#Soulless Sam Winchester

[amor-ad-nauseam]

Eyes on you. (18+)

Pairings: Soulless!SamWinchester X Reader

Rating: 18+

Summary: Sam has been… off lately. But that’s to be expected from a man who just came back from hell, right?

Word count: 5.9k

Tags: Soulless Sam Winchester x reader, hunting with Sam and Dean, Soulless Sam, Sam Winchester smut, dubcon(?) , PiV, no protection (wrap it up kids), creampie, breath play, choking, pinning, fingering, degradation, rough, dom sam, Dean mentioned but not involved, dacryphilia, reader has female anatomy, no use of y/n

Notes: wooo! sorry for the long hiatus, school has been fucking me missionary. anyway, starting off Kinktober strong with dubcon

Requests are open.

There was something terribly wrong with Sam.

You knew it from the moment he got back. Hell, everyone knew it.

Though of course when these concerns were raised to Dean, he, in his self-imposed naïveté, ignored it.

But you knew he felt it too.

During the few times you’ve tagged along on the brothers hunts these last few months, you’ve picked up on a few things. The way Dean would hold eye contact with Sam for only thirty seconds at a time, never a moment longer. Or how he would shift away from his own brother if he got too close. It was subtle. But you knew.

You couldn’t blame Dean for wanting to pretend everything was all right. Sam was his brother after all. And after everything they'd been through, if you were in his position, you'd do the same. You've only known the boys for some odd years now, and still you find yourself from time to time, pretending that the sweet, bookish, too-tall-for-his-own-good Sam you met is the same thing that came out of hell.

That is how you would survive this hunt.

You’ve always wondered how humans could feel someone's eyes on them. Since becoming a hunter that sense has sharpened.

You tear your gaze away from the view out of the backseat of the Impala and lock eyes with Sam in the rearview mirror. His once soft gaze was now stoic and calculating.

He looks away.

You linger.

You couldn't help but have the feeling that, in fact, there was nothing wrong with Sam at all.

This simply wasn't Sam. This was just some creature doing a poor emulation of him.

Without realizing, your hand had slid down your leg to the lifted fabric in the side of your boot. Your fingertips grazed the hilt of your dagger.

Correction, this is how you’d survive this hunt.

—-

When you finally arrived at the dilapidated manor, Dean was first to survey the scene.

“Alright.” He said in his usual gruff voice, clasping his hands together. “We got alotta ground to cover so, ladies first, take your pick.” Dean said, gesturing to you.

You were hoping Sam would pick first so that at the very least, you could choose the place furthest from the shiver down your spine.

“I’ll take upstairs,” you said. That feeling again, eyes on you.

Dean nods. You spin on your heels and race up the winding staircase without waiting to hear what each chose.

—-

Mildew and rotting wood lace the air. It’s a shame really, you thought. You face the expansive landing before you, pausing as your calf muscles burn from climbing the stairs two at a time.

High ceilings, eleven feet at least. Tall windows with dusty wine curtains spilling onto the floor shielding the amber of the setting sun. Most of the furniture was missing –evidence of squatters and raids– what remained was broken and covered in suspicious stains, much like what was left of the deep brown hardwood flooring. The most noticeable part of the room was the wallpaper, a rich red with delicate Chrysanthemums scattered across it, almost looking hand-painted on.

The wooden boards groan beneath your feet, causing you to question if they threatened to give out. You had a job to do, so you trudge down the dark hall.

Around 10 minutes pass and you knew no more information than when you first walked in. Not too long after you first got upstairs, you heard the ghostly moan of the front door shutting – one of the boys had opted to search the grounds. Meanwhile you tore through almost a dozen rooms only to find phallic graffiti and more rotting wood.

It was dark through the house now, the setting sun long gone, leaving you in the cold, dim space. The only light provided was the one functional bulb of the broken chandelier above- set to perpetually swing until its last chain broke.

The actual goal of this job was rather vague. All you knew was a bunch of kids had narrowly escaped death after a night of pure dumbassery in this house. So now here you were, swiping your EMF reader abstractly through the air and as Dean so eloquently put it, “keepin’ your eyes peeled for anything ghost-y or weird.”

Yeah, real helpful.

So you continue on down the hall with only a few rooms left to search. Then, something sounds from ahead.

Creeeeeak

You stalk toward the sound.

Nothing.

Creeeeeak.

The sound seems to come from behind this time. That feeling again, eyes on you.

You whip your head around. “Who's there!” You shout, your confident voice a stark contrast to the pit hanging in your stomach.

This time you manage to catch a glimpse of something slipping around the corner. You steel yourself, pocket the EMF reader, pull your dagger from your boot and start toward the creature.

You walk out into the landing, your steps cautious and dagger ready. Your eyes roll through the room. It was as if the creature had disappeared.

Creeeeak.

Or maybe not.

“That's cute.” It chuckles.

The voice was low and terrible, sending shivers down your spine

Yet still, it was almost familiar.

It elicited this hair raising feeling you can only imagine is similar to what homosapien felt looking at neanderthal.

“Come on out!” you shout, voice beginning to waver.

“That little kitchen knife you have, it's cute.”

Your stomach drops. Gears begin to turn in your head.

“But y’know, It doesn't matter how good you are with it.”

Sam, the real Sam, had been trying for years to get you to use a gun. But you had your knives and were good with them no doubt, so what was the point? He would always return your refusals with that crooked smile and pleas of how it “would make him feel so much better.”

Creeeeak.

The hall, it had to be coming from there. You force yourself to move.

“If your opponent is faster.”

Creeeeak.

No it was from behind, you were sure of it.

You spin on your heels and race toward the landing once more.

“Sam, come out. This isn't fucking funny!”

Just as you turn the corner, one strong hand seizes both of your wrists in a single swift motion. In an instant you're slammed up against something hard. The knife drops from your hands. Sam kicks it away. You open your eyes.

Chrysanthemums.

Fuck.

Sam leans down, his hot breath brushing against your neck. “Should’ve let me teach you how to shoot.”

There's a pause, the moment breathing and the air pulsing.

“Sam...” You exhale finally. Your voice comes out smaller than you would’ve liked.

“You’re too easily overpowered.” he raises his head for his lips to meet your ear. “Didn’t take much for me to get you like this; to hunt you down.” Sam’s grip tightens on your wrists.

His voice was low and gravely. You fought back against your aching lungs' desire to quicken their pace.

“That's what you’re calling this?” You remark. “Hunting me down?”

You had to play this smart.

There was a small knife, pocket sized, really, concealed just past the waistband of your jeans. With your hands to your back, if you could maneuver your fingers just right-

“Well I did, didn't I?” He squeezes your wrists once more, sending pain shooting down your arm and causing your fingers to splay out.

“Okay!” You gasp. “You've proved your point!” You say through gritted teeth.

Your index and middle finger slip past the waistband.

His grip loosens and he pulls away. You exhale. The tip of the handle brushes against your fingertip. So close.

Then, Sam jerks your wrists downward, your chance of escape literally slips between your fingers.

“I don't think I have.”

He looks down on you, this you can see from the corner of your eye. The rest, you feel.

His gaze is mechanical, inspecting, taking in and processing data. Some synapse fire causes his lips to tug upward in a smirk.

