Warnings/Promises: hastily written smut, suit!Dean, some dirty talk, multiple orgasms, fluffy-ish ending, no cut and NSFW (no gifs, just the text is SUPER smutty)
Word Count: 590
Note: It was move-in week, so this is super short. But it’s also very to the point. Enjoy!
Case-forced celibacy was the worst. It made everybody antsy and short-tempered. Mistakes were made. Things were said that weren’t true. Other things were left unsaid. So when those cases ended, you welcomed the idea of not being able to walk for a week.
“Come here.”
You did as Dean told you, stepping to the spot on the floor he was pointing to. It brought you chest-to-chest with him. He was clothed in his suit while yours had already piled on the floor. You hissed as he yanked your head back by your hair and sucked at your neck. He walked forward until your back crashed into your bedroom wall making some pictures rattle. Your hands frantically pulled at his suit shirt, but he batted your hands away. When you persisted, he tossed you onto the bed and pinned your wrists above your head.
“No,” he growled. “It’ll be better if you don’t try to move. Because I am going to make you cum and cum and cum until you can’t move anyway.” He silenced any rebuttal by ravaging your mouth until you couldn’t breathe. His hands gripped at your hips while his bucked. You could feel how hot and hard he was through the cloth. “Y/N,” he moaned against your skin. Rough, nipping kisses crossed down your body as his hands traveled up to your breasts. Those bright green eyes stayed on the placement of your wrists, smirking when you grabbed onto the headboard.
You shrieked. Dean dove int your sex. He lapped and sucked and hungrily did everything in his power to make you arch off the bed. His hands abandoned your breasts to control your thighs. He kept them from clamping around his head, spreading them as wide as your sore muscles could handle. Dean growled into you as you begged.
“Keep talkin’, Y/N. It’s the only voice you’re going to have for a while after this.”
Already he was making good on his promise. You were crying out when Dean curled two fingers into your heat. Whimpers. Screams. Mewling. Groveling. He wanted it all. And he took it all in exchange for mind-blurring pleasure. By the time he was crawling up your body again, you had come at least three times and you could barely feel your legs. At some point, he had shed his shirt and you could see his sweat-glistening muscles from under lidded eyes.
The sound of his zipper brought you back from faded consciousness.
A wrangled puff of air was all you could give as he thrust into you in one breath. You held onto the headboard for dear life as Dean fucked you as hard as you needed it. As desperately as he needed it. The headboard thumped wildly against the wall. Skin on skin was occasionally overcome by Dean’s grunts or your hoarse screams. Your body was raging. Your toes, fingertips, and nipples were cold. Dean’s eyes were still watching you. Blazing and intense enough to make you come at his bidding. He fell forward and took your hands, bringing you almost nose to nose. His eyes finally closed while his hips stuttered.
You were crushed under his weight, not that you cared. Your hands were your own once again. Dean gasped as you clawed down his back and flexed your walls, not that he cared. Neither of you cared what had been said or unsaid during the case.
The Reader summons a demon for an act of revenge. When he shows up, there is an alternate price than she was expecting, but one she is glad to pay.
Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: mentions of emotional abuse, being filmed, SMUT, oral (female receiving), some dirty talk, all the filth
Word Count: 1770
Note: Whew, this got dirty real quick. It wasn’t the fic I started with, but I’m happy with what came out. That’s what happens when I leave my brain unattended. Have an idea to keep my imagination on track? Please send a request! And my tag lists are open too. Hope you enjoy!
“Voco te. Daemonium vindictæ. Uti odium meum. Da in manu mea desiderio meo. Voco te. Venis!” You threw the match into the bowl of ingredients and fell back as it consumed them in a large ball of flame. The drapes on your windows fluttered in an impossible breeze and the air crackled with energy. Then everything stopped. Coming back to your knees, you looked around the room and behind you, but nothing was there. The spell had failed.
“Everything alright there, sweetheart?”
You whipped around to see a man standing in front of your ‘altar.’ Stuttering, you did your best to say you were okay.
“Don’t be so scared. I won’t bite… unless you ask me to.” He winked with a smirk.
“I didn’t call you here for a flirt. I… I need help.”
The man, no, demon looked off in thought. He took a deep breath, then focused his attention back on you. “No.”
“What? But I-“
“I’m not the type of demon that makes deals. If you’re super desperate, I’ll send someone else. But I’m not-“ he stopped when he saw your spell. He picked up the paper you had scribbled it on from your college’s rare books library. “This seems kind of a harsh spell for just help.” He dropped it back to the floor. “Care to explain?”
Here goes nothing.
“My boyfriend… well, my ex… has been harassing me to give him a second chance. I don’t want to go back to him. But he keeps pointing out… very truthfully… that I don’t have anyone else to go to. No chances. Definitely no dates. I don’t need anything permanent, just something or someone to make the creep go away.” Your shoulders dropped and you looked at the floor. “I… I can’t let him take over again. It was hard enough getting away the last time.”
The demon sighed. “And you were going to sell your soul to get rid of this guy?”
You nodded. “I don’t really care where it goes. He’s already taken me to hell and back.” You remained motionless as he thought it over.
He groaned. “Okay, fine. But something like that is going to need a different kind of payment. Although…” his tongue darted out over his lip. “Considering the circumstances, it might just kill two birds with one stone. One for you, and one for the deal.”
The way his black eyes were beginning to rake over your body was making you shiver. You hurried to stand. “And what payment would that be?” You gasped as he was suddenly in front of you with his hand under your chin.
“A kiss.”
It wasn’t the worst thing he could have said, so you hesitantly closed your eyes and pursed your lips.
He chuckled. “Oh, no. If we’re going to show that jerk that you don’t need him, I want to kiss you… elsewhere.” There was the whisper of a cold breeze then you realized you were in your room. The demon poked your shoulder, sending you off balance. You fell onto the bed. “Okay, so three birds. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good fuck.”
You squeaked and tried to make yourself a small as possible. The demon took a step back and raised his hands.
“Here’s the plan: I go down on you while a camera is filming, you get blissed out, and then you send the tape to your ex to show him you can get some.”
“You think that would work?” you asked, leaning up on your forearms.
He smiled, and for a second you thought his black eyes flickered green. “If it doesn’t, then I haven’t held up my end of the deal.” He leaned back over you. “I can always deliver it to him in person and leave a personal message. He’ll be sure to understand that.”
“Just kissing… and you giving me oral? Then we can stop?”
