#Sam Winchester Fic

[ohsc]

₊˚⊹♡ letting you | sam winchester x reader

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

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

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That had been twenty minutes ago.

It was becoming torturous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded, bit the inside of her cheek.

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

Letting you. Her cunt throbbed again.

“Yeah.” She whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded against his throat, relaxed into his front.

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

She nodded again.

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

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

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

She nodded again. “Yeah, Sammy.”

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

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

[prentissluvr]

three seconds — sam winchester

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[nyxiswrites1200]

Hello Good Night, I was wondering if you could write some smut with Sammy Winchester please, I love him so much I'm obsessed with this man.

♡ 𝑬𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 ♡

Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, Committed Relationship, Praise kink, Size kink, Aftercare, p in v, multiple orgasms, Squirting

Mentions: Reader always squirts, Sam gets pussy drunk, Reader is a little shy

An: Hey loves! I'm so sorry that it took me this long to make an official response :( but I hope you enjoy it <3 Thank you so much for 100 followers, babes! Also ugh Sam's arms in that gif, they need to put me down!

----

Sam was a sweet boyfriend. He was so sweet and such a gentleman to top it off. That also made you a little shy when it came to sex.

You and Sam had make out sessions and you've sucked his cock. You've been too shy to let him see your climax though. Why? Because you always squirt! It was always so messy no matter what. If you came, you squirted, no doubt about it.

However, you found yourself beneath Sam. He kissed you passionately, clothes discarded in a mess on the floor. You were so turned on and you needed him so bad that you thought maybe you could control it enough...

But Sam was good, too good. His cock hit all the right spots inside you. His large hands held your hips tightly as he went at a fast pace. The veins in his arms and hands were visible, you could feel that prominent vein that was on the underside of his dick against the tight walls of your cunt.

"Sammyyy~" You whined out loudly as he thrust right up against that sensitive spot each time. "Good girl, sweetie...takin' it so well" he groaned. His large body is hovering over yours, a thin layer of sweat coating toned figure. You were soaking his cock, even his balls were covered in your slick.

You felt that familiar feeling of an orgasm approaching. Before you could process, you squirted all over Sam's cock.

You moaned out loudly, his lower stomach now glistening with some of your slick. His hips stopped for a moment, leaving his tip pressed deep against your cervix.

You felt your face heat up when you realized what you'd done.

"Sam- I didn't mean to-" you stutter but Sam kisses you deeply. You gasp as you kiss him back and tangling your hands into his hair.

He starts moving his hips again, fucking you harder. His hands move to your thighs and push them into your stomach. He pulls away as he groans loudly "Fuck, do it again, sweetie" he moans as he pounds your soaked pussy. His cock threatened to slip out from all the slick you had produced.

Sam had gotten pussy drunk from seeing you squirt on his cock. He pounded you for what felt like hours. He came inside you twice, watching you squirt all over his cock until it dripped down his thighs.

"Mm, good girl" he praised into your ear as he laid next to you in bed. After he pulled his gaze away from his cum dripping out of you.

He took care of you. Kissing down your neck and shoulders as he cleaned you up.

"Why did you hide such a...attractive talent?" He teased with that stupid smile of his "Shut up" you lightly pushed him away as you bit your lip.

[bklynsboys]

Operation: Hide Our Relationship (?)

pairing: dean winchester x reader

summary: “you know,” dean murmured, his voice barely audible over the engine. "you always look so cute trying to deny we're not together." you jumped, startled, your hand instinctively reaching for the door handle. “what?”

genre: fluff

word count: 0.5k

author's notes: wrote a silly little drabble about how i see dean hard launching his relationship! the man is the biggest blabbermouth & he'd definitely be the first to announce that he's dating the love of his life to the most important person in his life (aside from you, of course), his brother. so, sit tight! i hope you'll smile from the the tooth-rotting fluff <3

THE IMPALA HUMMED WITH THE AFTEREFFECTS OF THE HUNT, THE AIR THICK WITH THE METALLIC TANG OF BLOOD AND THE FAINT, ACRID SCENT OF BURNT BONES. Dean slumped in the driver's seat, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and rhythmic, a stark contrast to the chaos you had just escaped. You sat beside him, your hands trembling despite the adrenaline fade. A thin film of sweat clung to your skin, and your heart pounded like a trapped animal. In the backseat, Sam tried to ignore the charged atmosphere, his eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the darkening road.

He’d suspected for a while. The knowing glances, the easy touches, the way their eyes lit up when they spoke – it was like an open secret, obvious to everyone but them. He'd tried to voice his suspicions, but they’d always laughed it off, their denials as practiced as their hunting rituals.

“You know,” Dean murmured, his voice barely audible over the engine. "You always look so cute trying to deny we're not together."

You jumped, startled, your hand instinctively reaching for the door handle. “What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart.” A lazy grin spread across Dean’s face. His green eyes, usually sharp and focused, held a softer glow. "You look adorable when you're all red-faced and in denial that we're together in front of Sammy."

A blush warmed your cheeks, and you could feel the heat rising in your neck. “Shut up, Dean!” You tried to sound indifferent, but your voice cracked, betraying the giddiness within.

There's nothing more than you want aside from screaming at the top of your lungs that finally, you and Dean were together.

"And you," cheeks still pink from your boyfriend's teasing, you turned your head towards his younger brother in the backseat. "Sam Winchester, stop smirking. I know you're finding this really funny."

Sam merely raised his hands in surrender, shaking his head at your accusation. "I didn't say anything."

Dean chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “See? So cute trying to prove my point.”

Sam couldn’t resist a snort. “Really, Dean? Now’s the time?”

Dean feigned offense, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “A guy can appreciate his own relationship, can’t he?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “You two are impossible.”

Sam grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Just admit it, you’re totally into each other.”

They exchanged a look, a silent agreement to ignore him. But the truth was written in their eyes, in the way they moved in sync, the unspoken understanding that hummed between them like buzz.

“Can we please just go?” you mumbled, your voice muffled by your hands. "I wanna shower. I stink of graveyard dirt and sweat."

