๨ৠââËâš â 7 minutes in heaven 18+
word count : 2800 genre : suggestive/smut
pairing : stanford!sam winchester x reader
summary : you play 7 minutes in heaven , and sam's bottle ends on you.
warnings : suggestive!smut, making out, a little bit of grinding, fluff if you squint, shy sammy, not proofread
This party was a mistake; a big mistake.
When your friend had first approached you about joining her at a frat party, youâd turned her down. Told her it wasnât your scene.
That you much preferred staying home, curled up in your bed, with a good book.
But, she wasn't taking no for an answer. So in the end, you'd caved
Letting her convince you to go to a party was your first mistake; letting her dress you, your second.
Never in your life have you felt more uncomfortable. Clad in a way too short denim skirt that only barely manages to cover your ass, and a black, lacy top you're not even sure can be categorized as such. The thin straps so flimsy, you're sure they'll snap in half before they night is over.
You're nursing a red cup of stale beer, when your friend grabs your hand, and tries to drag you off towards the corner of the room. Looking over, you find a small group of people, sitting in a circle, with a bottle in the middle.
You begin shaking your headâa 'No' already prodding your lipsâwhen she sends you a pleading look. Silently cursing her when you give up, and let yourself reluctantly get dragged towards the small circle.
Looking around the group, it occurs to you just how anti-social you've been; you know absolutely zero of these people, even though they're supposedly all freshmen. Just like you.
It almost makes you feel guilty. So, you force on a small smile, and sit up a little straighter. Trying to psyche yourself up. 'It's gonna be fun' you tell yourself.
But then he sits down, and your stomach drops.
The tall, puppy-eyed & floppy-haired guy youâd seen around the campusâand whom you'd also (not so) secretly been harboring a small crush ever since you first laid eyes on him.
You want to get upâleave the room, and go homeâbut you find that you're completely frozen. As if someone had glued you to the spot.
He doesn't look at youâwhy would he?âjust keeps on talking to his friend, and you try really hard not to stare.
Its hard; what with him looking so fucking pretty.
All sun-kissed and freckled; soft brown locks atop his head just begging for your fingers to card through them. And those shoulders? So- big, and strong-
Are you drooling? You sure as fuck hope not.
Taking another swig of your beerâGod you hate beerâyou remove your eyes from the handsome guy, focusing instead on your friend.
She's chatting up the guy sitting besides her, and you're just about to interrupt, when someone clears their throat, and announces the game begun.
You can feel your body practically curling in on itself; as if to make yourself invisible. Eyes looking anywhere but the bottle. If you get picked you might actually die.
Swallowed up by the cheap carpet.
Someone spins the bottleâyou don't see who, too busy looking at the loose thread of your skirtâand you can see it spinning a good few times out in the corner of your eyes.
It starts slowing down, and for a minute you think it might land on your friend.
But then it stops, and it stops on you.
You freeze. Eyes whipping to the bottle, staring at it like it's personally offended you. Because it has.
A fit of giggles erupt around youâthere's even someone clappingâand if you weren't so absolutely mortified, you'd probably tell them to 'shut the fuck up'.
But all you can do is stare at the bottle. Glued to the spot.
Someone coughs awkwardly, and your head whips up at the sound. Ready to glare daggers, and tell them it's so not happening.
It's him, you realize. The pretty guy.
He was the one to spin the bottle, and he is the one coughing awkwardly, avoiding your eyes.
This time it's your heart that drops; how the fuck are you supposed to survive 7 minutes in heaven with him?
The words caught in your throat, you just stare at him; too shocked to react. Then your friend is nudging your shoulder, and you all but spring into action, like you've just been hit by lightning.
Before you can stop yourself, you've risen on your feetâa little wobbly because of the heels you've been forced intoâstaring absolute murder at your friend.
She has the nerve to wink at you.
Your body moves entirely on its own. Walking in the direction of the designated bathroom without even looking back to see if he's following.
By the sounds of someone being clapped on the back, and boys cheering, you figure he probably is.
Stepping inside the tiny bathroomâliterally, who has a bathroom this fucking small?âyou still refuse to look back. Not until you hear the sound of someone shuffling, do you sneak a quick glance over your shoulder.
Just in time to see the tall, handsome stranger being pushed inside by two of his mates. You assume that's what they are, anyway. What with them grinning from ear to ear, and wolf-whistling before they close the door on you.
Locking it from the outside.
In an instant, all your bravado is gone, and you're left feeling tinier than ever. Suddenly very aware of your lack of clothing. And in a futile attempt to cover yourself up, you cross your arms across your chest.
