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losers-clvb · 1 day ago

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"you said if we had been closer in age, maybe it would have been fine" sam winchester x party girl!reader

content: age gap, fluff, angst, language, sam is a little mean, reader is a little crazy, travis appearance lol

word count: 4k

song: all too well ten minute version by taylor swift

note: everyone say "thank you jen" for encouraging me to get this out!! love you, girl @xoswiftieprincess !

m.list meet party girl!

The winding roads had been relatively empty compared to what you had been used to in the city.

Sam drove with one hand on the steering wheel, the other grasping yours in your lap. You'd been drifting in and out of sleep the entire drive, listening to the soft voices on the podcast Sam had picked out.

There had been a deal: half the drive would be Sam's choice, the other your own. You assumed he'd play the music he grew up on, the kind his brother still blasted through Impala speakers the few times he'd come with Sam to visit.

Instead, you were learning about the ancient Aztecs's religious traditions.

What a fucking snoozefest.

Still, you didn’t complain, and had even carried on a conversation about the topic. It was a lot of uh huhs and wait, what does that means, but you wanted him to feel heard. You loved his brain, you loved his enthusiasm, you loved him. So what if you had to pretend sometimes?

“Baby,” Sam muttered, putting more pressure into the strokes of his thumb on your hand. You opened an eye, turning your head to look at him.

“Hmm?” You hummed.

“We gotta stop at the store. I told Jody I’d pick a few things up.”

“Okay, honey.” You dismissed before cuddling into his arm, resting your cheek on his forearm.

When Sam had asked you to go with him to a dinner, one thrown together with his mismatched family. Dean would be there, but you already knew him. The real anxiety maker?

Some lady you didn’t know who obviously meant something to Sam.

Jody had heard about you in passing. She thought great, let Sam finally have a fling. But when your name kept coming up months after, getting close to a year of your relationship taking bloom, she knew she had to let him know she supported him. He didn’t have much of that, and Jody was always happy to play step-in-mother.

There was a small fact that had escaped her in all the times she’d heard Sam and Dean talking about you: your age. They had bickered about Dean picking fun at your youth, but she figured he was being dramatic, like he usually was. She was expecting someone maybe a year or two younger. What a surprise she was about to get.

That would be a future problem. Right now, Sam was more focused on your cheek pressed against him, breath ghosting over his skin. He was so focused on you, in fact, that he had taken his eyes off the road to admire your slightly parted lips.

The first thing he saw when he looked back to the road was the glowing red cast over the darkening street. He knew there was no hope for slamming on the brakes. He made the conscious decision to coast on through it, thanking whatever force he still believed in for allowing the cross-traffic to be nonexistent. He’d relaxed into his seat when you spoke.

“Did you just run a red light?” You had a slight slur in your voice, the sleep slowly seeping off of you. He flicked his gaze to the corner of his eye, wanting to catch your expression. Aside from the usual killing-and-maiming-of-monsters thing, Sam was pretty straight laced. He followed traffic laws, he always returned his shopping cart to the corral, and he never drank too much. This wasn’t like him.

“No.” Sam answered, mumbling the word out in hopes that you hadn’t actually seen the light, or perhaps that you had suddenly gone colorblind and couldn’t actually tell green from red.

“Mmm,” you purred, sitting up, “looked pretty red to me.”

Sam couldn’t help the smile that tugged on his lips. You stretched your arms, a small noise escaping you at the relief it brought.

“It may have been slightly red.” Sam’s hand had fallen from your hand when you stretched, but he immediately placed it on your thigh, needing to just touch a part of you to keep him grounded.

“There is no slightly red, Sammy.”

“You’re criticizing my driving?” He steered the conversation away from himself, a teasing tone in his voice. “Do I have to remind you of last month?”

“I didn’t hit that curb! It got in my way.” You defended.

There had been one time during Sam’s last visit that he had dared to let you drive. He had been exhausted and, hey, you had your license, so you couldn’t have been that bad of a driver, right?

Wrong.

Whoever proctored your test must have been unconscious because there was no way you had passed on your own. You took turns too sharply, had to slam on your brakes more than once, and had even scraped a bit of the body of the car on a curb. Sam cringed at the memory of the nails-on-chalkboard noise it had made.

“Mhm,” Sam hummed and, if you were less focused on looking for the perfect spot for him to park in at the store, you would have teased him for the sassy tone of it.

You gathered your purse up, more of a formality than anything since Sam never let you pay for anything, but stopped when you noticed him just staring at you. You quirked an eyebrow up, a small pout popping your lips out.

“What?” You asked when he still didn’t move.

“I love you.” Sam answered simply, cupping your cheek in his hand. His thumb brushed across your chin.

“I know,” you giggled before kissing him, almost sighing at the taste of coffee and spearmint. “I love you too.”

And so it was, you gathered Sam’s hand in yours while you cruised the aisles of the grocery store. Sam held a basket in his other hand, ignoring the growing weight with every item you placed in it.

He had eyed the packet of gummy worms you had swiped up, but said nothing. There was no winning the argument of whether or not you needed them when you were going to a dinner. He would have to live with the fact that you were surviving on an 80% sweet treat diet.

“Chocolate or blueberry?” You asked, holding up two muffin options. Sam pretended to contemplate the decision. You scrunched your nose up and shook the packages, trying to get him to give you an answer quicker.

“Blueberry,” he finally replied, holding the basket out for you to drop them in. Just before you could skip ahead of him to the next aisle, he pulled you in for another kiss. It was quick and sweet, nothing like the heated makeout you two had when he picked you up.

Still, Sam noticed the furrowed brows of the middle-aged man who swiftly passed by. His glance at your college id card hanging out of your purse that quickly shot to observe your swollen lips gave the man all the information he needed to send a nasty glare Sam’s way. He knew what it meant. It was the “stop kissing young girls, you creep” look that he picked up on far too often for his liking.

He shouldn’t care about it. He knew that. You had gone on many tangents about how you didn’t “give a shit” if some “bitchy assholes” found a problem with the “true love” you and Sam shared.

It didn’t stop the small distance he kept between you two for the rest of the shopping trip.

Back in the privacy of the car, he let himself hold you again. The rest of the drive to Jody’s was full of laughter and you feeding him those damned gummy worms.

You were nervous. Very nervous.

What if she didn’t like you? Again, you didn’t care much what other people thought, but if Sam’s family didn’t like you, there was no way your relationship would last.

The pit in your stomach grew while each thump of Sam’s fist on the door. You stood next to him, one of his flannels draped over your shoulders and the muffins in your hands.

“Sam-,” you began to ask if Jody was nice, for around the fiftieth time that day, when the door swung open to reveal--

“Hey-ey!” Dean exclaimed, holding his arms out as if to say “look at this!”. “My two favorite dorks!”

“You weren’t calling me a dork when I outdrank your ass.” You snapped back. Technically, you had only won the little drinking game because some blonde behind you had caught Dean’s eye, but you took that as a win.

“You didn’t outdrink me, you-,” Dean started to argue, but Sam cut him off.

“Can we maybe not do this all over again?” Sam sighed. A smile was weaving itself onto his face despite his attempts at exasperation. He couldn’t help the joy that swelled in his chest at the sight of his two favorite people getting along so well.

“Of course, whatever my honey wants.” You shoved the muffins into Dean’s hands before wrapping your fingers around Sam’s arm, hanging on him to calm the anxiety that had sprung back up the moment you remembered why you were standing on a random doorstep. He kissed the top of your head and pulled you in close.

“C’mon, honey,” Dean sneered the pet name with that brotherly love he bottled up specially for Sam, “dinner’s almost done.” He turned on his heel and sauntered to the kitchen.

“I love you.” Sam mumbled to you one last time. He knew you were nervous. Hell, he was nervous too. He hoped his words would help ease you. If you were happy, he would be happy, at least, that was the theory.

You clung to Sam as he directed you in the direction Dean had gone in. The clatter of scraping and sizzling was growing louder with each step.

“Dean, get your fingers out-,” a feminine, but strong, voice scolded, “no touching!”

Your eyes caught onto the woman flitting about, a dish towel slung over her shoulder. She swatted at Dean’s hand, making you laugh. It wasn’t very loud, but she must’ve had the hearing of a dog, because she spun around. Her attention caught on Sam first, his large figure being a beacon in any room.

“Sam! You’re here. And this is-,” her voice cut off when she flicked her gaze to you. You offered a smile and she returned it, though it wavered a bit. “You must be his girlfriend! I’ve heard so many things, all good.”

“Sam goes on and on about you and Dean.” You revealed, melting into your boyfriend’s side. The tension you felt before had lifted, and you were utterly relieved for that fact.

“Well, I’ve saved his ass enough times, he better talk about me.” Jody joked. Her eye caught movement just behind her. “Dean!”

“What?” Dean tried to say, but with the biscuit shoved in his mouth, it came out as more of a “whuff?”. You snickered at the scene. Whatever initial thoughts Jody had about you faded away and you all moved about as a perfect unit, only bumping into each other once or twice.

Dinner spun by without problem. Or, well, without a clear problem. No one argued, other than the small bicker between Sam and Dean about who got to use the butter first. There were no ill-willed glares. Everything seemed to be in perfect harmony.

Until you tried to hold Sam’s hand. To his credit, he did let you rest your palm on his for a few moments. Slowly, he had inched it away, opting to hide his hands in his lap. You were left staring off into the space where he should have been, but an empty tabletop lay instead.

Laughter surrounded you.

Was Sam embarrassed to love you in front of others? You hadn’t thought that before. No, he always held your hand. He always gave you quick pecks just for the hell of it. He had never done this, never treated you like some little girl that was constantly begging for attention.

You couldn’t shake the shame you felt. It lingered on your skin through the rest of the meal. Even Jody’s apple pie couldn’t get it to go away.

Now, the night air chilled you on your short walk to Sam’s car. You didn’t dare reach for Sam, not after how he made you feel.

Sam knew something was wrong. You weren’t as happy as you usually were. You didn’t immediately weave your fingers into his when he climbed into the car. You made no move to play your music, leading the first half hour of the car ride back to your college town to be silent.

Your eyes stayed glued to the window. The darkened night sky held stars, but you didn’t feel like looking at them. You were mad. You were sad. You were embarrassed.

You heard Sam sigh, then mumble your name. His fingers brushed onto your clothed arm.

“Did you have fun?” He asked, voice soothing. It quelled a bit of the tension you held in your body, but the mental image of his hand sliding away from yours made you swallow down the thick emotion that was building in you.

“Yeah.” You answered short. It wasn’t a complete lie. Dean and Jody were fun. Sam was the one who made it not so enjoyable, but you didn’t want to confront him about it. Would it make you sound like a child throwing a fit?

“You’re kinda quiet,” Sam laughed, glancing at you for a moment. Your eyes dropped to the floor and you bit your lip to keep from responding. He frowned, concern washing onto him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“There’s obviously something, baby. Please talk to me.” Sam tapped a finger on your thigh, out of habit. You hesitated, but he wasn’t gonna let this go, you knew that.

“Are you embarrassed of me?” You asked, voice small. You had never felt so… immature before. You hated it.

Sam nearly choked on his breath.

“What? Why would I be embarrassed? I love you.” He couldn’t believe this. How could you think he would be anything but proud of you?

“I know you love me, this isn’t about that.” You didn’t like how he was seemingly avoiding this. Did he really not see it all?

The answer was, no, he didn’t see it. It wasn’t something he set out to do. It all just happened, like all the guilt he felt about loving a younger woman just took control.

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about you not wanting to hold my hand at dinner. You made me feel like a little girl, Sam.” You unloaded it all on him.

Sam. Not honey, not Sammy. Sam. Like he didn’t mean anything to you.

Sam ignored the pang of heartache at the formality of the name.

“This is about me not holding your hand?” Sam scoffed. The condescension in his voice wasn’t intentional, but it still rang through you, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“No, Sam, this is about you not holding my hand in front of your family. You treated me like I was your friend, some acquaintance, not your girlfriend.” You didn’t even think of the next words that came out, but it was what escalated this argument. “Like loving me is wrong.”

Sam cringed at your words. He cringed because he’d thought them before. He’d thought loving you was wrong, morally, anyway. He took a deep breath, the regret he felt for what he was about to say doing nothing to stop him.

“Well, isn’t it? In some way, my love for you shouldn’t exist, right?”

You felt a shiver run up your spine. No. This couldn’t be happening. He regretted loving you.

“Why, because of my age? Because I don’t kill things for a living?” You spat out.

“Yeah. Because of your age.” Sam answered, nodding. Light flew over your faces while he drove, the signs of businesses paving the way to the end of the best thing that had ever happened to you.

“You’re not that much older than me. I mean, Jesus, I’ve had friends date men older than you.” You murmured, ignoring the pricking of tears at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t cry, not now. It would show Sam that he was right, you were too young, you couldn’t even handle a simple fight.

“I’m thirty-,” Sam was cut off by you.

“You just turned thirty, like last month. My birthday’s in-,” this time Sam cut you off.

“You’re gonna be twenty-two. That’s eight years,” he finished the sentence with your name. He sounded far too much like a scolding parent.

“I can do math, I’m not stupid.” You scoffed, crossing your arms. Sam rolled his eyes. You were taking this all the wrong way. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. But, here he was, trying to talk you down from making him the bad guy.

“I didn’t call you stupid.” Sam tightened his grip on the steering wheel to keep him focused. “You’re acting like a child,” he mumbled, hoping you wouldn’t hear it, because, really, he didn’t mean it.

“What?” You asked, pushing your head forward, ear turned to him. Now you were really pissed off. “What was that?”

“I said, you’re acting like a child.” He repeated, shaking his head.

You nodded your head sarcastically.

“If I’m such a child, maybe we shouldn’t be together. Wouldn’t want you to be a creepy old man.” You seethed, quoting his words from a few weeks into your relationship. He’d confided in you about his feelings, about how he felt wrong in how right your skin felt against him. At the time, you’d given him a kiss on the nose and said all the right things to make him feel better. Now, it was fuel for you to get through to him. You were hoping he would see where he was wrong, that he would take it all back and everything would go back to the way it had been.

Apparently you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be.” He agreed, eyes glued to the road so he wouldn’t see the effect his words had.

You froze, staring at the side of his face. He didn’t glance at you, he didn’t look like he regretted his words. The tears you had been holding back fell, streaking your mascara.

“What?” You asked, voice wavering. Please, you silently begged, please just say you’re sorry.

“We shouldn’t be together. This isn’t working, not like it should.” Sam knew he was being overdramatic to some extent. Really, your relationship did work, but he didn’t want to ruin you. He didn’t want to be the thing holding you back from something better, something easier. So, instead he hurt you. “Maybe if we were closer in age, it would. But, we can’t change that.”

“We can’t change that, so we should just ignore it. It shouldn’t matter.” You blabbered out, fingers trembling where you rested them on the middle console of the vehicle.

“It does. You know it does.”

“I don’t care about our ages!” You argued, trying to swipe away some tears.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want you to cry. It wasn’t fair, but this was how it had to be. Sometimes life wasn’t fair.

“Yeah, well, I do.” Sam sighed, flexing his jaw.

Your heart completely shattered. You couldn’t sit here and let him talk to you like this. You gripped onto the strap of your purse.

“Let me out.” Your voice was as flat as you could manage. Sam furrowed his brows. What the hell were you talking about? “Let me out. Now.” You repeated, a bit more stern.

“What? No.” Sam wasn’t gonna let you walk the streets of some random town. He would bring you back to your dorm, crying or not.

“Sam, let me out now or I’ll fucking jump out!” You threatened. Yeah, it was a little crazy, but you weren’t thinking straight. And Sam knew you, even if he pretended not to. He knew you would jump out, given enough motivation.

He pulled into the parking lot of a closed Burger King. The car hadn’t even stopped all the way before you lept out, sneakers hitting pavement. Sam huffed and put the car into park, climbing out to follow you. You were his girl -- wait, no, not anymore, but he still felt responsible for you.

You were a mess. There wasn’t a specific direction you were headed in. You just wanted away from this, away from the shame that still oozed all over you. You heard Sam call your name, causing you to quicken your pace.

“Get back in the car.” It wasn’t a demand, it was a plea. You shook your head, sucking in a steadying breath. It didn’t help.

“No.” You shuffled through your purse, looking for your phone. You needed someone, anyone. Anyone other than Sam.

“Please, just-,” Sam reached for your arm, but you flinched away.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You yelled. He didn’t get to touch you after breaking your heart like that. Your fingers slipped on the buttons on your phone as you typed, causing you to take longer to find your friend’s contact that it should have. You all but sprinted away from Sam, holding the phone to your ear.