Dean nodded, his expression softening. He reached for your hand, his touch grounding. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Sam sighed dramatically. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything.”

As the Impala ate up the road, the tension eased. With Dean's hand in yours, a promise of safety and companionship, you drifted off to sleep, the rhythmic hum of the vehicle and the gentle sway lulling you into a state of quiet.

[samuelsdean]

Next To You

pairing: sam winchester x reader

summary: waking up next to sam was your favorite thing in the world.

genre: fluff

word count: 1.4k

author's notes: i would very much love to wake up next to sam don't y'all think so? i literally wrote this because i think t'd feel so good to be hugged by him the entire night and wake up to him first thing in the morning.

WAKING UP NEXT TO SAM WAS PROBABLY YOUR FAVORITE THING IN THE WORLD. IT WAS YOUR REFUGE, A SANCTUARY FROM THE WORLD'S HARSH EDGES. It was a reminder that each day is another day you get to spend the rest of your life with the love of your life.

You loved waking up next to Sam because his warmth radiated like your favorite hoodie, chasing away the remnants of a cool summer night. Tucked into the space between his jaw and chest, you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath, his arms encasing you.

Slowly, you untangled yourself from his embrace, careful not to disturb his sleep. The light of dawn peeked through the window, painting a golden sheen across Sam's face. His brow furrowed slightly, a crease etched between his eyes, usually reserved for facing down monsters, but right now, it softened with sleep, replaced by the slight ajar of his lips.  

Watching Sam sleep had you going through your memories in a flash—the way he surprised you with your favorite flowers, after being gone from a hunt, a shy smile gracing his features as he laid a gentle kiss on your reddened cheeks. You smiled wistfully when you recalled how Sam confessed to you his feelings the night he had gotten home from a hunt that went on too long and could've gone sideways.

The motel room door creaked open, revealing a battered Sam Winchester. Dried blood stained the sleeve of his jacket and he was sporting a nasty gash on his right cheek, a grim souvenir from the hunt gone south.

Exhaustion hung heavy around him, a storm cloud threatening to unleash the floodgates of aches and pains. He wanted to go to sleep as soon as he stepped inside the dank motel room, but the tiny flicker of light beneath the door held him captive.

There you were, bathed in the warm glow of a lamp, hands wringing together and brows crimped in worry. Sam seemed to forget all about sleep when he saw you. He has never yearned for anything the way he has right now with the sight of you, his relic of normalcy in his chaotic world. He pushed the door open further, the sound jarring in the silence.

You looked up, surprise giving way to relief. "Sam! Thank goodness you're alright. I was worried sick after you've been gone for so long."

A weak smile formed on his lips. "We got them. Nasty ghouls took longer than expected." He shuffled closer, the weight of the hunt pulling at him. He could feel the warmth radiating from the room, a stark contrast to the bone-chilling night he'd endured.

You stood up and reached out, your hand brushing against his cheek. The touch, even through the grime, sent a jolt through him. It was a simple gesture, yet it held the power to ground him, to remind him of what he was fighting for—what he was going home to.

"You look like hell," you said, your voice laced with concern. "Go wash up, then I'll get you something to eat. There's a diner near here, open 24/7 apparently, Bobby told me on the phone earlier, bless his gruff soul."

He allowed himself to be ushered towards the bathroom, crumpling onto the tub with a groan. As the hot water washed away the grime and fatigue, something else started to wash over him. It was the weight of his unspoken feelings, a truth he could no longer keep buried.

He emerged from the bathroom, a fresh towel wrapped around his hair. You were already by the table, a steaming cup of coffee and grub waiting for him. He caught your gaze, the way your eyes held a warmth that chased away the chills of the hunt.

"Listen," Sam began, his voice thick with emotion. You tilted your head in confusion as to what he was trying to say. "This life… it's not easy. It's dangerous, messy, and frankly, it terrifies me sometimes."

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. "But then I come back here, see you… and suddenly, facing it all over again, well, it doesn't seem so bad. It feels… bearable."

A blush crept up your neck, mirroring the heat rising in his own. You opened your mouth to speak, but he pressed on.

"I know this is crazy," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "But, I can't keep it in anymore. I… I care about you. A lot more than a friend."

The silence stretched, heavy with anticipation. He braced himself for a rejection, the fear of a cold fist squeezing his heart. Then, you reached out, your hand gently cupping his cheek.

"Sam," you said, your voice soft, "you're not the only one who feels that way."

Relief flooded him, warm and exhilarating. A hesitant smile spread across his face. "Really?"

You nodded, your eyes sparkling. "For a long time, actually."

He leaned in, the space between them collapsing in a rush. The kiss was soft, a tentative exploration of your unspoken feelings toward each other. But within it, there was a spark, a promise of something deeper. He pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, a newfound warmth radiating from within.

"So," he whispered, a grin tugging at his lips, "does this mean I get to keep bothering you for a while longer?"

You chuckled, a sound that filled the room with a melody of hope. "Looks like you're stuck with me, Winchester. Now, about that coffee…"

He pulled you close, the scent of coffee and the lingering warmth from the confession clinging to the air.  

Yes, in the face of whatever darkness awaited, this peaceful moment with Sam was a treasure. You leaned in, brushing a kiss against his cheek, a silent promise whispered against his lips, "I'll wake you soon, pretty boy."

The sunlight, bolder now, sliced through the gap in the curtains, landing right on Sam's eyelids. He let out a soft groan, sleep fading as he blinked the light away. Unlike you, mornings weren't exactly his best friend. For a moment, his eyes fluttered closed again, then snapped open, a glimmer of surprise crossing his face when he realized you weren't there.

"Morning, baby," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. He reached out instinctively, his hand brushing against the empty space where you'd been. A frown tugged at his lips for a brief moment before it softened into a smile as he spotted you by the window.

You were turned away from him, busy reading a paperback. The rising sun cast an ethereal glow around you, highlighting the way your hair seemed to catch fire with golden light. A shiver danced down Sam's spine, a mix of the cool morning air and the unexpected sight before him.

