cycle syncing headcanons
cw: mentions of spanking, fingering, p in v, toys
... ☆ ... c. page ... ☆ ...
MENSTRUAL
ie. hormone levels and energy are at their lowest while the uterine lining sheds
... ☆ ... Doctor Sam really gets to shine when you're on your period. He is absolutely fawning over you, ensuring that you get your rest, massages, and enough steak for a small army. He always has a heating pad at the ready, telling you that while your hips are physically widening you have every excuse to feel tired and lazy.
... ☆ ... He buys you period panties because he thinks that always having synthetic materials so close to your skin isn't good for you, and you can't deny that you feel decidedly less pathetic when you don't have to wear a diaper to bed.
... ☆ ... He knows that you're probably not feeling up for it... but the way he fucks you on your period makes you wish it could feel this good all the time. He's handling you like you're made of glass, his palms big and soft and wide every time he touches you. He goes so slow, not wanting to jostle you or put too much pressure anywhere that's uncomfortable. Usually he's making you cum before he's even thought of himself, but he knows that sometimes you're one and done at this time of the month and doesn't want you to miss out on that big stretch and gentle internal pressure that feels so good right now.
FOLLICULAR
ie. estrogen levels start to rise, and the fatigue of menstruation is clearing
... ☆ ... Now that your period is over, sam decides it's about time for you to get back in the gym. He takes pride in acting like your personal trainer, and you just follow him around the gym like a little puppy while he chooses machines and workouts for you that seem totally random, but you're guessing they're not by the way he's writing down what you're doing in a little notebook. You don't mind the gym nearly as much when he's working out with you in a wifebeater.
... ☆ ... Sometimes if your period was especially bad he'll surprise you with a tiny scrap of white or pastel lace, a little reward after you had to sit through hell with ugly panties on as a reward. Even for your cute underwear the 100% cotton or silk rule applies, and he is staunchly against victoria's secret or anything of the sort that uses all synthetic materials
... ☆ ... After a week of shackles (not feeling up to fucking like you normally do) you are back to regularly scheduled programming. If you racked up any punishment or spankings during your period this is when they get doled out. Sam knows that during your period any punishment will just make you weepy and upset, and you won't want to accept any help. He also has a little notebook where he writes down exactly what you're due for. 'Bratted after given a chance to apologize - 8 hits,' 'snuck more caffeine than allowed - 5 hits,' 'acted miserable during our daily walk - 2 hits.'
OVULATORY
ie. hormones and energy peak with the release of the egg
... ☆ ... Even if the oura ring he bought you didn't show your cycle, sam would know when you're ovulating. He'd know from the way you beg him to make you cum on his fingers, from the way you wake up with a wet spot on your panties, and from the way you leave claw marks on his back when he tries to pull out of you. Most of the time he doesn't even bother wearing a shirt around you because it's just going to end up on the floor anyway.
... ☆ ... He tries to keep you as busy as possible, knowing this is when you have the most energy for workouts and getting things done, but it's hard to care for you while you're so easily... distracted. More than once he's had to take you out to the car in the middle of your workout, knowing you can't control the way that you're leaking for him but teasing you anyway. 'Can't handle a couple squats without getting worked up, can you, baby? Seein' your boyfriend all sweaty is just too much for a needy little thing like you? Gonna get you all fixed up and then it's back to work.' When you walk back in the gym together, you clinging to his side with a crushed ponytail, it doesn't take a genius to figure out what the break was for.
... ☆ ... This is when sam likes to get... experimental. He knows that if you're wet through your panties over a kiss on the forehead that you'll do just about anything to be satisfied enough to sleep through the night. If he's feeling thoughtful he'll break out a little vibrator, but if he feels like you're being an insatiable little monster he'll use a thick g-spot wand vibrator alongside his cock. It makes you feel like you're about to split in half but the way he coos and swipes at your tears, telling you 'you're taking your medicine so well' makes it worth it. If he's feeling really mean he'll just make you ride him until you tire yourself out. He won't guide you with his hands or thrust up, he just lays there until you either give up or start grinding into him so hard that he's worried you're going to bruise your cervix.
LUTEAL
ie. the dropping of hormones creates a loss of energy and increases cravings
... ☆ ... As you wind down from ovulation sam helps you into a more normal routine, and he keeps telling you that his sweet little girl is here to visit for a few days. Before he was dealing with a sex addict and he's about to be a slave in the kitchen to satisfy your pms cravings. As much as he might tease you about your mood swings the adoration in his voice and the way that he caters to your every whim takes the bite out of the words. He always grumbles that you're a 'needy little thing' right after a forehead kiss on his way to do whatever it is that you need.
... ☆ ... Right after ovulation you still have a decent amount of energy so he tries to plan a couple activities to make your week of rotting feel a little better. He takes you on some light hikes, go grocery shopping to pick out your snacks and help him decide what to cook, and run any errands so you're not rushing out for anything when you feel like crap.
... ☆ ... Sam is sure to get his fill of pussy before you start your period. He's gentle enough that shark week isn't also celibacy week, but he can't manhandle you the way he wants to. In the days leading up to your period he's always in grey sweats to show you exactly what you have access to, and you feel like his hips are glued to your ass from how obsessed he is with hitting you as deep and hard as possible from behind. This is also when the majority of your maintenance spanks fall. Partially because pms can make you act like a brat, but mostly because he needs to give you a good reminder to behave for the next week even if he rarely bends you over his knee
BONUS: anal during ovulation
... ☆ ... If it's a really bad one, none of the usual tricks getting you to quiet down, he'll take your ass. Sam plugs you up pretty frequently, thinking the little gem nestled inside of you is quite cute, but it rarely goes further than that. But when you're on your third round of the day and showing no signs of stopping he has to do something. It's the only thing he can do to you that makes you stop begging for more, the deep stretch of his cock occupying your entire brain. 'If your cunt's not gonna listen we gotta try something else, sweetpea. Maybe this will make you sore enough to be ready for a nap."
... ☆ ... read all doctor!sam ... ☆ ... doctor!sam m. list ... ☆
Summary: Y/N has been institutionalised for sex addiction at an experimental facility, run by Dr. Sam Winchester.
Pairing: Doctor!Sam x Reader
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Sex addiction, addiction therapies, abuse of therapist/patient relationship, noncon roleplay
Tags: hair pulling, crotchless panties, degradation (like, a lot), blow job, spitting, pussy spanking, sex on a desk, body writing, p in v, pulling out
Word Count: 4.5 k
Created for: @samwinchesterbingo - Doctor!Sam | @spnkinkbingo - Crotchless Panties | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Hair Pulling | @j3bingo - Diary
A/N: So I this may or may not be one of the dirtiest things I've ever written. It's definitely up there in the list 😅I hope you enjoy, fellow sinners!