He followed you, sighing.

“Stop acting like this.” There it was again, that fucking parental scolding. You cut a glare at him.

“Fuck,” you mumbled when the call went to voicemail. She was probably sleeping, like you should have been. That had been the plan. Sam would bring you back to the motel he always booked when he was in town to visit, and you two would spend the night together before he had to get back to helping Dean. Instead, you were here, wishing you had never met the tall man following you around the sidewalks.

“Baby-,” it just slipped out, Sam didn’t mean to say it, but you spun on your heel, cutting him off.

“Don’t. Don’t fucking call me that.” You had a murderous look in your eyes. He’d really pissed you off this time. It wasn’t your first fight, but it was looking to be your last.

You dialed another number, praying to God that he was awake. Of course, he was. I mean, when did Travis spend a Friday night not partying?

“Rosie?” Travis answered the phone with. He knew you were with Sam, you hadn’t shut up about this night for days. He just didn’t know why you were calling him.

“Trav,” you almost sobbed, the familiarity of your nickname hurting more than it should. “Can you pick me up?”

“What the fuck did he do?” Travis asked, but he was already moving toward his car. He took care of you like a sister, and he’d be damned if he would let you spend one more second hurting. Thankfully, he hadn’t drank as much as usual.

“Just…,” your lip quivered when you saw Sam standing there, staring at you like that. Like he cared. “Please hurry.”

And he did. Travis turned the three-hour drive into two hours. His hardened gaze immediately softened at the sight of you sitting on the curb near the Burger King, Sam leaned against the building, keeping watch over you.

You shot up at the sight of your savior, stumbling to him before collapsing into his arms. Travis glared at Sam. He didn’t know what had happened, but whatever it was, it had left you like this, and that was all he needed to hate the older man.

“I’m-,” Sam started to say “I’m sorry”, but Travis snapped at him before he could continue.

“Shut the fuck up.”

party girl taglist : @xoswiftieprincess @whothefvckami @giowritess

sam winchester taglist : @hobiespick

#supernatural #sam winchester #x reader #spn #supernatural x reader #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fic #party girl!reader #all too well 10 min version #taylor swift

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plasticflowersinahistorycemetery · 3 days ago

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strange eyes

one-shot

Pairing: Soulless!Sam x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been with Sam for years. He's always been safe, always secure, always sanctuary. Until he lost his soul. Now you don't know the eyes staring back at you... and worse? You don't know if you prefer them.

Warnings: 18+!, soulless!Sam is his own warning, semi-established Sam x reader, language, smut (dub-con kinda, oral/blowjob, deepthroating, spit, fingering, clitoral stimulation, p in v, manhandling, dirty talk), condescension, I may have missed some.

Word Count: 6,117

A/N: Phew. This has been sitting in my drafts for longer than I care to admit, but it is finally done! And I looove it. Soulless!Sam just does things to me that aren't healthy, and I won't be seeking any medical help for. I hope y'all likey!!! Give me feedback if you want, it's always welcome. <3 Smin out, until the next one. All the love.

"You're just a body, just a shell Just a heart that stopped beating So when I spent the night in The gaze of strange eyes would you mind? Oh, tell me would you mind?"

Would You Mind - Friday Pilots Club

You used to count on Sam Winchester to blink twice before making a move.

There was a softness in him, once. A reverence in the way he’d hover his hands before touching you, as though seeking divine permission. Like he thought you might shatter if he reached for you too quickly. His voice had always come stitched with apology—threaded through with some ancient ache, a mourning for every bruise the world ever left on you.

And when he looked at you...

God, he used to look at you like he was memorising your soul.

But the man standing in front of you now? He didn’t blink at all. He just stared. And there was something in those eyes—something glacial, something ancient and unnatural—that makes your breath catch behind your ribs. You know you should run.

But you don't.

“You're quiet,” he said, and the words fell like glass—smooth, cold, a little too sharp. His voice hadn’t changed, not on the surface. Still low. Still calm. Still velvet around the edges. But the warmth was gone. No lilt. No longing. Just vacancy. A song with the soul ripped out.

Your throat tightened. “You’re different.”

He tilted his head at you like a predator might when studying prey it had already decided to consume.

“Am I?”

It wasn’t curiosity. It wasn’t confusion. It was a dare.

You nodded anyway. Swallowed hard. “You don’t look at me the same.”

He stepped forward. Then again. And you didn’t move. You should've. You should've. But something in you stayed very still.

The old Sam—your Sam—would’ve faltered here. He would’ve hesitated, afraid of hurting you just by standing too close. He’d made himself small when your shadows overlapped, like the sheer closeness might stain you.

But this version? He crowded.

You didn’t even notice yourself retreat until your back found the motel dresser, the wood biting against your spine.

He followed. A single hand planted beside your hip—palm flat, fingers long and deliberate. Not trapping you. Just there. Close enough to own.

His voice lowered, curled like smoke against your jaw. “Maybe I see you more clearly now,” he murmured. “Ever think of that?”

His breath ghosted across your cheek. You went still, not out of fear, but anticipation—like prey lulled quiet by the sound of its own heartbeat.

Your spine straightened on instinct. Your knees weakened in betrayal. You didn’t answer him. You couldn’t. Because he was right. You did feel seen.

Not adored. Not protected. Not held like something sacred.

Seen.

Like he was reading the festering behind your ribs. Like he knew all the things you pretended not to want. Like he already imagined giving them to you, and taking something in return.

He retreated, grabbed his gun from his duffel and planted himself down on the edge of the bed with a grace that surprised you.

You didn’t remember when the shift began.

Maybe it was gradual, like rot beneath floorboards—silent, invisible, until one day you stepped wrong and everything caved in.

Maybe it started with the way he stopped flinching in his sleep. No more quiet whimpers. No more restless twisting under threadbare motel sheets. Just stillness. Heavy. Unnerving. As if he no longer dreamed, or worse—he no longer feared what waited when his eyes closed. As if he didn't ever sleep deep anymore.

Maybe it was the way he stopped asking if you were okay after a hunt. Stopped checking your hands for tremors. Stopped offering water, or warmth, or words. He’d just wipe the blood from his blade with mechanical precision, eyes far away, and you’d sit there blinking against the aftermath—still shaking, still human—while he seemed like something else entirely.

Or maybe it was that night in Georgia.

The man had been screaming. You remember that part. You remember the sound of cartilage tearing, the awful, wet resistance of bone as Sam's hand pushed up beneath the ribs and pulled. You remember the way the heart came free—ugly and red and still twitching.

And you remember the way he held it.

Like it wasn’t a heart at all. Like it was something less. Something useful. He looked up and saw you standing there. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t falter. Didn’t drop it. There was blood across his jaw, warm and fresh. It painted his throat like warpaint, soaked into the collar of his shirt.

He didn’t explain. Didn’t bother with words. Just walked past you, slow and deliberate, as though what he’d done meant nothing at all.

His shoulder brushed yours, and his fingers grazed your wrist—fleeting, quiet. A whisper of skin against skin.

Like a promise. Like a warning. Like a brand.

You should’ve screamed. Should’ve run. But all you did was watch. Your breath stilled in your lungs. And for one dark, breathless second… you wanted him to touch you again.

Now, he watched you like he was waiting for you to catch up. Not with his eyes, but with something deeper. Something colder. A predator’s patience. A god’s detachment.

He was never cruel. Not exactly. Just absent. Cold, yes. Detached, absolutely. But it was the stillness that undid you. Like he had already decided what was going to happen. And he was simply… waiting for you to figure it out.

You tried not to speak when he was like this. Tried not to fill the silence with something soft, something stupid. But the quiet stretched too long, and the truth slipped out of your mouth like a confession:

“I miss your soul.”

It was barely a whisper. Just breath and want.

He didn’t even look up at first—still seated at the edge of the bed, fingers slotting bullets into the clip with mindless precision.

Then, he did. One glance. A flick of his gaze. And it cut like a blade made of ice.

“No, you don’t.”

You froze. Your lungs forgot what they were for. And then he looked at you. Really looked. Not with softness. Not with warmth. Not even with recognition. But like he was considering you.

Same hazel eyes. Same long lashes. Same freckle beneath the left brow. But they were not his eyes. They were wrong. Strange eyes. Like someone rearranged the stars behind them.

“You don’t miss my soul,” he said slowly, carefully, as if drawing each word in blood. “You miss the part of me that made you feel safe.”

His voice was calm. Inarguable. Like a man explaining gravity.

You swallowed hard. “And you’re not?”

His head tilted, slow. Like he was tasting the question. And then—silence. A pause so long it coiled around your spine and squeezed. He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. He just said:

“I think I’d rather ruin you.”

The words should've sounded cruel. Vicious. But they didn’t. They sounded like truth, like prayer. Like inevitability.

You flinched. Not from fear. But from the way your stomach dropped—hot, tight, electric, because you wanted him to. God help you. You wanted him to. You wanted the ruin. The unraveling. You wanted to see how far he’d go, how far you’d go, if no one stopped him.

And that terrified you more than anything he could ever do, because you knew—he wouldn’t stop. Not unless you begged. And maybe not even then.

The silence between you was thick enough to choke on.

He still hadn’t moved. Still seated on the edge of the bed, assembling his weapon like this was any other night. Like he hadn’t just said he wanted to ruin you.

You were leaning against the motel dresser, arms crossed tight, as if trying to hold yourself inside your own skin. The flickering lamplight painted long shadows behind him. Gold on his hands. Black in his eyes.

He slid another round into the magazine. Click. Click. Precise. Indifferent.

You shouldn’t have said anything. You should’ve kept the air quiet. But your voice crept out anyway, small and acidic.

“I know what you’ve been doing.”

No reaction. Not even a glance. His eyes stayed trained on the gun in his lap, fingers moving with calm efficiency.

You swallowed, your fingers fidgeting at the hem of your sleeve. “On the nights you need to get off.”

Still nothing. You hated how steady his hands were. How still he remained.

“I know you’ve been going to other women.”

That got him.

Slowly, deliberately, he looked up. His expression didn’t change. But his mouth curved, just a little. A smirk, carved lazily across his face—equal parts confirmation and dismissal.

A silent but obvious and unmistakable: So?

That’s what it meant. That’s all it meant. He looked back down at his gun.

Your throat was tight. “That kinda… stings.”

You didn’t know why you said it. Maybe to hurt him. Maybe to remind yourself he could still be hurt. But he didn’t flinch. He just finished loading the last bullet. Slid the clip into place with a clean, mechanical click. Then he looked up again. Eyes gleaming, dark with something unreadable.

He leaned back slightly on his elbows, legs spread, gun resting across his thigh like an afterthought.

And he said, almost conversationally—

“You want the truth?”

You nodded, even though your hands had gone cold.

He hummed, low and amused. “I don’t want the soft stuff anymore.”

You blinked.

He kept going. “That version of me—Sammy—he liked soft. Vanilla. Slow. He asked if it was okay. He waited for eye contact.”

He scoffed, quiet and cruel.

“Now? That doesn’t work.” He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were under glass. “I need more now. Rougher. Louder. Faster. Something real. Something… raw.”

The space between you cracked open.

“I don’t want to kiss like we’re in love. I want to devour. I want to leave marks. Bruises. Want to feel you break around me.”

You felt your breath stutter.

“I don’t want sweet little gasps,” he murmured. “I want to hear you cry. Scream. Beg.”

He smiled, slow and soulless.

“And the girls I’ve been with? They let me. No questions. No shame. No lines to cross.”

You felt your knees go weak. But you didn’t move.

“And you,” he said, eyes glittering. “You stood over there and told me you missed my soul. But now you’re standing there like that, biting your lip, thighs pressed together, chest heaving like I’ve got a hand on your throat.”

He rose from the bed with terrifying ease.

“Tell me again what stings, sweetheart.”

He stood. And you felt it in your spine. Like thunder rolling in the ribs of the earth. One step forward. Just one.

And your pulse shattered.

His body moved with unnatural calm—liquid and lethal, like something serpentine. Like a predator that had already picked you, already decided.

His voice dropped, smooth and low and terrifyingly even.

“You keep watching me like you don’t know what I am.” Another step. “You do.”

The distance between you began to vanish.

“You’re just hoping I won’t act on it.”

His eyes never left yours. You couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. Something about him rooted you—like your body knew. Like some ancient, ancestral terror was telling your legs not to move, because running wouldn’t matter anyway.

Another step.

“You think this is still love.”

His mouth twitched—something that might’ve once been a smile, but now looked more like the first tear in a curtain before the whole thing came down.

“You think the boy who used to kiss your throat is still in here.”

Another step.

You couldn’t breathe.

“But he’s not.”

He was close now. So close. Your back pressed harder to the dresser like your body was trying to claw backward into the wood.

“You miss how he touched you like you were holy.”

Another step. His voice dropped to a murmur.

“I want to touch you like you’re mine.”

Heat flooded your veins. Shame. Hunger. Horror. Want.

His fingers twitched at his sides. He wasn’t touching you. Not yet. But he didn’t need to.

“Do you know how many women I’ve bent over motel sinks since I lost my soul?” He asked, like he was asking if you knew the weather.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

He took one more step. Now the air between you was heat. Static. You were breathing his breath.

“I didn’t even learn their names.”

His eyes dragged over your face, your mouth, your throat, your trembling hands.

“I choked them. Left bruises. Didn’t ask. Didn’t care.” A pause. A beat of silence. “But you?”

His hand lifted—slow, like it was rising through water—and he brushed the backs of his fingers along your jaw.

Not soft. Not rough. Just inevitable.

“You’re the one I wanted to destroy from the beginning.”

You gasped. It was barely sound. But it broke the tension like glass.

He leaned in. His lips hovered near your ear, but didn’t touch.

“You ready for that, babygirl?” He whispered, the pet name mocking you. “Ready to stop pretending you want anything less?”

His hand curled around your throat—not squeezing. Not yet. Just holding. Measuring. Waiting for you to nod. His hand around your throat was loose. Barely there. More of a placeholder than a threat. But it told you everything you needed to know—this was where you’d break.

Not if. When.

His thumb dragged slowly across the column of your throat, resting just below your jaw. He could feel your pulse fluttering there—fast, frantic, guilty.

God, he loved that.

You were trembling, breath shallow, chest heaving like prey trapped beneath the paw. And still—still, he didn’t touch you with real intent. He didn’t have to. His eyes drifted down the length of you, unhurried, detached. He looked like a man browsing. Not hungry. Just curious. Deciding whether you were worth the effort.

You hated how your body reacted to it. How your thighs ached. How your nails dug into the wood of the dresser behind you. How your mouth parted like you might beg.

And that’s when he spoke. Low. Easy. Measured.

“Nah,” he said, almost like he was talking to himself. “I don’t think you could handle it.”

The words were silk dipped in venom. They hit harder than a slap.

You blinked. “What?”

He smiled, slow and cutting. “You’d cry.”

You stared at him.

“I’d break you in five minutes. You say you want it, but you don’t know what that means anymore. Not with me.”

He leaned in slightly. Close enough to make you flinch.

“You think you’re ready to be used by someone who doesn’t care if you come or cry?” He murmured. “That’s not the kind of fuck your Sammy gave you. That’s not love. It’s consumption.” He tilted his head. “You want to be consumed?”

Your breath hitched.

He straightened again, casually, like the conversation bored him now. He stepped back a pace, wiping his hand down the front of his shirt as if to rid himself of your presence.

“Didn’t think so,” he muttered.

It wasn’t even cruel. That was what made it worse. It was dismissive. Like you weren’t worth the effort.

And something in you—something base, something starving—snapped. You surged forward before your mind could catch up. Fell to your knees on the filthy carpet so fast your palms stung from hitting the ground. Your fingers went to his belt like instinct, fumbling with the buckle, your breath a hot, shameful mess.

“Don’t tell me what I can handle,” you snapped up at him, voice trembling with defiance.

His brows raised. Amused. He didn’t stop you. Didn’t even reach for you. Just watched, smug, as your shaking hands worked open the leather, your fingers brushing against the zipper of his jeans like a prayer you weren’t ready to say out loud.

He chuckled, dark and low. “Look at you,” he said. “Didn’t even have to touch you.”

Your hands stilled, but you didn’t pull back. You couldn’t.

His fingers tangled in your hair, slow and lazy, not guiding—claiming.

“Go on then,” he said, voice velvet and venom. “Show me what you think you’re ready for.”

You weren’t thinking anymore. You were running on something far more dangerous than instinct—pride. You had something to prove. To yourself. To him. You weren’t sure which one hurt more.

Your hands worked fast, clumsy with urgency, trembling with the weight of your need. His belt clattered open. The zipper followed. The heat of him hit your face like a furnace.