"Hey there, Sleepyhead," you said over your shoulder, your voice laced with amusement as you turned back to face him. "You look like you could use some more shut-eye."

He stretched languidly, the movement sending a groan escaping his lips. "Nah, I'm good. Just gotta get the lead out before Bobby gets impatient." He winced slightly, a reminder of the recent hunt probably still clinging to his muscles.

A playful glint lit up your eyes. "Lead out, huh? Sounds fancy. Did you polish your shoes too, Mr. Winchester?"

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a warmth radiating through you. "Only the finest demon-blood repellent for this hunter, sweetheart." He reached for you, his hand warm and strong as he pulled you close, grinning at how easily he could make you laugh with his comebacks.

As you snuggled into his embrace, a comfortable silence settled between you. However, a shadow lingered in the back of your mind. The thought of Bobby calling usually meant trouble brewing. You decided to break the comfortable silence.

"Any whispers about what Bobby wants this time?" you asked, your voice soft.

Sam shook his head, his expression turning serious. "Not a peep. Knowing Bobby, it'll involve something nasty, a whole lot of rotgut, and probably a cryptic message scribbled on some random book." He paused, his gaze softening on you.

"But whatever it is," he continued, his voice low and reassuring, "we'll face it together. Like always."

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his cheek. "Always," you whispered the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air—together, no matter what the coming day brought.

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Quiet days ♡ Sam Winchester

Moments like this were rare.

Moments where the world stopped for just a moment, and it felt like maybe, just maybe there was peace and quiet. Well, almost anyways.

You knew what awaited you when you woke up. You knew there would be a mew string of bodies, and other salt and burn or a demonic possession. But right now you were being selfish. You'd earnt it, or at least that's what you tell yourself in order to enjoy these moments.

Sam was still asleep, his arms tightly wrapped around your waist, his hair slightly messy, an imperceptible smile on his face.

It was rare moments like these that you longed for.

It had been almost three months exactly since you and Sam actually admitted how you felt about eachother. It was years in the making. But then one night after a particularly hard hitting case everything was laid out. You finally showed hom your cards.

And that was the fist time Sam Winchester kissed you.

His lips soft and delicate, trying to communicate everything that he couldn't say, eveything that was simply too much for words to convey. Years of longing and hope finally came to fruition.

It had been bliss ever since. Well, as much bliss as can be afforded on the road. But you had eachother, and that was all that mattered.

"What you thinking about?" Sam mumbled pulling you closer to him woth his arm tucked around your waist as he placed a kiss on your hair.

"Nothin'," you sighed, surrendering yourself to his embrace.

"Love?" The name rolled of his tongue as if he'd been calling you this his whole life, it still made you blush, maybe that's why he always called you love. "Talk to me, even if it's utter nonsense I still want to know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."

You turned in his arms and looked him in the eyes.

"It's just, this is all I ever wanted," you paused, drinking in his early morning smile, "The white picket fence, kids and a dog, the perfect life, a normal career. All of it means nothing if I dint have moments like this with you. Moments of slow peaceful bliss."

His eyes softened as he began to smile.

"God I love you," he mumbled as he tilted his head to kiss you.

His lips brushing yours for just a second when you began to pull away.

He began to pout, gazing at you with his infamous puppy dog eyes that made you simply melt. "what?" He questioned, feigning hurt.

"Brush your teeth, you have morning breath." You commented, smiling ever so softly.

He rolled his eyes and groaned at your remark as his head fell back onto the pillows melodramatically.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled tucking his head into the cruck of you neck pulling you impossibly closer.

Moments like this may be rare, but they were one of the most precious thing in the world, second only to the brunet man who lay beside you and saw his whole world when he looked in your eyes.

[pinkiebieberpie]

pov: your camera roll if you were on a vacation with sam, dean and castiel

who said a hunter can't take a break? lots of fun, enjoying your time together at a peaceful place and just a little bit of hunting 🌲☀️

tagging my sun @fleurfairie ☀️

supernatural masterlist

[butlers-bitch]

home life with Jared ♥️🧺🕯️

[zepskies]

Hi, how are you?

I was wondering if you could write something like "Dean reads you wrong" but with Sam Please

Hey, lovely!

I'm doing well, thank you. 💜 I hope you are too! Hmm, I'm still working through my current bank of requests, but since "Dean reads you wrong" is so fresh, it got me thinking about how Sam would go about this...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: It's hard for Sam to admit he wants you...when he thinks you might want his brother.

Song Inspo: "If You're Gone" by Matchbox Twenty

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Sam reads you wrong.

When Sam falls for someone, he's...well, what he would call self-aware.

But also cautious.

He knows his own track record with women. He knows the life he leads, and has resigned himself to giving up most kinds of normalcy or domesticity.

And maybe, a part deep in the back of his brain has given up on the idea of love.

That's why it's so damn confounding...how you've managed to take him by surprise.

He's always been able to rely on you. Whether it's sharing the brunt of the research with him when Dean loses focus, or staying up with Sam on late nights, sharing mugs of tea and quiet conversation, bonding over familiar tastes in books, and '90s grunge music, of all things.

You also confessed to him, late one night, that you have a growing collection of mugs, fuzzy socks, and vinyl records, despite the fact that your record player has collected more dust than the bunker's old storage room.

You're wonderfully weird.

And you're unfailingly loyal to who you consider "your people." And Sam thinks (knows) he's fortunate enough to be included in that small circle.

Sam also knows, deep in his gut, no matter how much he tries to "rationalize" it away, that you're special. And special to him.

You've managed to do more than just slip under his skin. When he thinks too hard on it, he can admit it (just to himself). You've infiltrated all four corners of his heart so deeply, he doesn't have a prayer of scooping you out.

Some days, it's all he can do not to reach out while you're chatting away, filling the silence.

He can picture it like a scene in his mind: of interrupting your mouth with a gentle hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to his and showing you, with or without words, that he wants you...

And yet.

He can't help but watch how you are with Dean.

