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dollyzdaydreamz · 2 months ago

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sam winchester x fem!reader

Sammy Stamp

description: your tattoo artist friend suggests doing a 'random' henna tattoo on your lower back out of boredom. when you return to the motel, your semi-permanent tramp stamp practically turns sams brain into mush.

reader has ‘sammy’ on her lower back aaa ::>_<:: warnings: no nsfw, but slightly suggestive, fluff. spn masterlist

You and the boys were on a hunt in your hometown, so you figured you’d give your childhood friend a visit. Sam and Dean were oblivious to the fact that she knew you were a hunter. The poor girl had been caught up in one too many of your half assed lies and near death experiences when creatures had decided to hunt you back; so naturally, the secret had to get out somehow.

Her tattoo studio was tucked between a shuttered record shop and pawn store on the edge of town, its windows fogged by condensation. It was dim, but cozy in its own way. The walls were a patchwork of old band posters, ink designs pinned like sketches in your hunter journal, and a few faded Polaroids of past clients who’d braved bolder choices.

You were curled up on a faded leather couch in the front room, a chipped mug of hot chocolate cooling in your hand.

She was finishing a walk-in tattoo, leaving you to your thoughts, until your phone buzzed quietly on your thigh.

Sammy (2:43 PM)

Just checking in. You doing okay?

You smiled and gave him a call, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Sam echoed on the other end, his voice soft and familiar. There was a quiet rustle. Paper maybe, or an old book, then a sigh. “Just wanted to make sure you got there alright.”

“I did. She’s finishing up a piece. I’m just chilling here waiting,” You reply. "It was snowing a little last time I checked. You keeping warm?" He asked. “Yeah. Hot chocolate’s questionable, but it’s hot.” you chuckled softly.

He huffed a short laugh, and you could picture him, probably hunched over an old lore book, elbows on the table, sleeves rolled up.

“That’s good.” A pause. You could hear Dean faintly in the background, and the distant creak of motel floorboards. “I miss you.”

That pulled at something quiet inside you, making you smile, “I’ll be back soon.”

“Alright,” he murmured. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Bye Sammy.”

You ended the call just as your friend stepped back into the room, tugging off a pair of gloves. She eyed your expression with a grin.

“Sammy? That your guy again?”

You nodded. “Just checking in.”

She grinned, amused, “He’s the moose, right?”

You lifted a brow, “Moose?”

She smirked. “Tall, broad shoulders, hair like he lives in a forest?”

You paused, “Huh, I suppose he does look like a moose.”

She plopped down in the armchair across from you. “Yeah, I've see him and his brother around town. He seems good for you.”

You exhaled slowly, “He is. He’s smart and sweet. Sometimes it’s like he’s thinking five steps ahead but never makes you feel behind.”

“Bagged yourself a fellow nerd.”

“Yeah,” You sigh dreamily, “A cute nerd.”

She chuckled before leaning back, tapping her chin, “You bored?”

You shrugged, “A little. Why?”

“Wanna let me give you a henna tattoo?”

You hesitated, then gave a faint smile. “Ah, why not?”

“Dealer’s choice?”

You nod, "Yeah. I mean I trust your artistic instinct." She perked up at that, "Let's do one on your lower back! Like a cute little tramp stamp?"

“Go ahead," You shrug. "Something small though.”

You shifted to lie down on your stomach, pulling your blouse up just enough to give her space to work. The cool touch of henna paste startled you at first, but the process was slow and relaxing, the way she always was when she had a brush in hand.

She didn’t tell you what she was painting. Just chatted with you idly and occasionally adjusted your shirt. When it finally dried and she wiped off the excess, she handed you a mirror and let you see it.

A delicate bunny and moose, outlined with just enough detail to make them whimsical, sat in the small of your back. Above them, written in careful script: Sammy.

“You know what? This is the most wholesome tramp stamp I’ve ever seen.” You laughed quietly. “Why the rabbit?”

She grinned. “Hm, I guess you remind me of one. And like I said, that Sammy of yours is obviously a moose.”

You glanced back in the mirror, the figures sweet and strangely personal. “It’s adorable, thank you.”

“Anytime.”

By the time you two finished catching up it was getting late.

As you gathered your things, your friend caught a peak of the tattoo and snickered,

“Something funny?” You sassed, slipping on your boots and looking back to her smug expression.

“Sammy's gonna love it,” She whispered as she pulled you into a hug.

“Shut up,” You grumble, though you hugged her tighter anyway.

By the time you returned to the motel, the sky had dulled into twilight, the clouds washed in violet and gray. The scent of motel soap clung faintly in the air, and you could hear the bathroom fan running. Dean was probably washing up, taking advantage of the steam showers the receptionist was raving out. Sam was sat at the table, a book open in front of him, lamp light catching the edges of his hair.

He looked up as you came in. That quiet smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey. Have fun?” He asked, voice soft, eyes already on you like you’d been gone longer than just a few hours.

You nodded, toeing off your boots. “Yeah. She just wanted to catch up for a bit.”

“Mm.” His eyes lingered on you, then dipped back to the book, fingers absently turning a page. “Can you grab that old journal from the top shelf? The leather one with the green spine.”

You crossed the room, lifting your arms to reach the shelf. The hem of your shirt rose slightly with the motion.

And that’s when you heard it.

A sharp inhale. The sound of paper crinkling under a suddenly too-tight grip.

You turned, journal in hand. Sam was staring, not in the way he meant to, more like his eyes had found something and were refusing to let go. His mouth parted slightly, brows drawn like he couldn’t quite process what he’d just seen.

“Sam? You alright?” you asked, beginning to worry that he’d seen some sort of vision.

He blinked fast, dragging his eyes up to yours like he was trying to catch up. “What? Yeah—I’m fine,” he said, voice wavering. He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to the book like it could ground him. His leg had started bouncing.

You nodded, still unconvinced, but you didn’t wanna push it. You crossed the room to hand him that book he wanted, before getting ready for bed.

A few minutes later, you lay on his bed, facing him to get some shut eye, it was weird, but sometimes just watching work or do something quietly helped you fall asleep.

“Hey—did you...get a tattoo or somethin’?” he asked after a moment.

You glanced over your shoulder, then remembered, “Oh. Not a real one, it’s just henna,” you shrugged. “We were bored, so she gave me one.”

“Oh,” he nodded, lips pressed together like he didn’t trust them to say more. But his fingers fiddled with the corner of the page, restless.

So it was the tattoo that rattled him...

You felt a little grin tug at your lips, wanting to revel in the attention a little more. So you got up, padded toward him and lifted your sleep shirt just enough to show him the full thing, “Do you like it?”

Sam blinked, mouth opening, but nothing came out for a second. "Sammy?"

He cleared his throat when you turned back around, eyebrows quirked at his dazed expression.

“Yeah, it’s hot—or cute. If that’s—what you were going for…” He sputtered.

“Thanks,” you bit back a laugh. "So when are you gonna finish up?" You asked, sitting on his lap to push the brown locks out of his face, grinning at the way his shoulders slumped and his eyes closed, seemingly melting into your hands. "Mm, I don't know, soon," he murmured, face tilting to give your wrist a little kiss. "Could've gotten a real tattoo in all the time you've been sitting here," you chuckled. Sam's head was nearly lolling back, sleep beginning to overtake him as you continued to gently stroke his hair when you leaned into his ear to speak again, “I was never into tramp stamps but, I don't know, this one’s like my little Sammy stamp,” You whisper. His big brown eyes shot open. You could practically hear the gears grinding in his head as he tried to process what you just said. You weren’t sure if it was the nickname, the location of the tattoo, or the casualness in your voice, but something short-circuited in that big beautiful brain of his.

You leaned down, lips almost brushing his.

And then—

You pulled back with a soft yawn, blinking sleepily as you got up off his lap. “I think I’m gonna get some shut-eye.”

Sam stared up at you,

"Wha—Seriously?” his eyes narrowed in disbelief.

You stifled another yawn, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too obviously. “Yeah, it’s late and I’m tired.”

He gave you a flat, betrayed look, the corner of his mouth twitching in spite of himself. “You—” He scoffed, falling back against the chair back, “You planned that, didn’t you?” He was met with silence as you settled on the bed with your arms folded under your chin. The hem of your shirt rode up again, but you didn’t bother adjusting it, resting your cheek on your arm with a barely concealed smile and close your eyes. You let him stew in it, content in the knowledge that your little tattoo was doing exactly what your friend hoped.

Sam tried to read. Really, he did. But he kept tapping the same sentence with his pen. He felt his gaze drifting again, never quite landing, but never quite staying away either.

His thoughts were a mess.

Yeah, maybe it would fade, but it was his name. On your lower back. In a spot usually reserved for something…private.

And you looked so damn content. Like it didn’t even occur to you that it might be even the slightest bit suggestive.

…this ones like my little Sammy stamp

He groaned under his breath, before rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the page harder, “Sammy stamp...” he muttered with a huff, "Christ."

A few hours passed and Sam was finally calmed down. Dean had long since emerged and flopped onto the far bed, snoring within minutes. Sam finally shut the lore book, brain too fried to keep going.

Sam turned, and there you were. Curled into his bed, face smushed into the arm tucked under your cheek, the other draped loosely off the edge.

He moved quietly, slipping in behind you. The mattress dipped under his weight as he settled in, his body curving gently against yours. His hand brushed your back lightly, the way that usually helped you stay asleep. Then his fingers dipped to trace the soft shapes adorning the small of your back.

He hadn’t really looked at the design earlier, been too busy short-circuiting over his name. But now, in the moonlight peeking through the curtains, he saw what was etched below his name: a little rabbit, leaning up to a moose.

Sam's fingers gently pressed on the animals. He tilted his head, it sorta reminded him of the two of you. Then he huffed in amusement as the realization hit him, of course it was you and him.

He tucked his nose into your shoulder and closed his eyes, the steady rhythm of your breathing slowly pulling him under, falling asleep behind you with a little smile on his lips.

don't be shy, lmk what you think ! `(*>﹏<*)′ justice for tramp stamps frl, if i could get a tattoo, i'd get one there. they can be so dainty and cuttte.

