content warnings: established relationship, sam x reader, sex in the impala, mutual masturbation, pinv sex
wc: 2.7k
a/n: taking requests
_
“Still- he’ll know.”
Ignoring Sam’s objection, you maneuver yourself onto his lap. He’s positioned as comfortably as someone of his size can be, cramped in the backseat of the Impala. The massive expanse of his back rests against the rear passenger door, his thick thighs consuming the entire breadth of leather seating.
“He’s gonna know and give me shit for it.” Sam repeats. “Asshole’s got a sixth sense or something.”
Your fingers, which had been pulling at the buttons of his flannel, pause. In your quest to bare his torso, you’d only conquered four buttons, more than enough to revel in the exposure of the valley between his pectorals, a smattering of dark hair, and the ends of the inky tendrils of his anti-possession tattoo.
Who cares if Dean realizes you fucked his brother in the car? Wouldn’t be the first time.
Luckily, you’ve never been caught. But even Dean is smart enough to piece together what it means when Sam’s coming across as extra guilty, paired with you suddenly walking around with a limp. And as there aren’t a ton of options of private places for you to get your rocks off, Dean can occasionally assume where the more elicit activities have taken place. You know Sam is always mortified when Dean bitches at him for it, he’s such a sensitive guy, but you always manage to talk him into it again eventually.
Like now.
Like every other time, you find Sam’s protests half-hearted at best, considering you can feel substantial evidence of his excitement pressed snugly against the apex of your parted thighs.
“Fine.” You concede, dropping your hands from his solid chest. “We can stop.”
You almost giggle at his flat expression, as if what you’d suggested was impossibly ridiculous. “Think it's a little late for that, isn’t it, honey?” One of his bulky hands claps your waist, holding you in place as he drives his hips upwards, so you can feel the distinct shape of him through his jeans. He’s fully hard. You chew your bottom lip at the momentary friction, delighting in the way he can overpower you and stop you from rolling your own hips with just one hand.
“You sure?” You wrap your arms around the expanse of his shoulders, drawing closer to the heat radiating from his body. “Wouldn’t want Dean to know what we get up to in his back seat, right?” He shivers into your touch, as you bring your lips to his ear, lightly scratching the back of his neck with your nails. The way he reacts to you is such a turn on for you, the way he pretends to be all domineering, as if you couldn’t have him eating out of your palm with a single word.
But he has the same effect on you. All it takes is for him to stretch in the morning, his shirt riding up on his toned stomach just a bit, biceps swelling as he flexes before extending his arms behind his head, to get you practically foaming at the mouth. Everything about him makes you want to jump his bones.
“Bet he’d be real jealous.” You continue in that special, breathy voice you saved just for Sam. “If he knew all the filthy things i’ve let you do to me back here-”
It’s true and that’s part of why it’s so hot. You and Sam steal away to go at each other in the back of the Impala like teenagers. When it's time to hit the road again, you make eyes at Sam when he catches your gaze in the rearview mirror, the playfulness in your expression alluding to all the depraved things you’d done the last time. It doesn’t take more than a coy smile and minimal batting of your eyelashes, for Sam to redden and clear his throat and look out the window before subtly adjusting the crotch of his pants.
“Baby,” He groans. “He’ll kill me if he catches us.”
“Well, then I better make it worth it.” You grab his hands and place them on your breasts over your shirt, before guiding them underneath your skirt to cup your ass.
Almost as if it's involuntary, his hips buck into you, squeezing your ass, and his resonant moan vibrates throughout the car. “Alright, alright. I’m convinced. Now can we please be done talking about my brother.”
You giggle and play with the ends of his shaggy hair. “You’re the one so worried about him.”
“Only thing I’m worried about right now is if you’re ready for me or not.” The hazel of his eyes is darkened in the shadows, but you can make out the intensity with which he’s staring at you, like you’re something otherworldly, something precious.
