"Is that seriously all you can do? Wow, you're pathetic," he sneers with a smile while watching your body slowly rise and fall on his cock.
You don't even know how long you've been like this. You helplessly rise your body upwards while feeling the strain in your quivering thighs. It doesn't help that he's bound your wrist behind your back with his belt, so you couldn't use his chest for leverage.
"Toji," you whimpered, "I said I was sorry!"
"Ah, but is sorry going to change how you were acting earlier?" he asks with a fake pout while just watching how your tits bounce in his face. His trail of saliva still slightly visible, and so is the hickeys forming around your nipples.
This whole dilemma started when you thought it'd be funny to send a teasing photo to your boyfriend while he was busy with a job. Well whoopsie do, his coworker, Shiu, saw it on accident too and that pissed Toji off.
"I didn't know he'd be with you," you cried, but that just prompts your man to scoff and swat your ass with his hand.
"Pick it up baby. Bad girls don't get spoiled," he ignores your pleas while leaning back against the head board. His hands were on your hips and gripped them ever so softly; primarily because he didn't want to help you at all.
A pitiful tear slips onto your cheek as you brought yourself up before slamming back down on him. The tip of his dick practically kissing your cervix as your slick from five minutes ago still slips down your abused hole and pools on his thighs. Toji just watched him disappearing inside you each time he bottomed out; the skin around the base of his cock wrinkling before you'd pull yourself back up. You stilled on him for a moment as your thighs twitched from exhaustion.
Quickly, his palm spanks your ass, decorating it with yet another red handprint.
"Keep going," he said in a deep, authoritative voice while his eyes bore into you. You shifted your arms behind you, but the leather belt didn't loosen and only dug into your skin.
When you didn't immediately start again, his other hand came down harder.
"Have you already fucked yourself dumb? Keep going."
A sob came out of your throat as you leaned down and pressed your face into the crook of his neck. He felt your wet cheeks press into his neck— your cunt still pulsating around him.
"No please," you babbled, "I didn't know he'd see it. I'm sorry Toji! Just fuck me."
You heard your boyfriend exhale from his nose deeply while one hand on your hip came up to rub your lower back tenderly. The other hand reached to the belt cuffing your two wrist together and expertly undid it then tossed the belt somewhere else. He should've known a princess like you couldn't possibly ride him for that long, but he can't blame you. He always was the one taking over and fucking you into the mattress so you didn't have to even think.
"Aw look at these pretty wrist," he coos mockingly while grabbing your arm to hold it up to his face. His thumb brushed over the faint red line of where the leather began to rub your skin raw. He leans forward and presses a delicate kiss on the irritated skin before dropping the arm. He hums and continues even though you kept your head buried: "you can really be such a sweetheart when you're not acting like a whore."
At his words, he just felt you clamp down and let out another needy whine.
After just a second, he's suddenly rolling you off and transferring into missionary; him gripping your legs and throwing one of them over his shoulder to get a good angle.
"You little slut— can't even ride me good. It's okay, you're lucky I'm so sweet on you."
He shallowly thrusts into you a few times while your free hands reach up and claw at his biceps before slipping down his toned arms that flexed under your fingertips.
"Hold my hand," you finally said through the sniffles and a hiccup.
"Needy," he muttered, but quickly intertwined his fingers with yours. Adjusting the position, he leans further down and presses the both of your hands beside your head and uses that to prop himself up as he looms over you. The stretch burned in your leg as he nearly presses it against your shoulder.
Finally, he leaned down and pressed a kind kiss against your lips— the first kiss he's given you since he got home. You feel his hips move in small motions right and left before he pulls away from the kiss and stills.
"Now you better be a good girl and take it since you've begged for it, okay?" he says with a grin when he sees how desperate you look: teary, shaking, and staring up at him pitifully.
"M'kay I will," you whispered.
Finally, he's pulling his hips back until the head gets caught on your rim, then feverishly pumping them back in.
thinking about men who are so strong they can bounce you on their cock while standing up without breaking a sweat.
what’s more impressive is that he never just uses you as flashlight to get off. he can make love to you in that position, holding you firmly and keeping a nice pace as his arms bring your body up and down. if you’re face to face, he has the strength to tease you by holding you at just the tip while kissing your blushing face. if you have your back to him, he will just enjoy the feeling of your hair on his neck when your head is inevitably thrown back against his shoulder. and if you take your time and need build up? no problem. he’s got the stamina to fuck you like that for as long as you’d like.
✶ notary nsfw content. hello world.... i am back with a small drabble that i wrote in 10 minutes before i upload my long ahh fic
sam winchester is the most respectful, polite and soft spoken man you've ever met. the one you would be proud to introduce to your parents. but behind closed doors? he can be a fucking menace.
your high-pitched whimpers are filling the impala. hands clawing at his arms, his hair, abs, almost everywhere, as sam's on top of you pounding himself into you so deep, you can feel him in your stomach.
your parents think you're on a movie date. i mean, he showed up on your doorstep with flowers and puppy eyes, who would not believe him? who would think that he would have you begging for mercy for an hour straight?
the windows are getting fogged up, your body is probably on it's 10th orgasm, but sam is nowhere close to stopping.
"sam-" you choke on a moan, because sam is choking you himself. his hand is tight around your throat, just enough for your world and senses to narrow to only him and nothing else. and it's working. your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, you're seeing white, you almost can't breathe but it all just feels so good.
he leans down to capture your lips into another messy kiss, filled with tongue, spit and desire. you struggle to kiss him back, because you just can't seem to stop moaning.
"look at me" he says between his own groans and whimpers.
you try. you really try to. but it's all just too much. too much pleasure. your body's almost gone numb.
"fuckin' look at me or i'll stop" he urges now, just with a hint of desperation.
that's when you got desperate. "no- please" you whimpered, fluttering your eyes open.
and god, he has never looked better. sweaty, rosy cheeks, eyes filled with lust and desire. but then a small smirk appeared on his face and before you could register anything, his second hand wraps around your throat too and he starts rocking his hips impossibly fast inside you.
Sam's hands grip your thighs tightly, spreading you wide on the edge of the bed bed as his mouth devours you with no hesitation. His tongue drags flat and slow over your folds, tasting every inch before targeting your clit directly. He sucks it between his lips harshly, flicking the sensitive nub with precise strokes that make your hips buck upward.
“FUCK SAM!” you moan loudly, and he groans against your pussy causing vibrations through you.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling it hard as you feel your first orgasm burst through you. Your thighs clamp around his head as you ride out your orgasm, but Sam doesn't ease up.
“S-Sam too much” you gasp out, but of course he doesn’t stop he holds you down tighter with his big arms.
He groans against your pussy, the vibration sending vibrations up your spine. His tongue circles your wet entrance, and then pushes inside, fucking you with insistent thrusts while his thumb rubs tight circles on your swollen clit.
He continues to fuck you with his tongue not slowing down his movements. He starts to rub your clit faster, and you squirm under him but his large biceps makes sure you stay down, and don’t go anywhere or close your legs.
The second orgasm builds faster. Your thighs tremble under his strong arms as Sam keeps licking, and sucking harder now. Drawing out every sound from you out. He doesn’t stop not even when you're gasping his name. You don’t even get to calm down from the second orgasm.
He slides two thick fingers into your dripping wet pussy, curling them against that spot inside you that makes you see stars. His mouth never leaves your clit. He pumps his fingers inside you at a harsh pace. Your cum is still flowing out along with your juices, and his tongue Kees lapping at the slick mess you're making.
Your third orgasm hits you like a brick, your back arching off the bed as you cry out his name with tears down your face. Sam holds you down with one strong arm across your hips, not letting you escape the relentless attention. He keeps fucking you with his two fingers through your third orgasm.
He adds a third finger, stretching you open, and making you scream out in pleasure. All while he sucks your clit with a face rhythmic pace. Your juices are coating his chin and drip down onto the white sheets.
"Sam— too much," you cry, but he just growls in response, the sound is muffled against your oversensitive pussy.
He shifts his tongue flattening to grind on your clit as his fingers thrust deeper, and faster if that’s even possible.
It doesn’t take long for your fourth orgasm rips through you, your walls clenching around his fingers so hard it almost hurts you. Your vision blurs, and your body twitches uncontrollably as you ride it out.
Sam pulls back just enough to watch your face, and his lips are covered with your arousal.
"One more," he murmurs, but you know this is a lie.
Not even a second later his tongue is spearing into your pussy while his fingers work your clit quick. He doesn't stop when you come again for the fifth time. He actually laughs because how quick you came. He pushes your legs open when you try to close them. He forces them apart with his strong arms, and burying his face deeper, licking and sucking through your orgasm as you cry out.
Your sixth orgasm leaves you sobbing with pleasure, and now your tears are flowing freely as your body shakes uncontrollably.
Sam keeps going, and his tongue is lapping up every drop you give, fingers never stopping their harsh pace inside you.
By the type your seventh orgasm hits you your complete jelly, voice gone from screaming out. He finally slows, and presses gentle kisses on your inner thighs before returning to your clit with soft licks that still make you cry out.
He gently places two fingers back inside, curling them as he gets out one final release from you that leaves you limp.
Sam lifts his head at last, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes soft with gentleness despite his earlier relentless efforts. He watches you come down, and recover from him. Your pussy is throbbing swollen and slick with your juice and his spit.
He stands up, and stares down at you smiling gently. You weakly smile back, but it quickly drops as he drops his jeans.
𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ₊ ˚ sexual content, size kink, dryhumping, stress-fucking, body worship while jerking off, panties as a kink, masturbation (male recieving), sextape or video-sex, sleepy sex, public sex
── aftermath at the motel, ⠀ ⠀ he's too big 4 u, ⠀ ⠀humping on him, ⠀ ⠀riding sam after a bad case, ⠀ ⠀sam is just a simp for your body, ⠀ ⠀another pair of undies ruined by ur pervbf!sammy, ⠀ ⠀jerking sam off over his stanford room, ⠀ ⠀your first sextape together, sleepy sammy just wants to fuck your cunt again! ⠀ ⠀ ⠀the type of videos he sends to you after a hunt, ⠀ professor!sam loves to fuck you after getting a good grade, ⠀ he's a lingerie guy for sure!
warnings // soulless!sam, manipulation, biting, p in v, fem!reader, degradation, power imbalance, spitting
Soulless Sam Winchester is calculated. The immoral parts of regular Sam Winchester are usually buried deep, piled under stacks of shame and guilt, but as soon as he lost his soul, his secure moral compass splintered into a million pieces. It shows through the way he thrusts into you. His harsh movements are evident that he doesn’t care if the tip bruises your cervix. His gaze is vacant, the loving sparkle that normally glistens in his eyes replaced with possessiveness.