October 24th
Last night was awesome. He took me out to dinner and everything, real gentleman, even though we both knew that’s not what the night was about. It was sunset when we got up to the lookout, all romantic. I felt silly that he was making such a big deal about it. Losing your virginity shouldn’t be so much pressure. Now it’s over I don’t feel any different except that I want more. We went twice last night but that still wasn’t enough. I touched myself this morning and it was almost like I could still feel him inside of me. I think tonight I’m gonna let him do it without the condom, so he will still be inside me tomorrow morning.
“What the hell are you doing?” you shout, outraged. It wasn’t enough that your parents had locked you in this place, humiliating you, betraying you, handing you over to Doctor Judgy, but they’d handed over your diaries too. Fucking great. Dr. Winchester ignores you and keeps reading, skipping ahead a few weeks.
November 15th
Fuck I love sex. Even with guys that aren’t great at it it’s still worth it just to have a cock inside me. I wish I could stay the night somewhere without my parents freaking out. I want to fall asleep with a cock inside me the whole time, wake up to it fucking me, keeping me open. College is gonna be the best. Then I can finally do what I want, fuck who I want. Can finally order a freaking vibrator without mom asking what’s in the package. Ugh, I can’t wait.
Sam’s voice sounds unnatural reading out your words. He’s not putting the right emotion or inflection in them. It’s like he’s taunting you with them. There’s a trace of humour underlying everything he says.
“Why are you doing this?” you shout again, and Sam looks up at you from your diary, a smug smile on his lips.
“Because you’re sick, Y/N,” he states it like an obvious fact, shutting the diary with a loud clunk and waving it back and forth. “These are the words of an addict.”
“I’m not an addict,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. Sam raises his eyebrows at you and flicks open your diary again, thumbing through to a page he has marked with a turned down corner.
February 3rd
That’s it, I’m addicted to cock. I need it more than coffee or air or food. I just want to be on my knees all day and let men use me. I want them in my mouth, in my pussy, even in my ass, I don’t care. I just want them. One day I’ll figure out how to make that happen.
Sam gives you an accusatory look as he closes the diary again, and you do have the good sense to look a little sheepish. Having your thirsty words read back to you is embarrassing. Especially considering the man reading them out is extremely attractive. If you’d met him when you were out you would have been on him in a heartbeat.
You can’t help it, your eyes drop to his crotch, which is just below your eye level where he’s leaning against the front edge of his desk. Dr. Winchester notices your gaze and smirks down at you knowingly. The expression makes him even hotter – domineering and sexy.
“You really are a little slut. Get carted off to rehab and the first thing you do is eye up your therapist,” he clicks his tongue disappointedly, and you blush for a moment before you decide that you don’t want to take this shit from him.
“So what,” you shrug, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. Dr. Winchester raises a brow again, surprised by your boldness.
“You don’t think it’s inappropriate to think about your therapist in a sexual manner?” He pushes himself off his desk and settles his hands in his pockets, considering you carefully.
“I like cock, so what?” you say again defiantly. The doctor keeps his expression neutral, walking around his desk and sitting down, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down a few things. You watch him suspiciously, wanting to know what he was writing down. “I’m not crazy, I just really like sex.” Dr. Winchester nods and keeps writing, not looking up at you.
“Come on, are you saying you don’t like sex?” you try to rile him up, and you see a small laugh bleed through his careful exterior, but not the kind of reaction you were hoping for. “What, your manhood not measure up or something?” That gets the doctor’s attention. He shoots you a glare over his desk and puts aside his pen, folding his hands in front of him and staring you down. His eyes drag across you from top to bottom, lingering on your lips, your neck, your cleavage, your legs. You like him looking at you like this, it sends a thrill through your chest, settling in the pit of your stomach.
“I can see that your attitude is going to make traditional therapies somewhat difficult.” You roll your eyes, but let him keep talking. “Have you heard of aversion therapy?” You shake your head shortly. “Aversion therapy is a psychological treatment in which the patient,” Dr. Winchester gestures to you, “is exposed to a stimulus while simultaneously being subjected to some form of discomfort, in an attempt to discourage said behaviour.”
“Um, English, please?” you stare at the doctor blankly, not putting together how this is going to apply to you.
“Well,” Dr. Winchester leans back in his chair, and swings his legs up onto his desk and brings his hands to fold in his lap. It makes him look surprisingly casual - not at all the image you had of doctors and therapists in your mind. “In this case, the stimulus is an unwanted behaviour, your over zealous sexual cravings and actions. We need to introduce an element of discomfort or unpleasantness into your experience of that behaviour, to discourage future indulgences,” he explains.
“What are you gonna do, Doctor?” you sneer at his title. “Put me in an electroshock chair and make me watch porn? Newsflash - that sounds amazing,” you scoff. Honestly, if that’s going to be your therapy, you’ll drop the attitude and sign the fuck up right now.
Dr. Winchester shakes his head, a small smirk on his lips. He stands, removing his jacket and tossing it on the back of the chair, then proceeds to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves and roll them back, one at a time. You watch him suspiciously. The moment his jacket came off your head went straight to one conclusion, but that couldn’t be right. You find your eyes lingering on his forearms, the veins in them pulsing visibly just below the surface of his skin. You want to lick them.
“No you’re right, you’d enjoy that far too much.” The doctor’s voice brings you back to yourself and you look up, watching him slowly approaching your chair. “We won’t be associating a physical discomfort with the addiction, what we want is to alter your mental associations towards the behaviour. We’ll use a series of mantras, and repetition and after a period of good, focused work, we can start to transition you back to a home environment.” His hand comes up to grip the back of your wooden chair, right beside your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body against your skin despite the several inches still separating you.
Between your legs, you can feel how much Dr. Winchester’s proximity is beginning to affect you. For some reason the way he’s speaking to you, so formal and condescending, is really turning you on. You bet if he knew, he’d just say it was another sign of your “addiction”. You can feel your panties starting to get a little slippery when you shift in your seat to look up at him, and you don’t manage to stifle your small intake of breath when the open crotch of the underwear accidentally catches on one of your pussy lips, sending a delicious tug of pain into your core.
Dr. Winchester smirks down at you, entirely unsubtle, probably assuming that gasp was your reaction to him being so near.
Finally, after far too long staring at him, you manage to take a breath and ask- “what exactly is my therapy going to be, then?” Your voice comes out much higher than you’d anticipated, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
Dr. Winchester’s hand drags along the top of the chair and lands on the back of your neck. You shiver when his skin touches yours, despite its warmth. His fingers wind themselves into your hair a second later and yank hard, pulling your head over the back of the chair so you’re forced to look straight up at him.
“Ow! What the hell?!” You reach behind you to try to break his grip but he just pulls again. The pain sends a new tendril of desire twisting down your spine to between your legs, and you feel your panties getting even wetter. You whimper, your arousal clearly evident to the doctor, who laughs.