Eyes looking anywhere but him.
It seems you're not the only one who finds the whole thing a little awkward. He coughsâuncomfortablyâand your peripheral vision catch him taking a step back. Away from you.
You don't know whether to feel grateful, or offended.
Then it dawns on you, that the reason for his discomfort might not be awkwardness, but instead because he doesn't find you attractive.
Because he doesn't want to be in here with you.
And that just makes the whole thing a lot worse.
Wrapping your arms around yourself a little tighter, you take a small step back too. Finding whatever tiny bit of bravery you still have left in you, to look up at him.
You tell him your nameâyou voice a lot shakier than you'd hoped forâand try to stand a little taller. Determined not to let his possible non-attraction get to you.
It's just a stupid game, you tell yourself. It doesn't mean anything.
"I know," the guy says, and that catches you so completely off guard, your arms loosen slightly around your body.
"Huh?" you croak out. Blinking at him once, twice.
God, you must look so dumb right now.
He looks almost sheepishâshifting the weight from one foot to the otherâhis right hand shooting up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck.
Hazel eyes avoiding yours, almost like he's embarrassed that he knows your name.
"I, uh- asked your friend."
You blink again, feeling dumbfounded. Why would he ask around about you?
"Why?" The question slipping out before you have a chance to stop yourself.
This has him shifting the weight from foot to foot again. He's nervous, you realize, and the revelation has something hopeful blooming in your chest.
But he doesn't answer, so you press him again.
"Why did you ask for my name?" And because you're suddenly feeling brave, you take a small step forward; making the space between you a little smaller, now close enough to reach out and touch, if you wanted to.
But, you don't. Instead you let your arms fall to your sides, craning your neck a little so you can try and catch his eyes.
And when you do, you find the air catching in your lungs. Heart skipping several beats in your chest.
Because he looks so.. adorable. Big, brown eyes looking down at you, his cheeks a wonderful tint of pink. Teeth chewing at his bottom lip, like he's trying to catch himself from admitting some horrible truth.
"You're⌠pretty." He says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and he can't believe he has to say it out loud. Also a little like he doesn't want to say it out loud.
And that pretty much does it.
His words like hot, liquid courage rushing your veins, making you stand tall on your feet, back straight, a small smile on your lips.
Amused, but also adoring.
"You think I'm pretty?" You drawlâvoice honeyed, oh-so-sweetâas you tilt your cocks ever so slightly to the left. Drawing him in with both your smile and your eyes.
And he actually swallows; the hand on his neck falls to his side, eyes flickering briefly to your lips, before they find your eyes again.
He might be towering above youâbroad shoulders covering up your frame, easilyâbut suddenly, you feel 7 feet tall.
It's enough to get you into gear.
Taking another step forwardânow enclosing his personal spaceâyou tilt your head back, looking up at him through fluttered lashes. Nibbling coyly on your bottom lip.
"You wanna kiss me, handsome?" Sounding very much like one of the women in one of those videos you swear you never watch.
You really don't know where all this bravery is coming from, but you decide not to question it.
Not when he's looking at you like this; a pleading, almost pained look in his eyes. Nodding weakly as his gaze flickers helplessly between your eyes and your lips.
Hands twitching at his sides, as if holding himself back from touching you.
Thenâbecause you're not quite done torturing himâyou take another step, finally closing the space between you, and press your body flush against his.
Hands coming up to rest on his chestâwhich you note are surprisingly firmâbefore you stretch your body, and all but tip-toe up to whisper near his neck, "What are you waiting for, then?"
His restraint snaps like a rubber-band.
And before your brain can catch up, he's pushed you against the nearby counter, tall body settled neatly between your thighs. His lips crashing onto yours, as his hands find a home on your hips.
The kiss is all teeth and tongue and desperation. Hot and heavy, like he's trying to devour you whole. You don't mind. In fact, you don't mind at all.
You kiss him back with just as much fever; just as much desperation, fingers carding through his hair, as you jump up onto the counter.
This has him groaning against your mouth, and you take the opportunity to wrap your tongue around his. Sucking downright lewdly, before exploring his mouth.
In an instant, he's closer. Pressing his chest to yours, fingers digging into your flesh in a grip that's hard enough to bruise. It's your turn to groan now; hips rolling almost instinctively towards his.
Allowing you to feel just how attractive he really finds you.
The hard length of his cock practically straining in his jeans has you salivating, and your hips roll forward again.
Seeking out his body, and the all to obvious evidence of his desire.
