Hello again, sweet kink buddy - and Karl!

Thanks for the 100 Smut Dialogue Prompts ask!

You picked: 33) “Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic.”

Yup... So.... I was/am VERY tired, but I felt like writing something anyway. Also, I made a gif set to go with this. I don’t know if it’s just a bunch of nonsense though. LOL, please forgive me and my mushy brain!   

WARNINGS: noncon wincestiel groping/handjob/fingerfucking, hurt!Sam, bottom!Sam

❤️ A Ride to Remember ❤️

The lights are incredibly bright, his head buzzing and thumping away in sharp bursts of pain. What happened? He’s not sure if he remembers. A groan leaves him as he cracks his eyes open - only to see a blurry face that he almost can’t make out. But as the blurry blob of flesh tones moves closer, he’s pretty sure he can identify the person looking down at him.  

As Sam croaks out the angel’s name he discovers that his arms seem strangely stiff and he tries to move - only to discover that his wrists are bound to the back of chair he’s sitting on, tied together with rough hemp rope. Instinctively he tests his bonds, confusion washing through him.

“What... What’s this?” he rasps, but gets no answer. Only now does he realize that his brother is here too, standing behind Castiel with a sort of blank expression on his face. 

“Dean?” Sam says, trying to gauge the situation. Why the hell are they just standing there? But there’s no reaction. Neither of the men in front of him take any notice of him at all apparently. Instead, they seem to be silently communicating, shooting each other some short looks that Sam can’t interpret. The tension in the motel room can be cut with a knife. And just as Sam is about to speak again, Cas suddenly reaches down and starts to open the leather belt hiding under his beige trenchcoat.   

Confused Sam watches as the belt is quickly slipped out of its loops and Castiel approaches him with a stern look on his face. What is happening? Sam isn’t sure, but a spike of fear is shooting through him, fogging up his mind enough to make make him wonder if he’s just imagining the hungry look in the angel’s eyes. And in his brother’s. 

“Wh-What -” he begins, but quickly the folded belt is stuffed in between his lips.

“Bite down on this,” Castiel says, and suddenly a hand has opened Sam’s belt and is working on the buttons of his jeans. Stunned and completely perplexed Sam can’t tell if he’s supposed to fight back or if he should let them do whatever they’re planning on doing. Surely they must have a good reason to do this... Whatever ‘this’ is. Right? Nervous he shoots his brother a glance, trying to read the expression on his face. He looks... Riled up. Why or how Sam doesn’t know and he isn’t sure if he wants to know when it really comes down to it. Because something is wrong. Something is really, really wrong. 

“Just relax,” Castiel says, and his voice sounds totally normal. Just like the Cas he knows. Yet still, the look on his face makes Sam’s heart beat skyrocket, and he wants to protest, wants to ask what the hell is going on. But of course that isn’t exactly possible with a belt stuffed into his mouth. He could spit it out, of course, but they must have had a reason to put it there in the first place. Baffled he just sends Cas an inquiring look, trying to decipher the look on the angel’s face. Why is he staring at him like that?  

Well, hiya, nonnie!

Thanks for the 100 Smut Dialogue Prompts ask!

You picked: 16) “Shut up and take your pants off.”

Umm... Again I failed to stay within 100 words.. And I realized that I had to wrap it up before I went totally overboard in length, so I’m afraid there isn’t much smut to be found here. I do apologize... But I hope you’ll like it anyway?  

WARNING: Jealousy, non-con groping if you squint (or maybe not?), implied wincest

❤️ Done ❤️

The heavy metal door slammed shut behind them, leaving them in the darkness of the damp alleyway. As soon as the cool air snuck up their nostrils it felt like the amount of alcohol in their blood somehow doubled, making both brothers stumble on their feet a little as they headed towards the main road.

“Dude, what the hell was that about?” Sam said, placing a hand on the grimy brick wall in order not to lose his balance. When had he last been this drunk? He honestly didn’t remember.  

“She was handsy!” Dean slurred, wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulder. Giggling, the younger Winchester shortly wondered if his brother was trying to keep them both standing upright or maybe just himself.

“You’re drunk,” he stated with a grin, trying to steer them both around a dumpster parked pretty much in the middle of the alleyway and blocking their way.

“You’re drunk!” Dean echoed, bumping a hip into the dumpster when he tried to cling even closer to his brother and almost falling down in the process.

“That’s real mature,” Sam said, guiding Dean towards the street somewhere in the far end of the narrow alley. Everything was pretty blurry though, so he relied on his ears and let the distant buzzing of traffic lead his way.  

“Yeah, well… She was all over you, man,” Dean grumbled, gripping the back of Sam’s shirt a little tighter as he clung to him.

“So?” Sam asked, finally clearing the dumpster and now trying to avoid dragging his brother through what looked like a pretty deep puddle of brownish water. Or maybe it was piss? Everyone knew that guys always took a leak out here in the back.  

“So?!” Dean huffed, suddenly separating himself from Sam with what was probably supposed to be an angry shove. Unprepared the younger Winchester stumbled and barely managed to catch himself by placing a hand on the dumpster’s lid.

“I don’t want you hookin’ up with some random bar slut!” Dean slurred, eyeing Sam up and down with an expression on his face that was practically unreadable. It looked like anger, but there was more to it.

“What?” Sam said, dumbfounded.

“You heard me!” Dean spat, taking a wobbly step closer to his brother.

“Dean, you don’t get to decide who I wanna—“

“Like hell I do!” Dean said, and Sam recognized something in his voice that he had heard way too many times already. Hurt. Genuine hurt. But there was something else as well, something that Sam couldn’t quite put his finger on. Puzzled he just frowned, not knowing how to decipher the situation – but all of a sudden his brother was invading his personal space, pushing him up against the dumpster.

“The fuck, Dean?!” he burst out, wincing as his backside collided with the metal, sending a loud, metallic bang echoing down the alleyway.

“I saw the way she looked at you!” Dean snarled, fists gripping his brother’s collar tightly as he pressed him harder against the steel behind him. As his breath fanned across Sam’s face it carried with it a scent of stale second-hand smoke from the bar and far too many drams of whiskey. It was almost enough to make his eyes water.

“What’s it to you?!” Sam hissed, clumsily grabbing Dean’s wrists to try and pry his hands off. But they didn’t budge. Instead, his brother let out a weird mix between a growl and a keening sort of noise.    

“Shut up and take your pants off.”

The sentence bumped around inside Sam’s head for a few seconds as he replayed it, not understanding one word of it.

“What??” he just said, certain that he must have heard him wrong. But Dean’s eyes seemed to narrow even more and in the same moment one of his hands slid down to cup him through his jeans. Instantly Sam’s breath hitched in his throat and he froze to the spot, suddenly feeling one-hundred percent sober.

“I’m done waiting, Sammy…” Dean said under his breath, rubbing his fingers back and forth over the bulge hiding underneath the denim.

“And you’re done teasing me.”