He nodded. “Of course. Unless you want more. Though I have to warn you, it will ruin you for anyone else. And your voice is gonna be shot from begging.”
Your whole body shivered and flushed. You nodded adamantly.
“Okay. I’m Dean, by the way, since you’re going to need a name to scream.” He walked to one side of your bed to clear away a spot. With a snap of his fingers, there was a camera sitting on a tripod pointed at your bed.
“Dean? That doesn’t sound very… demon-ish.” You gulped when he stared you down. “I was expecting something… a little more ancient sounding?”
Dean shed his shirt layers. He sat next to you and guided you to straddle his hips. “I’m not that old. You ready?”
“Mhmm.”
“Good.” He snapped his fingers again and your clothes disappeared. The sudden red flashing on the camera was ignored as his lips gently pressed against yours. His hands kneaded your sides before making their way up to your breasts. You broke the kiss with a gasp as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. He sucked on your neck since your head was thrown back, humming as he went. The vibrations did wonders to your sweet spot. Dean moved on, mouthing across your collarbone and down between your breasts. You moaned as he nipped the tops of the swells. His chuckle rumbled through you and he guided you to roll your hips. Your chest heaved while the sparks began to work through your nerves.
“Dean,” you sighed.
“That’s it Y/N, tell me what you need.”
You moved your hips faster, grinding against the growing hardness trapped in his jeans. Dean rolled to meet you. Your toes curled, and you slumped into his chest with the sweetest orgasm you think you’d ever had. He turned to lay you on the bed and sank to his knees. You squeaked as he dragged you to the end so the juncture of your thighs was right in front of his face. He guided your hand to his head so your fingers could weave into his hair.
“Guide me.”
A chill set into your skin. Underneath, your body was steaming as Dean rubbed his scruff along the inside of your thighs. You were going to have beard burn; that was going to be new. There wasn’t room for any more expectations. Dean trapped your thighs around his head and spread your pussy lips. He inhaled deeply, then flattened his tongue against you. You arched, eyes already rolling back in your head as he continued. He was slurping loudly, unapologetically. Like he was destined to be there.
The buzzing was there. Simmering under the surface. If he did one or two things, this was going to be a short video.
Dean sucked down on your clit. He growled as your thighs clamped around his head, uncaring of oxygen or the lack thereof. His actions stuttered as you pulled on his hair. That spurred him on, though, and he doubled his efforts. You felt your world tilt as he stood and pinned your knees to his shoulders. With the blood rushing to your head, you felt apart with a hazy shout of his name. Your back was replaced on your sheets and you scrambled to pull him close.
“More,” you breathed. “Please, Dean. More?”
“Are you sure, sweetheart? I have warned you.” His smug smile did nothing but make you whine louder. “Alright, prepare yourself, honey.”
As if you could have.
You cried out as he sheathed into you in one thrust. He gave only a moment’s hesitation for you adjust, then set a brutal pace. The longer and faster he went the louder you screamed. Dean hooked his hands behind your knees and pinned them nearly to your chest. The deepened angle blinded you. And since you couldn’t see, you could feel everything. Your bodies snapping and slapping together. Your high-pitched whines and blubbering. His grunts and growls.
There was something ironic with how a demon was fucking you in a missionary position. Or so you thought. Then you weren’t thinking anything when Dean sucked on your nipples and toyed with your clit.
You were driven higher than you thought possible. Your legs began to shake uncontrollably.
“Dean. Dean. Dean,” you chanted.
“Yes, Y/N?”
The jerk was barely winded and here you were getting fucked within an inch of your life. So you contracted your walls and scratched your nails down his chest. Dean gave a roar and flipped you on top.
“You want to be in control then? Fine. See if you can cum from up there.” He had a death grip on your hips. Each upward thrust brought you closer and closer. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. And you couldn’t come. Something was keeping you half a step away. You keened loudly. “Something the matter, Y/N?”
“Please let me cum. Please.”
Dean hummed and slammed you down on his cock, holding you there. “I don’t know. We’ve technically already sealed the deal. And you’ve cum once, already. Maybe I should go home?”
“No. No, please. Dean, please.” You squeezed your eyes shut and did your best to wiggle your hips in his grasp. “Feel so good. You haven’t cum. Please don’t leave me like this. Dean-“
He cut you off at a shout. Again, the pace was fast, relentless and hard. You could feel the bruises forming on your hips before he reached one hand up for your breast and the other down to your clit. He had to catch you as you arched and almost fell off the bed. He followed you a few thrusts later, gasping roughly and digging his nails into your skin.
Your sheets were pulled over your body and a pillow placed under your head. Dean was dressed in a snap. Or what could have been a snap. Your vision was blurry.
“That good, huh?” He placed a bottle of water on your nightstand. “Don’t fall asleep without finishing that.” Soon he had the camera and appeared ready to go.
You glared at the camera. “I don’t know if I want to share that now.”
Dean smirked. “Don’t worry. He’s only going to get one view to get off on, then it’ll erase itself. Mission impossible style.” He raised his hand to snap again but held off. “One more thing.” Your phone was in his hand a second later as he typed in his number.
“Demons have cell phones now?”
“Welcome to the technical age, sweetheart.” He tossed the phone to you. “If you have any more deals, or just want to have some fun, call me up.”
Marvel: Bucky Barnes, Erik Killmonger, Kevin Ford, Loki, Steve Rogers, and Ulysses Klaue
Supernatural: Dean and Sam Winchester, Castiel, and Lucifer
WWE: 205 Live, Baron Corbin, Buddy Murphy, Cesaro, Elias Samson, Finn Balor, Jack Gallagher, Mojo Rawley, Neville, Noam Dar, Roman Reigns, Sami Zayn, Samoa Joe, Sheamus, Tommaso Ciampa, and either Uso.
I can write more characters as they are requested (like I have for Elliot Spencer, Eggsy Unwin, Sherlock, Tim McGee, and Tony DiNozzo).
Please let me know at any time if you would like to be added to a tag list. (By request or personal message.) And you can request a fic about anyone on this too! You don’t have to be shy. My only uncrossable lines are underage readers (18+ only) underaged characters, ships, or cheating. I try to write for you guys as much as I write for me.
As a defense against demons, the Reader comes up with an Enochian spell. Cas suggests testing it on him. It works, but you also find another steamier use.
Pairing: Castiel x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: SMUT, bondage (sorta?)