#sam winchester fluff #sam winchester smut #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester headcanon #sam winchester #spn fanfic #spn #supernatural fluff #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #supernatural headcanon #supernatural #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut

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pyraomen · 3 months ago

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࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ 𝑱𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐄, 𝐈’𝐌 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝑻𝐎𝐎, elias moore.

𝑺𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─── ❝ i can easily understand why you're attracted to my man. but you don't want this smoke, so shoot your shot with someone else. ❞

꒰ elias “stack” moore x black!fem reader. established relationship. strong language, violence (threatening), gun mentioned, alcohol use, sexual references, verbal insults, mary slander. ꒱

[ꪆৎ] was having herself a good time down at the juke joint. her belly was full from that fresh batch of catfish annie had just pulled from the fryer; crisp, golden, seasoned just right. she’d even snuck a few sips of liquor from her man’s cup when he wasn’t looking, the warmth of it humming in her chest. the place was alive tonight, packed wall to wall.

sammie’s voice boomed over the crowd, deep and rich, weaving through the smoke and laughter like a sermon of rhythm and blues. the air was thick with sweat, perfume, and excitement. it was exhilarating, felt like home. folks were swaying, stomping, clapping, hips rolling to the rhythm of his song.

everything felt just right, until she heard her name.

mary.

“is that little mary?” she heard cornbread yell out and immediately came to an halt. she wasn’t usually one to eavesdrop, but when it came to mary, she was all ears. that girl was like a fly that wouldn’t quit buzzing around your kitchen — still hung up on her stack. there’d been more than a few run-ins between them, and each time [ꪆৎ] had tried to keep her cool. but tonight, she was fed up.

elias somehow sensing some shit was finna go down, appeared behind her. “what’s wrong, baby?” he asked, his voice low, eyes already scanning the room like he knew who the problem was. she turned slowly, locking eyes with him. “stack,” she said, voice flat and sharp, giving him a look of get her before i do. he let out a knowing chuckle and pulled the toothpick from his mouth, giving her backside a rough tap as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “i know, i know. i got it.”

stack wasn’t about to let it get ugly, not in front of all these folks, and especially not when he knew his woman didn’t play that. if mary didn’t leave on her own, one or both of them was looking to catch a bullet before the night was over.

[ꪆৎ] watched as stack made his way toward the entrance. she scoffed under her breath, shaking her head, then turned on her heel and made her way to the bar. the mississippi humidity clung to her skin, mixing with the slow simmer of anger already creeping up her spine. sliding onto a barstool, she fanned herself with her hand, though it did little to help.

her jaw clenched tight and eyebrows scrunched together. just the thought of mary trying her luck again made her skin itch. “need a drink?” came annie’s voice, smooth and matter-of-fact. [ꪆৎ] looked up to find the older woman standing behind the counter, a bottle of good whiskey in hand, the kind they didn’t pour for just anyone. she didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod, her fingers drumming anxiously on the bar top in a rhythm she barely noticed.

annie poured a glass, slid it across the counter, and gave her a look ; one full of shared understanding. wasn’t the first time a triflin heffa tried to sniff around one of the smoke-stack twins. and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

she took a slow sip of the whiskey, letting the burn calm the storm in her chest. or trying to, at least. the joint around her pulsed with laughter and music, but her focus was drawn to the front door, past the crowd ; where stack stood talking to her. their voices were low, but every now and then a word or two slipped through the rhythm of the joint.

“i was just... stoppin by,” mary said, her voice syrupy-sweet, the kind of tone women like her used when they were up to no good. [ꪆৎ] paused mid-sip, her ear twitching in their direction.

“you know i always had a soft spot for you, stack,” mary continued, a little louder this time, like she wanted [ꪆৎ] to hear. [ꪆৎ] set her glass down a little harder than intended. annie didn’t flinch, just raised an eyebrow, ready to step in if needed.

before she could make the decision to waltz over there. she heard stack let out a long sigh, voice laced with irritation. “mary, this ain’t the time or the place. i suggest kindly you get the fuck up outta here before i get one of these field bitches to do it for me. or better yet, get [ꪆৎ] to handle yo ass, you know she been itching for the right moment too.”

that should’ve been enough. but of course, it wasn’t.

mary let out a loud scuff, obviously feeling like somebody. “i’ll beat up every bitch in here and you know it.”

that did it.

[ꪆৎ] stood up slow, eyes never leaving the shadowy outline of the two at the door. her pulse thumped in her ears, the whiskey mixing with heat and rage. she didn’t shout, nor stormed ; she moved graciously through the crowd like a woman on a mission.

annie just shook her head, muttering under her breath, “lord help that girl … she don’t know who she messing with.”

the crowd parted for [ꪆৎ] like it always did. some out of respect, others out of fear, but most just knew better than to stand in her way when she moved like that. her dress swayed with each step, graceful but sharp, the small pistol tucked in the folds at her thigh brushing against her skin like a silent reminder. the music didn’t stop, but the energy in the room shifted, low murmurs stirred, a few folks, cornbread included backed away from the door, sensing the storm brewin.

stack turned just in time to see her coming, jaw tightening. he didn’t move, he knew better than to interfere when she had that look in her eye. he wasn’t scared of his woman, but he was scared of his woman. this was between her and mary now.

mary, still too full of herself to read the room, crossed her arms and tilted her head. “so now you sending your little guard dog to the door?” she spat, chin raised.

[ꪆৎ] didn’t respond right away. she stepped up to mary, slow, eyes scanning her head to toe like she was sizing up trash on the side of the road. then she spoke, voice calm, but low and mean.

“you come to my man’s place of business, looking the way you look and talking nonsense you can’t back up. thought i wasn’t gon show, huh?” her louisiana accent thickening with each word she spoke. mary’s smirk faltered, just a little. “i ain’t scared of you. you hiding behind a man that i already had.”

[ꪆৎ] let out a soft laugh, humorless, deep, dangerous. her head tilted slightly, curls brushing her shoulder as she took one deliberate step closer, causing mary to shift her weight back instinctively. the scent of her perfume sharp and sweet in the thick air between them.

“that so?” she said, voice low and affluent, louisiana accent wrapping around each word like molasses. “you had him, huh? must’ve been real forgettable, since he don’t even look your way no more.”

mary’s eyes narrowed. “he still remember.”

[ꪆৎ] nodded slowly, pressing her lips together before replying. “maybe. a man remember trash when it stank long enough. don’t mean he want it back in his house.”

a few folks nearby let out a low “mmm,” like they just bit into something hot and juicy. even stack looked down at his feet, fighting back a grin he knew better than to let show.

mary’s smirk had fully dropped now, her jaw tightening. but [ꪆৎ] wasn’t done. “you got two good legs, mary. use em. cause if i take one more step, neither i nor elias gon be responsible for what happens next.”

mary stood frozen, the fight in her chest but no wind to back it up. she opened her mouth like she wanted to throw another blow, but the silence around them told her loud and clear. she needed to take her ass on.

she huffed sharply, her chest rising with wounded pride, then spun on her heel with a dramatic flick of her hair. her heels struck the ground with angry rhythm, each step echoing her bruised ego as she stormed away from the joint, shoulders stiff with false dignity.

[ꪆৎ] slammed the door shut, then exhaled slowly, adjusting her dress. “yall can go back to having fun”, she said with a wave of her hand. that was all people needed to hear to get back in they groove.

she glanced up at stack, “lets go home. i’m tired of playing with these little ass girls.” he didn't say a word, just took her hand like he always did, following the woman that never steered him wrong.

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somberbenrey · 11 months ago

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SAMMMYYY

zib zub zab!

tomrey fanart because why not :D

#hlvrai #half life but the ai is self aware #hlvrai benrey #hlvrai tommy #sammy is one of my fav mutuals on tiktok hi sammy hello hi ur so cool

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strangerexee · 3 months ago

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ᴘʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ɪᴛ, ʙᴀʙʏ | ꜱᴀᴍᴍɪᴇ ᴍᴏᴏʀᴇ x ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ!ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

The barn was alive, music rolling like a river, laughter booming, stomps on the wooden floors in time with the beat.

It was damn near midnight but nobody had slowed down yet.

You’d been dancing for what felt like hours, sweaty, breathless, twirling under the hazy glow of the lights, and somewhere in the middle of the crowd, Sammie Moore had found you.

That voice, lord, that voice, smooth like smoke, low like thunder, sweet enough to steal your good sense.

And now. You were laughing against his chest, hands clutching the front of his jacket, as he half-dragged you toward the back of the barn.

Your shoes skidded on the rough wood, the hem of your dress twisting between your knees. Sammie was laughing too, that soft, breathless chuckle that made your heart flip.

"Where you takin' me, preacher boy?" you teased, grinning.

Sammie just shook his head, smiling wide, eyes burning, and pushed open a closet door.

Light dim inside. Dusty. Perfect.

You barely made it inside before his mouth was on yours, kissing you like he hadn't just seen you thirty seconds ago, like he’d been starving.

One hand grabbing his shoulder, the other going to the back of his neck to pull him closer if possible, and you gasped against his mouth, dizzy with how fast this was happening.

Somebody, Slim, from the sound of it, hollered out a laugh from the other side of the barn.

"Ain't no hidin', Sammie!" "Boy too loud!"

You laughed into Sammie’s kiss, breathless.

He laughed too, a low rumble in his chest, but he didn't pull away. If anything, he kissed you harder. Hands gripping your waist like he was trying to memorize the shape of you.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, your forehead bumping his.

"You sound real good up there," you mumbled, cheeks hot. "When you was singin’. Sound better than anybody else here."

Sammie huffed a soft, bashful sound, but the way his eyes darkened, you knew he liked hearing that.

"That right, pretty girl?" he said, voice dragging like silk across your skin. "You like my singin'?" "Mmhmm," you nodded, kissing on his jaw. "'Specially when you hit them notes."