Ownership.
Sam pushes into you, focusing on the way your tight, wet walls suck him up. With one arm placed over your head, he stares down at you. “Eyes on me.”
“Yes, Sam,” you respond obediently, eyes widening as his head dips down to the crook of your neck. At first he’s gentle, pressing delicate kisses to your fragile skin, but when his teeth sink into the soft flesh on your collarbone, a yelp mixed with a wanton moan slips out.
Sam pulls his head up to look at you, his cock still buried inside of you as he tests the waters. Almost like a predator sizing up its prey, Sam scans each crevice of your face, noting the slight twitch in your lips as the pain from the bite settles.
Your stomach flutters— this new version of Sam is exciting, enticing, and appetizing. With saliva pooling in your mouth as the terror of this moment sinks in, you instinctively open your mouth, and Sam knows exactly what you want.
He parts his lips. Tantalizingly, Sam lets a string of saliva fall into your mouth. “Swallow.”
You nod, your core warming up at the taste of his saliva on your tongue. It isn’t until Sam dips his head down once more, and begins to leave a trail of bite marks along your chest, focusing on the sensitivity of your collarbones that you realize this isn’t your Sammy.
“Sammy,” you drawl out, a whiny tone attached to his name as he leaves uncomfortable bite marks all over your body. He’s marking what’s his, after all.
“You like it,” Sam’s tone has shifted into something that makes your gut twist in fear.
Taking in your bottom lip, you chew on it hard enough that if you’re not careful, you might split the skin. Silence permeates the air, all the words you want to spew are jailed in your esophagus.
“But deny it all you want,” Sam leans down, pressing a chaste kiss against the most prominent bite mark on your collarbone. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
content warning: nsfw, smut, all the dirty things bc dean winchester makes me slut out, dom!dean, praise/degradation kink, marking, eye contact obsession bc i said so, rough sex, possessiveness, dirty talk, mean!dean (oof), control/power dynamics, general filth
⛧ dean winchester is a control freak in bed
→ he’s not subtle about it either. he wants your wrists pinned, your hips where he puts them, your body following his lead. it’s not just that he likes being in control — it’s wired into his brain. default settings. and it isn’t just power for power’s sake. it’s about grounding himself in you, in the moment. it’s sacred. after all the chaos, the loss, the blood on his hands… having you beneath him, being inside you — that’s the only place he can actually breathe.
⛧ dean has a filthy, unholy mouth
→ he can ruin you without laying a finger on you. he lives for your reactions — the way your breath stutters when he leans in and murmurs, “look at you, dripping for me already.” the smirk when you whimper just from the sound of his voice. he’s always watching, fine-tuning what he says based on whether you flinch, melt, or moan.
→ the switch from praise to degradation? seamless. natural. default settings. he’ll call you a “good girl” in that low, husky drawl when you’re doing everything right, but he’ll also lean in close and whisper, “you just love being used, don’t you?” with so much affection it makes your chest ache.
→ and if you talk back? god help you. “mouthy little thing,” he’ll smirk, “let’s see how smart you sound with my cock down your throat.”
⛧ that man eats pussy for his own enjoyment
→ dean doesn’t just do it because you like it — he gets off on it. there’s something about being between your thighs, your fingers tangled in his hair, hearing you come apart because of him. he’ll stay there for hours if you let him, eating you out like it’s a full-time job and he’s angling for a promotion. there’s nothing lazy or casual about it — he’s relentless. he groans into you like he’s starving, like he’s tasting something forbidden. his hands keep you spread, his shoulders lock your thighs in place, and he won’t stop even when you’re crying from overstimulation.
→ he loves the mess. he loves when you tug his hair, buck against his mouth, whimper his name like you’re breaking. afterward, he’ll crawl up your body, kiss you deep, and make you taste yourself. he needs you to know how good you are — and when he rasps, “could live between your thighs,” he means it. every. single. time.
⛧ your body is a roadmap to dean’s favorite places
→ dean is territorial — not in a toxic way, but in that deep, primal you’re mine way. he leaves hickeys where he knows they’ll show: your neck, the swell of your chest, that tender spot behind your ear. he wants people to know. if sam or cas notices at breakfast, even better. he’ll smirk when you blush because yeah — he did that.
→ he grips your hips hard enough to bruise, bites your shoulder when he’s close, whispers “mine, mine, mine” into your skin like a prayer. and if someone else flirts with you? god help them. he’ll fuck you hard that night, growling “no one else gets to touch you like this” into your neck, needing to feel you’re his again.
⛧ dean lives for the thrill of maybe getting caught
→ you know that look he gets when you whisper something filthy in his ear at the wrong time? like you just ruined his night in the best way? yeah. that’s your ticket to being bent over the impala’s hood.
→ dean lives for that push-pull — you teasing him during a hunt, wearing something too short, brushing your fingers along his thigh while cas is talking. he clenches his jaw, pretends to ignore you — but the second you’re alone? he snaps. presses you against the wall, growls “you think that was funny?” and then ruins you for even trying.
→ semi-public drives him wild. it’s not about being watched — it’s about the risk. the way you look wrecked, trying to keep quiet. the power of making you lose control where you’re not supposed to.
⛧ grinding and edging? dean’s signing up
→ he loves putting you on his thigh, watching you grind against him like you’ve lost your mind. he flexes the muscle, holds your hips still, makes you work for it. “c’mon, baby, use me. show me how bad you want it.” and when you’re whining, close, so close — he’ll pull you back just to hear you beg.
→ and overstimulation? he’s addicted. he’ll fuck you until you’re sobbing, until you’re shaking and pleading — “please,” “can’t,” “dean, I—” — and he still won’t stop until he’s satisfied you’ve fallen apart completely. but he always knows your limits. he’s tuned into your body so perfectly it’s terrifying — he knows exactly when to push and when to soften.
⛧ dean loves — scratch that, needs — eye contact
→ dean has a thing about your eyes. not just looking at you — holding you there. he doesn’t let you look away when he’s inside you. one big, calloused hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing your jaw as he rasps, “eyes on me, sweetheart. wanna see you fall apart for me.”
→ it’s devastating, because his gaze is heavy, hungry, and soft all at once. when your eyes roll back, he tightens his grip, almost pleading: “no, baby, look at me — stay with me.” the second your eyes lock with his again, he groans like it’s tearing him apart.
→ for him, it’s never just sex. that eye contact? it’s intimacy. it’s dean’s way of saying i’m here. i’ve got you. you’re mine. it wrecks him every single time.
⛧ he secretly loves when you play fight him
→ if you push back, try to wrestle control from him, dean lights up. he lives for the struggle — the way you try to flip him, the way you claw at him, the way your bratty little defiance makes him even harder.
→ he’ll pin you down, breath ragged, laughing low and feral: “cute. you really think you can win against me?” sometimes he lets you think you’re gaining the upper hand, just so he can slam you back down harder.
→ and if you ever manage to get on top? he grabs your hips, thrusts up deep, and takes control anyway — proving he’s always the one in charge.
⛧ baby is a sacred sex altar
→ the impala isn’t just his car — it’s an altar. and he’ll have you in it every way possible: backseat, hood, bent over the trunk. there’s something primal about it, something that ties sex to everything else he loves and protects.
→ he groans like an animal when you moan his name in the backseat, when your nails scratch the leather. afterward, he’ll grin like the devil himself and say, “hope you don’t mind ridin’ dirty.”
⛧ aftercare with dean is always soft
→ no matter how rough it gets — and it does get rough — dean flips instantly into soft mode the second it’s over. he’s pulling you into his arms, whispering against your hair, stroking your back. “you did so good for me, sweetheart. so good.”
→ he checks in, gets you water, runs you a bath if you need it. he has to make sure you’re okay — because underneath the growls and the filthy mouth, he’s still dean: the boy who carries too much and loves even harder.
→ sometimes you catch him staring at you afterward, soft and dazed, like he can’t believe you let him see you that way. like he can’t believe you’re real.
author's note: sooooo i tried not to make these too self indulgent. key word: tried. bc omg i need this man SOOOOOO bad... anyways, i'm working on a few requests and also more text messages bc you guys seem to love them a lot and tbh so do i ngl. as always, feedback is very much appreciated and make sure to leave any comments or thoughts down below, or in my asks! requests are open btw! love yall!!!!
content: smut - porn without plot, oral ( f receiving), degrading kink, orgasm control, orgasm denial, name calling, sam is an asshole
pairing: Soulless Sam x fem!reader / dom!Sam x sub!fem!reader
summary: after you went off the plan during a hunt earlier, soulless sam shows you that you should never let that happen again
word count: 517
The sheets were soft and comfortable underneath you, a complete contrast to the man standing before you.
“Because you wanted to act like such a slut earlier, you get to be treated like one.” Sam spoke, the words harsh and rough, devoid of the gentleness you knew to be Sam Winchester. Your cheeks flushed at his words, nodding to let him know you understand.
“Take these off.” He told you firmly, eyes lingering on your underwear that was peaking out under your jeans. “Now.” He growled more harshly when you didn’t make any attempt to move.
Leaning back on your elbows, you unzipped your jeans and shimmied them down your legs hastily, feeling how soaked you were through your panties.
Sam hummed in approval when you were left with your lower half naked apart from the soft white fabric between your legs. “Good. So you can listen. So what was that earlier, huh?” He lowered himself so that he was in between your legs.
“You just didn’t wanna do what I said? Wanted to go kill it yourself?” Sam continued as he hooked a finger into your panties, not even bothering to take them off and simply pulling them to the side as he looked up at you, eyes dark and dominant.
A whimper escaped from your lips as he spat onto your clit, bringing up a finger to rub into it roughly “‘M sorry. I- I thought I could do it myself.”
He shook his head disapprovingly as he held onto your thighs tightly, spreading them further apart. Without a warning, his tongue was lapping at your aching pussy, thrusting his tongue into you as if he was starving.
A broken moan left your mouth as you let your head fall back, the immediate and constant pressure was overwhelming. You felt him smirk into you at the reaction you gave, only encouraging him further.
Sam moved from your dripping cunt to suck on your clit, pushing two fingers into where he had previously been eating you out with no further preparation. The stretch burned slightly, but it turned into intense pleasure as soon as he curled them inside of you, hitting right where you needed him.
