#jpad

I’ve never really requested before so I hope this makes sense!! 🫶

⁠♡ 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝓮

Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!reader (hunter)

CW: 18+ MDNI, canon violence & injuries, friends to lovers, language, oral & fingering (f receiving), some overstim, protected pinv, pet names, lots of precious fluff <3

WC: 2.5K

A/n: I love episode-specific requests! Anything with season 1 Sammy is a plus. He looked so cute with his metal bracket in his giant dog kennel omg

“They were just people?” Dean glanced at you in the rearview mirror, his brows knit in confusion.

“Very fucked up, inbred people who hunted humans for sport—yes.”

Sam chuckled in that effortlessly handsome way, his eyes flashing to you briefly before returning to his lap. 

The air in the Impala was uncomfortably thick, bordering on oppressive. 

It wasn’t what he said. He didn’t say anything. 

You had been knocked down, quickly scrambling backwards, reaching a discarded hatchet on the ground. The man had you lined in his sights. A gunshot erupted and you waited for the pain to come, or your world to go dark. He collapsed, nearly landing on you. Sam rushed to your side, his hand brushing hair out of your face while he scanned you for injuries. His rough pad quickly traced your jawline 

It was the way he looked at you when he realized you weren’t hurt. Relief that he didn’t have to try and live without you. Panic at how close he came to losing you. He quickly helped you to your feet and pulled you towards him with his big hand firmly on the back of your neck, pressing you tight against his chest. Close enough to hear his pulse hammering and his breath shaking.

“Sam…”

He shook his head, breaking whatever trance he had fallen into, realizing the danger was far from over. He quickly released you so you could regroup with Dean and the sheriff's deputy.

Now, he stared out the window hoping that you hadn’t clocked his moment of weakness. 

What was an appropriate amount of time to wait after the tragic loss of a partner? Anyway, you'd probably just dismiss him as your best friend’s lovesick kid brother.

You stopped at the small diner near the motel. Dean somehow still had an appetite—yours was gone after seeing the jars of human teeth and other miscellaneous nastiness. 

Even after being kept in a human-sized iron dog kennel for more than a day, Sam was barely touching his food. Dean side-eyed him, stealing fries from his plate without so much as a glance.

Sensing awkward tension that he had no interest in talking about, Dean dropped you both off at the motel. You were dirty and sore. Disgusted from being manhandled by those animals. Grateful you had gotten a tetanus shot in the last ten years given the large gash on your low back from a piece of scrap metal. 

“Mind if I shower first?” 

Sam nodded, graciously insisting, still struggling to maintain eye contact for more than a millisecond. 

You were eager to wash the grime and the tension from your aching muscles. 

While you showered, Sam started running lines in his head. Possible scenarios. Your reactions. Preparing himself for the rejection. Coming close to psyching himself out. 

“Hey, Sam?” 

Your voice calling him from the bathroom brought him back. The sound of his name on your tongue always made his heart race. 

He stood up quickly, making his way to the door.

“Y-yeah?” 

You needed him to take a look at the cut on your back. It already felt angry and was bleeding again after drying off. 

He grabbed the med kid and gingerly opened the door, asking again if it was okay that he entered. 

You had put your bottoms on, a pair of cotton shorts that sat low on your hips, and a sports bra, but you were clutching a towel, keeping your chest covered. He swallowed hard. 

He’d seen you in your swimsuit a handful of times when you’d take advantage of being at a motel with a pool, or at the lake in the summer. This was different somehow.  

You turned your back to him, and he winced at the painful looking gash. 

“I might need to throw a stitch or two in that. It’s pretty deep.” 

You groaned but were relieved it was Sam taking care of it. Despite having the man-equivalent of bear paws, he was soft and delicate when the task required it. 

He closed the toilet lid and sat down to get a better angle and to work comfortably. 

“Uh..just, c’mere.” He guided you to stand in front of him with a carefully-placed hand on your hip. You stumbled a bit but his firm grip steadied you. Your breath hitched slightly at the way his calloused pads grazed the soft skin in between your hips. 

Trying to still his shaking hands, he took a deep breath and you felt the warm puff of air against the dip in your back. 

“Try and stay still, ‘kay?” 

You nodded in response.

He got to work sanitizing the wound. The sting from the antiseptic made you twitch. He apologized quietly and rubbed his thumb on your side to comfort you. You winced when he threw each stitch, but he was quick and gentle. Once he cut the excess string, you finally broke the silence. 

