Tumgik
thebrotherswholoved · 3 years
Text
Trying to get back into writing. Please send your favorite/guiltiest pleasures, fetishes, and kinks so I can get my stupid monkey brain working again.
8 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 3 years
Text
jack: dean isn’t answering his phone
sam: I’ll call
jack: cas and I both tried ten times, I doubt you’ll reach-
dean: [on speaker] hey sammy what’s up
298 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 4 years
Text
dean: happy anniversary, baby! I have dinner reservations at seven
sam: our anniversary is in march
dean: ...happy birthday?
sam: it’s literally december
dean: stop being difficult and let me spoil you for fucks sake
187 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 4 years
Text
dean: I miss the motel bed
sam: why?
dean: memory foam remembers everything
dean: everything
sam: I feel sorry for the memory foam then
99 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 4 years
Text
dean: sammy? I fucked up
sam: you have to be more specific
dean: it’s gonna make you mad
sam: that doesn’t narrow it down at all
239 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 4 years
Note
Just found your blog and its literally the best thing I've ever seen. Gives me so much life! 💖💖
I was meaning to PM you because every notification I got from your activity on my blog gave me a molecule of serotonin—it appears the drought is over🥺💕 you are amazing, and thank you so much for giving my blog a chance!💜
AKF,
hayden
7 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 4 years
Text
Tumblr media
“A-Ah! Fuck!”
Another slap, harder this time, and Sam can feel the hard plastic of Dean’s favorite black paddle come down against the baby-smooth, freshly-shaven skin of his ass. The boy tries to guilt Dean by letting out a whimper, the little shit, but the sound is twisted a guttural moan when the same paddle that had just been mercilessly spanking him lands against the meat of his teenage ass, Dean’s long fingers gripping the handle.
“Don’t try that shit with me, Sam,” Dean growls, spreading his lover’s slender thighs that the brunet had been clenching together to hide his arousal. He leans down so his plump lips are pressed to Sam’s earlobe, exhales, and smirks at the goosebumps that cover Sam’s naked body. “Tell me what I told you.”
Sam bites his lip and hangs his head in defeat, though he’s not disappointed in being overpowered. Not at all. The blush on his cheeks is fierce and rosy red when his lips part so he can rasp out the words. “Bad boys get punished...”
Dean chuckles, his voice dark and husky, before slapping Sam’s ass hard enough that he’s positive the boy will have a hard time sitting right tomorrow.
“That’s right,” he squeezes the red rectangular mark on Sam’s skin that the paddle left. “Bad boys get punished.”
66 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 4 years
Text
sam: you know I love you, right?
dean: yes?
sam: more than anything else in the world?
dean: yeah...?
sam: that being said
dean: I-
sam: if you don’t start putting your clothes in the hamper I’m gonna throw your ass to the wolves
212 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 4 years
Text
dean: how many times do I have to tell you? I’m a MAN. I do MANLY THINGS.
sam: so you’re saying I can be little spoon now?
dean: of course not, that’s a stupid question.
dean: move over, bitch.
59 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 4 years
Text
okay but you can’t tell me that dean doesn’t call sam “shaggy” when he is due for a haircut
54 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 5 years
Text
belphegor: so how long have you been together?
dean: ...who?
belphegor: you and mr big and tall
belphegor: don’t try to be coy, everyone can tell that you climb him like a tree
dean:
dean: I’d say since the first apocalypse, but you’ll have to ask him
110 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 5 years
Text
dean: knock knock
sam: ...who’s there?
dean: anita
sam: anita who?
dean: anita dick in me.
sam:
sam: I fucking hate you
57 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 5 years
Text
sam: stop doing that or I’m gonna get mad
dean: you won’t do anything and you know it
dean: I’m baby
64 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 5 years
Text
cas:
cas: why are you in my room?
sam: dean is going through a country music phase
51 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 5 years
Text
dean: okay, rock, paper, scissors?
sam: no, I did it last time
dean: it’s your day of the week
sam: that’s what you get for being bossy now bend over
37 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 5 years
Text
dean: are you ready to do this?
sam: don’t you dare back out now, we’ve been planning this for months
dean: no
dean: I was just talking about our outfits. I think we can do better.
sam:
sam: dean, we’re eloping. it’s a courthouse. not the vatican.
65 notes · View notes
thebrotherswholoved · 5 years
Text
some days
Some days, Sam and Dean aren’t that happy-go-lucky couple on the front of stereotypical, emotionally bedazzled Hallmark cards.
Some days, Dean leaves for work with tears in his eyes and anger in the folds of his forehead, closing the door to their apartment with a little more force than usual.
Some days, Sam flinches at the slam sound the door makes as his boyfriend leaves for work, tears finally falling after hours, sometimes days, of holding them back.
Some days, Dean zones out at the garage and gets fingers snapped in his face by his colleagues because he’s off in la-la-land when he’s actually just thinking about how stupid he acted that morning or the night before he exiled himself to the couch (because Sam never kicks him out—he’s more into the passive-aggressiveness of sleeping facing away from his partner and shrugging his hand off his shoulder, sometimes not even saying good night).
Some days, Sam goes to his classes and can barely focus on what his professors are saying because he’s contemplating every syllable of every ugly word he spat at Dean.
But most of those days don’t end the same way they begin. More often than not, Sam will be perched on the sofa watching some rerun of their show of the month while overthinking what he’ll say when Dean gets home—even though his first word is always a simple “hey”—and Dean will barrel through the doors with a hopeful smile on his face.
He’ll set the grocery store bag he toted in on the kitchen counter and fill a vase with water from the sink to put the flowers he bought as an apology in before setting the bouquet beside Sam and cupping his face, kissing him with the hunger and desperation of a starved man.
And Sam will kiss back with that same emaciated want, craving the smell of petroleum that always manages to taint his boyfriend’s work clothes. He’ll straddle Dean’s hips and hug him tight because even a single day of deprivation is enough to crack them both. Dean will pull out his signature line and push some hair behind Sam’s ear with the same love he always does, angry or not.
“How was your day?” He’ll whisper, taking Sam’s hand.
On most days, Sam will look Dean in the eyes and smile ever so slightly and say, “‘t’s better now that you’re here.”
If it was a particularly nasty fight that got them into this funk, they’ll talk about it. But they always ask themselves one question: is whatever we’re fighting about more important than sharing a moment together?
And on most days, the answer is no. Because nothing is more important to Sam and Dean Winchester than one another.
71 notes · View notes