“Yeah, I knew you’d be too into pain for that kind of thing to work,” he chuckles darkly. He bends down, face so close to yours you can feel his breath ghost against your cheek. “So here’s what we’re going to do instead. I’m gonna fuck you, but you’re going to make sure you don’t enjoy it. You’re going to cry and yell and beg me to stop.” He practically growls, nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just out of reach.
Your pussy clenches at his words, aroused beyond belief at the disdain he’s treating you with. You struggle against his grip deliberately, relishing in the renewed sting as his hand pulls your hair even tighter to keep you still.
“You really don’t get it, do you Dr. Winchester,” you try to laugh but your throat is taut and your air isn’t quite flowing easily enough to let you. “I like cock. I wanted you to fuck me the second I saw you. There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me want you to stop.”
“I think we can drop the formalities now,” he releases you, standing up and reaching for his belt. “It’s Sam, not ‘Doctor Winchester’.”
Your eyes drop to his hands immediately, watching his fingers deftly push his button through its hole and pull down his zip. He’s already hard, you can tell by the tent in his boxers, but you’re astonished to see when he pulls himself out that he’s actually only semi hard – his cock is just huge. You feel your mouth and your pussy water in equal measure.
“Fuck,” you whisper as he starts to stroke himself, eyes tracing up and down your body hungrily as he does so.
“You want this cock, Y/N?” he asks pointedly, and you nod mutely. “Use your words then.”
“Yes,” you breathe instantly, dropping to your knees on the hard, grey carpet in front of him.
“Then you don’t get it,” Sam smirked, contradictorily walking himself closer to you as he speaks, hand still pumping his cock.
“Please?” you beg, hoping that’s the game he’s trying to play. Maybe he thinks he can humiliate you enough that you won’t want to repeat the experience – he’s going to be wrong.
“Nope.” Sam pops the ‘p’ on the word teasingly. “Your mantra for today is ‘no’.”
“What?” you look up to him, confused.
“Anytime I ask you if this is what you want – if you want my cock in your mouth, in your pussy, anywhere I want to put it – anytime I ask you if you want it, you have to say ‘no’,” he smiles down at you like some kind of evil genius, and you’re getting annoyed now that you find this so fucking hot.
“You want me to pretend you’re raping me? Sounds like you need therapy.” Sam laughs, not at all offended by your jab.
“We’re trying to condition a new response, Y/N,” he explains lightly, still jacking himself off maddeningly close to your lips. It takes every ounce of self control you have not to lean forward and suck him down on the spot. “If you want my cock inside you, then you have to tell me you don’t. And hopefully, with time, you’ll start to believe what you’re saying out loud. You’ll believe that you don’t need this, don’t want this.” He taps his cock against your lips and your tongue chases him immediately, reaching for a taste of the liquid you felt pooling on his tip.
“Uh, uh, uh,” he pulls himself away, tutting. “What do you say, Y/N?”
You swallow your pride and give him what he’s asking, though begrudgingly.
“No, please, don’t.” Your voice is monotone, lifeless – like how you used to read out loud in English class when the teacher called on you.
“C’mon, you know that’s not good enough. How are you going to believe yourself if I don’t believe you?” Sam walks closer again and sets his cock against your mouth lightly. “You wanna suck my cock, baby?”
“No,” you manage to choke out, and your hesitance to say the word must sound like hesitance to give him a blow job because Sam buys it, and the next moment he’s pushing the shiny, pink head past your lips, against your tongue; not stopping until he hits the top of your throat. He pulls back again, taking himself completely out of your mouth.
“You want it?” he asks again, grinning down at you.
“No,” you whimper, while inside every fibre of your body is screaming – yes!
“Good girl,” he groans as he pushes himself back inside, and you moan along with him. This time he doesn’t stop himself, fucking all the way into your throat until your nose is pressed against the skin of his stomach. “Fuck, you really are a cockslut,” Sam grunts above you, pulling back a little and starting to fuck your mouth in earnest. “You haven’t gagged once. Not many girls manage that with me.”
You believe him. Your jaw is already aching from the stretch of your lips around his girth but you savour the hurt. You love this; being on your knees for some guy you barely know with his cock shoved as far in as he can fit it. This is what you were made for, you know it, no matter how hard Sam’s going to try to talk you out of it.
He fucks your throat for a few more minutes, lulling you into a false sense of security. You’ve relaxed into it now, and you aren’t thinking about the therapy or the role play or any of it, you’re only thinking about his cock against your tongue, heavy and velvety and perfect. You cry out when he pulls away, taking in a shocked breath at the sudden emptiness.
“You want it back baby girl?” Sam asks breathlessly, and you allow yourself a moment to feel smug at how clearly affected he is by your ministrations.
“Please,” you beg, crawling towards him, forgetting your lines. Sam pulls away, disappointment evident on his face.
“Wrong answer, Y/N.”
“No!” you shout hoarsely, trying to correct yourself. “I mean no, please, no.”
“No,” Sam sucks in a breath, reaching to pull up his trousers like he’s going to put himself away. “No, I don’t think I believe you.”
“No, Sam, please!” you beg, reaching out for him. “I can do this,” you whisper, and Sam lets you take his cock in your hand, wrapping his fingers over yours and guiding your strokes. “Ask me again?”
“Do you want my cock, Y/N?” Sam raises an eyebrow.
“No,” you say firmly. “No, don’t make me do this.”
“Good girl,” he says again, his hand tightening over yours and using you to jerk himself off. “Do you want my cock, Y/N?”
“No,” you whine, trying to play into it even though your fingers start trying to jack him off faster of their own accord, your hands slipping together over the saliva you’d left behind.
“Do you want my cock in your pussy?” Sam growls, reaching his free hand out to snag your hair and pulling hard, causing you to shout out in delicious pain.
“No!” you squeal, trying to pull out of his hold, hoping you can act your way through this convincingly enough to get what you really want.
“No, whore?” Sam spits on you harshly, the wet striking you on the cheek and dripping down your chin.
“No,” you scream again as he pulls you off of the ground by your hair, throwing you forwards over his desk. Books and pads of paper go crashing to the ground. Pens scatter around you when your elbow hits the mug that was holding dozens of them.
“No?” you hear Sam scoff as he flips up the hem of your patient-issued uniform skirt, spotting the pair of crotchless panties you’re wearing beneath. “You’re telling me a slut like you, who gets put in an insititution for sex addiction, and decides to pack crotchless fucking panties, doesn’t want my cock stuffing her cunt full?”
“No, I don’t want it,” you moan, his words positively setting you on fire. Fuck, you want everything he’s saying and more.
“I don’t fucking believe you,” Sam spits between your legs, adding to the slick that must be visibly gathered there by now.