“So…Sam? Can we talk?” 

His eyes widened and he hummed in response. 

“What was that? The look you gave me…the way you—I don’t know. Never mind.” You chuckled nervously, gently shaking your head. 

“Hey—“

Gently turning you around to face him, he took a moment to collect himself while admiring your soft expression.

“I was scared. Really fucking scared. That I might have lost you. I couldn’t—can’t.” He shook his head, trying to extinguish the thought. “It made me realize that I’ve wasted a lot of time.” 

You frowned and tilted your head slightly. One of the small things you did that made his heart race and lips curl into a smile. 

His mouth was dry, making the attempt to wet his lips impossible.

“I, uh—I love you. I always have.” He smiled to himself, a relieved sigh escaping him. It felt so right hearing himself say it. “I’m crazy about you. I miss you when you leave for five minutes, I can’t stand being away from you…”

“Sam—“

It was like he didn’t even hear you. 

“But I can’t keep pretending anymore. I don’t want to be just friends anymore. When I see you with someone else I just—“

“SAM.”

He finally looks up at you with glossy eyes and that puppy-dog expression. 

You gripped his face with both hands, dropping the towel, and pulled him towards you, kissing him harder than he was prepared for. He was too shocked to react. He was still holding the surgical thread and scissors in his hands when you pulled away. 

Your small fingers threaded through his fluffy bangs. A simple gesture that always made him melt. He looked up at you like you’d hung the moon—hell, like you created the damn thing. His eyes drifted down, briefly eyeing your newly exposed skin. 

“Me too, Sam.” 

He quickly abandoned the supplies in his hand. The scissors dropped to the floor with a metallic clatter. He stood up quickly and was on you. Large hands threaded in your hair, tilting your head back to kiss you deeply. He only broke contact enough to breathe before he was swallowing your tiny gasps and moans. 

“Say it—please.”

You let out a breathy giggle. “Say what?” 

He groaned. Sam had a love-hate relationship with your teasing. 

“Tell me that you love me. Please, I need to hear it.” 

You pulled back enough to look at him with your forehead almost touching his. It was hard not to get lost in his eyes. They were swirling nebulas of green, blue, and brown. 

“I love you, Sam Win—“ 

He moaned against you. A beautiful sound that shot straight to your core. He lifted you with both hands cradling the backs of your thighs. His rough pads squeezed your flesh while he carried you out of the dingy motel bathroom.

He laid you on the mattress like you were delicate, but his mouth moved like he was starving. His tongue sliding against yours. Teeth occasionally nipping at your bottom lip. He pulled away to admire you beneath him—your swollen lips and flushed cheeks, only a thin layer of fabric separating him from the breasts he’d dreamt about for years. You pressed your thighs together at the sight of him towering over you, but you knew you were safe with him. 

“You have no idea what you do to me, baby.” 

Your cheeks flushed at the pet name. 

“Yeah? Show me, Sam.” 

The look on your face was threatening to undo him. He pulled off his shirt and popped the button on his jeans before kicking them off and kneeling over you again. The sight of him—perfectly toned, a deep v of muscles continuing below the waistband of his boxers, his soft, golden skin—made your mouth water. Your cocky attitude was lost when you saw the hard line straining against the thin fabric of his boxers. A man that sweet and shy had no business being that gifted. 

“You okay?” 

Now it was your turn to feel nervous. You nodded and tried to swallow the dry lump in your throat. 

“I’m gonna take care of you-–always gonna take care of you.” 

Sensing your apprehension, he kissed you softly and felt you start to relax while he traced his fingers across your collarbone, slowly moving to tease the edge of your bra. 

“Can I take this off?” 

You hummed, nodding more eagerly as you helped him unclasp it, and discarding it on the floor. 

He admired you for a moment like you were a piece of fine art. He finally palmed your breast, gently rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger. His mouth landed on the other, sucking the hardened peak and nipping gently causing your breath to hitch. 

His palm trailed down your belly, fingertips pressing into your soft flesh, and skirted the edge of your waistband.

“Tell me what you need.”  

“Please touch me—I need you.” 

He felt like he had died and gone to heaven. His hand slid past the elastic and he felt nothing but your soft skin above your wet, puffy folds. 

“Fuck, no panties?” 

You smiled nervously and shrugged. “I don’t like wearing them to bed—sue me.” 

