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muffinbeliever · 1 year

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Green with Envy

The reader is flirting with a guy for a case, and her boyfriend Dean is not happy about it.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1732

Warnings: SMUT !!!! obv lol, thigh riding, choking, use of sir, degrading, hmmmmm that might be it lol

A/N: hello hello hello my lovelies its kinktober y'all know what that means *wink wonk* please enjoy this little smutty one shot with our favorite daddy dean (except in this he isn't daddy he's sir) this was written for @candy-coated-misery0731 per request

Masterlist

Dean was pissed. He was beyond pissed.

He was absolutely furious.

You could feel his piercing eyes glaring at the back of your head. Twirling your hair in your fingers, you nodded along to whatever the guy in front of you was saying, throwing in a flirtatious giggle every now and then just to add to your performance. Internally, you huffed at your boyfriend’s obvious annoyance.

It wasn’t like you wanted to talk to this guy— he was over-confident and loud— you just had to distract him long enough for Sam and Dean to grill his friend about the recent deaths in town. But seeing how Dean was standing in the corner, gritting his teeth, you assumed the brothers determined only one of them would be needed for the job.

The man across from you (you couldn’t recall his name… was it Jackson? Jasper? Whatever.) placed his hand on your arm, and you realized you had zoned out.

“Did you hear what I said?” He asked. His breath reeked of alcohol, and you wanted to cringe away from his touch, but you had a job to do. You swallowed your disgust and flashed him a sultry smile.

“Sorry, I was focused on your arms. Do you work out?” You feigned interest as you placed your hand on his bicep, and he smirked while flexing.

“Yeah, I lift,” he said, smugly. He glanced at your empty glass sitting on the bar and frowned. “Another round?”

You shook your head.

“No thanks, I have work in the morning,” you said, politely hinting that you wouldn’t be spending the night with him like he had hoped.

“Oh come on! Just one more drink wouldn’t hurt,” he encouraged, and with a sigh you caved, figuring that if you’re going to be stuck with him for God-knows-how-much longer, at least you’d get a free drink out of it.

“Alright, sure,” you agreed, resigned to your duty of the night.

As he hailed down the bartender, your eyes swept through the room, finding your boyfriend still brooding in the same corner. His eyebrows were tightly knit and his lips were slightly pursed. His arms were crossed over his chest; his arm muscles bulging in his black t-shirt without even trying. His dark green eyes met yours from across the bar, and you flashed him a smile. He raised a single eyebrow in return.

You knew that look.

You were fucked.

The bartender slid you a glass filled with amber liquid, presumably whiskey, but you weren’t sure. You thanked him and threw it back, knowing you’ll need it later when your jealous boyfriend decided to confront you.

The man across from you laughed and saluted you with a cheers before throwing his glass back as well. Suddenly, he was a lot closer than before, and you stood in shock as he reached out his hand, placing it on your cheek, and wiped at your bottom lip. You jerked from his touch, not at all pleased with his straightforward style.

“You had some whiskey on your lip,” he explained before he leaned in closer. “Would you have preferred I kiss it away, instead?”

Before you could say anything, you felt a firm hand clasp your shoulder and you were pulled away from the man in front of you and straight in to the familiar broad chest of your boyfriend.

“H-hey!” The man sputtered, confused as to what had just happened.

Dean ignored him and held your hand tightly in his.

“Y/N, we’re leaving,” he said quietly but firmly in your ear. His low voice was laced with anger and jealousy, and you hated to admit that it turned you on. Whether it was the liquor you practically inhaled or the dark promise of what was to come, you fluttered your eyelashes at him.

“But I was having fun,” you said with a pout. “And Sam isn’t even done!”

His eyes hardened even more at your disobedience, and he spun you towards the door.

“Let’s go. Now.”

With a dramatic sigh, you waved at What’s-His-Face, and he waved back, perplexed. You led the way out of the bar, Dean’s steady hand against your lower back.

The cool breeze hit you like a breath of fresh air, but you had no time to appreciate it, as Dean was already opening the passenger door to Baby, and you got in without argument. Without a word, he started the car and backed out of the driveway. His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, not quite speeding back to the motel, but definitely making a hasty exit.

“What about Sam?” You asked, sighing when your boyfriend clenched his jaw and kept his eyes on the road, ignoring your question. “Dean, look I—”

“Be quiet.”

His words were soft but demanding, and you couldn’t help the rush of excitement that swept through your body. You did as you were told and crossed your legs to provide some friction to your heated core. The last time Dean was this upset, he had spanked you so hard that you had bruises on your ass for a week. You watched as the night scenery flashed by, hyperaware of the rumbling vibrations of Baby’s engine that seemed to send sparks through you with every bump in the road.

He sharply pulled the car into the parking lot and you were quick to unbuckle your seatbelt. Dean, on the other hand, took his time, making you impatient for what was to come, but you knew better than to complain, so you kept your mouth shut and waited for him to guide you.

He got out of the car first, before making his way to your side where he stiffly opened the door. Ever the gentleman, he offered you his hand, and you took it, climbing out of the car.

It was silent as you entered your room, and you were thankful for Dean’s foresight of getting a separate room from Sam this time. You placed your bag on the bed, and Dean took a seat on the armchair facing you. His legs were spread and he looked leisurely, like a king, but you were not fooled. There was anger brewing in his eyes.

“Strip.”

This time, you knew better than to argue. You started with your top, crossing your arms over your body before slowly pulling it off. Your breasts bouncing as they were released. You unbuttoned your jeans before shimmying them down your legs. You hooked your thumbs in the waistband of your thong, and slowly pulled it down, turning around and bending over as you did.

Before long, you were fully naked, and Dean drank your body in with hungry eyes. He shifted in the chair, and you noticed his pants were tented where he had grown hard watching you strip. Without another word, he spread his legs even more and patted his leg. Understanding his request, you sat on him, your legs on either side as you straddled his thigh.

His leg was thick and hard under you, and you couldn’t help but press down further, creating friction between your clit and his jeans. His arm shot out and his hands wrapped around your throat, restricting you from grinding against him anymore.

“Did I say you could move?” His voice was low. Menacing.

“No,” you whimpered quietly, shaking your head. He tilted his head and tightened his grip around your throat.

“No, what?”

“No, sir,” you choked out. His tight hold relaxed slightly, and you inhaled deeply.

“I’m not happy with you, Y/N,” he stated simply.

“I know.” Your voice was shaky, partly from his grip and partly from your bubbling excitement.

“You know, do you? And what exactly do you know?”

“I shouldn’t have been teasing you like that, sir. I’m sorry.”

He chuckled darkly, and his other hand came to rest on your waist, shuffling you around, knowing it only made you more desperate.

“Teasing me? You think this is about you teasing me?”

You nodded quickly, causing him to chuckle more.

“This is about you parading yourself around the bar. Acting like a slut,” he hissed, pulling you closer towards him to whisper in your ear.

“Like you aren’t mine.”

You could feel yourself getting wetter with every word, whimpering from his intoxicating smell and touch that surrounded you.

“Tell me, Y/N, did you like when he touched your arm? And when he touched your lips that are only meant to be wrapped around my cock?” His thumb traced your bottom lip with a soft reverence that contrasted with his anger and rage. His hand tightened around your throat once again.

“Answer me.”

Immediately, you shook your head. You hadn’t enjoyed it. Not one bit.

“No, sir.”

He slowly began to rock your hips against his thigh, pulling you flush against the denim so you could feel the rough fabric.

“No? And why should I believe a whore like you?” He muttered into your hair as you ground your hips against him faster, whining and closing your eyes as you felt sparks in your toes moving up towards your core. Suddenly, you were stilled, and your eyes shot open.

“I asked you a question. You seem to be having trouble answering those tonight.”

Still dazed, you shook your head. “Yours. I’m only yours, sir. No one else’s.”

“Only mine?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Prove it.”

And with that, he sat you back down on his thigh. His large hand that was still wrapped around your throat tightened again, and you moaned as you rode him. Your hands gripped the arm of the chair and his thigh, steading yourself. You ground your hips against him and the room filled with your moans and whimpers.

“That’s a good girl. Wanting to prove to me that you’re my whore, and my whore only.”

You gasped when a sharp smack was delivered to your ass, speeding up your pace as waves of pleasure rolled through you, faster and faster, until you reached your peak, your body shuddering against his as you came with a wail.

Spent, you slumped against his clothed form, a slight sheen of sweat covering your body. He placed a kiss on your forehead, and you mumbled nonsense tiredly into the cotton of his shirt. He chuckled at your tiredness.

“You’re not getting out of this so easily, sweetheart. We’re not finished yet.”

Taglist: @akshi8278 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @lanea-1 @slamminmine @bluedragonflylady @cevans-winchester @bakugouswh0r3 @muhahaha303 @allaroundjejje

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #reader insert #reader x dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester oneshot #supernatural #supernatural oneshot #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #thigh riding lol #muffinbeliever

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mlmxreader · 4 months

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You're The Only Hell Your Mama Ever Raised | Dean Winchester x m!reader [NSFW/MDNI]

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ You're The Only Hell Your Mama Ever Raised, Warrant with dean Winchester please? ❞

: ̗̀➛ After ten years of living with Bobby, you decided to join the Winchester brothers with hunting; four years later, things between you and Dean start to get a little more complicated than just hunting partners.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ alcohol consumption, praise kink, swearing, blowjobs, cum swallowing

↳ word count: 1545

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

It was such a vivid memory that you could hear Bobby talking in the twilight hours of the night, hushed tone and grumbling with every other sentence, almost as if he had ever regretted taking you under his wing the same way that Rufus had; they were the closest thing that you had to parents, and with Rufus halfway across the country working on a case, it was down to Bobby to keep an eye on you.

But you couldn’t tell who he was talking to, you couldn’t hear who was on the other send of that fucking phone, but you figured that it was likely to be either Rufus or John Winchester - an old friend of his who had a little bit of trouble with his own boys, the youngest of which was the same age as you.

“It’s time that boy was shippin’ out,” Bobby grumbled, and you knew without seeing him that he was shaking his head and stressing himself out. “And I mean come hell or high water. He’s old enough now, he should be in his own home with a good damn job. Not still bouncing between my place and Rufus’ place… set him up with Dean and Sam? Are you stupid? He isn’t a hunter!”

You waited for the inevitable as you scratched the side of your neck and chewed at the inside of your lip, not really sure how to react to such a suggestion yourself; you had known Dean and Sam since you were kids, but it was different now you were all grown up.

You hadn’t seen them for years, and there was no doubt in your mind that they had changed a lot more than you ever did.

“He smokes and spits and drinks and fights, sure,” Bobby scoffed. “But that’s on me - I let him get away with it and don’t tell him off properly… yeah, no, no, his friends do all look like trouble - but I wouldn’t expect anythin’ less… no, he sleeps pretty much all day and he’s never around at night - you’d think he was a vamp til you saw his teeth… I just… where’s the boy I used to cuddle? He was so little, and such a nice kid… where’d I go wrong?”

You wanted to go down and reassure him that it wasn’t his fault how you turned out; Bobby and Rufus did everything for you, they never gave up on you no matter what you were like.

You could understand why he was so frustrated, but you didn’t want him to sit there blaming himself at all. So, you crept down to where he was in the kitchen, and waited for him to hang up before you hugged him tightly and shook your head.

“You didn’t go wrong with me anywhere, Bobby,” you murmured to him. “You and Rufus are the best dads a guy could ask for.”

Bobby sighed heavily, although he couldn’t help but to hug you back as he frowned. “Ten good years you’ve been with me, kid - and it’s like suddenly I don’t know you no more.”

You pulled away and cleared your throat, nodding slowly. “I’ll go find the Winchester boys. They’ll put me on the right track, don’t worry.”

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Four years, you had been on the road with Sam and Dean, now; you checked in with Bobby and Rufus as often as you could and went to visit whenever you got the chance, but you were happy with the boys in all honesty.