You weren't thinking, not really, just talking and laughing and letting yourself get drunk off the heat of him.

So when he lifted you up and set you on the old table in the closet, your brain barely caught up.

Not even when he dropped to his knees. Dropped to his knees.

You blinked, the sweat cooling on your skin, heart pounding as you felt his hands push up the hem of your dress.

"Sammie —" you gasped, pushing at his shoulders. "Wait, wait, wait — I walked here — I been dancin' all night — I ain't — I ain't even clean —"

You were babbling, mortified.

But Sammie just kissed the inside of your thigh, slow and hot, then smiled up at you, mouth glistening.

"Don't care," he said simply. "You beautiful just like this." "Sweaty, messy, mine."

You slapped a hand over your face, half in embarrassment, half because you couldn't believe this was happening.

You heard him laugh low.

Then he grabbed your wrist, firm but careful, and pulled your hand away from your face.

"Lay down for me, baby," he murmured, thumb stroking your wrist. "Let me take care of you." his voice, you were gonna die. Die because of the way he was distracting you, all while pulling down your panties, all the way down, and letting them fall from your ankles.

You swallowed thick. Nodded.

And laid back, the old wood creaking under your weight, the barn lights flickering somewhere behind your shut eyelids, your whole body trembling with a mix of nerves and something deeper. Darker.

You felt Sammie’s hands sliding up your thighs, warm and calloused, felt the press of his palms as he gently eased your legs open, spreading you like something sacred, like he was about to pray at the altar of you.

Cool air brushed your inner thighs, kissed the heat between them, and then came the softest groan, deep from his chest.

“Damn…” he murmured, more to himself than to you. "So damn wet."

His breath fanned over your wetness and you shivered, lips parted, eyes fluttering as your fingers gripped the table edge.

Then his mouth was on you. Hot. Slow. Focused.

His tongue slid through your folds, parting them with gentle precision, until he found your clit and sealed his lips around it. Sucked. Soft. Steady.

Your entire body jolted, hips twitching off the table in shock.

“Oh my God — Sammie —”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t stop. He groaned into your pussy like he’d just tasted divinity, like the sound of your moan had gone straight through him.

His hands slid underneath your thighs, fingers curling tight over your hips, anchoring you down, so you couldn’t move, couldn’t flinch, couldn’t do anything but take it.

And you took it. Your thighs trembled around his head, your breath coming out in choked gasps, you tried to be quiet, tried to bite down on the sounds spilling out of you, but he made it impossible.

The way his tongue worked, lapping, circling, flicking that sensitive spot again and again, so tender but so filthy, made your body rise with every pass.

Your hand slipped to the back of his neck, cradling him there.

He moaned against you like you fed him, like he needed this, like he was starving for it.

“Preacher boy —” you gasped, the nickname tumbling out on instinct.

He grinned against your pussy, let out a low, filthy hum that made your stomach clench.

And when he pulled back just enough to whisper, “Say it again,” his voice was so deep, so wrecked with lust, you thought you might fall apart from just that alone.

You could barely breathe. Could barely think. But you obeyed, barely above a whimper.

“Preacher boy…”

He hummed again, deeper this time, and then you felt him slide two thick fingers into you without warning.

You cried out, back arching off the table, as he filled you and stretched you slow, deliberate, his tongue still working your clit, his mouth soft while his fingers curled inside you, firm and sure.

He moved like he’d done this before, like he knew how to pull sounds from a woman’s chest.

He licked you like it was Sunday service. He fucked you with his fingers like he meant to make you confess something.

“That’s it,” Sammie murmured, voice honey-slick and ruined. “C’mon now. Give it to me, baby. C’mon, let go for me.”

You came like the barn was shaking, like the wood beneath you would snap, like he’d stolen your soul from between your thighs.

And he didn’t stop. Not until you were trembling and leaking and gasping, his mouth dragging every last ounce of pleasure out of you like he needed it to breathe.

When he finally slowed, pressing a soft kiss to your swollen clit, then the inside of your thigh, you lay there stunned. Eyes glassy. Breath gone. Heart stuttering against your ribs.

He rose to his feet slow, and when you looked up at him, you felt a flush run all the way down your chest.

His mouth was shiny with you. His lips swollen and damp. His eyes? Hooded, sexy.

He leaned down, one hand cupping your cheek, and kissed you. Deep. Slick tongue sliding against yours.

You tasted yourself on his tongue. You let him feed it to you like communion. And you swore you could still feel his moan in your mouth.

"Told you," Sammie whispered against your lips. "Ain't no hidin', baby. You mine now."

You only pushed him away with a scoff, still catching your breath.

You sat up slow, the old wood of the table creaking under you, your dress all bunched up around your hips, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from kissing.

Sammie was standing right in front of you, tall and breathing hard, eyes fixed on you like you were something holy.

You caught your breath, swallowed thick — and reached for him. Reached for the buttons on his pants, fingers fumbling a little from how bad you still felt your climax rattling through you.

Sammie’s eyes darkened instantly.

"Baby —" he started, voice low and rough. "You sure?" "Mmhmm," you nodded, staring up at him with glassy, hungry eyes.

You slid your hands over the front of his pants, felt him already thick and hard underneath, and bit your lip.

"I want ya," you whispered. “I need ya.”

That was all Sammie needed.

He bent down, grabbed your face in both hands, and kissed you deep. Hot and filthy, his mouth tasting like your own arousal.

You moaned into the kiss, grabbing onto the waistband of his pants, trying to pull him closer.

Sammie chuckled against your mouth, low and breathless, and let you work at his belt.

You popped it open, the soft snap loud in the tiny closet, and dragged the zipper down, your fingers shaking just a little.

He caught your hands for a second, squeezing them.

"Take your time, baby," he whispered. "Ain't no rush."

But you wanted him, wanted him so bad it hurt.

You kissed him again, desperate, messy, hands slipping under the waistband of his briefs, feeling the heavy, thick weight of him.

Sammie groaned into your mouth, deep and broken, his hips jerking forward when you wrapped your hand around him. You stroked him slow, feeling the heat of him, and Sammie gripped the edge of the table like he might break it.

"F-Fuck, baby," he breathed, forehead pressing against yours. "You tryin' to kill me?"

You just smiled, shy but wicked, and kissed him again, tongue sliding slow against his. You wanted more. You needed more.

So you shifted, still trembling, and pulled him closer between your legs.

Sammie sucked in a sharp breath, one hand sliding up your thigh, pushing your dress higher, until he could feel how wet you still were for him.

"Damn," he muttered against your mouth. "Still so sweet for me."

You nodded, desperate, and guided him closer. But Sammie pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his gaze hot and serious.

"Ain't fuckin' you on no damn splintery table," he growled. "You deserve better than that."

You whimpered, frustrated, but he kissed you slow, calming you.

"Next time," Sammie promised, voice low. "Next time, baby, I’m takin' you somewhere proper. Where I can hear you scream without worryin' who hear us."

You shivered. God, you wanted him so bad, but you trusted him too. You trusted him to mean it. You trusted him to come back for you.

So instead, instead, you pulled him close again, and let him grind against you, thick and hard between your thighs, while you kissed him deep and dirty.

Sammie kissed you like he was carving your name into his soul, slow and aching and desperate, his hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that made you both moan.

It wasn't enough. Not nearly. But it was everything all at once. And when you finally pulled back, cheeks burning, lips slick, Sammie rested his forehead against yours and smiled.

"You my girl now," he whispered. "Ain't lettin' you go, baby."

And you smiled too, still trembling, but more sure than you ever had been before.

"Good," you whispered back. "'Cause I ain't goin' nowhere."

A/N: brb - I need to go touch some grass...

#sammie moore smut #sammie moore #sammie Moore x reader #sinners x reader #sinners imagine #sinners 2025 #sinners #sinners smut #sinners movie #ryan coogler #michael b jordan #miles caton #miles caton smut #preacher boy #preacher boy x reader

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ikigaisvt · 2 years ago

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i think all i do in this freaking life is be intimidated by others. when will it stop.

#one good thing is that i always go past that.#i think.#i try.#i dont like when i get intimidated so i try to be friend people that are intimidating #befriend* (?)#yk?#and most of the time im intimidated but like. id know we'd make good friends #yk??#anyway.#yup.#back in the 'im gonna look through that person blog so frequently because i think theyre so fucking cool and im kind of a pussy -#so i wont do anything about it for a few weeks' era #sammy's podcast

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ceoofsammonroe · 1 year ago

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Steamy - Sam Monroe Smut

Summary: Sam has been your best friend since you were kids. When he starts avoiding you and acting strange, you decide to take matters into your own hands and things get steamy…

Warnings: penetrative sex, shower sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (Sam receiving), handjob (Sam receiving), teasing, voyeurism, masturbation (Sam receiving), inexperienced!Sam, Sam finishes too fast, multiple orgasms (Sam receiving), thigh-fucking, nipple play?, slight dacryphilia, subby!Sam, edging, Sam whimpers a lot, maybe a smidge of degradation, Sam is down-horrendous.

Masterlist

Sam rested his forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall as he relentlessly fucked his fist. His eyes were squeezed shut, trying to block out the guilt as his mind raced with perverted thoughts.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He hadn’t intended on showering in your bathroom as an excuse to touch himself. You had just decided to wear one of his old t-shirts today and that…that had sent him over the edge.

Sam had been fighting off these feelings for a long time. If he was honest with himself, they’d always been there. When you were kids, it was easier. He didn’t understand the mechanics of all of it. He just knew he liked being around you more than anyone else, so he spent all the time he could with you. You were best friends, after all. That was normal.

Then, puberty happened. You developed tits and he developed an innate need to see them, touch them, taste them, anything.

It was harder now. You were both in college and still spending all of your time with each other. Every waking moment of Sam’s was spent thinking of you, watching you, imagining all of the ways he wanted to be with you.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be your friend — he loved being your friend. You were the only person in the world that ever actually saw him for who he was. It was just that he couldn’t escape these desires that grew stronger and stronger every time you smiled at him or batted your lashes or laughed or…

Yeah, he was fucked.