You didn’t pause. Didn’t breathe. Just leaned in, pressing the softest kiss to the flushed head of his cock, lips parted like a prayer. He twitched in your hand. You licked once—slow, reverent. Let your tongue trace the slit, tasting salt and something deeper.

Your hand pumped him at the base, steady but tender, the other anchoring you by the waistband of his jeans, your knuckles white where they clung to the denim like it might hold you together.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you suckled gently on the tip, tongue swirling, lips plush and eager. You worked him slowly, lovingly, trying to show him you could still bring softness. That he didn’t need to lose this part of you.

He made a sound above you. Not a groan. Not a gasp. A hum.

Appraising.

And when his fingers slid into your hair, your heart stuttered. The weight of his hand was grounding, familiar, almost tender.

There you are, you thought. There’s my Sammy—

But then he tightened his grip. And without a word, he pulled. You choked on the sudden force, mouth forced wide, cock driven past your tongue and lodged deep in your throat before your mind could catch up.

Your eyes flew open, wide and wet and panicked.

He stared down at you with no softness, no hesitation. Just the flicker of a smile. Then he laughed. Low. Cruel. Quiet. Like he’d won a bet with himself.

His other hand came to rest against the back of your head—not soothing. Pushing. He pressed you down farther. Another inch. Then another.

You gagged around him, throat tightening, breath obliterated. Tears stung your eyes, your hands scrambling against his thighs, fingernails digging into denim. You tried to breathe, tried to pull back, but his grip held fast.

“Mm,” he murmured, amused. “Too soft.”

Then he ripped you off him with a savage tug of your hair.

You fell back on your knees, gasping. Coughing, spluttering, wiping spit from your chin and the mess staining the front of your dress. Your jaw ached. Your throat burned.

And he just stood there, looking down at you like you were a toy that had almost broken.

His smile widened. Slow. Sinister. “There she is,” he said.

You looked up at him with tear-streaked cheeks, chest heaving, and he crouched slightly to meet your gaze. His hand came to your chin—not gently. He swiped his thumb across your cheek, gathering spit, then dragged it across your lips.

“You thought you could handle me?” He asked, soft and mocking. “That little mouth, trying to act like it could take what I’ve become?”

He leaned in, voice a whisper, cruel and precise.

“You look better like this. Ruined. On your knees. Eyes full of tears and your pretty lips dripping with cock.”

You whimpered.

He stood tall again, unbothered. Leisurely. Like he had all night. “Now,” he said, voice laced with sugar and venom. “We’re gonna try that again. Slower this time.”

A pause. Then:

“And if you ever try to tease me with that soft shit again—kisses and whimpers and love—I’ll fuck your throat raw until you can’t make a sound.”

He didn’t wait for your answer. This version of Sam didn’t need consent—he needed compliance. His hand tangled in your hair again, tighter this time. No warning. No rhythm. Just force. He dragged you back down to his cock like you were a thing to be used, like you were his.

And fuck—maybe you were.

Your mouth opened out of instinct, and he fed himself to you with no patience at all. Just a low, satisfied exhale through his nose as you struggled to take him again. You gagged. Loud. Wet. Spit coated your chin in seconds. Tears blurred your vision. Your throat clenched helplessly around him, but he didn’t let up—he held you there, one hand on the back of your head, the other fisted in your hair so tight your scalp screamed.

“That’s it,” he murmured. Not praise. Not really. Just data. Observation. Like a scientist taking notes while his experiment collapsed.

“Messy little thing.”

You moaned—tried to, anyway. It came out strangled and desperate, buried around the weight in your mouth.

He pulled back just an inch, letting you gasp in a single breath—then shoved himself deep again, until your nose met his abdomen and your throat convulsed.

You whined. Your hands trembled where they clung to his thighs.

“That soft little version of you?” He panted. “The one that blushed when I kissed her neck? She couldn’t take this.”

His hips rolled forward again, shallow and slow, using your mouth as if he’d been waiting to do it since the second he came back without a soul.

“You think I’d let her cry like this?” He hissed. “Think I’d shove it this deep?”

He barked a laugh.

“No. She was too pretty. Too precious.”

He leaned forward slightly, breathing hard, hair falling in his face as he looked down at you, utterly wrecked.

“But you?” His voice dropped to a growl. “You’re perfect for this.”

Your spit was everywhere. Down your chin, across your lips, wetting your shirt. Your mascara ran. Your mouth was burning. Your throat ached.

And still, he pushed. Still, he used. You clawed at his thigh, not to stop him—never to stop him. Just to hold on. He saw it. Of course he did.

“Yeah, there it is.” he muttered. “Good fucking girl.”

It shouldn’t have felt like praise. Not with the venom in his tone. Not with the way he chuckled after, like he was mocking you for liking it.

But it did.

You moaned again, choking.

He pulled out—suddenly, cruelly—and you collapsed back onto your knees, coughing and gasping, saliva stringing from your lips to his cock. He grabbed your chin, forced your gaze up.

“You look disgusting.” Another pause. A smirk. “Bet that’s the first time you’ve ever looked honest.”

You whimpered, eyes glassy, and he grinned.

“Wanna prove you’re not just a fucktoy with puppy eyes?”

His cock twitched in his fist as he wiped the head across your spit-slick lips.

“Beg for it.”

You squirmed. It was subtle—at first. Just the faintest shift of your hips, the twitch of your thighs pressing together like your body was trying to keep a secret.

But nothing got past him. Sam tilted his head as he watched you, still holding his cock lazily in one hand, the other curled tight in your hair. His eyes dragged down—slow, clinical—watching the way your knees pressed inward, your breath trembled, your lips stayed parted like they were waiting for something to fill them again.

"Huh."

Then came the question.

Not gentle. Not teasing. Just a cold, curious observation.

“This doing it for you?”

You whimpered. Actually whimpered, heat crawling up your neck.

He didn’t sound surprised. He sounded intrigued. Like he was collecting data. Not because he cared, but because he wanted to understand.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your body moved before your mouth could—trying to dive back down on him, hungry for him, needing the weight back in your throat like it could somehow fill the hole he left behind.

But he didn’t let you. He yanked you back by your hair, hard enough to make your scalp scream, and you winced, gasping.

“Mm-mm,” he murmured, grip like iron.

Then, with slow, calculated efficiency, he toed off his jeans completely—never letting go of your hair. Never breaking eye contact.

Once freed from the denim, he crouched in front of you. Not in a comforting way. In a hunter-lowers-to-eye-level-with-prey kind of way.

His face was close now. His gaze even closer. It pinned you in place, peeled you open. His free hand lifted—palm dragging slowly down your chest, over the rise of your stomach, grazing the hem of your dress. Then underneath.

His fingers found your panties, and paused. His brows lifted just slightly. Something like surprise flickered through his expression.

The fabric was soaked. Slippery. Sodden. Warm.

He pressed two fingers flat against the centre, dragged them down slowly, then back up with a little more pressure. You whimpered, thighs twitching, hips trying to follow his touch. He felt how wet you were. How your body pulsed through the thin cotton like a heartbeat.

He huffed a breath—amused, almost impressed. “Well,” he said softly, voice full of mock-wonder. “Would you look at that.”

Then his fingers slipped past the waistband, straight into the slick mess waiting for him. He gathered it. Dragged two fingers through your folds, slow and indulgent, like he was tasting with his skin.

Then he pulled back, withdrawing with a wet sound that made your cheeks flame. He held his fingers up between you, the mess strung between them in glistening threads. He watched it stretch like silk pulled apart between his fingers. Tilted his head like he was examining something rare.

His voice dropped.

“I’m surprised,” he said. “Didn’t think I’d enjoy seeing you like this.”

A pause. He met your eyes.

“Soaked through. Gagging on my cock. Getting off on the fact that I don’t give a shit whether you start sobbing or not.”

Another beat.

He smirked. “But I gotta say…”

He shoved the two slick fingers into your mouth without warning and you gasped around them, tasted yourself instantly, throat bobbing around an unintentional swallow.

His voice lowered to a growl.

“I really fucking like it.”

You were choking softly around the fingers he’d shoved between your lips, the taste of your own desperation thick on your tongue when he pulled them free with a wet pop and wiped them across your cheek like you weren’t even worth a towel.

He stared down at you—hair falling into his face, chest rising slow, lips curled at one corner like this was all mildly amusing. Like you were a puzzle he wasn’t quite finished solving.

Then, without a word, his hands moved. Fast. Clinical. One in your hair. One at your waist. He hauled you to your feet like you weighed nothing, spun you, and shoved you down onto the bed—not violently, not passionately. Just… functionally.

Like he was moving furniture.

You barely had time to gasp before you were flat on your back, your dress rucked up, your panties shoved aside with the kind of lazy disregard that made you burn with humiliation.

Sam didn’t climb into bed with you. He didn’t kiss you. He just stood beside the mattress, towering over you with his cock level with your face and his fingers already sliding between your thighs again.

This time, there was no curiosity in the touch. Just intent. His fingers plunged into you—two, deep, unceremonious. No warning. No build-up.

You cried out, hips jerking.

He didn’t look at your face. He watched where he was inside you. Watched the way your cunt clenched around his fingers like it was trying to keep him. He pumped them slow. Methodical. Twisting, curling, dragging every slick sound out into the open.

“You’re wetter than I expected,” he muttered, like it was a flaw in his hypothesis. “Didn’t think that pathetic little throat of yours could soak your panties this bad.”

You whimpered.

He finally glanced at you then, eyes flicking up to meet yours. Cold. Curious. Then he smiled.

“Look at you,” he said. “Spit on your chin. Tears on your cheeks. Thighs shaking.”

He drove his fingers in harder. Your back arched.

“You gonna come for me like this?”

You nodded, breathless.

He slowed. Too slow. Torture.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m not sure why I’m even trying.”

Your heart thudded.

His eyes narrowed.

“I’m not doing this to make you feel good. Don’t get that twisted.” Another thrust—sharp. Knuckle-deep. “I’m not your fucking Sammy.”

You sobbed out a moan.

He laughed under his breath.

“I’m only doing this because I don’t fuck dry holes,” he said, like it was an afterthought. “So if you want me to use you properly—”

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping, dark and slick like oil.

“—you better come for me.”

He crooked his fingers. Once. Hard.

You screamed. And Sam just watched you unravel like it was a lab result. Like he was timing it. Measuring the tremble of your thighs. Watching your mouth fall open. Watching your orgasm take you with his fingers inside of you, his voice in your ear, and his cock waiting just inches from your lips.

And when you finally shattered?

He exhaled through his nose.

“Good girl,” he said. Not kind. Just… acknowledging. “Now you’re ready to be ruined.”

Your body was still trembling, slick with sweat and soaked between your legs, when he dragged his fingers out of you—slow, wet, deliberate. You gasped at the emptiness, but he didn’t give you time to mourn it.

Rough hands gripped your hips, flipping you over like it was nothing—like you were nothing but weight to reposition. Your stomach hit the mattress. A soft, helpless whimper left your lips as he dragged you downward, your chest staying flat to the sheets while he pulled your hips to the edge—legs dangling, ass up, thighs slick and shaking.

You felt the heat of him behind you. The unmistakable press of his cock as it slid between your folds—not in. Just through. Gliding. Mocking. Using your soaked, swollen cunt like a sleeve to stroke himself without giving you what you needed.

You whimpered, thighs twitching.

He groaned, low and quiet. Almost surprised.

“Well,” he muttered, dragging himself through your wetness again, letting the head of his cock nudge your clit—just once. “Would’ve been nice to know you were this fucking filthy when I still had a soul.”

You whimpered again, breath catching.

“Then again,” he continued, notching himself just slightly against your entrance, “maybe it’s better this way.”

You started to glance over your shoulder, desperate to see his face—any piece of him, but you didn’t make it. His hand slammed down between your shoulders, pinning your neck to the bed.

“Eyes forward.”

Your breath hitched.

“You don’t look at me,” he said, voice low and cruel in your ear. “You’re not looking at Sam.”

A pause. His grip tightened.

“You’re just something to fuck.”

Then he shoved into you in one brutal, unceremonious thrust.

You screamed. The stretch was sharp, overwhelming—he didn’t give you time to adjust. Didn’t stop. Didn’t ask. He bottomed out with a low grunt, hips flush to your ass, hand still on your neck as you writhed beneath him.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re tight.”

Your body clenched around him instinctively, and he laughed.

“Is this what you wanted?” He taunted, voice thick with smug cruelty. “To get wrecked by someone who doesn’t give a shit if you come or cry?”

He pulled back—just enough to make you gasp—and slammed back in harder.

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

You moaned, clawing at the sheets. His hips slammed forward again, faster this time. Deeper. Brutal. Relentless.

“You wanted Sam to love you,” he snarled. “But you’ll come for me.”

He didn’t stop. Not even when your voice cracked into sobs between moans, not when your thighs quaked with each punishing thrust.

If anything—he sped up.

Not frantic. Not wild. Just relentless. Measured. Deep. Each stroke dragged slow on the way out and slammed hard on the way back in, punching the air from your lungs until all you could do was whimper into the sheets.

Your body gave in before you did—hips rolling back to meet him, cunt sucking him in like it was made for him.

And he laughed. “Fucking knew it,” he grunted. “Knew you’d love this.”

You gasped—somewhere between a sob and a moan. He leaned down, his chest pressing to your back, breath hot against your ear.

“You act like you miss who I was,” he whispered. “But your pussy doesn’t lie.”

You choked on a cry, face burning.

He pulled back and slammed in harder.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say you like it better this way.”

You shook your head, broken and blushing, unable to form a word.

He clicked his tongue.

“You’re lying.” Another deep thrust. “You’re dripping down my cock and you’re lying.”

His hand slid from your neck to your hair again, curling tight, yanking your head back.

“You’re lucky I even want to fuck you at all,” he hissed. “You’re nothing but a hole to me now.”

And yet—his voice was almost pleased. Like your humiliation was arousing. Like watching you betray yourself—watching you come on the cock of the man who didn’t love you anymore—was better than anything he’d gotten from the girls who came before.

You cried out again, right on the edge—your whole body trembling, heat building too fast, too high.

He felt it. Of course he did. And that’s when he flipped you. Fast. Forceful. One hand gripping your thigh, the other wrapped around your ribs as he hauled you onto your back and shoved your legs up, spreading you open like a book.

Your dress bunched around your waist. Your ruined panties still stretched to the side. And he was still inside you. He leaned over you, still moving, still deep, and his eyes—those eyes—locked on yours.

Unblinking. Unholy. Strange.

He watched you drown. Watched you gasp and writhe and lose yourself on his cock, your nails digging into his arms, his chest, your legs shaking against his hips.

And he smiled. Not sweet. Not soft. But smug. Dark. Triumphant.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Eyes all wide. Like you’re scared of what you’re feeling.”

He fucked into you harder. Slower. Dragging it out. Watching it wreck you.

“You’re not scared of me, sweetheart.”

His thumb found your clit, circled once—just once—and you whined.

“You’re scared of how much you like it.”

You were right there. Right there.

He leaned in, lips by your ear, voice a brutal whisper.

“Go on,” he said. “Come for the monster.”

You didn’t even realise how close you were until he pulled out.

You sobbed—actually sobbed—as the fullness left you, your body trembling, on the cusp of climax with nothing to hold onto. Your cunt clenched around emptiness, pulsing helplessly, begging without words.

“Aw,” he drawled, standing between your legs, cock glistening, twitching. “Were you gonna come?”

You nodded, throat raw, tears slipping hot down your cheeks.

“Too bad,” he said.

You whimpered, clutching at the sheets. His hand gripped your jaw, forced your gaze back to his face.

“You’re not allowed to come until you say it,” he said, slow and cruel. “Say who’s doing this to you.”

You shook your head, half in defiance, half in shame. He just smiled, and then slammed back into you. Your scream was shattered. His thrusts were brutal now—targeted. Deep. Fast. Fingers digging into your hips like he was trying to leave a mark behind your bones.

Your orgasm rebuilt fast. Too fast.

He felt it. Saw it in your body, the twitch of your thighs, the flutter of your cunt.

“Close again, aren’t you?” He panted, voice ragged with pleasure and power.

You nodded, eyes rolling back.

“Say it.”

You bit your lip.

He slapped your thigh—sharp.

“Say my fucking name.”

“Sam,” you gasped.

“Not good enough.”

He slowed—hips grinding deep. Cruel.

“Not who I was. Say who I am.”

You cried out, back arching.

He leaned in, mouth at your ear, breath hot and shaking with control.

“Say you want this version,” he hissed. “Say you want me.”