“Fuck.”

His long fingers tuck into the waist of your jeans.

“What are you-” You jut your hips in a desperate attempt to move free. Sam silently presses his knee against the back of your own, stopping all movement. There was no anger in his motions, annoyance at best. You let out a ragged breath.

He pulls the blade out, slowly and deliberately.

“Sam.”

He ignores your plea. Sam drags the knife from you, taking great care to ensure that the blade runs along your spine and that the tip drags up the hem of your shirt.

A shiver of a different kind rolls through your every vertebrae.

He brings the dagger to your chin, forcing you to look up. Sam all but closes the gap between the two of you, the point of his nose ghosting against your cheek. The warmth of his body swarms around you; the rotting wood smell drowned out by his deep woodsy scent. For a small singular blip of a moment you allow yourself to believe that this thing that looked and smelled like Sam, was truly Sam.

“Scream.”

But this isn't Sam, you knew that.

His voice quickly serves to pull you from your sanctity.

“What?” You breathe, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“You could’ve, by now. Dean would hear too, and you know that- you’re not stupid.”

“I-” You stammer. He was right. The thought had played in the back of your mind but some louder part of you, the part that hadn't been next to a warm body in months objected.

“So why don’t you?” Sam continues, his voice like velvet sending vibrations rippling across your skin.

“Go on, scream.”

Nothing.

He smirks.

Sam drops the knife. There goes your lifeline.

His lips meet your jaw in a hungry kiss. You let out an involuntary groan. His teeth clash against the bone, threatening to leave a mark.

Maybe this wasn't Sam, but it still looked like him, still felt like him, and still touched like him. Maybe pretending couldn't hurt.

He continues down your neck, every hot, open-mouthed kiss causing another groan to escape you. Deep down you felt some gross shame; the fraction of yourself that hasn't succumbed to the wants of your flesh racking against your ribcage. All at once his teeth clamp down on your shoulder. “Agh.”

Yeah pretending couldn’t hurt. But good god did you hope it would.

You hiss, sucking in a breath and trying to pull away.

“Tell me to stop.” Sam breaths in between rough kisses.

He flattens himself against you, the strain in his jeans pressing into your ass. Against better judgment, you let out a sweet moan and you feel the bulge in his pants grow. This was wrong, so so wrong. There was something off about Sam, you shouldn’t be sleeping with him.

“Sto-hmfg” You’re cut off by the sounds of your own pleasure as Sam sucks on the part of your neck he had just bit. The juxtaposition of pleasure and pain confuses your mind and body. Heat spreads between your thighs and your mind swirls.

Knowing and feeling something are two entirely different things. Sure, in your head you could protest the current situation. You could attempt to be as logical as you wanted, but that didn’t change the aching desire within you. 

“One word and I will.” Sam groans as he presses his hips into you. 

The feeling of his hardness so close to your needy core ceases any rational thought you could’ve given.

He releases your bruised wrists. Finally, a moment to think properly. Without warning, his arm wraps around your waist, pinning your arms to your sides and pulling you away from the wall and into him. You were sure at this point that your cheek had a chrysanthemum imprint on it. 

Sam looks down at you before him. So helpless and ready to be fucked dumb. He watches as you wince, your body in pain from the new position. His cock twitches. 

You feel his muscles, strong and heaving against your back, his arm flexing as he holds you close. His free hand slides over to the collar of your shirt. His long fingers delicately trace your collar bones, staring down at them as if he wants to sink his teeth in. The air leaves your lungs. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his hands sliding down your torso, then sliding up your shirt. Oh how badly you wanted to cry out. To beg him to touch your needy pussy. But something told you he wouldn't oblige. 

Sam watches your face intently. As hard as you tried not to give anything away, he could tell every single thing you were feeling. The light twitch of your eyebrow as he slid his hands up your shirt instead of down your pants sent satisfaction surging through him. He didn't have to feel you to know you were soaking wet. He slides his index and middle fingers under your bra and begins to massage the soft skin of your breasts. His thumbs hold your sides and his ring and pinky fingers dig into the gaps between your ribs. You were so much more fragile than he ever imagined. God, he can't wait to break you. 

Small, soft moans pour out of you like music to his ears. His fingers pinch your nipples harshly, causing you to make a squeak-like whimper. You try to pull away from him in sudden shock at the pain but there was nowhere to run. 

“Sam, please.” You whine.

“Please what?” He replies while rolling your now firm nipples between his fingers.

Your voice comes out small, pathetic, he thought. “Agh- it hurts.”

He pinches harder. “You can take it.”

Before you can protest, he returns to that sweet spot on your neck that he had bit earlier. He flicks his tongue across the bruise before kissing it again and again. Your head lolls and your mind goes blank. 

Sam continues to pinch and twist your nipples, watching your face and relishing in the effect he has on you. Almost makes him wonder if you’ve ever been fucked right in your life. 

All those nights he knew you were in the next motel room getting fucked by some idiot you met at a bar. Every morning he had to see you with your hair messy and makeup smudged. All those times he wished it was him who was making you moan, just for you to be squirming like a virgin right now? 

Sam angles himself so that his bulge is pressed directly against your cunt. The friction makes you moan and he can't stop the spread of a smirk across his lips. 

“Look what you did to me.” He breathes against your ear. “You’re such a slut.” 

“N-no I'm not.” You gasp between moans. That wasn’t true. Sure you had a few one night stands but no more than either of the boys.

“Really?” Sam grins and for some reason that was so much worse than if he had outright called you a whore. 

Shame overwhelms you.

He suddenly rips his hands from your tits. The sudden motion and lack of warmth makes you gasp.

Exactly what he wanted. Sam finds the button on your jeans and pops it free in an instant. 

The room felt like a maelstrom of hot desire. You never imagined that you’d tolerate being called a slut, let alone dignify the accusation by trying to defend yourself against it, and you certainly, most definitely, never thought it'd be Sam making the accusation.

Sam roughly shoves his hand into your jeans and you feel your heart speed up, partiality in fear, partially in excitement. Sadly, he doesn't go another layer further. His fingers dance across the cotton of your panties, teasing. 

“Not a slut?” He whispers in your ear. His fingers find your entrance and press against it. The soft fabric was warm and sticky, practically soaked with your arousal. You whine as his fingers threaten to enter, you were so embarrassed yet your body begged for more.

“Then why are you so wet, hm?” Sam didn’t have to say it, you both knew it as his fingers sent the message before his mouth did but still, but he received such a deep satisfaction seeing your cheeks flush at his words. 

 You weren't going to dignify him with a response. 

Sam’s middle and ring finger press against your entrance once more. You attempt to keep your face straight as you internally curse the fabric separating him and your pleasure.

“Such a fucking slut.”

At this, Your pussy clenches around the tips of his fingers.

You feel Sam's chest vibrate against your back as a wry laugh echoes through him.   “You like that?” 

You set your gaze on your shoes, biting back words. 

 He grabs your jaw and forces you to look up at him. “Answer me, slut.” 

Your pussy pathetically clenches around him again. You release your bottom lip, red with blood circulation. “Y–Yes.” You didn’t have to respond, but for some reason you wanted to see his face as you said it. To know if he was as turned on as you were. 