You two tease each other, bicker and gripe over coffee grinds left in the coffee pot and who ate the last of the leftovers. You fight with Dean over the remote on movie night (once, damn near smothering him with a pillow).

But you also dote on him, making sure Dean has one of his favorite desserts every time you go out to buy groceries. You swap his beer out for water when he's not looking. (And though Dean frowns and grumbles, he doesn't argue with your raised brow and imploring look.)

It's not quite flirting, but it's not quite platonic either—at least in Sam's eyes. You and Dean seem to have something.

And sometimes, your playful banter with his brother makes Sam sick to his stomach.

Like today, when Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table reading while you're making a cup of tea. The silence between you two is amiable, like usual.

Sam steals a glance at you and has to smile.

"Going with purple polka dots today?" he asks.

You look over with knitted brows of confusion, until you follow his gaze. You laugh sheepishly and wiggle your toes through your fuzzy socks.

"The floor is cold as hell," you defend yourself.

Sam's smile deepens a fraction as he turns back to his book.

"They're cute," he adds.

You turn your face to hide your blush. The mild thunder of heavy boots announces Dean's presence as he pops into the kitchen.

"Oh good, you're cooking. What's for dinner?" he asks. You turn to give him a familiar narrowed look.

"Who says I'm cooking?" you counter.

"Well, you're doing something on the stove..." Dean peers over and catches a whiff of the concoction you're brewing. He grimaces. "Second thought, I'm good. That smells like ass, whatever it is."

You roll your eyes at him. "It's just green tea, Dean. You know, health?"

He levels a deadpan expression at you as he opens up the pantry.

"I see your 'health' and I raise you...Doritos," he says. He digs his hand into the bag he's just pilfered and crunches a mouthful in your face. You can't help but splutter a laugh and push Dean away.

"You're ridiculous. If you catch a heart attack at 50, don't come crying to me."

"Hey, at least I'll die happy."

"Oh, right. A silver lining there. I'd hate to see what your arteries look like," you tease.

"Has anyone told you that you're unsavory?" Dean asks, continuing to crunch with an open mouth.

You smirk. "Is that your way of calling me sweet?"

He snorts. "Sure, sweetheart. We'll call it that."

"You know, I'm not your sweetheart," you point out.

Dean discreetly glances his brother's way with a sly glint in his eyes. Sam doesn't see it; by now he's trying his damndest to keep his eyes in his book and ignore the way his stomach is clenching, chest tightening.

Dean shifts his attention back at you and reaches down to brush your chin with his thumb.

"Not yet, but you could be," he says, in a flirtatious edge that he's never quite taken with you.

You're wide-eyed for a moment. In the end, though, you choose to take it as teasing. You push his hand away and give him an annoyed look.

"God, you're such a clown. Order a pizza if you're that hungry," you rejoin, and you pour two mugs of freshly brewed tea. "I won't even bother offering you one."

"Nope," Dean says, popping the "p." He walks out of the kitchen, giving Sam a firm slap on the back. Sam coughs and shoots his brother a frown.

Dean has the gall to wink at him before he walks out. Like he's having his own little private joke.

Well, Sam isn't laughing. He stares down hard at his book. He tries to ignore everything he just heard and saw out of the corner of his eye.

It becomes too much. He takes up his book and heads out of the kitchen.

He just doesn't see the way you frown as he walks away. There you stand, left holding two mugs of tea for you and him.

Sam returns to his room for a while. He's not hiding. He's...reading.

There's a knock at his door, and if it's Dean, he swears he's going to open his mouth and tell his brother to leave him the hell alone, like he's some kind of moody teen.

But it's you.

"Hey," you greet, after the door creaks open. Sam softens.

"Hey," he says, clearing his throat. "What's up?"

"You," you reply. You bring him his hot mug of tea and set it down on the desk where he sits.

"Thanks," he says.

You nod and place your mug beside his (Lord of the Rings themed, of course), and cross your arms as you lean against his desk.

Sam turns toward you in his chair. His hands rest on his thighs. His gaze travels back up to your face as he tries to keep his neutral, but welcoming to whatever you want to ask him. (He buries his heart deep, as he instinctively does whenever you're near him.)

"You okay?" you ask. Your brows furrow the longer you gaze down at him. Just staring, like you know he's hiding something. Like you can see straight into him, into the shadows where he keeps most of his thoughts of you.

This is perhaps the only area of his life where he's a coward.

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam replies, in a tone that suggests, Why wouldn't I be?

You quirk a smile. "Why don't I believe you?"

Sam swallows. For once, he's not sure what to say to you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you say softly. You take a subtle step into his orbit, almost between his open legs. Your demeanor says that you'd gladly listen, do whatever he asked of you. Because you're just that kind.

Sam's mouth twitches upward. "I know. I'm fine, really."

"You're fine, or you're Winchester fine?" you raise a brow.

Sam chuckles then, showing a flash of his smile. It lightens you.

"Maybe a bit of the second one," he admits.

You smile and inch closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah? Tell me," you say. Your voice is soft, but not quite a whisper.

It leads Sam to sigh. He grasps your hand where it lies on his shoulder. For a moment, he debates internally. He realizes then that Dean's antics earlier might've been more than just teasing. Maybe it was a subtle nudge—to stop wasting time.

Damn it, just do something, Sam thinks.

When you squeeze his hand back, it's just the small push he needs. He glances up at you.

Then he takes your hand and holds it between both of his, with care. He tugs you forward, surprising you as you step forward between his legs. Your mouth parts in soft surprise when he reaches a hand up to your cheek.

You still look surprised, blushing up to your ears, but you're not pulling away. In fact, your widened gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.

Sam smiles. He tugs you down to him and enacts a living daydream, finally kissing you with everything he has. Everything he’s had locked inside.

You respond to his mouth in kind; the subtle gasp of breath against his lips sharply cuts off as you sink into his kiss. Your trembling hand comes to his cheek, grazing the dull prickle of stubble. When your fingers dive into his hair next, it’s his turn to take a deep breath.