But it was a slow night tonight, on the way to the next town hoping that there would be a case, you and Dean were forced to share a room, as there were only two left in the motel and Sam was… preoccupied with someone who worked at a local pub.

“You’re not the only hell Bobby ever raised, y’know,” Dean chuckled, shaknig his head as he took a long swig from his bottle of beer.

You shrugged as you hummed softly, nursing your glass of vodka as if it would last all night. “Yeah, Rufus tried to tell me that - but you know me, I only ever do things that my way… and to think, Bobby thought I was a good boy just goin’ through some phase.”

He grinned, doing his best not to laugh as he quirked a brow. “You? Good?”

“You can’t say much anyway,” you mused. “You’re the only hell your mama ever raised.”

He nodded, pursing his lips slightly as he struggled to hold back the laugh. “Maybe so, but at least I didn’t try and pretend to be good.”

You shook your head as you licked your lips, quirking a brow. “Remember when your dad used to dump you at Bobby’s and we’d sneak out all the time?”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were always doing it so I went along - it was only fair,” he pointed out. “But you know how it went down when Dad found out I snuck out… wouldn’t let me have no fun.”

“Don’t worry,” you told him. “Two more years to make it sixteen, then you’ll see - we’ll both have changed our ways.”

Dean put his beer bottle down, crossing the room as he raked his eyes over you, swallowing thickly before dropping to his knees between your legs. “Well, if we only got two more years to make some trouble… why don’t we raise a little hell ourselves?”

You started to chew at the inside of your lip, breath hitching in your throat as you looked down at him and noticed that sparkle in his green eyes; you nodded, which only earned you a playful smack to the side of the knee.

“C’mon, be a good boy and don’t act coy,” Dean told you softly. “Tell me.”

You nodded again, clearing your throat and almost gulping. “I’m sure we can raise a little hell.”

Slowly, he ran his hands up your legs, settling his fingers between them so that he could feel the outline of your cock; gently and carefully, he started to palm it through the dense and coarse fabric. “This okay?”

You stifled a moan as you nodded. “Y-yessir.”

He grinned. “I like that. You want me to keep goin’?”

You couldn’t even stifle your moan anymore, letting it out with a shuddering breath as you raised your hips a little and practically squeaked out for his touch; Dean helped you slowly, pulling your jeans and boxers down to your ankles before wrapping his hand around your cock and giving it a few firm pumps.

With great control, Dean slowly licked a stripe from the base to the tip and hummed softly.

“Don’t stop,” you groaned out softly, and when he finally took you into his mouth, you felt like that was it.

Fuck raising hell, you never wanted the sensation to end; his mouth was so warm and wet, his tongue worked you so expertly and when he used one hand to massage your balls and the other to wrap around your cock and stroke it - fuck.

You didn’t want anything else in the world. Your hand managed to find its way into his hair, tugging at the short brown strands softly as you tilted your head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment before closing your eyes tightly shut.

Letting yourself drown in the feeling of his mouth around you. The soft sounds of his mouth as he took every inch of you one bit at a time; his eyes closed as he focused on nothing but making sure that you felt as good as possible.

Even the soft little moans he made around your cock only spurred you on more and more as your breathing grew more ragged and harsh by the second, doing your best not to buck your hips and fuck his mouth as hard and fast as you could.

But fuck, when he started to twist his hand a little bit, you were nearly completely over the fucking edge.

Dean’s movements picked up as he realised how close you were getting, almost desperate to taste your cum in his mouth; his spit and your precum mixing so that his mouth squelched a little around you; you could already feel it coming, your toes beginning to curl in your shoes as you heard him gag and grunt around you.

Your grip on his hair grew tighter as you gently bucked your hips against him, needing nothing more than to know what it felt like to cum in that pretty and smart mouth of his. You buckled, thighs shaking as you yanked at his hair one last time and, without warning, finally came.

To his credit, Dean didn’t stop, still sucking and licking your cock until it was perfectly clean, a long trail of spit from his mouth when he pulled away at last, looking up at you with a massive fucking grin.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, wiping sweat from your forehead as you realised just how fucking weak you were from your own orgasm. “You weren’t kidding about raising hell, huh?”

Dean shook his head as he laughed softly. “Nope… but if you wanna, we can keep goin’, maybe see just how far we can get until the morning.”

if you made it to the end of this fic and you enjoyed it, then please, if you have any cash to spare even if it's £1, then please consider making a donation to help Tahani to save her family. Please, every little contribution does genuinely help!

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random-imagines-blog · 4 months

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One Thousand Cheers {Dean Winchester x Female!Reader}

Wordcount: 2669 Requested by: @ab1nsur Summary: While hunting demons on the beach, you get caught up in a rather revealing contest. Warnings: Swearing, Spring Break chaos, A touch of non-consensual touching, demon mischief.

Demons on a beach during Spring Break. This felt like some sort of teen romance novel, and you could see the cover now - some red painted muscular guy holding some lusty teenager, the sunset behind them. Course, demons never actually looked like that. The ones you were looking for blended in well enough, looking like bikini-clad twenty-year olds who were looking for a hookup, rather than for souls. “Ever feel like you’re too old for this crap?” You asked Dean, standing up on a bench to try to look over the crowds for your demons, or for anyone who looked like they were being lured away. “Spring Break - what I wouldn’t give for a week off to feel like a stupid kid again.”

“This is your idea of a fun Spring Break?” Dean said, his eyes too busy scoping out the beach, and making sure that his Revolver was tucked away inside of his jacket. He’s the one that stood out for wearing one, in this almost 90-degree weather. The sun going down didn’t cool anything any. “My break was another hunt, and I’d be lucky if it wasn’t somewhere that was raining all the time.”

“I think that’s why you are the way you are. You didn’t get to party enough,” You chuckled. “Didn’t get to raise a little hell like these idiots.”

“Yeah, that’s my problem alright. Didn’t party enough,” Dean grunted. Then his eyes seemed to catch on something, much like how a cat will suddenly spot a squirrel and look ready to pounce. “To the left.”

“I see one to the right,” You whispered back. “Split up?”

“Going to have to,” Dean said. “We’ll meet back up over there.”

He motioned his head to one of the larger stages that seemed like it was preparing for a Wet T-Shirt Contest. You rolled your eyes at him. Of course, that’s where he would want to end up. “Alright, but only because it’s a good central location. Not because I wanna watch you get an eyeful.”

Before he could come up with a witty retort, you were off the bench and walking among the people. In your jeans and white t-shirt, you didn’t exactly fit in with them either, but at least you weren’t wearing a heavy jacket. Your own weapon, your knife, was tucked into a holster attached to your leg, and your fingers brushed against the hilt with every step that you took towards the woman who had flashed her black eyes at you. It was tough to maneuver through the crowd, tall men often standing in the way of your line of your vision, a couple of them playfully trying to touch you. You slapped their hands away and carried on, too focused on the mission to give them a piece of your mind. Otherwise, you would have picked them apart and left them absolutely decimated with only your words.

There she was. A fucking stunner. The vessel must have been a supermodel or something because this demon was getting a lot of attention, exactly like it wanted. It had it’s pick of tall, muscular, college-age men who didn’t actually think much about their future and would make a deal for something as stupid as money. Bargain away their soul for a couple of fun weekends in Cancun or something similar.

Going up and incapacitating it wasn’t an option, not with so many witnesses. There was no way you were going to be able to form a salt circle around it with all of these people around, it would get trodden on, if it didn’t immediately mix with the sand. But you couldn’t let it just take these men away either. If you could save their souls, best bet you were going to try.

“Hey, you,” You called out, jogging a little closer, running the back of your hand against your forehead where sweat was starting to gather and drip into your eyes. All the attention turned to you in that moment, and the demon knew that it had the advantage here. Its smirk made you want to rage. You had to use some quick thinking to get these men away.

“Can I help you?” It said, in a sickly-sweet voice. The fucking confidence in these demons - must be a younger one.

“You’re the bitch who gave my brother herpes, aren’t you?” You said, your mind flashing to Gabriel of all people, and the trick that he had pulled on Sam, making him pretend he was in a commercial for Herpexia. “Yeah, I remember you. Now I know my brother is too chickenshit to say anything, but I will.” You put your hands around your mouth to mime a loudspeaker of some kind, getting more people to look. “THIS CHICK HAS HERPES. DON’T SHARE A DRINK WITH HER OR SLEEP WITH HER. SHE WON’T EVEN CALL YOU AFTER ANYWAY!”

The demon growled, a touch of its true nature showing, the eyes darkening as the guys around her started to subtly walk away, deciding that it just was not worth it. So at least one part of your idea was coming to fruition.

“You play dirty,” she said, her head tilting menacingly towards you. The eyes were so focused on yours. You stepped in a little closer, your hand closing around the hilt of your weapon as a little room was made by the absence of her suitors.

“Yeah, I was inspired by a tricky angel, what can I say?” You said, your own gaze glaring. “What happened to just hanging around crossroads, huh? Surely that has more dignity than picking up these scraps.”

“Dignity? Now - you’re one to talk,” The demon said, the smirk growing on her painted red lips, which perfectly matched the bikini that she was wearing. Her hands were on her hips. She knew there were still too many people for me to do anything drastic, like go charging. “Always hanging around the Winchesters. Clinging onto Dean.”

“I don’t cling,” You scoffed. “I said, actually. It’s something that friends do. Which you wouldn’t know, because demons don’t really have friends, do they? You’re not the most likeable sort.”

“Friends?” The demon said, chuckling, which got on your nerves. “Come on, y/n. Even from down below we can see how bad you have it for Dream-Boy Dean. Which is why you cling.”

“I think this part, right here, this is why you guys have a bad rep. The deals, the hellhounds, the annoying possessions, they’re all bad, but this right here? This is why you’re never going to have friends,” You glared, feeling yourself getting riled up. Which of course is what they wanted.

“We take bets down there, on how hurt you’re going to be when he turns you down,” The demon-woman giggled. “I bet a hundred souls that you’re going to call on one of us. Make a little deal so that he’ll love you the same way that you love him.”

"This isn’t going to stop me from killing you, you know. Actually, it’s making me want to do it more. And then you can go back down to hell and pass on the message that all of you are going to lose your money, nobody wins. You’re all just - so damn wrong.”

Your stomach was churning inside of you. The anger was making you start to become careless, but it wasn’t just the words that she was saying which were pissing you off. It was the fact that she had a goddamn point. OF COURSE you clung onto Dean Winchester. Has anyone seen him? He’s one of the most handsome men in the world, women and some men everywhere fell for him. And you had the pleasure of getting to know him, which made your admiration worse. He was a badass, he was confident, he was funny, he had this bad boy look down pat. But of one thing you were absolutely sure. You would never, ever be stupid enough to make a deal with a demon. Not for love, not for power, not for anything. If you ended up ever confessing your feelings to Dean, and he didn’t feel the same - that was that. You already prepared yourself for it.

“So do it,” The demon-woman said. “Kill me. But you know I’ll be back. That’s the thing that you really should hate about us demons. We always come back.”

“Yeah, it’s really annoying,” You had to admit. Your hand fastened around the hilt of your knife. “And it makes prison sound pretty damn worth it.”

She backed up, turned around and started to run, weaving through bodies. It appeared to be more of a dance than anything else, with her bare feet against the sand. You found it a little harder, running in your sneakers. The constant dipping into other people’s deeper footprints made your thighs burn as you kept moving. You wanted to have your knife in your hands but considering how many people were around, how there could be accidents, it wasn’t the smart thing to do. So, you were stuck just following, hoping to tackle. No, praying to all the angels that you knew that she would get hit with one of those giant beachballs that people were throwing around, so you could drag her out of there easier.

