head under the fabric.

Your jaw dropped as he moved, part of you shocked that he was now trying to force his wide torso into your shirt, the other part forgetting what the hell was going on because he was licking up your abdomen. He wiggled up your body, peeking at you from under the neckline.

“You’re stretching it out!” You protested when you heard a pop. Sam smiled at you goofily, locking eyes as he kissed your sternum. You narrowed your eyes. “I’m never going to be able to wear this shirt again.” You grumbled.

“Take one of mine.” He mumbled, eyes closing as he kissed sloppily at the skin just above the cup of your bra.

“What?” You scoffed, using every bit of willpower you had to not whimper at the graze of his teeth. Take one of mine, he had said. If you were up for thinking of more than what position you wanted to put Sam in, you would have come up with a witty comeback instead of feigning confusion.

“One of my shirts. Take it, as a replacement.” His hazel eyes popped open again, a smirk growing on his face. “Or all of them, if you want. You’ll have your pick of them.”

“What about this one?” You questioned, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie. He raised an eyebrow, the look in his eye telling you he knew exactly what you were playing at. He slithered out from under your shirt, sitting on his knees between your legs. He looked down at you as you instinctively checked yourself.

Sure enough, the fucking shirt was stretched out in the most unflattering way.

“Told you…,” you mumbled, glaring at him with only the slightest bit of irritation, which quickly dissipated to nothing when he started to pull his hoodie off, taking with it the t-shirt that had been underneath.

What you were left with was his bare upper body practically taunting you. Pecs, abs, and the most bite-worthy biceps you’d ever laid your eyes on. You met Sam’s eyes again, an open-mouthed smile taking over your face.

He dropped the hoodie-shirt bundle off the side of the bed just in time for you to pull him down onto you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, hands pawing at his shoulders, your lips smashing onto his in a sloppy mix of tongue and teeth.

“Mmm…,” you hummed appreciatively when he squeezed softly at your breast. Even with the cushion of your shirt and bra, you could feel his hand almost on your skin, making you want – no, need – more.

“Take it off,” you panted into his mouth. “Take it off, my shirt, take it off, now.” You were demanding and desperate, not able to find it in yourself to mask how you felt in that moment. To his credit, Sam listened well.

He dragged that useless garment over your head. His hands immediately went to your sides, fingers grazing over your ribs hungrily. You grinned up at him, pulling him back down, because what the fuck was he doing not kissing you?

Your tongues met before your lips did, twisting around each other in such a way that made you both groan. You arched your body up into him and he took the opportunity to slip his hands under you. You felt his calloused touch roaming against your spine, scraping on your skin in a heavenly fashion.

“You… feel so… good.” Sam groaned out that last word, tugging you closer to him. You let out a shuddering breath, not able to stop the whimper that followed it.

Fuck it, you thought. Let him see how badly he made you ache for more. It wasn’t as if it was one sided, that much was clear.

Sam knocked your legs apart, pressing his body into yours. He cupped a hand under your knee, bringing your leg up to hook around his body. You felt him through his jeans, straining in the denim and rubbing against your core just right. He was kissing you so intensely, with so much raw starvation, that his entire body rolled with the movements of his head, creating a steady nudge, nudge, nudge onto your clit.

Damn, he was right, you really were sensitive. That friction was creating a stew of whimpers in your throat, non-stop noise humming from you while you sucked on his tongue. Whimpers that quickly turned to gasping moans when his hand slithered into your pants, under those lacy panties you’d picked out specially for him and right onto your dripping heat, cupping over it to make you feel.

And, oh God, did you feel. You felt it all, every ridge of his fingers against your folds, the flex of his knuckles when he put on the slightest bit of pressure. You rocked into his hand, chasing more, more, more-

“More.” You moaned. Sam’s open-mouthed kisses on your cheek shifted up into another one of those grins that would have you smiling back if his thumb hadn’t started circling your clit. You sucked in a sharp breath.

“Oh, that’s good,” you nodded, still trying to play it casual, even with his fingers dipping in and out of your slick folds. “That’s,” you swallowed, “that’s so good!” On that last word, Sam had pressed his thumb flat on your clit, making you squeal in pleasure.