With each new kiss, he explores more of you. His hands find your waist, and he gathers you against his chest. You find purchase on his strong shoulders and give into the opportunity to straddle his hips, sitting in his lap while he continues to make your heartbeat wild in your chest.

Sam slows the kiss, only because his brain is starting to catch up with his heart. He wants to see your face, to make sure this is what you want.

He finds that and more when he looks up at you.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his thumb against your cheek.

"Does that answer your question?" he asks, with a soft laugh. You join him and press your forehead against his.

"I don't know,” you tease. Your eyes are dancing, both with amusement and relief. Because your heart has wanted this for even longer than Sam's.

You lean back in to whisper close to his lips. “Maybe I need a little more clarity."

Sam takes you at your word.

AN: It's been a long time since I've written for Sam! 💜 I got in another request for him a while ago. I may dust that one off soon... Until then, let me know what you think of this!

(And don't worry. I didn't forget about the Soldier Boy imagine I promised. That will come out at the end of this week, most likely!)

Read Dean's version: "Dean reads you wrong."

Sam Winchester Masterlist

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[castiwls]

now that we don't talk - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'you grew your hair long you got new icons’

Requested; @beanysofa

Notes; so sorry this took so long exams really kicked my ass but I officially finished my a-levels today so ill hopefully be quicker :)reqs and inbox are open !

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

A small sigh escaped your lips as you slowly swirled the drink around the cup. The sound of idle chatter seemed to blur into the background as you finished the last of your drink, the liquid burning slightly as you swallowed.

Placing the cup down you turned in your seat, watching the crowd for a moment. It was still only early meaning the crowd was relatively small - something which you quietly appreciated.

You watched the room for a moment longer, simply content in observing the world around you before a voice pulled you from your own little world. Your heart seemed to pick up slightly as the voice called your name again, this time closer.

“Sam?” You started in almost disbelief as he suddenly appeared beside you, a casual smile on his face.

He looked different. Older even yet his smile left you feeling like a teenager again. Your breath seemed to become stuck in your throat for a moment before a quiet laugh fell from your lips. “Wha…what are you doing here?” 

Sam leaned against the bar, his eyes brightening almost as you turned your attention to him fully.  “Dean found a job, so we're just passing through.” He smiled, shrugging slightly as you nodded. “Should I be worried?” You teased, frowning slightly. 

Sam laughed shaking his head. “No. No. Luckily you don’t fit the victim type.” You nodded pursing your lips. “Lucky me.”

You both fell quiet for a moment before he cleared his throat. “So you live here?” He raised an eyebrow his eyes briefly glancing over the bar. “Yeah. Yeah, I moved here for work not that long ago.” You said watching him as he looked around. You leaned in slightly lowering your voice. “Pretty boring town to be honest.” You smiled leaning back slightly.

Sam nodded, his breath catching slightly as you leaned in, your leg brushing against his. “It's nice. Quiet.” 

“Too quiet.” You scoffed. 

Sam seemed to think for a moment, casting a glance behind him before lowering his voice. “Do you ever miss it?” His eyes met yours, his gaze boring into your own as he seemed to hold his breath. “Yeah. I do actually.” You admitted after a moment. “I didn’t think I would.” You shook your head, sighing quietly. 

“I miss the thrill I guess. It’s nice not being in constant danger but it’s…I don’t know too quiet.” You shrugged. It was true. You’d walked away from hunting five years ago and not a day went by where you didn’t consider running back to it. 

Running back to him - but that thought only came sometimes.

Sam nodded after a moment, his eyes glancing down to where your hand rested on the bar. He slowly placed one of his own hands over yours, squeezing it slightly. “Well, it’s definitely not as bearable without you.” 

Your cheeks flushed slightly as you ducked your chin, a small smile pulling on your lips. Sam chuckled quietly, dipping his own face to flash you a grin. “I mean it. Dean isn’t half as bearable alone.”

You looked up, smiling. “Well. Work isn’t half as exciting anymore.” 

He pursed his lips briefly looking over your shoulder for a moment before catching your gaze. “Would you ever come back?” His other hand gently grasped your waist as he stepped closer.

You pretended to think for a moment. “I think I could be convinced.” 

He hummed dipping his head slightly before closing the gap between you both. His lips pressed against yours and you felt the air leave your lungs for a moment. The hand not grasped in his gently gripped the nape of his neck.

After a moment you pulled back, a grin on his face as he watched you. You continued running a hand through his hair before softly saying his name.

Sam hummed squeezing your hip.

“Your hair’s longer than I remember.”

[ohsc]

₊˚⊹♡ mean | sam winchester x reader

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

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

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

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he pulled away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You just wanna wash my hair huh?”

Sam smiled. “Guilty.”

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

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

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

[prentissluvr]

something about being close — sam winchester

pairing : s.2!sam winchester x gn!reader, featuring platonic dean ➖⟢ genre : angst, fluff, ➖⟢ cw : sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n ➖⟢ wc : 9.5K summary : sam is acting weird, and when it puts people in danger, you can't let it slide (despite the fact that you're totally in love with him).

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket. 

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger's seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years. 

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.” 

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours. 

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have. 

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up. 

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch. 

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed. 

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel. 

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat. 

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand. 

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love. 

but you still don't quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips. 

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn't seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap. 

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth. 

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible. 

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

[deanswhiskey]

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 - 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

summary; its sams birthday and his wish comes true

wc; 1,113

warnings; nothing but some kisses

authors note; AAAAHHHHH IM SO SORRY I HAVENT POSTED IN AGES BUT I WANTED TO PUT OUT SOMETHING FOR SAMS BIRTHDAY AND IK ITS LATE BUT OH WELL i promise ill start writing more when i'm done with this semester :))) also this is proofread bc i rushed to put this out apologies for any mistakes

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

the late, late night of may 1st was spent alone in the kitchen. you were so graciously baking your best friend sam a beautiful birthday cake.

since arriving to the bunker and having a ginormous kitchen all to yourselves, you thought it’d be a great idea to start baking and cooking again. being on the road, hunting monsters, you never got the chance to cook or bake. the only cooking you ever did was heating up some frozen dinners for everyone from the store.

not that you minded, sometimes they were good; but nothing, nothing, ever beats a home cooked meal. and to top it all off, homemade dessert.

that’s why when you all settled into the bunker, you went on a big grocery spree and bought almost everything in the store.

the very first meal you cooked was fettuccine alfredo with chicken. something your mother used to make all the time when you were younger and have loved ever since.

when sam and dean walked into the kitchen they couldn’t help but notice the divine aroma.