Dodge and weave. The people were growing closer and closer together. You were having to use your elbows. With the congestion, you felt like you were a piece of floss, struggling to get between teeth. You kept getting sprayed with something, water probably. No, ugh, it smelt like beer. Someone was actually shaking up their beer and then pouring out the foam over people.

You wrinkled your nose, wiping it away from your eyes before it could get into them, and then looked around again. You had totally lost her. There were other girls around in red bikinis but none of them had her face. You pushed more and more - until you found yourself being against a stage. Two arms came down and grabbed onto yours, pulling you up, confusing you further.

“And we have our last volunteer for the wet t-shirt contest!” An emcee said, different colored spotlights dancing around your body. “What’s your name, jeans?”

There were cheers coming from the crowd that you had just elbowed your way through. Your mouth went dry as you realized that everyone was now looking at you. You turned your eyes to the DJ booth where a man that looked like he was out of an LMFAO music video was standing, mic pointed out towards you.

“Y/N,” you said, loudly.

“Y/N! Come and stand with the other contestants, you all know how this goes don’t you?”

While he explained the rules of this stupid contest that you now couldn’t get out of, since everyone was looking over at you, you looked through the crowd. Your eyes first landed on the demon, who was smirking at you from amongst the crowd. Her ruby red lipstick made her look all the smugger and you shook your head at her, mentally threatening to make her exorcism as painful as possible. The next pair of eyes that you caught were green, and boy, were they wide.

Dean Winchester could be a bit of a gambling man, often with his life, but he would have never bet that he would see you be a part of a wet t-shirt contest.

One by one, the girls in your lineup had buckets of water poured over them. Your heart was pounding when your turn was coming up. You weren’t dressed like these other girls. You didn’t have on a skimpy bikini top. Hell, it looked like the girl two down from you wasn’t wearing a bra at all. She looked like Jennifer Aniston in Friends. You looked down to make sure that you were wearing one, and yes, thank Chuck you were, and it wasn’t one of your bad laundry-day bras either.

A gasp came out of you as a bucket full of COLD water was poured over your head. It was freezing absolutely freezing, and made you feel chilled down to the bone. But it had the effect that they wanted. Your white t-shirt was now drenched, and clinging onto your body, the way that the demon claimed you clung onto Dean. The cold had the effect on your body of making your nipples harden and start to point out of the thin fabric of your bra. The crowd in front of you went wild, a hundred, a thousand cheers coming out from them as they clapped for your body.

You warmed up pretty quick from how flustered you were feeling. Your eyes were still stuck on Dean’s as his trailed down your body, taking in the sight of you. It wasn’t the most exposed that you had been, since he had given you a hand with stitches on your abdomen before, but it was all about context. This wasn’t seeing you because he was helping. This was him seeing you because you somehow got put into a contest meant to give straight men and lesbians material for their spankbank.

And even though you hadn’t wanted to enter - you got in second.

And a bonus of a 100-dollar cash prize.

That part wasn’t so bad.

You took it without any pomp, just accepted the bill out of the emcee’s hand and hopped off the back of the stage with the intention of circling back around and trying to avoid the mass of people. Music was playing louder now that the contest was over. Free drink tickets were being thrown out from the stage. People were being pulled up to dance. It was basically a stampede over there, and you had to finally resign yourself to the fact that if the demon was in there, she was out of your reach.

You saw Dean exiting the crowd out of the corner of your eye and walked in his direction, pulling the shirt away from your skin, though once you let go, it immediately clung right back with a sick squelching sound. You crossed your arms in front of yourself instead, protecting what little modesty that you had left.

“Not a word, Winchester,” You warned him. He put his hands up innocently, though you knew that he had something on the tip of his tongue that he wanted to say.

You watched him as he took his heavy jacket off and he put it around your shoulders. You weren’t cold any longer, but you did take the opportunity to cover up, muttering a thank you as you crossed your arms in front of yourself to hide your wet t-shirt from view. “Can’t complain about a hundred bucks though,” he said, with a corny smile.

“I can complain that the demon bitch got away. I swear, she did that on purpose. Lead me to the stage so that I would get picked. Crowley is probably down there, laughing his ass off, knowing that his demon did this.”

“We’ll find them,” Dean said, resolutely. “- after you buy me an overpriced beer. You can afford it.”

You nudged him with the new weight of the jacket, making him chuckle. It was a welcome sound, after being humiliated and disappointed. “Fine, fine. One beer - but we’re looking for these hellspawns while we drink, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, gruffly. “We’ll squish these cockroaches.”

You nodded and he put his arm around your shoulders, leading you towards one of the makeshift bars on the beach, selling beer at three times the price of what they should be. Your heart was beating quickly again inside of your chest as you were pulled in close to him, the smell of his leather surrounding you. Your words flickered back to what the demoness had said - you clung to him. But right now, it almost looked like ...

He was clinging to you.

#Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester oneshot #Supernatural #Supernatural oneshot #x reader #imagines #deanw

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arjwrites · 3 months

Note

Hi there! Found your account through a moot and wanted to maybe request a Sam x nephilim!reader where he finds out that she had been keeping that she was a nephilim a secret to try and protect him, but the truth comes out when they're on a hunt together? Maybe with established relationship?

Heaven Hellbent- Sam Winchester x Nephilim!Reader

Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, Sam discovers a secret you've been keeping for years. Part 1 of the series!

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: F!reader! Canon-level violence and language!

A/N: THANKS SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE ON THIS! I literally loved this request so much but really desperately wanted to do it justice, so it took me a little while. Seriously, this was one of my most re-written fics so far. I really wanted to finally get something out to you, but I have a lot more to write on this topic so I AM MAKING IT A SERIES!! This is a bit out of canon context but I really really hope you still enjoy, thank you again for such an amazing prompt and for your patience!

Ever since you had come into Sam's life, things felt lighter. You were this warm, radiating presence that had wrapped itself around every facet of his life. Sometimes, when you lay together late at night, when he would trace your body with his fingers and plant soft kisses on your forehead, he would silently pray- he still did that from time to time- addressing God, fate, the universe, or sometimes simply to whom it may concern, thanking anyone he could for the miracle of you.

You were one of the most skilled hunters Sam had ever encountered. It felt like even having your presence on a hunt was an asset- when you were around, cases were solved quicker, monsters went down easier, and everyone walked away with far fewer injuries. He expressed this to you once, in your early years together.

“It just feels like everything clicks when you’re around. How is it that you make everything so easy?” He had asked you, eyes so full of admiration and innocence. Sweet, clueless Sammy.

“Hmm, I must be a pretty serious good luck charm then, sweetheart. Better keep me around,” you had purred, eliminating the space that separated you in a sensual attempt to change the subject.

Sam chuckled. “I like to think of you as our little guardian angel. My little angel.” Sam ducked down, meeting your lips with a soft, open-mouthed kiss, but not before his words sent a pang of anxiety through your body. It took a moment for you to reciprocate Sam’s kiss- you had to focus all your energy on keeping the lump that had formed in your throat from spilling to the surface.

Hiding your true identity from Sam was the hardest thing you had ever done, and yet the easiest choice you had ever made. You had been with him for years and had watched him and Dean go through so many horrible things. There were so many times you had wished you could step in- so many nightmares that could have been avoided if you had used your powers. But being a nephilim, you couldn’t. Because if you had, you would’ve had Heaven hellbent on your trail. And not just yours- anyone you had ever known or loved. Just the knowledge of your existence was a ticking time bomb, and the last thing you wanted to do was put yet another target on either Winchester’s back.

It wasn’t without hard work that you had gone unnoticed this long. Keeping under the radar had been much easier before you had met Sam. You had spent more years than you could count traveling, reading, learning, anything to fill your seemingly endless time. You didn’t use your powers, didn’t meddle in matters of Heaven or Hell, you just kept a low profile. That was, until you crossed paths with two of the highest profiles out there- Sam and Dean Winchester.

Falling in love with Sam was the last thing you had ever planned to do. But the more time you spent with him, the more you were drawn to him. You marveled at the fact that anyone could meet him and not fall in love- a man so inherently good, so kind, practically an angel in his own right. Sometimes, it felt as though there were three forces that worked to keep you alive- your soul, your grace, and your love for Sam Winchester, all three intertwined, braided together to tether you to the Earth.

So you stayed. You fought alongside Sam and Dean through every battle they faced. You did everything you could, finding ways to use your powers that would go undetected- by heaven and by the Winchesters. You could weaken demons and cast protection towards the boys, speed their healing subtly so that they wouldn’t notice. But there would be times when it would be far too dangerous to even let a glimpse of your powers show. Those were times that you would watch in agony as the man you loved faced horrors beyond your imagination. And those were the times you swore to protect him whenever you possibly could.

Sometimes, however, things wouldn’t go to plan. You and the Winchesters were hunting a demon that had been causing trouble in a nearby town. Dean had suggested the three of you split up to try to catch the demon by surprise. You had protested, but the moment he barked the order, him and Sam had split, leaving you behind. You cursed to yourself, silently willing that you would find the demon first so you could smite him with ease and not risk either brother’s safety.

Unfortunately, it hadn’t quite worked out that way. It had been well over an hour with no luck as you searched the stretch of abandoned warehouses. And neither you nor Dean could reach Sam’s phone. Fear set into your heart, a cocktail of worry and grace coursing through your veins. Your whole body was buzzing- normally, you would stop to calm it to avoid revealing yourself, but a horrible intuition left you no choice but to use it as fuel.

Meanwhile, Sam’s eyes blinked open, the dull pain in his head sharpening as he regained contact with his senses. There was a rope tied around him, anchoring him to a rickety chair and rubbing abrasively against his biceps.

“Sam Winchester. Good to see ya, champ. Rare to find you without your partner in crime these days.” Blinking back the spots in his vision, Sam’s eyes focused on the man in front of him- scratch that, the demon, as revealed by a quick flash of black.

Sam, struggling against his restraints, retorted. “Dean will be here-”

“Who said anything about Dean?” The demon cut him off, cocking his head. “I’m talking about your other little… friend. How’s it been, running all around town with that pet abomination of yours?” His smile was sickening, and there was something sinister about his words. He knew something Sam didn’t, and that was never a good thing.

“What are you talking about,” Sam hissed through clenched teeth.

“Nice try, Sam. Better get talking.” The demon sent Sam’s chair flying back into the wall to punctuate his command.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” The demon pulled Sam’s chair back to him.

“Oh, you really don’t know? Scout’s honor?” He paced a lap around Sam, lurking over him as spite radiated off his every stride. “That crafty little bitch. That’s too bad, I was hoping to ask you a few questions… I guess I have no use for you, but why not break the news before I kill you? Secrets don’t make friends, right?” He knelt, drawing himself eye to eye with Sam, before practically spitting the words. “That pretty little girlfriend of yours is really a-”

Before the demon could finish the thought, he was flat against the wall and screaming his way back to Hell. Sam, still tied to the chair, had a view limited to the empty room in front of him and the vessel the demon once possessed, now slumped in a pile on the floor. He released a breath, having watched the danger dissipate, before tensing back up. Whatever was behind him was powerful. He could feel every hair standing up on the back of his neck as his pulse began to pick up rapidly. Something was screaming inside him, begging him to get out, get away.

“Oh, Sammy. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” called the creature from behind him. The words hung heavy in the air, tinged with heartbreak. Sam froze. He knew the origin of the voice, but it couldn’t be. He whispered your name and you came running.

“Sam, sweetheart. Are you okay?” You knelt to the floor in front of him, unsheathing your knife to cut away his binds.

Sam simply stared in response, mouth slightly agape and confusion nestling into his furrowed brow. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“Cat’s out of the bag, I guess. I’m sorry. I really didn’t want it to happen this way.” Guilt weighed heavy on you, as if you had done something horribly wrong. No, it was always to keep him safe, you reminded yourself.