You felt his mouth go to your ear, breath hot against the side of your head.

“Let it go.” He whispered, not elaborating on what he meant. He didn’t have to. You knew what he meant, knew that he was aware of the fact that you were trying your hardest to fully control the situation.

Unfortunately for him, you were stubborn. You swallowed down another moan, tensing your jaw. You felt him toying with your entrance, dipping the tip of his index finger in and out. You bit your lip, hard, as you fought back a whine.

Sam noticed your struggle, feeling your muscles tense up under him from the struggle to not give in, not yet. You didn’t know why you felt the need to drag it out so far, to lie to both him and yourself about the effect he had on you. His response to your persistence was to slobber a kiss onto your quivering chin.

“Give it up already, pretty girl.” He mumbled, locking eyes with you. You narrowed yours at him, looking down at him through your lashes. You had a new dose of motivation to never give it up, making it your personal mission to keep full, total control of how you reacted to each and every one of his touches.

A personal mission that immediately failed the moment he plunged a finger into you.

You choked on your breath, your eyes falling shut. An embarrassingly animalistic sound vibrated in your chest.

“Mhm, there you go.” Sam chuckled when your thighs squeezed around his hand. He worked his finger slowly out, then right back in again.

“Feels so good…,” you whimpered, gasping like you couldn’t quite get enough air. You opened your eyes to find him smirking at you, a cocky sense of pride in his expression. Your gaze flitted down to his arm, where you watched his tendons flex under his skin while he moved his finger – oh, fingers, plural, he’d added another – inside of you.

“I know.” He nodded, lowering his mouth back onto yours. You groaned into him, rolling your hips down and down and-

Right there. Fuck, that was it, a mix of your clit getting swirled by his thumb and his fingers curling up inside you to hit the perfect spot, making for quite the perfect amount of pleasure to build up. You cried out a moan, sucking in breaths in between his sloppy kisses.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Sam murmured into your mouth, “I don’t know if I’ll fit.”

Even in your haze of pleasure, you couldn’t keep from replying to his cocky pride.

“Shut up and make me come.” You growled, grinding against his hand. He smirked, pressing down harder on your clit. You arched your back up with a sharp whine, clutching at his arm to hold onto something, anything to ground yourself to the moment. You were floating, not physically, but in every other way you possibly could.

“Come on, pretty girl, let me see that gorgeous face when you come.” He encouraged, voice deep and husky. “I want to see it again.” He shifted, pulling you in closer, eyes peering at you through lashes.

You couldn’t help but just… give in.

Your orgasm came to you with a flash of Heaven. Seriously, you swore you could hear angels singing to you. A soft, groaning noise fell from your lips, cut off by Sam kissing you with so much hunger you thought he would devour you.

He worked you through it, pumping his fingers with a sloppy rhythm that had you whimpering long after your release passed through. Once you had settled, body completely at ease, he pulled his digits from you, slipping them back out into the open air.

You saw the shine of yourself on them, the milky, slightly sticky liquid coating them. You dragged your eyes back to his face, catching the way his gaze was fixed on his own fingers. Your mouth parted as he guided them to his lips, taking them into his mouth with a guttural moan that had your need for more returning to your gut.

Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you tore his fingers from his mouth, replacing them with your lips. Your tongue pressed into his mouth, swiping through the spit that had accumulated within. There. You tasted yourself – your cum – mixing with what you knew was him.

A high moan reverberated through you. You clutched at his torso, pawing at whatever you could grab onto. You just needed him. There was something inside you, something deep and raw, that only he could satisfy.

You ripped away from him, panting. Your body trembled with the overwhelming urge to completely rip the rest of his clothes away.

“I knew you’d taste good.” Sam mumbled, fingers digging into your sides. You playfully rolled your eyes, absentmindedly running a finger down his abdomen.

“You know how to use your fingers well.” You pointed out with a shrug, eyes falling to his bare chest. With Sam’s rough chuckle, you looked back up to see a grin on his face.

“Are we just going to compliment each other all night?” He questioned. In response, you huffed out a sarcastic laugh.