“‘m my god, what’s that smell,” dean asked searching around for what could be it.

you moved out of the way of the stove to show them a view of the food, “it’s fettuccine alfredo and chicken. it’s almost ready, fo you two wanna set the table?”

they both nodded with enthusiasm, getting plates and forks and knives and set them on the table nearby.

the noodles, sauce, and chicken were finally done and incorporated. you took the pan and a large spoon to scoop it with and headed over to the boys who looked like they were about to start eating from the pan. as soon as the food hit their plates they wasted no time digging in. you chuckled as you watched them almost eat it whole.

that night marked the start of some of the best food sam and dean had eaten.

so now you were baking and decorating the most extravagant looking cake for the man you were secretly in love with.

you don’t know when it happened but something changed and you no longer wanted to just be friends; you wanted more. more than just a quick side hug when celebrating, more than just high fives. you wanted whole, endearing hugs; you wanted to interlink hands and never let go.

the cake you were baking you surly knew sam would like. it’s his favorite cake flavor and a beautiful frosting color. you even added ruffled borders on the top and bottom and near perfect lettering on the top. this cake was made with love.

it was 11:49 pm when you finished and you had flour in your hair, frosting on your shirt, and excess batter on the counter. the cake was put in the fridge to chill over night and the kitchen was finally cleaned 10 minutes later. you quickly showered before hopping into bed with a small smile on your face knowing your best friend would be so happy with everything.

morning came and you and dean had to be the first ones up to set out everything. dean went out to buy balloons (that you and dean so tiresomely blew up) and banners to hand from the walls. he also set out the few presents the two of you bought, even after sam said he didn’t want anything (you both knew you were gonna buy him something anyways), and you set out the cake with the candles, lighting the fee of them up.

sam walked into the kitchen rubbing his eyes. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!” he jumped at the two of you screaming.

after his scare went away, his eyes lit up like a child at their very own birthday. he rushed over to you thanking the both of you for doing this. he glanced at the cake, “did you make this?”

“with love,” you nodded.

“make a wish, brother,” dean patted his back. sam closed his eyes thinking, he knew exactly what we was going to wish for. he bent down slightly and blew out the candles. you didn’t bother with making breakfast because you knew cake for breakfast would excite anyone.

sam was very giddy to open up his presents. he was ever so thankful for the few new flannels, nice watch, and a new belt you guys gave him.

the three of you sat in the movie room and watched a bunch of old movies. sam has grown very fond of old films. he likes western ones the most.

it was getting late and dean decided that he’d had enough of movies and was feeling sleepy.

now it was just you and sam, on the couch, in the movie room, alone.

the movie was at a slow part, just the main two characters talking in an old western barn.

“did you have a good day?” you turned to sam.

he looks over at you, he loves that smile on your face. “i had probably one of the best days ever. that cake? phenomenal, probably the best thing you’ve baked.”

you blushed and looked down. after a moment of silence you looked up again, sam still looking at you, “what’d you wish for?”

“i cant tell you that,” he chuckled.

“c’mon,” you dragged out.

“no, i can’t!”

“please, for me” queue the big puppy dog eyes.

how could he resist those eyes? “fine, but you can’t get upset.”

why would you get upset?

sams heart is racing. “i wished for you.”

“me?”

“mhm, you.”

“wh- i- why me?”

“because you’re all i’ve ever wanted.”

you were speechless. “sam, i-”

“you don’t have to say anything, it’s okay.”

the saddened look on his face broke you’re heart. “listen to me sam,” you started to smile. “i feel the same way. i mean it when i said that cake was made with love.”

a smile grew on his face. “can i kiss you now?”

it felt like you couldn’t breathe, “yeah,” it came out as a whisper.

sam gently cupped one side of your face as he drew in closer. his lips brushed yours before he fully smashed his lips to yours.

you’ve dreamed on this moment for a while. it was more than you could’ve ever imagined. his lips were soft. he tasted slightly of whiskey that the three of you sipped on earlier and it was perfect.

“my birthday wish finally came true,” sam says just above a whisper.

“good, i’m glad.” you smiled.

the two of you fell asleep on the couch with the old western movie quietly playing in the background. both you and sam fell asleep with a smile on your face in each others arms.

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

[nyxiswrites1200]

Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, Oral sex

An: Hello loves! This is just a small self indulging thought bc I am sick :( I'm still working on requests, I promise 😭

----

"Sammy-" you moan softly as you tug on his hair. Sam grunts in response as he continues lapping at your cunt.

You've been sick for the past two days, all sniffly and tired. Yet, that somehow didn't sedate the arousal you felt for your boyfriend. You were too lazy to indulge in anything though! Sam has been so sweet in bringing you food, your medicine, and cuddling you. How could you ask more of him?

So when Sam noticed the pre-cum in your panties just as he was undressing you for a bath...he came up with an idea.

At first you were reluctant. "Sammyyy you don't have to...I don't wanna gross you out-" you whine as you try to push away his kisses.

Sam couldn't help but give you that shit eating smile. "Sweetie, you could never gross me out. Do you know the shit I've seen?" He chuckles.

You accept his next kiss as you give in to him.

"I've got you...just let me help you forget about being sick for a bit" he reassures as he rubs your sides.

That's how we ended up here.

Sam lazily eating your pussy. He held your thighs in a gentle grasp, his tongue licking at your folds. It was kind of relaxing as much as it was pleasing. He wasn't in a rush or concerned about himself at all, it was just about you. However, that didn't sedate the aching need in his cock. He could live with it as long as you were happy.