With the combination of him sucking on your clit and his fingers pumping inside of you, your orgasm quickly approached. Your hands gripped and tugged at the sheets under you, trying to ground yourself as your brain went fuzzy.
Sam felt how close you were in the way you clenched around him and how your thighs closed around his head, and without warning, he pulled away completely.
You whined at the loss of contact, lifting your head to meet the smug expression Sam was wearing, his chin covered in your slick as he wiped it off of his mouth with the back of his hand.
“S- Sam, why-“ You questioned desperately, already feeling the orgasm slip away before you could reach it.
Sam chuckled darkly, standing up from the bed as if nothing happened. “I told you I was treating you like a slut, and sluts don’t get to cum.”
‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
a/n: this is my first time writing smut for sammy, and my first time writing for soulless sam as a whole, so i hope its okay! mark meachum fic out tonight in honour of another countdown day 💋 not proofread, if there are mistakes, lmk!
Summary: Sam is completely infatuated with you, so much so that he practically lays his heart at your feet. He is the most selfless, tender, and attentive lover you have ever had, but he also loves to taunt, tease, and demand, a side of him reserved solely for you, and you can't get enough of it.
OR:
Sam brings you to orgasm with your bullet vibrator whilst you cockwarm him. Plus some emotional revelations and some ever-so-appropriately-timed philosophical musings. In other words, you're just a couple of hot, horny nerds with a soul-bending emotional connection (emphasis on the horny).
Notes: This may eventually make an appearance in my longfic, History on Your Side, which I wrote this adjacent to, but I haven't got there yet, and I'm too impatient to keep this to myself. This can also be read as a one-shot. I hope you enjoy!
Sam’s eyes meet yours, the thin band of hazel ringing his pupils glazed with pleasure. The gold flecks in what was left of his irises appear to dance in the lamplight, swimming with desire as he reclines against the headboard, chest rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm.
He looks dazed: his lips wet and parted, the sweat on his skin making him glow like a god. You’ve never seen him so...
So...?
He is blinding, angelic, gazing down at you with... what?—adoration?—awe? He’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. How can he even exist? He is beyond comprehension.
Your heart beats a little harder in your throat and you swallow around the lump that has formed, the salty tang of Sam’s release still fresh on your tongue. What is he seeing as he takes in your state: naked and disheveled, what you have just done, what you are planning to do? You can’t be sure, but the way it makes you feel when he looks at you… The way he makes you feel. Him wanting you, desiring you, basking in the afterglow of your ministrations. You feel like the most powerful woman on the planet.
Chancing a smile, you shuffle your already-grazed knees in the blankets.
“I wanna be the best, and worst slut you’ve ever had,” you rasp without thinking, but stop yourself short before saying, I want to be your everything. It’s too much to ask—you know—but fuck, it doesn’t make it any less true.
You watch his eyes widen, then... soften slightly. He is all hard muscle and bone, but you know that beneath that rough exterior is a softer terrain he’s sheltered behind the barricades of his lifestyle for too long. Just like you have. He’d taught you that, no matter how unintended.
“Shit,” he says, his breath hitching. “You already are.”
You already are. It sounds like a confession to your unvoiced thoughts.
“And I,” he continues, leaning forward and cupping your cheek with his palm, “want to be the one to fulfil those desires.” His thumb brushes a gentle stroke against your jaw, making your hairs stand on end, electric. “Every depraved, little thought. Every dirty fantasy. Every desire you’ve been too afraid to ask for—including the ones you deem you don’t deserve.”
He isn’t just talking about sex anymore. This is.... personal. He knows. Somehow, he knows. He’s always known—the way you view yourself—how you’ve deemed yourself unworthy of love. Because... He feels that way too, you realize, your heart breaking a little. This man. This perfect, selfless man, has never deemed himself worthy of love. At least he hadn’t, until—
Sam’s hands find your waist, his calloused hunter's palms gliding over smooth skin, and he pulls you towards him, guiding you onto his lap. You let your knees fall on either side of his hips, his bare skin a warm, familiar comfort against yours.
“I,” Sam says, your face now level with his, “want to be the one who gives that to you, Y/N. It’s my greatest honor to serve you.”
“Serve me?” Your voice is but a whisper, but the question sits heavy on your tongue. It tastes foreign, but sweet, a flavor you’ve never encountered, but now that you have, you’ll never forget the aftertaste.
“Yes,” he says, matter-of-factly. “As your dom, it’s my duty to serve you.”
Duty. That word again. It's come up a lot in your conversations. What is it with this man and his superior sense of moral responsibility? For a seemingly non-religious man, he attaches a lot of reverence to it. For him, it is an imperative. He is attracted to it like flies to honey. He did study for law school, you reflect. Maybe he's read too much Kant?
He cups your cheek again, his gaze flicking between your eyes and lips. “Everything I do is to serve you, Y/N. Even when I’m commanding you, I do it to serve you. Thank you for trusting me to do that.”
A sense of revelation washes over you at his words. Although you’ve never doubted him, not even for a second, trusting someone to anticipate your needs—to know when and how far to push your boundaries, and when to pull back—is not something to be taken lightly. Now, you realize, that putting your trust in him should have been harder than it was.
But he makes it so easy; you’ve never once felt pressured, put on the spot, or coerced. As counterintuitive as it may sound, being his sub—being commanded by him, at his mercy, even being restrained at times—actually makes you feel more free. Liberated. It all suddenly makes so much sense, like a lens snapping into focus.
He looks you in the eye again, steady, analyzing, and you know that he is asking for permission. That look, coupled with the strained sensation against your thigh— You know that this conversation isn’t over, but yet...
You can feel him beneath you—again—hard and insistent. Undeniably desirous. You’ve never known such stamina.
You nod—yes—and that is all the confirmation he needs.
His lips meet yours in a heated kiss, his tongue shortly following, as if he’s savoring every note of your taste.
You shift your weight and your bodies move together as you rise to angle yourself against him.
You join together slowly, deliberately, the stretch of him a welcome pressure that makes you gasp into his mouth. You sink deeper, deeper, until you are held-fast against him. He fills you so completely, so perfectly, you can feel it in your soul. It is more than the physical—you’ve never felt so whole, so complete.
Sam smiles against your lips as he holds you there, unmoving, seemingly happy to just sit here inside you.
“You see?” he says. “We fit perfectly together, you and I.”
“You’re such a romantic,” you tease.
“Maybe. Maybe it’s just the effect you have on me.”
Playfully, you roll your eyes, start to say something, but are stopped short as Sam’s lips attach themselves to the base of your throat, causing you to let out an embarrassingly breathy moan.
“You were saying?” He chuckles, continuing to explore your neck with his lips and tongue.
“I..." you sigh. "I can’t remember.”
He chuckles again, smugly, then moves his lips to nibble at your earlobe. The way his body presses against yours angles his cock even tighter into your sweet-spot, and the desire below your belly cascades with liquid heat.
“Fuck,” he growls, low and deep, his breath hot against your ear. “I can feel you baby—what this is doing to you. You’re so fucking wet. So fucking responsive. Such a good girl for me.”
You don’t even bother to hold back your moans now, it is all too much—he knows exactly what to do, knows exactly what to say to get you going. Always has.
“Yes,” you mewl. “And it’s all for you, Sir. All for you...”
You begin to grind your hips, chasing that high only he can give you, but Sam clearly has other plans.
“Hey,” he whispers, placing his hands on your hips to still you. “Not yet. Slow down.”
As frustrating as it is, you comply. Sam has a way of testing your patience like no one else. It has always been worth it, though.
You watch as he extends his arm to the side, rummages around in your bedside dresser. Immediately, you know exactly what he has planned, and you throb around him at the thought.
His hand emerges grasping a small, silk, drawstring pouch, and you watch as he slides out your small-but-mighty bullet vibrator.
It may not look like much, but it is powerful, versatile and lends itself perfectly for situations like the one you currently find yourself in.
You’d told him about your toys—this one especially—seeing as it had kept you company most recently whilst he was away.
He sets the empty pouch back in your drawer.
“So this is what had you screaming my name down the phone?” he says, smirking.
You whole body flushes at the memory: Sam’s voice in your ear as you both got yourselves off; you at home, Sam in some dingy motel room when he’d managed to steal some time alone.
“It might be small,” you say, “but it’s very effective.”
“Hmm,” Sam says, considering. “I think it’s about time we get acquainted, then.”
You watch open-mouthed as Sam brings your vibe to his lips, letting the tip enter his mouth.
“Cold,” he says, then pushes it in further, coating the entirety of the metal with his saliva.
You continue to gape as he removes it, then after three testing clicks with his thumb, sets the vibe alive.
The sound of the buzz alone has you tingling, especially at the thought of Sam controlling it.
“May I?” he asks, holding the device between you, always asking for permission, always the gentleman, even as he plans to torment you.
Your nod is urgent, but Sam’s actions are anything but as he brings it to rest lightly against your mouth. The sensation is strange, but not unpleasant, and it sends a tingling sensation right through your brain.
“Open,” he demands, and you comply, letting the vibe buzz against your tongue for a minute before he drags it down your chin and across your jaw, painting your combined saliva in a shiny, wet stripe across your flesh.
When it meets the side of your neck, you flinch, giggling. You’ve always been ticklish there. Sam knows that, and he only looks amused.
After that agony, he drags it over your collarbones, then over your chest, taking a moment to circle the tip around your already-erect nipples, making them pebble even further.
“That good?” he asks with a smile, no doubt in response to your increasing moans, and you nod, biting your bottom lip.
“Good,” he says, satisfied.
After another few moments, he slowly trails the vibe down your stomach, as if the tip were a knife skimming the surface of your skin, too light to scratch the surface. You are ready, itching with anticipation, desperate for the ache between your legs to be quelled, but before it reaches its destination, it veers of to the side, snaking its taunting vibrations along the insides of your thighs. Not where they're meant to be.
A groan of want erupts from your vocal cords, a pathetic, audible manifestation of all your sexual frustration and tension. It is torture, and just like Sam to add salt to the wound.
Your clit is throbbing, pulsing with need, and you can’t stop yourself from rocking into his pubic bone for a fragile semblance of relief.
At that—and in true Sam fashion—he pulls the vibe away completely, stealing a kiss before you can do so much as protest.
His free hand moves to tangle in the hair at the base of your skull and tugs with just enough force to let you know that he is in control. As if you didn't already know, as if you weren't already completely possessed by this man.
He’s throbbing now, too, you can feel it—aching inside you—yet his kiss is anything but urgent; it is controlled, completely deliberate, and utterly frustrating. You want to be devoured.