He knew that he needed to get his feelings for you in check. His biggest fear was doing some dumb shit to lose you. That’s why he’d been trying to create just a little distance lately. He only resorted to that when he felt like he wouldn’t be able to control himself around you. It just so happened that, lately, that was almost all of the time.

When he’d gotten to your place today, he had told himself that he wouldn’t let his attraction get the better of him — that he’d be normal — but, the minute he saw you in his shirt he felt like he could’ve melted into the earth. It was so cute, hugging your frame perfectly and just barely covering those tight ass shorts you had on underneath.

He’d tried to contain himself, he really had. He tried looking anywhere else but at you, tried thinking of every unsexy thing his mind could possibly dream up, but his efforts were all in vain. No matter what he did, his gaze would eventually wander back over to you. His mind would run wild with different scenarios. You in his shirt with nothing underneath. Him bending you over, lifting the material up just enough to take you from behind. Giving you more of his clothes to wear so that everyone knew you were his.

He hadn’t even realized how painfully hard he had gotten or how labored his breathing had become until you asked, “Are you alright, Sammy?”

Fuck, he almost came in his pants from the sweet sound of your voice as you said his nickname that he only allowed you to call him.

He felt his face flame as his eyes widened and he pulled the covers from your bed further over himself to make sure his erection was hidden.

“Y-yeah, fine,” he sputtered, trying to will himself to get a fucking grip.

“Are you sure?” you asked, reaching your hand out to touch his forehead. “You look flushed.”

He had to fight not to moan as your skin came in contact with his, so soft and tender. Your eyebrows were scrunched up in that adorable way they did whenever you were worried about him.

He wanted to see them scrunched up for other reasons, for all the pleasure he knew he could give you if you let him try. He wanted to hear you say his name like a plea of desperation, begging him for more, more, more.

“I think I just need to take a shower,” he muttered, quickly getting up and rushing to the bathroom before you could see any evidence of his arousal.

He paced in the bathroom, fisting at his hair as he tried to calm down. This was getting a bit pathetic. He couldn’t even be in the same fucking room as you without being embarrassingly close to coming untouched.

He stripped down, tossing his clothes to the floor as he stepped into the shower and shut the glass door behind him. He turned the water on to the coldest setting, cringing as he stood beneath it.

C’mon, this needs to work, he thought to himself as he shook from the cold. The icy water caused goosebumps to erupt on his skin, but did nothing to calm the raging hard-on that was still standing proud and aching. He groaned in frustration, hitting his head against the wall as he tried his best to fight off his arousal.

Finally, he gave in and wrapped his fist around his cock. He gave himself a few slow, guilt-ridden strokes as he squeezed his eyes shut. He hissed at the feeling, relief slowly flooding through his abdomen.

He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this. Touching himself to the thought of you was already bad enough, but touching himself to the thought of you while you were in the next room? If only you knew how fucked up he truly was. You’d never look at him again…

He fought the urge to moan at the thought of your hand replacing his, or better yet — your mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispered, biting his bottom lip as he thrusted into his hand.

He needed to get this over with. He needed to handle his problem and get back out there before you started to suspect that something was wrong.

He was desperately chasing his release but, despite how badly he wanted it, his own touch wasn’t getting him there this time.

He needed more.

You had worn his shirt on purpose.

You were tired of him avoiding the situation — avoiding you.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out why he’d been acting so strange lately. You’d noticed the way his eyes would linger on your form, the way his face would flush when you called his name, the way he’d try to discretely adjust himself in his pants when you’d get too close to him.

You’d always wondered why he’d never had a girlfriend. It wasn’t that girls didn’t desire him. He had just always been oblivious to their advances.

In actuality, you’d realized, he was just too focused on you.

You’d always harbored feelings for Sam. Ever since you were kids. He was your first childhood crush. You’d never told him, though, too scared that he’d tease you relentlessly for it. It wasn’t until lately that you realized those feelings had been reciprocated.

Once you’d made the realization, you’d started trying to push him further and further. You’d hoped that he would snap, finally admitting to you what he’d been feeling.

He never did, though. In fact, he did the opposite. He kept avoiding you, frustrating you to no end.

You huffed out a sigh, looking over at the clock on your bedside table. He’d been in the shower for almost twenty minutes. You gnawed on your lip, contemplating your next move.

Finally, with a newfound determination, you got up from your bed and walked toward your bathroom. You were tired of waiting for him to get the hint. He’d left you no choice. You needed to take matters into your own hands.

You opened the bathroom door, shutting it behind you as you called out, “What’s taking you so long in here, Sammy? I have to shower, too, ya know?”

Sam yelped, startled at your entry. You could only barely make out his figure behind the frosted glass, but it made your heart race nonetheless.

“J-Jesus, don’t you knock?” Sam sputtered, his voice laced with nervous energy.

“It’s my house,” you retorted, crossing your arms as you leaned against the sink.

You heard Sam sigh before he said, “I’ll be out in a minute just…give me a second.”

You began undressing before you could talk yourself out of it. This was a bold move, even for you, but you knew that Sam needed something to be shoved in his face for him to realize what was right in front of him.

“You’ve already been in here for twenty minutes and I have things to do later,” you grumbled, pretending to be inconvenienced. “I’m just coming in.”

“W-what?!” Sam stuttered, his voice nearly jumping up an octave.

You opened the glass door, stepping into the shower as you tried to appear nonchalant. Sam quickly covered himself with his hands, his entire body flushing red as he looked up at the ceiling to avoid looking at your naked frame.

You took this time to unabashedly look him over. His cupped hands only left little to the imagination. You bit your bottom lip, drinking in the sight of him. Arousal immediately began pooling between your thighs as you stepped underneath the water.

You yelped at the temperature, jumping back and adjusting the valve.

“Christ, Sammy, why the hell is it so cold in here?” you asked, despite knowing exactly why he’d been taking a cold shower.

“I-I just like it cold, okay?” Sam retorted, attitude biting with his words.

You turned the knob until the water ran hot, letting the steam fill the confines of the shower. You sighed, contentedly, stepping back under the water.

��Much better,” you breathed, practically moaning as the warm water washed away the tension in your muscles.

As the steam filled the air, Sam’s head was spinning. It was suffocating. He was surrounded by your scent. It took everything in him to keep his eyes glued to the ceiling. Even the glimpses he caught of your body from the corner of his eye were nearly enough to make him fall to his knees.

He had a difficult enough time keeping it together around you when you were fully clothed, how could he be expected to keep his composure when you were naked and wet a foot away from him?

He could feel his still-hard cock pulsing beneath his hands as he tried his best to cover himself. He felt like he’d somehow entered one of his wet dreams. Confusion and arousal fogged his mind as he tried to make sense of what was happening. The two of you had never even seen each other naked, much less showered together.

He refused to let himself believe that this could mean that you wanted him the same way he wanted you. He wouldn’t give himself that kind of false hope. He could only pray that he’d be able to get through this without making a complete fool out of himself.

You reached for the shampoo, lathering it into your hair. You smirked when you heard Sam breathe in a little too deeply. Glancing back at him, he still had his head facing toward the ceiling.

“You don’t have to break your neck trying not to look at me,” you laughed, rinsing the shampoo from your hair. “It’s not like you’ve never seen tits before.”

“I’ve never seen yours…” Sam mumbled, quietly, a new blush rising to his cheeks.

“Mine are just like any others,” you shrugged, brushing your conditioner through your hair with your fingers.

Sam had to bite his tongue to keep from responding that nobody could be like you. He was fighting so hard to keep his gaze averted but now you were practically inviting him to look at you. Even on his strongest day, there was no chance he could pass up the opportunity. He’d just look once, he told himself. Just enough of a glance to embed the image into his brain for when he jacked himself off to the thought of you.

He took a deep breath before stealing a quick look over at you. He involuntarily squeezed his dick, trying not to come on the spot. None of his fantasies could’ve prepared him for the way you’d look standing naked in front of him, water dripping from your body.

He forced himself to look up at your face instead of your tits — your goddamned perfect tits — but that didn’t help his situation in the slightest. Not when you were smirking at him like you were privy to some secret that he was not. Or when you were batting your lashes, sending water drops down your cheeks. Then you bit your lip and Jesus fucking Christ he felt every cell in his body burn at the sight.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the way his eyes fought between looking at your face and looking at your chest. You could sense the stress he was putting himself through, and almost felt bad for what you were doing. You weren’t going to stop, though. Not when you finally had him right where you wanted him.

You moved to grab the bottle of soap, intentionally letting it fall from your grasp. Out of instinct, Sam reached out to catch it. You gasped quietly at the sight of his erection springing forward into view.

He was big. Bigger than you’d expected. He was hard and leaking, his tip red and aching. He followed your gaze down, his eyes widening as he realized what you were looking at. He quickly handed you the bottle of soap back, moving to cover himself again.

“You know,” you started, smirking as you poured the soap into your hand, “if you need to take care of that, you can. I don’t mind.”

“W-what?” Sam coughed, his face a deep shade of red. “No! No way.”

“It’s natural, Sammy,” you shrugged. “I do it all the time. Besides, it looks real painful. I won’t watch if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sam wanted the earth to swallow him whole in that moment. He didn’t think his skin could burn any hotter than it was right then. You were teasing him, torturing him.

He didn’t know which part was worse — the way you said his name, the mental image of you touching yourself, or the attention you had paid to his predicament. His body felt like it was going to erupt into flames at any given moment.

You had to know. You had to. There was no way that all of this was just some random coincidence. The two of you had never breached that line of friendship and now, here you were, telling him to touch himself in front of you.

He couldn’t do that. There would be no coming back from that. There would be no way that he could recover. He’d come the minute he touched his dick if your eyes were on him, and how would he explain that?

However, you had said you wouldn’t watch…and he did really really need the relief…

Sam bit his bottom lip, breathing heavily as he contemplated his options. He knew that he shouldn’t, but the offer was so tempting…

“You promise you won’t watch?”