You moan out softly, an occasional whimper as well when his mouth graces your clit. His large hands rub small circles on your thighs.

Until he finally tips you over the edge, making your hips twitch up into his face. He doesn't stop you, he lets you twitch and tug at his hair, suffocating him between your thighs for a moment while you rode out your high on his tongue.

Finally, you let him go as he took a breath. He licks your slick from his lips as he kisses your inner thigh.

"Was that enough for you?" He asked softly. When he received a tired nod in response, he carefully picked you up from the bed. He carefully bathed you, making sure to use your favorite scents even if you couldn't fully smell them.

He then tucked you into bed, kissing your forehead. He did have to finish himself off in the bathroom once you were asleep though...

He'd do anything for his sweet girl.

[lokigonnakmsforbucky]

Sam Winchester NSFW Alphabet

I needed some Sam recently so why not an NSFW Alphabet :) enjoy :))

Rating: MINORS DNI 18+

A= Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Sam first thought after sex is you. How you are feeling, are you sore? etc. He is very sweet and makes sure to cuddle you for a little while before cleaning you up and giving you anything you need before even thinking of himself. You come first. Always.

B= Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and their partners)

Even though he might not like to admit it. He is very confident in his body. He is most confident in his hands. Mostly because of how his fingers have an effect on you.

Sam loves everything about you, but if he had to choose he loves the way your hips are curved, so it is easy to grab you ;)

C=CUM (Anything to do with cum basically... I'm a nasty person.)

If you gave him an okay, he would always cum in you. The way it drips out of you turns him on more.

But, if he couldn't that way he loves seeing it on your tits or face.

D=Dirty Secret

Sam loves when he comes down your throat as you give him a blow job.

E= Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they are doing?)

He may not be as experienced as Dean but he is experienced nonetheless. You will know everything about his past before you have had sex for the first time, but let me tell you he definitely leaves you wanting more after every time.

F= Favorite position (Goes without saying)

Missionary- him between your legs, your legs around his waist locked together. Up close and personal. He loves seeing your face full of pleasure.

Doggystyle- Remember when I said he loves holding your hips? He loves this position.

G= Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? or are they humorous)

He is mostly serious. It's a very serious moment of passion and intimacy for both of you.

I= Intimacy (How are things during the moment, romantic aspect.)

His hands never leave your body, he is very handsy and grabby but he always never leaves his lips off your body.

J= Jack off (Masturbation head canon)

It's not often that he does, in the line of work he does. But, when you are separated he may get one or two out of thinking of you. Or even calling you for help ;)

K=Kinks

Sam loves being dominate towards you. Choking you and edging you.

He also has a bit of a breeding kink. Just the thought of you being pregnant with his child makes him more turned on.

L= Location (where you guys would do the deed)

Sam is a very private guy, so any place that is private like his room is ideal.

But, he has taken the impala for a spin...if you know what I mean.

M= Motivation (What turns them on, or gets them going)

When you wear nothing but his shirt and he sees you with a book, immediately turned on.

N= No (Something they wouldn't do, or turns them off)

Anything that would bring you any pain. You are his love and seeing you in pain is his worse nightmare.

O= Oral (Do they like giving, receiving, both?)

Sam is an Oral god...he loves giving it and watching your face come from pleasure and knowing he is the one doing it.

He loves when you give him a blowjob, it gives him another time to relax.

P= Pace (Are they slow? Fast and rough?)

It really depends on the mood. He can certainly go rough and fast but if you requested gentle and slow. You got it.

Q=Quickie (Their opinion on it, how often would they have one)

Sam is a quickies fan even though he doesn't do them often. But, if you and him have time for a quick fix he is all for it.

R-Risk (Are they risky?)

In Sam's line of work, the risk is dangerous. He don't need it in the bedroom.

S=Stamina (How long can you last? How many rounds?)

Sessions with Sam are so hot and heavy, yall be lucky to have three rounds.

T=Toys (Do you guys own toys? Do they use them?)

You guys own a vibrator which is rarely used, You guys both can satisfy with what you get from each other.

U=Unfair (How likely would they tease)

Let's be honest, You would be the one that would that would tease. But, when Sam had enough of the teasing he would definitely let you know.

V= Volume (How loud are they)

Sam doesn't make much noise but expects a lot of heavy breathing. Low growls and grunts.

X=XRay (What's going on down there)

Sam is a big boy, and I don't just mean his height. You can expect that he is bigger than average.

Y=Yearning (How high is their sex drive)

Despite him big majorly quiet and hiding behind a book, Sam's Drive is higher than you would think.

Z=ZZZ. (How fast he would fall asleep)

He would fall asleep a bit after you did.

[missmarveledsblog]

Spellbinding ( sam winchester x reader )

summary : sam being completely in love with reader who happens to be his best friend while on a hunt she is hit with a curse making her needy clingy mess while sam was loving the closeness it was only temporary right?

Warnings : spells and shit , sam being simp (love that for him )

In all his life he never thought he would feel like this , at first he pegged it to being a school boy crush but it only grew . she would be the one to stay up late into the morning researching while his brother just went to the bar or bed calling them " nerds"  . she'd be the one to make sure they got sleep after realising how long they had spent nose deep in their laptops or books . she'd be the one to make sure everyone was taken care of even making sure dean didn't have a diet that consisted of fast food making them home cooked meals in the bunker . she would tease and be playful so it wasn't all work . so it was hard not to fall for her in fact what scared him was how easy it happened. the fact that dean caught on was hell in itself finding new ways to torture his brother with the new found information always pairing the two off together , the little remarks she never noticed and when she did she would brush them off as dean well being dean . hunts we're both a blessing and a curse for him when she was there . he could make sure she was safe but yet her just being there meant she was also in danger , an internal battle on which part to stick with . Like now they were walking through an abandoned asylum after report of many men going mad once they've been in the   place one way or another . now they were walking through the halls , searching for whatever it was or even a clue to what it was . she hated the abandoned hospitals and asylums they had an extra creepy feeling to them . sam knew this main reason he made sure to stay closer then usual which if he was lying he kinda took advantage of it . " ah shit " she huffed . " what , what is it " . " look the symbol we've dealt with this before " she pointed walking into the large open space that used to be a rec room . the symbols spread around the room like she said it was too familiar .