His tongue glides against yours at an agonizingly slow pace, and you have no choice but to let the feel and taste of him flood your senses, completely override your nervous system. He is soft, and sweet, and tender in all the right places, though sharp, hard, and demanding in equal measure, in a way that is so uniquely him, and the combination is intoxicating. Your own personal class A.
Is it possible to be addicted to a person? you wonder in earnest, because you're now certain that what you've been experiencing when you're away from him is nothing less than withdrawal symptoms.
When he finally pulls back, you are breathless, but his breath is steady. How does he do it? you wonder. Stay so calm? You suppose that is why he is such a good Dom for you: he is the gravity keeping you in orbit in an otherwise chaotic universe. The steadying force, keeping you from spinning out of control. Without him you’d either combust, or float around aimlessly like you had done for the past several years.
When you are least expecting it, Sam finally acquiesces, resting the shiny surface shyly against your swollen clit—so shyly that you are still forced to chase—and it drives you fucking crazy. You know how much satisfaction he derives from making you so uptight and needy, and the sound that leaves your body at that moment is bound to have pleased him with now desperate you sound.
Shifting your hips, you press up into him, wedging the vibe snugly between your bodies, and this time, he lets you. The rumble is ecstatic, and you gasp as the sensations take over, dissolving every rational thought inside your skull.
It doesn’t take long. After all that apprehension, you are a loaded gun; quite literally cocked and ready to blow.
Closing your eyes, you tilt your head back, and in pure ecstasy, release another high-pitched squeal of pleasure.
Sam laughs at that—actually laughs—and then it's his lips on your throat again, his voice in your ear.
"That's it, moan for me, baby. Ah—fuck—you're so tight, so close already, I can feel it. Come around my cock, princess. Yeah, that's it. My beautiful, beautiful girl..."
His words. His voice. His lips. His tongue on your neck. His cock inside you... It's all so... perfect. He's perfect. So—
You start to tremble uncontrollably, so overcome by all these emotions it would feel demeaning to name, and then it hits you, all at once, like a freight-train derailing, again, and again ...
“Fuck!” you scream, as your climax seizes you, grasping you by the throat and throttling you blue. And as quick as the first one leaves, another simmers in it's wake, surging towards you like a lightning bolt—sharp, intense, and impossible to escape.
As the high of the second also fades out, your head is left hazy with endorphins and you are sweating buckets despite the goosebumps that have also risen on your skin.
In addition to your dizzy satisfaction, you also feel clammy and sticky, your skin sticking to Sam's with the liquid heat of your combined bodies. It's undeniably gross, but Sam doesn't mind in the slightest. In fact, he can't seem to get enough.
"Sam—" you cry, trying but failing to bat him away as he returns the vibe to your clit, assaulting your bud with a force that makes you hiss through clenched teeth. "S-sensitive!"
"I know, baby," he says, and he does know, but he's also using his dom voice, and that can only mean one thing.
"C'mon, baby," he says, as you continue to squirm and squeal against him. "Please, let me give you another. You've got more in you, I know it."
"But Sam I—I can't—" you whine.
"Yes you can," he says adamantly. "You can, and you fucking will."
At that, you have no choice but to give in, clawing your nails into Sam's shoulders hard enough to mark as he turns the vibrations up to the max and tears well in your eyes and dribble down your cheeks.
You're so sensitive from your first two orgasms that the stimulation is almost painful, but you're also so enthralled by him that any pain you feel is secondary to the overwhelming pleasure you feel being at his command.
You could always safeword if you wanted, you both know you could, that's why he feels so comfortable in pushing you, and you in letting him. You do in fact have a choice; you always have with Sam. There's always a way out if you wanted; a way to escape this vulnerability, this powerlessness. But, despite yourself—despite everything—you don't.
Instead, you resume your chase, rocking your hips frantically into his to meet his demand, pushing yourself to the edge of overstimulation and then over, finally manifesting in a pleasure that is threefold and leaves you reeling in catharsis. In control. In power.
"That's it, baby," Sam growls, almost aggressive now in his devotion as you buck against the vibe, practically wailing his name as hot tears zizzle down your cheeks and evaporate against your skin.
"That's it. My good fucking girl. My perfect little slut. Fuck—you're so hot—screaming like that. Fuck—you're gonna make me come. Please," he groans. Pleads. Begs. His restraint finally fraying. It's always so satisfying to watch it break.
"Please make me come. Princess deserves it. Princess deserves all my cum."
And you're not a religious person by any means, but dear god, this... This feels like worship. Like reverence.
And sure as hell, it is enough to do it, and he is right. Again.
Is he always fucking right?
The tangled knot inside you frays, and then finally breaks, and you can't contain yourself any longer.
Whiteness spreads behind your eyes and your body trembles with an intense, visceral relief that leaves you unable to do anything but cling onto the only man that has ever made you feel weightless. Who knows you better than anyone should have the right to. Who always makes you feel powerful, even in vulnerability.
Gauging your reactions, Sam clings back, cradling you to his chest and rutting his hips upwards as you both come together in a writhing ball of orgasmic bliss.
A few, sweat-soaked minutes later, collapsed and tangled together in euphoria, Sam concedes with a grin, “Very effective, indeed.”
drooling honey — sam winchester
꒦꒷ kinktober day one ; finger sucking
cw : gn!afab!reader, smut, dom-ish!sam, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart), little bit of teasing, making out, finger sucking obviously, swearing, clit play, 1.1K words. MDNI !!! 18+ ONLY.
sam’s hands all over you is something you’ll never say no to. one envelopes the nape of your neck as he kisses you hard, and the other curls around your waist, squeezing and soothing as his tongue invades the warmth of your mouth. you hum into the kiss, pleased with having his tongue there.
you wrap your lips around it, giving it a small suck and making sam moan and squeeze your waist harder before you push your lips back against his. you’re feeling mouthy tonight, and not in the talkative way.
that cheeky action spurs sam further. he kisses you rougher and pulls you closer with the big hand on the back of your neck. you feel his teeth grazing your bottom lip, nipping at your soft skin. his tongue flicks out of your mouth to soothe over the spot, and his lips find yours again like they always, always do. god, sam kisses likes he’s trying to eat you whole.
“missed you, baby,” he whispers gruffly against the side of your mouth, lips brushing lightly over your skin. and he can never get enough, so his tongue slips from your lips to your jaw, then to the sweet spot at your pulse point. he loves the reaction that gets out of you every time. you practically keen into him, chest pressing against his and mouth falling open as you simultaneously mourn the loss of something to fill it with and moan at the pleasure of his lips latched to the skin of your neck. he sucks with a fervor, an intent to mark, and then splays his tongue out flat, tasting your skin and sweat. and of course, he can’t help but lightly rake his teeth over the spot too, making you grunt softly and tangle a hand in his hair.
the little tug you give at the nape of his neck draws out a pretty moan, and he moves further down your neck, nipping and licking and sucking his way to your collarbone. sam’s hand at the back of your neck shifts, cupping your cheek with barely contained intensity. when he places his hand there, you’ll often grab it and grip it for dear life or bring it to rest on your neck or chest.
what he doesn’t expect to feel is your teeth on the tip of his thumb. you’re not biting, but you’re staking a claim. and as he looks up from his spot at your collarbone, you dip your head closer, and take his thumb all the way into your mouth, eyes closing in bliss.
“god,” he chokes out, soft breath tickling your bare skin. his eyes almost roll back in his head when he feels you swirl your tongue around his thumb, just like you would with the tip of his cock. but this is different. the warm wet of your mouth around his thumb is new. it’s dirty and endearing all at once. and because he doesn’t pull away or protest, you suck on it with a fervor that makes sam wonder how long you’ve been wanting to do this. he’s fucking obsessed.
your head is still tilted awkwardly, so with his thumb still in your mouth and the rest of his hand splayed over your cheek and jaw, he pushes your whole face down back into the pillow. he’s not rough, but he’s not so gentle either.
“you look so pretty like this, honey,” he coos, and he immediately knows he’ll never be able to get enough of this. “my baby’s been wanting to suck on my fingers, huh?” he asks, voice gruff and sort of teasing, but entirely pleased and in love.
“mhmm,” you hum around his thick thumb, nodding once and giving him the sort of look that you know makes him go crazy. the pads of his fingers dig lightly into the side of your neck and his jaw clenches as he debates whether to fuck you now or just watch you get all worked up as he makes you suck on his fingers. you’re already squirming underneath him, and he can hear the little huffs of breath that you push out from your nose. it's easy for him to tell that this turns you on like almost nothing else.
your whine when he pulls his thumb from your mouth is truly pathetic. he had planned to be nice and give you something better; his long pointer and middle fingers. his thumb is nice, but not nearly as filling.
but your whine means that you’re getting greedy, so instead of sweetly slipping his fingers past your lips and teeth, sam shoves them in. they hit the back of your throat with ease, and you gag a little, unprepared. then, of course, you moan lowly at the roughness of it all.
“quit whining,” sam scolds, “i’m tryna be nice to you, baby.” his two fingers are long and heavy on your tongue, perfect to suckle on and moan and drool around.
“‘m sorry,” you mumble, voice throaty and words a little distorted because of his fingers. he can feel the saliva pooling in your mouth, threatening to soon spill over and dribble down your chin unless he moves his fingers away from your throat and lets you swallow. of course, he wants to see you all dirty and pathetic for him, absolutely relishing in the feeling of your drool slipping between his fingers and down his palm and your chin. he almost wants to bend down and lick the drool from your face.
“you’re so good, drooling for me, honey,” he croons, enraptured by the view in front of him. he’s been so focused on you sucking on his fingers that he’s almost forgotten about all else for a moment. his other hand has been squeezing and massaging and pawing at your waist as he watches you, but the knowledge that his fingers in your mouth have you so squirmy gives him a better idea.
“i bet you’re so wet for me,” he murmurs, fingertips dipping past the waistline of your sweatpants and underwear to prod at your entrance. you shiver and softly whine at the feeling, more drool slipping past your lips. “jesus, sweetheart, you’re soaked,” he groans. “you fucking love my fingers in your mouth, don’t you? bet you get wet just thinking about them there, huh?”
he’s completely right. just the thought of this makes you desperate for him. and the actual thing? it's sending you reeling, it's quieting your head and like this you think you'd let him do anything to you. the tip of your tongue gently pushes against the sensitive patch of skin right between his fingers and sam holds back a groan. his other hand gathers some of your slick, agonizingly slow and soft when he presses the pads of his fingers to your clit. you gasp before clamping your lips back around his fingers and sucking harder, drinking up the pleasure of it all.