Sam sat dumbfounded a moment longer. “What are you?” he finally coughed out. It was as if asking the question had triggered his brain to process the situation, and he tensed in preemptive self-defense.

This was it. No going back now. “I’m a nephilim, Sam.” Saying the words out loud felt like lifting the world off your own shoulders and watching it crash down all around you.

Your confession melted Sam’s expression into a series of reactions. You watched him work through the idea as if he was tossing your heart back and forth in his hands, weighing its pros and cons.

“Please tell me you understand why I didn’t tell you, Sam. Why I couldn’t-”

Sam’s tone was tense- his lack of reaction almost made things worse. “There’s no way you didn’t tell me about this. I’ve- we’ve known you for-”

“For years, Sam! Before you knew there were even angels, before Dean went to Hell, before you had any idea about the bigger picture! That just goes to show you, Sam- I’m not part of any of this! I’ve kept my head down for thousands of years, not raising any flags or drawing any attention to myself. And then I met you- I met you and I had to love you, Sam, I had to. And then I had to watch you go through so much pain and suffering and all I wanted to do was help however I could but I-”

“But you couldn’t. Because it would put you in danger.” If Sam had landed on a stance, you sure couldn’t decipher it. His voice was soft and gentle, but his jaw flexed and his expression narrowed.

“It would put you in danger too, Sam. And Dean. And everyone else.” Your response was quick, calculated. You had played this conversation out too many times in your head. Except you never had thought very far beyond the why didn’t you tell me and into the well what the hell do we do now?

There was silence for a beat.

“The demon knew.” Sam spoke somberly, like he was hand-delivering you a death sentence.

“And now you know,” you contended, defeated. A heartbroken breath wracked through your body, shuddering out of your lungs as you stabilized yourself to avoid teetering over. It was like the wind had been knocked out of you- like you and the man you loved most in the whole world had been plucked from safety and tossed out into open season.

“So what does this mean?” Sam’s tone sat on the fence between concern for your apparent emotions and the fear and confusion that had characterized the rest of your exchange.

“It means you can’t tell a soul, Sam. Not Dean, not anyone. Anyone who knows is at risk. And it means I… should probably leave.” Your stomach churned as you spoke. All of your worst fears were materializing in front of you. Try as you might, even your powers couldn’t zap them away. Your eyes rose to meet Sam’s, and finally, you could read his expression with clarity.

“No,” Sam shook his head.

“Sam, I can’t put you in danger-”

“And I can’t lose you!” You recoiled at his outburst. “I can’t lose you.” The second utterance was softer, bearing a greater resemblance to the sweet words Sam often shared with you.

“Sam, if anyone finds out…” you pleaded. As much as it broke your heart, you couldn’t bear to put Sam in any more danger.

“They won’t. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.” Sam’s gaze was intense as he studied you. It was as if he was learning you all over again- like you were someone brand new to him. And yet, you could still see the love in his eyes. You were still you, after all. This was just a new layer of you. Sam had promised to love you, all of you. And if nothing else, he was a man of his word. He lifted a hand to your cheek and ran a thumb over your cheekbone, as if maybe you might feel different under his touch. And when you didn’t, his last scraps of hesitance melted away. Tears welled in your eyes.

“Just… promise me not to tell Dean until we figure this out.”

“Promise not to tell me what?”

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gothfleur · 23 days

Text

home again - sam winchester

pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader/vampire!reader ➖⟢ genre : angst, hurt/comfort, fluff ➖⟢ cw : features dean x reader (platonic), near death experience, injuries, blood mention, animal death mention, swearing, so much pining, petty dean, crying, guilt, poorly edited, lmk if i missed something! ➖⟢ wc : 1.5K summary : after being turned into a vampire, you struggle to face sam again.

prefer to read on ao3? read it here!

note: this is my first time writing in a long time, and i'm trying out a new style... this is also my first time writing for sam! pls be kind and enjoy!

It’s been fourteen days since the vampires took you away as you slept in a dingy motel room with the Winchesters. Twelve days since they turned you into one of them. And seven days since you wasted them all.

The vampires had turned you, kept you, and starved you. Ensuring you would be driven into a bloodlust-fueled frenzy when they gave you something alive.

And when they did, you couldn’t help yourself. Soon, there was a crumpled human body at your feet, red pooling in a puddle beneath it—her. Thus leaving you a full-fledged vampire, bound to this way of life forevermore.

When you came to, mind clear now that you had been fed, you were careful in making sure none of them would hurt you ever again. Or… anyone else, for that matter.

You found Sam first. Asking around for you not far from where the vampires had taken you.

Sam felt as if he was running out of time. He had been worried sick, hardly sleeping or not sleeping at all. How could he rest if he didn’t know where you were? If you were even safe? He didn't even want to entertain the thought that you could be dead. You were out there, and he was going to find you.

You ultimately swore off seeing Sam and Dean ever again. You would just have to forget them; you were what they hunted now. You couldn’t face them, a monster in the perfect likeness of their friend. You were afraid of what they would think and what they would do. Would they forgive you? Would they turn you away? Worse yet, there was a possibility they would kill you, right? You were a vampire now, after all.

So, you tried to keep it low-key before you could get your shit together and get out of town, leaving your old life behind. Feeding only on animals and staying away from the humans around town. But when Sam and Dean caught wind of some mysterious blood-sucking disease affecting the animals, they knew they were close to finding the vampires who had something to do with your disappearance.

Little did they know, they just found you.

You had your teeth buried deep in the neck of a rat when you felt a blade press to the back of your neck.

“Fine dining out here, huh? Rats, yum.”

Dammit, Dean. Always with the sarcastic comments.

Your vampire instincts said to attack, but your human heart said to flee. You didn’t want them to see what you’d become.

“Answer our questions, and this blade won’t have your head rolling on the ground.”

Sam.

He didn’t sound like himself. He sounded desperate, worried, and at wit's end. If threats were going to be the quickest way to find you, so be it. He hoped this vampire would listen, that violence would be a last resort. This isn’t how he likes to go about things, but with someone he cared about in danger, he didn’t want to waste time.

Hunger stabs at your stomach at the smell of them. Blood is pulsing beneath the fragile layer of their skin. You can hear it sliding along their veins, and you fight back a gag. These were your friends, not something to devour.

You move, trying to stand and run, but the blade at your neck presses into your skin. You yelp, and a hand turns you and pins you to the ground, back pressed against the damp grass. You squirm in an attempt to free yourself, but you're weak and untrained. Your vampire strength can’t and won’t save you now.

You watch helplessly as their faces strain and relax in realization. Morphing from surprise, relief, then to some emotion you can’t place. Something tells you it's somewhere between anger, fear, and denial. Probably some fucked-up human mix of all three.

“Y/N…” Sam murmurs, his eyes softening as he looks at you, the blood drying on your lips. You can hear his heart slow; he’s relieved to see you, despite everything.

Dean removes his hands immediately, realizing it’s you who he’s hurt and pinned to the ground.

Sam takes a step forward, crouching in front of you and reaching to pull you up. You can’t help but shirk away, scrambling backward away from him. Sam winces at your reaction, and he bites at the inside of his lip.

“I’m so sorry, you guys. So sorry… I,” Words tumble from your lips before you can stop them. If your heart was still beating, you’re sure it would be leaping out of your chest right about now.

“Shh, shh. Y/N, we aren’t… we won’t hurt you,” Sam says, his voice soft and sweet like it always was. It’s only been two weeks since you saw him last, but so much has happened since then. It felt like a lifetime had passed between then and now. You were a completely different person now, on an entirely different level of existence.

“But what if I hurt you?” You cry, twisting your fingers between blades of grass as you lift your gaze to them. “I can’t trust myself. I’m so scared; I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dean has his hand hovering above his knife’s sheath, and you don’t blame him. You’re grateful. If you can’t stop yourself, maybe he will.

Sam swallows, glancing back at Dean to steady himself. He wasn’t expecting this, and if he was being honest, he didn’t know what to say or to do. But this was still you. The person whose coffee order he’d memorized, whose smile he’d tease out with compliments and stupid jokes, whose eyes he'd find himself lost in more times than he could count. You might be... different, but you’re still Y/N, and he’s going to make you remember that. You’re not a monster, and you’ll never be, at least not to him.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” he assured, his voice as gentle as possible. He reaches out again, his large hand coming to rest on your shoulder. It’s warm against your eternally cool skin, and you realize you’d forgotten what his warmth felt like.

“Sam,” You whisper, eyes flickering down at his hand, then back to his face. He’s handsome as always, his hazel eyes shining in the moonlight. You search them, scanning for any fear or disgust. There’s none of that. Instead, you find acceptance and concern. Your breaths come easier, and you swallow. Everything is easier when he’s by your side. Tears well in your eyes, and you realize that under all of your fear, there is comfort in seeing him again.

Sam watches as your eyes flutter shut, a tear rolling down your blood-streaked cheek. He wants so much to hold you, to wipe your face clean, and to tell you he’ll always be here for you. You’ll always be his Y/N.

“Aren’t you scared of me? Scared of what I’ll do? Of what I am?” You whine, looking up at Sam and Dean with a pleading look that crushes their hearts.

“You’re still you. Changed some, but still you.” Sam nods as he speaks, his inner brow raised worryingly. His words make you want to burst into tears. You were so scared of rejection, of them leaving you—all that makes you feel kind of silly now.

Dean sighs, his hand falling to his side as the other reaches up to rub his temple.

“Just keep your teeth to yourself, you hear?” He jokes, but you know he’s partly serious, too.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” You chuckle, sniffling and wiping the tears from your cheek. You feel the dried blood crack on your face, and you wipe at it, scrubbing hard as it flakes off. Overcoming your sanguine urges would be hard, not to mention the fact you’re likely facing eternity. But maybe with these two by your side, it won’t be so bad.

Sam pulls you close, wrapping his long arms around you. He missed you. He missed hearing your laugh and breathing in your perfume whenever you walked past. He wasn’t going to let you go again.

You hesitate to hug him back at first, your vampiric instincts firing at full blast. But when you finally hold him, that all melts away. You feel human again, for a moment. And strong enough to beat this thing. After all, you’d met vampires who were able to resist their urges.

Sam strokes the back of your head once, feeling your hair under his fingers before breaking the hug. He smiles at you, and as he stands, he brings you up with him. His warm hand holds yours, and you never want him to let go.

“Jesus, you two,’ Dean rolls his eyes and motions back towards baby, ‘let’s just get back home. Y/N, you need a shower.”

“I missed you too, Dean.” You smile, and the three of you start back towards the car.

You breathe in the cool night air. You’re home again.

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winchesterszvonecek · 10 months

Text

Clothes - [ Gabriel ]

Prompt: How he’d react to you wearing his clothes requested

Word Count: 1155

Warnings: female!reader, fluff, suggestive tones

A/N: the prompt was meant to be a headcanon but i decided to make it a little fic instead

Masterlist | Gabriel Masterlist

You were always cold in the mornings. No matter how warm the room you were in was or who was sleeping next to you, you couldn’t help but feel a chill. It’s what made getting out of bed that much harder for you most days.

And today was no different as when you woke, your eyes fluttering sleepily open at the sound of rowdy neighbours in the motel room beside yours, you were quick to feel the cold seep into your body. Right down to your bones in a way that had you shaking almost immediately and it was as though someone had you on vibrate.

Normally you’d just pull the covers back up and nestle into the bed until you felt a smidge of warmth beneath your skin. But this morning you really, really needed to pee, therefore you couldn’t wait any longer otherwise you’d burst. So you were left with no other choice but to suck it up, and face the cold of the room.

Before you did that though, you glanced to your side, the early morning sun that crept through the thin curtains casting perfectly over Gabriel’s sleeping face, making you smile softly as you still couldn’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that you were dating an archangel.

If someone had told you back when you first met him, when he was making people believe they were being abducted by aliens and having alligators roam about the sewers, that you’d be here with him now you’d have laughed in their face.