And you did. You did. You choked on a sob as the words spilled out of you:

“I want you. This you. Soulless. Cruel. Please, Sam—”

You came sobbing. It ripped through you—blinding, raw, ruinous. And he laughed—a dark, breathless sound—watching you fall apart under him like you were breaking in real time.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned.

He pulled out suddenly—again.

You gasped, still pulsing, and in seconds he was jerking himself over your stomach, your dress hiked up, your body spent and open and wrecked.

“Take it,” he growled, and with one last grunt, he came. Hot ropes across your belly, your skin, your clothes. Marking you. He stood there a moment, catching his breath, eyes roaming over you like he’d just finished a ritual.

Then—without a word—he turned. Walked into the bathroom. Left you there, gasping, shaking, drenched in the evidence of what you’d let him do. What you’d begged for.

The sheets were twisted beneath you. Your dress ruined. Your legs limp. Your throat raw. And all you could do was stare at the ceiling and ache. Because he wasn’t yours anymore. But you? You were still his.

After, the room fell into silence.

Not peace. Not rest. Just a thick, breathless quiet.

The bathroom light flicked off behind you, and you heard him emerge. Barefoot. Unhurried. You didn’t turn. You didn’t need to. You felt him before he even touched the bed.

The mattress dipped as he sat, then rolled onto his side behind you, his presence a slow, creeping heat. He didn’t reach for you. Didn’t speak. He just watched. Always watched.

Eventually, his voice dripped into the silence like ink in water.

“You regret it?”

You blinked, still facing the wall. Your eyes were dry now, though you could feel the salt left behind on your cheeks. You hesitated—then turned your head to look at him.

He had reclined on his side, propped on an elbow. Hair tousled. Lips still flushed and swollen from the things he made you do. There was a thin red line down his chest, just below his collarbone—a scratch you gave him.

And those eyes.

Still strange. Still wrong. Still the only ones that made you feel seen.

Not loved. Not adored. Seen.

Like every ruined inch of you was visible in them. And maybe that was what you needed all along.

You shook your head. “No.”

He watched you for a moment longer. Then he nodded. Just once. Like that was what he expected. Like that was what you were always going to say. He reached out—not gentle, not soft—and pulled you closer. Just enough for your thigh to slide against his, your cheek brushing his shoulder.

It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t have to.

He didn’t kiss your forehead. Didn’t whisper promises. Didn’t hold you like something to protect. He just kept his hand on your hip. Loose. Possessive. Unspoken. Like he had always known this was coming. And maybe he had.

Because something about you had always ached to be destroyed.

And something about him—this him—had always known how.

@mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah @itshellfire @drakulana @nevercameraready @0ccvltism <3

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yourlocalangeldoll · 3 hours ago

Text

#hornyasfucknowat2inthemorning

medicine ── . ✶ s. winchester

summary: persuading sam to go out to the bar with you was easy, but it's not like he needed much convincing when it came to you.

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem!readerノ wc: 3.3k warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, no use of 'y/n', smut, porn with no plot, feat. sam munchester!, dry humping, oral f&m receiving!, 69ing, finger sucking, protected p in v, riding, praise, aftercare, fluff, loverboy sam!, is titled and loosely based on the unreleased song by harry styles, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own a/n: you guys voted for this, so you shall receive the smut you freaks! jk love you guys and i had so much fun writing this hehe (can you tell i have a thing for his forearms lol). also would highly recommend you guys listen to the song either before or during this fic but enjoy <33 sam winchester masterlist

SAM WAS SO GLAD YOU HAD YOUR OWN ROOM.

He pushed you hard against the door, lips attached to yours as his hands found purchase on your ass. Sam smiled against your lips as you let out a slight squeal at the feeling of him squeezing and massaging your ass through your jeans.

You ran your hands up his chest, leaving one on his shoulder as the other one clutched at the back of his head. Your fingers ran through his silky smooth hair before tugging at the strands. He let out a low groan as his hips involuntarily jerked against you.

You tugged at the strands again, making his lips detach from yours with a small ‘pop,’ a strand of saliva being the only thing connecting the two of you.

You smiled at the slightly dazed look that Sam had on his face. “We should probably get inside. Unless you want to give everyone a free show.” You joked.

“Right, yeah we should.” Sam nodded, seeming to remember the two of you were outside of your room.

Sam let you turn around in his arms, hands resting on your hips—his breath ghosting over your cheeks as his face moved to bury itself in your neck. You could barely open the door, distracted by the soft kisses Sam was placing along the sensitive areas of your neck.

Sam smiled into your neck at the sight of you fumbling with the lock. He was glad that you managed to rope him into coming out with you and Dean tonight. But it’s not like he needed much convincing from you—he always found himself wanting to be around you, and this was no different.

Dean took no time finding someone to chat up and eventually go home with tonight, leaving you and Sam to your own devices. After having a few drinks, he felt loose and relaxed for once. Sam enjoyed being around you and loved that he had your undivided attention. You didn’t drink often, but you enjoyed a cocktail or two when you were out with the brothers after a successful hunt.

You had about two, almost three Dirty Shirleys tonight, the vodka hitting you slightly, but the buzz you were feeling got canceled out with the fries you and Sam had ordered to share. The cherry that was floating at the top of your drink was resting against the ice in your nearly empty drink.

“Can I have that?” Sam asked from beside you, pointing to the cherry in your drink.

“Sure.” You plucked it from your glass and held it out to Sam, thinking he was going to grab it from your hand.

Sam was feeling bold, the alcohol bolstering his confidence. His intense gaze never left your eyes as he ducked his head down and grabbed the cherry from your hand with his mouth—his lips wrapping around your fingertips, drawing the fruit into his mouth.

Your mouth fell open slightly as the tension between the two of you grew exponentially—his eyes fluttered, letting the tartness of the cherry coat his tongue. You couldn’t help how your cunt clenched around nothing as you saw Sam’s jaw move as he chewed on the cherry slowly. You had to look away from Sam, your cheeks filled with heat as a spark of desire ignited in your lower belly.

It didn’t help that the low lighting of the bar seemed to cloak Sam’s sharp features but made his hazel eyes practically glow in the dim lights.

Sam couldn’t help but smirk at your reaction. “You okay?” He ducked down and asked quietly in your ear.

“Yeah.” You cleared your throat, trying to mask the shiver that went down your spine at the low rumble of his voice. “Just peachy.”

Sam chuckled quietly. He rested his hand on your thigh. “Did you want to head back?”

The two of you quickly left after he posed the question, his hand on the small of your back leading you out of the bar. Luckily, the motel the three of you were staying at was within walking distance of the bar, so it didn’t take long for the two of you to make it back.

Once you arrived at your room and before you were going to ask Sam if he wanted a nightcap, his question threw you off completely.

“Can I kiss you?”

You stared at him before quickly replying. “Yes.”

It didn’t take long for Sam to pin you to your door once you got it open, and the two of you made your way inside. Your hands immediately found their place in his hair as his lips moved against yours. You couldn’t help but softly moan at the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours—being able to taste the cherry he had eaten only moments ago with the faint hint of whiskey that he had been sipping on earlier.

Sam swallowed your moan as he kissed you. His hands roamed over your body before finding the back of your thighs. He quickly lifted you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist without any hesitation. Sam walked the two of you to one of the beds in your room before sitting on it with you in his lap.

You couldn’t help but grind against his denim-covered bulge, making him groan against your lips. His hands landed on your hips to aid you in your movement.

Your lips finally detached from his as soft moans left your lips. Sam’s lips found your neck again, biting and sucking at the skin as you continued to grind against him, sparks of pleasure zipping through you as your clit rubbed against your underwear.

Sam’s lips eventually left your neck, and he made quick work of your shirt—almost ripping it from how recklessly he pulled it off of you. You all but clawed at the brown button-up he was wearing. It was unfair how well this color suited him. He had the sleeves rolled up to his forearms—and you were salivating at the sight of them all night.

The two of you stared at each other when your shirts were discarded.

“You’re beautiful.” Sam murmured as his hands traced up and down your back as he gazed up at you, his hazel eyes filled with reverence and desire.

“Could say the same thing about you.” You replied as your hands landed on his broad shoulders.

Sam’s cheeks flushed red at your earnestness. He leaned in and kissed you softly, making your head spin from how different this kiss was compared to the passionate and lust-fueled ones from earlier. You couldn’t help but pour your feelings into this kiss as Sam did the same.

You eventually pulled away from his lips, giggling when his lips chased after yours. Sam couldn’t help but smile at the sound, his heart filling with warmth.

You reached behind you to unclip your bra, letting it fall off your chest and throwing it somewhere behind you. Sam leaned in and kissed your neck, his lips trailing down the soft skin of your chest. A soft moan left your lips as you felt his lips wrap around one of your nipples—the unoccupied breast being held in his other hand, squeezing and kneading at it.

“Fuck Sammy.” Your words came out breathy as your hands tugged at his hair.

A groan came from deep in his chest. His mouth left your breast as his lips landed on yours again. Sam’s hands wandered down your body and to your jeans. His hands were insistent as he tugged at your pants, trying to get them off of you.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at Sam’s impatience. You grabbed his hands, pulling away from his lips.

“Slow down, pretty boy.” You got up from Sam’s lap to shimmy your jeans off, leaving you in your underwear in front of Sam. You resisted the urge to hide away from Sam’s gaze, but he looked at you in awe—his cock jumping at the sight of you.

“Your turn.” You smirked as you walked in between Sam’s open legs and unbuckled his belt as he kicked off his shoes.

He helped you as you unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down along with his boxers, his hard cock springing up from its confines. You tried not to drool at the sight of it. The tip was red and leaking precum—all you wanted to do was taste him. You ran your hands up his thighs, but he caught them before they could make it to their destination.

Sam quickly grabbed you, and in a blink of an eye, you were straddling Sam’s face. His eyes were trained on the damp patch on your underwear caused by your arousal.

“Wait, but I want to suck you off.” You stopped Sam before he could think about burying his tongue in you.

“That can wait.”

You pouted before you smiled in realization. You managed to get Sam’s hands off of your thighs long enough to turn around to face his cock.

“Baby, you don’t have to– oh, shit.” Sam cursed when he felt your warm hand wrap around his dick and started to stroke him slowly.

You couldn’t help but smirk at his reaction before dipping your head down and kissing his weeping tip. Another groan left his lips at the stimulation his cock was getting. Sam remembered that your covered center was right in front of him.

He pulled your underwear to the side. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy, honey.” Sam couldn’t help but praise as he swiped his thumb through your wet slit.

A shiver went through you at the feeling of his fingers on you. “Could say the same thing about your cock.” You managed to say before wrapping your lips around the tip and engulfing it with your warm mouth.

“Fuckk.” Sam moaned out at the feeling of your hot mouth on his cock. “Feels so good baby.”

You hummed around his cock before you started to bob your head, stroking whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

You jumped when you felt Sam’s tongue swipe through your slit, his tongue laving over your cunt before sucking your clit into his mouth. A muffled whine erupted from your lips at the sudden stimulation, and you couldn’t help how your hips chased Sam’s mouth when he pulled away.

“You taste s’good. Been wanting this for a while.” He confessed as he adjusted your underwear to the side again. Sam scowled at the offending garment.

You felt something rip, and you pulled away from Sam’s cock long enough to turn around to see Sam throw your now ruined underwear on the floor.

“Sam! You could have—” You cut yourself off with a moan as Sam buried his face in your pussy, his tongue diving into you, and his hands gripped your hips tight.

Your head fell to his hip as Sam devoured your cunt. The sounds that were coming from your slick cunt and Sam was downright filthy. Your teeth scraped along his skin when you felt his thick fingers fill you as his lips sealed around your sensitive clit, licking and sucking at the bundle of nerves.

A groan left Sam’s plush lips, feeling your teeth sink into his skin. You just barely remembered to keep sucking Sam off. The pleasure you were feeling overrode anything you were trying to do. But you started to stroke his cock again, putting your mouth on him once more.

The coil in your lower belly started to get tighter and tighter as your body grew warmer as Sam ate you out. You could barely focus on getting him off, pulling your mouth off of him and letting the moans and whines escape you as you tried to jerk him off.

“Shit Sammy, I’m gonna cum.” At your words, Sam seemed to double down in his efforts, his fingers hitting that spot that no one has been able to hit before, and he sucked at your clit harder.

You came with a cry, letting go of Sam’s cock to grab at his thigh. Sam let out a hiss of pleasure, feeling your nail bite into his skin, his cock twitching at the sensation. Sam worked you through your orgasm before he slowly pulled away so you didn’t get overstimulated.

Once you calmed down, Sam was able to manipulate your pliant body so you were lying on top of him, face-to-face with him. His chin and lips were covered in your slick, but you didn’t care as you kissed him. The kiss was tender as Sam smiled into it. Sam licked into your mouth, and a low groan left you as you tasted a mix of yourself and Sam on his tongue.

You started to grind against Sam’s hard cock, covering it in your slick, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths at the feeling.

Through the haze of lust that clouded your mind, you managed to remember something. “Condom?” You asked as you pulled away from Sam’s lips.

“In my pants.” Sam gestured to his discarded jeans on the bed.

You nodded. You got up and grabbed Sam's jeans, checking his pockets until you felt the foil packaging of the condom. Once you grabbed it, you checked as you climbed back onto the bed.

You saw Sam trying to get up and reach for it. “Nope, stay there. I wanna ride you.” You sent him a sultry grin.

Sam huffed, but a smile pulled at his lips, and he shook his head. “Fine.”

You tore open the wrapper and quickly rolled the condom onto Sam’s long cock. You straddled him once more and grabbed its base. Lining it up with your entrance, you slowly sunk on top of him.

You practically whimpered at the feeling of Sam’s cock stretching you open. The sting of his thick cock sent sparks of pleasure through you. Sam stared at your face, seeing it twist in desire as you slid his dick inside of you.

Both of you let out matching moans once you had taken him to the hilt. Fuck, you felt so full, his tip just barely pressing against your g-spot. You were already so overwhelmed with the feeling of him but started to move up on his cock before going down just as slowly before starting a rhythm of riding Sam.

There was a familiar burn in your thighs as you rode Sam, making you falter ever so slightly in your pace, and Sam noticed. He moved his hands to your hips.

“Doing so good. You’re such a good girl, taking my cock so well.” Sam praised as he helped you ride him, his hips thrusting up and meeting you as you sank down on him.

The motel room was filled with low praises and groans from Sam, which mixed with your whining and babbling about how good he felt in you. At some point, one of Sam’s hands left your hips to cup one of your cheeks. He started to kiss and bite at your neck as the two of you moved in tandem with one another.

Sam eventually moved from your neck to look at your blissed-out face. As you moved, his thumb slipped into your mouth, and you instinctively started to suck on it like you would his cock.

“Fuck.” His cock twitched as he felt a zip of pleasure down his spine at the sight of you sucking his thumb. “You close? I can feel you clenching around me. Shit, your cunt is so tight baby, love it so much.”

Sam pulled his thumb out of your mouth and replaced it with a bruising kiss as he used his spit-slicked thumb to rub against your clit.

You practically sobbed against his lip. “M’close!”

“Come for me. Let go f’me pretty girl.” Sam pressed harder against your clit, and you crumbled around him with a silent cry.

Sam thrusted up into you twice before burying into your convulsing cunt, biting at your shoulder as he spilled into the condom. Sweat coated both of your bodies as you calmed down from your orgasms. Sam let you rest on top of him as his cock softened in you. But after your breathing went back to normal, you peeled yourself off of him and winced slightly as his dick slipped out of you.

You landed on your stomach with a slight huff escaping your lips. You looked up at Sam as he rested on his elbows, looking down at you. You sent him a smile, which he returned. He leaned down and gave you a tender kiss before getting up from the bed. He took off the condom and tied it up before heading to the bathroom to toss it.

You moved your back as he was in the bathroom. You were resting your eyes, taking in the bliss-filled silence, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm. You heard the water running in the bathroom but thought nothing of it.

Sam eventually made his way back to the main room. “I really hope you didn’t fall asleep on me.”

“Nope, just resting my eyes.” You opened your eyes to look at Sam. He had managed to pull his boxers back on but had a towel in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

You were a little disappointed that he wasn’t naked anymore but still drank in his shirtless torso.

Sam set down the glass of water on the nightstand before he took the towel he wet with warm water and gently cleaned your cunt, being mindful of how sensitive it was. He dotted soft kisses along your bare skin as he wiped you down. After he was done, Sam grabbed the glass of water and brought it up to your lips.