“god, you’re gonna kill me, sweetheart,” he pants, immediately pressing harder against your pretty nub to make you moan and drool and arch your back for him. “i’m gonna fuck you, baby,” he tells you. “and you’re gonna suck on my fingers the whole time and it’s gonna make you cum so hard, isn’t it?”
𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - though on the road with dean, sam always comes home to you whatever chance he gets. this time, he feels he's been gone to long and when he finds you sleeping in only his shirt... he aches for you.
𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, dom!sam, sub!reader, p!v, sleepy sex, praise kink, reader mentioned to be smaller than sam, practically porn with no plot, gentle sex, unprotected sex, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷
exhaustion coated sam as he fished around in the back pocket of his jeans, looking for the spare key to your house. it was late and by now, the stars covered the sky. he knew you'd be asleep, that's why he didn't bother knocking.
the door opened silently and sam silently cursed you for leaving your hallway light on. he was always telling you to turn it off before bed but without him there... you felt safer with it on.
he kicked his boots off, not wanting to make a mess of your carpet and found himself walking up the stairs, switching the light off as he went. he tossed his bag somewhere by the top of the stairs, knowing he'd come back to it in the morning.
all that mattered now was well, you.
he opened the door of your bedroom. it was dark but he could still make out the silhouette of your body. your leg was propped up, practically cuddling the duvet. he could see a shirt enveloping your body, too big to be yours.
as he slid his shirt off, he found himself longing to feel you, to touch you. it'd only been a week since he was in this room last and yet it had felt like an eternity that he'd been deprived of your touch.
whenever sam came home after his trips, he'd slide his clothes off and get right into bed. which is exactly what he did now. he wasted no time in enveloping his large arms around your body, pulling you in close.
the smell of your shampoo made his eyes flutter closed and the scent of his own cologne against the sleep shirt you'd stolen from him made his lips quirk.
"sammy?" your voice was a quiet, soft mumble. he loved the way you sounded when you'd just woken, so vulnerable. perhaps he loved it so much because he knew you wouldn't be so vulnerable with anyone else. just him.
"'m here, sweetheart." he felt you move in his embrace. he loved holding you like this, he wished he could get impossibly closer, as if it were possible.
you moved so that you were facing his chest, slightly lower down in the bed than he was. "how was your hunt?" even in the dark, your hands trailed up his arms. he was wearing nothing but his boxers. but feeling his body, there was something about it that just assured you he was really there. "missed you."
"yeah? how much?" the man ignored your first question, his hands sliding around your own body.
you couldn't describe the soft feeling of when he'd come home, feeling him, knowing he was there while he did the same to you. it was rather... lovely.
you felt his fingers inch higher, trailing past the flimsy material of his own shirt on your body. suddenly, you felt the base of his fingers against your panties.
"sammy." you practically whimpered out, low and sleepy. "'m tired."
"i know, honey." you felt him move your hair with his free hands, pressing gentle, damp kisses against your neck. not the kind of kisses he usually left, sucking and leaving marks, roughly and making sure everyone knew you were his. no, this was different. he wasn't kissing you to leave any marks or to induce pleasure, even. he was kissing you so softly, to let you know you were safe with him. "you don' have to do anything, okay? jus' lay there 'n let me do the work, yeah?"
a soft, "okay." left your lips, though your mind was still half torn between sleep and wake.
"good girl." pressing the same, simple kiss to your cheek as his fingers hooked against your cotton panties. you could feel him drag them down against your legs but truthfully, your eyes had fallen shut, tiredness seeping into you.
he pushed his own boxers out of the way too, discarding the clothing against the ground before grabbing his dick in his hand.
if he were being honest, he'd felt himself harden the minute he'd seen your body, pretty cotton panties on show, hardly covered by his own shirt.
perhaps he was being territorial now, but there was something so aching about seeing you in his shirt. he knew you were his, that was a known fact, but seeing you like this, it lit a part of him ablaze.
he moved his hand up and down his shaft, making sure it was hard enough before maneuvering it up against your wet hole.
he didn't push in yet, gently testing the waters as he pushed the tip around your cunt, softly against your clit and finally back down to your sopping hole again.
"jus' relax, baby." littering kisses against your skin. "gonna do all the work."
the hum that left your lips was slick with tiredness but when he pushed himself in, he was met with a stuttered gasp that left your lips. a grunt left his own, usually a string of curses would accompany it.
but not tonight.
often, he'd spend the first few minutes teasing you as much as he could.
but not tonight.
"good girl." he mumbled against your forehead which he had kissed tenderly. "doin' s'good."
he didn't speak much tonight, which he usually did. usually, he couldn't get himself to stop talking. dirty words and the sounds of loud moans would bounce from wall to wall. now, the room was filled with only heavy breaths and lazy whimpers that could be heard from you, buried in the crook of his neck.
but he didn't need you to say anything either. the mere feeling was enough.
it was different than usual. the feeling was indescribable, how comfortable you were with him. the realisation of that on his part was something so riveting.
even now, between the twisted blankets of your bed. you were half asleep, hardly able to keep your eyes open and yet you trusted him with the most vulnerable thing that you could. he realised how protected you felt with him, his large body enclosing around yours, hands gentle against your waist while your head stayed hidden between his neck and shoulder.
your gentle breaths, tiniest of whimpers in his ears was enough for him.
and it didn't take him long to get close.
perhaps he really had been deprived of you.
your breath grew slightly more shallow. "sam." is all you could whimper out, he knew exactly what it'd meant.
"i know, baby." he all but whispered back. "'s okay, let go f'me."
and when you came undone around his cock, he felt himself do the same.
even when everything was done, when the feelings floated away into the air and everything was replaced by this heavy weight of tiredness, he stayed inside you for a few minutes. he stayed inside of you until finally, he realised he was going to fall asleep if he didn't move.
and when he did move out of you, he still kept you close. his large hands trailed up your body, holding it as close as humanly possible.
"really did miss you, sammy." you whispered in the utter darkness.
it was enough for him to think. to really think. perhaps the life he lived wasn't worth it. if he had to give everything up just for a few moments like his with you, then he would.
"missed you so much more, angel."
and with the soft movements of one another's breaths, you fell asleep rather quickly, unable to fight of the tiredness that washed over you both.
sam made sure you didn't leave his embrace until the sun began to rise over the horizon.
summary: you convince sam to take aphrodisiac candy with you which results in quite the plot twist
cw: 18+ smut.ᐟ pwp.ᐟ lowkey drug use [aphrodisiac].ᐟ dry humping.ᐟ teasing.ᐟ degradation.ᐟ dirty talking.ᐟ edging.ᐟ not letting you finish.ᐟ dom!sam.ᐟ maybe even brat tamer!sam.ᐟ
word count: 1.1k
masterlist | taglist | valentines masterlist
“come on sammy, pleaseee?” you pouted cutely, batting your lashes as you casually bounced up and down on his lap like a child trying to convince their parent to get their way.
“i… i’m not so sure about this babe..” sam’s brows frowned in uncertainty, but he held in a smile at how adorable you were.
“do you really think i wouldn’t do my research on these before buying them? they are 100% safeeee, i promise.” you tried to assure him, with a bit of an accidental whiny tone.
you shifted slightly on his lap, straddling him more comfortably.
sam sighed out softly, seeing how excited you were to try out these so called aphrodite’s tears – which were apparently aphrodisiac candies. and deep down, he was curious if they’d work at all.
“you promise they’re safe to eat?” he raised a brow.
“cross my heart.” you grinned, knowing your cute charm worked and that you had him wrapped around your finger now.
or so you thought.
“they had great reviews, many satisfied couples.” you couldn’t help but smirk subtly.
“fine.” sam rolled his eyes, but there was no way of hiding his growing smile. you were just too darn adorable.
“yay, which heart color do you want?” you opened up the little bag of candies to show him the options.
all pastels, so innocent looking – yet holding so much power.
“does it matter?” he asked genuinely curious.
you took a quick glance at the instructions at the back, reading it aloud. “white and yellow are the weakest, orange and green are a bit stronger aaand pink n purple are the strongest.”
“i’ll go for green, that’s medium right?”
“yep.” you handed him a green love heart shaped candy onto his hand. the little message writing ‘good boy’.
sam could not help but look at you amused, slightly shaking his head.
“i’ll go for purple.. like your t-shirt.” you grinned taking out a purple one for yourself, your little message writing ‘breed me’.
“you sure you wanna do that sweetheart?”
“i’ll be fine.” you shrugged it off before chewing on the heart candy, swallowing it and showing your tongue to him as proof that it’s too late cuz you’ve already ate it.
“we’ll see about that..” he chuckled, knowing damn well that you didn’t think this through carefully enough, then swallowing his own.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
“hnng- sammy..” you whined, already out of breath, the candy hitting your senses – hard.
sam’s thigh rested between your legs, trapping you underneath him. his hands on either side of your head.
you simply couldn’t control yourself, your hips were moving on their own, in a desperate attempt to get yourself off.
his jeans gave you the perfect friction against your thin cotton panties, you felt your clit rubbing against his thigh muscles, which sent your nervous system into pure bliss.
he’d purposely flex his thigh and bounce it just to hear your whimpers and moans slip past your pretty and swollen lips, which was his fault entirely since this whole situation started with making out.
“s-sammy..” you gave him a puppy pout, eyes completely blown out. your small hands gripped onto his t-shirt, trying to bring him closer.
you needed him, and you needed him badly – in the most worrying ways possible.
sam simply enjoyed your bad decision, the purple candy was definitely too strong for a small girl like you.
so why not tease you about it now? teach you a little lesson.
“whaaat?” he mocked your whine.
“sweet little thing like you can’t handle the purple candy?” sam cooed into your ear, bouncing his thigh roughly enough to force another needy cry out of you.
“oh god please.. i- i need you..” you squirmed underneath his touch. your skin felt like it was in flames, and he was the only one that could take out that said fire.
you could feel your whole pussy pulsing, begging to be filled, played with, anything. your nipples so hard that the tank top had no chance of hiding them peaking through.
“oh yeah?” he chuckled, his hand sliding under your tank top, pushing it up enough so his thumb could play with your hardened nipple.
“mhm~” you gasped out, nodding your head eagerly.
“hmm, i don’t think i’m convinced much.” he shrugged off your pleading.
“sam!” you whined out like a bratty, needy little thing that you currently were.