“If you were to keep running your mouth, I wouldn’t be surprised.” You rolled your hips down, hard but measured. “Me? I think I’d rather talk less, touch more.” You watched Sam’s jaw flex, presumably with the effort to not completely moan like you knew he wanted to.

“I like your plan better,” was the last thing said before a flurry of grabbing and clothes flying ensued.

You swore all you’d done was blink and suddenly you both were naked, sitting on your knees across from each other on his bed. His eyes scraped over your bare skin, spending the most time focused on your now-bare breasts and what little he could see of your throbbing core.

Your attention? It was trained solely on his length. The tip was leaking with the ache to get inside of you, flared red and staring you straight in the eye. That wasn’t even the most mouthwatering part. It may not have been the thickest you’d ever seen, but for what he lacked in width he made up for in length. You weren’t the best with measuring things by eye alone, though you figured a ruler wouldn’t be too much longer than it.

Fuck, maybe he really wouldn’t fit in you.

It seemed Sam was reading your thoughts, because only moments after the words popped into your head, his smug reply made you glare up at him.

“Told ya, pretty girl.”

“You’re not that big.” Lie. You both knew it.

“Big enough for you to drool over.” He smirked at you, the tip of his tongue peeking through his teeth.

“I am not drooling.” You protested. It wasn’t a total lie this time. You really weren’t drooling, and the sudden overproduction of spit in your mouth had nothing to do with this god of a man in front of you. That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

“Mmm, totally drooling.” Sam mumbled. Your response was cut off by his large hands on your face, smashing his lips to yours. Tongues and teeth gnashed together, moans and whimpers mixing to echo off of the drywall of the room. You hoped these walls were thick. That thought, and every other, dripped away from your mind the moment Sam hoisted you onto his lap, his thick erection pressing against your dripping folds.

“Want… oh my God-,” you had to catch your breath when a slight shift in his position had your clit getting rubbed ever so nicely. “Do you want me to ride you, cowboy?” You’d added that last part in a purr after remembering the drawl of “darlin’” during your first meeting.

Sam’s grin tilted a bit, mouth parting as he looked at you as if you’d said something outrageous.

“What?” You were on the defensive, narrowing your eyes. You let out a shaky breath when he rocked his hips up, a deliberate motion, you realized a second later when his grin grew cockier.

“Cowboy?” He almost scoffed out, chuckling when you frowned at him. This time you rocked, making his eyes flutter softly. The break in his smug demeanor only egged you on.

“You-,” you swallowed down a whimper when Sam surreptitiously pressed your body down into his, earning him a glare that really would have been more annoyed if your skin wasn’t buzzing from the pleasure. “You have a slight accent.” You rushed the words out before they could be broken by a moan.

“I’m from Kansas.” He explained, giving you a boyish grin you were sure had wooed all the moms at school pickup. You let out a soft laugh at the image of a young-Sam – Sammy – getting out of trouble with a simple smile.

“Kansas?” You asked, tilting your head slightly. “Like Dorothy?” You hoped he’d get the reference, hoped the little joke wouldn’t fall flat.

“You’re so weird.” Sam chuckled out, swooping down to kiss you again. You, in response to his playful insult, ducked away, causing his kiss to land on the corner of your lips.

“You’re the one who barked at me!” You argued, looking at him like he was crazy. That moment, the playful banter that had happened only moments after he’d made you come for the first time, had been running through your mind on a loop, bringing a warm smile to your face even during practices. Practices, you know, the time you were usually the most disciplined and focused. God help you from this charming distraction.

“You called me a dog. How else was I supposed to respond, pretty girl?” Sam’s tone held a note of condescension that you couldn’t help but grin at. You shifted, moving your hips as a result, reminding you – in a particularly sinful way – what had been happening before this little spat.

“Are we going to argue about who’s weirder all night, or are you going to fuck me?” You raised a brow, challenge clear in your eyes. You watched a spark of playful determination cross Sam’s gaze. You felt two things: one, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, and two, his dick pressing against your folds, aching for more friction.

“I’m going with the latter.” Sam growled, smashing his lips to yours to cut off your giggle, quickly morphing your response into a moan. You panted into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut when he skillfully rocked your body down.