Sam rewards you with a mocking smile. “Wow… who knew you were such a dirty whore.”

Before you could even think of a response, Sam finds your clit. The second he touches you, you feel your mind begin to go blank, your mouth falls open with only a whimper to show for the last of your coherent thoughts. Even through your panties, his touch was electric

His lips find that beautifully bruised sweet spot on your shoulder and pepper it with kisses. His hand drops from your neck, leaving your head to loll as you shudder with breathy moans. 

The fabric of your panties was now throughly saturated as it slid across your folds. You grind against Sam’s hand, desperate for more friction. You tried so hard not to give in but it was clear at this point you had lost. Sam takes in the sight: your lips fallen apart in gasping moans, your eyes fluttering shut and brows knitted. The curvature of your neck, your head thrown back like a dead girl and your hips pathetically rocking back and forth, too proud to beg.

“You want more, baby?” Sam asks, amusement evident in his tone.

You bite down on your bottom lip, clinging to the last bits of your dignity.

All those nights he had to hear your headboard banging against the wall you weren't so reserved. 

“Fine then.” Stoically, Sam simply begins to pull away. 

Without thinking, your hand shoots out and grabs his wrist. You look up at him, eyes glazed over with lust and boring into his skull. “Please.” 

Now that is what he liked to see. He wets his lips as he looks over your face. 

“Good girl.” 

You weren't quite sure what took over you and you don't know if you hated yourself for it or were thankful. Regardless, you begin to lead his hand back toward your jeans. Suddenly, he stops.

Celertitly, Sam turns you around and pins you back to the wall. If he was going to have you, it would be wholly and completely. He was going to ravage you and tear you apart at the seams.

He undresses you like an autopsy, delicately peeling away layer after layer. His thumbs hook into your pants and he squats as he slides them down. His fingers trace the rim of your panties before he slowly pulls them down your legs. Sam looks up at you: thighs pressed together and hands balled at your sides. While your body language conveyed a certain conservative nature, your teeth sunken into your red bottom lip and eyes staring straight down at him anticipating his next move told a different story. It was almost funny the way you tried to remain taciturn, as if you hadn’t just proved a thousand times over what a slut you are. 

Sam’s large hands practically engulf your hips as he takes hold. For a moment he considers licking your cunt, but then again, it would be so much more fun to see you squirm beneath him. He rises to his feet, fingers digging into your flesh as he uses you as leverage, lips ghosting against your torso. His narrowed eyes never leave you for a moment. 

You search Sam’s eyes for anything familiar, anything that would make you feel less awful about this. While his eyes still contained that stunning hazel hue, there was no emotion behind them. Lust, sure. Before you could thoroughly discern your emotions, you feel Sam pulling up your shirt. 

“Wait.” You say, pushing the fabric down. “Dean… He’s just outside. What if he comes up?” 

“So?” Sam asks flatly. He tries to pull off your shirt again, but you stop him.

“So? I won’t have time to get dressed. I’d rather your brother not se-“ 

His lips press against yours as though he were starved. Fastest way to get you to shut the fuck up. 

Your mind and every thought in it slips out like a gust of wind. He pulls away only for a quick moment.  “Guess we’ll have to be quick then, hm?” He breathes. You nod dumbly, lips puffy and saliva coating them.  With that he forcibly rips off your top and tosses it to the ground. Finally, he thought. 

Your bra ends up on the ground as well. 

Sam roughly grabs you by the hair and pulls you back into the kiss. Of all the times you’ve imagined being with Sam, not once did you think it would be like this, unfeeling, and rough. But if you could pretend, that would make it all okay. 

And so you did. You let your mind go blank and only focus on the pleasure ‘real’ Sam was giving you. 

 Your hands slide up his shoulders and rest on the nape of his neck. You moan as you sink into the kiss and as Sam's long fingers come to circle your clit and you don’t bother to maintain a shred of composure.

He breaks the kiss, panting, forehead pressed against yours and looks down at your body, and all the bruises on you. All of the ways he’s marked and claimed you caused a low growl to ripple through his chest. Sam pulls his fingers from your pussy and you have half a mind to grab his wrist again. He watches as your slick stretches and runs down his fingers. You pretend that his thoughts and words were something more of love than lust. 

“Fuck.” “Beautiful.” He says in a breathy murmur. 

As Sam's fingers prod at the entrance of your puffy cunt, you cringe at the lewd squelching noise that ensues. He looks up from his work to watch your face. It was so satisfying to see you like this, so needy and pathetic. At once, his fingers sink deep inside you. You moan, his fingers leaving you so full. You hardly have a moment to gather your thoughts before he's thrusting in and out of you, a satisfied look on his face at watching you unravel.  

Every single moan you make is loud, drawn, out and practically pornographic and in all honesty, you couldn't care less. He pulls you in via a rough grip on your hair and smashes his lips against yours. You let yourself believe the kiss was more fervent than greedy. His tongue, much like his fingers, treats the inside of your body more like an exploration or experiment — trying to figure out what makes you tick. Sam runs his tongue along the inside of your teeth and at the same time you feel him grinning against your lips. Suddenly you can’t get enough air in your lungs, his fingers curl and press right against your g-spot. You tear yourself away from him in a gasping moan, your palms flat against his muscular chest as your world spins. 

“mfgh- fuck, S-Sammy,” You cry.  

And just as soon as he started, he stopped. 

“What did you call me?” Sam pulls away, his eyes narrowed and dark. It doesn’t matter if his touch was ever loving, the lack of it now leaves you feeling cold and embarrassed.

“Samm-“

Sam’s lips curl into a frown. You stop speaking. 

 It seems everyone— including you, wanted little ‘Sammy’ back. It didn’t matter that he was right there, they missed that weak part of him still burning in hell. 

Slowly but promptly, his hand creeps up your collarbone and wraps around your throat. He sets his jaw and it hits you— what you felt around Sam before this, it wasn’t fear, something more than discomfort but far less than being afraid; this however, this was fear. 

As it seems, you’ve gotten yourself too lost in pretending. 

“Sammy,” he says sharply in a voice you were unaware Sam was even capable of producing. “Is Dean’s dumbass little brother…  Sammy jerked off to you every night but never had the balls to ask you out. Sammy is a little bitch. So, if you want me to fuck you dumb, it’s Sam.”

Speechless, you breathe a reply before your brain has a chance to catch up. “I- yes sir.” 

“Yeah, that too.” Sam replies in a dark voice. 

He squeezes your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know that he could if he wanted to. 

And for some goddamned reason, it turns you on. 

Pretending never does quite work, does it?

It was wrong, you thought as Sam’s hand dropped from your throat. Even after what just happened, you felt yourself growing hotter at the image that wormed its way into your head. Sam’s nimble fingers wrapped around his cock, chest heaving as he stoked himself. Instead of returning to you, he began to undo his belt. Sam’s pumps growing jagged and needy as he brought himself closer. He starts to pull down his pants and boxers, a bit of hasty anger in his movements. Sam’s eyes wrenching shut, or perhaps rolling back. Breathless repetitions of your name floating in the air. Thick globs of revering white emulsion spilling over his fist out of the very same cock before you. You gasp as he enters.