Word Count: 1430
Note: This took me three tries to write because I wanted it just perfect. Let me know if you think I reached that point or even close! My tag lists and requests are open. I’ve also started to reblog fics that I’ve enjoyed. [See my #ReadItForward and #WritersReadingWriters tags] I may be opening a massive can of worms, but if read something wonderful, reblog it and tag me ‘cause I’d like to check it out too! As for this fic, I hope you guys like it. Enjoy!
If you hadn’t thought Sam had the library bugged, you would have thrown the book across the room. You’d been staring at it so long the letters were starting to blur together.
“Y/N?” Cas was suddenly sitting across from you.
“Cas! Can you please not do that?” You took a deep breath to cool off your adrenaline. “I thought you were on the case with the boys?”
He nodded. “Yes. But they are finishing up and will head out in the morning.” He leaned forward and looked over the book. “Light reading?” His head tilted in confusion when you sighed. “What’s wrong?”
“I-“
Were you really going to tell him? Yes. Yes, you were.
“I’m trying to come up with a spell that will pin something to… somewhere. Like the demons do to us. We can’t put demon traps everywhere, and they aren’t any good against a spontaneous attack. I don’t trust Latin or Arimathean, or even Sanskrit, so I’m trying to better my Enochian.”
He nodded sagely. “That sounds like a good idea. But I take it from your earlier prayer of frustration that it is not going well.”
You looked off into the room with a blush. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to call you. The… lack of progress got to me I guess.”
“I am always attuned to your emotions.” He cleared his throat. “And Dean’s and Sam’s too, of course.”
“Of course.” The dry pages rustled as you rubbed them between your fingers in the silence.
“Would… would you like some… help?” He drummed on the table while you hummed in confusion. “For making an Enochian spell, the key thing is getting the rhythm right and purpose right. What you’ve got written down is too much. All that text ensures success, but with enough effort behind it, you only need a few words. You’re half a step away. Would you like… my… help to make the spell?”
You bit your lips. “I would appreciate that.”
Cas flicked around to sit beside you. He guided you through the book and helped you whittle down your work. Several hours later he had shed his coat and had rolled up his sleeves. He stood on the far side of the library, waiting to try out the spell. You read the few words, holding one hand towards him though your sight was focused on the scrap paper. Then you heard a soft ‘oompf.’ Cas was against the far wall a few feet off the ground and smiling.
“See? It works.” He landed on his feet as you lowered your hand. “Now read it like you mean it.” He stopped your worries with a calm hand. “You won’t hurt me.” He stepped closer and nodded for you to try again.
This time you brought up the memory of your last run-in with a demon. The adrenaline, the helplessness, the rage of the hunt was enough to send Cas flying backward. He twisted around a bookcase and slid across the floor until his back was against a wall.
“Cas!” You dropped your hand and rushed over to him. “Are okay?” You tried to help him away from the wall, but he flinched as you touched his back. “Sorry. Let me take a look at the damage?” You eased him out of his shirt, flinching yourself when you saw the bruises. “Oh, Cas-“
“I’m fine… see?”
You looked down again and watched the bruises fade away from under your fingertips. Relieved, you pulled your hands away, but Cas took them in his.
“Don’t stop. Please.” His thumb rubbed over your knuckles. You never noticed how warms his hands were before. “I think the same about yours.” He let you go. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to read your mind.”
“Right now, I don’t mind. What am I thinking right now?” Hoping it wasn’t too forward, you pictured his hands spread across your bare shoulders. Yours scratching down his back. Twirling fingers in each other’s hair.
Cas closed his eyes to watch and hummed. “If I would like to share that with you… can I earn it with another test?”
“You’ve already earned it.” With a hesitant breath, you leaned down and lightly brushed your lips against his. His fingers weaved into your air and your felt the room spin. When it had settled, another brush of air alerted you to your lack of clothes. Cas broke away from the kiss and gasped to see you.
His hands reached up to cup your breasts. He thumbed over your nipples, making you gasp. You arched into his touch as he tugged your peak between his teeth. His nails trailed up your thighs, leaving light lines in their wake. You bucked and pleaded for him not to tease. Cas simply chuckled. But he answered your cry with easing a digit into your heat and moaning at the wetness he found. His slow strokes and curls pulled whimpers from your lips but left your release simmering just out of reach. You dug your nails into his back. Cas growled.
“You feel so good, Y/N. Clamping down already. I’ve wanted this… I’ve wanted you for a long time. I will give you everything if you can only be a little patient.”
He was shocked when you flipped him to his back.
“I’ve been waiting too. I will not be patient.” You fought to stay on top as Cas tried to flip again. He was playing with you, making it seem like you had control when he could use his powers at any second. You could handle that. Using the same mental images you’d shown him, and the rising arousal inside you, you flattened your hands on his chest and spoke in Enochian.
Cas’s hands were caught on either side of his head and his body was taunt beneath you. He laughed, his chest rumbling under your touch. “Y/N, I am a celestial being. Sooner or later, I will… reciprocate.”
“I look forward to it.”
You began to slide back and forth across his torso. His length was trapped between his stomach and your slick. You shivered each time the head bumped into your clit. You read somewhere that there are over eight thousand nerve endings in a clit; with Cas trapped under you and his cock still driving you wild, it felt like double that. You shifted your weight and kept one hand on his chest so you could guide his cock into your heat. Your eyes closed in bliss as you sank. Cas moaned with you, quaking when you came to rest on his thighs.
“Y/N-“ He gasped and strained against the spell. It wavered as your walls fluttered. “You feel so perfect, Y/N.” He grunted, and his hips trembled under you.
You raised up and sank back down slow. Your head lolled to your shoulder, and your mouth fell open as you continued. Your nails dug into his chest as you picked up speed. Each time your blood crackled with desire, the air seemed to shimmer. You kept your eyes on Cas. He was panting hard and curling and uncurling his fists. His eyes were half-lidded and his skin had a thin sheen of sweat.
“Cas-“ you sighed.
Cas opened his eyes. They were bright, glowing just beneath the surface. You wanted to see more of that, so you slammed down on his cock as fast as you could.
It was right there. You cried out as Enochian letters glowed under your hand then fractured out. You came when they glowed the brightest before the fade. Cas could move again, and he grabbed your hips first. Your toes were still curling from the first orgasm as he thrust through it. It was hard to breathe, but Cas got you there. He let out a shuddered and jumbled flow of words then pinned your hips to his. Your body gave a jolt with each shot of cum to your walls.
He helped you off his hips to lay next to one another. You draped your arm over his chest, breathing to the rise and fall of his chest. You hummed into his skin and let your eyes close in the afterglow.