Your smirk grew as Sam gave in to his desires, just like you knew he would. You crossed your heart with your finger and Sam squeezed his eyes shut as his gaze was unintentionally brought back down to your chest.

Giggling, you turned back around to face the other side of the shower. You didn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes travelled down to your ass as you did. You began lathering the soap into your skin as you heard the wet sounds of his fist stroking his dick over the hum of the shower.

You bit your lip, focusing on the way he let little breaths escape him. You could imagine how hard he was trying to refrain from making any other noises. You wanted to hear him, wanted to know exactly how he was feeling.

Curiosity and the need to push him further getting the better of you, you asked, “Are you always this quiet when you jack off?”

He sucked in a breath and sputtered, “Jesus, fuck, you…you can’t talk to me right now.”

You stifled a giggle, feigning innocence as you said, “Why not, Sammy?”

“Don’t say my name,” he practically pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I thought it would help,” you laughed, done beating around the bush. “Don’t you usually imagine me saying your name when you do this?”

You turned back around to face him, cocking your head to the side. His eyes widened and his hand stopped moving as his mouth opened and closed repeatedly.

Your mouth practically watered at the sight of him, chest flushed and heaving, his fist squeezed tightly around his erection.

“W-what…I don’t…I haven’t…” Sam stuttered, trying to come up with some kind of denial to your statement.

“Oh, come on,” you huffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “I’m not oblivious and you aren’t exactly subtle.”

Sam’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Relax, Sammy, it’s okay,” you said, beginning to slowly lather the soap into your skin. “Keep going.”

“What?” He gulped, eyes shooting open as they focused on the way your hands moved across your body in an agonizingly tempting motion.

“Keep going, Sammy,” you repeated, not taking your eyes off of him.

He released a shuddered breath, licking his lips as his eyes locked back on yours. Slowly, he began to move his fist again.

His jaw fell slack as his gaze followed the motion of your hands, teasing him as you trailed suds across your chest. His hand moved faster, his eyelids fluttering as a strained noise sounded from his throat.

“Is this what you think about, Sammy?” you taunted, moving your hands lower down your stomach.

Sam gasped, nodding his head as he muttered, “Uh-huh.”

His chest heaved with heavy breaths, his hips thrusting into his fist. His hooded eyes were dark with desire as they traveled over your body. His movements became sloppy, his brows knitting together.

You could tell he was close, soft sounds involuntarily escaping his lips. His muscles were visibly tensing as his breaths started to come out in short spurts.

You’d had enough of being a bystander. Every nerve in your body was alight with desire and you wanted to close the distance between you two. You were done playing this game. If he was going to come, you wanted it to be by your hands.

Sam let out an involuntary whine of protest as you grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from himself. His eyes widened as you moved him until his back was pressed against the cold shower wall.

“W-what are you…what’s happening…oh, fuck.”

Sam’s questions were silenced the minute you pressed yourself against him. He gasped, clenching his fists by his side, seemingly using all of his restraint to keep from touching you.

He looked down at you, his gaze pleading and questioning as he asked, “What is this?”

“I was tired of waiting for you to make the first move,” you shrugged, grabbing his face.

His brows furrowed, confusion etched into his features. His mouth opened and closed, as if trying to form the words he wanted to say.

“Waiting for…what do you mean?”

“God, you’re so oblivious,” you mumbled, pulling his face down to yours and pressing your lips against his.

He immediately buckled, leaning into the kiss. He couldn’t help but groan into your mouth, a sound that betrayed the intensity of his arousal. The pressure building in his groin grew, his need growing at an unbearable pace. He arched his hips forward, desperate for contact. You pulled back, biting your lip as you peered up at him.

Sam held his breath, the moment teetering on the edge of ecstasy. His heart hammered so loud that it threatened to drown out the sound of the shower. His eyes were dizzy and unfocused as he looked down at you. This was both the most exhilarating and most terrifying moment of his life. The anticipation was agonizing, maddening.

You glanced down at his pouted lips, as if daring him to make a move. His tongue darted out, flicking across them as his gaze moved between your eyes and your mouth.

Finally, after working up the courage, he leaned forward. You grinned as you tilted your head back, keeping your lips just out of reach. He furrowed his eyebrows, releasing a shaky breath before trying again. You let his lips barely brush against yours before you dodged him again, smirking at the teasing game you were playing with him.

He looked at you with pleading eyes, desperation etched into his features, as a needy whine sounded in his throat. He whispered your name, fists tightening as every muscle in his body tensed with longing.

“Please,” he whispered, his jaw clenching with the effort to keep his composure.

With that one word, he completely crumbled your resolve. His eyes were dark and glassy with desire and unshed tears and you were prepared to give him anything he asked for.

You tangled your fingers in his wet hair, pulling him into a heated kiss. His lips immediately parted, devouring your own. He kissed you like he was starved, like you were his only source of oxygen after he’d been suffocating with need.

There was still a hesitancy in his actions, a part of him that was restraining himself. Whether it was out of fear or lack of knowledge, you didn’t hesitate to guide him.

Your fingertips trailed down his arms, causing him to shiver. You grabbed his hands and placed them on your hips. He moaned into your mouth, his touch instantly beginning to wander.

The urgency in his kiss increased, his hands roaming your back, your sides, your legs. Years of built up tension came bubbling to the surface as you both began to drown in each other.

Sam’s voice was low and husky, barely coherent against your lips as he whispered, “Don’t stop.”

The pressure between his legs was a stinging reminder of his desperation. The need within him was leaking with each touch, each kiss. He reveled in the control you wielded over him. Sam’s mind was lost in a sea of lust. This was a moment he’d dreamed about for years. The thought of it was almost too much, the entire situation overwhelming.

You guided his hands up to your chest and Sam wasted no time in palming your tits. He squeezed gently, kissing you with blazing fervor. When his thumbs experimentally swiped across your nipples, you let out a sigh of pleasure against his lips.

Sam’s brain short-circuited the minute he heard your reaction. His hips surged forward, pushing his aching erection between your clenched thighs. He had been so worked up and the pressure provided just the right amount of friction. He gasped, letting out a strangled moan as he clutched onto you. His eyes rolled back as an orgasm ripped through him, instinctively continuing to thrust between the plush skin of your thighs.

Sam panted, slowly opening his eyes again as he came down from the high. His entire body flushed at the revelation of what had just occurred. He took in your amused expression, groaning in embarrassment as he buried his face into your neck.

You stifled a giggle, gently rubbing his back as you whispered, “It’s okay, Sammy. It happens.”

He whimpered against your skin, wrapping his arms around you. He was torn between wishing he could disappear, never having to face you again, and wanting to stay in this moment forever.

“Besides,” you smirked, leaning down to pepper gentle kisses across his shoulder, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Sam inhaled, sharply, his breath hot against your neck. His body instantly responded, his arousal already stirring again at the prospect alone.

You grabbed his face, lifting his head back up to meet his gaze. His cheeks were still tinged pink, bringing out the bright blue of his dilated eyes.

You traced his swollen lips with your thumb and asked, “Do you think you can do it again for me?”

“Mhm,” he responded, nodding eagerly. “I’ll do anything for you.”

You grinned, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “Promise?”

He pulled you into him, closing the gap between you so that you couldn’t pull away again. He kissed you passionately, groaning as you bit down on his bottom lip.

“Promise,” he mumbled into the kiss, “anything you want.”

You reached up to grab his chin, tilting it to the side as you slowly kissed down his neck. His eyes fluttered shut, his body quivering at the tender attention. He cradled your head with a trembling hand, urging you on as your lips made their way across his skin.

Sam whimpered when you nipped at his pulse point, the hand in your hair tightening as you gently sucked a dark mark into the pale skin. You kissed across his chest, letting your hands run down his sides. He gasped as your teeth grazed over one of his nipples.

Your lips continued their descent down his body as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him. Sam let out a shaky breath, whispering your name as his legs nearly gave out.

You blinked up at him, water drops coating your lashes, as you rubbed your hands up and down his thighs.

“You’ll do anything I want?” you asked, kissing across his hips.

“Uh-huh,” he rasped, licking his lips as he nodded his head. “Anything you want. I swear it.”

Your mouth watered as you sat eye-level with his dick that was steadily twitching back to life. He gasped as you took him into your hand, his fists clenching tightly by his sides. You slowly began to stroke him, watching as he bit his lip to try and hold back the sounds threatening to spill from his lips.

“Then I want to hear how good it feels, Sammy,” you told him, pressing a teasing kiss to the tip.

“Shit,” he cursed, hardening again in your grip.

Your tongue traced a line up his shaft, slowly circling it around the head of his dick before taking him entirely into your mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, panting as he gripped the shower wall for support. “That’s…a-ah…that’s really good.”

The sight of you was overwhelming. He had only ever pictured you this way in his dirtiest dreams. You, on your knees with your lips wrapped around his cock, gazing up at him like the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, peering down at you through hooded lids. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”

You watched his chest heave as you worked him, using your hand to cover what your mouth couldn’t fit. His fist was still tangled in your hair, but he didn’t dare attempt to control your movements.

Sam’s eyes rolled back as he felt himself hit the back of your throat, the sensation causing his hips to stutter. You swallowed around him and his entire body threatened to crumble. Strings of lewd moans and whimpers escaped his lips as his back arched off of the wall.

“Oh, god,” he panted, throwing his head back against the shower wall, “I’m…fuck…I’m gonna…”

You pulled off of him and he let out a whine, thrusting to desperately chase your lips. You grabbed his hips, holding them still as you rose back up to your feet.

“Why’d you stop?” Sam pouted, scrunching his eyebrows together in desperation. “I was so close.”

Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart beneath it, as you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“I didn’t think you’d want to stop before getting to be inside of me, but if you’d rather settle for my hands then I can keep going,” you taunted, cocking your head to the side.

“No,” he croaked out, his voice breaking off into a desperate moan at the mere thought of that privilege. “I wanna be inside you. Please, let me be inside of you.”

He clutched at you, pulling you into him as he crashed his mouth against yours. You immediately responded to the kiss, parting your lips and tasting his tongue with your own.

