#CYIDaddy

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

Miss Me?

It had been a while.

“I fucking missed this,” Dean said breathlessly, pressing his little brother into the corner of the room. He grabbed one of Sam’s hands and interlaced their fingers together, pushing them above his head, holding him in place. Sam’s chest heaved, unable to look away from the eyes that pierced his soul. Dean leaned into Sam, knowing exactly what he was doing. His spare hand began exploring the button on Sam’s jeans. 

Sam couldn’t remember the last time he felt those strong hands on him. Those lips on his neck, that hard body pressed up against him, that tongue doing -

Oohh yeah…that.

“What do you think, Sammy,” Dean whispered. He spoke slowly and carefully, his lips hot and wet on Sam’s ear, “You want me to? Want my hands on you again? Did you miss me?”

His hand popped open the button he had been playing with, teasing down the zipper before he moved it to rub up Sam’s naked chest. The younger brother shivered. 

“Fuck Dean, I uhhh…” Goosebumps prickled his flesh and he moaned, his eyes rolling back at his brother's touch. He would have slumped to the ground if Dean hadn't been holding him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Dean said and pressed his lips to his brother’s neck.

[emptywithout]

I’m going to be a busy girl...

[rhythm-catsandwine]

Hey it's CYIDaddy here, not sure why I'm on anon? Would you mind checking to see if your reblog of Noodles DOESN'T have the word "mother" instead of brother? Gah, thats a horrible typo...

@cyi-can-you-imagine it has it. I will delete then reblog again.

Tumblr is doing weird stuff with asks and other things.

I have recently accidentally posted a fix with weird typos too.

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

Hello!!

Hello, my lovelies!

After an extended absence (has it really been two years?) I have returned. There's certainly a lot to share with y'all. But that will happen soon enough.

I'm hoping to share some new stories with you. I have some new drabbles and one longer one I'm not ready to post yet.

In the meantime, I'd love feedback on what I do post. Hopefully, I haven't lost my touch after 2 years of not writing (like I said, a lot has happened.)

If you aren't familiar with my writing, I write mostly wincest. I write sensual passionate stuff, like "Miss Me", and some a little rougher, like "Ride".

Also, much angst is coming. And cliffhangers. What can I say, I like drama...:)

In the meantime, any requests? I hope I can write stories for you again to make you smile (or cry, I guess...)

I guess I'm really writing again...

And Happy Thanksgiving :)

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

It’s watching Sam sleep that brings Dean the most joy.

To see him in this peaceful state. To watch his chest rise and fall in a slow, steady rhythm.

Watching him smile as he dreams.

Dean can’t get enough of it.

He trails his fingers lightly through Sam’s hair.

He discovers he craves these moments. He discovers he waits for these moments.

And he discovers he’s fallen in love.

Shit.

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

Thanksgiving

Sam walks into their motel room and instantly gasps. There’s a red plastic tablecloth over the table by the window. In the middle of the table is a small vase holding some plastic flowers.  The vase even has water in it, and it makes Sam smile so hard his cheeks hurt. There’s a delicious smell coming from the kitchenette in the corner, and Sam walks over to investigate. He passes the closed door to the bathroom and notices the shower is running.

On the counter are two small pies. One is clearly pumpkin and the other looks to be probably apple. There’s a pot on the stove and when he lifts the lid, a cloud of steam rises, wafting up a smell of mashed potatoes and Sam is stunned. There’s no oven, but there is a microwave, and when Sam opens it, there’s a small rotisserie chicken, the kind you can grab and go at any grocery store. 

Dean’s made him a Thanksgiving dinner, and Sam feels tears well up. He can’t remember the last time he had a Thanksgiving meal. There’s even a can of cranberry sauce on the counter, the kind that slides out in the shape of the can, which he knows Dean absolutely loves.

The shower turns off, and Sam isn’t sure what to do. He’s probably shown up a bit earlier than Dean expects, so he wonders if he should go outside so Dean can enjoy the surprise he planned.  There isn’t time though. Dean steps out of the shower, glistening wet. He’s towel-drying his hair, and he’s completely naked. Completely, beautifully naked.

“Dean, I - ” Sam stammers.

Dean’s face lights up.  “Sammy!” he shouts, a huge grin spreading across his face as he wraps the towel around his waist. He spreads his arms wide, clearly very proud of what he’s done. “Well? What do you think?”

Sam swallows and stammers, “Dean, this is - did you - ” But he can’t form the words. Even if it’s not much, it means the world to him. Dean softens his expression and strides over to his brother.

“Just wanted to do something for you Sammy,” Dean says, his voice low and sensual. He steps closer to his brother, if that’s even possible, reaches up, and tucks a lock of Sam’s hair behind his ear. “You deserve it, baby.” And before Sam can respond, Dean takes his brother’s face in his hands and kisses him, softly, deeply, and passionately.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Sammy.”

The towel drops to the floor.

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

Sam thinks Dean can’t see him.

Thinks he’s hidden in a place no one knows.

He cries here, feeling alone and desperate. Wants things he can never have.

But Dean sees.

And he knows.

The older Winchester wipes his hands across his eyes for no particular reason and walks away.

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

Seriously considering revitalizing some OG CYIDaddy stuff and writing wincest angst again...

But it's probably gonna be several chapters with cliffhangers because I can't help myself...

hmmmmm...

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

Whispers

Late nights in those motel rooms. John’s asleep in the bed next to them. Dean whispers dirty words into his brother’s ear.

It’s those dirty words that make Sam feel the heat and passion of what they are doing even more.

He craves those whispers.

Even when they can’t touch because John’s awake-Dean fills his brother’s head with filthy words, whisper quiet, right at Sam’s ear.