Sam’s cock feels as though it’s ripping you apart. His length and girth are far more than you’ve ever taken and by the looks of it, he's never had something quite like you either. 

“Fffuck you’re tight.” He groans, fingers digging into your ass as he thrusts in and out. He wishes he didn’t have to worry about these damn clothes, he could've made you cum on his tongue by now if it weren't for the damn pants around your ankles. He also wishes he didn't have to worry about time constraints, he could've given you several short orgasms by now instead of aiming for a single earth-shattering one.. Honestly, he couldn’t give less of a shit if Dean saw the two of you, but you probably wouldn't sleep with him again if that happened and  he was planning to use your tight little pussy this entire weekend. Hell, he might ‘accidentaly’ fuck up the hunt so you would have to stay in town longer.

“So good for me baby.” Sam says in a groan. His eyes remain locked on your expression and your tits bouncing with every thrust. Your warm cunt fits around him so nicely. He didn't have to, and he knew you surely couldn't take it but he loved to see you gasp and squirm– so pretty beneath him, every time he bottomed out.

“Mnghh, wa-agh!” You whine, high pitched and pleading. You press your palms against his chest, hoping to send the message of telling him to slow down as your mouth has been rendered absolutely useless save for whimpers and moans. Maybe he didn’t understand, or maybe it was that he didn’t want to, in the end, Sam continued fucking you with reckless abandon.

Tears began to prickle in the corners of your eyes. “Sam- agh s’too.. mmuch.” You sobbed. 

“Shh, you’re taking me so well,” Sam coos. He cups your jaw in a surprisingly tenderder fashion and wipes your streaming tears with his thumb. You wince.

He has always wondered how you liked it. How you really liked it, every dirty fantasy you had in the dead of night and every deleted search.

“H-mgh, h-hurts.” You  squeak out as he rams into you once more.

 Now, it was glaringly obvious. With a hint of genuine curiosity in his eyes, he wraps a hand around your throat once more and then, he squeezes. 

Of course Sam has choked a girl in bed before, but choking you was especially euphoric. The slight hint of fear in your eyes was enough to make him cum right now. 

You felt suddenly very aware of your body. The pain on your shoulder and down your finger-dug in arms and hips. Your drooping eyelids, tears down your chin, the thoughtless moans spilling out of you as you unthinkingly tipped your head back, exposing your throat to give Sam a better grip. 

Every breath gave a slight resistance you couldn’t help but want. Fog filled your head until you were left with a one point perspective of Sam. It hurt so good. Your arms lazily drape over his shoulders and you find yourself begging for more of him; your hips rock in tandem with this thrusts and through moans, a single word falls from your lips. 

“Harder.” 

Sam quickly obliges, his pelvis meets yours with every thrust and his tip touches your cervix. You throw your head back in a shuddering moan and feel yourself losing oxygen. 

He couldn’t believe he didn’t realize sooner what a pain slut you were. Your pussy begins to tighten around his cock in uneven flutters. First your fingers, curling into Sam’s hair. Then your chest, shallow breaths growing shallower. Your legs follow soon after, the muscles tensing and feeling as though they could give away at any moment. Finally your abdomen, growing taut by the second. Your brows press together as your mouth falls open. 

“S-ssoo close.” You slur. 

“Hold it baby, just a little more.” Sam groans. His breath filled in the hot inch of space between your bodies. His thrusts became shorter but more rapid, his heart following suit. He clenches his teeth. Fuck, you looked pretty with his hand around your throat but damn if he didn’t need to cum inside your cunt. 

Tears begin streaming down your cheeks as you try to hold back the waves of pleasure ripping through you. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Sam stops choking you and turns all his attention on your pussy. Your moans come out in pathetic cries, your body feeling wet and mushy but tense and begging for release all at the same time. Your head was a mess too jumbled to decipher and all you wanted was to cum. 

“Ssam.. please.” You cry as he pounds into you like a rag doll.

“So needy.” He teases back in a ragged breath. “You can do it. Be a good slut and hold it.”

 Just as you go to beg he meets your yes in a stern glare. “Do not fucking cum until I say so.” 

You give a reluctant nod. 

And just then, you hear a door shut. 

Shit. 

With wide eyes, you snap out of your trance. 

Sam on the other hand, didn’t plan on stopping. 

His hand quickly flies up to your mouth and his body completely presses yours to the wall. 

“Not a sound.” He whispers against your ear.  

As hard as you try to fight it, you find yourself slipping back. This time, with each thrust you slide up the chrysanthemum wall and he could feel your heart beating against his chest 

Sam’s cock twitches inside of you. He moves his hand and replaces it with his lips, trapping you in a sloppy kiss while he lifts your legs, bringing your knees to almost wrap around his hips. He palms your ass while his forearms support your thighs and his elbows your knees. Damn these clothes. Though still, at this angle he could get so much deeper and bring himself so much closer. 

White hot pleasure surges through his every synapse. 

“Guys! Where are you?” Dean calls from downstairs and damn if the adrenaline rush from that didn’t turn you on. 

Sam feels you clench around his cock and he groans into your mouth. 

“Almost there.” Sam whispers. You were too out of it to reply. 

“Need- mgh.. to.” You whisper. A tingling sensation has taken over your whole body, starting at your core and spreading outward. You felt like a ticking time bomb and just when you felt you were about to explode.

“Cum.”

With that you let go. You feel Sam’s hand slide between your and his lips as your orgasm rolls through you. His head falls forward and rests against the wall as he shudders through an orgasm of his own. The tingling feeling turns your muscles to jello but Sam does his best to keep you in his grasp. 

“No hits outside.” Dean calls. 

The only sound that mattered to either of you though were each other's dark trembling exhales, yours leaving through your nostrils and onto his knuckles and Sam’s through his parted lips and onto your bare shoulder. 

Small twitches and spurts from Sam’s length persist inside of you as he reaches the last of his orgasm. Meanwhile your entrance flutters as you recover from your ecstasy. Your heart pounded in your ears and you were left in a high. 

“…The hell? If you two got taken by a ghost or some shit I swear.” Dean grumbles. And then his footsteps start toward the stairs. Fuck.

Sam though, he takes his sweet time letting you down. 

Creeaak, Groans one step. 

Sam begins to pull out, forcing you to watch his cock glistens with your wetness and his cum seeps out of you. 

Creeeak. 

You were unsteady on your feet but managed to pull your pants and panties up.

Creeeak.

Shit, where’s your bra?

“Guys!” Dean yells, his voice closer than ever. His footsteps pick up the pace.

He reaches the top of the stairs to find Sam inspecting his EMF reader and you, placing a dagger back in your boot, fully dressed. 

“Oh hey, Dean.” Sam says with a casualness that left you feeling that if his cum were not leaking out of you right now, you would question if anything had actually happened. 

“What the hell? Damn near gave me a heart attack.” 

“Sorry,” Sam shrugs. “Thought we found something.” 

“Uh huh.” Dean replies, unconvinced. He glances at you, then back to Sam, and then to you again. “So, you find anything?”

“No.” You say without meeting his eyes. You frown and pretend to check out some of the grafiti. 

“Right.” Dean says.

You give him a small nod and quickly slip behind him and down the stairs. 