Yet here you were, nestled beside one of God’s first born angels in bed after a night of… Fun. And honestly? If you could go back and do it all over again, you wouldn’t change a thing as there wasn’t anywhere else you’d rather be than right here next to him.

Well actually, there was one place you’d rather be right now and that was the bathroom. You may have stared dreamily towards Gabriel a little too long and now you were on the verge of being unable to control your bladder anymore. You swung your legs out of bed, wincing at the sudden coldness that cascaded over you, erupting your skin in fierce goosebumps that could be seen from a mile away, they were that prominent.

Your feet hit the linoleum floor with a soft thud, sending a chill straight up your legs as they carried you around the bed. You grabbed the first article of clothing you could find on your way across the room, of which most of your clothes had been scattered about last night in yours and Gabriel’s vigorous attempts at speeding things along as it had been a while since you last saw each other.

It didn’t click in your head that you’d picked up Gabriel’s shirt. The dark red button down that the angel favoured so much, which was evident by how often he wore that same outfit as he never had any reason to change. He didn’t sweat, not like humans did. He was able to clean them up with a click of his fingers should they get bloody or dirty, therefore he could wear the same clothes for a lifetime and never once need to change them.

And you were totally not jealous of that at all. (You were.)

But anyway, you didn’t seem to realise that you were wearing it, not until you left the bathroom, feeling much better, and spotted him sitting upright against the headboard, his arms folded over his chest and a rather cheeky grin on his face.

“Look at you…” Gabriel exhaled, trailing his eyes up and down the length of your body, drinking in the sight of you hidden away beneath his shirt. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were purposely trying to turn me on.”

“What are you talking about?” You chuckled, hurrying towards the bed again as even though your top half was covered, your legs were still bare and you always did get incredibly cold feet.

“You’re wearing my shirt.” Gabriel pointed out, watching with amusement as you slowed down on your travels across the room and glanced down at yourself.

He could see that smile itching to rise on your slowly blushing face. The way your hand landed on your stomach telling him it was fluttering beneath the fabric of his shirt and it was only then you both came to realise that even after the years you’d been seeing each other, you’d never once worn an article of his clothing.

“I was cold.” You said shyly, dipping your face to hide it from him.

You didn’t know why it felt so… embarrassing to be caught wearing his shirt given the things you both did together, but perhaps it was because it was seen as a more romantic thing than inherently sexual is what made you a tiny bit nervous as to his reaction.

“There’s no need to be shy, hotstuff.” Gabriel said playfully, cocking his head a little to motion for you to come towards him. “Not when you look far better wearing it than I ever could.”

He held out his hand the closer you got to him, pulling you onto his lap the second your fingers brushed and the moment you landed on him he could feel the goosebumps on your legs as they straddled him. His hands were quick to delve beneath the material, holding you close to him and allowing his own body heat to help warm you as he kissed you.

“Mhm, you like seeing me in your clothes, don’t you?” You teased, your shyness gone instantly as your arms slinked around his neck, fingers threading through his hair. “In nothing but your clothes.”

“You’re damn right I do, baby.” Gabriel whispered, the hotness of his breath puffing out over your lips before he took them in his again, kissing you with enough heat that it was like your entire body went up in flames. “It’s almost better than seeing you without any clothes at all.”

He kissed you once again, his hand trailing its way up your back, his fingers ghosting over the bumps of your spine in a way that had you shiver beneath his touch. Your own hand slipped from his hair, dropping between your bodies as you slowly began to pop open each button, something Gabriel was well aware of given how his lips rose beneath yours as he couldn’t help but smile.

It’s safe to say that what happened after that final button popped open, the way your bodies pressed tightly together; each brush of his lips and graze of his hands over every inch of your skin, was enough to make you forget all about the cold. And enough to make you want to wear his clothes forever as after that, you were pretty sure you’d never feel anything but hot ever again.

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tagging: @lorileopard @captainkatya @Panickinanakin1 @darkenigma322 @tortilla-chips-and-allioli @peppermint-j @alexxavicry @evanbuckbuckley @calisto-thoughts

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impalanna · 3 months

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Imagine: sitting in the impala while it’s raining with Dean. Imagine listening to the sound of the rain hitting the metal, and just talking with Dean. All night, just the two of you. Imagine telling him, during this endeavor, that he is your home.

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #supernatural oneshot #supernatural imagine

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prentissluvr · 4 months

Text

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.”

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mxltifxnd0m · 2 months

Text

heaven's in your eyes യ s. winchester

summary: you and sam are in a sticky situation and there's only one way to get out of it

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

word count: 3.4K

warnings: vaguely set in season 3/4, fluff, mutual pining, slight angst, teasing from dean, sam in a tux (yes that's a warning), kissing, suggestive/spice, implied smut but no smut

a/n: i've had this one stuck in the noggin for a while and finally got around to writing it! this was heavily inspired by and based on the mall scene in captain america TWS between steve and nat and 3x6 episode with bela.

reblog and comment on the fic! I love seeing your thoughts on it sm 😊

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You never thought you'd be in this position in a million years, feeling the heat of Sam's hands seep into the fabric on your waist as he pulled you in closer, sliding his leg between yours as your back hit the wall. This is not what you had thought would happen when you decided to ask for the Winchesters' help on your hunt.

You had run into the Winchester brothers after you had "accidentally" killed the witch they had been hunting. You had no idea that the three of you were hunting the same witch, but you had gotten to her first. You had no clue that the Winchesters were in the same town as you. Your paths never crossed until they found you hunched over the witch's body, blood splattered over your face and clothes, with the living room of the witch in complete disarray.

You looked up from the dead witch to see two tall mountains dressed in leather and flannel standing in the doorway. You remembered their faces were screwed up with expressions of surprise and puzzlement as you stood up from the carpeted floor with a grin on your face.

"Seems I beat the two of you to it." You said to them, slightly out of breath, and stuck out a hand for them to shake, introducing yourself to the two men who you deduced to be hunters. You instantly noticed that they were gorgeous. They seemed to walk straight out of a GQ magazine. But the thing that gave away the fact that they were hunters was how they held themselves like soldiers (and the fact they had guns in their hands as they burst into the house like madmen).

Your eyes were drawn to the taller one of the two (they were both pretty tall, but you could have considered this one a giant). He had shaggy brown hair with bangs that you just knew that he had to brush away from his eyes frequently and a nose that, if you followed the slope of it, you could see how it came to a cute point at the end of it. What really entranced you was his hazel eyes that memorized you as soon as you made contact with them.

They introduced themselves as Dean and Sam, the latter being the one you found yourself attracted to the most as his warm hand engulfed yours as the two of you shook hands.

From then on, you guys seemed to cross paths at least once a month on a hunt. Whether it was a nest of vampires, a vengeful spirit, or a pack of werewolves, the Winchesters and you would end up in the same place and time and end up working together. There was this unspoken agreement that the three of you would work together if you so happened to be working the same hunt.

During these hunts, you found yourself pining over Sam Winchester. You didn't know how it happened at first (okay, you do know how it happened, but you didn't want to admit anything at first), but you noticed how kind and sweet Sam was. Sam's empathy and positivity were a stark contrast to the bleakness you were used to as you worked on hunts, but it was a breath of fresh air for you.

It didn't help that the two of you got along like a house on fire. You met someone who could understand your weird niche literary references, match you in a battle of wits, and actually enjoy learning and the research aspect of hunting. And your yearning for him didn't stop there because it didn't help that Sam was devastatingly handsome and, at his core, such a gentleman.

The realization that you liked Sam hit you like a ton of bricks. So, you did what you did best when it came to your feelings, you ran. You distanced yourself from them. You would purposely dodge their calls (Sam's mostly). It was a dick move, and you knew it since they were most likely calling for help, but you couldn't bring yourself to call back.

But with this particular hunt, you were stumped and needed help. You had tracked down a necklace from the late 17th century that led a trail of bodies behind it. You surmised that it was cursed, and you needed to get to it and burn it. The only problem was that it was sold to a small museum owner in an estate sale from the previous owner and was going to be displayed in the town's museum for its grand opening, with the necklace being the main exhibit. You had no way of getting it without being caught, so you needed extra hands.

You paced the length of the motel room you were staying out, biting your thumb as you debated on calling in for some help. You would have called Bobby for help, but you knew he would just send the Winchesters over to you anyway. After pacing around your room, you bit the bullet and called Dean.

"Well, isn't this a surprise sweetheart!" Dean's voice filtered through your ears, and you couldn't help the slight smile that grew on your face at the sound of his cheery tone (even if you could hear the undercurrent of smugness in his words).

"Hi Dean," You greeted with a chuckle as you sat down on the edge of the bed, the springs creaking slightly underneath your weight.

"I hate to admit it, but I need your help on this hunt I'm working on." You asked as you bit your bottom lip, waiting for his response.

"You're in luck. Sammy and I just wrapped up a hunt here, where are you anyway?"

You felt your heart start to beat faster at the mention of Sam, which made you roll your eyes at your reaction to just a name. You told him the town and the state the hunt was in, and you could practically hear the grin in his voice as Dean replied.

"We're not that far from you. Just a couple hours drive from you."

"Well, if you're up for it, I could really use the help."

"Oh, we'll be there, sweetheart. Text me the motel you're staying at and the room number, and I'll let you know when we get there."

"Will do." You told him, and the two of you said goodbye as you hung up the phone. You fell backward onto the bed with a loud exhale. At least you had a couple of hours to compose yourself and try to breathe normally. You found yourself always short of breath while Sam Winchester was in the vicinity of you (you should probably go to the doctor for that, but it's not like you had good health insurance for a physical).

A couple of hours later, you heard the familiar rumble of the Impala just outside of the motel room. You felt something flutter in your stomach when you realized that you'd be seeing Sam after three months of no contact. There was a knock at the door, and after checking through the peephole of the door, you unlocked and swung the door open to be greeted with the broad grin of Dean Winchester, his brother, standing right behind him with a smaller smile on his face.

Dean had pulled you into a short but warm hug and brushed past you into your room, making himself home as you gave Sam a hug in greeting, feeling his arms wrap around you and squeezing before letting go. You could have sworn his touch lingered as he entered your room. You bit your bottom lip and released it as you shut your door.

Once Sam and Dean were settled at the table in your motel room and you on the bed, you gave them the rundown of what the hunt was and what you needed to do to get rid of the necklace. You were so engrossed in explaining your research and what you found out that you didn't notice Sam's eyes trained on you the entire time, a fond smile on his face as he listened to you talk.

"Not that we're not happy to see you, but this seems like a one-person job?" Dean questioned.

"That's what I thought too, but I found out that the necklace was going to be the main exhibit for the museum and unveiled at the end of the night. I was going to knab it beforehand, but this museum has pretty good security, and as much as I'm good at sneaking around, I don't have the measures to handle them without backup."

"We're just backup then? Oh, that hurts more than you could imagine sweetheart," Dean pretended to get shot in the heart, dramatically holding his chest.

You chuckled at Dean before you looked at Sam at that moment and caught him rolling his eyes at his brother.

"Quit being dramatic Dean," Sam said before his eyes met yours. "We'll help in anyway we can." The soft smile that was on his lips made you melt inside.

You smiled back at Sam. "Thanks, but there's another thing, it's a black-tie event." You winced a bit at your own words.

Dean groaned. "You're telling me I have to wear a tux?"

You scoffed at Dean's whining. "At least you could still hunt in a tux, wearing a dress makes it a little more difficult to move in."

A salacious grin made its way onto Dean's face. "Ah, but it's easier access if you know what I mean." He winked at you, and one of the pillows from the bed hit his face. You heard Sam chuckle, making your smile widen.

"Shut up, Dean. It's late, and the event is tomorrow. So you guys need to buy a suit and I need to go out and buy a dress." You all but shooed the brothers out of your room and bid each other good night.