“Condom.” You breathed out, pushing on his shoulders to break the kiss. He grinned, leaning back and twisting to reach for his nightstand, causing those damn hips to lift up into yours. You bit back a whimper, refusing to entirely show Sam how desperate you were for another release.

He sat back up, a gold-foiled package in between two fingers – the same two fingers that had been inside of you earlier. You snatched it up, eager to get this thing going so you could finally feel that mind-numbing pleasure again.

“Just can’t wait to get me inside you, huh?” You weren’t looking at Sam, but you knew he was grinning from his tone alone.

“Shut up.” You grumbled, tearing open the packaging. The small groan that came from Sam when you slowly rolled the condom onto him made a smirk cross your face, giving you a sense of pride that you weren’t the only one who was going to be vocal tonight.

You looked up at him. His pupils were blown wide, crazy with a hunger only you could satisfy. You figured you looked similarly, if not more, needy, if the growing buzz in your body to just get his damn cock inside you was enough of an indicator.

Positioning him at your entrance was much more difficult than you had expected it to be. You would have gotten it, first try, if it wasn’t for the slip of his tip against your already sensitive clit, pulling a body-buckling moan from you. You let your pride step aside for a moment and allowed Sam to help guide himself to the correct spot, his large hand overtaking yours in the process. You tried – and failed – to not shiver at the size difference.

“I know you’re eager to feel me in there, but take it slow, okay?” Sam told you, raising a brow while he waited for your answer. You had half a mind to push away from him for talking to you with so much condescension. Unfortunately – or, rather, fortunately for your sex drive – the almost mocking tone of his voice sent a bloom of heat straight for your core.

You would hyper analyze that later. Right now, you were more focused on the first inch of his length sliding into you. Thanks to your previous orgasm mixed with the spasms of pleasure Sam’s words and body brought on, it was a reasonably smooth entrance.

“O-hhh…,” you let out with a shaky breath, eyes fluttering, but not closing, at the stretch. Sam’s fingers dug into your hips, helping you sink down.

“That’s it,” he mumbled, eyes glued to his quickly disappearing dick,“taking it so well.”

Once you were completely down, seated directly onto his hips, you just looked into his eyes, admiring the hazel hue of them. You kissed him soft and slow. It wasn’t hungry like the other kisses, though this would have been the time to do it. Those had sparked a flame of desire in you, making your body tingle. This one sparked something else. Maybe desire, but not in the same way.

Another thing to hyper analyze later.

You sucked in a breath after pulling away, hands still resting on his shoulders as you began to slide up and down. An occasional roll of your hips pulled groans from Sam, groans that, in turn, made you whimper in enjoyment.

“Fuck,” you both seemed to moan at the same time. You watched his face while you moved, eyes drifting over every expression and feature.

His brows furrowed in concentration. His lips parting to allow those enchanting noises to escape. His cheeks were flushed with a light pink brought on by the heat and passion emanating from you both.

All of it made you speed your pace, chasing more, more–

“More.” Sam whined so quiet you almost missed it. Whining? From the 6’4” hockey defenseman? You must have been hearing things.

“More.” Okay, this time it was less whine, more growl. It still stunned you, making your hips stutter to take in this new information.

Sam Winchester was a needy lover.

“Did you just-,” you started to ask, a grin spreading over your face.

“Shut up.” He growled, large hands splayed across your skin.

In a flash, you were on your back, Sam hovering over you. Oh, you liked this. Now he was doing all the work, thrusting into you at a quick but controlled pace.

“Oh my God,” you moaned, throwing your head back. He took this opportunity to latch onto your neck, teeth, tongue, and lips scraping over every inch of skin they could. Your body arched up into his. Your mind blurred with intense pleasure.

“Shit,” Sam groaned, “so good, pretty girl, so, so, fucking good.” He was panting into you.

Before tonight, you never understood the meaning of mind-blowing sex. Yeah, you almost always enjoyed yourself, but it was never so good you couldn’t think.

This? This was mind-blowing, breath-stealing, skin-tingling, out-of-this-world sex.