“you wanted this sweetie, now take what i give you or i’ll leave you high n dry – and alone with your hand.” sam smirked, flicking your nipple, making you jolt.
“you’re so fuckin mean.” he indeed was, you were dripping wet and ready to take him, but he was too busy being a meanie.
“cry me a river sweetheart.” sam mockingly pouted.
your cheeks were flushed, eyes dazed, hips kept on rolling, rubbing your sensitive clit at a delicious speed that had you chasing your climax.
your eyes teared up in frustration when you felt that you couldn’t quite push yourself over the edge with simply his thigh.
sam noticed your sexually frustrated tears and just smirked, fully enjoying the needy mess that you’ve become.
“what’s the matter baby? can’t make yourself cum?” he cooed into your ear before gently biting onto the soft flesh of your neck.
“my thigh not enough f’you?” he let out a mean chuckle.
“you’d rather be bouncing on my cock huh?” his hand found it’s way in between your legs, his long fingers sliding your panties to the side before slipping inside your wet cunt.
the wet sounds that came from your pussy were absolutely absurd, “jesus.. you’re so fuckin wet.” he chuckled.
“you probably wanna be filled up right about now hm? feel ever inch of my cock inside you?” sam slowly pumped his two fingers in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit, making your legs shake – the candy made you so sensitive and horny to the point you started sobbing at how good it felt.
“y-yes.. please..” you begged, your blown out puppy eyes teary and rolling to the back of your head, you swear you were away to cum right then…
only if sam didn’t suddenly take his hand away.
leaving you empty, shaking and away to have a full on tantrum.
“actually…” he licked his fingers clean before continuing to speak.
“i changed my mind. m’just gonna do some more research about that vengeful spirit.” sam grinned, standing up and leaving you sprawled out on the motel bed, to sit down at the kitchen table with the lore books and his laptop.
sam knew what he was doing to you.
but he couldn’t help himself, especially when you’re so reactive. he just loved playing with you like that.
and eventually, he did make you cum – over and over again, until you begged him to stop and go to sleep.
maybe the purple candy indeed ended up being way too strong for you.
or maybe aphrodite was just one cruel mistress.
thank you my lovely for taking ur time to check out my work, it means the world to me <3
𓍯𓂃 testing times || sam winchester x fem!reader 𓍯𓂃
➶ warnings: HEAVY smut (18+), dirty talking, slight dom!sam, unprotected p in v (cloak the joker before you poke her), exhibitionism if you squint, established relationship, fluffy ending
➶ summary: a never-ending week long hunt and a shared motel room with the winchester brothers makes you test poor sam's self-control, but you might not be in as much control as you think...
➶ word count: 3.4k (i'm so sorry, this was meant to be short)
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“Oh god, Sammy.”
Sam’s left hand flew to cover your mouth as his tip hit that deep spot that made your insides go hot and gooey. His hand was sweaty against your mouth as he tried to stifle your moans with each deep thrust of his hips.
Normally, the younger Winchester brother would take care of you in a bed cushioned by soft pillows and blankets, where you’d be warm, alone, and allowed (read: encouraged) to make as much noise as you both wanted. That was his favourite setting. But you were a week into a hunt with no end in sight, and you’d been particularly needy (and mean) today, teasing Sam by grazing your hand across his chest and biceps, bending over in front of him a lot, and saying his name in a particular way that you knew got him hard and just as desperate as you were.
Sam, usually the king of self-restraint, finally cracked when you announced later that night that you were going outside to get your phone charger and walked past the brothers seated at the little wooden table in the two bedroom motel room - Sam typing away on the computer and Dean busily reading a book the size of an encyclopedia on possible monsters that could remove the bones from a body without cutting the skin. You’d leant down to kiss Sam on the cheek (so that Dean wouldn’t hear a thing) and whispered in his ear about the wet dream you’d had last night where you could feel his cock pulsing deep in your throat as you sucked him off on your knees in the bunker library.
He’d stiffened as soon as he heard you walking towards him, attempting to brace for whichever way you were about to torment him, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the absolute filth that came from your mouth while his brother was seated only across the table. When you had leant down and whispered in Sam’s ear, his jaw and cock twitched with a sharp breath intake. Smirking at his noticeable reaction, you promptly walked away with a little swing in your hips and out the door. Sam’s eyes darted to his brother to see if he’d heard your dirty mouth, but Dean seemed too absorbed in the book in front of him, tapping the pen he held in his left hand back and forth while his tongue poked slightly out.
Sam waited a beat after the door clicked shut before accidentally closing the laptop a little too hard, getting up (while trying to cover his obvious hard-on), and walking out after you. He stormed towards the Impala as you grabbed the cold car door handle to open the backseat and reach in for your charger. Before you could even fully open it, Sam reached you and slammed the door shut, spinning you around so that you were facing him.
“Sammy…” you drawled, giving him your best puppy eyes as he pressed you firm against the door, making sure you knew damn well how hard he was. His left hand was pushed against the doorframe by your shoulder and his right hand grabbed your waist, kneading the flesh on your hip. His brow was firmly locked as he stared darkly into your face. He was so close that his cologne filled your nose and throat, a heated mixture of cypress and grapevine that went straight to your core. You wanted to lick him.
“Sammy,” you repeated with a head tilt, “are you okay?” You snaked your hands around the back of his neck, running your fingers through his hair. It was really soft. “You look like something’s bothering you.” A tug on the hair at the nape of his neck made his face falter and jaw clench - you couldn’t hide your growing smirk at his reaction. Sam regained some semblance of self-control and stared at you like he was thinking something over, which he was - he was debating whether he should risk just bending you over the hood of the Impala and railing you with your ankles above your head where anyone could walk out and see you both. But Sam was mostly a gentleman, so without so much as a word, he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the back of the motel where neither passing car headlights from the road nor the motel’s streetlights reached.
His hot hands firmly guided your hips into the wall, your skin prickling at the sensation as your head bumped into the cold bricks. You shivered as he stood flush against you, both of you breathing heavily and quickly. Heated breaths floated in the small space between the two of you, moonlit in the cold winter night. You looked up at Sam, feeling a little nervous after seeing the look in his eyes. Maybe you had pushed him a little too far this time…
He chuckled gruffly as he said your name, “I feel like I could eat you right now.” Heat rushed to your face as his forearm moved to rest by the right side of your face, his other hand resuming the kneading of the flesh on your hips. You felt a gush fall from your insides and instinctively rolled your hips into him. Sam closed his eyes and groaned at the movement. “You,” he dipped his face and ghosted his lips over your neck, “are such a fucking tease.” His breath was hot against your skin, making you squirm. You let out a shaky breath and gripped the front of his hoodie, squeezing your legs together to relieve the heat glowing between your thighs. His closeness and scent made your head spin.
A whine escaped your chest as Sam moved his left hand to grab the side of your jaw and bite your neck. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sammy,” you responded with what little confidence you had left. Sam laughed meanly against your neck, pressing his right knee in between your legs and pinning them apart. Your hips bucked at his roughness, your head rolling upwards to the night sky. “Don’t try to act clueless now, baby”. His right hand lifted your shirt slightly, his touch burning across your bare skin as he began slowly trailing across your hips to your navel, before moving even slower down to your heat. “I’m giving you exactly what you wanted.”
His fingertips unbuttoned your jeans and pulled down the zipper. Your breathing hitched at the metal sound. “Tell me I’m wrong.” You could feel his fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear, the cold temperature hitting your core and making your fingertips tingle. Sam’s face moved steadily away from your neck to gaze at your face, pulling your jaw down from the sky to look at him. “You talked a lot of game today.” His tone was silky but his pupils were blown wide, thumb dragging against your bottom lip. “Let’s see if you can play.”
You were so fucked.
When Sam finally kissed you, you almost started sobbing. The kiss was deep, hungry, and messy - his lips warm but bruising and rough against yours. Hands were desperately grabbing at clothing and skin. You both moaned at the other’s touch after the long buildup of the day. His knees moved to cage you as his tongue pushed into your mouth; it was hot, heavy, dominating, and frustrated. He tasted like mint and warm brown sugar.
Gasps reverberated off the motel’s brick wall, neither of you wanting to breathe unless it was the air from the other’s lungs. Sam’s hips rolled into your arched body, his hard cock pressing deep into your barely clothed core through his jeans, pulling broken whimpers from both of you. You felt like you were ascending to some place higher than heaven, Sam’s pulsing body the only thing capable of keeping you grounded. Your hands pushed back on his waist, making him groan at the loss of contact between your lips - a string of saliva between your mouths - as you began dropping to your knees. He lunged at you, grabbing your wrists before your knees touched the grassy earth and pulling you back up. Your wrists were pinned firmly against your chest by his left hand and he tutted. “As much as I want my cock down your throat, sweetheart, we can act out your dream when we get home. Right now, though,” he looked down hungrily at your heat, “I need to be inside you.”
You were panting when Sam’s gaze returned to your face. His eyes were practically black - he looked possessed, the whites of his eyes shining ever so slightly like a halo. His right hand returned to the waistband of your underwear, jeans still sitting open on your hips. Your hands twitched, hips bucking into him as his index and middle fingers ghosted your clit, dragging slowly down to your entrance. “God, you’re so wet,” he crooned, his forehead rested against yours. Your jaw went slack as he touched you through your soaked underwear, his fingers rubbing up and down your slit so calculatedly it made your knees buckle. “Sammy…” you moaned, staring up at him with desperate and glassy eyes, and he leant down to cover your mouth with his.
He slipped his two long fingers past your underwear and into your heat, eliciting a pornographic cry from your chest Sam stifled with his tongue. He chuckled at your reaction - you were always so receptive for him and it made him feel like a king (and extremely bricked). He kissed you deeper, getting off on the sensation of your dripping heat clenching around his fingers. He gave you two blissful thrusts of his fingers before quickly withdrawing them, making you whine and your eyebrows scrunch at his movement.
“That’s mean,” you warned breathlessly. Your arms were still pinned tight to your chest, and you were starting to feel a little powerless. Sam only made this worse when he brought his fingers glistening with your slick up to his mouth, pausing to make sure you were watching him, and sucked them clean. Your eyes went wide, a small pathetic sound left your lips at his action. “You’re lucky I’m letting you have my cock after the way you behaved today,” he drawled cruelly. “Making me have to palm myself after you…” Sam squeezed his brow and eyes shut, groaning and rocking his hips into the air at the memory of your relentless teasing during the day. He saw your smugness when he opened his eyes and cursed. “Anyway,” he continued hoarsely, his right hand sliding up and down the curve of your waist, “you’re telling me you don’t want my cock buried in your guts right now?” The smirk instantly fell from your face at his words. He saw it. “Mmm, that’s what I thought, sweetheart.”
