Supernaturall-yes

A place for Supernatural Fics and more.

[superabnormal]

But whatever I did for you last year, I cannot do again. It's getting harder and harder and harder and harder for me to call you a friend.

watch on youtube. w*ncest dni

[itsmkjones]

Well, this hurt my soul. And it shows every bit of the pain Sam goes through that never gets acknowledged and gets demonized instead, so he's forced to swallow it.

[itsmkjones]

Imagine: Calling Sam when you had a bad day.

You scrolled through your phone, heart heavy and sour. Lately, everything felt bad. Not awful or terrible or torturous, just… Bad. What were you supposed to do with that? Call one of the two friends you had to complain about what was essentially nothing important? That felt Bad too. But you really needed someone…, yet for the countless numbers saved in your phone, not one of them felt… Not Bad.

You were reaching the end of your contacts list when a name suddenly invoked a spark of excitement in your chest; Sam Winchester. The hunter that shook up reality nearly a year ago when your friend moved into a haunted apartment. -An additional explanation why complaining to your friend seemed selfish.

You twisted your lips in anxious thought as you repeatedly read Sam's name and number. He was a sweet guy, who brought a reassuring light to their dark situation. Everything about him was gentle; his eyes, his smile, his voice… and surprisingly so, considering his towering height. You inhaled deeply. Just the thought of hearing his voice felt Not Bad.

Your heart squirmed nervously as you thought about it. It was weird to randomly call a guy who helped your friend a year ago and then disappeared. The anticipated conversation would be a simple “hello”, “wrong number, sorry”, and “goodbye”. Even if he didn't know you, it still felt mortifying. But at least, mortifying was Not Bad. So, you decided to try it, heart rabbiting as the ringtone started.

“Y/n?” Sam answered.

You nearly dropped the phone, heart jumping so hard it sent shock to your fingertips. “Ah-, um…”

“What's wrong? It's everything okay? The ghost didn't come back, did it?” The low rumble of a car filled the line as Sam waited for a reply. “Y/n?”

“Y-yeah! Sorry…” You swallowed. “I didn't think you'd pick up.”

“I usually pick up if I can when I know the number.”

“I didn't think you had my number saved…” What kind of conversation was this? You sighed, frustration edging back to Bad. “There's nothing wrong. I just called… I don't know why.”

Sam stayed quiet for a long moment and you deliberated between hanging up or not. “Are you sure you're alright, Y/n?”

“Yeah, sorry. There's no ghosts or anything.”

“No. I mean… with you. Are you okay?”

Some emotion dark and wet hit behind your eyes, making them watery. You tried swallowing back the threatening tears repeatedly, only to give up when you breathed with a revealing shuddering exhale.

“Y/n, what's going on? You can talk to me.”

By now the car sounds in the background had stopped, except for the occasionally whoosh and you knew he'd pulled off the road.

“It's really nothing. It's stupid. I've just being feeling Bad lately.”

“... Do you want to hurt yourself-”

“No! No. This is why it's so stupid. It's normal Bad. But I can't complain about it to anyone. Because there's nothing real to complain about.”

“So you called a random number to vent.” Sam realized lightly.

“Well, sorta. I remembered you had a nice voice.” A heat settled over your nose and you weren't quite sure it was better than the Bad. “I mean… you made us feel better last time, so I guess I associated that with you…”

Sam chuckled when you groaned. It was so soft that you nearly missed it. That warm simple sound lightened your psyche in an instant. It washed away the Bad so quickly that it seemed like it was never there. How could Bad feelings exist when that laugh existed?

“I know you're laughing at me.” You attempted to sound sulky, but your Good mood came through clearly.

“Sorry.” Sam smiled. “It's not ‘at’ you. You're compliment made me feel better and I realized I haven't been out of Bad in a long time.”

You frowned. “Really? But… you looked-”

You cut off, remembering the times you’d seen Sam and his brother. They were nice and helpful, but did they ever seem happy? No. If anything, they seemed stressed. They smiled at them before they left, but it was a tight lipped smile. A dutiful smile. You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling guilty.

“I guess being a Ghost Buster isn't exactly… Good.”

Sam chuffed. “Guess not.”

“You could text me.” Your offer surprised you, but it felt Good, so you continued. “I can't help you or anything, but I can listen to you vent.”

“You're already feeling Bad, remember? I'll be fine. I've got my brother.”

“It's different listening to someone else vent. And you have your brother, but you still felt Bad, right? I mean, you don't have to, but you can. That's all I meant.”

“Then… How about you do the same? That way I won't feel Bad unloading on you.”

“Mm… Deal.” You smiled.

“Great.” Sam sounded happy, then sighed when his phone beeped. “Sorry, Y/n. I gotta meet up with my brother. Will you text me? I'll reply when I can.”

“Sure.” Your heart fluttered ecstatically.

“Bye, Y/n.”

You hung up. Not a trace of Bad was left. There was a little bit of Good, but the majority of your feelings had become Happy. That Happy intensified as you sent a text to Sam and came back with each message he replied with. Finally, the Bad was broken.

[itsmkjones]

Imagine: Sam forcing you to go to bed

Okay. So you'd gotten a little obsessive. And, sure, that tunnel vision drive had robbed you of a real night sleep for three days straight, resulting in unplanned naps at an hour intervals at most, adding up to two whole hours. But was it really fair that your body demanded sleep when Sam and Dean habitually did the same thing? And that's how you got to day four, hallucinating every time you looked at something too bright or too dark. 

"Y/n…?" Sam called out softly after coming into the room to see you staring blankly at your hand. "You alright?"

"Huh?" You could barely pay attention to him, much less summon the mental stamina to craft a proper response.

Sam hesitated. "I asked if you were alright…"

"Uh huh."

Sam glanced back, wondering if he should call for Dean, then decided to approach you first instead. "What's going on?"

"This spot on my wrist."

"Spot?" Sam blinked in surprise when you clumsily shoved your hand in his face. He gently took it wrist. "I see it. What about it?"

"It's a spider."

Sam's brows knitted. "What?"

"All spots are spiders."

"Uh…"

"Spider. Spider. Spider." You repeated, poking the visible moles on his skin. "It goes away when you touch it. Then reappears!"

"Are you high or something?"

"Let me take off your shirt." You didn't wait for permission, sliding your hands up his hard abs. You would have enjoyed it more if your brain didn't feel encased in cotton, but as a solid to your future self, you made sure to indulge in the experience.

"Why the hell are you taking off my shirt?" Sam's voice cracked as he startled back, hands wavering in the air, unsure of what to do.

"You have the cutest mole right… here." You caressed the curve of his neck.

Sam's breath hitched and his throat worked as he struggled to reply. "You didn't need to take my shirt off to see it- Y/n!"

You opportunistically slipped under his shirt, kissing the spot. "God, I've always wanted to do that."

"Have you been drinking?" Sam jumped back when your hand dipped under his jeans. "Jesus, Y/n! What the hell?"

You blinked at him, mind blanking. 

"Y/n?" Sam stepped forward cautiously when you didn't respond. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Yesterday maybe?" You felt yourself swaying, but it didn't feel dangerous even when Sam jerked forward to keep you upright.

"For how long?"

"I don't know math." You scowled indignantly. "How dare you, Winchester? -Like twenty minutes or something."

Sam sighed. "How long has it been since the last time you really slept?"

"Um…" You closed your eyes to think and the swaying got worse. "Anyways. Take off your pants."

"What? No." Sam frowned. "Try to concentrate for a second."

"How can I supposed to do that?" You whined shamelessly. "Real Y/n wants to see the goods!"

Sam flushed and it took clearing his throat twice to find his voice. "Real Y/n?"