Once he hears the front door shut, Dean turns to Sam with a quirked brow. 

Sam looks up from the EMF reader and at Dean cooley. “Maybe there’s an attic or a back room we haven’t found?”

“Seriously? Don’t you think it’s a little messed up?”

“No, tons of old houses have cellars and hidden rooms.”

“Oh cut the bullshit, Sam.” Dean raises your pocket knife Sam hadn’t realized he picked up. He’s known you long enough to know where you stash your amo. “She doesn’t know, does she?” He frowns. 

His poker face falters and returns to a room-temperature smugness. “Is that what this is about? Me not having a soul?” Sam steps forward. “Or are you just mad that I fucked her first?” 

Tag list: @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillies444lola @n0va25 @figurantedefilme @wowzabowza69

Dm to be added/removed

[inbredbrotherhood]

Sam oscillates so seamlessly between prey animal and predator. Sam is a lamb but he’s also the wolf, Sam is the fawn in the same way he’s the hunting dog and every iteration of Sam — every time he is prey or predator, he encapsulates that perfectly. The perfect victim or the perfect killer.

[holylulusworld]

Extreme tight places (4) - Kinktober 3

Summary: You’re stuck with a soulless Sam again.

Pairing: Soulless!Sam x fem!Reader

Warnings: soulless!Sam being his asshole self, anal sex, smut, unprotected sex, degrading, creampie, voyeurism, outdoor sex, sex in front of others, violence, possessive soulless Sam, forced cum eating (not the reader)

Rating: Explicit

Kink: Anal sex

Square filled for @samwinchesterbingo: Square 18: Plot what plot?

Square filled for @spnkinkbingo 2022 (expired): Square 1: Anal Sex

Catch up here: Cramped (1) & Tight places (2) Very tight places (3)

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

“Sam! Sam, stop! You’re going to kill him!” You desperately try to drag Sam off a fellow hunter. You don’t like the hunter, but the last thing you need is rumors spreading that Sam Winchester killed another hunter. “Sam, please.”

“He tried to touch what’s mine!” Sam is like an animal. Not only because of his soullessness but also because the hunter tried to hit on you during a get-together to celebrate the life of a deceased hunter. “No one touches what’s mine.”

You huff. It’s not like you’re together or shit. Sam is simply obsessed with fucking you. There’s no love or even feelings between the two of you.

“SAMMY!” Dean and Cas finally come to your aid. They grab Sam by his arms and drag him off the hunter. “What the fuck!”

“He tried to grope my girl’s ass.” Sam tries to apologize that he tried to beat the life out of the man. “No one touches what’s mine, Dean. Not even you.”

“Sam, get your shit together,” Dean snaps at his brother. Lately, he’s struggling to see Sam as his brother. Death brought Sam’s soul back, but they are still trying to figure out how to turn the new version back into his former self.

Sam squares his jaw. “Let go of me, or you’ll get a taste of my strength too.” Dean shakes his head. The thing possessing his brother is so unlike the Sam he raised. “Y/N, come.”

He holds out his hand for you. You could tell him to fuck off because he flirted with one of the huntresses, but it would only cause Sam to go rampant and find a reason to fight with someone else.

“Sam,” you huff when he drags you toward the back of the place, away from the crowd. “Where are we going?”

“I need to fuck you,” he states, ignoring that you wiggle in his tight grip. “You need to feel it in your bones that your holes are all mine.”

“Says the guy flirting with some bitch moments ago. You’re only angry because the guy was nice to me.” You bite back.

He stops in his tracks to look you up and down. His eyes darken, and you bite your tongue. One wrong word and he fucks you right there, in front of everyone.

“He touched you,” he snarls. “I told her to go down on her knees and suck me off if she wants my help on a hunt.” Sam shrugs. “She was an uptight bitch. Not wet and soft like you.”

“What the—?” You can’t believe Sam sometimes. He tells you he wanted some bitch to suck him off after he almost beat a man to death because the hunter dared to talk to you. “You’re unbelievable!”

“I know, kitten,” he purrs and presses you against the wall. He slips one hand between your bodies to hastily unbutton your pants. Your eyes round. Sam can’t be serious. “That’s why you’re always so needy.”

“I hate you so much,” you argue, but don’t fight his hand slipping inside your pants to pinch your clit. “Sam, not here. Let’s go somewhere else.” You know Sam is pumped up and needs to release some steam. “Please.”

“I love it when you beg me.” He presses his lips to yours, swallowing the tiny moans escaping your lips. Sam smirks when you buck your hips, silently begging him for more. He hums against your lips as he slips his index finger inside your cunt. “Already so wet for me.”

“S-am,” you whimper against his lips. “Pl-ease. Somewhere else.”

“I want them to know you’re mine,” he growls and removes his hand. You don’t argue. Fighting with Sam is a lost cause. Instead, you let him grab your hand and guide you out of the bar.

Sam leads you toward a car you don’t recognize. He twirls you around to bend you over the hood. Sam rips your still unbuttoned jeans down your legs, taking your panties with it.

“That’s how I like you.” He slaps your ass, roughly groping your globes. If you weren’t in a parking lot, he’d spank your ass raw tonight. “Always so ready to take my cock.”

Sam uses his large hand to spread your ass-cheeks. He smirks when you wiggle in his grip. You know he wants to prove your ass belongs to him. Literally. A warm liquid hits the crack of your ass, making you whimper. “Oh, kitten. This ass is mine.” He hums. “It opens up like a slutty hole to me.”

“Sam, not here,” you try one last time, but Sam throws the empty bottle of lube over his shoulder. He unzips his pants and slaps his cock against your ass.

“You’ll let me fuck this tight asshole and take it like a good slut. Maybe I’ll let you cum this time too.” Sam laughs when you hiss his name. He ignores you’re angry at him for flirting with the other woman. While you lie on the car, giving in to his demands once again, he runs his hard cock up and down the crack of your ass to get lube all over his massive erection. “You’re my whore.”

He presses the tip inside, making you hiss. It’s always a struggle to take Sam up your ass. At least he’s less impatient tonight and slowly inches his way inside. His hands grip your hips hard enough to hurt.

“Fuck, Sam…”

“Yeah, I’m going to fuck this hole open,” he growls like the possessive caveman he turns into when it comes to fucking you. “Watch me ruin her ass.”

You don’t have time to think about his words. Sam pushes you down onto the hood of the car and holds you there as he shoves the last inches inside. You’re panting because his massive cock feels good in your tightest hole.

“You’re an ass whore. I knew it.” Sam leans over your body to whisper in your ear. “Say it. Say, I’m Sam Winchester’s anal slut.”

“I’m—” you choke out a moan when Sam slowly starts pushing in and out of your ass. He barely moves his hips, only pressing his cock into you with short strokes, but you feel immense pleasure. You don’t know why, but no matter how Sam fucks you, it always feels good. “I’m Sam Winchester’s anal slut.” You breathe out, making Sam laugh.

“Yes, you are,” he pants in your neck while his hips mercilessly crash into your ass. “Always full of my cock, only mine.”

“Yes…”

“I bet you’ll cum like the whore you are with my big cock up your ass,” he taunts. “Right? You’ll squirt like a slut because you’re my anal whore.”