Your chest warmed at Sam’s actions. You drank at least half of the glass, leaving the rest for him to gulp down. When the cup was empty, he sat it back down on the nightstand, and you gave him a kiss, pouring all of your gratitude and affection for Sam into it.

Sam all but melted into the kiss, cupping your face with his free hand before you broke it—resting your forehead against his. You reluctantly moved away from him, knowing you should go to the bathroom before you fell asleep.

You kissed his cheek before standing up from the bed, and your legs shook slightly as you walked towards the bathroom.

Sam tried to stifle a laugh, but a snort escaped him when he saw you trying to walk normally.

You whipped your head around to glare at him. “Shut up! It’s your fault anyway.” You tried to be stern, but you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Sam’s smug grin.

“Sorry.” You damn well knew that he wasn’t sorry at all, but you flipped him off as you turned back around and went to the bathroom. You heard his bright laughter through the bathroom door, making you grin.

Once you were done with the bathroom, you exited the bathroom to see Sam underneath the covers of the other bed, his head whipping over to you and sending you a soft smile. You couldn’t help but return it as you picked up his brown shirt, putting it over your naked body and buttoning it up before you slid in right next to him under the covers.

Sam didn’t say anything about wearing his shirt, but he loved seeing you in his clothes, so he had absolutely no problem with wearing it. He turned off the lamp, sending the room into darkness. Both of you let out contented sighs as the two of you settled in each other’s embraces, legs intertwined with one another and arms wrapped around waists and torsos.

Sleep came easy to you both, finding peace in each other’s arms and something more in either of your hearts.

#ᰔᩚreblog #sam winchester #sam winchester smut

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mostlymarvelgirl · 2 days ago

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⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

H3X3S&H3ARTB3ATS

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Chaos Witch! Reader

Warnings: 18+, mentions of child abuse and neglect, suicidal thoughts, needles, mentions of pornography, kidnapping, mentions of death, mentions of blood and gore, mental illness, mentions of PTSD, corpses, gaslighting, guns, knives, slurs, weapns, alcohol use, violence, smut, angst, blurring of realities, heartbreak, loss of close persons, ritual uses, religious controversies.

୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ

SUMMARY: In a world where celestial beings roam untamed, their presence woven into the fabric of fate, one more should hardly make a difference. And yet, wherever Sam Winchester went, the supernatural followed—drawn to him like moths to a flame, relentless and inescapable. But for all the forces that gravitated toward him, the real question lingered in the air like an unspoken spell—did he ever truly gravitate toward them?

sneak peek...

The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows across the room as you hovered over the worn, leather-bound grimoire. The scent of lavender and rosemary curled in the air, mingling with the faint trace of ozone that always followed your spellwork. Tonight, you were attempting something... experimental.

A love spell. On Sam Winchester.

Have you got color in your cheeks?

You weren’t in love with him, per se. Not really. You just wanted to see if it would work. If someone as relentlessly logical, as frustratingly skeptical as Sam could actually be ensnared by magic. It was, in essence, a test of your own abilities—a harmless little experiment.

With a smirk, you let a single drop of your blood drip into the concoction. The potion shimmered, turned an iridescent shade of violet, and thickened like molten amethyst. The candles around you flickered violently, their flames stretching unnaturally toward the ceiling. A gust of unseen wind coiled around your body, chilling your skin as you whispered the incantation. The words dripped from your lips, ancient syllables curling in the air like smoke. The room trembled, the air charged with raw energy, and you knew—knew—that the spell had taken hold.

And yet… nothing.

'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat

No sudden adoring gaze from across the bunker’s library. No dreamy sighs or poetic confessions. In fact, Sam walked in not ten minutes later, completely unaffected, utterly normal, and annoyingly unaware that you had just attempted to bend the very fabric of fate in your favor.

At first, you chalked it up to bad luck. But then strange things started happening over the next few days.

It was subtle at first—Sam waking up groggier than usual, rubbing his temples like he had a headache he couldn’t shake. He kept pausing mid-sentence, frowning as if he had forgotten what he was about to say. And then there was the way he looked at you—not with love-struck admiration, but with something like suspicion. Like he could feel the edges of something off but couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

He blinked at you one evening, frowning slightly. “Did you—uh—did you do something in here?”

Your stomach dropped. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a weird energy. Feels like… I dunno. Like something’s buzzing, but not quite.” His brows furrowed as he surveyed the candles, the bowl of shimmering liquid, and the open book at your feet. “Wait, is that Latin? What were you casting?”

Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways?

You huffed, quickly slamming the book shut. “Nothing important.”

But over the week, the clues stacked up. The way Dean kept side-eyeing Sam like he was waiting for his brother to say something. The way Sam’s fingers twitched when he was near you, like he was trying to reach for something but stopping himself. The way he started watching you—not in a soft, affectionate way, but with the sharp gaze of a hunter piecing together a case.

Then, on the fifth night, he found your spell remnants tucked away under your bed. The half-melted candle, the parchment stained with your own blood, the last shimmering drops of the failed potion. When you walked into your room, he was already sitting on the edge of your bed, the evidence laid out in front of him like a crime scene.

Sam gave you that look—the one that said he wasn’t buying your crap for a second. He crossed his arms, looming over you in a way that made your heart do something it absolutely shouldn’t be doing. “Tell me you weren’t messing with love magic.”

You scoffed, feigning offense. “Pfft. Please. Like I would waste my time on that.”

His eyes narrowed. “Y/N.”

“…Fine. Maybe.”

“On who?”

Your silence was damning. Sam’s expression shifted, something unreadable flickering across his face. “Wait. On me?”

Sad to see you go, was sorta hoping that you'd stay

“Look,” you said quickly, “I wasn’t trying to force anything, okay? I just wanted to see if it would work on you. Scientific curiosity.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam said dryly, rubbing a hand down his face. “And?”

You exhaled dramatically. “Nothing. Zilch. Nada. You’re apparently immune to my magic. Which is honestly kind of insulting.”

A slow, almost amused smile played on Sam’s lips. He took a step closer, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Huh.”

“Huh, what?”

“Just… interesting that you’d even try.” His voice had taken on a lower, softer timbre, and damn him, he knew exactly what he was doing. “You really think you need magic for that?”

Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do

Your breath caught. The air between you shifted, suddenly charged with something far more potent than any spell you could cast. Sam, still frustratingly unaffected, leaned in just enough to make your pulse spike.

“I—” you started, but the words tangled in your throat.

He smirked. “Didn’t think so.”

And just like that, Sam turned on his heel and walked out, leaving you alone with your useless spell and the mortifying realization that you hadn’t needed it in the first place.

Do you want me crawling back to you?

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

coming soon.....

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ambiguous-avery · 6 hours ago

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Untamed Soul

Dean Winchester x fem!Reader/You x Sam Winchester | WC: 1270

Summary: You’re down bad for two guys who aren’t even yours. Then again... they’re not technically not yours either...

Tags/Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, female masturbation, no wincest, no use of Y/N, pining, PWP (Plot? What plot?), unsatisfying ending, no beta we die like men

A/N: Third piece to complete the trifecta. But clearly I can’t just leave it here. Sorry not sorry, but my brain has decided that there has to be more. Just know that I am a little gremlin behind the screen, rubbing my grubby little hands together because I'm excited about this. Read about Dean’s Sly Grins and Sam’s Careful Stares

The job hadn’t taken nearly as long as you had expected, and for once, the only injury between the three of you was your chipped nail from the damn shovel you had passed Dean so they could dig up the grave. If the case had wrapped up any earlier, then you might’ve thought that you could’ve been enjoying your shower back at the bunker rather than the motel room with the discolored walls. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. And while you weren’t particularly covered in grime, a shower was probably going to be the closest thing you could get to having some time alone.

The problem with having the Winchester brothers as hunting partners was privacy. Specifically the distinct lack of it.

So when the most recent hunt had wrapped up and the three of you weren’t beat up, bloodied, and skulking back to the motel room to lick your wounds, you had happily leapt at the idea of some much-needed ‘you’ time while the boys went out to the bar.

You sighed contentedly, tipping your head back into the spray and reveling in the warmth. The rhythmic sound of the water hitting the tiled floor was a steady background noise as the tension melted away from you. It was a rare luxury to have a moment of peace. A moment to indulge in your thoughts.

The other problem with having the Winchester brothers as hunting partners was your attraction. To both of them.

And being in such close quarters with them for prolonged periods of time was bound to have done some irreparable damage to the way you looked at any other guy ever in your lifetime. Not that you wanted to look at anyone else.

You had two handsome-as-hell men who were each willing to lay down their lives for you. And you’d do the same for either of them. That sort of commitment was hard to find anymore. Well... maybe that level of commitment was a bit too much. But the point still stood.

But they weren’t yours. Never had been. Maybe could be?

It didn’t help that you had a good idea of what they thought of you. The funny thing about boys was that they always thought they were so subtle. But you were a hunter. A damn good one, at that. And very little escaped your keen eye. You could see it in the sly grins Dean would flash you. In the way you’d catch Sam’s careful stares out of the corner of your eye when he thought you weren’t looking. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were a little surprised that neither of them had made a move.

Dean and you flirted plenty, made numerous allusions to actually hooking up but never gone through with it. And the kind of chemistry you shared with Sam was the kind that Hallmark movies could only hope to capture on screen. Really, any way you cut it, the three of you were a symphony, and any sort of change might throw off the harmony you had somehow managed to achieve. Things were better off staying how they were.

But no matter how many times you tried to push those thoughts aside, they always snuck back in, especially in the quiet hours.

You slid your hand down your stomach, fingers tentatively slipping between your legs and imagining that it was a hand far larger than your own. Rough and calloused. With fingers longer than yours. The air in the shower was warm, steam rising from the water turned as hot as you could get it. You could imagine an unsteady breath near your ear.

Imaginary lips pressed against the side of your neck, and your lips parted as you dragged your fingers over your center. It should’ve been alarming how easily thoughts of your hunting partners could consume you. But here in the privacy of the bathroom, it was all too easy to lose yourself in the fantasy. You let out a shaky breath as your fingers danced over your skin, each touch more electrifying than the last.

In your mind, Dean’s strong hands roamed over your body while Sam’s soft voice whispered sweet promises in your ear. Your back arched slightly and you bit your lip, a soft moan escaping you as your fingers ghosted over your clit. You leaned back against the shower wall and propped one leg up on the edge of the tub, heart rate quickening. You could almost feel Dean’s rough stubble against your skin as he kissed you, tasting of whiskey and leather. You imagined Sam’s lips trailing tender kisses down your neck before finding your breast and teasing your nipple between his teeth.

Through the haze of desire, you could hear Dean’s voice, deep and gravelly.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve got you.” It was a promise. A promise you knew you could believe.

“That’s our girl. You can let go for us,” Sam’s voice wrapped you in a sense of safety and security.

You knew without a shadow of a doubt: you belonged with them.

You belonged with Dean, with his rough exterior and kind heart. You belonged with Sam, with his soft words and gentle touch. To Dean and Sam. Would you be too greedy to ask them to share? The universe would truly be cruel if it made you pick just one.

You pressed two fingers into yourself. They were a poor substitute for what you really wanted, but they would have to suffice. Your breath hitched as you pressed them against that soft spot, eyes fluttering shut as you imagined two sets of eyes on you. Hazel and green. Their hands. Their mouths. Their cocks.

Holy shit.

You hadn’t even begun to imagine the way they’d feel inside you. The way they’d move in tandem. Never leaving you fully empty. The thought of them filling you completely. The thrill of it all made your head spin, and those thoughts wound the coil in you tighter and tighter. You could imagine their hands grasping your hips. Your thighs. Wherever they could find purchase to pull you closer. Their mouths devouring you as they took what they wanted from you.

So close...

Sam’s large hands splaying across your back as he presses you down. His blunted nails scraping across your skin as he presses deeper and deeper with each slow thrust.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty like this.”

Right there...

Dean’s green eyes, bright and in awe as he sinks into you in one fluid motion. His lips on you, tasting your skin while you come apart in his hands, around his cock.

“Look at you. Taking us so well, sweetheart.”

Closer–

A heavy knock on the door jolted you from your thoughts, and you nearly slipped as hastily pulled your hand away, startled back into reality. The abruptness of the sound echoed in the small room, shattering the illusion you had weaved in the steam.

“Got a six pack with our names on it, sweetheart!” Dean’s voice rang through the door.

“Fuck!" Your heart pounded in your chest, breaths still heavy, eyes wide from shock. "Give a girl a heart attack, why don’t you?”

“Could give you more than that,” he responded with a mischievous chuckle, and you could clearly visualize the shit-eating grin he wore, even without seeing his face.

“I’ll give you a black eye,” you muttered under your breath, the words tinged with irritation as you dipped back under the water for a quick rinse. The cascade of water washed away the remnants of your interrupted tranquility.

So much for your privacy.

---

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Dean taglist: @aylacavebear @globetrotter28 @bettystonewell @supernotnatural2005 @maddie0101

Both: @jollyhunter @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @voodoochildthings @sir-thisisadndserver

Want to join the taglist? Comment or Ask Away!

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natti-ice · 9 months ago

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Supernatural p links!

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

18+ minors do not interact or click the links! Each link contains porn. All links are from twitter. You must be logged into Twitter for the links to open!

includes: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, and Castiel

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

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— Dean Winchester

Dean cumming all over you after a hunt

getting dicked down in the bathtub

Halloween party with Dean

waking him up for a creampie

losing your anal virginity to Dean

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— Sam Winchester

getting caught watching porn & Sam helps you out

threesome with Sam & Ruby

size kink with big dick!Sam

first time letting Sam fuck you raw

riding his face in Dean’s car

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— Castiel

virgin!Cas finally getting to fuck you

husband!Castiel playing with your pussy before bed

Castiel slurping your pussy after a long day

dom!Cas making you squirt

filming you take his cock for jerk off material

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@procrastination20 @holeforjoel @anglesdiva @maddixsonscave @dina2003 @arrowenchantress @tomorrowseverything @babygirl8900 @luvleykiki @taestrwbrry @iloveyou2mia @where-is-my-reflection @orangebitchsworld @thefailwriter @autistic-gothic @tribulationsandpoetry @darksided5 @prozac-scum @hobby27 @ghoestwalkingg @ryrywrites @screechybeech

#natti’s 18+#dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #castiel x reader #dean winchester smut #sam winchester smut #castiel smut #supernatural #supernatural smut #p links #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel

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lostalioth · 5 months ago

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𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭

→ premise: you in those damn jeans, those stupid jeans that fit you just right. your hips, your waist, your thighs. and god your ass in those jeans nearly had sam drooling. it was shameful he knew it but he couldn’t help it, not when your ass looked so prefect.

→ pairing: sam winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, anal, caught masturbating, switch!sam? [he’s dominating but also jsut whiny and desperate?], nicknames [angel, baby], no lube or prep really for the anal part [i lowkey didn’t wanna write it lmao], not proofread

→ a/n: kinktober 17

It was pathetic, he was pathetic he knew that and yet he just couldn't care at the moment nor help himself. You looked so good he swore it was driving him clinically insane. So good that it was making his genius brain malfunction, and his downstairs ‘brain’ run on overdrive.

He couldn't focus, could barely understand a word the witnesses were saying, it was all going in one ear and out the other. His eyes were just glued on you, on your body, on those stupid perfectly fitting jeans you wore. He felt like a hormonal teenager again, getting all worked up over a dumb pair of tight jeans on a woman. It didn't help that Sam has already been nursing a small crush on you that he’s had sense him and his brother met you.

He had to bail on you and dean in the middle of the interviews, giving the both of you some excuse about not feeling the best and that maybe he needed some extra rest. Though in truth his pants were just getting tighter by the minute and his head getting foggier. He somehow managed to walk himself back to the motel, the short walk doing not a damn thing to clear his head. You in those fucking jeans, those jeans that hug your thighs and your wasit just right, those stupidly tight jeans that made your ass look so fucking bitable it was making him lose his mind.

Even though muffled by his t-shirt pulled up and tucked between his teeth all that filled the quiet dingy motel room were Sams whines they were so loud. He was a mess the second he unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants and boxers down his thighs. His large hand furiously stroking up and down his aching cock, pulling strangled whimpers and cries from his lips. His precum leaking out from his tip acting as lube for his hand to glide along his shaft faster, squeezing it hard as he goes.

He was already so close, it only added to his feeling of being pathetic, he really was a horny teenager now, he couldn't even last that long with his fist around his cock and his head filled with thoughts of you. You on top of him riding him as he whines, you under him your limbs an entangled mess as you pant and moan into his mouth. Him with his head buried between your thighs, you on your knees for him with your mouth stuffed full of his cock, any and all different kinds of images of you all over him. “Need you s’bad, s‘fuckin’ bad holy shit….” He hissed through his teeth in a hushed tone as his head fell back in pleasure, cries of your name and whines about how good you looked fall from his mouth like a waterfall the closer he gets to the edge.