“No!” you cry out when he delivers a stinging blow to your pussy, palm landing right over the open slit of your panties. “No,” you sob out again as he continues to spank you, each hit making a sickly wet echo and sending a jolt of heat through your clit every time his fingers happen to catch it. “No, no, no,” you’re begging, even as you spread your legs wider and push your hips back into his hand, trying to angle yourself so he hits your small bundle of nerves more frequently.
“You’re fucking loving this aren’t you,” Sam is seething behind you. “I can feel how wet you are, you fucking whore. You want my cock now, huh? Want me to put all this slick to good use?” He dips his fingers into the crotch of your panties and comes away with his fingers drenched in your juices, which you see a moment later when he shoves them in your face, yanking you back by your hair again.
“See this slut? See how I can tell you’re lying to me? What’s all this for if it’s not to get you ready for my cock?”
“N–” you try to protest, needing him to believe you if you want to actually feel his cock inside you, but your words are cut off as he shoves his fingers into your mouth, making you lick yourself off his hand.
“That’s right, taste what a fucking embarrassment you are.” Sam lets go of your hair and from the corner of your eye you see his fingers reaching for one of the pens that you knocked onto the desk earlier. Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he uncaps the pen and crouches down behind you, putting your pussy at eye level for him.
“I think we should let the world know just how much of a slut you really are.” You wonder what he means, feeling him draw a single line down your right buttock, then switching to your left and writing some words. “Now anyone who fucks you is gonna see my instructions, and know they have to leave a tally mark right here.” He slaps your ass hard where he had just drawn his own. “And every time you come back to me for a session with more tallies than you left with the last time I saw you, that’s just one more time you’re gonna have to go through this with me. To make sure we really break you out of this habit.”
You silently wonder how many guys there are in this hospital that you might want to fuck. He spanks you again and you clench, pussy convulsing at the threat and the thought of men keeping count of the cocks you’ve taken by literally writing it on your body. You feel a trickle of slick start to make its way down your thigh, and you know Sam must have noticed because he laughs darkly.
“You like the sound of that, don’t you? Are you already planning how to rack up your score as soon as I let you out of this office?” he sneers vehemently.
“No,” you shake your head, even though it’s entirely true. “No, I don’t want that, I promise, I don’t.”
“But you still want my cock?” Sam questions, and you feel the tip of his dick start to drag against you, up and down the slit of your panties.
“No, I don’t want it,” you insist, trying to keep yourself from pushing back onto him.
“Good girl, Y/N,” Sam pets at your lower back and braces himself as he starts to sink in. You both moan when he enters you, but to your chagrin he stops when he only has an inch or so inside. “You want me to keep going?” he pants, and you’re pleased to hear that he’s not as composed now that he’s got the head of his cock wedged between your legs.
“No,” you shake your head quickly, silently praying for him to continue.
“Very good,” he groans, and begins to thrust into you again; tiny, sharp motions to ease himself into you bit by bit.
“No, stop,” you whine without prompting, hoping to encourage him to go faster. He does. “No, no, no,” you chant until he’s sheathed himself completely inside you, his hips pressed firmly into yours, his hands squeezing around your waist possessively.
“No?” Sam asks teasingly, pulling out a little.
“No!” you cry again, and this time you do mean ‘no’ – you don’t want him to leave you. At your cry Sam pushes back in harshly, snapping his hips back against yours and moaning, the sound bubbling up deep from his chest. “No,” you try repeating the phrase, testing your theory, and you’re rewarded by Sam withdrawing and fucking back into you piercingly.
“Please stop, please,” you whimper, not able to stop yourself from rocking back into his thrusts as Sam starts a punishing pace.
“You fucking liar, you love this you little cockslut,” Sam grunts pointedly, taunting you.
“No,” you insist, still meeting him thrust for thrust. “No I don’t want this, I don’t want you!”
“You’re always going to want cock, always gonna beg for it.”
“No!”
“You want me to stuff you full everyday don’t you? Maybe more than that. I bet you’d sit under my desk all day with my cock in your mouth if I told you to,” he laughs, his harsh pace becoming even quicker. He’s not fucking you deeply now but that means that every time he pushes in the head of his cock punches hard against the sweet spot on the front of your pussy, making you clench around him.
“No,” you shudder, feeling yourself close to the brink of your release, and you wonder what he’ll do when you cum – a clear demonstration that you’re fucking loving this, despite what you’re saying out loud.
“Say it louder, bitch,” he grunts, reaching down and spanking hard against your clit.
“No, no, stop!” you shout, desperately trying to fuck yourself on his cock, your orgasm just out of reach.
“You want to cum on my cock?” Sam slaps you again but then starts to rub tiny circles just where you need them.
“N–no,” you stutter, unable to hold back your moan.
“You don’t want to cum baby, you sure?” he teases, angling his hips so he’s fucking your sweet spot with each drive into you.
“No,” you whine, voice pitching higher as you feel yourself right there.
“No?” You can hear from Sam’s voice that he’s pouting at you, mocking you. “You don’t want to cum baby? Not gonna cum on my big, fat cock fucking you so good?” You clench around him, your toes curling, straining… “Come on you little slut, fucking cum already. Thought whores like you were supposed to be easy? Huh? Want you to cum for me, Y/N.”
“No, no, no, no, no–” you lose track of what you’re saying as you cum, screaming into your arm so you don’t accidentally say something to make Sam stop fucking you. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your orgasm and your come down, hips snapping more and more erratically as you bury your face in his desk and try to catch your breath.
Suddenly, the weight of his body is gone, and then there’s a warm jolt between your legs, and you know he’s cumming – aiming his load at the top of your panties and letting it drip down through the open crotch. You moan high in your throat at the feeling of his release soaking into your underwear, mixing with your own juices, which are already leaking out of you and dripping onto his desk.
“That was a really good session, Y/N,” Sam says, and you’re surprised to hear how composed he sounds, though a little breathless. “I think this is going to be a good strategy for you.” He walks around to the other side of his desk and starts to pick up the books and papers you’d knocked down earlier.
Slowly, you peel yourself up off his desktop, your skin sticking to the surface with sweat that’s already started to dry.
“Go clean yourself up, Y/N,” Sam instructs, not looking at you as he continues to tidy his desk. You turn to go, still in your post-orgasmic daze, but you spin back around when Sam calls your name again. “Oh, and Y/N?” you look at him curiously, and a smirk curls slowly across his lips as you watch. “You better keep the tally marks, or there’ll be consequences next session.”
“Yes, Dr. Winchester,” you agree quietly and slip out of his office into the hallway, walking back to your room behind an orderly, with Sam’s cum still dripping down your thighs. You think about the tally he’d left on your body, and you look up at the orderly, who’s now stopped at the door to your room and holding it open for you.
As you pass him, you keep your eyes trained at the ground, and glance sideways to surreptitiously inspect the man next to you. The hospital scrubs do nothing to hide his endowment. You smile brightly, bringing your eyes up the rest of his body, taking in the muscles in his arms and the name tag on his chest, before landing on his face.