“You close again, pretty girl? You ready to come?” Sam asked in short, panted breaths.

Yes. Oh, God, you were so ready to come. It actually hurt a little to hold it back, but you weren’t eager to untangle from him this quickly. You couldn’t answer him. You had to stay laser-focused on not coming.

“Mmm, yeah, baby, I know you are. Stop fighting it.” He purred into your ear, lightly nibbling on your earlobe.

A whiny moan left your throat. It was getting very difficult to hold it back now, especially with the light curve of a smirk you felt brushing over your skin. You could do it. You just had to-

“Ah!” You gasped out.

All control in Sam’s pace was gone. He’d gone from steady, calculated thrusts to this animalistic speed. You heard the bedframe smacking against the wall in time with the push-and-pull pressure on your pelvis. Your nails scraped over his shoulder blades as you grappled for something, anything to hold onto.

There was no holding it back anymore. Your orgasm crashed over you, bathing your body in a numb ecstasy. Your panting breaths came out with a light whine attached. Then, as if he had been waiting for the feeling of you squeezing around him, Sam groaned with his release, shoving his hips as far as they could go into you.

Your trembling subsided, leaving you laying there, spent, with Sam’s entire body on yours. You suspected he was still using whatever strength he had left to hold himself up a bit, because there was no way he was this light.

He shifted, pulling out of you slowly, carefully. You winced at the sudden emptiness you felt, your eyes fluttering shut. You felt the mattress move slightly, some rustling, a soft sigh. It all felt hyper-real in your post-sex state. The dip of his body weight on the bed next to you told you he was back.

“Come on, pretty girl, sit up for me.” Sam mumbled, causing you to open your eyes. There he was, dressed in his boxers, holding that damn Stanford hoodie and a towel. Your heart melted when he gently wiped at your thighs and sensitive center, cleaning you as best he could. Your heart ached when he helped slide the hoodie on you, the fabric all but swallowing you up in a soft cloud of him.

Then, your heart exploded when he fell into position next to you, curling an arm around you with a book in his hand. You didn’t need to look, not really, to know what it was. Still, you did.

There it was. A love-worn copy of The Hobbit.

You looked up at him with tired eyes. You were sure they were sparkling with something that was different from the lust that had flooded them earlier. He just grinned down at you, pulling his blankets up to wrap around you two.

“Figured we’d better get started on it.” Sam mumbled, gently opening the book to the first page. “Eyes closed and imagination on, honey.”

You were speechless as he began to read, his voice husky but soft.

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.”

ICEBREAKER tags: @gigiwritess @h8aaz @angzls @myceliumsunshine @unfortunaterat @mimiimmii @youdontknowe

everything tags: @littlejackles @sacr1ficialang3l @blossomingorchids @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @mostlymarvelgirl @missus-ackles @tinas111 @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @saltcxrcle

sam winchester tags: @hobiespick @xoswiftieprincess @whothefvckami

[ohyouluckysaint]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 .ᐣ ⧽ ⠀ᛪ༙ stanford!sam ܸ﹙ s.w.﹚

ᶻz﹒₊ˎ SUM .ᐟ ⟣﹒ You and Sam are mentally suffering during exam week. What better way to blow off steam? Dinner comes first though.

cw ֪֪𓏼℘ 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 (𝟏𝟖+) ── MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 𝜗 ˚ ∿ smut, a sprinkle of fluff, afab!reader, established relationship, explicit language, reverse cowgirl position, kisses almost anywhere he can reach, mentions of mirror sex, unprotected sex, third person omniscient, no use of y/n, use of gender neutral pronouns, sam says “good girl” endearingly. word count֢ ࣪ ݂ 1.8k

No distinct skin color, weight, etc for the reader, but they’re shorter than Sam. Requests, reblogs, and feedback are encouraged.

“You actually did that? God, you’re the worst, Sam.”

“The music sucked, babe. They also couldn’t sing.”