You resort to chewing on your bottom lip, shifty under the heat of his gaze. He lowers his forehead to yours, lips just a fraction from your own as you feel goosebumps burst across your skin at his palm resting on your bare thigh.
“Always ready for you, Sammy,” You whisper.
“I know, baby,” He doesn’t break eye contact as his hand slides up under your skirt. Your thighs automatically spread for him, and his jaw clenches in response. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”
You cry out softly, jolting a little, at the first brush of his fingers against your core. He deftly slips his fingers under the gusset of your panties to assess how wet you are. The second he touches the molten heat between your legs, he groans, and it's a full bodied sound. Your gut swoops in response, like you just reached the top of a swing.
“S’all for me, baby?” His lips brush yours, watching the contortion of your features as you react to his soft touch, the gentle, infuriating brush of his thumb over your clit. “Gotta be careful, just know you’re gonna make a fucking mess.”
“Then stop teasing me.” You whine, gripping the roots of his hair with an exasperated fist. “S’not nice.” Now you’re panting. Every time you try to push your hips down into his hand, desperate for a firmer touch, your inner thighs trembling with the effort, he draws away just enough to keep you frustrated.
“No kidding,” He murmurs. “Now you know how I feel. All the damn time, little fucking minx.” His hand snaps out in a flash to grab your jaw. The move startles you and your pussy flutters at the display of power and speed, even though he’s holding you gently and cracking a soft smile after.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” You deny, nuzzling into his hand.
As you resume your work on the buttons of his flannel, he starts manhandling you, grinding you against the crotch of his jeans crudely. It's pathetic, how wet you are, as he handles you like you weigh nothing. The stimulation has your eyes fluttering, as it further stokes the building ache in your lower belly. Frantically yanking the flannel down the tree trunks of Sam’s arms, you nearly drool over the sight of all his tanned skin, the thick, lean muscles of his shoulders, his biceps. You don’t know where to put your hands first.
“Right.” Sam rasps in your ear. “When you wear these little skirts,” He fists the fabric of your skirt, until the cords and tendons stand out in his forearm. “And give me those looks and I can practically hear every dirty thought I know you’re thinking…” Now his hands are sliding up the smooth slope of your back, spanning across your ribs before his thumbs are prodding your stiff nipples, encouraging you to arch further into him. “I imagine it all, s’that what you’re saying?”
“So? Y-You like it.”
He yanks your top over your head, then latches on to your chest. He’s rough with you, letting his teeth scrape against your sensitive nipples, and you have to stifle a squeal.
“No. I fucking love it.”
Sam kisses you, his mouth burning and wet, as if he’d been salivating from having your breast in his mouth. His tongue slides against yours, erasing all thoughts from your mind. You feel so small in his embrace, like he could easily break you, though you know he could never.
“Sammy, please,” You whisper, putting your hand on his upper thigh to show him what you want.
Sam leans back, letting his head rest against the foggy window. Slowly, his massive hand rubs over the bulge at his crotch. “Wanna beg me for it?”
“Play nice,” You pretend to scold him, swatting his hand away from his lap and going straight for the button of his jeans. “Or you’ll play by yourself,”
“Sounds like an empty threat,” He says with an indolent smirk.
You reach into his boxers and grip his cock, just pulling him before sliding backwards across the seats until you back meets the opposite car door. “Fine, play by yourself, then. And I will, too.”
Tilting your hips, you bring your knees to your chest before parting your legs, putting the glistening, swollen mess of your pussy fully on display for him. You immediately have to start touching yourself at the way his jaw goes slack, his head tilting more as he shamelessly absorbs the sight of you rubbing yourself, moaning audibly.
“You must want me dead, honey. Fucking killing me here.”
Your eyes are still fixated on his face, the absolute awe you see there, when he bites his bottom lip, and you realize he has his hand wrapped around himself.