“Hey Sam? Honey? you doing okay?” Your voice shattered the daydream going on in his head that was just about to make him cum. In shock and embarrassment his hand stills, inadvertently edging himself. The nickname only makes his cock twitch more as a short whine comes out of his mouth in response. He was caught and it should be embarrassing, humiliating even, you caught him jerking off in the middle of the day. He should be feeling anything else but what he was right now, It shouldn’t excite him that you caught him. But he was too far gone into a desperate type of head space to care at the moment.

“Oh shit!, i'm sorry i didn't mean to barge in i thought you’d be napping” you babble out, covering your face as heat spreads through your body as you turn around and move like you're about to leave. As you turn sam gets an even better almost 360º view of your body, how the jeans cling to your thighs, the waistband snug around your waist, the denim looks practically painted on your ass, they were so tight.

“Need it s’bad, please i need you s’bad yoou dont have to leave” he whines out, you had already caught him so any composure or decorum he had has been thrown out the window alongside reason. He could be completely ruining your friendship at this moment, you could be disgusted with him and reject him but he was taking that risk cause he was desperate.

Your body as if moving on its own accord, revealing your own hidden desires turns back around to face Sam, slowly taking your hands away from your face. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes scan over his body, his shirt tugged up and stuffed in his mouth exposing his chest, a small trail of hair leading down to where his hand is still wrapped tightly around his cock, a pleading look in his glazed over eyes. Slowly you make your way over to him spread out on the bed, your steps careful as if you were gonna spook him by moving too fast. “What- Uh- what do you need honey?” You question, still a bit confused and extremely nervous. You’d do anything to help Sam, and getting to see him like this all pathetic and desperate was a bonus that was making slick settle in your core and your thighs clench together.

“I need you, want you s’bad” he whines out dropping his shirt from his mouth as he grabs ahold of your hand when you get close enough. Placing your hand on his stiff throbbing cock with his own, you let out a small gasp at the feeling of his warm cock under your touch. “This is what you do to me, you and ya’ fucking stupid tight jeans” he hissed out, letting go of your hand and taking note of the fact you dont move it off his cock he slaps your ass hard with his big hand resting and gropping at it after it comes down.

“These damn jeans that make your ass look so good angel, so good that I couldn't focus, baby. Wanna fuck you s’bad, wanna fuck this ass” he was rambling now looking up at you with his signature puppy eyed look that made you melt. He was so hard it was getting painful, especially since he stopped himself right when he was gonna cum.

He's already thrown caution to the wind by this point, there was no going back.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You gave in.

Willing to do whatever it took to make Sam feel better as well as the fact that all his begging had made you about just as desperate for him. He had you on his lap now, your back pressed against his bare chest. He was quick to strip you of all your clothes, eyes glued to the way he had to practically peel your jeans off your body. Your thighs were spread and laid over his legs that he had bent up, his feet planted flat on the bed.

Your head was spinning from the feeling of his rough hands exploring every inch of your body. Palming at your tits and his thumb flicking your nipples, squeezing your waist when you squirm in his grasp and grind your ass against him. His lips were mouthing and kissing along your neck, tongue poking out to lick up the side and even behind your ear, sucking patches of small hickies onto the unmarked skin. Your body relaxed more and more in his arms as Sam said; “Need you real relaxed for this angel okay? As bad as i want this i don't wanna hurt ya’” you were certainly relaxed once his thumb started rubbing circles over your bundle of nerves, sighing in a mixture of pleasure and relief. You whine softly as your pussy aches, begging for release already as your folds are dripping in slick, a trail of it sliding down your cunt to your ass even.

Lifting his hips his tip nudges at the tight ring of muscle of your ass, his precum that hasn't stopped leaking as well as his spit that coated his cock acted as your only form of lube as he bullies his thick cock inside. With a broken gasp in both pain and pleasure at the new sensation you dig your nails into the flesh of his forearm that was wrapped around your stomach holding you against him. “Sam~ Honey- Fuck!” You blabber out in a string of jumbled together moans, losing track of where you were gonna go with your sentence once his cock pushes all the way inside, your hole sucking his cock inside.

“Atta’ girl, s’good f’me angel. God your ass is so fuckin’ tight” he cries out, he was already still on edge from just his fist but this feeling was gonna send him flying over it faster than he wanted. The pleasure of his cock filing your ass as well as his thumb which hasn't stopped playing with your clit has your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Baby, m’not gonna last long, it's too much” you moan out as his hips buck up and thrust into you, settling at a fast and relentless pace not giving you any more time to get adjusted. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay, j’ cum, just cum for me angel” he nods his head frantically, moans and desperate cries fill the room and you don't know what sounds are coming from who as you clench down on him.

Your body tensing up and your eyes screwing shut as your climax washes over you, a loud wanton moan falling out of your mouth. Worry about the other residents hearing anything long since past, Sam even felt a small ego boost knowing they were hearing you scream out his name. His hips not stopping their hard thrusting, Sam too lost in pleasure with his head buried in your neck as his cock pounds your ass making you see stars as you cum.

“Feel so good angel, holy shit squeezin’ me even tighter as you cum shit~” he groans out, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine as his breath fans across your ear. Your cum leaks out of your pussy, sliding down to Sams cock giving it even more slick for him to fuck up into you harder and faster, chasing his own orgasm.

“Gonna cum angel, but dont think im done with ya’ when i do, need to fuck that pretty pussy too. Been dreamin’ about that sense we met, need to make you all mine” he cries out as he turns your face towards his and crashes his lips against yours, kissing you like a man starved. His moans are muffled into the kiss as well as more whines of your name as he cums hard.

→ a/n: AHHHH last day of kinktober is tomorrow!! Im hoping i get to post the last day on halloween but i might not so if i dont expect it nov

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sleepyangelkami · 4 months ago

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COSTUME s.winchester

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 3.4K

SAM WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 A/N - this is my first ever time writing about sucking dick, please be nice to me, i'll cry.

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - you had to dress up as an FBI agent with the winchester brothers. you felt stupid in a costume but luckily for you, sam really liked seeing you in a skirt.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, dom!sam, sub!reader, oral(s!rec), no p!v sex, size kink, praise kink, fingering, slight manipulation, reader lowk flexible, cum eating, messy sex, squirting, (1) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

"come on, y/n, we gotta go!" you heard dean's not so gentle knock against the bathroom door as you slipped on your last mary jane shoe.

you weren't usually chosen for tasks like this.

usually, it was the winchester boys that did all this kind of thing, you know, fraud? you were usually just the researcher, sitting in the motel room as back up, with a laptop perched on your lap or sitting in baby, the key inside and waiting to be their getaway car.

you weren't really hands on when it came to being a hunter.

you never really had to go out into the real world for much. but this particular demon was snatching girls, twenty something year old girls about your age and appearance. the brothers thought it would be best if another girl accompanied them when investigating the missing girls' roomates and not two six-foot men dressed in suits.

dean's head turned as the creaky bathroom door opened. "I feel stupid."

his eyebrows raised to the tips of his forehead, a look of shock passing over him as he cleared his throat with a breathy laugh. "wait 'til sammy sees you." you just gave him a confused look before grabbing the pretty pink purse that sat on the bed. "aah-ah." you look up at dean confused. "kind of ruins the whole FBI vibe, don't you think?"

you eyed the purse in your hands.

it was a little bag, hardly able to hold anything other than your phone and your lipgloss, not that you ever had to worry about holding your wallet when you had the boys around but nonetheless, a card was wedged in there too.

it was pink with darker pink flowers on it and a ribbon attached to the strap. sam had gotten it for you after a case that you worked particularly hard on.

but dean was right, it didn't fit the whole 'FBI vibe' so you sighed and placed it back on the bed, passing the man an unhappy glance.

sam was outside, sitting in the passenger seat of the infamous impala named 'baby' by dean. he'd packed and started the car, waiting for the two of you when you caught his eye.

or should he say, your outfit.

you often wore pretty little sundresses or blouses and skirts paired together with a pretty cardigan drawn over you. but this? This seemed awfully different to your usual attire.

the white blouse was a little too low for comfort and he could tell by the way you were pulling it up over your cleavage that you agreed. your black pencil skirt was high, too high with a pair of long black stockings that stopped just above your knees paired with the infamous mary janes that you wore with almost everything.

sam was staring.

"what are you wearing?" was the first thing he asked when you and dean got into the car. "what is she wearing?" he turned back to dean.

you owned the stockings and the mary janes before hand but the rest of the outfit? it'd been dean's job to pick it out (which was no wonder you looked like... that.) "dude, she has to play the part."

"yeah of an FBI agent not some sexy stripper cop." sam spoke, exasperated.

"thank you!" you beamed from the back seat before your eyes furrowed. perhaps your boyfriend hadn't been complimenting you at all.

sam passed you a glance through the mirror but was more focused on blaming his brother. how could he let you go out looking like that for everyone to see? how could he make sam watch you while his pants tightened and his bulge was on show?

you thought the interviews went smoothly. you sat down with most of the women. the college women who's roomates had gone missing. dean was too busy fraternizing with the college girls to care about the case anymore and sam... well sam had seemed a little distracted from the beginning.

he couldn't rip his eyes away from you. you sat so perfectly, pieces of hair falling into your face as you nodded and sympathised with the women, asking them questions and jotting down notes onto a little notepad you had found in the backseat of baby.

sam was staring at you, at the way he could see the outline of your boobs down your shirt or the way your plush thighs protruded from the fabric of your stockings.

he was in awe.

it was hard to focus on anything other than you, which is why he had to excuse himself to talk to the headmaster instead of being stuck in a room with you, too close.

he was your boyfriend, it wasn't as if you hadn't done things with him before. on the contrary, you did... many things with sam before. but this was borderline unprofessional, the way he let his thoughts run.

he could imagine sliding his hands beneath your skirt or listening to your little gasps when he touched your skin, barely grazing it. you were so easily led like that, so audible and obedient. he could imagine unbuttoning your shirt slowly, with you sat on his lap while whines fell from your lips, whimpers following shortly after.

he needed to stop thinking.

or better yet, he needed to fuck you until the thoughts stopped.

dean decided he was going to check out the last spot that the college girl had been taken, assuring you both that he wouldn't be back before dinner. but the wink he shot his younger brother told him that he was merely giving you both alone time because he was no stranger to the look in sam's eyes.

and this was when sam got selfish.

honestly, the motel wasn't that far from the college so you and sam opted to walk back. the air turned brisk and for a split second, sam was about to offer you his jacket, the way he always would.

he thought it was rather adorable, watching the way you nuzzled into the jacket that was far too big for your frame. he was six foot five after all, you drowned in anything he let you wear.

but he found himself feeling selfish. he selfishly liked the way your perky breasts looked in that pretty blouse and the way your plush thighs could be seen peeking out from between the skirt and the stockings. he couldn't stop looking, couldn't tear his eyes away and stop his imagination from roaming.

so he let you walk back to the hotel, keeping a slight distance behind you so he could watch your body as he pleased, the only sound between you two being the click-clop of your mary jane heels as you walked home.

when you finally got inside, you felt yourself sigh in thought.

sam had been acting awfully quiet since you'd left and you'd begun to worry that you'd done something to upset him.

perhaps the outfit was too revealing, perhaps he wasn't okay with it.

you turned, an apology already on the tip of your lips. "sam―"

before you could utter the words, sam had grabbed you. his lips pushed into your own, a kiss filled with no passion or love, you could taste nothing aside from thick hunger, half a growl from inside his throat.

you whimpered into the kiss, taken by surprise. you felt him grab at you, one hand slid up your back, the other grabbing the back of your head and a fistful of hair along with it. again, a noise escaped you while sam was mindlessly kicking off his shoes, guiding you towards the bed.

to say you were surprised was saying the least, you hadn't expected this.

when he sat you gently against the bed, he finally broke the kiss. you looked up at him with glassy eyes and swollen lips while he tugged his suit jacket off, not bothering to take off his tie completely but only loosen it so it didn't hang so close to his neck. perhaps now he could finally breathe.

your eyes followed him curiously as he bent down, eyes never leaving yours while you stayed sitting on the mattress. you felt his hands pawing at your legs, slipping your mary janes from your feet. his hands gently rubbed at your sock-covered feet, a little reminder of his gentleness, despite the roughness he was suddenly using on you.

his fingers trailed upwards, following the little sewing thread between the fabric of your stockings. when his hands reached the top, he snapped the fabric back, leaving it snap against your thighs. "you're keeping these on." he uttered, he didn't sound like he normally did. he sounded as if he were pent up, desperate for relief. and he was.

you just couldn't seem to understand why.

"sam, why are you―"

you were cut off. "you're jus' so pretty all dressed up, honey." sam was towering over you as he stood, his large hand falling on your face, practically taking up a whole cheek as he cupped it. "'n i was hard all day thinkin' about this. you do wanna make me feel good, don't you, sweetheart?"

he watched as your eyes seemingly got rounder. "i wanna make you feel good, sammy." you caught your bottom lip between your top teeth and he could tell you were being honest, so honest.

willing to do anything to make him feel good, his sweet sweet girl. he would have cooed at you had he not been busy using his thumb to pull your bottom lip from beneath your top teeth. "don't do that, baby." he watched as you nodded silently. "good girl, i'll give you something to wrap those pretty lips around, don't worry."

he could see your face slowly building a flush, that kind of blush that had him reeling. he liked when he got you like this, all flustered and squirming. which you were, squirming in your seat with your thighs pushing together.

sam was well aware that if he were to reach up your skirt now, he would find a little wet circle sitting on your satin panties.

but instead, he used his hands to pull his own trousers from him. they were sitting tightly on his hips and when he finally pulled them down, you could see his bulge sticking out from his black boxers.

you gulped, hands playing together in your lap. you wanted to look back up at sam but you couldn't seem to tear your eyes away from him, too engrossed by his dick to think of anything else.

"'s how i felt all day, sweetheart." his voice was a whisper now. "you were teasin' me 'n i couldn't do anything about it. do you know how mean that is?"

your eyes snapped up to his, filling with this red glassiness. "w-what?" you didn't want to be mean to sam. he was so good to you, always making you feel good, you wanted nothing more than to be good to him. "'m sorry sammy, 'm really sorry."

"awh, i know, baby." his thumb swiped against your cheek, playing around with your face as if you were dough, thumb dragging across your bottom lip. "you just wanna be my good girl, yeah?"

you nodded quickly. "mmhm, wanna be your good girl, sammy, 'm sorry. 'm really sorry."

"i don't know, you were very bad today." his constant teasing as only making your panties wetter, that tone he was using on you, the one that he knew got you all flustered. "if i give you a second chance, are you gonna be good?"

"uh-huh, 'be so good, sammy, i promise. please, ill be good." you were begging now, eyes as big as saucers and lips wet.

he didn't bother pretending to think about it, he just leaned down, so far that his face was in line with yours, lips against your ear as he softly whispered the words, "then get onto your knee's 'n show me."

when sam winchester told you to do something, you did it, no questions asked.

you'd touched him like this many times before, you on your hands and knees on the mattress while he stood on the ground. he thought it was the most comfortable spot for the both of you, seeing as he was so big.

you did as you were told, moving so you were on your hands and knees against the mattress. your hands moved up to his waist, eyes snapping to his. he watched you intently as you brought your lips to his clothed cock, pressing a pretty kiss against it before using your fingers to pull down his underwear.

you did it without fail every single time.

every time he had you on your knees with his cock in your mouth, you started off with that pretty kiss to his boxers. there was something sickly sweet about it that had his eyes already rolling backwards. it was almost an innocent and naive act of love towards him, laced with lust.

you were on just your knees now, pushing his boxers down with no help from him. his dick sprung free and you could see an idle line of precum dripping down his shaft. instinctively, your hand moved up, thumb swiping the precum and smoothing it over the head of his dick. the act alone caused a grunt to leave his lips.

as pretty as you looked, all curious and ready to take your time, sam simply wasn't having it tonight.

he was too pent up from your silly outfit and his own mindless thoughts that he couldn't help it.

his hand fell to the side of your head, cupping it as he guided it forward. you knew what he was asking and you wasted no time in sticking out your tongue and licking a kitten lick up his shaft.