You nodded. "Awake Y/n. Not sleepy Y/n." You grabbed his waistband. "There's a pot going on amongst hunters about how hung you are. I'll keep it a secret if you do, but shouldn't I know since we're friends? You can't keep secrets from your friends."

"Okay. Bedtime for you." Sam threw you over his shoulder when your fingers started to graze downward.

"I'm not sleepy." You pouted. "My brain is too awake."

"I'll give you warm milk or something. Just get into the bed and stop touching me." Sam's voice was hard. 

You stopped sliding your hands over the lines of his back muscles sulkily. "You're so bossy. Isn't it your fault that you're so damn fine? Take some responsibility! Coming out of the shower with nothing, but a towel on…"

"I didn't know you were there!"

"That doesn't make me not want to lick every damn drop of water off of you." You suddenly became cheerful. "Stay hydrated everyone."

"Please stop talking." Sam swallowed hard.

"I'll show you yours, if you show me mine." You offered.

"That's not-" Sam broke off with a sigh, then pushed open your bedroom door and set you down. "Get some sleep." He sighed again when you stared at him in blank confusion. "Sleep, Y/n. Please?"

"I forgot how the bed works." 

"You forgot…" Sam covered his eyes with his hands, scrubbing his face hard. "Go lay down."

You walked backwards until your legs hit the bed, then toppled inelegantly on the mattress. Sam's face fell. Begrudgingly, he scooped you up and laid you further back on the blankets. He rolled you up tightly in an impromptu swaddle before you could do anything else.

"I'm a burrito. Eat me."

"Go to sleep, Y/n."

"But you and Dean stay up all the time." Your face crumpled with a wave of sorrow.

Sam softened. "You aren't us." 

"But you won't want me anymore."

Sam's lips thinned with an empathetic smile. "We can talk about this later."

"You've got a cute mole by your nose too."

Sam turned off the light, but didn't leave. A moment later, you felt him sit next to you. "I never had anyone try to help me fall asleep, so I'm not really sure how to help you, but… I saw this in a movie once. A mom putting down her kid…"

You relaxed instantly as his fingers brushed back your hair in long, gentle strokes. Sam smiled at your satisfied hums.

"Good night, Y/n." Sam said softly when your breathing slowed.

[itsmkjones]

I thought I'd share this with the people who would understand:

I have a 3yo who recently learned what being homesick was when we went on Thanksgiving vacation for a week to her grandparents.

When we got back, we were watching Naruto Shippuden together as our pre-sleep routine and my daughter goes, "I don't feel good. I'm sick. I want to go home."

I know she means homesick, so I say, "We are home, baby." and wait for more information.

My daughter points to the screen and says, "No. I want to go home. That home. Naruto home."

And as a veteran fangirl of xx years I immediately recognize what she means. Unfortunately, I have no way to get us to the Narutoverse, so all I could say was, "Me too, baby. Me too."

Which left her unfulfilled and trying to somehow get through the screen. (I told it wouldn't work, I've tried.)

Her life will never be the same now... Sorry, kiddo.

[itsmkjones]

I leaned an important thing!

Vetiver

https://homesick.com/blogs/news/what-does-vetiver-smell-like

I picked this vocab word up on my husband's new hair product. The scent was Bergamot and Vetiver. And I sincerely think Sam Winchester would smell that way. Okay. So I hope and imagine. Oh, I imagine.

Warm Sam hugs, buried against his chest, the scent of Bergamot and Vetiver washing around you.

[itsmkjones]

This isn't my usual content, but I thought it might be helpful to others. It personally me hone in on what I'm looking for or find the synonym I can't remember. Hopefully, it helps!

The Plutchik Model of Emotions

[itsmkjones]

I fell out of the SN fandom a while ago but every once and a while I come back and read your Sam works because I enjoy them so much!

That's so awesome! And thank you. I do too, then I'm like why didn't you write more, but I'm the one who didn't write more, so the only person I can blame is past me 😒

[itsmkjones]

Imagine: Dirty Talk with Sam Part 2

Part 1 ◌ Part 2 ◌ (Part 3 tbd)

Sam x Reader

Warning: Smut, Masturbation, Dirty Talk

-

Well. Damn it. You covered your eyes with an arm. Past Y/n was a freaking jerk. Why the hell did you think that was a good idea? A sharp overwhelming surge of hot, golden lust rushed between your legs. Oh, yeah. That's why. Sam. Freaking sweet, compassionate Sam had a personality gap; he turned demanding, unapologetically erotic, and so damn hot when it came to sex. Fuck, your body was already burning. How the hell were you going to face him?

Admonishing your past self, you quickly jumped into the shower, desperate to stop the memory of last night from overtaking your thoughts. As punishment and necessity, you negated adding heat, freezing your body to the core. Yet, as you stepped out and saw a flash of your body in the mirror, Sam's sultry words came back:

I wanna see your head thrown back, breasts exposed and bouncing with every thrust I make.

You exhaled shakily, hands feathering up your torso, coming to a stop to cup your breasts. A shiver rolled through you. You could almost feel his hot, callused hands on your skin. The idea of seeing him again sent a dangerous thrill through your body. With a steadying breath, you forced yourself to calm. Dean would be there. His presence would pacify the situation until you could make sense of it. After all, you still weren't sure it happened. The thought inspired a sprout of hope in your chest and you nearly ran to your bed to check your phone.

I wanna hear that from your pretty lips. Can I call?

"Oh, fuck…" You drawled, halfway between a moan and groan.

You scrolled telling yourself that you were confirming the contents, but the spark growing at the apex of your thighs had a more truthful response. Before you could let your mind reason with your body, you were laying on your bed in a desperate attempt to reenact last night.

Another cold shower. This time you didn't look at your phone, training your focus on getting something to eat from the vending machine. Deep breath and open the door. The vending machine was just down the path. You could make it there and back to your room without thinking about the deep vibration of Sam's voice or how his cock would stretch you, slam deep…

You sighed. "I'm such an id-"

Your despondency was abruptly cut short as you turned, smacking face first into a buttoned shirt. A quick woodsy scent swept around you. Excitement pulsed through your veins, the rush of lust you were desperate to avoid slammed into all at once, followed instantly by sharp alarm. You took a step back, eyes wide, already aware that you would see Sam Winchester in all his gorgeous glory.

"Sam-" Breathless, his name slipped through your lips.

"Y/n…"

The husky, dark edge from your call lingered in his voice. You warmed under those hooded, unwavering eyes, unable to break away. Your body trembled, demanding you throw yourself against him; to kiss, suck, and lick every inch of his goddamn body just to hear those intoxicating moans you knew he could make. His eyes traveled down your body, pausing at your parted lips, caressing a line down your neck, and settling where your breasts heaved slowly.

I wanna see you hold them as you ride against me.

Your hands were halfway to your chest when you caught yourself. Trying to cover the reaction, you slid your hand to your nape and looked away.

"I'm, uh, going to get something from the vending machine… Want anything?" You bit your lip and you thought you heard a small groan.

"I'm fine, but Dean found something in the books this morning, so we're going to head out soon."

"A-ah… okay." A cold anxiety crashed in your chest as you realized the dynamic had shifted. Your brows knitted together and you met his eyes tentatively. "Do… Do you still want me to come along?"

Shock flitted over his features and his response came so naturally, that you immediately relaxed.

"Of course!" He ducked his head slightly to impress his sincerity. "That's not going to change, Y/n."

"Okay." You released a huge breath you didn't notice was filling your lungs and offered a slight smile. "Good, I'm glad."

"Come over to our room when you're ready." He returned the gesture warmly. "We'll go over everything we've got with you before we set out."

…

"Damn it." You threw your pack across the room, missing the dresser top entirely. "Double damn it."