He released your arms from your chest as his hands flew to grip and guide your jaw in a passionate and sloppy kiss. You both rolled your hips into each other before his hands feverishly grabbed at your jeans to pull them down. Your now freed hands moved just as desperately to unbutton his jeans and drag down his boxers.
Kissing down to suck on his slacking jaw, you briefly palmed his cock with one hand and cupped his balls with the other through his underwear to tease him, wanting to feel him throb and make him whimper (which he did). He whined your name in a warning before you pulled down his boxers to let them pool at his ankles with his jeans. Sam was quite the sight to see - his thick and slightly angled cock pulsed with each inhale, precum dripped sweetly from his rounded tip. The white full-moon in the night sky made it shine and sent heat straight to your gut.
You shimmied out of your baggy jeans and quickly removed your drenched underwear. When you stood back up, he again pressed you flush to the brick wall, fisting his cock in his right hand before running it through your slick folds. Both of you groaned. Panting and feeling like your body was about to ignite, you turned around and pushed out your ass. Sam smirked at the scene, “So that’s how you want this to go?” His body moved to shape perfectly to yours, his left hand falling to your hip while his right traced a soft circle on the nape of your neck. You gave him a sly smile over your right shoulder before turning your head to kiss him.
“Yes, please.” You hummed sweetly.
“Anything for you.”
When Sam’s cock slid inside you, you both moaned explicitly into each other’s mouths. “Oh, sweetheart…” he groaned hotly next to your ear. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think or move. All you could do was let out a strangled sound of pleasure and neediness. You knew exactly how pathetic you sounded, but you couldn’t care less. You were exactly where you wanted to be - pinned to Sam’s muscular chest radiating heat, gasping on the tips of your toes with his cock buried deep in your heat, and his hips pressed roughly against your ass. His hungry thrusts into your core started a couple seconds after he bottomed out, grunting in your ear about how soft and warm you were and how pretty you sounded. His movements were sharp, a little punishing to tell you he was the one in control (was he really, though?). Drool dribbled from your mouth down your jaw, every roll of Sam’s hips raising another broken whimper out of you. Sam wasn’t any quieter.
He licked a stripe from your collarbone up to your ear, making you pulse around his cock. He felt it.
So that was how you ended up in this rather compromising position. Your forearms were pressed against the cold bricks, your head dipped between your arms like you were deep in prayer, possibly asking for forgiveness from the man absolutely drilling into you from behind. Your mind was completely numb from pure pleasure and bliss, tears burning hot in your eyes. Sam’s cock hit that gooey spot again, making you moan so loud despite his hand still gripping your mouth that your throat hurt and your eyes rolled so far back into your skull you saw stars. “Shhhhh, baby”, he groaned in your ear as he kept thrusting, “I’ll have to stop if you keep moaning like that”. But you and Sam both knew he wouldn’t stop. Not until you were clenching around his cock, cumming hard and sweetly.
Your head felt so high you couldn’t respond. Each stroke was more heated, more desperate, more feral than the last. Your legs were shaking violently with every slam of Sam’s forceful hips as he continued to fuck you, your legs threatening to give way. He was so warm, so consuming behind you. Your skin was tingling with Sam’s heavy grunting as he leaned into you, resting his forehead on your shoulder and pressing his chest firmly into your back. You felt a searing heat sparking in your core, the coil begging to snap. Sam could feel your breathing quicken against his hand. “You close?”, he groaned your name lowly in your ear, “Yeah you are.”
You try to moan Sam’s name as tears start to burn down your cheeks, but he’d fucked all the air out of your lungs. All you could do was lift your head and let it roll back onto Sam. He moved his hand to the side of your mouth to let you take a quick small breath. “Go on baby”, he grunted as his hand returned to cover your mouth, his thrusts quickening as you both feel your orgasm about to ruin you, “cum for me.”
Your body seized as you came, screaming into his hand, a hot gush pouring from deep within you as you clenched around Sam’s cock. “Good girl”. You could hear from his voice he was smirking so fucking proudly. “That’s my good girl.”
You were so fucked out, heat spreading through your body to your fingertips as you started to go limp. Sam moved his left arm from your mouth, confident you would no longer alert the motel neighbours to your activities, to hug the front of your shoulders close to him. His thrusts became erratic as your orgasm quelled, and one particular falter of his hips told you he was about to cum. Sam was trying so hard to muffle his moans by biting your shoulder, but they kept slipping past and escaping into the dark night. “Please, Sammy,” you whined, “please cum inside me.” Sam’s forehead and eyes squeezed shut as he stilled, a lewd sound ripping from his chest with his cock twitching as he came deep and desperate inside you. The white hot liquid made your insides sticky as he rode out his high with a couple slow grinds. Both of you stood there when he finished his movements, panting hotly into the cold air as you both tried to regain your breathing. He kissed the right side of your neck sweetly, his left hand rubbing your shoulder gently.
“I love you”, you and Sam whisper in sync. Both of you laughed before Sam groans quietly and you wince at the sensation of your insides clenching around his semi-hard cock still buried in your core. He took a deep breath, “I’m gonna pull out, okay?” He quickly kissed your right cheek as he slowly left your warmth.
He took a few steps back, pulling out a couple tissues from his front pocket. You turn around and look at him, your eyes narrowing. “I promise they’re clean,” he says, showing the plastic packaging for your approval. You nod and he bends down to your heat to carefully swipe away your collective mess. Once he finishes, Sam pulls up his jeans and quickly scans around for a bin - half-walking, half-sprinting to it once he spots it to dispose of the dirty tissues before returning to you as you button up your jeans.
He looked down into you, his left hand returning to hold the side of your jaw tenderly as he leans down to kiss you. It was soft and sweet - you melt a little into him. “I should tease you like that more often,” you grin into the kiss and giggle, giving his ass a smack. He raises his eyebrows in a challenge, amused. “You, sweetheart”, he returns your smile, “are going to be the death of me.”
Snaking your arm around his to hold onto his bicep, you walk back together to the motel room. You lean into him and sigh, his arm feeling strong and warm against your tired body, and his cologne embracing you like a gentle wind. As much as you’d enjoyed the last however many minutes outside, you really couldn’t wait for a hot shower, and to cuddle and fall asleep with Sam in a warm bed.
Sam, ever the gentleman (I did say he was mostly one) opened the shared motel room door and motioned for you to enter first. You beamed up at him and ducked under his arm, walking into the room a little like a baby giraffe taking its first steps. He followed in behind you and closed the door, kissing the top of your head and giving you a quick squeeze as you look towards Dean who was still deep in focus and showing no sign of noticing either of you entering the room. As Sam locks the door, Dean huffs and shuts the book in front of him with a thud, “You two get that charger?” Both you and Sam stilled, unsure if you should be looking at Dean or away from him.
“Ummm…” you started.
“It’s alright, love bunnies”. Dean coos, pushing his chair back lazily and standing up with a stretch. He makes no eye contact as he grabs a towel hung near the heater and walks past the both of you towards the bathroom. “Next time you guys want some alone time”, he pauses in the bathroom doorway and looks back at you and Sam with a fake smile, his head tilting, “just fucking tell me.”
Dean closes the door, the sound of the shower starting in the next room over. You and Sam turn to each other, both a little flushed from embarrassment, before grinning at each other.
“Better go get my charger…”
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DEANY BABY i'm so sorry. promise i'll make it up to you in the next fic.
let me know if this was not filthy enough, it's been a little too long since i last wrote and i too feel like a baby giraffe taking its first steps.
summary. the only thing that didn’t change about sam when he lost his soul was his appetite for you.
pairing. soulless!sam winchester x reader ( f )
wordcount. 906 genre. smut !!
warnings. explicit sexual content, sam is soulless and a fucking beast (canon-typical lack of empathy/consent boundaries are blurry), rough sex, unprotected sex (guys pls dont mimick this), dirty talk (a lot of it, very filthy), degradation, spanking, mild exhibitionism, possessiveness
masterlist˖ ݁♬⋆.˚ now playing ၊၊||၊ evolve by 5 seconds of summer
The motel door hadn’t even clicked shut before Sam was on you.
No hello. No “hey, missed you.” Just his big hands sliding under your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing, and your back hitting the cheap wallpaper with a thud that knocked the framed desert print crooked. His mouth crashed into yours, hungry, filthy, zero pretense.
This was the new Sam in his natural habitat: zero guilt, zero filter, one hundred percent impulse.
“Been hard since Nebraska,” he muttered against your lips, already grinding the thick line of his cock against your core through two layers of denim. “Three days. Too fucking long.”
You laughed breathlessly, fingers twisting in that stupidly perfect hair. “Most people text.”
“Most people are boring.” He bit your bottom lip, tugged, let it snap back. “You want boring, or you want me to fuck you until you forget Dean’s even in the next room?”
Your body answered before your mouth could. Hips rolling up, thighs clamping around his waist, a shameless moan slipping out when he laughed, low and dark.
“That’s what I thought.”
Jeans gone in record time. His. Yours. Didn’t matter who yanked what. Sam didn’t believe in slow when he was like this; he believed in now. He spun you, bent you over the dresser, and the mirror gave you a front-row seat to six-foot-four of shameless hedonist dragging his tongue up your spine.
“Look at you,” he said, voice rough, meeting your eyes in the reflection. “Already soaked and I’ve barely touched you. Tell me you didn’t spend the whole drive here thinking about my cock.”
You pushed back against him, felt him hot and heavy against your ass. “Maybe I did.”
“Dirty girl.” He slapped your ass once, sharp, perfect sting. “Say it louder.”
“I thought about your cock the whole fucking drive, Sam.”
“Atta girl.”
Two thick fingers pushed inside you without warning, curling just right, and your forehead hit the mirror with a thump. He didn’t ease you into it; he never did anymore. Just crooked his fingers, scissored them, thumb flicking your clit until your legs shook.
“Gonna come already?” he taunted, pumping faster. “We haven’t even started.”
You managed a glare in the mirror. “Then quit teasing and fuck me.”
He grinned, feral, pulled his fingers out, and sucked them clean right where you could watch. “Love when you boss me around. Makes me wanna ruin you.”
He lined up and slammed home in one brutal thrust.
The sound you made was unholy. So was the one he made, head dropping between his shoulder blades, hips snapping like he’d been starving for it. The dresser rattled against the wall hard enough that Dean definitely heard it next door; neither of you cared.