"fuck," fell from his lips. "good girl." mumbling as your tongue swirled over his head and your mouth wrapped around his dick. sam was a huge man and his dick was no exception to that. he was huge, too big to fit in your mouth but you pushed him in anyway, only covering a little more than half.

sam knew he was big too, he couldn't help the quirk of his lips as he looked down at you, struggling to fit his size into your mouth. his hand slowly guided your head further onto his cock, letting your lips wrap around him completely, your saliva coating him. it wasn't until you gagged that he knew this was as far as you could go.

so he pushed you a little further, anyway.

you brought your head back out then in again, bobbing it as you tongue swirled against him. you were no stranger to sucking sam off but every time you did it, you found yourself getting nervous. you wanted to be good for him and you were doing your upmost best.

his pretty thing.

"fuck, baby, you're doin' so good f'me." and sam knew exactly what effect his words would have on you. "mmph, look so pretty with your lips around my dick, sweetheart."

you couldn't help but moan on his dick.

and his lips quirked into that sickly sweet smile.

he knew how easily you got wet, how all it took was just a few words and you were a moaning, whining mess. sam thought you deserved a little more for all you were giving him than just a little praise.

and like said before, sam was huge so he reached over, his torso towering a little above your head and his arm reached out, soothing down your lower back.

this wasn't the first time sam had pulled something like this. you knew what to do, stomach sinking onto the bed as you rolled your ass into nothingness, wanting to create some kind of friction while your mouth continued to slowly melt around him, licking and sucking, eyes closed as one hand pumped the part of his dick that your mouth couldn't reach.

you felt his fingers tracing the outline of your satin underwear, pulling up your skirt so he could gain access.

you made a noise of complaint, knowing that if he touched you, you wouldn't be able to focus properly on touching him. sam only used his free hand to push your head onto his dick and make you gag again.

he liked watching you fall apart, especially with his dick stuffed in your mouth.

he loved watching the way your body had to bend for him to be able to stick his fingers into your gaping whole, watching as you desperately rolled your hips, wanting him him him. you wanted to feel him. taste him. smell him. he was all consuming, you wanted him to take over your every sense.

and he always did, without complaint.

you were wet, undeniably so, he could feel it through the satin material that he pulled back, getting access to your aching pussy. "there you go, sweetheart, tha's it." while easing two fingers into your hole.

you felt like a slut.

he had you completely and utterly full.

"'s that nice, baby? y'feel so warm." both with your mouth against his dick and your soaking wet hole. "you're so pretty for me, you know that, angel?"

he knew you couldn't respond, only whining and whimpering against his throbbing cock. "you're my good girl, aren't you?" he felt you whine, vibrations spreading through him and he also felt your pussy squeeze against his fingers. he grinned at that. "you like that, honey? like thinkin' about how you're my good girl, yeah? all mine, baby, you're all mine."

and you really were. before sam, you wouldn't look at a boy sideways let alone be like this.

you groaned into him, ass rolling against his fingers while your own free hand moved down. you continued sucking his dick while using your nimble fingers to play with your clit.

and that was enough for sam to let out a moan. "oh, baby, you look so pretty playing with yourself while―shit―sucking my cock."

your eyes rolled back, feeling of pleasure coating you while your soft lips bobbed up and down, fingers tracing him and yourself.

"'m gonna cum, sweetheart." a warning, though he knew you wouldn't move anyway. "you gonna be a good girl 'n cum on my fingers while you suck my cock, huh, baby?"

he felt you absentmindedly nod, too fucked out to think straight while feeling a familiar knot deep in your stomach.

your whines got louder and he felt himself nearing the edge. the sight of you, blissed out while sucking his cock, his fingers stuffed into your hole making you feel all full... he couldn't help but let go.

at the same time, he felt your gummy walls clenching around his fingers, wet juices sliding down his hand while spurts of squirt left your pussy every time his fingers pumped in and out of you, riding out your high.

"good girl, good girl. that's it, baby. oh fuck. yeah, my good girl. there you go." he was in awe, watching you squirt around his fingers, the wet feeling as it spurted out from your pussy, decorating the bedsheets in your juices while your pretty socks got ruined in the mess.

when he finally finished, he pulled his fingers out of you, letting you lean back as you parted your lips to show him his cum all over your tongue, spread messily in your mouth.

his hand was on your face, eyes strained on your mouth as he watched you close your lips and swallow like the good girl you were, swiping his thumb against your bottom lip.

he pushed his two fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself. while your eyes rolled back, all fucked out and dumb.

"think we have some time before dean gets back, yeah?" eyes already scanning your body and letting his imagination get the better of him.

he just watched your blissed out face nod, cheeks flushed. "mmhm hmph."

he wasn't done with you just yet.

main masterlist/sam's masterlist

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester one shot #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x reader fluff #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester x reader angst #sam winchester x reader comfort #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester angst #sam winchester smut #sam winchester comfort #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural x y/n #supernatural drabble #sleepyangelkami

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samsblades · 4 months ago

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✶ . ၄၃ . soft 'n sleepy — sam winchester

cw : gn!afab!reader, fluffy smut, consensual somnophilia, dry humping, finger sucking, praise, so super sweet sam, swearing, praise, aftercare, pet names (angel, honey, baby), unedited, 1.3K words. requested ! MDNI !!! 18+ ONLY

summary : it doesn't take you long to fall asleep after a long hunt. sam, however, can't seem to fall asleep or keep his hands dick to himself.

you're so pretty and soft every time you fall asleep in his arms. sam just loves it when you're sleepy, eyes bleary and fluttering closed, lips parting and little puffs of breath leaving your nose as he tucks you against his chest.

this hunt was draining, especially for you, and you fall asleep quickly now that it's over. sometimes, all he needs to follow right after you is your presence. having you close is so reassuring, comforting. but tonight, it’s not nightmares or guilt that he’s worried about disrupting his sleep. instead, it’s your closeness that keeps him awake.

your thighs against his, the little shift of your hips that pushes your ass right into his crotch. your soft, even breathing, and your limp fingers splayed across his wrist. he’s been aching for you, but hasn’t said a thing, knowing how tired you are.

and he’d feel guilty about the growing bulge in his pants as he thinks about your pretty chest under the loose fabric of your comfy shirt, the grey panties you fell asleep in, your bare thighs. but you’ve told him, most definitely more than once, that you like the idea of him getting off in bed with you while you’re asleep. you’d used the words “you can use me like that. it’s okay, i promise.” he replays the sound of your pretty voice saying it, sincere and flirty all at once, and he just gets harder. “i want it,” you’d said. you want him to use you like that.

so he really just can’t resist gently tugging you closer, pulling your ass flush against him, and wrapping his other arm around you to softly cup your chest over your shirt. he gives a roll of his hips into you and bites back a quiet groan. and with that, he’s a goner.

you had the sense to get a separate room from dean when arriving at the motel, so as sam gets needier and needier, slowly rocking his hips into you, he doesn’t bother silencing his quickening breath and soft moans. he only keeps his sounds quiet for your sake, though he’s sure you’ll wake eventually.

his hand slides down from your hips, under your shirt, past the sensitive skin of your lower belly, and right over your thinly clothed pussy. he can’t help it, he just loves to hold you there, his hand hot and heavy as he cups your pretty cunt. he groans softly at the feeling, pressing into you with both his hand and hips now.

you stir, just a bit, letting out a little huff of breath through your mouth that just makes him grind against your ass with more desperation. and when a sweet, gravelly moan leaves your lips, he can’t help but indulge himself. the hand that was so softly palming your chest moves upwards, fingertips brushing over your collarbone until he has a gentle grip on your chin. with your lips parted just enough, he’s able to push his finger past your teeth and into the warm wet of your mouth.

he feels your tongue instinctively push against the intrusion and you draw in a deep breath through your nose as you start to rouse. his other hand starts to rub soft circles against the fabric of your panties and despite how painfully hard and turned on he is, even the rocking of his hips against you is gentle, caring, and slow.

a quiet, throaty groan falls from his lips and right into your ear as he feels your lips wrap around his finger, followed by your sweet, sleepy suckling, signaling that you’ve woken and immediately accepted his filthy actions. with your mind still so foggy with sleep, you don’t seem to have much control over your body. your hips squirm tiredly, pushing back into him, and the way that you suck on his finger is unabashed and interrupts the stillness of the room with wet, sloppy sounds. in mere seconds, there’s saliva dripping down his fingers and past the corners of your mouth.

despite your wordless enthusiasm, and the way that his clothed dick pushing into the plush of your ass makes him practically whimper into your ear, sam pauses his desperate movements against you for just a moment.

“this okay, baby?” he whispers sweetly, gruffly because he’s holding back. one of your clumsy hands finds his wrist, wrapping around it in reassurance.

“mhmm,” you hum around his finger, too sleepy to do much else, but wanting him to know that this is more than okay.

“good,” he huffs out, his hips rolling against yours with more urgency now, voice thick with barely contained desperation. “you’re so good. so good for me, aren’t you, angel? so perfect and pretty, letting me– mmph, use ya while you’re still sleeping. always so– god, so fuckin’ good for me.”

his hand rubbing against your pussy, his fingertips pressing over your clit, are making you just as desperate as him, and the feeling of him pushing a second finger into your mouth only intensifies the pleasure. you suck on his fingers contentedly, and the both of you leak through your underwear enough for the other to feel it.

along with the quiet drip from the janky sink in the bathroom and rush of a shitty window air conditioning unit, the room fills with soft grunts and whines and moans, the rustle of overused blankets, sam’s praises, and your sweet suckling. sam cums first, soaking his boxers and the back of your panties. the sound of his broken moan in your ear and the insistence of his fingers over your covered clit sends you reeling in pleasure just moments after.

he lets you keep lapping at his fingers as you come down from it, knowing the feeling quiets your mind. he’s positive that you’d fall right back asleep with his fingers in your mouth if he didn’t insist on cleaning you up first. so even though it makes you whine tiredly, he slowly slips his fingers out and gently pulls you around to face him.

his reverent lips find your forehead first, then your own spit-slick mouth. he kisses you all chaste and lovely, as if to apologize for waking you, despite it being so good for you too. the kiss is enough to satisfy you after having his fingers pulled away from your eager mouth, so you snuggle up close to him, not resisting the pull of sleep as it tugs down your heavy eyelids.

“honey,” he murmurs into the skin of your forehead, “let me clean you up first, please. then you can sleep as long as you want, promise.” you just give him a sleepy hum, but he rolls with it, untangling himself from you. he strips himself of his dirtied boxers, quickly pulling on a new pair before he pulls the blankets away from your legs.

he slips your own soaked underwear off, watching your face, barely lit from whatever light seeps in through the blinds of the window by the door. your eyes are barely open, just because you want to watch him, and a soft smile tugs at your lips from his ever present sweetness and care. his heart jumps at the sight, so he covers your bare legs back to avoid giving you goosebumps from the cold, and slips away for a moment. not before leaving a kiss to the skin of your calf.

just moments later, he crawls back into the bed with a warm, dampened washcloth to deal with all the stickiness and a spare shirt because he admittedly got the back of your sleep shirt wet too. he cleans the mess on your skin first, then urges you to sit up just a bit with gentle hands and a tone of voice he know you won’t be able to resist.

“arms up,” he mumbles as he pulls the shirt off for you, then replaces it with one of his own soft, worn t-shirts. then he tucks you back into his chest and under the blankets, fighting off the sleep that was previously evading him until he feels you fall asleep first. then he sleeps like a damn rock and is woken in the morning by your lips on his neck.

#sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #supernatural smut #sam winchester x gn!reader #supernatural #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester suggestive #sam winchester x you #sam winchester #sam winchester drabble #supernatural headcanon #sam winchester supernatural #sam winchester headcanon #supernatural suggestive #spn sam winchester #sam winchester fluff

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samwinchestrrrslvt · 21 days ago

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supernatural twitter p links!

you must be logged into twitter (x) for these to work! minors dni. req, open!

links below are all 18+! pls do not open them in public, or if you are a minor.

includes links for: cas, dean, and sam x reader (all seperate obvs)

CASTIEL - atleast he had his angel blade...right?

(creampie)

CASTIEL - he learned that from the pizza man

(spanking, pussy play)

CASTIEL - he just loves playing with your pretty pussy :(

(fingering, pussy play)

CASTIEL - he adores your tits

(boob play)

CASTIEL - what cas would send you when he's needy for your pussy

DEAN WINCHESTER - fingering you while he drives baby for being too bratty

DEAN WINCHESTER - he loves it when you ride him so needily

DEAN WINCHESTER - fucking you in the shower after a hunt

DEAN WINCHESTER - how he fucks you when your both finally alone after hours of bickering

(rough)

DEAN WINCHESTER - fucking you in the impala

(rough)

DEAN WINCHESTER riding his face is the only way to get him to shut up

SAM WINCHESTER- lazy morning sex with sam

SAM WINCHESTER - he loves fucking you and then kissing you all over

SAM WINCHESTER - research always gets interrupted when he puts on those glasses he hardly wears

SAM WINCHESTER - he's so big he can easily pick you up to fuck you!

(size kink)

SAM WINCHESTER - soulless! sam loves seeing how tiny you are beneath him, especially with your hands bound behind your back

(size kink, tied up)

SAM WINCHESTER - gentle naughty morning touching and kissing with sam!

SAM WINCHESTER - he loves seeing you squirm when he fingers you rough for all that teasing

(rough)

------------------------------------------------------

if these links don't work then its because twitter has taken them down, just comment and I'll try to replace them whenever!

requests are open <3

#sam winchester smut #supernatural smut #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #castiel smut #supernatural #spn smut #twitter links #p links #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader

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samsmissingshoee · 6 months ago

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ANGEL — SAM WINCHESTER.

SUMMARY — sam starts to grow fond of an angel. they have grown more comfortable around each other, and tensions run high when dean leaves for a bar.

WARNINGS — no plot all porn... 18+, softdom!sam, unprotected sex, p in v, oral, f!receiving, unexperienced!reader, angel!reader, LOTS of praise, biting, creampie, mentions of religion, sam's a sweetheart. he's also a freak.

WC — 4.3k. i got carried away.

A/N — i feel like i'm going to hell just from the warnings alone. i erm. i don't even know. shout out the two people who asked to get tagged in this 🙏 first ever smut fic, if you hate i'll probably delete my account. i am not editing 4.3k words btw. i'm lazy.

angels weren't supposed to enjoy the feeling of a human. that much was well known.

and when you came from heaven to assist castiel in whatever the hell it was that he was doing, that was repeated to you over and over again. these 'humans', they weren't important. your only job was to make sure sam winchester didn't get hurt. that was all this was supposed to be. a casual round of protecting the winchesters.

you didn't understand human norms, and at first, sam didn't like you. you didn't take personally, of course, because, well, sam hated any angel at first. castiel quickly explained to you about the brother's and how you'd be spending more time with them while he awaited directions. honestly, you couldn't care less about either of the brothers, too. they were hunters, and you were an angel. you weren't supposed to mix anyway.

sam winchester was more interesting than his older and shorter brother, though. sam was thoughtful and a lot more curious about you than he let on at first. as you spent more time 'watching' over him, you realized he enjoyed asking you questions about heaven, and the angels, and about castiel. and you tried to answer them to the best of your ability.

sam was more open to learning about you than dean, and he was more considerate when it came to teaching you knew things. slowly, he started defending you against dean's antics, and he learned about how curious you were, too.

he spent many late nights awake with you, struggling with his insomnia. you made it much more enjoyable. on the off chance that he did get some sleep, he'd wake up to you in the bunker, lounging and reading one of his books. as soon as you saw him awake, you'd pounce on him, eager to talk all about it.

sam found you endearing in the same way you found him intriguing. you both taught each other different things. he taught you about different emotions and how to communicate them to him. he showed you his favorite movies. he told you about his time in standford and about how he was studying law. you taught him about the bible, about praying and how you'd always come if he prayed for you. you taught him about heaven and hell, and angels and everything in between.

eventually, you two become friends, as much as younger sam would have hated to admit that. he showed you what friendship was and what it was like to worry about someone more than yourself. he explained to you what love was and about heartbreak. sam watched as you turned from this unemotional, blunt angel into a person, crafted by the things you loved.

you two kissed about six months after hunting with him. you were unexerienced, and painfully so, and your first kiss was nothing but giggles and awkward stares. the second, third, and fourth ones weren't any better. sam was ridiculously dotting and patient, and even though you were an angel and didn't understand what a relationship was, you still tried for him, and he loved you for it.

after a week of sneaky kisses and rushing into each other's rooms once dean fell asleep, you seemed to have gotten the hang of it. you and sam hadn't done anything remotely sexual other than a few hands-under-the-bra's and one /bad/ attempt at a handjob. sam was enthralled in watching you become more confident and learning how to touch him the way that he liked and how to kiss him properly. so he didn't mind taking things slow.

you two agreed to not have sex yet, partially because to you, it was a sin, and partially because you didn't know what you were doing. sam had no issue waiting. that was, until tonight.

you don't even remember how this happened, honestly — the lingering touches became more frequent, more needy, and at some point, sam had slipped you out of your shirt and bra. you'd barely even made it to his room /thank god for dean being out at a bar tonight/, before he was kissing you, his lips hiding something more intense tonight.

you wouldn't have protested anyways, but as soon as your shirt was gone, sam was all over you.