“Are you tired?” Cas asked.
“Not completely. Why?”
He rocked his head. “The brothers don’t get back until morning.” He watched you intently and you felt a cool wave of grace flow over your body, searching out the places where you were most sensitive. “I have a spell of my own, or two, that I would like to test. May I?”
When a cursed piano needs playing, the Winchesters find out more about the reader than she wanted them to know.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: secrets revealed, half-mention of loss of family, Supernatural-normal violence, SMUT, some spanking, FLUFF, implied further smut
Word Count: 2040
Note: Saw a cute prompt and came up with this hot mess. One of my more sensual smut writings. Reblogs and comments are fantastic ways to let me know you liked it. Tag lists and requests are open. Please enjoy!
“It’s just a hunt, Sam. I don’t need to learn to play the piano.” You stormed into the library. “Besides, where are we going to find a piano?” You turned to glare at Sam, closely followed by Dean. “Is there one hiding in the bunker?”
Dean pursed his lips. “Um, actually-“
“You can’t be serious.”
He shrugged and nodded his head for you to follow him. He led you to a back room that you could have sworn was filled with more shelves and boxes and dust.
“Sam was looking for some files, like we do, and while I was going through this room,” he opened the door and let you walk in first. “I found… yeah. Cleaned her up.”
It was a baby grand. Dark wood with a healthy shine. Gracefully carved legs. The golden inlays on the backboard caught the light. Under the fall were ivory keys slightly yellowed with age. You ran your fingers over them, smiling at the clear notes they sang with.
“She’s beautiful.” You sat down and looked over the music on the stand. Fur Elise. “Dean, I don’t know.”
He sat down next to you. “You won’t have to play much.” He bit down on his bottom lip and swallowed. “I… I could teach you. Just enough for the hunt.” He waited for your response, but it was caught in your throat. “If you wanted too. I mean, there’s always YouTube, or there’s an app for everything.” He waited with baited breath as you tried to keep your breathing even. Dean sighed and moved to leave.
“No, Dean, wait.” You licked your lips and tried to find the words. “I would… um… appreciate it if you could teach me a little.”
“Sure. Great.”
“Great.”
Sam stood watch by one door. Dean stood at the other. You were by the bar, nursing a whiskey on the rocks, drinking away your nerves. The piano sitting a few feet away was cursed. But, in a good way? If the person played what the piano apparated onto the rack, then any children of Eve (ie. monsters) would lose their ability to hide their forms from hunters, or anybody. This had led to a string of murders of pianists, in various ways meaning various monsters. Usually, the artists had been killed before the show before music could be played, but the last had been killed during an evening party. Her sister had helped get you as the replacement.
And now you had to play and hope that the guys could spot the monsters before they got to you.
Your employer for the evening gave you the signal. You walked up the few steps and sat on the bench. Under your breath, you cursed. The music on the stand changed from Fur Elise, what the last victim had been prompted to play, to Sonata Pathétique. Dean had skipped lessons on reading notes and had gone straight for memorizing the keys to play. You didn’t know this music. You shared a look with him, letting him know the situation.
All eyes were on you. They felt like icicles colliding with your skin from all directions. So, you took a breath.
The Winchesters almost forgot to watch the room as you played. Your hands glided across the keys, filling the room with the mournful tones dancing across the pages. It had been a while since you had to read sheet music, maybe it was like riding a bike, maybe it was the piano. The pages turned themselves, keeping up perfectly with your hesitant-to-practiced tempo.
Dean was so enraptured that he almost missed the vampire standing right next to him. Sam saw the teeth lower out of the man’s gums before either the man or Dean had noticed. When the shifter behind the bar began to shed his skin, the room suddenly emptied with screaming and plenty of pushing and stumbling. You kept playing, keeping the monsters visible. A few of them seemed surprised to see each other. The longer there was music, the less proportionate the room became between hunters and hunted. Thankfully during the bunker’s piano room cleaning, Dean had found a bomb-like item. The pages faded away and you dove behind the piano while the brothers hid behind the bar. When the dust settled, that was all that remained of the creatures.
“It was a shame we had to leave the piano,” you mused, dropping your heels on the library desk. Dean had called some other hunters with a large cursed object storage. It was probably never going to see the light of day again, much less be played. “It was such a beautiful instrument.” Sam went on a mental tangent, wondering if the piano in the bunker and that one were sisters. He left to do research. You cracked your knuckles and avoided looking at Dean.
“How long?”
“Hmm?”
“How long have you known how to play?” Dean’s voice wasn’t hard. Or teasing. More… confused.
You braced yourself on the table. “My mother taught me. I was about to have my senior concert when… I haven’t even looked at a piano since then. Until the other day.” You flinched, surprised when Dean laid his hand over yours. His fingers lightly pressed on your fingernails like he had to ‘teach you.’ “I didn’t mean to hide. I didn’t think I could do it.”
Dean stood behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “But you did.”
It was getting harder to breathe. To think. “It must have been the piano. It knew, Dean. It knew my last recital piece.” He tensed behind you as what you said registered. “We got the monsters, though. That’s what matters.”
“We did.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” He kissed your temple and went to step back. You stopped him by entwining your fingers in his. “Sam’s going to be back in a minute.”
You chuckled. “I doubt it. Research?” You turned to face him. “That could take all night.”
He nodded in agreement. “True. But there’s something I wanted to do first.” He took your hand and took you back to the piano. Before you could sit down, he fumbled around in the bench and found some music. “Close your eyes.” You did and let him guide you to sit down. His shoulder bumped into yours as he joined you. The first few notes he played confused you. By the chorus, you recognized Hey, Jude. Dean started singing on the second stanza.
“Hey Jude, don’t be afraid. You were made to go out and get her. The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better. And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders. For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool, by making his world a little colder.” You opened your eyes for the nahnah’s and saw him looking at you with a small smile. “Hey Jude, don’t let me down. You have found her, now go and get her. Remember to let her into your heart. Then you can start to make it better.”
You joined in for the nah’s and the yeah’s and the ‘hey Jude’s’ that filled up the rest of the song. Dean really got into it and sang the high shouting yeah’s like he was in the recording studio with the Beatles. You smiled and laughed, encouraging him to get wilder with it. By the time he finished, his lips were close to yours and your heart was thundering so heard you could barely feel it.