“Fuck, that’s it,” Sam groaned, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “Take it. Take every inch like you were fucking made for it.”
You were. God, you were. He filled you so perfectly it hurt in the best way, every stroke dragging against that spot that turned your brain to static. Your palms squeaked against the mirror as you tried to brace yourself, but he wasn’t having it. One hand snaked around, pinned both your wrists above your head, the other sliding down to rub tight circles on your clit.
“Uh-uh. You don’t get to hide. Wanna watch your face when you fall apart on my cock.”
“Sam—”
“Say it. Tell me who this pussy belongs to while I’m balls deep.”
“You,” you gasped. “It’s yours, it’s always fucking yours—”
“Damn right.”
He fucked you harder, relentless, the headboard next door starting to thump in what was absolutely Dean banging it in protest. Sam just laughed, breath hot against your ear.
“Hear that? Big brother’s pissed he’s not getting any. Too bad. This cunt’s mine tonight.”
The dirty talk, the angle, his fingers; everything blurred into white-hot pressure. You came with a cry that probably woke half the motel, clenching around him so tight his rhythm stuttered.
“Jesus—fuck—” He buried himself deep and let go, pulsing inside you, hips jerking through it until he had nothing left to give.
For a second the only sound was both of you panting, his forehead pressed between your shoulder blades. Then he pulled out slow, smirking at the mess he’d made of you, and spun you around for a kiss that was somehow dirtier than the sex.
He tasted like sin and zero regrets.
“Round two in the shower?” he asked, already walking backward, dragging you with him by the wrist. “Wanna eat you out against the tile. Then maybe the hood of the car. Been thinking about bending you over the Impala all week. Dean’ll live.”
You rolled your eyes, but you were already following, legs still shaky. “You’re an animal.”
“Nah, baby.” He kicked the bathroom door shut, flicked the light on, and dropped to his knees in one fluid motion, looking up at you with that cocky, soulless grin that made your knees weak all over again. “I’m just finally having fun.”
And somewhere in the back of your mind, the chorus played on a loop:
I know that I lost all control…
To lo-lo-lo-lo-love you, I got to evolve.
But right now, with Sam Winchester’s tongue tracing filthy promises up your thigh and zero plans to stop until sunrise, evolution could wait.
You had a devil on his knees, and you were gonna let him worship.
ꔛ. all works ; writing guidelines ; support my work .ᐟ
warnings: Smut, dom!sam, dirty talk, unprotected sex (big no no), and other stuff
song -> 𖹭.ᐟ
Authors note: need this man so bad I'm literally clawing at the walls like a rabid raccoon. (Not proofread
Your face was buried in the pillows, cheek flushed against the cool cotten, your body trembling underneath Sam's. Every breath comes in shallow, needy gasps, and your thighs are slick, overstimulated, barely able to hold your weight. But he's still there—still buried deep inside of you, moving with a rhythm so devastatingly perfect it leaves you wrecked and wanting all at once.
He's fucking you deep and deliberate. Slow enough to make your toes curl with every drag of him against your walls, but fast enough that you gasp, broken and breathless each time he snaps his hips forward.
"Sam—" your voice is hoarse, almost pleading, but your body begs louder, arching into his every movement like your bones know he's the only thing keeping you grounded.
He leaned down over your back, heat radiating off of his skin, chest pressed against your spine as he groans into your shoulder. His hand wraps around your waist, anchoring you in place as his hips keep rolling—fucking into you with all the reverence of a man in church. Worshipful. Possessive. Like you're the only thing he believes in anymore.
"Look at you," he murmured, voice a gravelly whisper right against your ear. "So damn beautiful like this. My sweet girl. You feel that, baby? Feel your pretty pussy squeezing me so fucking tight."
You whimper, completely at his mercy. Your fingers are tangled in the sheets, clutching them like a lifeline. He everywhere—his hands on your skin, his breath in your ear, his cock dragging against every swollen, aching inch inside of you. The kind of fucking that leaves you drunk on sensation, high on him.
"I can feel you shaking," he says, lips brushing against your shoulder. "So fucking wet. So tight. You gonna come for me again?" The words that roll off his tongue are thick, dirty. Making you clench around him even tighter.
You can't even speak—just nod, moaning softly as he angles his hips just right and hits that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes, The pressure builds again, blinding and sharp and sweet all at once, like your body is trying to catch up to everything he’s giving you. You’re gone for him. Gone.
Sam groans, the sound guttural and deep in his chest as he feels you start to unravel. “That’s it,” he breathes, his pace stuttering for just a moment. “That’s my girl. Come on. Let go for me, baby.”
And you do—crying out his name, back arching as your body locks up around him. Wave after wave crashes over you, your climax stealing the air from your lungs, and still he’s there. Still inside you. Still moving. Drawing every last drop of pleasure from your ruined, trembling body like he needs it.
By the time he follows, it’s with a growl torn from his throat, hips pressed flush against you as he buries himself deep, spilling into you with a shudder. He stays like that for a moment—one arm snug around your waist, the other propping himself up as he catches his breath against your shoulder.
“You okay?” he whispers after a minute, lips ghosting over your spine.
You nod weakly, eyes fluttering closed as he finally pulls out and lays beside you, pulling you into his chest. Arms wrapped around you like you’re something fragile, precious. A soft hum rumbling in his chest as he presses a soft kiss to your temple, hand gently stroking your thigh that's still twitching from the aftershocks.
"You're unreal," he murmured. "And all mine, my sweet girl."
⛧ sam’s the type to look calm until he isn’t
→ his dominance isn’t loud like dean’s — it’s restrained, simmering beneath the surface until you push him too far. then the switch flips: his voice drops, his hands tighten, and suddenly you’re not a problem — you’re his problem to handle.
→ his patience is dangerous. he’ll edge you for hours, watching you fall apart, keeping you trembling and needy just because he can. but when the control slips? he’s relentless, fucking you like he’s been starving for years.
⛧ sam gets almost cruel with his teasing
→ he’ll hold you open with those huge hands, making you beg, murmuring, “you can take it, sweetheart. you were made for me.” and the worst part is — you believe him, because when sam says it, it’s not just dirty talk. it’s conviction.
→ he lives for watching you crumble under him: tears streaking your cheeks, nails digging into his skin, your voice cracking around his name. that’s when the soft, gentle sam you know dissolves into something darker, hungrier, rougher.
⛧ sam is obsessed with marking you
→ bruises blooming on your hips, scratches raked down your back, his teeth sunk into your shoulder. he gets off on leaving proof. and god help anyone who notices — because that’s the point. he wants the world to know you’re his.
→ he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he adores the sting. biting, spanking, tugging your hair — just enough to make you gasp. the sight of his teeth marks on your throat or the red imprint of his hand on your ass makes him groan low in his chest, pride heavy in the sound.
⛧ sam’s possessive streak is feral when he thinks he could lose you
→ after hunts, fights, or even when someone looks at you too long — that’s when he snaps. he’ll slam you against the nearest wall, take what’s his, and make damn sure you remember it.
→ those nights, the breeding kink claws its way out. he’ll fuck you raw and deep, spilling inside you again and again, then push it back in with his fingers like he can keep you full forever. sometimes he makes you keep it in — panties pulled up after sex, smug as you squirm at the mess dripping down your thighs.
⛧ sam is shameless with his size kink
→ he loves the stretch, the struggle, the breathless way you whisper that he won’t fit — and he thrives on proving you wrong every single time. he knows the power of what he’s packing, and the thought of ruining you with it drives him insane.
→ but the part that undoes him most is the prep. stretching you out on his fingers, watching you tremble, whispering, “almost there, sweetheart… just a little more.” he touches you like you’re something sacred, terrified of hurting you. the first push inside always rips a curse from his throat, because no matter how many times, you’re still impossibly tight. he strokes your face as he eases in, eyes locked on yours, silently begging for your permission.
⛧ with sam, it’s not just sex — it’s hunger
→ he takes you like he’s starving, like he can’t breathe without you. and he needs you just as obsessed in return — clawing at him, begging, chasing him over and over until you’re both wrecked.
⛧ sam’s mouth is lethal
→ he devours you like he has something to prove, holding your hips down while his tongue drags you into overstimulation. but nothing makes him lose it faster than your mouth on him — your lips stretched around his cock, tears in your eyes as you gag a little, looking up at him. his head tips back, groaning, “fuck, you take me so well.”
→ and it’s not just what his mouth does — it’s what it says. sam talks filth like no one else. “look at you, spread out for me. such a good slut for my cock, aren’t you? bet you’d let me ruin you anywhere, anytime.” then he’ll blindside you with praise so sweet it knocks the breath out of you. his angel. his everything. his only. while he’s pounding into you like he’s trying to break you.
→ when he praises, it’s devastating. his voice in your ear, steady and low: “that’s it, good girl, you’re doing so well for me.” until you’re dizzy, crying, clinging to every word like oxygen.
⛧ sex with sam is overwhelming in every sense
→ you cry because of the sheer intensity of his love; he cries because he can’t believe he deserves yours. it’s raw, messy, sweat-slick, almost holy. and afterwards, he cages you in his arms like you’ll vanish if he lets go.
⛧ sometimes sam just needs you
→ the weight of the world, the guilt, the endless sacrifices — it breaks him down. and when it does, he needs soft. he buries his face in your neck, whimpering for more, kisses wet and desperate. his big hands can’t decide whether to clutch or caress. he comes undone when you let him collapse into you, when he doesn’t have to be the strong one, when he can just be yours.
⛧ sam’s aftercare is almost devastating in its tenderness
→ for every filthy, depraved thing he does, there’s an equal and opposite gentleness. after breathplay, he strokes your throat softly. after spanking, he kisses where it stings. after overstimulation, he whispers how proud he is of you. he balances his darkness with devotion like nobody else.
→ he spoils you with soft touches: warm cloths, water, massaging sore spots where he held too tight. he tucks you into his chest like you’re something holy, his big hand stroking your hair as you come back down. sometimes he just breathes you in, grounding himself in the truth that you’re here, you’re his, you’re safe.
author's note: i tried not to go too crazy with these but i have to be honest... i'm ovulating so i'm losing my mind rn i need him sooooo bad. anywayssssss i hope you guys enjoyed them. i'm working on a dean version AND something a little longer w sammy and some very self indulgent scenarios btw... as always, feel free to leave any feedback and/or thoughts!! love youuu
choccy filling @crossinisquirt - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