Whispers how wrong this is.

And yet how right.

Sam shivers at those whispers.

Craves them.

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

Thoughts?

Scrolling through my blog...and I have hundreds of pieces of writing...I used to write all the time!

Thinking about cleaning up this CYIDaddy stuff and maybe reposting some series? I had quite a few longer series, too...

Some series I never finished, like Alone and Dean's Discovery, and The Way You Breathe. I just don't know what to do with all of them. Move on and work on fresh stuff? Finish and revitalize old stuff?

And anon, I saw your Omega!Sam request...It's not my usual, I think I've only written it twice? But I'll give it a go. Might take me a bit cause I want to do it justice...

Anyway, so...thoughts? New Stuff? Old memories?

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

Soooo….

It might be time for angst again…👀

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

What's your ao3?

My AO3 is emptywithout, but there isn't much there, I don't think. I almost abandoned it and deleted everything a while back. I recently posted about 4 things, but those were also posted here. I didn't even look to see what's still there, so I'll have to look.

Everything there is about 2 years old as well. But I think when I post my new long fic, I'll post there as well as here...

Hope you enjoy what you find!

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

Soft

Dean is soft, so soft with his baby brother. Sure, he’s got cut and calloused hands, but they are tender and gentle when it comes to Sammy’s skin. 

It’s always feather soft in the beginning, until Sam finally decides and steers Dean in the direction he wants to go that night. 

And tonight, it’s rough that Sam wants. He’s desperate to get Dean to push harder, to pull harder. He begs for it. And Dean does, of course. 

Sam gasps softly, craving more of his brother’s touch.

Dean always gives Sam what he wants. And even when he’s rough, he’s still gentle.

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

Maybe

His fingers reach out in the darkness. Their faces are inches away, but Sam’s asleep. Dean lets the very tips of his fingertips brush through his brother’s hair. 

Sam’s eyes stay closed. He doesn’t react to Dean’s touch. Dean studies his brother’s peaceful expression as he softly places a stray piece of Sam’s hair behind his ear, and pushes his bangs out of his eyes. 

Maybe he touches my hair when I sleep

His hand trembles as he pulls it back under the blanket. 

It’s around 3 am and nearly pitch black in their hotel room. They’re sharing a bed again. They’ve done that a lot. Except now Dean just wants to reach out and wrap his arm around Sam’s waist and pull him close. Wants to feel Sam’s warm skin press against his own. Wonders what his lips might feel like.

Maybe Sam thinks about my lips, too.

He moves closer. Close enough to feel Sam’s warmth, but not quite touching.

Maybe just a kiss on the cheek. Maybe he’ll wake up and -

John snores in the bed beside them.

Dean flinches and bumps his knee into Sam’s side.

Sam furrows his brow and opens his eyes slowly and briefly. They meet Dean’s startled green ones before they close again.  He rolls over, facing away from Dean. He says nothing

Maybe he’ll roll back over again soon.

He doesn’t.

Maybe tomorrow.

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

Drive

“I don’t think I tell you enough, Sam.” Dean's voice is soft.

“What’s that?” Sam’s staring ahead at the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel lightly. He’s excited to be able to drive for once, and barely hears Dean’s words over the noise of the engine.

“That you’re beautiful.” Sam hears Dean’s words and they fall from the air into his lap where he can almost see them. He feels the blood rush from his face and he has to pull over, he’s so light headed.  Dean just chuckles.

“I’m…what?”

“You heard me Sam. Beautiful.” Dean doesn’t look away.

It’s a while before Sam drives again.

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

Hii. I love your writing and I was wondering if you could write about that episode were Dean threw the samulet im the trashcan. I need, oh I really need an alternate universe were everythings the same except for that. I need Sam to somehow stop Dean just in time, or to complain, or to throw a tantrum about how painful it is for him to see his older brother throwing away such a meaningful gift. Or to see Dean feeling guilty the second he crossed the doorframe. SOMETHING. I kinda hate the writers for allowing such a painful scene to happen.

Hi!

I'm so glad you are enjoying! Thank you for the ask!!

Samulet

“Dean, what are you doing?” his voice is panicked, almost childlike. He’s stunned at what his brother is about to do. Is he seeing things?

Dean's got a necklace in his tightly clenched fist, hovering over the garbage can by the door.

It can't be the-  

Dean, his back to Sam, flinches. He’d hoped Sam wouldn’t have seen.

Sam strides up to Dean and grabs the wrist that is still holding the amulet he gave him for Christmas so many years ago. He’s shocked, angry, and sad. He’s overwhelmed and not sure what to think. Dean doesn’t move, his back still to his brother. He doesn’t want to look at him. He still holds the necklace in an almost death-like grip.

“What are you doing? Why - why would you do this? This is us - this is everything!” Sam sputters his words, tears starting to form in his eyes.

Dean takes a deep breath and turns to face his brother.

And his heart shatters.

Sam’s sad, beautiful puppy dog eyes pull at his heart. He is clearly very hurt by this. Dean immediately starts to rethink this decision. He’d had no idea it would affect Sam this much.

“Sam, you don’t understand. This has to be -”

“No, Dean, YOU don’t understand. This is everything, this means - “ but he can’t finish. He chokes back a sob and lets go of Dean’s wrist. He lowers his head, long hair covering his eyes.  “If it doesn’t mean anything to you, then I guess I can’t stop you.” Without another word, he turns and walks to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

It happens so fast, Dean can’t respond. He looks at the amulet in his hand, and then at the bathroom door. He sighs and shakes his head, placing Sam’s everything in his pocket.

He walks toward the bathroom door and knocks.

“Hey, Sammy. Let’s talk, baby.”