You should be ashamed. Sam is fucking your ass over the hood of someone else’s car. He calls you his whore, but you couldn’t care less. The bastard ruining your ass isn’t wrong. The pressure in your ass has you tethering on the edge of an orgasm.

He’s pounding you deep, hard, and fast. Sam groans in your ear, getting more excited. His desperate groans get you more excited. Your body is ready to give in to the pleasured pain. You whimper his name, telling him to cum inside of your ass.

And he just lets go, slamming one hand between your legs to swipe left, right, left, and right until you squirt all over his hand. “Perfect whore, isn't she?”

Sam pulls out, stepping away from the car to let whoever watched him fuck your ass watch his cum drip out of your gaping hole.

“Perfect hole.”

You try to catch your breath as you lie on the car. Total spend. Sam eagerly spreads your cheeks to look at his cum. He hums before thrusting one finger inside to scoop a large amount of his cum with his finger. “Come here and have a taste.”

“Dude, I’m good over here,” the man grunts. He’s holding his bruised ribs and glares at Sam. “I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing, but I’m out.”

“I said,” Sam growls in the man’s direction. “Come over here and have a taste. That’s what you wanted, right? To fuck my girl’s ass.”

“Sam?” You slowly get up from the car and pull your pants back up. You turn around to watch the man Sam punched earlier stand a few feet away. “What the fuck!”

“Buddy, if you ever get close to her ass again, you’re dead,” Sam smirks darkly. He wraps his hand around the man’s throat and forces his finger inside his mouth. “That’s the closest you’ll get to my girl’s ass. Now swallow like a good boy and get lost.”

“You found a way?” You whisper to not wake Sam. After the fucked-up stunt, he pulled his brother, knocked him out. “How can I help you?”

“You need to distract him. Stay inside the room until Death arrives. It’s only a few hours; Y/N. Sammy will be back soon,” Dean gives you an apologetic look. “I know you liked this one, but...”

“Not after tonight!” You hold up your hand. “He risked my safety, Dean. If that guy was a little more..." You sniffle. “If he knocked Sam out, it would’ve ended badly for me, Dean. If we can bring the normal Sam back, I’d do anything to help you.

Screams echo through Bobby's house. You press your hand to your ears and try to blend out that Sam is suffering inside Bobby’s panic room.

Death brought his soul back and finally found a way to get the old Sam back too.

If only it weren’t so painful...

“It’s going to be alright.” You look at Dean, nodding. You don’t know if he wants to convince you or himself. “It must…”

The screams abruptly end. Death slips out of the room. He ignores you and whispers something in Dean’s ear. “I know, we will be careful.”

You gave the brothers time and space to reunite, promising to stick around for the next case. The procedure was a success. Sam is back to his old self.

What Dean didn’t tell you before Death got to work was that Sam wouldn’t remember your time together. The truth is, Sam doesn’t remember anything after he jumped into the pit.

Maybe it’s for the best. What you let his soulless version do to you was something the old Sam would never understand.

“Y/N, hey.” You look up from your book when Sam calls your name. He leans in the doorframe, eyes glued to your exposed legs. “I heard you helped Dean while I was gone.”

“Uh-yeah. Kinda,” you lie. It’s all you can do. Death warned you and the others not to tell Sam what happened over the last months. If you do, the consequences will be dire.

“Hmm…” He pushes off the doorframe, stepping inside your motel room. Sam slams the door shut and hums as you flinch at the sudden motion. His eyes are softer, and his behavior changed, but the smirk creeping on his face is not different from his soulless version’s smirk. “I see, you liked riding my dick.”

“What? I—what?” You splutter. He can’t know. It’s impossible. Death said Sam won’t remember a thing.

“I can’t remember much, but the videos on my phone helped me. I must say, you have been a good little slut for me.” He laughs darkly as you stare at him like a deer in headlights. “How about we refresh my memory and you let me fuck that pretty cunt and ass again?”

Tags in reblog.

[mxltifxnd0m]

soulless sam would have loved being objectified

send tweet

[samsocialism]

[samanddean76]

A Fistful Of Sammy's

An ancient grimoire has been searching for the man that is destined to wield it for the good of all.  With the power that was imbued upon it, Lux gained sentience and hid herself away, appearing as nothing more than a smoothly polished rock.  Now she waits.  The problem?  The Stanford-Era Sam Winchester that the grimoire meets is not the only Sam searching for it.  And thanks to a little time travel the list of those seeking her is growing longer by the minute.  Once Soulless Sam and Demon Dean are added into the mix?  Things start to go sideways.  But then a couple of Hollywood actors trapped in Canada, who happen to look just like them and know everything about them, turn out to be crucial to Sam and Dean being able to save the day. 

Will an Apocalypse World Bobby (no, not that one) and a battle ravaged Castiel help or hinder?  Will the all-too helpful Gabriel guide Sam to the truth, or lead him astray?  And will Sam ever get the happy ending he so desperately deserves? 

Come along on a wild ride, with Metallica as the soundtrack, and an ending that hinges on one impossible choice.

Fandoms: Supernatural and Supernatural RPF

Rated: Explicit | Word Count: 44,276

This is what happens when you have four Sam's, four Dean's, two Castiel's, two Jared and Jensen's, one Gabriel, one John, and one Jack in the same story.

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Demon Dean/Soulless Sam, Sam Winchester/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, John Winchester/Sam Winchester

Major Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Additional Tags: AU, Time Travel, Will Reference Events From All Seasons Plus Prior To Series, Jared & Jensen from Season 6 - The French Mistake, Stanford Era Sam, Dean, & John, Soulless Sam, Demon Dean, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Dubious Consent, Non-Graphic Violence, Unorthodox Demon Healing, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sam & Dean Being The Best Of Brothers, Castiel Gets A Power Up, Sam Gets A Power Up, An OC For The Ages, Literally

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight on AO3

Hey! How about we turn it into The Samstraveganza Verse? Mmmm, okay, I'm sold.

Tell Me Something I Don't Know - Soulless Sam/Demon Dean one-shot on AO3

Art Post on Tumblr | Art Post on AO3

@xpurdyglambertx @wipbigbang

Excerpt from Chapter Six under the break....

Sam could see himself through Dean’s eyes.  From the moment he was the baby lying in the maternity ward.  Later when he played in his crib in the nursery of his only real home.  How scared Dean felt as he raced out the front door with his little Sammy held tight.  Through more dingy motel rooms and abandoned houses than either of them ever wanted to think about.  On the first day of middle school, when Sam had been so scared, Dean had looked down at him with pride, assuring his kid brother that he was going to be better than any of his classmates.  Helping Sam to get ready for his first dance, pinning on the boutonniere that he had stolen from the flower shop.  Wishing how it would have been him to escort his Sammy. 

“I would have danced with you, at least once.  Spun my big brother around the floor.”  The words echoed across his mind, and when Dean tried to deepen the kiss that they were sharing, Sam knew that he’d heard it, and shared the sentiment.  He thrust harder into the willing flesh before him, finding untold joy as each thrust was matched by Dean pushing back with his own hips.  Trying to help Sam sink in even deeper. 