Without breaking the kiss, you pulled him forward and switched your positions so that your back was now pressed against the shower wall.

You reached down, grabbing his dick and stroking it as you lined it up with your entrance. He gasped, breaking apart to rest his forehead against yours. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he looked down between your bodies, watching you tease them finally joining together.

“Please, don’t keep teasing me,” he begged, his voice hoarse with need. “I can’t take it.”

You wrapped a leg around his waist and Sam held his breath, his mouth falling open as you guided his hips to slowly sheath into you. As his length filled you, stretching you out with a delicious burn, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan.

Once he was buried to the hilt, his hips flesh against your own, he finally released his breath in a strangled whimper.

“You’re so tight, fuck,” he breathed, unable to take his eyes away from the sight of you wrapped around him.

“Fuck me, Sammy,” you whispered, watching as his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

His breath hitched as he nodded, his body trembling with nervous anticipation. He pulled back, almost completely out of you, before pushing back in with a slow, experimental thrust.

You both gasped at the feeling, moaning into the shared air between your mouths. He repeated the motion again, familiarizing himself with the way your body practically pulled him in.

His thrusts got faster as his lips found yours again in a heated kiss. You clutched onto his shoulders for support, feeling every nerve in your body ignite in flames of pleasure.

“You feel so good,” you mumbled, arching into him. “Such a perfect fit.”

Sam groaned against your lips, his hips picking up the pace. He pulled back to look at you, his eyes dark with desire.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed, the dam of his emotions suddenly breaking as he fucked into you. “I-I dreamed about you, every day. You were all…ah…I ever wanted.”

“I know, Sammy, I know,” you panted, reaching up to kiss him again. “I’ve always felt the same way, you were just too blind to notice.”

He whimpered at the revelation, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He grabbed your waist, using it as leverage as his hips snapped up into yours.

“Fuck,” he whined, breathing out your name. “I-I’m getting close. I’m not gonna be able to last.”

“I need you to hold on just a little longer, Sammy,” you told him, earning a desperate whimper as his eyes grew glassy again.

You grabbed one of his hands, guiding his thumb to your clit. You moved it in slow circles, showing him how to touch you. He picked up the action quickly, moving his fingers on their own accord.

You moaned at the added stimulation, feeling Sam’s hips stutter as you squeezed around him. Ragged breaths wracked through him as he tried desperately to hold on for you.

“Wanna hear you, Sammy,” you prompted.

A single tear drop fell down his cheek from the sheer effort of keeping his climax at bay as he began to mindlessly ramble.

“You feel so good. Squeezin’ around me all tight and warm. Could just stay buried in you forever. Never wanna stop. I’ll do anything to satisfy you. Anything you want. I’ll get on my hands and knees if you ask me to. Just wanna make you happy. Just wanna keep feelin’ you like this.”

He kissed down your neck, needing to occupy his mouth. He buried his face against your chest, gasping and whimpering as his movements chased the high he desperately craved.

“No one else gets to have me like this,” you promised, feeling that familiar knot of pleasure tightening in the pit of your stomach. Each stroke of his thumb against your clit, paired with the tip of his dick repeatedly brushing that spot inside of you, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re the only one I want, Sammy. The only one who can make me feel this way.”

He let out a strained cry against your skin, his fingers gripping the plush skin of your waist tighter.

“Please, I need to come,” he begged, the desperation making his voice raw. “I need it, baby, please.”

The sweet sounds of his pleading was the final thread that unraveled the knot.

“Come for me, Sammy,” you breathed.

You felt the white hot pleasure course through your veins as you tightened around him, feeling your climax wash over you in a tidal wave.

He came with a cry of your name, clutching onto you as he continued to thrust into you. His vision seemed to black out as he finally let go, giving you everything.

The world around you seemed to fade as you both came down from the mutual high. Sam’s body relaxed into yours, his hands still trembling as you both tried to catch your breath. You settled into a blissful haze, engulfed by the warmth of the shower.

You held him close to you, running your fingers soothingly through his hair as you smiled lazily, “You done avoiding me now?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, grinning sheepishly. He nuzzled into your neck, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Never gonna avoid you again.”

“Good,” you responded, “it would be a dick move to avoid your girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Sam asked, his head snapping up as he looked at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Well, yeah,” you grinned, biting your lip. “Unless you’d rather this just be a one time thing.”

“No!” Sam interjected, quickly, shaking his head. “I want this to be an all the time thing. Every day. Multiple times a day, if possible.”

You rolled your eyes, giggling as you playfully shoved him. He laughed, his entire face lighting up with joy and relief as he hugged you to him.

“You know, it was kind of a creeper move to barge in on me in the shower,” he joked, looking down at you with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Hey, you were the one jacking off to me in my own house!” you argued, laughing as you poked his chest.

He grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before grabbing your face and sweetly kissing your lips.

He hummed softly and whispered, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.”

You beamed up at him, feeling your heart flutter in his embrace. You used up the remaining hot water to actually shower off, tending to each other as you did. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was how it was always meant to be.

Maybe it’s true what they say. Everything happens for a reason.

#hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen #sam monroe #Sam Monroe smut #smut #smut requests #Hayden Christensen fanfiction #Sam Monroe fanfiction #Hayden Christensen imagine #Sam Monroe imagine #Drabble #one shot #life as a house #life as a house smut

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theyluvlyss · 3 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 "𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬" 𝐟𝐢𝐜/𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞...

no offense, but it's the same five songs (a.k.a. same plots/reader types) over and over again. like guys - WHERE'S THE CREATIVITY ?! THE FANTASY ?! THE IMAGINATION ?!

like hellooo, there's literally vampires, magic/hoodoo, and a million themes both hidden and not-so-hidden to work with. not to say i'm not loving what i'm seeing right now, don't get it twisted - I am, and y'all are good,,, but I just think we can do more and better😌🙏🏽.

hence why, I present...

a list of some wip's I got goin' for the future, along with my takes on why/how I came up with them😻 !!

but before I begin...

fair warning #1 - you're welcome to be inspired, but plz don't steal, i'm putting so much effort into these, my notes app hasn't been closed not once😭🙏🏽.

fair warning #2 - ikik, most of these are remmick, plz don't come for me✋🏽🥲✋🏽. I was trying to get them all out of my head before I forgot them, I love working with vampire characters, and finally, yes ofc I will be conjuring up some more for bo chow, plenty for stack and smoke, and some for sammie :). I am a multifandom account, after all, I be working on helllllaaaa other things and trying not to forget them all, so cut some slack <3.

fair warning #3 - I mentioned this in my last post, but all of my readers are black/black-coded. obnoxiously so. because, and stay mad about it, but this is for the niggas, strictly for the niggas, like I don't give a FUCK, okay? y'all can request whatever y'all want (within reason, because if I see something weird in my inbox, you're blockt), but when it comes down to prompts like these - where they're made up by me, original thoughts, not asked for, this is my blog and I can post what I want type shit - it always gave black!reader, like it's the norm over here, I shouldn't even have to say it lol.

anyways, onto my wip's /ᐠ^˕^マ !!...

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okayokayokay, I know what I said earlier - "iT's tHe sAmE fIvE sOnGs🙉!!" - but listen... I have yet to see a vamp!reader fic where the reader being turned doesn't happen at the end, and it's vague, and doesn't explore that narrative further.

also, it's always intentional, which I get, yk, but I wanna switch it up, give y'all a taste of it being a complete accident and then further delve into the feelings, effects, experience of reader being turned. ofc, with remmick being there for assistance and emotional support in a rather "morbid-amused-lowkey unwanted by the reader, but they don't got much of a choice rn" sorta way lmfao.

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shoutout to the niggas workin' with brail rn, who's personal documents say "legally blind", who's prescription glasses are THICKKK asf...

I see you😌✊🏽.

was that outta pocket?

my fault, anyways...

my thought process behind this was very adhd, so before you attack me, hear me out lol.

vampires are so cool because one of their abilities is having their senses heightened to an almost unnatural degree - I want a reader who has that same ability, but I don't want them to be a vampire, just super skilled with their senses - how would a reader who's not a vampire have heightened senses? idk,,, what type of humans have heightened senses? - ...blind ppl (💀) have heightened senses cuz they can't see, so they have to rely on the other five to get by (because I believe in sixth senses lol)... crazy connetion, but it's true💀 - LOL imagine remmick and reader going sense for sense fr tho.

mr. I-live-for-the-hunt meets ms. i'm-not-the-one.

shit becomes a "don't breathe" remake rq (without the freaky-deaky stuff towards the end, unless y'all are into that, idk💀✋🏽-).

idk, I see a vibe here, it's getting written fs.

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I think it'd just be really funny to write about bo putting up with this silly, dramatic, type of reader. maybe a charlotte "lottie" la bouff type. spoiled but not rotten, definitely a character fr, and he entertains it because he loves it (won't admit it) and reader (admits and shows it).

reader is all pretty and pink and expressive and all her own, and honestly ?? she doesn't really have to go to visit his shop every single day, but she does because this little girl type crush just won't settle (won't admit it, but definitely shows it).

plus, HELLO, black wealth and excellence, idc if it's not fully accurate for the time, it's called fanfiction for a reason. get with it or get lost, let the girlies be drowned in privilege and in bo chow's love, attention, and care😻✨️🩷.

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vampires exist in this world.

you really think i'm not gonna entertain the possibility of other mythical creatures existing as well?

BOOOO LAME‼️

furthermore,,, you really think i'm not bold enough to apply that possibility to some sinners fanfic? did I not JUST talk about creativity??

oh, you not fuckin' with it???

BOOOOO LAAAAMMMEEE TOMATO TOMATO, I'M THROWING TOMATOES‼️🍊‼️🍊‼️.

anyways, I have nothing to explain this/myself more with other than this little sliver of dialogue, for fear of spoiling the fic idea I have in mind/am working on...

. . .

"Oh, honey..." You trailed, barely strangling back a laugh bubbling deep from within your chest, your voice lined with a sense of pity.