You huffed, falling on your bed. So much went wrong on the hunt, including a brief hold in the local jail until the incompetent police there resolved the issue. Grumpily, you grabbed your phone. Two new text notifications greeted you, one of which instantly inspired excitement and anxiety. You started with the safer one from Dean:

Hey, sorry about today. Tell me what you want for dinner. It's on me.

You exhaled, amused. Leave it to Dean to show concern through food. It was an easy response. Despite the ease of tension, you needed to take a deep breath before opening the one from Sam:

I feel bad for today. Let me know how I can make it up to you, okay?

You huffed, breath blowing up your hair. It was the exact thing he said in the car, eyebrows pressed together over distressed, guilty eyes. It was in no way his fault and you told him that, but he simply gave an unconvincing half smile and turned forward, becoming lost in thought.

Sam, we're cool. I promise. You had nothing to do with today.

Maybe a little overprotective, but you felt lighter knowing your two favorite people were still watching your back. As if capitalizing on your relief, a cavernous yawn powered forth. You stretched, muscles spasming in tension fueled protest. A waft of the jail cell you were so unceremoniously forced into came off your clothes. It was all you needed to jump in the shower. That's when you found a patch of dirt in your hair from falling and that's when you remembered you used all of the hotel shampoo during your morning shower.

Even as you desperately tried not to think of the implications, your fingers shook with undeniably excitement as you reached for your phone. A tingle moved across your breasts, tightening the apex, despite the hot water. You bit your lip, vainly pretending it was out of discomfort and not potentially being alone with Sam…

I ran out of the hotel's shampoo and conditioner. Can you bring me some of yours if you haven't used it yet?

Before you could set the phone back on the counter, he replied:

Yeah, be right there.

Oh god. The most vibrant thrill you ever felt shot up your body. You tried to adjust your expectations, but already your legs squeezed together and you crossed your arms, pushing your breasts up. You felt so sensitive that the sound of his voice could send you into a hopeless mess. Your hand was at your hip when the front door opened.

"Y/n?"

You bit back a groan, but when you called back your voice was anything, but indifferent. "I'm in here, Sam."

You heard his footfalls pause outside the bathroom. A flash of insecurity, cooled the fever threatening to consume you. But only a fraction.

"You can leave it on the counter." Damn. You were never going to be able to catch your breath when you two were alone again.

"I didn't know you were going to be in shower." Low, husky… his voice perfectly mirrored the call.

You shivered. It would be okay to touch a little, right? He wouldn't know. And, fuck, how you needed it. You were half a second from tackling the pants off of him. You cleared your throat, but your response was still breathless.

"I was already in when I remembered I was out."

"Ah." He paused for a long moment. "I was kinda hoping you wanted me to come in on you like this. A convenient excuse."

Something in his tone made a whimper fall from your lips. You tried to speak, but your thoughts were overwritten by the increasing rise of unadulterated lust. He chuckled low and your core clenched, begging to be filled.

"Sam…"

He put the bottles on the counter, then sat on the closed toilet. You could see his silhouette, nearly touch him; the only barrier, a thin curtain.

"You make the sexiest sounds, but you lose something on the phone, you know?"

You weren't sure if you exhaled or actually confirmed.

"How much better do you think it would be from here?"

"Fuck." The word rose from your throat on a desperate moan.

"What do you say, Y/n?" His voice became richer, dangerous. "Wanna try?"

"Are you going to do the same?"

"If you don't want to, I'll leave, but," His head bowed and he licked his lips. "I don't think I'll be able to get it out of my head."

You hummed in faux thought. "I'd hate to be the reason you can't concentrate." You swallowed, eyes trained on his shadow. "And, honestly, Sam, I'm already wet with you this close."

His head tilted back as if in prayer, releasing a small groan. A rustle of clothing preceded the click and slide of his belt. You suddenly stopped breathing, staring unblinkingly as his silhouette adjusted. Your lungs released all at once as it enlarged. Even though you were the one naked in the shower, the one way lightning made you feel like you were the one keeking.

"Sam…" Your whisper was barely audible above the drum of water. "I really want to go down on you right now."

The semi-distinct outline of his thumb rubbed circles around his tip, hand gripping his shaft with room to spare at the bottom. You quickly continued, using your ocular advantage to narrate.

"I wanna feel your head on my tongue and, god, it would be so easy to slide you to my throat with the hot water in here."

"I bet your tongue feels so good." He let out a shaky breath. "But, you know, Y/n, I never got to tell you how bad I want to taste you. I wanna pull you to the edge of the bed, spread your legs wide, and slide my tongue deep into your pussy… lick your g-spot… suck your clit… make your knees shake, then hold your them captive when you clench and tongue fuck you. God, you're going to taste amazing."

Your fingers were inside before he finished. He was so right. Last night's phone call was a far cry, a pale, weak sensation compared to the game they were playing now.

"God, Sam… your voice." That deep reverberation, so close, yet so far, tingled through and gripped your nerves. "Your voice is so fucking sexy."

A dark chuckle had you squirming. "Your little sounds are far more intoxicating. I haven't been able to get the sound of you out of my head."

"So, who would get to go first?"

"Why not at the same time?"

"'cause if I'm turned around I can't lick your balls at the same time and I wanna see your expression when I do."

Your lips curled into a smirk as he began to stroke himself, barely biting back a delicious groan.

"I don't mind going first…" He took a deep breath. "But I don't wanna stop until you're begging for me to fuck you."

"It wouldn't take long." You whimpered, slowly riding your fingers. "After last night… I already tried taking care of myself this morning. It was nothing in comparison and now this… I'm already so close."

"We may have been doing the same thing at the same time. I woke up hard as hell." He moved his hand at a leisurely pace, twisting and leading with his wrist. "And when I you ran into me this morning, I wanted to pin you to the wall and fuck you right there."

"I don't care how you take me." Your brows knitted together, pained with desire. "Just take me."

"I don't think I could wait after eating you out… Gonna put one leg over my shoulder, hold the other out to stretch you."

You made a small sound that ended in a breathless affirmative.

"It would kill me, but I'd go in slow. Inch by fucking inch and hold. Let you squirm and buck against me."

"Please… Don't stop there." You were getting frantic now, fingers suddenly feeling so small.

"I want it just as bad, but I want to make sure you feel it. Feel it all. Then I'll kiss your neck before slamming into you. And keep going until your eyes roll back. Won't stop until you can no longer scream my name, Y/n."

"It's not enough." You were whining in pathetic desperation, but you didn't care. "I know you feel better. I want it. I need it."

"Switch it to pulse and use the shower head." He demanded.

In a frenzy, you complied. Rapid taps massaged your swollen clit. Your knees almost gave and you braced against the corner shelves. Your strangled cry lifted in the air, eyes rolling back. Your pussy spasmed, desperately begging to be filled.

"Oh, God, Sam." Your vision was completely white. "I want you so bad. Want you in me." Your voice was past pleading, tears welling. "Please, oh fuck. I need you. I need you so fucking bad."

His hand pumped faster, frantic grunts between pants fell freely from his lips. Lips you were dying to taste. His head tipped back and he groaned your name again and again. Your teeth grit, summoning the strength to balance just enough to finger in time to his place. Every time his deep voice moaned your name, a sharp bolt of electricity zipped through your body with hot, vibrant lust, striking pleasure where your fingers touched. Helpless cries, turned into broken swears.

A violent crash of visceral rapture slammed between your legs, rushing up your body like undertow, and ripped your conscious with it as it fell. You shuddered, collapsing to the tub. His name came from your throat in shaky reverence and you dimily saw his body twitch. A final animalistic growl sparked the faintest beginning of lust as if to condemn your body to never stop becoming aroused.

A slam from the other room made you both jump. Sam shot to his feet, fastening his clothes.

"Hey, Y/n? You there?" Dean yelled. "I got food, but I can't find Sam."

You cleared your throat, a small croak answering instead of words.

