#kodi writes

When you started dating Matt, you'd made sure to buy pure silk pajamas so you could cuddle with him without it setting off his sensitive touch receptors. The physical reminder of how much you care makes his body ache with love, as if he can feel your affection seeping into him, filling the cracks of his own self-hatred and making him feel whole in a way he's searched for his entire life.

You have a book balancing on his back, your fingers flipping to the next page periodically. The book you're reading is a sci-fi, something you'd picked out on the date he'd taken you on not too long ago, he knows this because you'd been talking about it— the plot, ins and outs of the world-building, and complexity of the characters.

But he didn't mind listening, in fact, he enjoyed it thoroughly.

"Sweetheart?" Matt's tired voice breaks through the comfortable silence of the room quietly, breaking your concentration. He hears you reply with hum.

"Would you mind reading to me? I want to hear your voice," He requests, sinking further into you.

Matt can almost hear the smile that graces your face, your heart-rate picking up ever so slightly before it settles back down.

"'Course I can, honey," Your reply is thick with tenderness, your love for him palpable.

One of your hands drifts up to his head, fingers beginning to thread through his soft locks, short nails lightly scraping against his scalp. Your voice is soft and smooth, melting into his ears pleasantly. The words flow out of your mouth flawlessly, not a single pause of hesitation or crack. He is completely pliable under your touch, softening at the sensation of your hand in his hair and the sound of your sweet voice.

It isn't long before you feel Matt's body go limp in your grip, his breathing an even inhale and exhale. Your fond smile only deepens as you close the book and carefully lean over to place it on the nightstand, flicking off the bedside lamp within the same movement. You lean down and press a chaste kiss to his forehead, to which he leans into before nuzzling back into you.

Matt doesn't think heaven could compare; or maybe this is his heaven, forever with the person his heart beats for, safe and sound.

☆

- Puppy!Sam who whimpers when you tug on his ears or his tail. They're both so soft and you love the sounds he makes when you do it, which means you can't help but do it all the time. He whines and calls you 'cruel' under his breath, but still leans into your hand and licks your palm, eating up the attention you provide.

- Puppy!Sam who waits at the front door while you're out collecting information or interviewing suspects, growing more impatient every minute you're gone. When he finally hears the door open and sees your face again, he's on you instantly. His face pressing into the column of your throat, arms wrapping tightly around your torso, tail thumping audibly against himself. You giggle and kiss his cheek, scratching behind his ears in the way you know he likes.

- Puppy!Sam who's eyes widen when he sees the surprise you've been hiding from him all day; a black leather collar with 'Sammy' engraved on a silver bone tag. He's, somehow, even more smitten with you than he was before. You fasten it around his neck yourself, and he gets pathetically hard when he feels the material of it dig lightly into the sensitive skin of his throat.

- Puppy!Sam who gets dizzy at the mere smell of you. He drowns himself in your scent whenever he can, the mix of the natural musk of your skin and your strawberry body wash soothes him instantly. Even better if you've just returned from a hunt and reek of sweat and dirt; he'll bury his face into any part of your skin that you have exposed, ignoring your protests about how you need to shower.

- Puppy!Sam who paws at you. When he wants your attention, he grabs you and squeezes lightly until you stop whatever you're doing and turn your attention to him. You think it's adorable and have pointed it out before, which leads him to flushing a pretty pink that makes you kiss his cheeks incessantly.

- Puppy!Sam who uses his puppy dog eyes to his advantage, and it works on you every single time. He'll be begging for you to look at him or pet him while you're busy, leading to you getting a bit annoyed with him. But when he apologises and gazes at you with his big, wide eyes, you can't help but melt and instantly give into his demands, dropping whatever it is you were previously doing.

Hope you guys enjoy this as much I enjoyed writing it! We need more Puppy!Sam content

Puppy!Dean HCs will also be posted soon ;)

Dean never sees you again after that day.

He remembers it vividly, 17 year old Dean Winchester who'd never known anything but violence and rage and survival, finally wanting something; someone.

He'd begged his father to stay. Silent, of course, because if his father heard him begging outloud he'd get a smack across the head and a strong talking to about being a real man.

The cherry on top would be the speech, though, the he shouldn't be hung up on a girl he barely knows — even though you know Dean better than anyone else ever has or ever will — because it makes him not only soft, but foolish too.

He'd spent the entire day with you. Drinking slushies that gave you both brain freezes, eating enough sugar that he's surprised his heart didnt give out, laughing until his stomach ached and his cheeks were pink.

He'd let you hold his hand throughout, silently console him where words failed you both.

At the end, Dean stood across from you. His heart beat in his chest, ready to leap out where he'd catch it and offer it to you without a second thought.

But he didn't, didn't dare risk staining you with his tainted blood. Cursed, even.

Instead, he let you wrap him up in your warm, warm arms, cradle him so gently that he'll cling to this moment for the rest of his miserable life, and worst of all, you let him cry into your shoulder.

Hot, salty tears dampening the material of your sweatered shoulder, soaking into it.

But you didn't care. You stood there and soaked up all his sadness and hurt until his dad was shouting at him to hurry it up.

Then, you pulled back, wiping off his wettened cheeks with your sleeve, a melancholy smile gracing your lips; melancholy, you'd taught him that word, giggled light heartedly when he'd stared at you with his wide, confused eyes.

Dean clung to your hand, reluctant.

You'd pried him off, whispering that it was okay and you're sure you'd see him again.