“Thanks, Dean.” You walk into your room, eyes flicking back to see Dean still standing there, watching you walk towards your bed. You bend over to grab something off the bottom shelf of your nightstand, not caring what you grab, just knowing that you’re now giving Dean a full display of your ass – Sam’s writing and Sam’s cum decorating your skin.
The door behind you shuts quietly.
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Squares filled: Hospital AU for @spndeanbingo and Doctor AU for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me a Story Bingo
Summary: Working too many hours and being short handed leads to a breaking point.
~~~
Gabe pushed the wheelchair off the elevator into the ED. She bit her lip to muffle her whimper as the small bump jostled her foot. “Sorry,” Gabe murmured as he wheeled her towards the nurses station. “Hey, Charlie, you got an open room? She needs an x-ray.”
Charlie turned to see who Gabe was referring to. “Oh, what happened?” she asked, seeing the pain on her friend’s face.
Before either of them could explain, Dean came out of an exam room and spotted her. “My nurses are not supposed to be in wheelchairs. Especially not my favorite one,” he said as he walked over and squatted down to her level. He noticed her puffy eyes as he carefully pulled up the pant leg on her elevated foot. He echoed Charlie’s question, “What happened, sweetheart?”
She rubbed a hand across her forehead as she glanced at the floor. “I missed a step, or maybe two. I landed wrong on my ankle. I'm pretty sure it’s broken. It hurts a lot.”
Dean raised an eyebrow as he stood and moved to take over Gabe’s position. “Okay, let's get you checked out.”
“Exam 4 is open,” Charlie said.
Dean turned to Gabe as he pushed her toward the room. “Can you go grab the portable x-ray and 25 mcg fentanyl, please?”
Once they were in the exam room, Dean offered his hand to help her stand on her good leg. He leaned over and lifted her carefully and then set her on the bed. She tried not to whine as the movement sent pain shooting up her leg. “Damn it. This sucks,” she said.
He situated the bed so she was laid nearly flat and got her foot elevated on a couple pillows. “1-10—how’s the pain?” Dean asked, as he tossed a blanket over her.
“Uhh, about a 6.”
Dean nodded. “Gabe should be back with the pain meds in a minute. So, you missed a step?” he asked as he started to check her vitals.
“Yeah, I was playing with my phone and I missed it,” she explained. He gave her a skeptical look.
Before he could say anything more, Gabe appeared and handed Dean a syringe. “I figured you’d want that first. I’ll be right back with the x-ray.”
Dean finished recording her temp and BP, then pushed the sleeve of her scrubs up her shoulder and cleaned a spot with an alcohol wipe. “Little pinch,” he warned. “Babe, you can maneuver all the stairs in this building backwards, hands full, and with your eyes closed. You sure you just missed it?” he asked.
She broke eye contact as she contemplated her answer carefully, knowing he could tell when she was lying. “No,” she mumbled. “I might have been a little dizzy, too.”
He reached his index finger under her chin to force her eyes to meet his. “Any guesses why you were dizzy?”
She pulled away enough to drop her gaze back down to the bed and shrugged almost imperceptibly. “Low blood sugar, maybe? Probably,” she mumbled the last word. She fiddled with the corner of the blanket almost nervously, not wanting to see the disappointment and concern on his face.
He hummed. “So you didn’t miss a step. You fainted?”
She sighed in defeat. “Yeah.”
“Have you eaten anything since the granola bar I brought you,” he paused to check his watch, “five hours ago?”
She shook her head and pulled the barely-touched bar from her pocket. “I got busy and then I forgot it was there.”
“What about water? Have you been drinking?” he probed. She simply shook her head, still refusing to make eye contact. “So you’re probably dehydrated, too.”
She shrugged.
He sighed. “You really have got to take better care of yourself. I love how much you care for everyone around you, but you have to come first once in a while. Otherwise, you won’t be able to help anyone.”
“I just get so busy that I forget sometimes.”
He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “We are going to work on that.”
Before she could add anything, Gabe pushed the x-ray into the room, and within a few minutes, they had all the images they needed of her ankle.
“Definitely very broken,” Dean stated. “Gabe, can you run a CBC and BMP and then start an IV of normal saline while I go page Sammy, please?”
“You got it, boss.”
“Wait!” she yelled before he could disappear out the door. “Why are you paging Sam?”
He turned back to face her. “Did you hit your head, too? You broke your ankle; we need an ortho consult. That would be Sam.”
She let out a frustrated groan as Dean left.
Gabe patted her shoulder before wrapping the tourniquet around her arm. “Maybe try not falling down the stairs next time.”
She rolled her eyes and looked away from what he was doing. “Oh, my god. Why didn’t I think of that?!”
He finished the blood draw and got the IV set up. Next, he carefully fluffed the pillows under her foot to ensure it was elevated enough. “You are all set. Do you need anything else right now?”
“Not unless you have a time machine.”
“A day do-over? Let’s see.” Gabe snapped his fingers and then spun around. “Damn. It was worth a shot.”
She tried to contain her smile as she rolled her eyes at him. “Thanks for trying, I guess.”
Ten minutes later, she was dozing off when Dean returned with Sam close behind. Dean ran a comforting hand over her head to ensure she was awake.
Sam took a few minutes to read over the x-rays. He turned away from the light board and walked over to the foot of the bed. “Unstable bimalleolar fracture,” he stated as he inspected her ankle. “You just bought yourself surgery and a vacation.”
“No way,” she blurted. “I can’t. We’re already short staffed.”
Sam shrugged. “It’s not exactly optional. Good news, though: the swelling isn’t too bad yet, I happen to be free in 45 minutes, and you haven’t eaten anything in hours. So we can do this today.”
Charlie joined them to give Dean her lab results. He turned to address her. “Just like I thought: mild dehydration and your blood sugar is at 58.” Dean flipped through the info again before handing it over to Sam. “Okay. So I’ll add glucose to her IV and get her up to pre-op.”
“Perfect. Make sure you keep her foot elevated.”
Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. “Do you think this is my first day?”
Sam shrugged. “Just making sure, Jerk.”
“Bitch,” Dean grumbled quietly.
Sam turned his attention back to her. “I’ll see you soon, Shortie. I’ll getcha all fixed up. Sound like a plan?”
She gave him a lazy thumbs up. “Thanks, Gigantor.”
“Can you send Gabe back in here on your way past?” Dean requested. Sam simply nodded as he turned to leave.
Dean returned his focus to her. “How’s the pain now?”
She scrunched up her nose as she considered her answer. “Um, about one and a half.” She laughed at herself.
“That’s good. I see you’re loopy, too.”
She scowled at him. “You’re loopy.”
He just shook his head. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.” Gabe returned and Dean gave him the med order and asked him to take her up to the OR.