[italwayshadtobeyou]

[silena-laney-laney]

Soulless!Sam to Dean: Here, hold my morals. I’ve got some sketchy shit to take care of.

Dean: Sammy, you have no morals.

Sam: Even better.

[randofanficrecs]

Today's random fic is from the Supernatural fandom, Stripped by mithrel.

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 389 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Sam Winchester Additional Tags: Podfic Welcome, Blanket Permission, Episode: s05e22 Swan Song, Soulless Sam Winchester Language: English Summary: Takes place between 5x22 and 6x01.

[phrysic]

soulless sam and castiel for you freaks (affectionate)

[iightbringer]

[nuemanfilms]

“YOU COULD’VE ASKED.” || SOULLESS. S.W

“—Like a Bitch in heat.”

Summary; Soulless!Sam has been eying you for a while, his advances haven’t gone unnoticed. You finally can’t help it anymore after you believe he’ll be out for the night on a case with Dean.

Content Warnings; Soulless!Sam, heavy degrading, unprotected sex, piv, F!Masturbation, Creampie, Caught masturbating, Sam being a dick, Mentions of tension, teasing, rough sex, hair pulling, slight pain kink, crying during sex, etc. 16+ ONLY.

A/N; I despite Soulless!Sam, but god fucking damn it he’s hot as hell. Slight plot. 900+.

Xoxo, roro <3

The sound of Sam’s heavy boots clunked down the hallway of the bunker as he headed towards your room.

Ever since Sam lost his soul, you had to admit, the man was fucking hot, he was hot before, but fucking hell. You saw how his eyes trained on your form, how he stared at you with lust clear in his irises. When his hand snuck down to grip your thigh when Dean went on about a case in the town you two were headed earlier, your panties were soaked from the mere contact.

This was pathetic, you felt pathetic as you plunged your fingers in and out of your cunt. Moans and whimpers spilling from your plush lips along with gasps of his name.

The loud footsteps didn’t even register in your brain. Your hips rocked against your fingers, fuck, you could imagine how well his would feel instead of yours.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up when he heard the gasp of his name, a smirk creeping onto his lips as he realized who it was. Dean was out at a bar with some pretty blonde after another argument between the older Winchester and the younger.

The old Sam would walk away, pretending nothing happened. This Sam? He was pushing the door open, leaning against the doorframe as he watched your fingers move in and out of your pussy. He already felt himself harden beneath the denim of his jeans. He watched as you grinded your hips against your hand. Trying to reach that sweet spongy spot that he knew you clearly weren’t successful in.

“You could’ve asked.” You could hear the smirk in his tone, your cheeks immediately heating up. You began to speak before he cut you off again, “Told Dean I was gonna check on you… and here you are, humping your fucking hand like a bitch in heat.” He tilted his head, watching as you looked at him with wide eyes. Something told him you enjoyed how he spoke to you. So he kept going, making his way over to your bed. He was undoing his belt in the process.

“Sam, I-“ You stuttered before he cut you off again, “Shut up, ass up.” You swallowed at that, removing your fingers from your leaking hole and getting into the position he requested. His hand moved to assist you after he tossed his belt, pushing you further into the pillow.

You hadn’t even processed the fact he was lining up with your slick entrance already before he made another degrading comment.

“Wet like a goddamn faucet. It’s for me, isn’t it?” He muttered, his hand skimming over your back before his fingers moved to tangle in your hair. You nodded, the feeling of his tip prodding at your entrance distracting you from a verbal response.

“Answer. Me.” He tugged at your hair once, forcing a strangled moan out of you. He groaned at that, seeing how the pain had a very positive reaction on you judging by the way your slick coated his head.

“God- fuck, yes… it’s been for you.” You choked out, and he finally pushed inside. Filling you in one single snap of his hips, forcing a gasp from your throat.

You were squeezing him so goddamn tight already.

“Fuck, all that and you’re still tight…” He grunted, his fingers resting in your locks before he gave another firm tug. His smirk widened when he heard that small whimper come from you.

After a few moments, he created a pace. Your lewd sounds and the vulgar noise of his cock slamming in and out of your dripping cunt filled your room. Sam’s noises weren’t loud like yours, but you could hear them.

“S-Sam- oh my fucking god…” You moaned out, he let out a deep chuckle at that. He noticed how your hips attempted to move against his. He saw how your pussy swallowed him each time he moved. His free hand moved down, his index and middle finger rubbing at your clit to try and loosen you up around him.

His pace was rough, god, he was fucking ruthless. Yet you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

“Fuck, you really did need this, huh? Taking me so fucking deep… stretching so perfect around me, huh, Sweetheart?” You mewled at that, tears beginning to stain your pillow at his relentless pace. You couldn’t stop saying his name, it was the only thing you seemed to remember at this point. Besides the fact that you could feel the knot building up inside of you, ready to snap at any moment while his cock hit your sweet spot over and over again. It was like he had already memorized it.

He knew you were close, he was too. He could tell by how your moans grew more high-pitched, how your pussy was squeezing him like a goddamn vice. He didn’t hesitate in teasing you for it, “Shit… You’re already gonna come for me? It's not even been that long, Baby… Can’t get enough of this, can you?” You sobbed out another cry of his name in response, his fingers tightened their grip further in your strands. Forcing your head up so you could open your eyes despite your blurry vision.

“Come. Now.” He said, your hips stuttered, your legs were practically shaking. He fucked you through your orgasm, despite his own stuttering hips.

“Filling this pussy up, Honey… and you’re gonna keep it in there.” His tone held a warning, and within seconds he was coming undone inside of you. His release coating your sore walls.

Your breaths were heavy, he pulled out slowly. His hand slid from your hair, letting your head fall against the pillow.

“See? It’s not that hard to ask.”

[2sw]

Supernatural S4E21 When the Levee Breaks S6E07 Family Matters

[italwayshadtobeyou]

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

A Father’s Love?

Sam Winchester & daughter!reader, Dean Winchester & niece!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You (9-10) are left alone with your dad, who currently is missing his soul, and it doesn’t go well

Update: part 2 is here

“Uncle De, please don’t go.” Your voice was low as you tried to keep your dad—who was in the bathroom—from hearing. “I-I don’t wanna be alone with him.”

Dean felt awful for leaving you like this, but he had no choice. You hadn’t been comfortable with Sam since the moment you’d found out he was back—the same time Dean did. You’d been living with Dean, Lisa, and Ben, and when Sam revealed that he’d been back all along, you instantly didn’t trust him. Dean had been angry, sure, but somehow he just hadn’t seen what you had—that your dad wasn’t really himself.

Of course, eventually the three of you—including Sam, who hadn’t been sure what was wrong with him—discovered the truth: he was soulless. As soon as Dean find out, he felt horrible for not understanding your hesitance before. Now that he knew, he tried to avoid leaving you alone with Sam whenever possible, especially since he didn’t really trust Sam without a soul.

But sometimes it was unavoidable.

“Kiddo, you know I don’t have a choice,” Dean said.

“I don’t like it here with him,” you insisted, refusing to let go of Dean’s sleeve. “He-he’s like daddy’s evil twin or something.”

Dean swallowed. “Sweetheart, he’s not evil, ok? He’s just a little weird right now.”

