Supernatural Smut [REQUESTS CLOSED]

Thanksgiving X Sam Winchester (Smut)

Happy Thanksgiving guys!! Hope you are thankful for this story!! Sorry that was bad XD

"Why the hell am I the only one doing all the cooking?"

"Excuse me?" Dean retorts, snatching a beer off the counter. "I helped!"

"When?"

"Uh," he stutters, before pouring a bit of his beer into the cranberry sauce. "There! I helped."

"Dean!" you scold. "That isn't helping."

"What? It gives it some flavor," he says, raising his eyebrows at you.

"What are you two bickering about?" Sam asks as he walks in.

"Your doofus brother isn't helping me out. And neither are you! Get to work, boys!"

Jack pokes his head out from behind Sam. "Can I help?"

"Jack!" you exclaim, beaming at the boys. "See? That's what a real gentleman does. Helps out the tired and overworked young lady. Thank you Jack. Can you cut up the potatoes for me please?"

Jack smiles and nods before traveling over to the potatoes, sitting down, and starts to chop them. You give the boys a look like, "See?" They both roll their eyes at you, but Sam has a small smile stuck at the corner of his mouth. Dean walks out of the kitchen, sipping his beer, and Sam leans against the wall, glancing at you.

"What?" you ask, blushing. You look down at yourself.

You're wearing a worn out denim apron that you made yourself. Flour covers it, along with other mystery stains. Your hair is up in a messy bun, tied with a (Y/Favorite color) bow. You're wearing a simple dark red shirt with faded jeans and grey Converse. Nothing special.

"Nothing," he responds, grinning at you.

That fucker knows what he's doing.

Sam pushes your hand down, making you let go of the spatula you had in your hand. You turn your back to the counter as Sam approaches you. He leans in close and you suck in a breath before he wipes away some flour off your face.

Your cheeks must be blazing red.

"(Y/N)?" Jack calls. "I finished cutting up the potatoes."

"Thank you Jack," you answer, your voice slightly cracking.

After all is said and done, you all enjoy a nice Thanksgiving dinner. Jack thoroughly enjoys the entire meal, from the food to the conversation. He's smiling the whole time, which makes you smile as well.

"(Y/N)?" Jack asks.

"Yes, Jack?"

"Why do you keep looking at Sam like that?"

Your fork drops. "Um, excuse me?"

"You have been exchanging looks with Sam all dinner. Is there-"

Jack is cut off by Dean's roaring laughter. Dean smacks the table in amusement. Both you and Sam are deep shades of crimson. Even Cas has a small smile on his face.

"Oh, little brother, Jack just outted you! I'm starting to like you more and more, kid!"

"Dean!"

He looks at you, eyes wide. "What?"

"Shut up!"

His grin just gets bigger. "Maybe you two should go upstairs and uh, tell each other what you're thankful for."

"Dean!" you and Sam scold.

Cas appears next to you and Sam and zaps you upstairs. "There," he says before vanishing.

You both look at each other before you sit down on the bed and sigh. "Well, I'm thankful we don't have to sit between Dean and Cas's eye-fucking."

Sam laughs, sitting down next to you. "I'm thankful we don't have to hear about every tiny detail in Jack's life."

"I'm thankful I don't have to eat that disgusting pie Dean made."

"I'm thankful I'm up here with you."

"I'm thankful-" you pause, his words sinking in. "You what?"

"I said," he repeats, grabbing your hands, "I'm thankful I'm up here with you."

You blush. "I'm thankful for that too."

Sam leans forward ever so slightly and you close the distance, placing a kiss on his lips. He lets go of your hands and puts one of his big, strong hands into your hair. He tugs slightly and you moan into his mouth.

He pulls away, throwing his shirt off as you discard yours. You both remove your pants and Sam climbs on top of you, grinding against your hips. You groan, running your hands up and down his chest. He removes his boxers along with your bra and underwear, tracing your body with his fingers.

Sam takes your hands and holds them above your head, pressing on your wrists. He kisses up and down your neck, leaving hickeys for sure. His bites were passionate.

"You ready, baby?" he whispers, biting your ear.

"Yes," you moan.

He finally enters you, slowly at first, then gaining in speed. Your wrists burn from the power of his hands and the headboard hits the wall repeatedly. The room is filled with moans and groans, until you reach that final peak of pleasure and come, screaming Sam's name.

A couple minutes later, he does the same, muttering, "Ah fuck, (Y/N)!"

As you lay in bed, breathing heavily, covered in sweat, Sam places a kiss on your shoulder. "I'm thankful I got to share that with you."

"Me too," you whisper, before you fall asleep in his arms.

Sorry this one was weak, I was trying to finish it before Thanksgiving.