“You’re not coming up?” She pouted.
He shook his head. “I can’t. I’ll be there when you wake up, though, I promise.” He took her hand and placed a quick kiss to her knuckles.
As if on cue, Charlie leaned into the room. “Dean, trauma incoming. MVA car vs pedestrian. Ambo is two minutes out.”
“Okay, I'll be there in a second.” He gave her hand one more squeeze before he turned to leave. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
~
Roughly three hours later, Sam found Dean in the lounge pouring a cup of coffee. He nodded and offered over the now-full cup.
“Thank you.” Sam took a sip of the dark liquid. “We got her all set up in recovery. She should be awake soon.”
“Okay. I’ll head up there in a minute.” Dean took a sip of his own coffee. “Everything went smoothly?”
“I’d have paged you if it hadn’t.”
Dean rolled his eyes.
Sam nodded. “Yes, it went perfectly. It’ll heal up just fine.”
“Thanks, Sammy.”
Wandering into her room, he couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful she looked. He placed his hand softly against her cheek, sweeping his thumb slowly over the skin. She nuzzled into the touch as she lazily opened her eyes. “Hi, sweetheart.”
She gave him a goofy smile. “I like when you call me that.”
“I know you do.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “How do you feel?”
“Sleepy.” She yawned. “And I’m starving. Can you bring me some fries?”
He chuckled. “Well, I’m glad your appetite is back. You get a little more sleep and I’ll bring you fries.”
“And pizza,” she added. Before he could agree, she gasped. “Ice cream!”
“Tell you what: I will get you fries from the cafeteria for you to munch on on the way home and then we can order pizza.”
She pouted as her eyelids started to droop. “What about ice cream?”
His eyebrows scrunched together as he asked, “When do we ever not have ice cream at home?”
“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” She smiled as she finally let herself drift off once more.
Pairing : Sam x Reader (near the end), Del, Crowley.
Word count : 2,899
Written for : @samwinchesterbingo
Square : Doctor!Sam
Prompt : 'A doctor who lost their license and ability to practice, so they take up a job in organized crime doing surgeries for gang members who get shot/stabbed'
A/N : A big ol’ giant thank you to my girls @sorenmarie87 & @iflostreturntosteverogers for their help with this one.
Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.
Sam Winchester Bingo Masterlist.
Sam was pissed and drunk when he found himself in a bar, hammered beyond belief, but giving a complete stranger medical advice. “They may have taken away my license, but I’m still the best fucking doctor in this state.” he’d muttered, whiskey half way to his mouth.
“You got a number, doc?” The man in the suit asked. “Ya know, in case I need any more medical advice. I can pay in cash.”
“Yeah, why not.” Sam dug out an old business card and slid it over. “Office number is obviously no good, but the cell is.”
“Thanks doc. Hey, James? Doc’s tab is on me.” Sam got a pat on the back before the stranger left, leaving him with his drinks.
“Bring me the bottle.” he ordered, downing the last of his glass.
Sam had forgotten about that night at the bar, it blurred in with all the others, until a call came through. “Hello?”
“Hey, doc. Still need some patients? I got a few, but I need you here quick.”
“Uh.” Sam’s brow furrowed as he thought about it for a second. “Sure, I guess. Where do you need me?” Sam jotted down the address before saying “I can get there in about 30 minutes-”
“You’ve got 20. See ya there, doc.”
The line went dead, and Sam stared at his phone for a minute before he realized he had better get moving if he wanted to get paid.
Sam was confused to find himself at a bar. An empty bar. The only person to be seen was the bartender casually washing a glass. Had he gotten the address wrong? He pulled out the slip of paper from him pocket and checked it again. “Hey, is this-”
“You the doc?” the bartender eyed Sam and the bag he had slung over his shoulder.
“Yeah.” Bartender motioned to a door at the back, just behind the bar. “Thanks.” Sam nodded and headed for it. Opening the door, he was met with a dark stairway, concrete walls and shaky wood that smelled with the start of mold. He made his way down cautiously. It was dark, at first. The musty area he stepped down into made his brow furrow, but hearing a noise coming from the back had him moving deeper into the darkness.
Suddenly, as if they heard him, a door opened and light spilled out, forcing Sam to blink past the blinding light. “You’re late, doc.”
Sam glanced down at his watch and grunted. “And yet, I cut the commute down by 5 minutes. Next time, need me closer.”
“Real fucking comedian, ain’t you.” As soon as Sam was within reach, he was grabbed by his jacket and pulled into the room. “Got three guys here you need to look at.” He motioned to each man, once of who was laying on a table in obvious pain and covered in blood.
Sam froze taking them in. Expensive suits and the occasional gaudy jewelry were a big giveaway on the kind of people these guys were. Weapons scattered around confirmed it. “I don’t-” Sam was cut off by a hand hitting his chest. When he looked to the man he’d first met at the bar, then down to the hand on his chest, his mouth shut.
“That's 10k cash, doc. Just for looking them over and keeping your fucking mouth shut. How’s that sound?”
Sam nodded, taking the cash and pocketing it before stepping further into the room eyeing the guy on the table. “What happened?” No one answered. “If you expect me to help-”
“I’ll pay you an extra 5k not to ask stupid questions.” With a sigh, Sam nodded before pulling off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves. “Good.”
Sam felt eyes on him the entire time he worked. He pulled bullets out of holes, and then stitched them up as best he could. Got grumbled thanks before he moved on to the next person, and when he was done, when he was wiping his hands clean, he got a compliment.
“Nice stitch work, doc.”
“Don’t move him unless it’s to a hospital. He had internal bleeding. I stopped it as best I could, but.. I don’t have what I need here.”
“I’ll try and get you what I can for next time.” Sam was handed another wad of cash. “5k as promised.” Sam just took the money and nodded before grabbing his bag, his jacket, and heading out.
Sam had been getting the calls for over a year now. There were times the calls were more frequent than others, and then there were times where he didn’t hear anything for over a month. But they always called, and he always went back to that dank little bar’s basement.
When he saw the familiar number light up his screen, he grabbed his phone and started for his bag, accepting the call and tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder. But this time it was different.
“Doc?”
“Yeah, Del, it’s me.”
“Where are you?”
Sam froze, his usual bag in his hand. “At home. Where do you need me?”
“No time, doc. I’m coming to you. Get ready for company.”
Sam looked down at his phone confused as the line went dead. They never came to him, they never risked anything but that bar basement. How bad could it be if they couldn’t go there? He’d looked the other way for over a year, but now.. Now it was coming into his home. What had he gotten himself into?
When his door burst open, he jumped as 4 guys came in, guns out and eyes all around. He knew them, he’d stitched them up countless times but he’d never seen them like this. “Where can I put her?”