"Yeah, Dean. I'm in here." Sam licked his lips, calling back in a completely normal voice. "Y/n needed shampoo. I gave her your share."

He walked away, leaving you messy and alone, still trembling.

-

-Tags: Sorry it took so long. It got daunting to come up with a second part. Hope it made up for it.-

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[freakygirlie]

not a single lie detected.

[itsmkjones]

This flipping hilarious. I can't even

[itsmkjones]

Imagine: Beating the Heat with the Winchesters

Genfic / No Pairing / Reader Inclusion

"It's hot."

No one answered you.

"It is so hot." You tried again.

This time Dean grunted and Sam's lips pulled into a thin line. You groaned theatrically, flopping across the back seat.

"It's hot. It's hot. It's hot."

"Well what the hell do you want me to do about it, Y/n?" Dean snapped, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck.

You contemplated it. "Ice cream."

"What?" His head whipped back to look at you, scowl ingrained in his features.

"Or milkshakes." You shrugged, shoulders sticking to the leather upholstery. "Or ice water. I don't care. Any diner with AC that works."

"Why would we stop? We're nearly back to the bunker." Dean glanced at Sam who shrugged.

"We're still a couple hours out…" Sam trailed off, lightheaded with the heat, but keeping outwardly calm in face of your grumpiness and Dean's irritation. "Couldn't hurt to stop for a bit."

"Yeah… Alright."

You pulled into a trucker's diner at the next exit. As soon as the car turned off, you sprinted to the building in an attempt to reduce any amount of your existence under direct sun. Fresh sweat dampened your clothes as you reached the door, chilling immediately in the frigid interior air. The hostess stand was empty, so you helped yourself to a seat at the bar. The boys came in a minute later and you waved them over.

With two handsome men next to you, the waitress suddenly appeared. "What can I get for you?"

You leaned in front of Sam, rising off your seat. "Yeah, hi! I want an M&M Nutella chocolate milkshake, water, onion rings, and mozzarella sticks with a side of ranch." You caught Dean's amused eye. "What? I'm hungry…"

"I'll have the same." He grinned. "Plus, a slice of the house pie."

"Uh, cookies and cream milkshake please." Sam offered the waitress a small smile. When she walked away, Sam leaned back to address your disbelieving stares. "What? It's a cheat day."

"Then I'll let you have one of my opinion rings." You held up a single finger seriously. "But only because I like you so much."

"Gee, thanks Y/n." He chuckled.

"Don't look at me." Dean held up his hands when Sam naturally looked his way. "I don't like you that much."

"I know better than to get between you and your food." Sam chuckled with a knowing inhale, brows raising. "Last time I tried to grab a stray fry, you nearly stabbed my hand with a fork."

"You don't steal a man's fries, Sam!"

"I was ten!"

You grinned at their bickering. Already the day was turning around. If anything could beat the heat, it was milkshakes with your favorite boys.

[itsmkjones]

Imagine: Driving Dean in the Impala

Content: Smut, Oral and Fingering

Dean x Reader

...

"I am not going to get in the car while you're in that state." Your eyes narrowed, arms crossed with emphasis.

"Oh, c'mon. It's not that bad." Dean retorted.

You hummed negatively. "Not happening. You know my rules. I'd rather walk back or wait for Sam to come pick me up. You've definitely lost too much blood to drive safely."

"Yeah, yeah… I know you're a girl scout." He huffed, digging his keys out of his pocket. "Then you drive."

You caught the keys when he tossed them, completely and utterly, irrevocably flummoxed. "I do beg your pardon?"

He smirked. "What? Did wearing a dress suddenly make you into the Queen of England or something? I said, "you drive."."

"And I was wondering if you'd hit your head and suddenly gone completely insane."

"It's better than you walking ten miles back to the hotel looking like you're on your way to a tea party."

"Oh my god, Dean." You sighed, but headed to the car door. "It's a sundress for god's sake."

…

You plopped into the driver's seat. You glanced at Dean when he put his arm over the back of the bench seat, completely relaxed. Your brows pinched together over his cavalier attitude. He clearly lost more blood than you thought and this lapse of character was its side effect.

You took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. The last thing you needed was to damage the car and earn your passenger's undying hatred. The engine growled into the night, humming like a tense cat ready to pounce. A strange sense of connection tingled from the machine into your body. Each little vibration from where your body met the car sent sprigs of excitement snapping at each nerve's end. You took a deep breath, this time to cool the sudden warmth washing through you.

The vain attempt to ignore the odd sensations the rumble of the car afforded collapsed completely as you pulled onto the highway. The car roared louder with the speed, chomping at the bit with excitement. That wild excitement vibrated through the cabin, settling somewhere deep between your legs. Thick arousal slowly swirled there. Your hand was halfway up your thigh, pulling your skirt with it when you realized what you were doing. You bit your lip, hand bunching up the fabric as you clenched it.

The slight movement caught Dean's attention. His brows furrowed slightly at your hand, gaze lifting to your face, ready to pose a question when he saw your tongue sweep between your lips. You exhaled shakily, teeth finding your lower lip again. His brows flew up as realization hit. A deeply satisfied smirk transformed his features.

"You good?"

You swallowed, Dean's gravelly voice partly distracting you from your increasing issue and partly adding to it. You were all too aware you were in his car. It shared his scent and he shared its. His hands had intimately touched every inch of the interior and the very knowledge of that fact had you thinking of his hands treating you in the same fashion. And the secret crush you harbored for the man made your predicament worse until you were no longer trying to be unaffected, but keep it from being blatantly obvious.

"Yeah." Your voice felt sticky in your throat, so you added more to force it to seem normal. "It handles really well."

Dean smothered a grin, twinges of excitement running through his core. In that dress you already struck an innocent, girl-next-door image that had caught his attention all day, but now, in the night, in his car, fighting off sinful instincts… he felt the overwhelming need to play the bad boy.

Dean's hot callused hand found your thigh, rough thumb rubbing lightly. At the contact, you instantly inhaled, long and sharp, lifting your breasts up, knees willingly opening a few inches before you collected yourself enough to close them again. You glanced at Dean, knowing your reaction had been too overt to hope he hadn't noticed. He smiled, unwaveringly playfulness in his seductive gaze. Turned in his spot to watch you closely, his elbow hung off the back of the seat. Nothing in his manner indicated the placement of his hand and the casualty of it wrecked the little reserve you had. A small cry uttered from the back of your throat as his fingers lazily caressed your inner thigh.

"A-ah! Dean, what're you-" You bit your lip hard, fighting against your body's desires when his fingers feathered against the crux of your legs.

"Oh, sweetheart… you're already so damn wet."

Sweetheart.

"Fuck-" You grabbed the wheel with both hands, a spear of unadulterated golden electricity racing up your core. The ferocity of the reaction from so little caused you to shudder and it took incredible control to keep driving safely.

"Careful, Y/n." Dean chided, smugness dripping in his teasing tone.

"I-" You licked your lips, struggling to formulate a coherent thought between driving and the suffocatingly erotic touch of Dean's fingertips. He coaxed another cry from your lips as he slid your panties to the side, knuckle brushing your folds. You squirmed, feeling his presence whispering against your entrance. He rubbed your clit with his thumb and for a split second your vision went black. Breathless, you managed to pull yourself back from the edge of reckless abandonment. "I need to pull over."

"Concentrate on the road." It was the deep demanding tone Dean used on everyone else, but you. It was firm, commanding as if to promise the same with his ministrations.

You bit your lip. The dark highway stayed straight, easily driveable. You weren’t that far away from the little town your hunt had started in. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself. It wasn’t a difficult drive and, maybe, if you drove quickly enough you could make it to the motel before- Dean slipped a finger inside. Sharp sparks jolted from his touch. Your hips lurched forward as a swear popped out of your mouth. You forced yourself to look at the road, body dying to submit to his attention instead of fighting it.

