LOOK! Look! Obviously there is a lot to be said about the fight... but I want to take a moment to appreciate Temari masturbating against a door (just like Shikamaru did in Go Easy). We love character parallels!
super good point! too turned on to make it five feet to the bed!
Summary: Sam’s hiding a part of himself from his new, inexperienced girlfriend, but maybe he doesn’t have to.
Rating: 18+ (Smut)
Tags: teasing, flirting, mentions of virginity, mentions of liking younger women, angst, mentions of BDSM, Dom/sub vibes, mild BDSM, bondage, fingering, p in v
WC: ± 2.8K
A/Ns: This was commissioned by someone who would like to remain anonymous! Hope you like it!
Sam Winchester Masterlist
“So, how did you two meet again?”
There’s a sparkle in Dean’s green eyes that Sam knows only too well means that Dean hasn’t forgotten at all, and he’s only asking the question for one reason; to tease the living fuck out of him.
“Urm, at the college library,” Y/N replies softly, clearing her throat and offering his brother a polite smile as she reaches for her glass of wine.
“Of course you did,” Dean chuckles, “so you’re one of these brainy young professors too?”
“Urr…” Y/N glances nervously at him, and Sam knows it’s his turn to step in and save her.
“No, actually, Y/N is a student,” Sam needlessly reminds his brother, unashamedly.
The smirk instantly curls over Dean’s lips as he chuckles, shaking his head. “A student, Sammy? You’ve been working there for two months and you’re already sleeping with the students, why am I not surprised?”
Sam’s brow instantly pulls into a frown as he shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that, De,” he protests, looking over to see Y/N is also confused by Dean’s comment.
“What does he mean?” she asks, blinking at him.
“Nothing,” Sam insists. “He’s just being an ass.”
Dean continues to chuckle, reaching for his beer and taking a long swig before swallowing hard and licking his lips. “Listen, we can just address the elephant in the room, okay?” he grins, looking between them.
“Dean, no,” Sam warns, hoping his brother will realise he is barking up the wrong tree completely right now and will back off.
“Oh c’mon, Sammy, we shared a bedroom wall long enough for me to know what you’re into. You’re hardly shy about it. And we’re all adults here… at least…” his eyes land back on Y/N, and Sam’s jaw clenches.
“Jesus, Dean, she’s more than legal,” Sam grunts, wishing his legs were just a few inches longer so he could kick his brother under the table.
“Relax, I’m teasing you both,” Dean laughs easily, lounging back in his chair with his beer in hand.
Sam glares over at his older brother for a moment, before looking across at Y/N to make sure she’s okay. She seems a little flustered, but before he can reach out to take her hand in hopes of relaxing her a little, she rises to her feet and softly excuses herself. Sam watches her leave, heading towards the bathroom, and then turns his attentions back to his brother.
“Seriously, dude?” he huffs. “Now she probably thinks I’m some pervert.”
“Well, from what I’ve heard–”
“Dean, I’m serious,” Sam interrupts.
“Oh, c’mon Sammy, you’re not exactly quiet about your… tastes,” Dean argues, smirking slightly. “I’m just saying that she’s exactly the kind of girl I thought you’d date.”
“It’s not like that, De,” Sam protests, “not with her.”
Dean cocks an eyebrow as if he doesn’t believe him. “So you’re telling me you’re not dating a younger woman who’s all quiet and reserved because she’s exactly the kind of girl who obeys your every command?” he mocks.
“She’s not like that,” Sam continues to argue, and he thinks maybe Dean is finally believing him, because a small frown pulls on his brow.
“Wait… really? This isn’t one of your… kinky things?”
“No, Dean,” Sam scoffs, still amused by Dean’s naivety even after all this time. Sam’s tried on more than one occasion to educate his brother on the lifestyle, but Dean couldn’t be further from Sam when it comes to things like this. “We’re actually dating, she’s actually my girlfriend,” he explains. “My very inexperienced girlfriend you’ve probably completely freaked out, so thanks for that.”
“Inexperienced?” Dean blinks, but then another cheeky smile lights up his face. “Sammy, you dirty dog!”
“Dean–”
“Well, in my defense, dude, you don’t date much.”
“You didn’t think it was weird I’d asked you to meet her?” Sam questions.
“I don’t know what happens between you and these girls,” Dean protests, shrugging. He’s quiet for a moment, but then he seems to get a little more serious, playing with his beer bottle. “So, is she open to what you like, or…”
Sam can tell that it’s a genuine question, so he doesn’t roll his eyes or complain, instead he takes a deep breath and decides to answer honestly. “I doubt it, we’ve never talked about it.”
“So you’d pack it all in for her?” he asks next. “Do you like her enough to do that?”
“Yeah, I think I would,” Sam nods honestly.
