Sam Winchester giving (f)reader a pelvic massage… can just imagine his big body between your legs with your highs on his hips as he massages you cus you have bad pains down in your tum tum…
sam winchester x f!reader 708 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒓
the bed sheets were soft beneath you, cold against the skin of your lower back from where your shirt was bunched up around your waist. it’d been hours and the pains in your abdomen had showed no signs of showing mercy, even doubling down and making home in your stomach no matter what you tried to do. paracetamol seemed to intensify the pain, a heating pad didn’t work and just burned against your skin, and a nice salt bath made your limbs feel tingly and uncomfortable.
with every solution being met with rejection from your body, you had long given up and laid on your bed, sulking and mentally begging for your cramps to let up even just a little. you knew you’d get little to no sleep later in the night, especially if they seemed to be getting worse with each passing moment, although, you also knew that thinking about it was making it worse. did you care at that moment? no. in hindsight, should you have? absolutely.
the hours passed as slow as a snail heading to texas from kansas; one you were tearing up, two you were throwing your pillows across the room, three you were humming to yourself, four you felt like you were about to run for world domination. you were the most bored you ever had been, which was pretty hard to top considering the endless days you had spent travelling in dean’s impala. only the lord knew how many times you had cussed him out for putting you in those situations.
speaking of the man above, apparently he, not the cramps, took mercy on you, finishing up your boyfriend’s hunt earlier than expected and sending him back home to end what felt like your demise.
you hadn’t even realised he was back until he was literally standing infront of you, snapping you out of your staring contest with the ceiling, your eyes meeting his as they stared back at you. his brow raised as he took notice of your slight pout that you thought you were being subtle with. newsflash, trying to do anything subtle to a man who hunts monsters for a being was like trying to catch santa under the tree when you were a kid: it wasn’t possible, but you tried anyway.
"what’s that look for? something happen while i was gone?" there was that hint of concern in his voice when he spoke, like he obviously knew something was wrong, but he was still yet to find out what, and that only made his lips curve into a frown. he hated seeing you upset, and it made him feel even worse when he had no idea what the cause was or how he could help you through it.
you let out a drawn out sigh, shifting against the sheets and resting your hands atop your stomach, absently applying pressure to hit that one spot, only for the pains to mock you and move to another spot. "my stomach hurts, and literally nothing will make them go away." you whined, your lips drawing deeper into a pout as your eyes looked up at him, silently begging for him to do something like he always did.
a smile took over his features when you told him your reasoning, his shoulders slumping in relief now that he knew what he could do to help you and lift your mood. without a word, he stripped off his shirt and settled between your legs, his head resting heavy on your chest as his hands roamed down to your belly once he let you adjust to get comfortable with his weight now draped ontop of you. his palms made home on your lower abdomen, the skin to skin contact heating them up and applying that heat that was just right.
moments of silence went by as you both let the domestic and calming position drift over like a warm blanket. he let his thumbs gently caress the soft skin of your stomach, giving you that extra sense of comfort, while your hands had made their way to the back of his head, simply resting there with the occasional scratch to his scalp or play of the long strands that seeped through your fingers.