Dean lightly tapped the tip of his nose against yours. His shallow breathing puffed over your lips. You closed the last distance between you before either of you could change your mind. Everything you didn’t say over the years went into that kiss. It felt natural, giving it all to Dean. To have him listen in such a way where words weren’t needed, and to tell you in the silence that if you ever found the words that he would be there too.
Fingers fumbled with buttons and layers until your fingernails could rake down his torso and leave tiny red welts behind and he could do the same all the way down your back. He reached up under your skirt and made you buck when his fingers brushed over the soaked fabric covering you. You moaned into his mouth as he pushed it aside and began to stroke you, thrust into you, and open you up. Both of you were quickly covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He kissed across the curves of your face down to the hollow of your throat while he thumbed at your clit. You lost sight of his bright green eyes as your thighs tightened around his wrist, shivering and sending ripples through your body.
You closed the cover over the keys while Dean pushed down his slacks and briefs. His fingertips dug into your skin, controlling how fast you sank down onto him. It was a slightly awkward position, straddling him on the bench while he leaned back against the piano, but you were too focused on bringing back the earlier high to care.
He groaned as you tugged on the short hairs at the base of his neck. You whined, begging him to let you move but he adamantly held you down. He chuckled as you pouted against his lips. When you wouldn’t let him in, he smirked and gave you just enough of a thrust to make you gasp. He swallowed your cries as he continued to hold you right where he wanted. Finally, he had his feet planted firmly enough on the floor. You gripped his shoulders tightly for stability while he gave you what you wanted.
The edges of the bench dug into your shins, but you didn’t care. The room was stuffy and if felt like every particle of dust was collecting on your skin, but you didn’t care. You could tumble onto the floor at any second, but you didn’t care.
Dean could take you on the floor if he wanted too, as long as he kept moving.
Soon you had control and was bouncing with reckless abandon. Your eyes were heavy, and you fought to keep them open, so you could watch Dean. His lips were parted, panting, and perfectly pink like the tint in his cheeks. Your skin was probably equally flushed. To you it felt like ice, so cold it burned and sparked where ever Dean touched you. You jolted again. His touch trailed down your stomach, bypassing your sex to cross over your thighs and work back to your ass. You yelped shortly after the loud crack. Dean sputtered as your walls clamped down on his cock.
“You like that, Y/N?” He gasped and pressed his forehead into the valley of your breasts as you squeezed again. “I’ll save that info for later.”
“Please…” you begged. You reached down towards your front, but Dean beat you to it. Stars spotted your vision. You were so close. So. Close. The ringing in your ears barely let you hear what he was saying.
“Let go, Y/N. Cum for me, darling.”
With a short scream, you grappled at any of Dean that you could reach. He quickly followed you, pulling out to shoot onto your stomach. Some landed on him, dribbling down his soft stomach as it flexed. He waited for you to catch your breath before helping you off his lap to sit beside him.
You wanted more, whether your body could take it or not.
“When do I get round two?” you hummed, bringing Dean’s hand up to eye level and intertwining your fingers.
“My room or yours, sweetheart?”
“Hmm. Shower. We’re both sweaty and dusty.” You tried once to stand but almost fell over. “Then I’ll pick.” You braced yourself on his shoulder while your legs wobbled underneath you.
He chuckled at the sight. “I’m just going to get you all sweaty again if that’s what you want.”
“Deal.” You grabbed your clothes off the floor and stopped at the door. “Are you going to help me conserve water?”
Sam makes the observation that the reader is louder watching wrestling than in bed. She challenges him by saying he is too loud to hear her. The reader comes up with a way for him to finally hear her, and benefits from it.
Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: SMUT, alternate to ball gag, Dean interrupting cuddling
Word Count: 1330
Note: Again, I am guilty of writing in class instead of taking notes. Oh well, here’s a Sam smut that I hope you guys will enjoy. My friends always check on my voice after a night of watching wrestling, since I’m not so loud during the day. Let me know if you’re the same or the opposite, or any mix in between. Also let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list. And my requests are open! Don’t be shy, and hope you like this.
“Come on, Ambrose, you’ve got this!”
It didn’t matter that it was an old match with an ending you already knew; the point of watching wrestling was to destress. To get yourself relaxed after a hunt so you could sleep. Usually, the mere size of the bunker buffered your shouts from bothering the Winchesters, but your room wasn’t completely soundproof.
“I don’t understand how you can be quiet as a mouse every other second of the day, then create noise as loud as that.” Sam stood in your open doorframe. You didn’t hear him come in.
You paused the match and looked up at him sheepishly. “Sorry, Sam. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
Sam smirked. “No. If I can sleep through a lifetime of Dean’s snores, I can sleep through anything when it’s safe to. Which match is it?” You made space on your bed for him and gave him a quick summery of the feud leading up to the match. He watched your computer screen and occasionally glanced at you when you let out a particularly intense reaction. He got into it eventually but kept his reactions to flexing when someone took a hard bump.
“You’re doing it again,” you said after one such flex.
“Huh?”
You poked at his arm as he flexed again. “That. Right against me.”
Sam poked you back. “Am I distracting you from your match?” He laughed high and free as you stuck your tongue out at him. “Careful, Y/N, or I’ll find some better use for that tongue. Make you really scream.”
Ambrose and Rollins froze and the match went to black as you closed your laptop. “Is that so? Even if you could make me scream,” you gasped as Sam flipped you beneath him. His eyes glowed with promise, daring you to continue. “…you wouldn’t be able to hear it over how loud you are.”
“I can’t help it,” he said. He leaned down and breathed over the hollow of your throat before whispering in your ear, “you always feel so good. Take me so well. Make me lose my mind.” He shifted to plant his knee between your thighs, keeping you from rubbing them together. He smirked as you angled your hips to rub up and down on this thigh instead. “Is that an invitation to try again? To make you feel so wonderful?”
You were already soaked, and he technically hadn’t touched you yet. “Yes.” You tilted your head to give Sam more room to suck on your neck. Clothes were removed, chill bumps were raised, and your bodies were covered in open-mouthed kisses. You ran your fingers up into your hair as Sam reached down between your legs. Heat was already present in your cheeks and hot ice was in your veins. He stroked you, curling and thrusting in every way that made your heart thump wildly in your chest. Your eyes closed as the first wave of bliss ran through you. Sam hummed at your breathy sigh.
“That,” he said, sucking your juices off his fingers, “was not loud.”