“Well then, I’m sorry dude, didn’t mean to freak her out.”
Sam looks towards the door leading down the hallway towards the bathroom and takes a deep breath. “I’m sure she’s fine,” he tells his brother, realising he’s only trying to convince himself more than Dean.
Y/N has been even more quiet than usual as they clean up after dinner. With Dean now gone, Sam was hoping she’d be a little more confident, like he’d noticed her becoming in the recent weeks, but she doesn’t say much as she clears away plates and carries them out into the kitchen, placing them alongside the sink. He watches her begin to run the hot tap, filling the sink up with warm, soapy water, and leans in the doorway just observing for a moment or two, wondering how he’s going to approach this.
“Hey, let me do that, it’s my place,” he protests, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle.
“It’s fine,” she insists softly. Sam places a soft kiss to the back of her head, and he watches as her movements slow and she clears her throat. “Sam, what did your brother mean when he said he’s not surprised that I’m a student?”
“Nothing,” Sam half lies. “He was just being an older brother and trying to embarrass me.”
“So you’ve not been with other students?” she checks, turning herself around and stepping out of his embrace to face him.
“No, not since I was a student myself,” he tells her honestly this time.
“Students your own age?” she asks next, almost challengingly.
“Pretty much,” he nods. “Y/N, I’m not into young girls or anything,” he laughs awkwardly. “There’s not even ten years between us, it’s not about that for me. Look… can we just forget the whole dinner, please?” he pleads, already exasperated.
She’s been spooked enough for one night, she doesn’t need to hear all about Sam’s twisted, kinky fetishes too. He’s kept those a secret for a reason. He didn’t know it when he first started dating her, but Y/N had been a virgin before they met, and he could still count on one hand how many times they’ve had sex. If he was ever going to show her that side of him, it wouldn’t be now.
“So you’re not into young virgin girls?” she asks bluntly, blinking at him.
“No, absolutely not,” Sam protests immediately, the very implication making his skin crawl. “Firstly, I didn’t even know you were a virgin when we met. Secondly, you’re twenty two, you’re not even a teenager anymore–”
“Okay,” Y/N interrupts. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to accuse you of being a perv or anything, I just… when Dean said he knows what you’re into…”
“He didn’t mean that,” Sam tries to explain.
“Then what did he mean?” she presses, blinking at him again.
Sam sighs heavily, not sure he can answer that honestly if he wants to keep her in the dark about his fantasies and desires.
“Is it bad? Is that why you won’t tell me?” she implores.
“No, it’s not bad,” he argues weakly, shaking his head. “I just don’t wanna freak you out, I know you’re new to all this.”
“Maybe physically, but one of the perks to being late in the game means I’ve done a lot of research,” Y/N admits coyly. “So I’m not as naive as you think.” Sam’s eyebrows rise at her implication. “Just tell me, Sam, please?” she begs softly, a lot more seriously than before.
Sam huffs a breath and licks his lips for a second, gathering his thoughts.
“Usually, I like a certain… dynamic in the bedroom,” he tries to explain briefly. “But, I would never expect that from you, so I’ve never brought it up. I’m fine with the way things are between us,” he rushes to add for reassurance.
“What kind of dynamic?” Y/N asks, seeming to ignore the second half of his comment.
“Urm… me in charge… in control… y’know, pain for pleasure kind of thing,” he admits, feeling his cheeks heating up at his admission. Normally he’s a lot more sure of himself, oozing confidence as he explains exactly how he expects it to go down between him and the girl he’s about to fuck. But Y/N is different, and he doesn’t want her running for the hills because of this.
“So BDSM stuff?” she clarifies, biting her bottom lip.
“Yeah, that stuff,” he nods. “So are you freaked out?” he asks, unable to stop himself.
Y/N doesn’t answer at first, she just stares at him and swallows hard, and Sam’s pretty sure she’s about to break up with him, leave and never come back. But what actually happens takes him off guard, as his eyes follow her as she drops to her knees at his feet and settles into a kneeling position, looking up at him through her lashes.
“What… What are you doing?” he stammers out, afraid that maybe she feels like she has to do this for him.
“Something like this?” she checks.
“You don’t have to–”
“You don’t think I don’t know exactly what you want… Sir?” she asks softly, a tiny smirk beginning to spread over her lips.
Instantly Sam’s cock begins to harden behind his jeans. It’s been a while since he’s seen a girl on her knees at his feet, and while he hears people call him Sir a lot thanks to his job, it feels so different hearing it come from her lips in that tone.
“A-are you sure?” Sam checks sincerely for a moment.
She doesn’t reply to begin with, she just reaches out, softly running her hand up his leg, over his thigh and towards the now obvious bulge in his pants.