Morning came faster than you anticipated, and the three of you went out for breakfast at the nearest diner before you guys went shopping for the outfits you needed for tonight.

"So, I was thinking, if the event is black-tie, wouldn't it mean this is invite only?" Sam asked while the three of you were eating.

You swallowed thickly and nodded. "Yeah, I was able to get two tickets, both of them with plus ones." The sweet old lady who ran the motel had given them to you, saying that she was too old to go and wanted to give them someone. She had given them to you since you had mentioned offhandly that you wanted to visit the museum after it opened.

"Good, I'll take the other ticket and Sammy here can be your plus one." Dean said with a wide smile as he patted Sam's shoulder. Your eyes widened at Dean's words, seeing the mischief glint in his green eyes.

You pursed your lips and looked at Sam. He had an unreadable face and looked everywhere but at you.

You cleared your throat to grab his attention. "Is that okay with you Sam?"

Sam finally looked at you and hummed. "Sorry, what?"

"Are you okay with being my date to the museum?" You clarified.

Sam nodded, his hair falling into his eyes as he did. "Yeah, it's okay." He reassured you, and the temptation to brush it away for him was at an all-time high. You couldn't help but feel a little disappointed when he did it himself.

From there, the three of you finished your breakfast and went out and shopped for your dresses and tuxedos, respectively. You had found a beautiful spaghetti-strap green dress; the neckline came at a v, exposing a large portion of your collarbone and chest, a slit on either side of the dress that went up to your midthigh. There was an open back that stopped right above your lower back. This was the first time in years you would wear a dress, and when you tried it on in the store, you couldn't help but get it.

Once you guys were done shopping, you went back to the motel to get ready. Dean teased you about how girls take longer, but you didn't dignify his teasing with a response. With a roll of your eyes and a wave of your hand, you went into your motel room to get ready and informed the boys to be prepared by 6:30 since the event started at 7.

You took a shower, shaved everything, and slipped into the dress. You did your makeup, and it was a little heavier than usual, having put some eyeshadow on your lids, smoking it out, eyeliner, and some lipstick to tie the look together. With your hair, you french braided the front of it, leaving some framing pieces out, and then took the rest of your hair and pulled it into a bun at the nape of your neck.

There was a knock on your door as you finished up, and you quickly left the bathroom and opened the motel door to see Sam and Dean in their tuxes. They both looked handsome, but your breath caught as you stared at Sam. His hair was relatively the same; it was just combed down, and some product was used to tame it. His suit fit him like a glove, and you gripped the door a little tighter as your eyes roamed his figure.

"Wow," Dean breathed out, breaking you out of your little trance. "You look great." Dean said with a genuine smile on his face. His compliment made you smile.

"Thanks Dean. You look pretty good too."

Dean scoffed playfully. "Just good? I think the words you're looking for are handsome, jaw-droppingly attractive or you know any adjective that means hot."

"Right," You drawled out. "Why would I lie to you?" You smiled sarcastically at him and laughed when his smile dropped into a scowl.

"I'll be in the car." He grumbled before stalking off to the parking lot and to the Impala.

You and Sam laughed at Dean before the two of you settled into an awkward silence.

You smiled tightly at him. "Let me get my bag and we can go."

Sam nodded, and you quickly grabbed your bag. You exited the room and locked the motel door once it closed. The two of you walked to the Impala and got in.

Once you had entered the museum, you knew you were doomed. Sam was acting like a perfect gentleman and date, always having a hand on you at all times, whether it be at the small of your back or your arm hooked around his as you walked around the ornate museum.

"I didn't get to say this earlier, but you look beautiful." Sam had whispered into your ear as the two of you walked into the museum, and you almost tripped on your kitten heels because of the sudden compliment. You felt your cheeks warm as you quietly thanked him.

The three of you decided to walk the museum and tried to find the necklace before it could be unveiled to the public. Dean had the first floor, while you and Sam had the second floor. Most of the second floor was the other exhibits the museum had. But you eventually found the necklace behind a locked room. Sam picked the lock to the door and saw the necklace in the corner of the room. The two of you carefully grabbed the necklace from the mannequin neck it was displayed on and put it in your bag.

Before you guys could get out of the room, you heard heavy footsteps heading your way. You started to panic internally as Sam looked at you urgently.

"Kiss me." You blurted out.

Sam's eyes widened. "What?"

"Look, we don't have a way out without being caught and public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable."

"Yeah, they do. Are you sure?"

You heard the footsteps get closer and closer, and you quickly pulled Sam down by his neck and placed your lips on his. Sam's hands found your waist as he pulled you in closer to his broad figure but also moved you backward until your bare back hit the wall.

His lips were soft and warm as they moved against yours, and you couldn't help but feel warmth fill your chest as you kissed him. Your hands made their way up his chest and wound up on his shoulder and hair, making him scoot closer to you, his leg fitting through the gap between your open ones and gasping into his lips as his thigh pressed against your core.

The door opened, and the both of you pulled away, slightly out of breath, and turned to see Dean grinning widely in the doorway.

"Well, as much as I love to see the two of you work your feelings out for each other, we need to leave before we get caught stealing a necklace."

Your heart starts to beat faster than it already was at Dean's words. Sam had feelings for me? You thought to yourself as you looked at Sam, who was already looking back at you and seemed to think about the same thing.

Sam leaned down. "We'll talk at the motel." He whispered in your ear before pulling away and sending you a smile. You nodded and followed him out of the room, Dean leading the charge out of the museum.

You were nervous and antsy the entire ride back to the motel, having destroyed the necklace in the woods right beside the museum. You stared at the back of Sam's head as Dean drove, wondering what the hell was going through his head.

When you guys made it back, Sam had you followed back to your room. Dean noticed, and he started to make some teasing remarks about the two of you to keep it down. All you and Sam did was flip him off and go into your room.

After the door shut, you and Sam were standing in the middle of the room, staring at each other in a charged silence. You don't know who moved first, but the two of you were entangled in one another, hands pulling at clothes, lips, and teeth on jawlines and neck. Hips grinding into one another, low moans and groans filled the air as the two shared a passionate embrace.

Later, after the two of you cleaned up, you were tucked into Sam's side, resting your head on his bare chest, absentmindedly tracing his tattoo with your fingertip. At the same time, his hand trailed up and down your arm and shoulder and kissed your hair occasionally as the two of you basked in the comfortable silence.

"This isn't a one time thing for me you know?" Sam's voice broke through the calmness of the quiet room.

You turned your head to look up at him. "Really?" You asked him, and you could feel the corner of your lips threaten to twitch up into a smile.

Sam nodded a sheepish smile on his face. "I know I don't have the best track record, but I really like you." He said with a slight blush beginning to grow on his cheeks.

Sam had told you about his experiences with love in a late-night conversation you two had shared a couple of months ago. You could understand since you also didn't have the best experiences with love either and confided in each other about it.

But at Sam's admission, you couldn't help but smile widely as Sam. You moved from Sam's side to straddle his hips. He sat up a little, and you threw your arms over his shoulders.

"Well, you're in luck because I really like you too Sam Winchester." You leaned closer and brushed your lips over his.

You felt Sam grin as you pecked his lips. "Really?" He teased, his hands resting on your bare hips as he slowly moved them against his growing bulge under the sheets.

You kissed him hard before trailing your lips down his jaw and neck. "How about I just show you?" You mumbled against his collarbone and nipped at it before your lips trailed lower and lower down his body.

Maybe calling the Winchesters for help wasn't a bad idea at all.

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sylvia-plaths-fig-pie · 2 months

Text

Kiss Me ♡ Sam Winchester

Pairing: Sam winchester x reader

Warnings: no use of y/n, I'm very dyslexic so idk witch which is witch, not proof read, I wrote this in an hour? Help, kiss, idk what else to put, this may not make sense but I just needed to write something and all my wips bored me so ✨️tada✨️

Summary: a witch cursed Sam to only awake with a true loves kiss, so naturally Dean calls you, the only problem is you haven't seen the Winchesters in 5 years.

You swore that you would never see the Winchesters again.

That was the only thing that you promised yourself. The one rule you could never break.

As a hunter you don't get a lot of garentees in life, you get close to zero, but this was your one none negotiable rule and everyone knew that.

Which is why you were cursing yourself as you drove down the highway, going at a very illegal speed trying to get to the winchesters as fast as possible.

Or more accurately to one spefic Winchester in particular.

Sam Winchester.

Dean had called you not even an hour ago, you hadn't picked up the fist 5 times, but on the 6th ring you figured it must be important.

He wasn't making alot of sense, but one thing was clear, Sam was in trouble and he needed you.

The winchesters being in trouble wasn't anything new, in fact it was the norm, but this seemed diffrent, it had to be diffrent otherwise you wouldn't have been called. Dean never called you even when you worked together, it was always sam. You and Dean didn't realy get along, it's not that you hated eachother, but you were both weary of eachother. And both of your concerns arose form the same factor, Sam. It was a safe assumption to say that you both cared for Sam, but unfortunately that ment that you often clashed.

But that's all in the past. Because you hadn't spoken to them in years. You hadn't seen Dean or Sam in 5 years. Yet here you were knocking on the door to the address of a motel that Dean frantically gave you over the phone.

"Hi-" you awkwardly began to sat as Dean opened the door, but you were quickly cut off.

"This is going to sound insane but right now I don’t have time to explain." Dean began, as he basically dragged you inside to where Sam lay unconscious on one of the cheap motel beds.

"Can you just kiss him?" Dean bluntly asked looking you in the eyes.

You were completely taken back by the forwardness of his request.

"What?" You muttered, glancing quickly to Sam, laying almost lifeless on the bed. He looked bad. You wouldn't have known he was alive if his chest didn't fall up and down ever so slightly.

As if reading your mind dean began to speak again. "And quickly as he might actually die soon."

"Sorry I'm a bit confused, why-" you began but were quickly cut off again.

"A witch, obsessed with fairy tales, cursed him like sleeping beauty or some princess shit and I thought killing the bitch would end the curse I was wrong so you need to kiss him."

Your head wad spinning. If it was sleeping beauty then that ment that...

That couldn't be true, could it?

No that made no sense you hadn't seen the younger of the brothers in 5 years. He was probably so diffrent. He could have lost his boyish smile. Or his perfect hair. Or his humour. Or-

"That doesn't explain why I specifically-" you began, but just as before you were cut off by Dean.

"Cut the bullshit, and just kiss him. I can waste time explaining but sammy is dieing, please. I just know that this will work, it has to, you look at him like I look-" he stopped himself, sighing almost lost in thought. "It doesn't matter just kiss him goddammit!" He practically shouted.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "just hurry up, I'll be outside."

With that he turned his back and slayed the motel door behind him as he left.

He left you alone with Sam.

Sam.

He looked terrible. He looked dead. It broke your heart. You could have stopped this. If you had just been there. If you'd had stayed....

No. You couldn't have.

You and Sam said things to eachother that you should have never said, and it ended up with you waking up in his bed. And you couldn't do that. Neither of you could. So you had to leave. And that's exactly what you did.

And that's when your rule stared. You told Bobby to never put you on a hunt with them or you wouldn't show.

Your rule spread like wild fire and soon it was a common known fact that you didn't hunt with the winchesters. No one knew why, but no one questioned it, especially given the winchesters track record.

Yet here you are, 5 years down the line, breaking your one rule.

You walked over to the edge of the bed to where Sam lay.

"I'm so sorry." You whispered. You didn't know exactly what you apologising for. Kissing Sam or for everything before this moment.

Closing your eyes you tentatively leaned forward and gently pressed your lips to his for a brief second before pulling away.

He didn't move.

No, no, no no. This couldn't be happening.

You reached to grab his hand, waeving your fingers between his.

"Come on Sam, please wake up." You pleaded as tears began to fill your eyes. How could you be so stupid? You left hom for 5 years, he could have been dead for that whole time and you would have had no idea.