" witches " he mused. " always witches get dean here , he's a lightening rod for curses " she sighed dramatically making him laugh. " what are you doing here , your not welcome " the voice called . " listen lady , neither are you " she turned to see the raven haired woman glaring . " this is my new home and intend to keep it that way " she turned to sam as he raised his gun . he was waiting for it , to be thrown across the room it was all too regular habit but yet all he felt was her pushing him and taking the hit flying across and hitting the wall . " hey darling now that wasn't so nice of you " dean held the woman tight while cas done his thing . " hey sweetheart you ok " he called. " yeah i think so ouch how do you do that sammy " she groaned wiping the dust off of herself . " what the hell were you thinking " he yelled running to check her over. " i was thinking you'd be grateful " she smiled sweetly. " idiot you could of been killed " he chastised missing the way she was looking at him . " hey kid you ok " dean smirked seeing the sudden shift in her demeanour. " so pretty " she cooed all doe eyes and mushy as she stared at her best friend before latching on to his arm . " lets get her out of here " dean snorted seeing his brothers cheeks all flushed while Y/N was clinging to him like he was the light in the dark . " hey how you feeling slugger" dean turned see sam carrying her out on his back like a koala on a tree. " she wanted to be closer because it hurt being so far apart " he groaned. " hey you should be happy hot chick all over you " held the door open so sam could put her in the back . " cas in front "dean's shit eating grin was not helping the situation and neither was the grabby hands she was making .

They found out she was hit with a curse same one those men were hit with except in her case well she was overly clingy only when sam moved away it actually hurt her like a blinding cutting pain ran through her body when they were apart for more than 60 minutes , during the first week they found that out . " a couple of weeks and she will be back to normal she said something else but cas was playing around so we had to leave quick " dean explained while Y/N was now in sams lap almost purring like a kitten nothing like the woman before . " couple of weeks , how the hell am i going to do this for a couple of weeks " sam hissed rubbing her back when she tensed at his words. " enjoy it since your such a bitch and not telling her how you feel when she's,  well not a pussy cat " he chuckled. " do you not like the affection " cas asked confused. " i would if it was of her own accord " sam muttered feeling her head resting on his shoulder after she'd fallen asleep . " i need a shower , a quick one " he said placing her down on the sofa and putting his shit around her. " don't be long i can see her screaming again , it's painful to watch " cas walked out . " i wont , i don't like it either " sam huffed running out the room . he loved it and hated it , he loved the close contact and he affection , but he missed his partner in crime , he miss how she would talk about everything and anything with him , he missed her being his best friend . yet he love having her nuzzled so close he could smell her shampoo , he loved the feeling of her soft skin under his palms. how he could see every detail of her face , how her smiled would widen in his presence . the water cascaded down his body yet the hot water done nothing to soften the stress of the situation he loved and hated all in one . What made it worse she was going through it all because she wanted to save him , wasn't it his job to keep her safe.

"where's sammy " she whined starting to sweat as she felt the tingle beginning. " he'll be back in a minute " dean huffed. he couldn't wait for it to end , the badass smart chick he loved like a sister reduce to a needy airhead , now whining like a kid for candy. " hey how come you never told sam why she so bad " cas asked again his curious nature getting the best. " because even i know the two of them need to say it without the power of a curse and hell he'd probably short circuited. " this hurts " she sniffled but her head shot up feeling his presence near it was like her skin was burning and only he could put it out. " hey i'm back " he smiled weakly feeling her arms wrap around him tightly. " i missed you , it hurt and dean was mean" she pouted . " jesus this hard to even watch " dean rolled his eyes . " well if sam loves her i'm sure it ok " . " sammy only loves me like a friend " she pouted at cas words . " that's what you think but he's in love with you ... ouch " he winced rubbing back of his head . her head shot up and a clearing of a fog sensation. " hey when did we get back here " her voice back to levelness before . " hey sweetness aint you a sight " dean smirked only for her to roll her eyes. " she's back " he cheered. " that could of been the cure , although it's very fairy tale like" cas smiled. " what the baby in the trenchcoat is saying was that you were cursed and been on sammy there like a pimple" dean explained making her realise where her hands were . " oh shit sorry " she back off cheeks flushing at the close proximity . " it's ok really " he smiled sheepishly. " so how did we break it " she asked . " i told you how sam really felt and OWWW " Castiel cried . " hey why you hit him " she ran to the angel checking him over. " oh fuck it, knowing sam loved you like truly loved you broke it , the reason she was so affected is because she loves you too " dean yelled. " do i hit him now " cas whispered . " you love me " they both said at same time . " lets give them some room " dean led castiel out of the room while the two stood stunned at the information. " wait did he just confess for us " she asked dumbfounded. " i think he did " sam stood closer wrapping his arms around her waist. " didn't you get enough " she teased turning to face him fully arms going on his shoulder. " but this time its because i know you love me " he smiled leaning his forehead on hers . " shame it wasn't a kiss breaking curse " . " i think we can change that " she couldn't respond because soon as the words left his mouth he crashed his lips on her. kissing her like she was the only source of oxygen . every part of her being felt alive and awake like never before . they melted together like two missing pieces finally connecting. lost souls lost in the dark finding the light. " i love you so much " he chuckled happy to finally being able to say the words .

"hey thought the curse was broken " bobby asked looking as she sat perched in sam's lap while he was looking through research . " it did " she smiled holding up her book she was using . " they love each other and do sick  sweet shit like this now " dean rolled his eyes . " oh stop being a baby i've seen you cuddle your car " she snorted. " i have too " castiel nodded. " well glad to have you back kid" bobby smiled getting himself a cup of coffee. sam on other hand sat smiling happily now he had the woman he loved back , the one who talked to him constantly , his best friend and now his girlfriend .