“I love making those pretty lips of yours swear.” You glanced at Dean and saw him completely at ease, an entertained smirk on his lips.

“Dean…” Your chest labored as you struggled to keep control.

“Yeah?”

His finger started moving. It pushed up against your hood, sending your nerves to sizzle like a livewire. A moan hit the back of your throat as he thrust inward, thumb unerringly rubbing circles against your clit. You were panting now. 0 to 60 and revving higher with every stroke of his adroit succor. That sharp edge was approaching fast and it was going to take you to a place where your mind wouldn’t operate. You opened your mouth to say his name when he added a finger. Your knees hit the dash, head thrown back with a carnally salacious moan. Dean crossed his arm to steady the wheel. He directed the Impala off the road onto the gravel as it slowed, your foot no longer on the pedal as you opened fully to him. He forced the shift in park.

“Oh, fuck.” Your hands found your breasts and squeezed, spreading the onslaught of delicious sensations. Dean groaned at the sight, the first real indication he was affected by this little interlude. You caught a glimpse of his hand palming his erection over his jeans. Dean Winchester touching himself to you heightened the erogeny further. You caught his hand, holding it hard, as you curled forward, orgasm shredding down your core. Your legs shook as your body relaxed. Panting you looked at him, then spasmed around his fingers, the monstrous engine vibrating his hand.

“Damn, you look sexy as hell completely undone in my car.” He commented hoarsely with a little grin.

“Dean, fuck me.” Your tone was shamelessly pleading. “Fuck me now…”

“Counter offer!” He hooked his hand under your knee and spun you in the seat. You blinked at him, his head suddenly between your legs and legs over his shoulders. “I’m going to do this instead.”

His hands massaged your ass as he kissed down your thighs. His scruff scratched your skin igniting brief snaps of excitement. He pushed back your skirt, then nuzzled the center of your panties. You shuddered, anticipation building dangerously. Carefully, Dean bit the wet fabric and pulled back. You watched in rapt attention, his gaze capturing yours as he dragged the article free.

“Now I can’t have you grabbing me again.” A lopsided grin cut the intensity in his eyes. He leaned forward grabbing your hand and began wrapping your panties around your wrist. “So, I’m just going to put these away for now.” He worked leisurely, checking your expression habitually to give you time to reject. After he wrapped your second wrist through the other leg hole, he clipped the restraint under the handle of the door above your head. “Comfy?”

“I’ve never been more tense in my life.” Your knees squeezed around his hips.

He caressed idle patterns down the inside of your thighs as he leaned back. “I guess I should help you with that.”

With a confident smirk, he threw your legs over his shoulders again and dove forward. Unlike the patience he showed before, Dean worked with feral haste. He sucked your clit, teeth raking softly on the swollen bundle before flicking and swirling his tongue. He delved further, licking the length of your hood, methodically searching for the winning spot. He was rewarded readily in the titillating form of you screaming his name. He chuckled against your slick lust and peeked up at you.

“That’s the hot spot, huh?”

You whimpered in response.

“Go on, sweetheart. I want to hear you moan my name more.”

He wasted no time returning to the task. With frenzied perfection, he oscillated between drinking in the spot that made you scream and feasting on the zone that had your eyes rolling back. Heat screamed against his tongue, electricity gripped your core, excruciatingly arousing. Your body wavered, demanding the promise hanging just out of reach.

“Please, Dean-” You cried out in pure euphoria. “I need… you. I need to come around something. I need your cock. Please. Oh, god. Please, fuck me.”

Dean mumbled something without breaking apart and pushed two fingers deep into your trembling pussy. He fixated on your clit with an increasing attentiveness that nearly took away from the fevered thrust of his fingers. You tried to bite your finger to distract from the overloading ecstasy, but your hands stayed secured above you. Restrained and at his mercy, you relinquished everything to him. Your vision went black, scream splitting the night, nails digging into your palms as an visceral orgasm crashed violently through every inch of your body. Seconds later, still shuddering, your eyes began to adjust. You saw Dean’s unapologetic, triumphant grin.

“Now can I have you in me?” Your question emitted as a breathy whine, but you didn’t care.

“Nah.”

You gaped in disappointed disbelief. “Why not?”

“I’m about to pass out from the blood loss.” He explained with a shrug before untying you. “I definitely won’t make it if I we have sex.”

“Then why the hell did you start this?” You exclaimed, exasperated.

“That dress has been killing me all day. You look good all the time, but…” His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled, eyebrows lifting. “You were looking all sweet and innocent, then you got turned on by my car. I’ve never wanted to eat out someone so bad in my life.”

A hidden blush seeped up under your flushed cheeks. You made a strange squeak, unable to coherently form words through the fluster. He leaned forward with a playful grin.

“Now that I have tasted you, I can’t wait to do it again.”

You sat up. “How am I supposed to drive us back now if you say that? I’m going to have this stupid memory on repeat as it is!”

“Oh, sweetheart.” His suggestive expression sent a shiver down your spine. “You’ll have a lot more memories to think back on as soon as I heal up.”

You took a deep breath, hanging on to the last shred of logic you had left. “Then we better get back as soon as possible to get you rested.”

He laughed as you quickly put the car in gear and sped towards the motel. So much for safe driving...

[itsmkjones]

Imagine: Swimming in the Pool with Dean

Content: Sensual and Playful (I wouldn't call it smut per se), Summer fic to keep cool with!

Reader x Dean

...

As Dean put it… it was hot as balls. While you had no personal experience to confirm his claim, you were inclined to agree, if only, because your expression would've been far more explicit and for good reason. It was so hot that Dean pulled into the nearest hotel instead of taking the extra precautions of finding a motel to save the Impala from potentially overheating. It was hot enough that all three of you passed out the moment you got to the air-conditioned room. It was that hot.

...

You woke up oddly refreshed. It was dark outside and the hotel alarm clock claimed it to be one thirty in the morning. For a few minutes, you laid there wondering what you should do. You weren't really hungry and the idea of going back into the heat was unfavorable at best.

Wait. Didn't the dude who checked you in say something about a pool? It was worth checking out, at least, right? You sat up, plan already set. Quick check in the bathroom yielded a surplus of fluffy towels. Were hotels always this much better than motels? Careful not to wake the boys, you snuck out, closing the door carefully.

Dean stirred awake as a wave of hot air disturbed the cold. He bolted up when the door clicked shut, then relaxed a fraction as he saw you quietly walk past the window. His brow furrowed at the oddly cautious air in your step. Curiosity won out and he rolled off the bed.

He found you dropping a towel on a lounge chair. He smiled, joke on his tongue when you stopped glancing around and pulled off your shirt. He froze. Should he have walked away? Maybe. But nothing in the world could make his brain work when you slid your jeans down. Lust, hotter than the day and thicker than the humidity, slammed the pit of his stomach. In an instant, his entire body was tense. You tiptoed to the edge of the pool and dipped a foot in, holding your hair back with a hand. When you finally eased into the water, Dean realized he wasn't breathing and inhaled shakily.

He forced a chuckle, shaking his head and scratching the back of his neck. Mission accomplished. He'd sated his curiosity, figured out what you were doing, and now he would head back to the room. Maybe order a pizza. Drink a beer. Yup. Heading back. His feet weren't moving and his eyes were glued to your form moving gently through the placid surface of the glowing water.

Dean moved forward, quickly pulling his shirt over his head with a hand and tossing it to the side. He kicked off his jeans, ran the last few feet and cannonballed right next to you. He surfaced with a broad grin. Your guilty alarm turned into embarrassed disbelief.

"Dean? What-" You glanced around to make sure Sam wasn't around as well. "What are you doing here?"