Knowingness.

Hardly any question when you asked, "...D'you really think you were the only monster lurkin' through these woods...?"

. . .

THAT'S IT, that's enough, that's all you're getting, teehee🤭🫵🏽.

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i'm a slut for whimsy (and size kinks), what can I say🤷🏽‍♀️?

also, I think I should HEAVILY lean into the "mischievous" aspects of how pixies/fairies are said to be - LOL just some lil' sparkly-winged, elf-eared, three-apples-tall ass creature/reader wreaking havoc on the kkk and others who do wrong, dirty, and evil, reader doing her best to uplift those who don't have her wings, who can't just fly away from the struggles happening all around, reader providing some fun and magic into little boy's and girl's lives, and-

oh, what's this?

reader spotting remmick absolutely devouring some poor soul who crossed his path and, well, they can't help but be interested and curious. maybe even mess with him a little bit.

cue remmick having to put up with reader's mystical magical nonsense, hating every second, but heaven forbid if something happens to the reader😌🥴✋🏽...

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(my picture limit ruined my aesthetic, y'all😔💔)

remmick x jaded!reader

lmfao ik that sounds wild, but lemme cook✋🏽🥴✋🏽...

reader who - doesn't not care - but it takes a lot to actually phase them/gain a physical reaction. and I mean a LOT.

also, like, they're a freak!! god forbid reader sees something they like, like🙀🙄... (throw back another shot after every like).

idk how i'm gonna pull this off, but I just think it'd be amusingly jarring for remmick to come across a reader who has no fears about his ass being a vampire, nor gives any fucks about his threats on turning them. they've seen and been under much worse circumstances...

"ain't no need for that, the last thing I wanna do is be stuck on this earth for another day😒✋🏽..."

"...I...wha-...y-"

"-if you play nice, though, i'll clean ya' up. you gettin' blood all over my laundry and I don't have time to redo the load."

cue unlikely friendship😻?

remmick is the semi-unruly puppy, and reader is the reluctant owner type beat, because you already know he's coming back, no way he's not😹.

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remmick x fiftiesera!reader

i'm feeling nice, so i'll go ahead and leak the title i'm gonna use😌...

. . .

" 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧' 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐡 "

. . .

to sum up what i've got in the oven...

religious themes/god complex/kink(?) - vampire turning ofc😌 - smut (have I mentioned that some of these prompts do include smut?? well, they do lmao) - do you have issues with your parents? reallllyy don't like them?? this fic will potentially heal some of that for you idk lol - the second out of two of my readers who are gonna be a little... naive... but it's fine, most of my readers so far have been pretty, "i'm not with that bullshit" types. we need ✨️balance✨️.

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remmick x heavyflow!reader

I won't lie, I saw a tumblr post on here that fully inspired what I have in mind...

so thanks to them, everybody thank this user lol. all I plan on doing is fleshing out this prompt into a full blown imagine, like deadass.

remmick at your door every time he can smell the start of your cycle...

yes bruh, I used my last pic for a meme, god forbid I put humor over visual pleasure, like🙄✋🏽...

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remmick x 2025era!/modern!reader

no idea what i'm gonna do with this, ngl, I just figured that if i'ma do a reader from the 50's, y'all would start screaming at me to do a modern reader, so🥴💀.

i'll take ideas/requests, tho :D !!

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that's a wrap (for now) !!

again, i'm very aware (and not proud) of the fact it's mostly remmick, but like I said, there's plans for sammie, smoke, stack, and bo, so don't get on my case, I just need time to keep brainstorming before I explode lmfao💀😭.

anyways, stay tuned y'all, because these fics are all currently in the works and I will be honest, the more ppl confirm they're rocking with these prompts and looking forward to them, the more likely/confident i'll be with actually getting them done and done well :).

byeeee, i'll be back in another millenia😻‼️✨️.

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whowantstobenormalanyway · 1 month ago

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Tipsy Confusion

Bsf!Reader x Dean who thinks they’re dating

A/N: First attempt at a one shot, and first time writing anything supernatural!! Might make more of these with different readers and the same. Reader in this is a bit naive? But she's drunk, and I think we can let her off because of it! Summary: Dean thinks you're dating, you think you're besties, and usually you're okay with that, but right now you're drunk. Sam is a little menace, but at least he's having fun.

What Dean had done to deserve this, he didn’t know.

Ever-serious Sammy was flirting with his girl, for no reason. Well, sure there were some reasons. I mean, you're hella smart, curvy in all the right places, funny, and have a bangin’ taste in music, but still.

Worse of all, to Dean’s dramatic and pissed off view, it seemed like you were flirting back, laughing and leaning into Sam.

In reality, neither of you were flirting. For one, Sam was fully aware of Dean’s obsession with you, and he saw you as an awesome, annoying sister than anything else; in his mind you were part of the family, but would never be his in that way, and nor would he want you to be. Secondly, you were pretty touchy with everyone, and you were tipsy. Three beers in and you were ready to start serenading the barkeep - it’s just how you were.

Frankly, you would practically be on Dean’s lap right now, but he went to the bathroom and hadn’t come back yet, so you were just chilling with Sam.

You noticed your bottle was empty, and pouted slightly when you noticed Sam and Dean’s were too. You didn’t notice the way Dean’s eyes softened at your expression, or the way they hardened again once you had skipped over to the bar to get them all more drinks and he could focus solely on Sam again.

“You two seemed pretty snug,” Dean said, making Sam jump as he slid into their booth. He ground his jaw at the amused smile playing along his brother's face. He was lucky he was his brother, else Dean would have bashed his face in for smiling like that, thinking about you.

Dean may have been a bit tipsy too.

Sam snorted, “Dean.”

“You think this is funny, Sammy?” Dean growled, “Stealing another man’s girl, man, come on!” He was undoubtedly about to go off on a tangent about the betrayed brother, so Sam cut in before he could spiral.

“I am not trying to steal your girl!”

Dean squinted at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

Now Dean just looked offended. “Why not?”

“What?”

“She’s gorgeous, and smart, and funny. Who are you to think you’re too good for her, huh? She’s too good for you, and anybody else in this crappy bar, did you know that?”

“Oh my god, Dean!”

“What?”

Sam was about to reiterate that he didn’t want you, when you came back and plopped next to Dean holding drinks. “FINALLY!” He threw his hands up exasperated, “You can deal with him.”

“Dean!” You chirped, already invading his personal space, although he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he melted into you, as if your presence was able to relax him enough to melt him into a pile of goo.

“Hi, Sweetheart.” He grinned at you, acting totally cool.

Sam just rolled his eyes and picked up his drink.

“You were gone for ages!” You said glaring at the oldest brother suddenly. “What, did you find a girl or something while you were over there?”

Now Dean was bewildered. You always said shit like that when you were drunk, insecurities festering beneath your skin, waiting to come out. In all honesty, you were just a tiny bit jealous of all those girls, I mean Dean was Dean!

But you could live with being his best friend most of the time. Only when drunk did you feel in anyway inferior.

“The hell would I find a girl for when I’ve already got one?”

“You have a girlfriend?” Your eyes watered. Dean didn’t do girlfriends, and the fact that he hadn’t told you about one hurt just a little.

Dean panicked at your shining eyes. “I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight, huh, baby? Getting a bit forgetful.”

“I’m not your car!”

“...No, you’re you.”

Sam was biting his lip as hard as he could to keep from laughing. The little shit knew exactly what was going on. Dean was never one for grand declarations or romantic dates, so he didn’t think he needed to ask you to be his Girlfriend, but he had told Sammy about a gift he wanted to get you for your anniversary in a few months, which was apparently just a random day Dean had decided you two were officially together.

On the other hand, Sam knew you were pining over his brother, but was fully under the impression that both you and he were single. A couple of weeks ago you had mentioned how, if you were dating someone (Cough, cough, Dean) you would have taken them to a cute little riverside restaurant in the town they were staying in at the time. Another time, you were going on about how you wished his brother would see you as more than a best friend, but understood that commitment was hard for him in general and in their line of work.

And, yeah. Sam could have mentioned the situation to Dean, or to you, but that would have taken the fun out of it. He wanted to see who would realise the other’s beliefs first; he had a bet about it with Bobby actually.

Plus, Dean made his dating life hell as a teenager, so a little payback was rather refreshing.

#dean winchester #sam winchester #dean x reader #Dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural #bsf!reader #bsf!reader x dean winchester #Sam winchester being a menace #impala #dean winchester fluff #spn

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nyc-looks · 1 year ago

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Julez, 26

“The shoes are Converse Run Stars, I found them in Marshall’s a while back and fell in love. The socks from Amazon, skirt is from Revolve, and everything except my friend Sammy’s Prada glasses on top is secondhand! The button up, corset and purse are all thrift finds. Change is my inspiration. I’m constantly evolving and learning so my style changes with me day to day. I can’t be one singular expression of self – I have way too many stories to tell. (I also love Bratz & *doing the most* and I almost cry when I walk past a little girl and she’s in awe! 7 year old me would think I was so cool - so I definitely dress to impress her.)

May 18, 2024 ∙ Greenpoint

#nyc looks #street style #new york #street fashion #style #outfit #fashion #secondhand #thrifted

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dina-winchester · 2 months ago

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What Comes After

A sequel to the “What We Were” series—set years in the future

Pairing: Dean x You // Established relationship

Summary: You found the kind of love that doesn’t just survive—it stays. This is what comes after. This is home.

Warnings: None! Pure fluff because it’s the only way to write a sequel. 🥰

Five Years Later – The Bunker, 3:07 A.M.

The bunker is quiet. All those echoing hallways, those heavy stone walls—normally they feel cavernous at night. But lately, with your body warm and heavy from carrying new life, even the silence feels gentle. Familiar. Like home.

Your feet pad across the cool kitchen floor, one hand bracing the curve of your lower back while the other rummages through the fridge. You’re muttering under your breath, half-cursing the peanut butter jar that’s migrated behind the pickle jar again, when a deep voice cuts through the stillness.

“There she is.”

