#sparklingsin

- @sparklingsin

Oh, I'm writing it! 😁 It's about halfway done. It's just that I have the attention span of a squirrel on coke, so I'm constantly flitting between WIPs. Currently working on a different Sam x reader x Dean fic, but I will get back to the free use one eventually! Let me give you a nugget of it so you can see the vibes:

You just have time to take a sharp breath before he punches into you. It still knocks the air out of you and you cry out. One of Dean’s fists goes back to your dress, holding it bunched at your side, the fabric stretching over your tits and stomach, his other hand holding him up over you. You squeeze your eyes shut, feel wetness gushing out of you at Dean’s demanding movement, your hands scrambling for something to hold on to. Dean gives a long groan on the first few thrusts, the slight crack in his voice betraying who’s really in charge here. But it doesn’t matter. The illusion is what makes it so good. Your head rolls to the side, eyebrows drawn together as Dean picks a steady, deep rhythm. He feels humongous inside you, his cock just barely bumping into that part of you that he usually focuses on so diligently. This way it’s like an itch he’s only blowing on. Somehow making it worse and better at the same time. He’s only focused on his pleasure, but of course, in that, he’s really focused on yours.  You open your eyes, just a little, your body shaken back and forth by Dean’s thrusts. You’re looking straight at the windshield. The glare of the sun and the dust from the road obscure Sam on the other side, but not completely. You see him sit there, his silhouette, unmoving. As he watches. He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t get out and join in. When Dean gets like this, he always waits. You haven’t quite understood why that is. When you first started doing this, a good while ago now, Sam was the one leading the charge. Talking to you so diligently, sweet degradation so cutting and intimate he usually had you crying before your first orgasm. But he’s so ready to give up the spotlight for his brother. Dean keeps grunting over you. He might be mad enough at you to fuck you like you’re just a slab of flesh, but he’s huffing and puffing. When he’s sweet, when you’re not playing like this, or playing differently, he can sometimes put himself in a frenzy with how he’s pouring himself over you. Sweetest pussy in the world, and, just one more, baby, just let me make you come one more time, please. But not now. His thrusts become harder, and you close your eyes. The sun is warm on your face, there’s birdsong and Dean’s grunts, but other than that, it’s perfectly quiet. A soft breeze that tickles your skin. Sam’s eyes on you through that windshield, hidden but attentive. Pleasure in you, soft and demanding, but outside of your control. Not yours to worry about today.