"Please..." you sobbed as you rested your head on his chest.

You felt numb. It felt like you had just been stabbed in the chest and someone kept twisting the knife.

Gently a hand started stroking your hair.

Your head jolted up.

There he was, eyes open, a small smile on his lips.

"Hi love," he bearly whispered, half confused half over joyed.

"Sam!" You cried and you flung your arms round his neck, "you scared me you son of a bitch."

"What are you...?" He began but trailed off.

"Dean called." You answered, quickly remembering the whole situation, pulling shyly away from Sam.

"You came?" He sounded shocked.

"You needed my help."

"I thought-"

"Yeah you made me break my one rule Sam so...?"

A silence fell over the pair of you. You couldn't look him in the eyes. God you felt awkward.

"It was a pretty crap rule." He mumbled, looking directly at you, a half smile playing on his lips.

"I had good reason for it I mean-" you began.

"You ran away beacsue you were scared." He said matter of fact way, his eyes showing his hurt.

"I hunt monsters for a living I doubt that I was scared of some feelings, they're hardly spooky." You laughed. It was painfully obviously forced.

"So why did you leave then?"

You couldn't answer his question. He was right. You were scared. Scared of what you felt for him. And back then it felt like a valid reason. But right now, you felt stupid.

"You know what the curse was don't you?" He asked.

"Sam I-"

"It was the cliche of a true loves kiss. The witch said it didn't exist so I was destined to die."

You stayed silent, you couldn't look at him. You knew what it ment. You both did.

"Yet here I am, here you are." He said as though he was proving evidence in court. You were evidence of true love. After 5 years of not seeing eachother, you both still were irrevocably in love with one another. It was true love.

"Here I am." You agreed, finally meeting his eyes. "So now what?" You asked tentatively.

You were both quiet then. His smile only grew as he leaned closer to you.

"I think it's time you got rid of your stupid rule." He whispered in your ear.

"Why should I do that?" You pulled away, a matching smile on your face.

His smile softened as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"So that way I can wake up with you beside me, instead of you just living inside my dreams. So I can hold on to you instead of just our memories. So you can kiss me all the time and not just beacsue I'm dieing."

"That does seem like a valid reason, you got anymore?"

"Because I know, even after 5 years, you still feel the same way I do"

"And what's that?"

"I love you."

You were only inches away from his face now. You could feel his breath on your skin. He leaned on closer pressing his lips to yours.

His lips felt so familiar it almost hurt. It felt right. This is where you needed to be, this is where you should have been for five whole years.

You let yourself sink into his embrace as his hands flattened against your spine, drawing you impossibly closer.

His breathing had become more strained; his muscles tensed as he deemed the kiss, your hands finding their way into his hair.

You didn't want to stop,you couldn't, and judging by Sam's reaction to your touch he couldn't either.

"Have you-?" Neither of you hear the door to the motel open as Dean basically ran in. "Oh jesus my eyes, sammy I'm glad you're okay but fucking hell!" He quickly truned on his heels, overdramtically covering his eyes. "Use protection!" He shouted just before he closed the door, muttering under his breath 'these darm kids' as though he were a middle aged man.

You and Sam just looked at eachother for a singular moment before bursting into laughter.

"I might ammend my rule slightly..." you said after a few deep breaths.

"How so?" He asked leaning in closer to you once more.

"I now swear that I'll see the winchesters everyday, or at least one spefic Winchester everyday."

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5sospenguinqueen · 7 months

Text

Sam: Why is Dean crying on the floor?

Y/N: He took one of those 'which Supernatural character are you?' quizzes.

Sam: And?

Y/N: He got Ketch.

(Dean sobs harder)

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yunggoblin · 11 months

Text

Innocent, Yet Dirty - Sam Winchester (18+)

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: *Based off of Season 11 episode 12!* You're the youngest out of Jody's girls. What happens when the topic of sex comes across during dinner?

Warnings: Shy!Reader, Virgin!Reader, bullied, Un-Protected Sex, Awkward Sex Talk, Smut, Cussing, Minors DNI

Word Count: 4,164

Being the youngest in the house wasn’t the greatest, but it did have its advantages. The good thing about it was you basically got everything and treated a queen. The bad thing was no one heard the youngest, no one thinks the youngest is the one capable of doing things. Being the baby of the family meant basically you were treated like one and that’s what people saw you as.

The bell rang loudly as you made your way towards your locker, putting in the combination. Once it clicked you opened the locker that was white inside and the shelf up top was silver. Plain. Everyone had pictures up with their family, animals or boyfriend/girlfriends kissing. You, you didn’t have many pictures of your parents since they were attacked by werewolves. You sighed softly only to jump when your locker door was slammed shut.

"Hey Y/N.“ Alex, the second oldest of the three smiled, her boyfriend Henry’s arm hanging over her shoulder, her close to him. "Are you going to the game tonight?” She asked, cocking her head to the side.

You opened your mouth to speak but someone was already speaking for you. “Alex, babe. It’s Y/N you know she doesn’t go out.” Henry chuckled deeply.

"Henry.“ She snapped a bit, elbowing his side for his rudeness. "Well, I’ll see you in the car.” Alex smiled softly towards you and walked out with Henry, you did not like that boy ever since you laid your eyes on him. A group of jocks with leather men jackets on, obviously friends with Henry, walked by laughing. One roughly slammed his hand on your books making them drop to the ground, papers flying out of them from classes earlier today.

As you gathered up all the papers and books you shoved them in your book bag, zipping it up and making your way outside to see Henry kissing Alex good-bye. You make your way past them to Jody’s work vehicle. “Y/N, wait.” You heard a voice before opening up the car. “Hey, I’m really sorry about Henry and his friends. I know that they can be assholes at time.” Alex explained in a soft tone, not wanting Jody to hear.

Your eyes flashed to the side mirror to see Jody looking at the two of you, trying to see what was going on. “Uh yeah.” Flashing a fake convincing smile towards your adopted sister. “It’s fine.” Lie, you weren’t fine with it. You just wish high school would be over.

"Great!“ She announced and got into the driver seat as you got into the back. The drive home was awkward and silent, as Jody pulled up in the driveway a black impala was parked there, you recognized that car anywhere. The Winchester boys were here. You couldn’t help but let a blush creep up upon your cheeks at the thought of Sam Winchester appearing in your mind. You haven’t seen him in a few years after the case. He and his brother worked to help you out.

You knew who could then, Claire. “Can you guys help me with the groceries?” Asked Jody as she parked the car, you climbed out and grabbed a few bags for dinner tonight and a few other nights later on this week. Jody walked in first to see two men standing in the living room, Dean the short one with a jawline that could cut diamonds and Sam the tall one with puppy dog eyes and build like a rock. You passed everyone to put the bags on the counter top so Jody could go through it and put things away.

"You remember Y/N, don'tcha?“ Jody asked as she pulled away from the hug she shared with Dean.

"Of course I remember little Y/N. How couldn’t we?” Dean chuckled out, flashing a smile towards her way.

"Hey Y/N, long time no see.“ Sam said, approaching you with his arms out wide expecting a hug. Your heart raced as the tall male wanted a hug from you. You quickly dodge the hug and rush up the stairs to your room. Sam frowned a bit and looked towards Jody to see if he did anything wrong, Dean also looked at Jody for an explanation.

"She’s just a shy girl.” Jody tried to laugh it off, not knowing what your deal was.

"Yeah, when it comes to contact with men.“ Claire teased out and stood up from the sofa, clapping her hands and rubbing them together. "Now, let's talk about that case.”

A few hours passed as you were sitting at your desk in your bedroom, writing down notes and reading in your History book about the Civil War. Sighing heavily as you rubbed your eyes as they grew heavier and heavier as you scanned the words on the paper. “Y/N, dinner is done!” You heard Claire shout out up the stairs. You placed your history notebook into the book and shut it so you wouldn’t lose the page you were at. You walked down the stairs to see two more people joining for dinner.

You slowly shuffled towards the only seat that was opened, at the end of the table by Claire and Dean. Forks clinked against plates as silence filled the room, you, Claire and Alex looked at the two Winchesters as they tore into the food like they haven’t eaten in days. Sam ate the food off of his fork, tilting his head back as his eyes were closed like he was in pure bliss. “Hmm.” Dean was the one who broke the silence. “This bird is fantastic.” He basically moaned out from the taste of the dinner. “Just mix it up with the potatoes and- and the peas.” He looked at the four girls. “You guys eat like this everyday?” He questioned swallowing the rest of the food in his mouth.

“It’s just chicken.” Jody shrugged, like it was nothing but the boys were making something out of it.

“It’s shaped like chicken, not on a patty or- or a nugget.” Sam explained. You couldn’t believe that the boys never had a meal like this; they only ate at fast food or a cheap gas station.

Claire rolled her eyes not wanting to talk about this, “Can we just please talk about the case?” She questioned making Sam stop talking but Dean was still digging into his food, ripping a bread roll apart and shoving it in his mouth. As they talked about the case you couldn’t help but watch Sam. The way he licked off the chicken juice from his fingers, licking his lips every time he took a sip from his wine and how he sat up straight in his chair, broad shoulders up and forearms resting on the table.

“Yeah okay let’s talk about real life.” Claire scoffed with a smirk, you looked over at her. You knew that smirk anywhere, she was going to make a point and a damn good one. You pushed your mashed potatoes around with your silver fork. You brought up the fork to your mouth and ate the mash potatoes. “You and Henry pick a weekend yet?” She questioned making Alex arch an eyebrow and questioned ‘What?’ to Claire. “When you and Henry go to Jody’s cabin and screw yourself silly.” Claire announced to the whole table.

Alex’s eyes widened and went red in the face. “Oh, here we go.” Dean said, putting his fork down and adjusting in his seat getting ready for what was about to go down. Sam patted on his chest like he almost choked on his food.

“This uh, seems like a family business.” Sam swallowed thickly about the situation, he scooted his chair out but stopped when Jody slammed her hand down on the table.

“Sit, stay.” Jody demanded. You looked over at Claire who was snickering about the thing. “Alex, anything you wanna say?” She questioned which Alex soon declined and slurped on her water. Dean was looking at Alex who was clearly lying and Sam was looking at his food. “Well hey, if we can’t talk about it we shouldn’t be doing it, right?” Jody asked and looked over at Sam and Dean.

“Wha?” Dean questioned, swallowing a mouthful of food and Sam giving his best confused puppy dog face.

Jody inhaled and sighed out. “Okay, I’m not going to tell you that you’re too young to be having sex. Nor you,” Jody pointed at Alex. “Or you.” She pointed at you, you almost coughed up your water.

“Psh who is she going to have sex with? She doesn’t talk to anybody.” Alex snapped towards Claire, Claire rolled her eyes at the comment.

“Wrong person there. It’s Y/N, she’s the one who’s socially awkward. She wouldn’t even give Sam a hug.” You looked up to see everyone looking over at you. Your eyes darted towards Sam who cleared his throat and looked down. You could feel your face heating up and quickly stood up and walked out of the dinning room and rushed towards your room, slamming the door shut.

“Really? Did you really have to say that?” Jody asked in a pissy voice, Claire shrugged slightly and took a sip of her water.

“This is fun.” Dean said as Jody walked out to get more potatoes. Claire laughed a bit sarcastically and nodded.

Throughout the night you tossed and turned, panting softly. The blanket became a furnace wrapped around your body, you kicked it off only to roll over and groan in your sleep.

Your dream contained Sam's lips against your neck, hands ghosting over your body, teasingly. Moans and groans echoing in the distance. You quickly woke up in a cold sweat, the last thing you could remember from your dream was his hazel green eyes staring down at you while he thrust inside of you. You froze once you moved around a bit, there was an aching in between your thighs.