But his hands stop you. Holds you in place, unable to move. Then his mouth leave yoursâan almost obscene string of spit between connecting your lipsâand looks down at you through hooded eyes.
Lips parted, breathing ragged. Cheeks flushed and pink.
Looking so delectable you actually begin to pout.
"Why'd you stop?" You all but whine, trying once more to roll your body closer to his. But like before, he stops you. Even shakes his head a little, though still looking at you like he's five seconds from eating you up.
It sends a delicious little shiver down your spine; one that has goosebumps spreading on exposed skin, and your nibbles pebbling underneath your bra.
"Need- a minute, sweetheart," the nickname almost enough to send you over the edge. You want him bad, and you want him now.
But he sounds absolutely wrecked, and because you're not evil, you still your hips, and pull back just a little. Letting him breath.
Though your fingers never leave his hairâcarding absently through the soft locks, nails scraping at his scalp just because you can.
This has his body trembling, and his hips bucking, so you stop. Pitying him.
But not before cataloging it for later.
He takes a breath. Then two, then three, and when he looks a little more stableâand a little less like he's about to cum in his pantsâhe smiles coyly down at you.
"I'm Sam," one hand leaving your hip, now presented in front of you, like he's about to shake your hand.
For a moment you just look at himâlook at his Samâentirely confused. And then it hits you.
You never actually asked him his name; probably didn't give him a chance to introduce himself before you were all over him.
The embarrassment you feel is instant; flooding your face with hot, red shame.
A little awkwardly, your hands leave his hair. One of them reaching out to take his outstretched one, shaking it sheepishly. "I'm sorry I didn't ask," and it's hard to look him in the eyes.
"Guess I got a little.. carried away,"
When he chucklesâlow and sweetâyou feel your heart fluttering, and your stomach tickling.
"I didn't tell you." He just says, voice a little steadier. Smiling down at you.
You shrug, smiling back. Shy, but less ashamed.
When your eyes catch hisâopen, curious, wantingâyou hold them. Your breath caught in your chest, tongue peaking out to wet your lips.
His eyes catch the tiny movement, and they darken visibly. Suddenly back to looking at you like you're a meal, and he, starving.
Slowly, you lean in. Eyes never leaving his, lips parted, ready. He leans in too, all hooded eyes and heavy breaths.
Big, strong hands back to exploring your curves, fingers flexing against your hips.
Just a few more inches, andâ
A sharp, rap of knuckles against the bathroom door has the both of you pulling away.
Your head all but whips towards the sound, cursing under your breath. Your 7 minutes in heaven must be up; and just when it was getting good.
Glancing back at Sam, you find him looking just as devastated as you. At least, that's what you hope the expression in his eyes is.
"Guess we have to.." words trailing off, as you throw a less than enthusiastic nod against the door.
Sam just nods, and helps you down from the counter. Pawing uncomfortably at his jeans when you're back om the floor.
Looking at you all sheepishly. "Uh- better.. wait a minute," and then he's back to rubbing that big hand on the back of his neck, the other one covering up his groin.
You try your best not to giggle, covering it with a cough as you nod slowly.
"Come on, times up!" someone yells behind the door, shaking the handle. "If you don't answer, we'll come in." This time, it's your friend speaking.
Rolling your eyes at the door, before turning back to Sam.
None of you move to speak. Both just- looking. You at him, him at you.
It's you that breaks the silence.
"So, uh- I better get out there and stall them.." referring to his little (big) problem.
Sam nods, and sends you an apologetic look.
Just as you're about to turn on your heels and leave, you stop. Considering briefly if you should kiss him goodbye. Nah, it's too.. cheesy.
Instead, you whip out your phone from your back-pocketâthank God it's old and sturdy enough to survive a make-out session on a hard bathroom counterâbefore shuffling in his direction.
"Give me your number," you all but bark out. Too fast, and too coy.
And for a second, you think he's going to turn you down. Your stomach just about to drop to the floor, when he reaches out, and takes the phone.
Without a word, he puts his number in your phone, and hands it back to you.
A smile on his lips, and a tint on his cheeks.
"I'll text you." And then you step towards the door, knocking to let them know, it's okay to let you out.
When the door opens, you all but dash out of the door, closing it behind you before anyone gets the chance to look at Sam still in there.
"I puked, Sam's cleaning it up," you quickly sputter out, ignoring the 'eww' sounds erupting around you. Then you grab your friend by the wrist, and drag her out the room.
A secret smile on your lips, and a pep to your step that definitely wasn't there before.