The sight of his hand slowly twisting around his significant length, the swollen tip poking out of his curled fist, is all you focus on. His eyes are glued to your pussy in the same fashion. The pressure in your gut has built to something white hot and all-consuming, until you’re dangerously close to cumming.
“Y-You did this to yourself, big boy.” You force yourself to speak in a strangled voice, not quite matching the bravado of your words.
“Get your ass over here.” He grits out, chest completely flushed.
You lick your lips, moaning sweetly to add salt to the wound. You throw your head back, hitting it a bit harder on the glass behind you than intended.
“Wanna beg me for it?” You tease.
Sam rolls his eyes but grins. “Why would I beg when I know how bad you want it?” He mocks, gesturing to his dick.
“S’okay.” You moan, thighs shaking harder now. “Looking at it is fun, too. I’m already gonna cum-”
You yelp as he lunges out toward you, hoisting you back onto his lap as if you’re weightless.
“Now who’s being mean. Tryin’ to cum without me?” He leans down to kiss your shoulder sweetly, at the same time as he’s rubbing the fat head of his dick through your sopping cunt. You giggle and grasp his wrist, briefly astounded by how small your hand looks on his arm.
“Wouldn’t have to if you’d just do it for me!” You pout, watching his ministrations between your legs.
“Alright, baby, I hear you. You’re right. Enough is enough.”
Sam surges forward, slotting his panting, open mouth over yours. He winces, and even though he’d drenched his cock in your generous slickness, the second the head pushes inside of you, you cry out against the burn and stretch. But you love the pain. Love that each time you take him, it gets the slightest bit easier. Sure, it’ll probably leave you unable to walk comfortably for the rest of the night, but no one has ever made you feel this good in your life.
Sam paws at your face, smoothing your hair back. Shushing you with his lips at your cheek as he eases your hips down his length slowly.
“Holy fuck Sam-” You scream through gritted teeth as he juts his hips upward, fully seating his cock inside of you.
“There you go,” He encourages, squeezing your hip with one hand, the other snaking around to grab at the meat of your ass, gripping it harshly. “Just like that. Not so tough with my cock in you.”
“So big-” You gasp. You have to brace yourself with palms against the bulging muscles of his chest as he starts to lift and drop your hips, forcing your movements with his hands.
“Yeah.” He groans, staring at where his cock is slipping out of you, just the head inside your snug walls. “It’s just for you, beautiful.”
“Yeah,” You agree, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer. You nip at this bottom lip. “S’mine.”
Sam nods. “Course it is. Show me how good you can ride it.”
You start to move your hips, but really, he’s still doing the majority of the work, bouncing you on his lap now at a faster speed. By now, the inside of the car is stuffy, and sweat is beading across both of your chests, dampening your hair.
The Impala starts rocking underneath you.
The intensity of the moment disappears for a second, as you both register the noise, not stopping your movements. Just looking at each other before both breaking into smiles. You giggle before kissing him, a kiss that he immediately returns with enthusiasm, and then he’s thrusting himself into you hard enough to knock all the humor out of the situation.
“Shh,” He nudges your nose with his, holding you still while he jackhammers into you from below. “You’re so fucking loud. Asking for me to get my ass kicked.”
He slides you off his lap, his cock still inside you, and lays you down on the back seat. You grab at his shoulders, clinging to him as he hovers above you, looking even larger than usual crammed in the tight space. He uses one hand behind your knee to practically fold your body in half. He starts fucking you hard, until you can start to forget that he’s such an incredibly caring and sensitive person, too.
“Sam,” You moan, gripping him by the roots of his hair to keep his face close to yours. The heavy eye contact is making every sensation in your body feel heightened, so sensual despite how fast and dirty it is, that you fear you might have to tell him you love him after this.
“Need you to come, baby. Wanna come with you.”
Chest heaving, his eyes are soft as they bore into yours. “Yeah? Tell me how much you want it, baby. Being so good and taking my cock so perfectly.”