You jolt—just slightly—but then your shoulders relax. You know that voice in every lifetime. You straighten, turning toward the sound with a sleepy smile.

Dean leans in the doorway, sweatpants low on his hips, t-shirt wrinkled from sleep. His hair’s a mess. So is his heart, judging by the look on his face when his eyes drop to your belly.

“Sorry,” you say, breathless from the effort. “I was trying not to wake you.”

“‘S fine,” he murmurs, already walking toward you. “Kinda figured you’d be up. Kid was kicking like a damn ninja earlier.”

You chuckle and place a hand protectively over the bump. “She gets it from you.”

Dean slides his hands over your hips from behind, one thumb brushing under your belly as he kisses the side of your neck, slow and sweet. “She gets the attitude from you.”

You lean into his chest, letting your body rest against his warmth, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. You feel him breathe you in—arms locked around you like he can hold the whole world together that way.

“Whatcha after?” he mumbles against your shoulder. “Pickles? Ice cream? Some unholy combination of both?”

“Peanut butter toast,” you murmur. “With banana. And maybe some honey if I can reach it without pulling a muscle.”

Dean grins, already reaching past you. “You just stand there lookin’ gorgeous and pregnant. I got this.”

You roll your eyes but let him. He grabs the bread, the peanut butter, the banana. Even the honey. Sets it all up on the counter like it’s sacred.

When he spreads the peanut butter with more care than any man ever has, you blink back a tear you weren’t expecting. Because five years ago, he was all sharp edges and scars, and now he’s soft hands and sleepy smiles at 3 a.m. And because this isn’t just love—it’s peace.

“I still can’t believe you gave up hunting,” you say softly, watching him from your spot against the counter.

He shrugs, but his jaw clenches just slightly. “Didn’t give it up. Just… changed my priorities. Sammy calls, I help. But I gotta be smart now. I come back in one piece. Every time.”

You nod. “Because of her?”

Dean glances at your belly, then meets your eyes. “Because of you. And yeah—her too.”

Your throat gets tight again, emotions bubbling too close to the surface. “I didn’t think we’d ever get here.”

He leans in, brushing a kiss over your lips—slow and lingering. “Me either. But damn, I’m glad we did.”

When he pulls back, he cups your bump with both hands and murmurs, “You hear that, sweetheart? We made it. Your mama’s a badass, and I’m the luckiest son of a bitch alive.”

You laugh through a tear. “You’re such a sap now.”

Dean smirks. “Only for you.”

Dean slides the finished toast onto a plate, sets it down like it’s a five-star meal, and hands it over with a proud little flourish. You kiss his cheek in thanks and take a bite, humming through a mouthful of peanut butter and banana.

He leans back against the counter, arms crossed, eyes fixed on you with that quiet, reverent look he only ever gets when it’s just the two of you and the world slows down. His gaze drops to your belly again, and after a moment, he steps behind you—no words, just a gentle nudge of presence.

You feel his hands come around your sides first, then one slowly slides under your belly. He lifts—just a little, just enough to take the pressure off your spine. The relief is instant and overwhelming. You exhale hard, shoulders dropping as your whole body melts into him.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut.

Your head falls back onto his shoulder without thinking, cheek pressing against his neck.

“That good, huh?” he murmurs, the warmth of his voice rumbling through your skin.

You nod slowly, your breath finally evening out. “You have no idea.”

Dean holds you there, one strong arm anchored under your belly, the other sliding up to stroke your side. “Should’ve done this sooner,” he mutters, nuzzling behind your ear. “Coulda saved us both a lotta sleepless nights.”

“Still time,” you breathe.

“Damn right there is.”

You stay like that for a while, swaying gently, full plate forgotten on the counter, hearts beating in sync.

A few minutes later, footsteps echo down the hallway—slower, more cautious than usual. Sam appears in the doorway, hair wild, hoodie thrown over a t-shirt, rubbing his eyes.

“I knew I heard voices,” he mutters. Then he stops, blinking at the sight of the two of you—Dean wrapped around your back like a second spine, your belly cradled, head tucked against his jaw.

A slow smile spreads across Sam’s face. “You two gonna make me cry before sunrise or what?”

You laugh, untangling just enough to glance over your shoulder. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Worth it,” Sam says. He pads into the room, reaching for a coffee mug. “You look good. Both of you.”

Dean shrugs, but he’s glowing with quiet pride. “She’s the one doing all the hard work.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam pours his coffee and takes a sip. “You’re glowing like a damn housewife in a Hallmark movie, so…”

Dean flips him off, which just makes you laugh harder.

Sam grins at you. “Have you decided on a name yet?”

You and Dean glance at each other. No words, just that warm spark of a shared secret still under wraps.

“Maybe,” you say, teasing.

Sam rolls his eyes but lets it go, settling into a chair as the three of you ease into the kind of morning that doesn’t need to rush.

Just peace. Family. And the quiet promise that somehow, against every odd, this is the life you built—and no one’s taking it away.

It’s hard to believe two years have gone by.

You still remember the moment she arrived—screaming her little lungs out, squirming and red-faced, already strong. The pain of labor had been unlike anything you’d ever imagined, brutal and consuming, but Dean had been there through every second. He held your hand through every contraction, whispered steady words through every tear and cry, and kissed your temple when you told him you couldn’t do it—only to remind you gently, “You already are, sweetheart.”

And when it was over—when she was finally here—he cried with you.

You’d do it all over again, without hesitation. Every wave of pain, every exhausted breath… just to see her face for the first time again. Just to hear Dean choke out the words, “She’s perfect… she’s so perfect.”

Her name came easy.

Reina Charlie Winchester.

Your little queen. A name full of strength, love, and the memory of someone who still watches over you.

Now, two years later, that fierce little baby is a babbling, bold-hearted whirlwind who laughs with her whole body and somehow rules the bunker without even realizing it.

Today the bunker is quiet, warm, and full of the kind of stillness that only comes from a good day. You’re sitting on the floor of the war room with a blanket spread out beneath you, Reina in the center surrounded by a few favorite toys. Sam’s nearby, legs crossed, half-watching her while reading through a case file, and Dean leans in the doorway with a mug of coffee, eyes on the two of you like he still can’t believe this is his life now.

Reina babbles something unintelligible as she reaches for a stuffed moose, her chubby fingers wrapping around its ear. You smile, brushing a soft curl out of her face. “That one’s your favorite, huh?” you murmur.

Dean chuckles. “Of course she picks the moose. Kid knows family.”

Sam looks up at that, raising a brow with a crooked smile. “Or she just thinks I’m cuddlier than you.”

Dean scoffs. “Please. I’m a damn teddy bear.”

Sam smirks. “A teddy bear with a shotgun.”

You laugh under your breath, watching them with your heart full, Reina babbling away between them like she knows exactly what they’re saying.

You lean back on your hands—until Reina suddenly shifts, pushing herself upright with surprising determination. She stares ahead like she’s thinking hard, then plants her feet.

“Whoa—” you gasp, hands flying out in case she tips, but she steadies herself.

Dean straightens immediately. “Hey, hey…”

Reina takes one step. Then another.

“Oh my God,” you breathe. “Dean—!”

Sam’s eyes go wide. He’s already setting the file aside. “Is she—?”

Another step. She wobbles, arms out for balance, mouth open in concentration.

“Sweetheart, look at her!” Dean’s voice is thick with awe as he crouches low, arms out. “Come on, baby girl. Come to Daddy.”

“Reina, you’re doing it!” you say, heart thudding wildly.

And then—another step. Then a final one—right into Dean’s waiting arms. He scoops her up instantly, laughing like he can’t breathe.

“You did it! Oh my God, you walked!” he grins, spinning her around as she giggles and clutches his shirt. “You walked to me, baby girl!”

You press your hand to your heart, eyes stinging with tears. Sam’s next to you, blinking hard, shaking his head with a soft laugh.

“She’s really growing up,” he murmurs.

“She’s not even two,” you whisper back.

Sam grins, nudging your shoulder. “Still. She just took her first steps. That’s huge.”

Dean walks over, Reina still held snugly against his chest. She’s giggling, proud of herself, cheeks flushed with victory.

“She wanted to show off,” Dean says, beaming as he kisses her temple. “Knew her Uncle Sammy was here. Had to make it count.”

“She’s dramatic like her dad,” you tease gently.

Dean just winks. “And beautiful like her mama.”

Sam chuckles as you stand and wrap your arms around both of them—your whole little world in a single, glowing moment.

Reina gurgles, then babbles something that sounds suspiciously like “Dada,” and Dean nearly melts on the spot.

Sam throws a hand up. “Okay, that’s it. I’m calling dibs on her first full sentence.”

Dean smirks. “She already said her first words, Sammy. And they were perfect.”

You smile, warm and full, watching as your little girl snuggles close to her dad, her first steps already becoming the first story you’ll tell over and over again. The first of many.

And she walked right into his arms.

As the laughter settles into something softer, Reina crawls back into your lap with her moose clutched proudly in one hand. Her little fingers curl around yours, anchoring herself like you’re her whole world.

Dean slides in beside you on the couch, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other settling gently on Reina’s back. His palm spans across her tiny frame like it was made to be there, protective and tender all at once.

He leans in and kisses your temple, the scruff of his jaw brushing your skin. “We did good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion.

You glance at Sam, still sitting cross-legged on the floor, grinning like he’s witnessing a miracle. You smile back, then tilt your head toward Dean, your eyes shining.

“We really did.”

Dean’s hand finds your cheek, fingers warm and sure. You meet him halfway when he leans in—no hesitation, no nerves. Just the kind of kiss that says I’m home. I’m yours. Always.

Slow and deep, full of everything that’s been built and rebuilt between you.

When you part, your foreheads rest together for a beat, your smile pressed right into his.

And just like that, with your daughter safe in your arms and Dean’s love wrapped around you like a promise—everything is exactly as it should be.

Forever starts here.

A/N: Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this series and the sequel. Please let me know your thoughts and suggestions, I’m always open to improvement. 🫶

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