"Y/N, time for school.“ Jody knocked and opened the door making you pull the blankets closer to yourself. She frowned, noticing something was wrong. She walked over and put her cool hand against your forehead. "Oh sweetheart, you’re burning up. Stay home today and rest. I’ll be at the station, text me if you need anything.” She smiled softly and walked out, closing the door.

You sighed out softly, you weren’t sick you knew that for sure. That damn wet dream you had of the youngest Winchester must have had you so hot and bothered that your own body temperature raised, making Jody think you were sick. You got up a half an hour later and took a cold shower trying to calm yourself down. Once you got out you dried off and put on something comfortable. You walked down the creaky steps and to the kitchen.

As you looked in the fridge you could still imagine Sam’s hazel green eyes from your dream. Squirming slightly you quickly shut the door to the fridge and squeezed your thighs together, trying to gain friction to help with the feeling.

You chewed on the bottom of your lip remembering when your sex ed teacher said about this. The only thing to really do is what’s called masturbation… well if nobody was around. You let out a shaky breath and walked up towards your room, the stairs seemed much taller than usual. Once you reached the top you looked down the stairs to see the front door, no one. You walked towards your room shutting the door, looking out the window, no impala nor the sheriff's car. You closed your curtains and slowly stripped out of the clothes that made your body feel like 100 degrees.

You pulled the blankets back and laid down on the cool sheets, goosebumps erupted throughout your body as the air in the room seemed thicker than usual. Your hands slowly slid down the side of your body, going towards your core. You sucked in a break as your fingertip brushed up against your sensitive clit, you let out a whimper in the silent room. “S- Sam.” You blushed at the foreign sound, you didn’t even mean to moan out his name during this but he was all you can think of.

Your fingertips slowly grazed against your entrance, another soft moan left your lips as you exhaled a sigh. The foreign feeling in between your legs made you shiver, the soft touch of your fingers pressed against your throbbing clit. “Sam, fuck.” You moaned a bit louder than before.

Your lower stomach clenched as you teased your clit, thinking about the youngest Winchester brother, Sam. His sweet smile flooded your brain along with his body. You shivered once more thinking about what was in pants, he was a tall man so it wouldn’t surprise you if he was packing a lot.

Another hot wave hit your body, making you shiver as your pussy became even more wetter. Exhaling a shaky breath you slowly pushed your index and middle finger in between your aching lips. Swallowing thickly you placed the tips of your finger inside of you, your eyes shutting at the bliss of slowly being filled. “S- Sam, oh god, yes.” You moaned.

Before you could even push your fingers further inside of you, you heard your name being called out. “Y/N?” The person walked closer to the room. Your eyes darted towards the door as it started to open, they walked in as you quickly pulled the blanket over your naked body.

"G- Get out!“ You cried out, Sam’s eyes widen as he had a full view of everything,

"I- I’m, I’m so sorry.” He said a bit too quickly, not moving from his spot. You couldn’t look at him, too embarrassed to even say anything but you knew he was there, still looking at you.

“What are you doing?” Sam’s voice sounded deeper than usual.

You slowly turned your head, looking at Sam who was leaning against your door frame now. “W- What?” Your voice shook when you spoke. You must have been imagining this. Imagining that his voice was deeper and rougher, imaging that he was asking you what you were doing. Imagining that he had a raging hard on.

Your eyes widened to see the large tent of his pants in between his legs. Your eyes shot back up to Sam’s face who was smirking towards you. “I asked you ‘what are you doing’?” Sam pushed himself off of the door frame.

“I- I’m- I’m…” You couldn’t get your words out as you held the blanket closer to your naked body, your pussy still getting wet at the sight of Sam’s eyes roaming your body.

“Well, it looks like to me you’re playing hooky from school just to rub one out, yeah?” Sam walked inside of your bedroom, shutting the door softly behind him. “And you’re thinking of me while doing so.” You stayed silent as Sam approached you. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

You slowly nodded your head ‘yes.’ “Use your words, baby.”

“Y- Yes, I was thinking of you.” Your voice is small and soft when you speak.

“And here you have everyone fooled thinking that you’re some sweet innocent girl.” Sam clicked his tongue. “You know, from last night's conversation I couldn’t help but put two and two together. You’re a virgin?” He asked.

“Yes, I am.” You looked away, embarrassed but a blush upon your cheeks.

“And here you are touching that sweet little pussy, thinking of me and moaning my name.” Sam gripped himself, rubbing his cock as he let out a moan. “Does it feel good?”

“Felt so good.” You let out a soft whine as Sam toyed with you, you clenched your thighs together once more.

“Show me, show me how good it makes you feel.” Sam grabbed the end of the blanket and ripped it off of you, showing off your body. The cool air danced along your feverish skin, breaking out in goosebumps while your nipples became hard. “Show me how you touched yourself, baby.” Sam stood at the end of your bed, leaning against your dresser, still rubbing himself.

Swallowing, you licked your lips and laid back against your pillows once more, spreading your legs more to give Sam a better view. “Fuck, you’re so wet and all from thinking about me?” Sam admired your pussy from afar, his eyes becoming darker. “Show me.” Sam reminded you what to do.

Your fingers trailed down your stomach and in between your legs. You sucked in a breath once the tip of your fingers connected with your clit, shivering you circled your fingers around it, toying with yourself. “Good girl.” Sam moaned, never looking away.

“S- Sam.” You withered out a moan.

“I’m right here baby.”

Feeling juices collect and leak down onto the bed sheets you knew you were ready to take your fingers. Sliding your fingers closer towards your entrance, you were about to enter them inside of you until Sam spoke. “Stop.”

Stopping your movements you watched as Sam approached the foot of the bed. “You’ve never touched yourself have you?”

“This- This is my first time.” You panted, trying to collect your breath.

“I want to taste you, I want my tongue to be the first thing ever to be inside this pussy.” Sam climbed onto the bed, nuzzling himself in between your legs. “This is if you’ll have me?”

“Please, please Sam be the first.” You begged.

Sam smiled up at you, his green eyes never leaving yours as the tip of his tongue slowly swirled against your clit. You gasped loudly as his hot breath was upon you. “Shit.” You whined. Sam engulfed his mouth on your clit, slowly suckingly softly. “Fuck.” You cursed again, arching your back at the feeling.

Sam moaned, sending vibrations up your spine. He slowly pulled away, pushing your lips apart he hummed and dove back inside, lapping his tongue away on your pussy. You squealed as he pushed his tongue inside your tight walls, stretching them. “S- Sam.” You tried to warn him about your stomach clenching and your head feeling light.

Sam kept going, flicking his tongue in and out of you as he fucked you with it, climbing to a faster pace than before. Your breathing got heavier as you rolled your hips against his face. “S- Sam.” You moaned once more, Sam moaned with you as he rutted his hips against the mattress. “Fuck- wait, n- no wait!” You cried out, you tried to push him off but he wasn’t letting go. Something snapped inside of you as your first orgasm washed over your body.

You were screaming in pleasure, bucking your hips against Sam as he kept lapping at the cream you were giving him. Once he knew you were finished, he pulled away. “What- What was that?”

“You just came on my tongue.” Sam chuckled, licking his lips and collecting the rest of your juices on his face. “You want to do it on my dick?” Sam was now on his knees, rubbing himself through his pants.

“Y- Yes.” You panted, watching Sam get off the bed he pulled his shirt off, tossing it somewhere you admired his Anti-Possession symbol on his chest. Sam’s fingers danced along his belt, taking it off he pushed his jeans down along with his boxers. Sam’s thick cock bounced upwards slightly, hitting his lower toned stomach. Your mouth watered at the sight of his raging cock, leaking pre-come and begging to be stroked.

“Is it going to hurt?” You asked, still not taking your eyes off of Sam’s cock.

“Just a little baby, but I got you.” Sam crawled back on the bed, towering over you. Sam grabbed the base of his cock and rubbed his cock head against your slick folds, watching you come undone and shiver against him

"Sensitive little thing, aren'tcha?” He purred deeply as he slowly pushed the tip of his head in making you hiss slightly.

"S- Sam.” You whined as his large tip stretched you.

“Shh, I’m right here baby. So tight around me and I’m barely even in you.” Sam looked down as your pussy slowly swallowed him. “That’s a good girl, taking this fat cock.” Sam moaned as he pushed himself inside of you.

You gripped onto his biceps, digging your nails into his flesh as the slight burning sensation washed over you as his thickness stretched your walls wider. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. “Shit- you’re big.” You cried out.

“Almost there baby, it’s going to feel so fucking good when I start pumping inside of you.” Sam’s voice gruffed out as he was struggling to keep the movement slow as he pushed himself inside of you. Sam sighed out loudly, blissfully as he was now balls deep in you. “Fuck! Wrapped so snug around me.” It was Sam’s turn to whimper. “About to make me come.” He teased.

You moaned softly at the sound of that, the thought of your cunt being so tight that it made Sam come undone upon entering you. “Pl- Please, move. I need to feel you.” You whimpered out, gripping his shoulder and clawing at his skin. You wrapped your legs around his waist, the pain slowly fading which felt like forever which turned into pleasure.

Sam slowly started to grind his hips against you, rocking back and forth as he pushed in and out, low moans erupting from both of you as he started to settle a pace. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” Sam moaned, looking down to see his cock glistening wet each time he pulled out of you. Sam pulled out all the way out and slammed back into you a bit too roughly. You let out a loud cry that could be heard throughout the house. “Shit baby, I’m sorry.” He apologized and stopped his movements.

"N- No Sam, please. Again, again, again!“ You begged out loudly, he looked down at you smiling softly. He pulled out and pushed roughly back in moaning softly. "Fuck, yes right there.” You moaned.

Sam started to quickly pump his hips, in and out, in and out. “Fuck baby, you’re going to make me come.” Sam grunted out, you arched your back into him as his cock twitched in you.

"M- Me too, I’m going to come. Fuck, Sammy I’m going to come!” You sobbed, "Sammy, please let me come!” You screamed out his name. His hips roughly slamming into you, skin slapping against skin, the most sinful sounds echoing throughout the room, bouncing off the walls.

You clawed down his back, gripping it tightly as he grunted, the bed rocking with a creak of every thrust. “Shit, fucking going to come.” Sam growled, your walls clenching around his hard cock making it harder for him to thrust.

"Shit, Sam!“ You cried out as you were squirting all on his cock, Sam also moaned out, the tight feeling of your pussy clenching around him had him on the edge. He quickly pulled his cock out, his hand wrapped around his cock, covering in your juices made it easier for him to quickly jerk himself off. He moaned loudly as ropes of come squirted on your lower stomach. “Fuck, yes, fuck, Y/N.” Sam tilted his head back moaning, his hips rutting against his touch. You panted out softly as you were coming down from your high, admiring the mess Sam made all over your body.

Sam hummed and growled lowly as he milked himself. He slowly opened his eyes, looking down at you as you smiled up at him. He broke out a smile as well, leaning down and kissed your lips softly. Sam reached for his shirt and cleaned the mess off of you. Tossing the shirt somewhere on the floor he pulled your naked form close to him.

“I’m glad you took a day off from school.” Sam chuckled, you laid your head on his chest listening to his heart beat.

"Hmm, me too.“ You hummed out and slowly fell asleep.

A few days passed, you blushed as Sam hugged you a good-bye. "I put my number in your phone, text or call whenever you need me.” He whispered during the hug.

You nodded as you pulled away from the tall male and waved good-bye as the two boys climbed into the 1967 ChevyImpala and drove off. “So, I was doing laundry last night.” Jody mentioned. “I couldn’t help but notice a stain on your sheets.”

A blush crept upon your face once again as sex talk was coming. “Did Sam wrap it?” Jody questioned.

"Oh my gosh, Jody.“ You squeaked out only to stop talking.

“Y/N, we do not need a little Winchester running around here.” Jody dug into her pocket and tossed you a small foil package. “For next time.” She winked.

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