“Daddy’s weird,” you argued. “This guy is bad.”

Dean ran a hand over his face.

“Baby, please. You know I have to go. He’s gonna be good, I promise, and soon enough he’s gonna be back to regular-old dad, I swear.”

Dean left without another word, and the silence that hung in the motel room was deafening.

“Dean left?” Sam asked as he exited the bathroom. You ignored his question—he didn’t actually care, after all—and you went to sit on your bed. You could feel Sam’s eyes on you as you went. The motel stayed the worst kind of silence as you pretended to read while Sam just stared at you.

“What do you want?” You demanded finally, dropping the book. Your voice was nowhere near as firm as you wanted it to be.

“You hate me.” It wasn’t a question.

“You hated me first.” Unlike Sam, you couldn’t look at him while you accused him. Even without looking at the shell that used to be your dad, you could feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes as you waited for him to speak.

“I don’t hate you,” he huffed. “I mean, I don’t particularly care about you, but I don’t hate you.”

Somehow, apathy was even worse.

“Just leave me alone,” you mumbled. You shouldn’t have been surprised when Sam shrugged and obeyed. You felt your eyes drifting to him as he pulled a beer from the fridge and took it to his bed. His eyes caught yours and he frowned.

“What? You said leave you alone.”

“Dad wouldn’t have listened,” you mumbled, but Sam heard you anyway.

“Well, I’m not your dad,” Sam shrugged. “I’m not Sam, not anymore.”

“Ok.” You turned to face away from him. “Now I mean it. Leave me be.”

But Sam was suddenly intrigued, and he ignored your request.

“You and Dean wanted me to stop pretending to be him. This is just me not pretending.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like you,” you said, your eyes downcast.

“Exactly, and I don’t like you either. I mean, you’re kind of a brat.”

“I told you to leave me alone,” you said, finally looking up.

“You beg Dean to keep you with him all the time like I’m gonna hurt you or something, it’s pathetic.” Sam seemed to be getting a real kick out of finally saying all that he’d been thinking over the past few weeks.

“I said leave me alone!” You yelled at him, but he didn’t listen.

“I mean, I remember caring about you when I was that other guy, I just…I just can’t remember why.”

“Go away! Leave me be!” You were on your feet now, shoving and pushing at Sam, but the giant man didn’t even flinch.

“I mean your just a little pest!”

“Stop it! Just go away!”

Crying, overwhelmed, and so unbelievably hurt, you started to slap at the guy who used to be your dad, smacking his neck, his face, whatever you could reach. Suddenly, Sam wasn’t having so much fun anymore.

“Hey!” Though your slaps had little effect on him, one harsh blow from Sam had you flat on your back, dazed and breathing hard. You could still feel the impact of his palm against your cheek, and you couldn’t scramble away from him fast enough.

“If you’re gonna give it out, you should be prepared to take it,” Sam muttered gruffly.

You were on your feet in an instant, and you were out the door before you’d even made the decision to leave.

“Hey!” You could hear your dad—no, not your dad—following after you, and you barely made it five steps out of the room before his arms were around you and dragging you back in.

“Stop it!” You were crying now, and you couldn’t remember when you’d started. “Let me go!”

“If I lose you, Dean’s never gonna help me,” Sam grunted, shoving you back into the room and closing the door behind him. “So how about we all just calm down here.” It wasn’t a request; it was a command. “You don’t hit me, I won’t hit you.”

That would’ve sounded reasonable enough, if not for one thing—your desperate smacks to his skin had done nothing to him, they hadn’t even hurt, but you could already feel the side of your face swelling where he’d hit you. But you didn’t argue with Sam. You didn’t even speak. You just sat on your bed and turned your back on him, pulling your legs up to your chest and burying your face in your knees so you could cry in peace.

Sam left you alone for several minutes, but his sudden hand on your shoulder had you flinching back violently and scrambling away from him.

“Would you calm down?” Sam huffed as he let go. He was holding out a frozen bag of peas. “Put this on it.”

You took it hesitantly and slowly pressed the cold bag to your face.

“Look…” Sam’s hand was back on your shoulder, only now his giant fingers were right at the junction between your neck and your shoulder, and they were squeezing way too hard. “Dean would kill me if he figured out what happened, ok? And he certainly wouldn’t be helping me anymore. So maybe…maybe you just tell him you fell in the shower or something, ok?” He said it like a question, but the grip on your shoulder and the ice in his eyes told the truth; he expected you to lie to Uncle Dean, and you didn’t know what he’d do if you didn’t.

“Ok,” you whispered, and his hand was gone in an instant.

“Ok,” he said firmly.

Then he turned his back on you and left you alone to cry.

…

The swelling was down by the time Dean returned, but you’d looked in the mirror long enough to see a black and purple bruise forming along almost one whole side of your face.

You resisted the urge to run to your uncle the moment he stepped in the door—if you acted scared, he would figure it out, and Sam would be mad. Instead, you stayed where you were with your head down, your hair covering most of the bruise.

“Hey,” Dean greeted. “You guys ok?”

“We’re fine,” Sam said simply. You’d been hoping that he would lie for you, so you didn’t have to, but he seemed content to leave things quiet.

“You sure?” Dean was watching you now, noticing your uncharacteristic silence.

“I’m ok,” your voice was hoarse from crying, and Dean wasn’t fooled.

“What’s wrong?” Dean was in front of you in an instant, brushing your hair behind your ears. His hand recoiled when he saw the bruise. “What happened?”

“I—“ you looked up to face Dean, and your voice caught in your throat when you saw Sam staring daggers at you from behind your uncle’s shoulder. “I f-fell.”

“Fell?” Dean frowned.

You nodded. “In-in the shower.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was dangerously quiet. “Out. Now.”

“Me?” When had Sam become such a good actor? He looked as innocent as ever. “What did I do?”

Despite his acting, Dean wasn’t buying it for a minute.

“Get out! I need to talk to her alone.”

The moment Sam was out the door, Dean was tilting your chin up with a feather-light hand at your chin.

“He hit you, didn’t he.” Dean wasn’t asking.

“I fell,” you lied, the tears in your eyes giving you away.

“Don’t lie for him,” Dean pleaded. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t kick him out,” you pleaded. “We-we have to help him get his soul back. This isn’t him, Uncle Dean.”

“I know it’s not,” Dean sighed. “But I need you to be safe.”

“I’ll be safe when my dad is back.”

…

“You stay away from her.” Dean didn’t give Sam a chance to speak when he let him back into the room.

“Fine.” Sam was done lying—it hadn’t done any good.

“And if you ever touch her again, you’re gone, understand?”

Sam didn’t look happy, but he couldn’t argue.

“I understand.”

…

You slept in Dean’s bed that night—you hadn’t shared a bed with your father since he came back soulless—and Sam went out to do whatever it was that he did while you guys slept. Apparently being soulless meant you didn’t sleep.

“Are you ok?” Dean asked. “And don’t lie to me.”

“It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore,” you mumbled. “I just…I just miss him.”

Dens pulled you into his arms as you started to cry.

“I know, sweetheart. I miss him too. We’re gonna get him back, ok? I promise.”

“Ok Uncle Dean.”

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Sam Winchester in SUPERNATURAL 6.03