They chortled at his insistence and shook their head lightly after he blathered about how karaoke went yesterday with his friends. They began twirling their wooden yellow pencil skillfully over their knuckles and the length of their fingers. Their leg bounced while now looking over an open page of a textbook as their plump lower lip was lightly tucked between their teeth—a sign they were focused and wracking their brain more than usual like for an assignment here and there. Sam noticed when he looked up from his and rested his veiny hand upon their thigh, smoothing over the fabric of their pants with his thumb to soothe them. “You okay?” He inquired.

“Mhm,” they curtly responded, even whilst that familiar wrinkle takes place between their brows. Sam wasn’t buying their hum of yes for a moment. He politely cleared his throat and gently squeezed their thigh to get their attention. “Wanna get some dinner? We could always hit the books later.”

“Sam–”

“Baby,” He tersely responded.

And it worked like a charm everytime. That maintained eye contact and smooth timbre with the convincing slight cant of his head to the side. It didn’t take long for them to end up at the diner they’d always frequent. The great service and decent meal helped with the experience. Sam just couldn’t help himself as he held onto their hand to help them out of the passenger seat, kissed upon their temple and then their cheek as they headed inside. A random vintage car model, a jukebox, and the occasional elderly couple with a grandchild who was likely complaining.

A sigh filtered through their lips as they sat across from Sam who was already looking over the menu to order for them both. “I’ll get a, uh, tall sundae this time,” they murmured to which Sam softly nodded and set the plastic covered menu down wordlessly. As if on cue, the waitress with a mustered gentle smile on her red lipstick stained lips made her way over. “Hi, I’m Brandy. What could I get started for you two?” She had a classic New Jersey accent like from the films.

Sam rattled it off while they had time to pick at the plastic on the menu cover and stare off into what they could make out through the diner’s blinds before Sam took their hand. They hadn’t even realized the waitress had left to put their order ticket in the queue for the chef. “Sorry,” they murmured and Sam shook his head. “No, you’re fine. Just wanna make sure you’re okay.” And they simply nodded.

“…Studying kicking you in the ass too?”

“Of course.”

“Can I help you this time?”

Their eyes widened a fraction at him saying that, his words weren’t all sweet and innocent as they sounded. They knew that too well. Sam’s helped them study countless times, it’s how they started speaking to one another after all. He obviously meant stress relief sex instead. Sam blinked softly as he waited for anything as he gently rubbed his calloused thumb over their knuckles.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Good girl,” He says that so warmly every time as a gentle smile crests the curves of his lips. He doesn’t mean anything sensual by it, but it never fails to make their stomach flutter and feel a little too warm. They squeeze their thighs together discreetly as if it’d quell the warmth blooming between their thighs and they politely clear their throat when the drinks are set down by the same waitress. “A tall sundae, for you. A black coffee, for you.”

“Thank you,” they synchronously answered as their respective drinks were given.

“Should we try the mirror thing again?” Sam casually asked after taking a swig of his coffee. Their eyes widen a fraction with recognition and they stop chewing on the stemless maraschino cherry they’d scooped from the pinnacle of the tall sundae. “What?” He responded, noting their surprise and giving them a confused look.

Yeah, about that.

The first time Sam had gotten into an argument with them? That was his way of apologizing once they finally started speaking to him again. But, he also repeated how sorry he was while staring back at them in the polished full length mirror a few feet from the bed. His hand pressed gently but firm, lithe fingers spread against the lower dip of their back, the other keeping their head up underneath their chin so they could look at him and themself the entire time. He was consistently thrusting against that delicious spongy spot deeply while he was whining or moaning right near their ear with his toned front pressed against their back or gritting his pearly molars.

When they started dating the guy, they didn’t expect him to be such a pervert. That’s not exactly a complaint though and they appreciated the desperate thorough apologies and “I love you’s” in their voicemail box they’d listened to on the drive there that day.

“Maybe something new.” They replied, a noncommittal shrug following. Feigning nonchalance as if they never froze at the mere memory of what they’d done before. The pads of his lengthy fingers tapped against the surface of the table in thought just when their orders were placed down and they said thanks again.

They spoke to each other causally during dinner like sex wasn’t the sole thing on both of their minds the entire time. More telltale signs from them than Sam though and Sam found himself smiling softly about it because he noticed every little thing about them.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest at some joke they’d told as they made it back into their shared apartment and he kissed their cheek and watched as they hummed and practically melted into the momentary intimacy. They slipped their shoes off at the door, their pair to the left and Sam’s on the right and evidently bigger.