Sam's eyes went back to the door and his eyes went wide. It wasn’t one of the men, it wasn’t some big burly guy with a gun. It was a young woman, her beautiful dress covered in blood and her body limp in Del’s arms. “What the fuck-” he stopped himself from asking, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer. “Uh- upstairs. Any room.” Del nodded and hurried up the stairs and Sam grabbed his bag, ignoring the four other guys patrolling around his house.
Once Sam got up the stairs, he found Del putting her on the bed in the first room he’d found. Sam’s room. Sam hurried in, rolling up his sleeves as he gave her a once over to find the source of her bleeding.
“I uh- I need to call the boss, tell him where we are.. You got her?”
“Yeah.” Del just nodded before heading out of the room, blood covered hands digging the phone out of his pocket. “There’s a bathroom two doors down, and another off the kitchen if you guys need to clean up. Is anyone else hurt?” Sam looked back at him over his shoulder.
“No.. No just her. Everyone else is fine.” Sam gave him a nod and turned back to the girl bleeding out on his bed. “That’s part of the problem.” Del muttered, phone going to his ear.
Sam had carefully cut away a part of her dress to uncover the wound in her right shoulder. He winced when he saw it, he had to be careful. He needed to clean the area, needed to get a good look at what he was dealing with. Turning from her and towards his bag, he started pulling out everything he’d need. He glanced at her as he did, the poor girl had probably passed out in shock, but she was about to get a rude awakening.
He wasn’t wrong. As he poured water over the wound to clean it, she shot up screaming. Del came running back in to find Sam struggling to hold her and clean the wound. “She’s fucking strong.” Sam cursed as Del came to help.
“‘Course she is. She’s the boss's daughter.” Sam’s eyes shot to Del, and he just gave Sam a shrug. “Now you know why we ran to you.”
Her screams died to sobs as they let up, Sam working to get the area clear. “Which direction was she shot from, you know?”
“No.”
“Gonna need to check her back, help me roll her.” She whined as they rolled her and Sam noticed more blood on her back. “Looks like it went right through.”
“It burns.” she whined, and Sam’s eyes shot up to meet hers.
“Yeah, it’s gonna. Can you sit up?”
“I don’t know..”
“It would be easier for me if you can. If you can’t, that’s okay, I’ll make it work but then I’ll have to move you around again.” She looked down, like she was taking in the sight of her torn and bloody dress, and then she glanced to Del.
“He’s the best doctor we got.” Del assured her.
She glanced down again and Sam seemed to understand. “I don’t think that’s what she worried about, Del. I had to cut her dress and her bra strap.” Del looked to Sam, then her and he seemed to almost pale as it hit him.
“Oh shit, yeah, I-” He cleared his throat and stood. “I’ll uh- call if you need me. Your dads on his way, kid.”
Once Del was out of the room and the door was shut, Sam turned his attention to her again. “Do you want a clean shirt? You can borrow one of my buttons ups-”
“No.” she answered quietly, trying to sit up. Sam reached his hand out, and she took it, letting him help her sit on the edge of the bed. “I don’t want to ruin your clothes. Maybe after, though, if the offer still stands.”
“Okay. Looks like the bullet went right through. I’m gonna give it a poke to be sure, but I think you got lucky with this one.”
“Yeah.. lucky.” She was looking down at a hand in her lap while the other clutched at her dress to keep her decent.
“I’ve treated much worse.” She hissed, her body going stiff when he pushed a finger into her wound and felt around to be sure.
She was quiet and stiff until he was done. “You really a doctor?” He nodded. “Why do you work for us? Why not at a hospital?”
He glanced from her wound to her eyes as he reached for the bag and brought it onto his lap. “I made a mistake. Lost my license.”
“What mistake was that?”
Sam sighed, not speaking as he worked, the bag eventually falling back to the floor. She hissed again when he started to stitch up the wound in her back, and that's when he finally answered. “I trusted someone.” She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “I had a relationship with a nurse. We kept it quiet, workplace romance and all, but when it ended.. She took it bad, then made it her mission to take me down.”
“What a bitch.” she spat through teeth clenched in pain.
Sam chuckled softly. “You don’t even know her.”
“Doesn’t make it less bullshit.” she answered. Sam nodded, not that she saw it. “Jesus fuck!” she cried out, body jerking away from him.
“Hold still.” He put a hand on her shoulder to hold her in place.
“Where is my bloody daughter!” came a booming voice from downstairs. “Del!” A moment later, Sam’s bedroom door burst open. “Love?”
“Hi, daddy.” she breathed out.
“Oh, love.” He stepped towards her, taking her face in his hand, making her look up at him. “Are you alright, Darling?”
“I will be. Right?” she asked Sam, not taking her eyes off her father, though she hissed again.
“Yeah, went right through. As long as you keep it clean and take it easy, you should be good.”
The man turned his gaze to Sam. “Who the bloody hell are you and why is my daughter half-”
“Daddy.” she cut him off, and he looked at her again. “He’s the doctor Del’s been using. He’s taking good care of me, I promise.” She shifted again, her shoulder moving as she winced in pain.
“Do you not have anything for the bloody pain?” he snapped.
“You’re going to need to see someone with a license for that.” Sam answered curtly as he finished and wiped the area clean again. “But I might have something leftover in the bag. No promises though. Del knows what to look for. Del?” Sam called out.
“On it, doc.” he answered, rushing in from where he’d been standing outside the door. Del rooted through the bag while Sam bandaged up her back. “Lucky you, three left.” Del held up the prescription bottle and rattled them around. “One or two?”
“One.” Sam finished up with her back and turned his attention to the wound in the front.
“I’ll get you some water.” Del told her after handing her the pill. He left the room and a minute later returned with a bottle of water from Sam’s fridge.
“Nothing stronger, huh?” she teased, taking the bottle.
“Not while on those, no.” Sam shut her down. “Ready for round two?”
Knocking back the pill with a mouthful of water, she took a moment after swallowing to nod at Sam. “Yeah. I think I am.”
Sam was washing his hands in the en suite while the girl in his room changed out of her dress. “Sorry I don’t have anything that fits you better.”
“It’s fine.” she called back. “Not easy getting dressed with this, though.”
“Do you need help?” Sam’s head turned a touch more towards the door, though he remained focused on getting the blood out from under his nails.
“I think I got it..”
Once his hands were clean, Sam waited, his ass leaning on the bathroom counter. It was quiet. “You good?”
“Give me a damn minute.” she snapped. “Buttons are hard when you can barely move your arm.”
Sam chuckled. “I can help with those. You decent enough?”
“I guess.” she muttered, glancing up when the door opened.
When Sam saw her, he did his best not to let it affect him. He tried to keep his face schooled as he crossed the room and reached for the buttons. She’d gotten two in the middle done, but the rest remained open and she did her best to clutch the shirt closed since her bra was now as trash as her dress. He tried to focus on the material between his fingers, and not on the girl staring up at him. Sam licked his lips as he did one button after the other.