"Same as you. Midnight swim to cool off."

Your brow rose skeptically.

"Alright, alright!" He threw his hands up. "You got me. You woke me up and I was worried, so I checked on you, okay? Then you got in here and it seemed like a freaking fantastic idea since it's been hot as hell all day… and I should know!"

Your lip twitched when he accented that credential with an eye roll. Something about the way you looked at Dean expectantly without speaking sent him defensively trail spinning and letting all his thoughts out. Dean Winchester, classically weak against stern female figures. Keeping the encroaching smirk at bay, you tilted your head slightly, intensifying the look with a hint of impatience.

"Yeah, okay! So I saw you undress… but it wasn't like that." He rubbed the back of his head vigorously, desperate to find footing. "It's not like I saw anything or was like creepin' in the bushes with my hands in my pants!"

You blinked deliberately, raising both eyebrows pointedly.

"No, no, no!" He waved good hands frantically between you. "I-"

The red blush kissing the top of his ears sent a wave of affection through the sea of amusement in your chest. The two mixed, creating an overwhelming guiser of mirth that burst forth. Dean blinked as your head fell back with a laugh, then chuckled weakly in realization.

"That was cold, Y/n. I thought you were seriously pissed."

You grinned, swimming a single stroke closer. "You're the idiot who kept rambling on about nonsense." You poked his forehead. "You really think I'd be mad about this?"

He shrugged, relaxing into his normal goofy manner. "I've learned not to mess with the Y/n face."

"Excuse me? What Y/n face?"

"That one. The "I could kill you with my little finger and not mess up my nails" look." He swallowed as your eyes narrowed. "Sam said that's what it looked like first!"

"You're so stupid." You tried to glare, but ended up smiling affectionately.

"Ah, but that's why you love me, right?" The teasing light that entered his eyes would have stolen your heart right then if he hadn't already done so.

"Is that why?" You deflected haughtily, turning away. "I thought I had better taste than that."

Dean snapped his fingers by your back and your bra fell off. You jerked in surprise. He held the strap, peeling it away as you quickly spun around and yanked it free without touching you once. Your mouth fell open, arms coming over your chest a second too late.

"You -!" A blush flushed over your face, travelled down your throat, and dissipated down your chest. "How-?"

Dean's brows quirked up, gaze still fixed on your hand groping your breasts. At the inpatient huff you made, his eyes and finger holding your bra lifted. He grinned victoriously.

"Baby, if you think I'm beneath your standards, then you have no idea what you're missing out on." He grabbed both straps and held out the bra in its entirety. "Isn't this a little fancy for hunting in. What do you do if it gets all bloody?"

"Give it back!" You secured your modesty with one arm and swiped out at the bra with the other.

"Uh, uh, uh!" Dean took a step back, keeping it out of reach. "First take back that comment from before."

Your face fell into unamused disinclination. "No."

"Say l, "Dean Winchester is the best damn, sexiest man alive" and I'll give it back."

He held it high above his head tauntingly, seconds away from giving it back anyways when your expression shifted. Fire from the air and ice in the water mixed in his veins as you turned a sultry smile his way. His mind went blank as you pushed through the water.

"Dean Winchester…* You spoke, husky, seductive voice low and enticing. He naturally leaned closer, completely captivated by your unwavering gaze. "Is that best…" With astounding control, Dean kept his eyes from moving when your arm left your chest to run your fingers up his chest. "Sexiest…" He shuddered, eyes closing as your lips brushed his ear. "Man alive."

He heard a plonk, but before he could look he felt his boxers pull down. His eyes flung open just in time to see the night sky swing overhead as you usurped his balance. He sputtered as he resurfaced. You held up his boxers on a finger over your shoulder, casually assessing him while coolly censoring your chest again.

"Well, I'll say that is the best I've seen." You smirked, brow raised in triumphant as you stared through the water unabashedly.

"Woah, hey!" Dean immediately covered himself with your bra. "This is totally different! Gimme back my boxers, Y/n!"

You hummed thoughtfully, then grinned. "Nope!"

"Y/n? Y/n!" Urgency caught in Dean's throat as you swam to the edge of the pool and got out. "Wait. Where are you going? I still have your bra!"

"So?"

"So?" He repeated incredulously.

"I have a towel." You smiled sweetly. "You keep that "best damn, sexist man alive"."

You blew him a kiss and strutted to your towel. He gaped at you as you scooped up his discarded clothes to strand him without hope of a dignified exit. He bit the inside of his cheek with a faint chuckle at your play. But damn if you didn't look sexy taking the upper hand.

[itsmkjones]

HOLY CRAP! I JUST GOT THE NOTIFICATION! MY DREAMS HAVE COME TRUE! YOU’RE BACK!

This was such an incredibly sweet thing to read. I'm ridiculously flattered, but also a little daunted now. I hope I can keep fulfilling your expectations!

[itsmkjones]

Imagine: Playing in the Pool with Sam

Content: Fluff! (Stay cool everyone!)

Reader x Sam

"Oh my god guys!" You burst into the room next to yours where Sam and Dean were sitting at a table. "This hotel has a freaking pool!"

"Yeah, but it's a motel pool." Dean shrugged off, unimpressed with your discovery. "You don't know when the last time it was cleaned."

"Cleaners came two weeks ago. Checked that already." You wrinkled your nose at him playfully. "C'mon already! Let's go. It's way too hot not to take advantage of it!"

"No way. No how." Dean declared flatly. "What would I even swim in? My clothes? Not gonna happen. What're you going to wear anyways? You don't have a swim suit."

"Yu huh." You immediately lifted your shirt to reveal a bikini top. Two sets of eyebrows flew up, then both men shifted as realization set in. You dropped your shirt. "I always have one packed in case I can't get away with skinny dipping."

Dean grinned cheesily. "Skinny dipping, huh? Just where does that happen?"

"Anywhere. You know, when you drive by a stream or something and it looks so cool and inviting, so you pull over and jump in…" You rolled your eyes as they stared at you. "Y'all have no sense of whimsy."

"Look, if there's naked chicks in the pool, count me in. If not, then I'm staying here." Dean said finitely, turning back to cleaning his gun.

You glared at him, then turned a full-fledged puppy dog pout at Sam. "Sam… please?"

"I don't know, Y/n…" His brows twitched together slightly as he offered an apologetic smile. "I don't have anything to wear either. So…"

You reached back through the door, picking up a pair of shorts that you stashed and held them out triumphantly. "Go in these!"

"Where did you get that?"

"Does it matter? They're clean, they'll fit and since that was your only stipulation you're good to go!" You flung them across the room, smacking him in the face. You smiled sweetly when they fell. " See you at the pool!"

Dean snorted and Sam sighed as the door slammed.

…

"Y/n?" Sam called out hesitantly as he walked towards the water. Despite fitting fine, the basketball shorts felt too revealing compared to his usual outfit. A woman sunbathing lowered her sunglasses, looking him over. He waved awkwardly at her in greeting.

"Sam!" You exclaimed in a sing-song voice, covering his eyes from behind. "Guess who?"

"Uh…" Sam wet his mouth, trying very hard to ignore the two wet breasts squishing against his back as you reached up. "Y/n."

You released, letting him turn and smiled happily. "You came!"

"You didn't really give me a choice." He returned your mirth softly, eyes meeting yours as he ducked his chin bashfully. "And it seemed like fun."

"I know right?" A mischievous glint entered your eye. You surged forward, wrapping your arms around his stomach. "And now to throw you in!"

He didn't budge as you lifted. After a few seconds of increasing effort, you pulled back with a dissatisfied frown. His gorgeous smile appeared as he chuckled, spurring both delight and annoyance.

"Don't laugh." You glared half-heartedly and slapped his chest lightly. Your hand hit solid muscle. Muscle accented with a tattoo. Muscle that begged for your hand to slide down to his abs. You felt heat engulf your face.