“So, something new?” He asked as he shimmied his jacket off and helped them easily slip off his jacket that they’d borrowed.

“Can’t I surprise you?” they asked, turning to look up at him, to which he huffed out a breath of laughter with amusement laced upon his face. He stepped closer before resting a hand on the side of their face and maintaining eye contact again. He definitely wanted a kiss, and they melted into the touch of his hand with ease and rested their hand atop his. The kiss began gentle and slow, and then it kicked up a notch as they gripped onto the cotton fabric of his shirt.

He placed one hand on the back of their head and the other on their lower back as he carefully guided them to the bedroom through the medium sized halls of their apartment as they continued to kiss with soft laughter in between. He carefully twisted the knob and pushed open the door, steadying them when they nearly stumbled from the change then slamming it shut behind him, letting a cool draft of air in.

You’re both impatient, but once your lips part you’re helping one another take your clothing off. While they’re tugging his shirt off of his broad shoulders and over his head, he’s working at the metal button and zipper securing those denim shorts that cuff and hug their thighs at the hem. Their hands rest against his familiar torso as they kiss his lips for a moment before they continue until they’re both in a state of undress. Then they’re pushing him toward the bed slowly until he catches the memo to lay back on the comfort of their sheets.

He allows them to with no questions or complaint. They don’t make him wait, in sheer time they’re settling between his spread thighs on their knees with their hands planted flat on the bed in front of them to balance. Sam sits up to take in the sight, his earthy eyes dimmed with something carnal when he levels his gaze with them all ready for him. He grasped his girthy cock and pressed past their labia before dipping right in with a content sigh.

Their hips lower promptly to have him fully seated inside with near ease just as he moves his hand and he hisses out their name softly due to the stretch and warmth as his head cants rearward and lands on the assortment of pillows. Their hips roll slowly at first—it’s damn torturous, but he finds himself lifting his head to watch with soft pants and he even spreads his thighs a little more. It doesn’t quite beat the soft moans that start to filter through their lips once they finally bounce their hips. “Shit,” he curses breathily at the sounds they’re making and at the squelching feedback every time they sink down around him.

It doesn’t take long to gain a rhythm where they’re simultaneously moaning and the sound of their skin meeting is echoing off their bedroom walls as the bed lightly creaks beneath them. One sharp gasp, their hips stuttering, and their walls clenching is all it takes for him to know and he can’t help but rock his hips to further the stimulation as he grips onto the flesh of their ass. “You’re doing so good. You gonna cum?” He so fucking sly already knowing the answer. When they managed a nod with a shaky exhale, he hums lowly and slides one hand from around their ass, over their tummy, and down to the space between their legs.

He bit his lower lip for a moment as he pressed one of his fingers against their clit softly then traced lazy circles over their clit as they worked in tandem to climax. His cock twitches inside them and now they know he’s getting close, but neither stop just yet.

And then their hips stop just when the pressure near their navel snaps and they cry out his name while their nails cinch into the sheets, their walls fluttering around his length. He follows suit with a breathy groan, hips jerking once more, spilling while buried deep inside them as he finally lets up on rubbing their clit.

His hands rested against their thighs finally as he sat up and rubbed their thighs and then kissed their neck. “Wanna see your face,” he exhaled. They turned their head slightly before he leaned his head around and kissed their lips gently, sucking their tongue for a moment before pulling back with a soft slick noise.

When they lifted their hips with a soft gasp and turned to lay on top of him, he smiled softly watching them snuggle against him even with the minorly uncomfortable sweat waiting to slough off of their bodies with a nice bath. He wrapped one muscular arm around them while his free hand trailed along the bow of their spine.

“Let’s get cleaned up and pick up on the last set you needed help with. I’ll make you some hot tea.”

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 I stress that you do not repost, translate, alter, or plagiarize my content on any platform, including—but not limited to—my theme. You are welcome to take inspiration as long as you ask me directly and have my explicit consent.