“Love.” Her father's voice sounded from behind Sam. “Let’s go, we’re leaving.”
“I think I should stick with the doc, daddy.” she answered, never looking away from Sam.
“Not bloody happening.” he snapped.
“Who better to take care of me and my wound?” she answered, using logic as Sam finished up the buttons. “I mean, if it gets infected, or it gets re-opened, you’re just going to call him in to fix it, right? I might as well stay for a few days. You know, until it’s healed enough for me to do things on my own.” Finally tearing her eyes away from Sam she looked to her father. “Who’s going to help me at home? Del? You want him helping me out of my jammies at night, daddy?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “What about in the shower? Would you like Del to-”
“Enough.” he snapped.
“The doc is profesh, daddy. One hundred percent. Didn’t even try a glance at my tits once.”
“You touch my daughter and-”
“I got it.” Sam answered. “She’ll have her own room and you can visit any time.”
“Like I’d let you bloody stop me.” he growled out at Sam. “You’ll call, love?”
“Like clockwork, daddy.” She smiled innocently at him. With a grunt, the man left, and Sam hoped he took the others with him. He wanted to freely move around his own space again without bumping into some suit with a gun. “Can’t believe he agreed to it.” she chuckled.
“I feel like I know him.. Like I’ve seen him before.” Sam mused as he started stripping his bed of blood soaked linens.
“You are our doctor.” She pointed out, moving to stand aside and watch him.
He shook his head. “I’ve never seen anyone higher than Del.” Sam answered. “I don’t even know who’s above him, who I technically work for. I get paid for no questions.”
“I noticed.” she pointed to his dresser, and when he turned, he saw what he expected to be his usual wad of cash payment. “My father is who you work for, technically.” her eyes were back on Sam again. “His birth name, back in Scotland was Fergus MacLeod.”
Sam’s brow furrowed as he yanked off the fitted sheet to join the rest. “Never heard of him.”
“You might know him by another name. When he came to America, he chose a new one. Crowley.” Sam froze, turning to look at her. That's a name everyone knew, and everyone knew to avoid it. “Welcome to the family.” she gave him a half smile. “Now, are you really going to make me stay in a different room than you?”
“Yes!”
“Bummer.” she pouted before heading out to explore the rest of his home.
*If you like this, please consider supporting my work*
Alternatively, the one where Bucky is a baker and Sam’s a doctor.
Bucky hummed as he took the tray of cookies out the oven, setting them on the counter.
“Ooh, something smells good.” Sam said, wrapping his arms around him.
“Mmm.” Bucky removed his oven gloves, and turned so his back was against the counter, his husband’s hands holding his waist, his own around Sam’s neck. “How’d the surgery go today?”
“Good.” Sam answered, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek.
“Don’t even think about swigging a cookie, mister. After dinner. Archie and Luna need feeding.”
“No fair.” Sam pouted.
“My kitchen, my rules, Sam.” Bucky cupped his husband’s face, and kissed him deeply. “Hurry up with the feeding, and I’ll give you a little desert before dinner.”
“You’re not talking about cookies anymore, are you?” Sam murmured, pressing his lips to Bucky’s neck.
“Nope.” Bucky answered breathlessly.
Sam nuzzled the spot just below his husband’s ear. “I love you.”
Summary: Your best friend has an idea of how you can ask out Sam.
Square Filled: doctor!Sam
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Sam x Reader, Dean x Rachael (OFC)
Word Count: 510
Warning(s): Pretend fainting.
A/N: This was written for @spnaubingo. Also, I don’t own the gif I used. This fic is based on a writing prompt I found on pinterest. “You’re a doctor and my friend’s been trying to get me a date so she fake-passed-out on the sidewalk to draw your attention towards us she’s okay I swear.”
Rachael brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she watched you and Sam talk. She grinned as the wheels started turning. There was no way she was leaving this party until you asked Sam out. It was obvious by your behavior that you liked him and as your best friend, she wanted to help. You knew your second mom (god rest her soul) would approve. She would always joke that you needed to find someone tall that you could climb like a tree.
That's when an idea struck. When Dean first introduced the two of them, she remembered that Sam said he was a doctor. All I have to do is a little acting, and that should do the trick. Okay, that sidewalk is clear… so let’s make this convincing.
You really wanted to slip away from the party for a few minutes and just talk to your best friend, but she was nowhere to be found. Did she really pull an Irish Goodbye on me? No wait, she would've told Dean that she was leaving, so where in the hell did she go?
That’s when you spotted her lying on the sidewalk face down. You froze and then darted towards her. “Rachael? No, fuck…” You had no idea what to do until you rolled her onto her back and brushed her hair back from her face. Her eyes popped open and you sighed in relief. You slapped her in the shoulder as she sat up and asked her what in the hell she was doing.
“I’m trying to get you a date, now yell for Sam, please?” Rachael laid back down on the sidewalk and closed her eyes. You had your doubts that this plan was actually going to work.
“Sam, I need your help!”
“What’s wrong?” You could tell that he ran all the way from the backyard just to see what was going on. “Y/N, are you okay?” He anxiously checked you for any bumps and bruises.
“I’m fine, but Rachael needs your help.” You bit your lower lip as Sam bent down and started checking her for any sign on injury.
“I don’t see anything wrong, but we can move her inside so I can examine her further.”
“Hey Sam?”
“Yeah, Y/N?” He picked Rachael up from the sidewalk and had her in his arms as he moved towards the front door. You paused behind as you gathered your courage to finally ask him out.
“Would you - maybe - want to go on a date sometime?”
“Where’s this coming from?”
“I like you, and Rachael said it would make her feel better if she knew someone like you was taking care of me.”
“Y/N..?”
“Yes Sam?”
“She’s not really passed out is she?” You giggled and shook your head no. Sam smiled as the three of you made your way through the house. You opened the backdoor for Sam and he poked his head out of the opening. “Dean, come get your girlfriend! I have a date to plan!”
d i s c l a i m e r : i do not own the rights to the tv series “grey’s anatomy”, nor do i own the plot. all credits goes to the writers. the OC characters belong to me, and the ideas are mine.
p a i r i n g : surgical intern!tom holland x surgical intern!reader
w a r n i n g s : blood, surgical cases, surgical definitions/terms
s u m m a r y : no one told them it would be this hard, especially when they’re accepted to intern at the best hospital in the u.s. as future surgeons, it’s their duty to work alongside legends, but a hospital is chaotic, and these 6 friends expect nothing but the worst.
( add yourself to the taglist )
- Chapter One: Rough First Day
- Chapter Two: The New Mentors
- Chapter Three: The Attendings
- Chapter Four: Accidents Happen
- Chapter Five: 2:30am Train Wrecks
- Chapter Six: The Night Shift (pt.1)
- Chapter Seven: The Night Shift (pt.2)