"Sorry." His expression was anything, but apologetic. "But did you really think you could move me?"

"Did you really think you could move me?" You repeated mockingly under your breath and crossed your arms petulantly.

His eyebrows lifted in amused disbelief. "It's gonna be like that, huh?"

"It's gonna be like that. Wah!" He scooped you up with an excess amount of force that made you weightless in the air for a moment. "Samuel Winchester! You put me down this instance."

"Nope!" He tossed you over his shoulder.

"Sam!"

Your pleas were abruptly cut as he jumped feet first into the deep end. Pleasantly cold water washed over you. He allowed your body to slide forward, so you could surface yourself. You sputtered into the air, eyes narrowed as he smiled at you.

You splashed him and wrinkled your nose to offset the chide, "I wasn't going to get my hair wet. I'm out of conditioner!"

"Why not use the hotel's?"

"There's like two drops and it's not even good."

"It works for me…" He frowned thoughtfully.

You scoffed lightly. "Not everyone can have perfect hair like you, idiot!"

Your tread broke as you splashed him forcefully and sank under. Two large, strong hands came around your sides and held you above the surface. You blinked. Sam stood, shoulders out of the water, completely stable.

"Are you kidding me?" You deadpanned, ignoring the warmth of his touch on your skin despite the shivers threatening to bloom from the contact. "You can stand?"

"It's not that deep." He shrugged.

Your hands found his shoulders and pushed hard. "Dunk!" Your body shot up, arms at full extension as he held kept you balanced. His lips twitched, holding back a smirk. "Dammit!" Your eyes narrowed. "Well played, Winchester. Well played."

"You did that to yourself." He chuckled. You felt the vibrations of his laughter as he lowered you. Your bodies slid together. The heat from your bodies warmed the water between you. He seemed to realize how close you were at the same moment.

"Ah, uh-" Flustered, he struggled between the decision to drop you or keep holding you afloat. The sweet indecision sent a flutter through your heart and you smiled shyly. His shoulders relaxed beneath your touch. You took the opportunity to rub your thumbs against them reassuringly. He exhaled with a small smile. "Sorry, I'll put you down now."

You looped your arms around his neck. "Why?"

He startled, eyes widening, mouth agape as words failed him. "Why?"

"Mhmm." You hummed easily. "I'm pretty comfy."

"O-oh?"

You laughed. A touch of pink dusted over his tan cheeks and he glanced away uncomfortably.

"You are so cute when you're caught off guard!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Totally!"

His hands moved from your waist to your back. In a swift, fluid motion, his lips touched yours. Soft, warm tingles erputed from the chaste kiss, swarming to your heart and tickling every nerve in your body. You clasped your fingers over your mouth in surprise when he pulled away, eyes widely searching his amused gaze.

He leaned in, voice lowered with a conspiratorial tone. "So are you."

Then he pushed you away. A yelp caught in your throat as you submerged one more. He was laughing and swimming away when you kicked up.

"Oh, hell no, you didn't!" You yelled. "You get back here Winchester!"

You grinned as his carefree laugh rang through the air. For the rest of the afternoon you traded playful banter, flirty splashes, and teasing kisses that never failed to excite.

[itsmkjones]

Imagine: A Long Drive With Sam

Content: Fluff

Reader x Sam

The long stretch of midnight road reached into the velvety distance with no interruption. Intermittently, street lamps set soft golden spot lights on the wet tarmac. The ambient radiance barely illuminated the surrounding area, but gave just enough way to show the looming silhouette of the giant trees hedging the highway. Constant Northwest rain cascaded upon the car in waves with gentle persistence. The soothing drum of the drops against the metal roof lilt just above the soft rock humming through the cabin.

You covered a yawn, head snuggled against the chilled pain of glass. The faint issue of your breath whispered along the window creating thin streaks of fog that disappeared before you could inhale. A draft of mild heat reached your cheeks from the vent despite the setting being adjusted to the floor.The tight natural cold of the air cloaking the car mingled with the inner warmth creating a thick blanket of comfort that leadened your eyelids and sapped the strength from your body. This time the height of your yawn drew the attention of the equally silent driver.

“How much longer till we get to where Dean was zapped?” You asked deciding to break the quiet.

“Still a day or so.” Sam swallowed, his voice stuck to his throat with the length of silence weighing it down.

You hummed in response, echoing his hushed reply. “Why Canada? You’d think the angels would be polite enough to observe our inconveniences.”

Sam’s lips tightened, head pulling back in a single show of amusement. A street light flitted through the cabin, touching his features in a fleeting instance. You soaked in the moment. Elbow propped on the door, he absently rubbed his forefinger of his upper lip, thumb trading off to trace the straight line of his jaw. His amber eyes fixed into the void beyond, unknowingly exposing his penchant for musing over troubled thoughts privately. You traced the muscular lines of his forearms exposed by his hastily rolled back flannel sleeves. His strong hand fell over the top of the steering wheel loosely, long fingers dangling without strength as he kept the wheel steady with the heel of his hand.

The gentle rocking of the car spurred another yawn. Your muscles tightened, trembling slightly before relaxing, letting blood rush into your limbs only inviting another lengthy yawn. Sam glanced towards you in concern. His lips parted slightly, but before he could speak you unfastened your seatbelt and lay across the bench nestling your head on his thigh. He froze beneath you, then shifted ever so gently. Your bent legs leaned against the back rest comfortably.

“Is this okay?” You hummed not bothering to open your eyes.

“Ye-yeah.”

You smiled picturing his surprise.

“Are… are you comfortable?” A note of fluster laced his tone as he awkwardly moved both hands to the steering wheel attempting to find the best way to position himself.

“Very.” You purred flipping inward on the seat, forehead pressing against his hip. “You have a very comfy lap.”

“Go-good.” He swallowed, “I’m- glad.”

A radio classic filled the conversation end. Laying in a satisfying still, you absorbed the ambience. The lilting duet of rain and music, the rock of the long highway, cradled body and mind as the tender tendrils of heat curled around your skin.The scent of pine seeping into the cabin from the shadow forest damned the Impala’s musk of aged leather, but neither reached your nose when you snuggled closer Sam’s body. You focused on his mild scent, a bright, but earthy tone that brought sunshine to your mind. You were nearly captive to the greedy grasp of sleep when a gentle touch caressed your temple. Lightly, tenderly, Sam’s long fingers brushed the hair from temple to the spot behind your ear, just before your nape. He continued his soft ministrations, with slow deliberation, letting the strands of your hair slip between each finger. Your brows pinched together unable to smother the reverence at the supernal gesture. Bound by the euphoria, you struggled to stay awake, intent on parsimoniously absorbing every ounce of the feeling. But, Sam’s fingers wove the seduction of sleep into your consciousness, until you dreamt of his touch against your temple, then tipped into the nullity of contented emptiness.

[itsmkjones]

An Explapology:

Hey there followers,

Some of you may have been wondering where I’ve been or why no updates have been coming our. Or why I haven’t responded to your asks (I feel completely terrible about this one especially).

Well, I’ve been wrestling with my depression lately (like the last 5-6 months) and, as is true to my personality, I’ve been stubbornly trying to handle what I could by myself (/ with my husband’s help). 

My point being- I’m making steps to getting my mental health back on a societal approved track to see if I can get to that place of ‘normal brain function’ I’ve heard so much about. 

THE REAL POINT BEING: Until I’ve reached my own personal goal concerning that, I’ll be taking a real break from this blog. By no means does this mean I’m abandoning it. 

What you can expect this to mean is: 

Very sporadic updates (when inspiration strikes so ferociously I can’t help, but write and post)

Replies to easy asks (I won’t forget about requests and there’s so many in my inbox that seem like so much fun to write, but I’m not in a place where I can do that right now. If you want to redact your request, please, feel free. I won’t be offended or upset.) 