In your post-orgamsic haze, you came up with an idea. Sam leaned with your touch as you pushed him to his back. Leaning across his body, you grabbed your discarded panties off the floor. You balled up the fabric and arched your eyebrow at Sam. He grinned. Then he opened his mouth and accepted the make-shift gag. It must have tasted strongly of you, having been soaked earlier, because he hummed around it and gripped at your hips like he does when he is particularly pleased.
His eyes widened as you sank onto his length, mouth hanging open and breathless. He stayed still as you worked your way down. With each drop, you let your inhibitions drop away and let your voice do what it wanted to. Maybe it was watching WWE right before, maybe it was because you knew how intently Sam was listening, but this time you were louder. You stopped once he was fully sheathed and propped yourself on his chest. He curled his hands over yours and gave them a tight squeeze before moving them to your hips. You were so full you didn’t realize what he was planning.
You screamed as he lifted you and slammed up into you. It was more shock than delight… the first time. Sam kept going, pulling from you a series of different screams you didn’t know you had in you. He growled through the ‘gag’ as your fingers curled, digging your nails into his skin. Your eyes darted from the red welts to his eyes. And stayed there. You saw the lustful darkness there. Then the roll of them as he tried to hold off. You bounced faster, shivering as your release danced closer. Sam twisted and got you there. Your vision dropped out and missed seeing him watch enraptured by you.
While you were catching your breath, he flipped you beneath him. His arms curled under you, and he reached up to the back of your head. Gingerly, he angled you to look up at him. He removed the gag and kissed you. You sighed as he began to roll his hips again. Slower. Intently. He licked at the sweat collected in the hollow of your throat.
The hoarseness in the back of your throat didn’t bother you. All the same, you slipped back into your soft sighs and mewls. Sam kissed his was across your jaw and rested his head on your shoulder. You licked his ear right next to your mouth. His hands gripped you tight. All the while, he thrust languidly accented with a few losses of composure. You felt him smile against your skin as those moments made you gasp out.
Sam lost himself in those gasps. He started to do everything he could to make you make that sound over and over again. You keened as he bit lightly onto your shoulder, muffling his own noises. You ran your fingers through his hair and pulled him back to look at you.
“I want to hear you, Sam. Please. Don’t hold back anymore.” You smiled at him. He nodded and ran his thumb over your bottom lip.
You arched as he moved faster. His grunts and growls filled the air, mixing with the sound of his hips crashing into yours. Using you arch, he nipped at the underside of your neck. You met him thrust for thrust, making Sam toss his head back. Using the chance, you returned the kiss, mouthing over his Adam’s apple where it bobbed in his throat. He whined and rubbed at your clit, sending you over the edge with an echoing high-pitched cry. Sam followed soon after, then fell to one side of you.
Over his heaving chest, you laid one hand and curled into his side.
“Damn,” he breathed.
You hummed in agreement.
There was a buzzing. Sam groaned and leaned half off the bed to search through his clothes. He chuckled and answered Dean’s call.
“When the two of you are done fucking like rabbits, we’ve got a case,” Dean growled.
“You couldn’t just come to the door?” Sam kissed the side of your head as Dean disagreed.
“And risk having to hear round whatever up close? No thanks.” Dean paused. “Is Y/N at least alive?”
You grinned and took the phone from Sam. “Barely. We’ll be out in a few.” You hung up before he could say anything else. The phone plopped into Sam’s clothes while you snuggled him for a few more seconds. “We should get ready.”
“We should.” Sam stroked your hair then rolled out from under your touch. He started to put on his clothes. You caught him smiling and arched an eyebrow at him. “Now that we know that I can be somewhat quiet, and I know you can be quiet, do you want to not wait till we get back here from the hunt to… try that again?”
Note: Something to warm us up while it’s cold outside. Please let me know if you liked it with comments and reblogs. I really appreciate feedback and it encourages me to write more. If you like my style, both my requests and tag lists are open. Now, please enjoy!
“Seriously,” Dean shouted at the sky. It was roiling with dark clouds and rumbling. A few seconds later you were both drenched in the downpour. “Son of a bitch! If I didn’t hate this case already-“
You left Dean to his grumbling and continued searching the woods for the shifter. It had been attacking campers. Your ears were filled with the static of water hitting wet leaves and soggy undergrowth. The rain was coming down so hard, the leaf cover did nothing to help. You could barely see five feet in front of you. Bursts of winds chilled you to your bones. Your shivering almost made your vision blurry with the vibrations.
“Dean?” you called out. “Can you see anything?”
“He can’t see much of anything at the moment.”
The shifter gripped your shoulder and sent you flying into the closest tree. Faster than you could recover, she had your arms bound in a rope that kept them spread out around the trunk. Through the rain, you could see she wore a jacket similar enough to yours that Dean or Sam wouldn’t notice. You were thankful for the curtain of precipitation as she shed the last of her former skin and took your form. It sickened your stomach to see your smile stretched back into a smirk.
“I’m sure by now my husband has borrowed your partner’s form to find the third one. Sam, right? Dean is going to watch his brother die, and then I’m going to kill him as you. Oh!” She gripped her chest as you strained against the ropes. “I felt that. Ah, he’s your… good to know we will be preventing any baby hunters from coming after our future generations.” She twisted away from you towards a shout from back the way you came. The rain static was so loud you couldn’t identify whose it was. The shifter laughed in triumph and ran off towards the noise.
You wanted to call out to either Winchester, but you also strained to hear anything else. A shout from you might help the shifter’s charade. If you could hear when she arrived, maybe you could alert the guys it wasn’t you.
Boots on wet dirt came towards you and a Dean-like figure came into view. His face was splattered with blood. You struggled against the ropes.
“Y/N! It’s me.” He came close enough to you could see his eyes. They were wild with the hunt but also filled with a gleam that could only be him.
“How’d you get loose?” you asked as he cut you free.
“Sam showed up too early for the husband to take me out. I got the wife when she tried to attack Sam.”
“And none left for me. Some ‘love of my life’ you turned out to be.” You failed to keep a straight face through your chastisement.
Dean mirrored your smile and wrapped his arms around your waist. “I know. You just despise me. I wonder if Vegas Elvis does divorces too.”
You poked him hard in the chest. “Don’t you dare. Annoying as you are, you’re stuck with me and no amount of Dean-shenanigans is going to get rid of me.”
Dean laughed and held your hand on the way back to Sam. “Since when do you say ‘shenanigans?’”
Sam was just finishing up with the bodies when you regrouped. He took their car to town to tell the local sheriff what happened and to pick up the extra car from the bunker. You and Dean headed back straight from the woods. The case was one of the few ones that happened close to the bunker, only a few hours away. You slept for most of it, even though you offered to trade with Dean if he wanted to rest. He woke you by shaking your shoulder gently.