You actually don’t even need him to touch your clit, you can’t even tell him how badly you want it because you lose control. He’d been pounding into you so hard you couldn’t possibly hold it off a second longer. Your vision goes white, and you clutch him close, spasming around his cock while he keeps drilling into you. Your voice cracks, and he’s dropped so much of his weight onto you that you can barely breathe, but it's perfect because he’s all around you. You’re still cumming when he does, kissing you hard and sloppy while cumming deep inside you.
He gives a few short, slow thrusts that have you giggling from the hypersensitivity. Then he’s kissing your cheek, his hand gripping your bare leg. “Bad girl. Cumming without me.” He says into your ear.
“Close enough, right?” You give him big eyes and a little pout before pulling him in for a kiss, as if you hadn’t just been entirely satisfied.
You nearly jump out of your skin when there’s a loud bang from the trunk of the car.
“Oh, shit-” Sam groans, sliding you off his lap. You immediately start fumbling to put your top back on but you’re laughing.
“I swear to fucking God, Sam,” Dean’s voice barks from way too close for comfort. “I’m going to open this door in 4 seconds, and if your fucking dick is out, I’m going to cut it the fuck off.”
Having heard no threats against your person, you press a quick kiss to the corner of Sam’s mouth and take a last chance to run your hand over his chest.
“Good luck with that. If you make it out with your dick, let’s do this again sometime.”
“Are you a freak” my favorite color is pink. I love Caesar salad with Diet Coke. I sleep with a stuffed sheep named Barbara. I love the beach. But yeah I am tho.
Very fascinated by this Walmart shirt. Could they not use the actual phrase or something? It's not even specifying "when you're mean to me" it's just when you're mean in general this particular bunny gets hurt. She carries all suffering. This bunny experiences all evil in the world.
It slipped out naturally. You couldn’t even think about before the word left your mouth. You were too distracted by the stretch of your leg over his shoulder, the way his cock dove inside of you, and the tears streaming down your face that he wiped away.
“Daddy!”
His pace faltered. He would never be able to admit the moan that followed. He felt his stomach flutter and he stared at your eyes.
“Feel good, baby?” He asked gently.
You nodded, “yes, really good.” His thrusts became more determined, punctuating each one.
“How good?” He asked again, not even trying to be coy, speaking as though he just needed feedback.
“Amazing,” you groaned, back arched off the bed and nails digging into his shoulders, “I’m close, daddy,” you murmured.
Being balls deep inside of you as you said that, he had no chance. “Oh, ah,” he moaned, “me too, sweetheart,” his brow scrunched, glasses fogging up.
You gasped for air, “mm, daddy,” you hummed. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling his as close as possible.
Your lips pressed to your lover’s before you whispered, “like when I call you daddy?”
He whimpered, “yes,” he shyly answered, nearly ashamed.
“Good,” you smiled, “cum in me, daddy.”
“Oh, woah,” he let out. You felt the warm white cream fill you up and with a few more thrusts, you were done for.
“Daddy!” You squealed, eyes closing, head throwing back into the pillow which left room for him to pepper kisses along your neck.
The two of you remained face to face, taking in each other’s sweat and oxygen. His right hand that had gripped the pillow next to your head, traced down to your shoulder, brushing away hair to press a kiss before he fell down beside you.
"you shit-talked me under the table, talking rings and talking cradles" has always been somewhat perplexing to me. she's twisting the phrase "to drink someone under the table," i.e. to handle your liquor better than them. what's always escaped me though is what was taylor talking shit about? and it just dawned on me. she's calling back to "i talk shit with my friends, it's like i'm wasting your honor." i talk a lot of shit, but yours takes the cake. for all your honor and dignity, you made promises of marriage and children that you never intended to keep, and now i can't move on because i carry that memory when those promises felt real.