He quickly pulled your shorts down and quietly moaned at the sight. He was desperate to bury his face between your legs—he’d had dreams about how sweet you taste. How soft and warm you feel. The sounds you’d make when he made you come. This was putting all of those fantasies to shame.

You closed your knees anxiously, but his palms gently parted your thighs for him. 

“Can I? Please? Wanna taste you.” 

You hummed sweetly and relaxed back into the plush comforter.

He slid two fingers though your slit and coated them in your wetness. He couldn’t help but taste you, sucking the sweetness off both of his digits before pressing them past your tight entrance. 

You wrapped around him like a velvety glove and the sound he drew from you was so sweet and melodic. Once he wrapped those pretty lips around your clit, every ounce of nervous energy was gone. He switched between broad licks and rhythmic sucking, every speed and variation, trying to figure out what you needed. All the while thrusting his curled fingers in your dripping cunt, filling the room with obscenely wet sounds. 

You moaned and twitched, responding to every touch. It was too much and not enough. He laid an arm across your belly to keep you still and he couldn’t help but paw at your soft breasts. 

When your orgasm hit, he kept pumping his fingers and massaging that sweet spot deep inside, where his long fingers hit perfectly. Your thighs closed around him, but his broad shoulders left him plenty of room to work. Once your fingers started tugging at his locks and you wiggled away from the oversensitivity, he slowly withdrew his fingers and admired the creamy wetness coating them from your climax. 

He planted a soft kiss on your thigh and gave you a moment to come down. He left to grab a condom from his duffle bag. When he turned toward you again, he found you sitting on your heels with a pretty little smile, waiting for him to come back. He did his best to commit the image to memory. 

“Can I put it on?” You held your hand out and gestured towards the silver wrapper.

He huffed a weak laugh watching you use your teeth to tear at the corner, then at your proud little smirk when you finally got it open. 

You tugged the waistband of his boxers down and stared in wonder at the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen. Flushed pink tip that was already leaking precome. You gave him a few pumps before he caught your wrist. 

“Fiiine.” You playfully rolled your eyes and finally rolled the condom down slowly. You could barely fit a hand around him and he felt so heavy. 

He kissed you again and you could still taste your sweet arousal on his lips. Laying down, he rolled you on top of him and let his cock settle against your tight entrance.

“You’re so pretty, Sammy.” 

A pink blush spread across his face and he laughed nervously. “I think that’s my line, sweetheart.” 

You raised your hips and rubbed his swollen tip through your sensitive folds before lowering yourself down onto him. The stretch was all you imagined but your walls slowly fluttered to accommodate him perfectly. His fingertips pressed tightly into the plush flesh of your hips as he encouraged you to take him deeper. 

Your head lolled back, and you softly mewled as you settled in his lap. You only gave yourself a moment to adjust before bracing your hands on his chest and rocking your hips. 

“Fuck—you feel so good.” He gripped you tightly and guided you along his length, bucking his hips up to thrust into you.  Sam watched as your tiny fingers started rubbing your clit, chasing your high again. 

“Dirty girl.” He mumbled as he flipped you over without pulling out. 

He brushed your hand aside, replacing it with his own, and rubbed tight circles around the sensitive bud. His hips rocked perfectly to massage your g-spot making your eyes roll back. 

“Say it—again. Please.” 

Your eyes fluttered open and your lips turned into a soft smile.

He stilled his hips enough to make you whine at the loss of friction. 

“love you, Sam—soo much.” 

He leaned over you and drank the words in like he was parched. 

“Sounds better every time I hear it.” 

His hips snapped against yours at a blinding pace, his fingers petting your clit to match his thrusts. It took no time for you to gush around him again, screaming his name like it was the only word you knew anymore. The way your walls pulsed rhythmically around him milked him dry, filling the condom up, but wishing it was you. 

Sam nearly collapsed on you. Just propping himself up on his forearms and pressing his forehead against yours. Both of you panting and shimmering with sweat. 

After another shower, together this time, and throwing one of his soft t-shirts on, you slipped into the cool sheets together. He pulled your back flush against his chest, letting you nuzzle into his arm like a pillow. With his head tucked against your shoulder, the last thing you heard before being pulled under by exhaustion was another quiet I love you. 

sam winchester in supernatural

Jared Padalecki and Leighton Meester are expected to start re-production for ‘Guarding Stars’ next month :)