“We’re home, sweetheart.”
He led you to the shower and helped you out of your damp clothes. The mirrors were soon fogged with steam that flushed your skin and made you want to melt. The water cascaded off of Dean onto you as he stood directly under the shower head. Your own Winchester waterfall.
It started out innocently enough.
You were spreading soap across his chest while he was doing the same to you when your thumbs flicked over his nipples. He gasped a little, then passed the sensation along to you. It became a game. You ran your hands up his shoulders so you could play with the short hairs on the back of his neck. His hands sank down to your hips, then around so he could squeeze your ass. Each tug or squeeze caused a moan or sound of delight. Dean’s eyes, newly wild with desire, raked over your form as you leaned in to nip at his chest. You watched his lips as they descended to your neck to gentle suck at your sweet spot.
“Dean,” you sighed.
“Yep.” He turned off the water just as it was beginning to get cold. He wrapped you in a fluffy towel and played with a water droplet on your nose. “You’re all wet.”
You hummed in agreement. “Maybe you should warm me up so I don’t catch a cold.”
Next thing you knew you were over his shoulder and bouncing down the hallway to the bedroom. You gave his still naked ass a light tap as he made it to the door. He dropped you and pinned you against the outside.
Dean let out a low growl as you let the towel gather at your ankles. It stayed in the hall while he backed you into the room, kissing you and feeling your skin under his hands all the way. He kept moving you back until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you fell back. Dean leaned down to kiss up your stomach. He worked up to your collarbone and then back down to one of your breasts. He blew gently on the bud, hardening it further in arousal. He latched his lips around it, even as you backed up further onto the bed. By the time you made it to the pillows, Dean had shifted his attention to the other one, while palming the first. He smiled against your skin while he listed to you pant. You whimpered as he pulled away.
Your whimpers collapsed into mewls as his fingers danced up and down our thighs before collecting some of your slick.
“Hmm, still so wet. Guess I need to continue to warm you up.”
Within a few strokes and curls and the addition of a second finger, you were bucking to meet his movements. The remnants of the shower had been replaced with sweat, on you and Dean. For while he worked you, you worked him. He shuddered when you twirled your thumb around the tip of his cock. He fucked you faster with his fingers, spreading your arousal up to your clit. His hips jumped as you gave his length a tight squeeze.
“Please, Dean. Need you.” You batted his hand away and guided him into your heat.
You arched with a cry as he snapped his hips forward to bottom out. You continued to cry out, begging for more as Dean kept a languid pace. You raked your fingernails down his back. Moaned loudly into the kiss you gave him. Contracted your walls. Anything to make him move faster. With that, he finally took your wordless plea and snapped his hips to meet your bucking ones. Dean’s grunts in your ear sent you tumbling over the edge, pulling him with you with your walls clamped hard around his length.
He pulled out and helped you settle to lay your head on his chest. You traced invisible designs into his skin as your eyes drooped.
“We almost need another shower,” Dean murmured into your hair.
“Sam will complain if we take all the hot water.”
You convinced him to get ready for bed instead. Pajamas found. Hair combed. Teeth brushed. Dean gargled until you giggled. You kept brushing against one another during the night routine up to spooning under the thick blankets. Dean’s arm wrapped possessively around your waist, and his chin rested on your shoulder. You curled your fingers in his, then fell asleep, warm and protected.
Y/N gets dragged to a boxing match by her friends where she meets Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester, a boxer who is forced to win or lose depending on how much money his bosses want to make in matches. Can their combined effort break the fixed boxing ring? [Series Masterlist]
The Mark keeps Dean awake again, so the reader does her best to take his mind off it.
Pairing: MOC!Dean x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: bit of angst, SMUT
Word Count: 1360
Note: Its finals where I am, so have a study Dean to help you relax at the end of your tests. As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Tags and requests are open, and I will have time to do some real work now that winter break is upon us. Enjoy!
When you reached back for Dean, he wasn’t there.
For a split second your mind raced with every worst-case scenario you had ever thought of. Leaving the life and you all in one night. Getting taken by some monster looking for power or a bargaining chip. The Mark taking over.
You took a deep breath. Opening your eyes in the darkness, the door was open and you could see the faint glimmer of light coming from the library. You wrapped a blanket around you and followed the glow to find him.
Dean was slumped over a lore book, one hand on a bottle of beer, and the other stretched out enough to where the Mark peaked out from under his robe. His eyebrows were almost touching. His green eyes, pale in his fury, darted back and forth across the page. You knew it wasn’t there. The information how to remove the Mark. He knew it wasn’t there. “But maybe we missed something” was always on his mind.
“Dean?” Your soft voice carried quickly, startling him. “Shh, it’s just me.” Your feet thumped across the wood flooring as you came to stand behind him. Dean leaned back into your touch as you worked your hands under the collar of his robe and began to massage his neck.
“You should be asleep,” he mumbled. He sounded so… broken.
“So should you.” You reached down for his hand and tugged it with you as you took a step towards the hallway. “Come back to bed.”
Dean twisted his wrist out of your grip. “Won’t do any good. Go back to sleep, Y/N.” He turned back to the book and seemed to forget you were in the room.
You stood there for a second, hovering between taking his suggestion/order and coming up with something to get his mind off the Mark. “You have an idea,” your brain provided. Now wasn’t really the time. It’s the perfect time. It’s midnight.
“Hey, Dean.” Your voice sounded stronger than you felt.
Dean’s jaw dropped as you dropped the blanket from around your shoulders. Sleeping in the same bed as Dean was like living with an electric blanket, so there was never a need for clothes.
“And if my memory serves me correctly,” you walked over to him as he scooted his chair back, “this is your favorite robe for a reason.” With a gentle tug on the sash and a flick of the wrist, you opened up Dean’s robe to find that he wasn’t wearing clothes either. Your tongue dashed out to wet your lips. “See something you like, Winchester?” Dean let out a shuddered breath as you ran your finger up his aroused length.
“Sweetheart, I was ready for you the moment you walked in the room.”
The question was out before you thought it through. “Then why didn’t you come to bed?”
Dean looked away. His arm with the Mark tensed and he gripped the armrest till his fingers were white. “I… I don’t want…”
You pushed the robe off his shoulders and down his arms. “You’re not going to hurt me, Dean.” You bent your knees till you were sitting on his lap. He still wouldn’t look at you, so you kissed along his jawline until his mouth found its way to yours.