⚠️ sexting, piv little bit, this isn't that good but it's been awhile
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
Today you are the lucky one. Your class this morning had been canceled, which left Jason to begrudgingly leave you behind in your New Rome apartment while you begged him to skip his class, unfortunately something your angel of a boyfriend would never do.
So, he wasn't surprised when his phone buzzed once in the middle of class. Then again. Then again. Then again.
He sighed, pulling it out of his pocket. He read your name, followed by little pink hearts next to it and seven texts reading
Baby
Baby
Babyyyyyy
Jason grace
My loveeeee
Loverrrrrr
My mannnnnnnnnn
He chuckled under his breath, hoping his professor would not notice him briefly losing attention. He unlocked his screen before typing,
Are you okay, darling?
Immediately the three dots appeared followed by
Kinda
I just don't feel that good
His brows creased, worried that you had caught something,
what do you feel?
What he was not expecting was a picture of your manicured nails spreading your lips with the text,
hurts here :(
He locked his phone, slamming it on his desk. His professor and several classmates looked over at the noise. He huffed, wiping off his glasses and clearing his throat. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“As I was saying, Mr. Grace,” the professor carried on with the lecture that became static loose to Jason as he picked his phone back up.
Sweetheart, I’m still in class
Another picture, your soaked fingers now holding your chest, nipple peeking between the digits. He shifted in his seat, feeling himself twitch beneath his pants. He sighed, looking back at the board, unable to comprehend a single word.
When I get home
A video. He knew he was screwed. He made sure his volume was off before clicking play. His phone lit up with you lying in your shared bed, fingers curling inside of you. As you brought the camera to your face, even with the volume off, he could tell the words you were speaking.
“Jason, help me.”
Quickly enough, he stood up. He shoved his things into his backpack before the professor looked up.
“Problem, Mr. Grace?”
His eyes were wide behind his lenses. “Uhm, my girlfriend just texted that a pipe burst in our apartment, I need to go, uhm…” He nodded to finish his nonsensical lie before rushing out. Pulling up your contact to call you.
“Hello?”
“I’m on my way home.”
He could hear the smile in your voice, “that’s my good boy.”
He felt his dick pulsate again. He groaned into the microphone, “I told my professor a pipe in our apartment burst.”
You twisted your fingers around the white bed sheets, “well, that's not too far off a lie,” you began, “it is all wet here.”
The phone went dead on your end and you looked down at your screen confused.
“Jase?”
You heard the door of your balcony creak open, a drop of a bag, then watched the bedroom door ply open. There Jason stood, exasperated, glasses tilted, hair a mess.
You simply giggled, “someone was impatient."
He pulled off his tee, revealing his chiseled body and throwing it onto the floor. “I’m the one who’s impatient?”
You crawled toward the end of the bed to meet him at the edge. You looked up at him, doe eyes and all as you unbuckled his belt.
“Uh huh. You just couldn't wait for your class to end to be inside me,” you unzipped his fly to spring out his long, thick cock. “Look at him, even more impatient.” You licked the tip softly to tease him, pressing a wet kiss after.
His hand wrapped around your hand to make a messy ponytail. “Sweetheart. You're going to kill me.”
“That’s my plan.” You threw yourself back, spreading your legs as your head reached the pillows. He pulled down his jeans and underwear to now be matching with you. He slowly knelt down to be face to face with your cunt.
He closed his eyes to take in your sweet smell while his lips collided with your nerves. You gasped, throwing your head back in relief.
“Jason,” you purred, “I need you.”
He pressed a kiss to your pussy, trailing the wetness to the inside of your thigh.
“Trust me,” he spoke, leaning up, “I know.” He braced his arms on either side of your head, down on his elbows to barely have an inch between your faces.
“Inside, now,” you commanded. Like the good boy he was, he of course did so, easily sliding inside of you from your wetness.
“Oh!” You moaned out as he just stayed still, waiting for your = tight walls to adjust. Your eyes closed, nails digging into his shoulder.