Delayed replies to messages (I love getting messages from you all, but it might take me a while to respond).

Anyways, I hope you can understand and be patient with this ‘hiatus’. There’s only so much I can do in way of setting goals to be updating as normal (that depends on what happens next), but I endeavor to have this blog back as it was in the future. In the meantime, I hope you continue to enjoy what I’ve already created.

Thank you to everyone!

[itsmkjones]

Imagine: finding a  Hellhound. - Part 2

Part 1

Crowley X Reader

Content: Fluff

Winter melted into a hesitant spring. Ice clung to the young flowers threatening to bloom against the frost seeped earth. Between bursts of warm rain and sudden chill, you left the confines of the cabin, dog of smoke and fire trodding at your heel. Cerberus’ eyes of deep crimson had shifted from two pools of thick blood to glowing embers at two months. His fearsome appearance didn’t bother you, instead, filled you with warmth and safety. You stooped to grab a broken limb. Cerberus yipped excitedly dancing at your feet impatiently. You wagged the stick before chucking it across the clearing. Frost flew as he charge the projectile. A snap echoing the clamour of a gunshot pierced the air as his jaws broke the stick midair. You clapped encouragingly calling the confused pup back. Cerberus looked at the wreckage under his paws, head tilted inquisitively as the splinters of wet wood.

Crowley appeared beside you, hands buried in his pockets to yield the chill in the air. You remained clueless to his presence, leaning forward even to try to catch Cerberus’ eyes. Crowley kept his silence, rocking back on his heels to catch a full view of the curve of your back. His brow arched, impressed. You righted your posture with a sigh as you watched Cerberus pick up each paw to inspect the dust beneath them.

“C’mere boy! C’mon!” You tried again.

“I do believe you’ve addled the mutt’s brain.” Crowley drawled not bothering to hide a smirk when you jumped in surprise.

“Y-you!” Your hand came over your heart in an attempt to keep it from leaping from your chest. “You’re back!”

“I did say I would return to train the damn pup.” He said a little crossly at your incredulous tone.

“Y-yes.” You nodded.

He quirked a brow at you. “You needn’t be so worried about me. I won’t kill you, yet.” You jumped at his modifier. He waved away your concern. “Killing a pathetic human like you is a waste of energy.”

“Human?” You repeated the word under your breath, brow furrowed. You snuck a glance at him to see the man smirking confidently at you. You shifted your weight uncomfortably.

“I’m a demon, love.” He explained with audacious authority. “King of Hell, actually.”

You stepped back instinctively. With a slight shrug he turned back to Cerberus who spotted the newcomer and was bounding towards them.

“Like I said, no reason to kill you, love.”

His reassurance left something to be desired, but when he fell to a knee reaching out to your puppy he seemed less threatening, endearing even. He caught Cerberus around the collar, a swatch of cloth you’d ripped from an old shirt. His hands rubbed his neck before sliding to his head to give him a sweet pet between the ears. You watched quietly. The one rule you abided by with strangers was with how they treated animals and, so far, “King of Hell” didn’t seem to mean much before a puppy. Cerberus’ head rolled to the side, tongue panting happily as Crowley scratched a patch behind his ear. You crouched beside him stroking Cerberus’ side. The attention intoxicated the young hellhound. Cerberus flopped on his side with an audible thunk revealing his fathomless belly to you. You grinned dropping a quick kiss to his nose. Cerberus managed to lick your chin as you pulled away, the skin puckering red and angry.

“Why do you let him to that?” Crowley questioned, eyeing the burnt skin.

You patted the spot gingerly. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.” You reached down to scratch his chest. “He’s just showin’ love is all. S’not his fault it hurts.”

“I see.”

“What are you planning on teaching him, anyways?” You asked finding the courage to meet Crowley’s dark eyes.

He pulled back a fraction, easing his shoulders up on an inhale. Your unwavering gaze brought him a pause. His gaze flicked down your body once again, reevaluating what he already knew. If you were afraid of him, which he could tell you were by the hesitant wide eyed looks you cast him, then why did you suddenly cock your head to the side and engage in conversation?

“Sit, fetch, maul living, drag a soul to hell.” He smirked, “You know, all the usual tricks.”

You frowned. “I don’t think Cerberus will want to do that though…”

Crowley’s eyebrows twitched to his hairline. That definitely wasn’t reaction he hoped to encourage, rather, your behavior struck him as unsettling. If you were a hunter, sure, adjusted ambivalence and calm contemplation would have been expected, but you were just… human. He stuffed his hands in his overcoat pockets, wrestling with the impending realization that you were beginning to make him feel less confident. He dragged his focus from your face, now serenely watching Cerberus pounce a pile of snow.

“He really doesn’t have a choice in the matter.” He retorted a tad harsher than intended.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Your head snapped in his direction. “You… you aren’t going to hurt him are you?”

Crowley feigned offense. “You assume because I am a demon I would hurt my own hellhound?”

Your eyes dropped, cheek warming. “Sorry…”

Crowley’s lips curled, satisfied with your reaction. It was refreshing, for once, not having dim-witted comments or incessant backtalk thrown his way. The way you chewed your lip nervously allotted the comfort of control.

“If I were any other demon, you’d be absolutely correct.” He trained stoicism as your eyes flew to his face. “I, however, am partial to the beasts: a happy hound is a happy hell… or something to that effect.”

You pinched your lips together, biting your tongue to keep from asking more questions. Crowley whistled to the pup, immediately earning his fleeting attention. Cerberus yipped, a strangled sound that betrayed the depth of his throaty vocalizations, and sprung into a full sprint. His lithe body shook as he waited for Crowley to speak again.

“Sit.” Crowley ordered simply.

Cerberus tilted his head to the side.

“Cerberus,” You said sweetly, bringing his fiery eyes to yours. “Sit!”

His butt connected to the earth with more force than necessary. His tail swept from side to side behind him brushing away snow. You grinnned.

“Good boy!”

His tail thumped.

Crowley sighed. “What else did you teach him?”

“Well, he can sit, lay, and fetch.” You explained rubbing Cerberus’ neck. “We were learning how to play dead, weren’t we? But, we couldn’t keep still long enough, could we?”

“Why the bloody hell would a hound need to play dead?” Astonishment laced Crowley’s voice. “Fine, let’s just move on, shall we?” He pulled on a shallow reserve of patience. “Now normally, I use a dismembered femur for the beasts to retrieve, I assume you’ve taught him to repossess candy canes and rainbows or something equally frivolous.”

You shot him a bemused judgemental look, “No, just sticks… Although, he has brought me a book before, but I would never throw that. I think he just likes it when I read to him.”

“You… read to the mutt?” He clarified with perfect disdain.

“So?” You pouted, unable to hide your annoyance. “He likes it and, anyways,” you crossed your arms pivoting away from him, “at least, he listens to my commands.”

“Parlor tricks!” Crowley snapped. “I can train a hellhound to rip the soul from beating heart and drag it to the bowels of everlasting hell!”

“That would impressive if that meant anything to me.” You rolled your eyes. “And at any rate, it seems like you aren’t doing a very good job with Cerberus. You can’t even get him to sit.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed a fraction. He spun to Cerberus who, at your every word, reacted appropriately. Crowley’s heated glare was lost on the playful hound. Crowley should have felt annoyed, the deep bite of irritation at your words, but instead they brought a cooler, cleaner emotions to cling in his mind like the frost sticking to the new growth. He snapped his finger disappearing from the clearing under the guise of insult. You looked around, the area suddenly too bright without the darkly clad man. You kneeled giving Cerberus a good rub wondering if you had gone too far.

@roxy-davenport (Hope you like it :P)