“What did I do to deserve you?”
“Everything.”
Your heart began to beat wildly in your chest as he gripped your waist and kissed you harder. Rushed. Hungry. Needy. His length was trapped between you, radiating heat that igniting inside you a need of your own.
Dean ignored your squeak of surprise as he stood with your legs wrapped around his waist. You helped him scoot the book and beer out of the way, uncaring of any noise that might wake Sam. Dean sank to his knees despite your efforts to stop him.
“I’m supposed to be helping you,” you rasped.
Dean nuzzled his nose to the inside of your thigh. “Trust me, this will.” He kissed the top of your mound, just above your clit, then began to meticulously take you apart.
In another life, if Dean Winchester had been an incubus, he could have ruled the world. Even as you held your hand over your mouth to silence your moaning, the obscene slurping and lapping coming from Dean echoed through the library. Your knuckles were white where you gripped onto the table. A warm haze settled over you. He was taking it slow, but this only heightened every sensation. Where his fingers dug into your thighs, there would be bruises in the morning. The blue and purple marks would make him fret, but you would wear them like badges of honor. Not that you could think that far in advance at the moment. The twist and playfulness of his tongue in your pussy was draining all thoughts from your head except one.
Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean.
“Keep calling my name like that, Y/N, and I won’t make it to the main event.” Dean chuckled and made you gasp as he curled two fingers into your heat. His other hand snaked its way up your body, laving trails of icy fire in their wake. With him half stretched over you, you couldn’t thrash or buck up to meet his face. A loud keen fell from your lips as Dean began to play with your breasts. He alternated sucking lightly on your clit and running his tongue along next to his fingers.
“Please. Please. Please,” you chanted, finally finding the strength to curl your fingers into his hair.
Dean growled. He sucked hard on your clit and pistoned his fingers in and out of you. Then he was on his feet, kissing you as you screamed into his mouth. He prolonged your orgasm into another as he continued to pump and curl his fingers over your sweet spot. Dean chuckled as you melted into the table. You caught his arm and rubbed your thumb over the mark. His skin prickled under your touch.
“Don’t go.”
You ignored the dark circles under his eyes. The seemingly permanent crease in his brow. The heavy droop in his head. You fought to keep your eyes open so he could see everything you couldn’t say out loud in them.
He broke the gaze but nodded. You leaned up with him to sit on the edge of the table and to press your forehead against his. His hands remained on either side of you flat on the table as you guided his length to your entrance. With one shuddered breath, Dean thrust into you. Then there it is. The starvation for control. You give it to him.
Hips snap against you. Fingertips leap to your hips. Dean’s grunts and your moans fill the air. The table slides a little with each thrust, but Dean keeps chasing you and release. One of your hands claws at the small of his back, pulling him closer. The other grips at the Mark, covering it up so all Dean can hear and see and feel is you. The feeling of your walls fluttering around him. How tightly your eyes are closed now in bliss. Your whimpers and begging gasps of breath for more. More of him. Only him.
Your body shivers and your toes curl to the cramping point as Dean twists his hips to hit the spot that sends you over the edge. Your legs quiver around Dean’s hips when he stills and holds you on him while his release coats your walls. Dean finally slumps over you, raised up just enough not to crush you, not that you would mind. His chest heaves down to yours puffing up.
You whine as his warmth disappears, replaced by the colder robe that smells like him. Dean wraps your blanket around his hips and carries you back to bed.
“I love you, Dean,” you whisper with a yawn. Dean strokes your hair until you’re asleep, clasping tightly onto his arm wrapped around your waist.
“I love you too, Y/N.” Then he’s out like a light, barely leaving a hair’s breadth between you in the bed.
The reader is trying to cook, but she can’t reach anything in the cabinets.
Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: fluff, implied smut
Word Count: ~515
Note: For all my short readers, we’ve been here. Tall readers you can still read this and laugh at our troubles with Sam. Lucky. If you like the fic, let me know with comments and reblogs and… likes. If you want to be put on a tag list, or have a request, shoot me a message!
“Seriously, Winchesters?” You groaned as you tried to reach the casserole dish on the top shelf. “If you two would just stay out of my kitchen, I could reach everything.” With a growl you took a chair and stood on it. You also grabbed a few more things to replace at lower levels later. “This is my kitchen, and I’ll be damned if Dean moves things around again.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that. He thinks the kitchen is his.” Sam chuckled from his leaning position in the doorway when you almost fell off your perch. “If you needed help, you could’ve just asked.”
You crossed your arms. “But I don’t want to have to ask. I want to be able to reach everything without assistance.” You squinted at him as his face twitched with a grin. “What? Stop looking at me like that.”
“But you’re cute.”
“Sam shut up.”
“What? You’re just adorable. And tiny.” His sweet smile finally shined through. No, Y/N. You’re mad at him.
“I am average height, Winchester. Average. Height! You’re just ridiculously tall!”
He stepped closer to you. Balanced as you were, you didn’t have anywhere to go. “I don’t think you are, Y/N. If you were, you wouldn’t need a whole chair to stand eye to eye with me.” He stepped close enough to prove his point. It worked out better than he thought. You bobbed up on your tiptoes to actually glare at his level. He laughed at your movements. The cute one that sounded like bells that only happened when he was really feeling carefree.
“Your cute laugh isn’t going to make me less angry, stop hugging me, put me down! Put me down!” Sam lifted you up and scooted the chair out of the way. He sat you on the counter and stood between your parted legs. “No. I’m not kissing you. I’m mad at you for-“ You were cut off with a kiss. He broke away for a second, then cut you off again, repeating as needed until you leaned forward to follow his retreating lips. Your hands roamed up to the nape of his neck where your fingers could curl in his hair.
Then a thought popped into your head. A memory.
You placed a finger on Sam’s lips and pushed him away. “Dean didn’t put those dishes that high, did he? He never uses these dishes, nor can he reach the back of the top shelf either.” He averted his gaze, dimples making an appearance. “Sam?” you asked, drawing out his name.
“A guy likes to feel needed.” He leaned down to rest his forehead on yours.
“You could’ve just asked,” you repeated at him.
“Can I ask for something else first?”
You nodded, humming in delight.
Sam nuzzled his nose to yours then whispered in your ear, “will you come with me to my room?”
“Only if you help me off the counter first.” You squealed as he lifted you up where you could wrap your legs around his hips.
Dinner preparations were on hold until further notice.
Our Deepest Desires 