"i know it feels dirty, honey. but it's not. i wouldn't lie to you." sam hums against your throat, kissing the soft skin. when he talks like that, all low and soothing, you might just believe anything he says. he pulls back to look at your concerned expression, and his smile softens.

his movement stills, and you frown, almost wishing sam would convince you to do more. that feeling in your stomach, the one that felt close to nausea, started to feel nice. and you craved more of it. you craved more of sam.

although his desire outweighed his guilt for ruining the purity of an angel like this, sam still sat up for a moment, his hazel eyes practically begging you. he was nothing, if not a gentleman. "do you want this?" sam asks, hushed and spoken like a prayer, and you think you might get sent to hell just from how he's looking at you.

sam's hair is a ruffled mess, and his long sleeve black shirt was rolled up to his elbows. his carhartt jacket had long been discarded by you, tossed somewhere into the dark abyss that was the dingy, horribly lit motel room. he looks beautiful.

"i do, sammy, but—" you breathe out shakily. before you can finish answering, his hands are on your hips, tugging you closer to him. you're both standing up, his large hands moving up your skirt to trail up your sides. sam can feel your back arch against his hands slightly, and it's taking everything in him to not lose his resolve.

san, who previously said he was okay with waiting, felt like a selfish man tonight. he could honestly care less about your innocence right now. what he did care about was you, though. sam knew that if you wanted him to continue, he wouldn't be able to stop.

"but what?" sam mumbled, his fingertips digging against your hips. his erection was pressed dangerously against your thigh. he shifted you until you were pressed against him — he knew what he was doing and the effect it was having on you. you didn't answer and could only grumble a complaint out.

"just needa taste you, honey. we don't have to go all the way if you don't want to." sam's words are a contradiction to how he was staring at you. "although, i have thought about doing more." he hums, and he has a slight shit eating grin on his face. it's sort of surprising that this is your sweet sammy.

you're conflicted— this is wrong. sinful. but there was a bubbling heat in your stomach, and you wanted nothing more than to make sam feel good. maybe a part of being human was indulging in your sins. you pout at him slightly, and sam has to stop himself from moving his hips up against you. he doesn't just want this, he needs this. he needs to corrupt you, to ruin your innocence until all you can think about is him.

"fine. be gentle, though, sam. i mean it." you relent, although you didn't need much convincing. honestly, if he tried to pull off of you, you'd be the one begging him to touch you and not the other way around.

"oh, fuck—" sam groans, and he almost instantly falls to his knees. his hands are tugging off your jeans faster than you can process. "you don't know how long i've wanted this." his tone makes you feel dirty, and you can't help when your brows crumple into a slight glare. you didn't know what he was doing, but you wanted him to hurry it up.

you help him kick your jeans off around your ankles and step out of them. you're left in your cotton panties, and for some reason, it turns sam on more to know you weren't planning for this. honestly, neither was he.

"leave these on." two fingers slip underneath the elastic by your thigh, tugging them and letting them go, the fabric snapping against your skin. the action makes you suck in a breath. sam's lips make their way to your upper thighs, sucking and kissing at the sensitive skin. it's not enough, and he knows that. he's driving you crazy on purpose to see you squirm for him.

"sam—" you chastise, like a scold, your hand running through his hair and tugging on it gently, trying to bring your hips closer to him. sam fucking moans. he moans at getting his hair pulled, and it makes your brows crease in bewilderment. /you would definitely be keeping that in mind./

sam looks up at you with those same puppydog eyes, and you swear you're going to burst into literal flames and have your wings removed instantly. "needa taste my girl's pussy. y'gonna let me?" sam says softly, his voice muffled by your thigh, gently biting on a spot. when you whimper, he pulls back to kiss at the forming bruise, his hands massaging at the fat of your ass.

truth be told, you'd probably let him fold into a pretzel at this point, but you didn't want to stroke his massive ego.

the noise you make is answer enough, and sam deftly pulls your panties to the side. his hand brings yours to hold them. he needs *both* hands for devouring you. sam's two middle fingers move to collect your slick from your folds, and you shiver. his brows raise, and he smiles again. "you're soaked, baby. you really want me that bad?" he asks, and you're nodding quickly.

sam can't hold back when you look this pretty above him. you can feel his breath against you. even just looking at you bare in front of him is enough to make him want to cum in his fucking jeans.

he flattens his tongue against you, and your hips stutter against his mouth. you've never felt anything like this before. you can feel sam's grin against your cunt, his hands cupping into your ass and pulling your hips further into his mouth.

seeing such a large man, especially one like sam, at his knees, lapping at your pussy like a fucking starved man— it makes your head fuzzy.

without warning, his middle finger slips into you. your hands move to his hair to steady yourself, massaging at the brown strands, pushing some from off his sticky forehead. the concentration on his face is almost cute, but it soon becomes too hard to keep your eyes open.

another finger slips past your folds, and you're mouthing his name like a prayer. his fingers are rocking into you at a slow speed, but his mouth— it was fucking dirty, the way he'd suck on your clit, only pulling away to breathe. everytime he pulled away, a string of saliva followed, connected between you two. his chin was slick with your arousal, his chest panting with heavy breaths. and then he was right back to devouring you.

maybe sam winchester was the devil.

your hands tug on his hair slightly, and sam groans against you. the heat in your stomach was building and sam was near drunk on your pussy. when he looked up at you with those hazel eyes, you moaned, your thighs tremoring.

"sam— sam, it feels too good... please—" you breathed out, panting too now, and sam didn't relent, no matter how hard you were tugging at his hair. his hand was holding your hip hard not daring to let you squirm away from him. indents of his fingertips would ruin your pretty skin by the morning. you had to shy away from his intense gaze.

sam pulled away, still fucking his fingers into you. "eyes on me, baby." he mumbled, before sinking flush against your clit again. you listened, although your face was an embarrassing hue of pink. sam was just as loud and needy, if not worse than you. everytime your thighs clenched around him, or you tugged on his hair, profanities and groans slipped from his lips. he needed you.

sam kept his tongue latched onto you, his eyes showing that he was as desperate as you were to make you cum. the noises he was making were filth, soft grunts and groans, all muffled by your puffy pussy. when your eyes flickered down, you noticed that one of his hands were palming himself through his jeans.

with every shake and spasm, it was like sam knew you were close. he was using his hands to rock your hips more onto his tongue, your weight practically suffocating him. sam would gladly die a happy man in between your folds, if it meant getting to look up at your beautiful face contorting in pleasure. his chest swells at the fact that he is the one who gets to touch you like this.

that feeling returned as quickly as it left, and soon you were cumming on his face, your legs shaking as he kept his fingers curled into your folds. that was probably the best thing you'd felt since coming to earth. sam pressed a kiss to your overstimulated clit, before kissing up your stomach, your breasts, collarbone, and finally standing to his full height over you.

"how was that?" sam asks, licking the wetness off his fingers. as much as he wanted to ruin you, he also wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

heavy pants still wracked both of your bodies, your thighs aching and barely able to hold your own weight. he had the audacity to ask that after making you feel things you hadn't felt in your centuries alive? in between deep breaths, you shot him a slight glare.

"what do you think?" you tutted, puffing his lips out in that gorgeous pout that made sam was to kiss you stupid, holding onto his biceps so you didn't lose balance.

sam grins in response, his hands moving to your bare hips, pressing you into him. his cock was fucking painfully hard and he had to refrain from rutting against you. "i need to fuck you, honey." fuck sam and his beautiful eyes, pleading at you. his hand leads your to palm him from over his jeans, and he moans softly, so prettily.

you were conflicted. you knew his cock would feel so much better than his fingers, but this was wrong. "sammy—" you say in the same chastising voice that drives him insane.

"please, let me fuck you. need to feel you around my dick. fuck, doesn't even have to be all the way." sam pleads, and you have a hard time saying no to that. he was practically begging you. you sigh at how weak you were for this man. "please fuck me, sam."

sam eyes widen slightly, and he can't help his grin as he pushes you back against the bed. his eyes stay on you as he pulls his shirt off, discarding it across the motel floor along with all of yours. you can't help but stare at him. all tanned, scarred, and bruised, despite being young. it was so different compared to your imperfect skin, free of any blemishes or let alone scars.

sam's tantalizingly slow as he takes off his belt, followed by his jeans. he's fucking huge. that much you can tell by his bulge alone. your eyes widen slightly when he strips his boxers off.

he wanted to take his time with you, to treat you like the goddamn angel you were, to wrack every noise he can from your lips. but, sam was impatient as hell. and he was really, really hard.

"you're beautiful." sam coos, caging you in between his much larger frame. there is a shine in his gaze, so soft and loving, that it almost makes you feel queasy. he's not doing this because he's bored or because he wants to get off. sam's doing this because you're his world.

"you're alright." you respond, not able to hold back the giggle that escaped your lips afterward, especially when you felt sam's annoyed sigh against the crook of your neck. you can feel his irritated grin. sam fell in love with that devilish laugh of yours, and he found it endearing that even during this, he could make you sound like that.

it was such a sharp contrast from how emotionless and... awkward— you first were when you met the winchester brothers. sam has loved watching you adapt this sassy personality, loved eyeing you while you admire new things, hearing the way your voice heightened whenever you laughed, the way you took over parts of his and dean's own quirks and personalities.

"just alright? you wound me, angel."

this time, you rolled your eyes. you turn your head to the side to press your lips against the mole below his right eye. "you're beautiful too, sammy. you already know that." you huff out, your tone unmistakably soft. sam scoffed, nipping at her neck slightly. it was nice to hear that from you, regardless of what he thought about himself.

unfortunately for you, the compliment rushes to sam's head. he sits up slightly, his cock pressed against your lower stomach, a hand brushing over your cheek, moving your fanned hair out of your face. "are you sure you're okay with this? we can stop— i'll put on a movie, and we can forget—"

you interrupt sam's worries by pressing a kiss to his palm. "yes sam, i'm sure. please." and that small act of intimacy followed by your voice pleading for him was enough reassurance for sam. no need to tell him twice.

sam pumps himself a few times, his eyes not once leaving yours. "scoot your hips up for me, honey." you oblige, and you can feel his cock pressed against your clothed entrance. the sight leaves nothing for the imagination and sam sighs as his fingers pulls your panties down to your ankles.

sam looks like he's in fucking heaven, his lips parted and staring at you bare in front of him. his thumb habitually moves to your clit, rubbing soft circles against it just to watch you squirm under him.

"sam, quit being a damn tease." you frown and wiggle your hips into his more. his gaze is making you shy, something you didn't know was even possible as an angel.

"innocent angel, my ass." sam mumbles under his breath, but he obliges, lining up his cock to you. he collects your slick with his tip, dragging the wetness over your already overstimulated clit. sam rubs it against your folds a few times, before pressing only about halfway in. the moan that leaves your lips is heavenly, so much so that sam's head has to fall to your shoulder and bites it softly so he doesn't cum too fast like a damn high schooler.

"you're so fucking tight, shit—" sam groans and it's so dirty coming from him. he's usually so sweet to you, so hearing this is different. and arousing. but different. you'd expect this talk out of dean, not sam.

sam really wished he would've slept around a little more in college now because it was taking far too much concentration to not finish already.

"need to fuck you, baby. please." sam all but whimpers out. all of your beliefs, your nightly prayers, all of it was gone the second you felt him inside of you. you can only nod in response, your hands tugging at his waist to come closer to you.

sam stills, looking at you for a moment like he can't believe you want this. and slowly, he pushes in all the way, and you both share a pornographic moan.

sam is quiet as he lets you adjust to his size. he wasn't one to toot his own horn, but he was pretty big. and even though your vessel wasn't a virgin, mentally, you still were. sam had a mantra of things going through his head — the main ones being: please don't cum, please don't cum, please don't cum. don't say i love you. don't move too fast yet. let her adjust.

sam leans down to kiss your forehead. "good?" he hums.

you nod again. "hurts a little." and sam is nothing but patient, kissing each of your temples before brushing your hair away.

"i promise you're doing so good. it's gonna hurt for a moment. it'll feel better soon. just relax." sam murmured against your shoulder, his lips sighing down towards your collarbone. "gonna move now, sweet girl." calloused palms are pressing your thighs to your chest. he leans down enough so you can hold on to his shoulders if you need.

with one hand still on the back of your leg, and the other one cupping one of your breasts, he pulls out almost all the way before rocking in slowly. your eyes screwing shut from pleasure is enough to test the waters with a more heavy thrust. "that's it, baby. look at you—" sam groans, his fingertips digging into your skin. his eyes were glued to where his cock was entering you rhythmically, and god, he could get addicted to that sight. sam could fucking see where the tip of his cock was pressing into your belly. his palm moved over it, adding slight pressure to your lower pelvis. the feeling made him groan out your name softly. he was just as loud as you were. "so beautiful."

part of you wanted sam to shut up so you could focus on the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, but the other half of you enjoyed the flithy words leaving his flushed lips.

"oh, fuck. sammy, 's too much—" you whimpered out, your hand squeezing his biceps. your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him closer, the balls of your heels digging against his ass. sam think he likes that you're not very vocal. it makes every beg, every moan that much more special to him. he was the only one who got to see his angel falling apart like this.

everything about sam is fucking massive, from his height, to his sheer size difference over you. it shouldn't have been shocking that his dick was huge too, but you felt it now. you felt every single inch, stretching you out, your arousal slipping down his shaft. sam's thrusts grew more feverish, his shaggy brown bangs falling into his face as his head fell forward slightly. "i know you can handle it baby." he grunted in response to your plea, hazel eyes fucked out with lust.

that feeling in your lower belly returned, and now, at least, you know what it meant. it was overwhelming, but not enough for you. your hand reached for sam's hand, guiding it to you clit. sam thought that was the hottest thing he'd ever fucking seen, and shuddered slightly. "you wanna cum around my cock? is that it, sweetheart?" sam asks, a small, contemplating smile on his lips.

you're writhing under his cock, your back arching off the bed, his thumb rubbing soft circles around your nub. you tap his bicep in warning of your approaching orgasm, but he doesn't stop. he doesn't slow down either. in fact, he ruts his hips faster. the feeling of you clenching around his dick is enough to send him over the edge, too. he's biting down hard on his cheek to stop himself from cumming before you. he wants, needs to see you cum first, before he can.

your face contorts into pleasure, and you cum hard, sam still fucking you through your orgasm. he groans and his eyes close when he watches you making a mess all over him. "thaaat's it. that's my girl." he encourages, the feeling of your walls clenching around him tipping him over the edge. "fuck. gonna fill you up." he grunts against your shoulder, his hips stuttering slightly and you moan as you feel his cock twitch inside you, before you feel cum spurt into your cunt.

sam pulls out a moment after, his eyes blown out when he watches his spend leak from your pulsating hole. he uses two fingers to spread it around over your folds. once he's satisfied with his handiwork, he slumps down into the bed next to you.

you're still a panting, sighing mess. you feel your legs twitch occasionally, and you're finally coming to your senses. you were just fucked stupid by your best friend. a human.

"jesus, sam. is this really what humans are doing?" you ask, out of genuine curiosity, and sam pinches your side with a slight laugh. he looks spent, almost as bad as you. his head falls to your shoulder, pressing his lips to the soft skin present.

"the lucky ones, yeah." sam huffs in amusement. "you're okay, right? i didn't hurt you, or pressure you or anything?" his voice is a little persistent, worried, already overthinking like he wasn't just inside of you.

"'course not. that was amazing. i think i'd go to hell if it meant having sex everyday— i see why castiel was encouraging me into trying this." you tilt your head to the side, and sam raises an eyebrow. he didn't even dare ask what odd things castiel told you about. nor did he want to know. he couldn't see castiel doing anyone without scaring them away with his bluntness first.

sam chooses to ignore that, leaning over to pepper kisses onto your cheeks, nose, and forehead. anywhere you'll let him at this point. "you did amazing. absolutely drained me. y'sure you haven't done that before?" he teases, and you roll your eyes at him. your eyes watched him with concern when sam stood.

"alright, crazy girl. let's get you cleaned up."

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