“Like I said, I’ve done my research, I know what I like the look of,” she explains, her hand now cupping his cock through the denim, making Sam’s head a little foggier. “I wanna know if it’s as good as it looks, I want you to teach me,” she purrs, blinking at him seductively. “Just go easy on me?”
Sam reaches forward, cupping the side of her face. “I’ve got you, baby girl,” he confirms, feeling her lean into his touch. “I’ll guide you through it.”
Your POV
Holy fuck.
Sam’s teeth drag down your throat, his large hands finally releasing your wrists above your head, smoothing down your arms.
“Leave them there,” he growls against your skin, his hands now finding your breasts, fondling them for a moment or two before reaching around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You moan, arching your back into him, your hands finding his long hair so you can card your fingers through it. “I said, leave them there,” Sam growls, instantly pinning your hands above your head once more. “Don’t make me tie them up.”
Just the very thought of him tying you to the bed, making you completely at his mercy makes your insides flutter with even more arousal that pools between your bare legs.
“Please do,” you find yourself gasping, your brain foggy with arousal and desperation.
“You’d like that, hm?” he smirks, leaning back to look at you. “You’d like me tying you up, using you however I want?” You instantly nod, desperate for just that. “Use your words, baby girl… always use your words with me,” he commands.
“Y-yes I want that,” you confirm verbally.
“Sir,” he adds for you.
“Sir,” you also add, breathlessly. You’d always liked the idea of calling a guy Sir in the bedroom, but you never thought it would be this much of a turn on.
You watch him climb off of you, now standing at the foot of his bed as he reaches down for his jeans on the floor, and without taking his eyes off of you, he grabs the belt still in the loops and pulls it free. The sight is near enough orgasmic as you once again arch your back and moan, desperate for some attention between your legs.
Sam uses the tail of his belt to trail up your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake as you squirm underneath him.
“Maybe one day we can use this for something a little more entertaining,” he ponders, a wicked smirk curling over his lips. “But for now, we can make good use of it in other ways.”
You feel him wrap the leather around both your wrists, and with only a few tugs, you find yourself bound to the headboard, unable to move your hands very far; unable to touch him anymore. And suddenly, you want nothing more. His cock is hard and practically dripping with precum on your thigh, and you want to wrap your hand around it, to give him some relief. But he seems unfazed by the lack of attention it’s receiving, instead focused on your body, and the way it’s writhing underneath him.
His hazel eyes scan over what feels like every single inch, and he hums in appreciation, his hands beginning to ghost over your skin. When his touch begins to trail lower than your belly button, you find your legs widening as if to encourage him between them. He seems to oblige without any further teasing, which you’re grateful for, because you’re not sure how much longer you can take this. Your head feels like it’s going to explode. Being at someone’s mercy is so much better than it had been in your head all those times you’d gotten yourself off to the fantasy, or touched yourself to those videos you used to be so ashamed about liking.
“Someone’s wet,” he notes, a smug grin on his lips at the fact. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”
You nod desperately, bucking your hips against his fingers, feeling him rub your clit as you begin to moan.
“Yes, Sir,” you rush to confirm, just about mustering enough sanity to remember to use your words like he’d commanded.
“If you like this, wait until I train you to be the perfect little slut for me,” he growls, and you gasp for air as his fingers push inside you with his words, your head spinning with the mixture of the sensation and the very thought of his words. “This body is perfect, and it’s all mine, isn’t it?” he asks, his eyes landing on yours.
“All yours, Sir,” you confirm, breathlessly. “Please… please fuck me,” you find yourself begging, unable to take much more. You just want to feel him inside you; it’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, and you only wish you’d have met him sooner.
“That’s not how you beg,” Sam growls, curling his fingers and making you cry out in pleasure. “Ask nicely, or I won’t fuck you at all.”
“Please, Sir. Please will you fuck me? I need you to fuck me, please.”
“That’s better,” Sam hums, removing his fingers and stroking his cock, slicking it with your juices from his fingers. “Such a good girl, I can tell you’re going to do so well,” he praises.
He leans over you, teasing the tip of his cock through your arousal, softly pressing against your opening as he chuckles at your desperation. You buck your hips in hopes that he’ll slide deeper, but he holds back, smirking almost evilly down at you, clearly relishing in just what he’s driven you to.
“Please, Sir,” you beg one last time, barely audible through your gasps for breath.
Sam leans down, bringing his mouth close to your ear, his cock still only just inside you. “I love the way that sounds on your lips,” he breathes out, his cock throbbing as if to prove his point. “I can’t wait to show you exactly how I like it.”
And just the thought of this getting even better, has you on the edge.
When you are having a hard time, the way you can go easy on yourself is by allowing yourself to be instead of trying to find answers to everything right away and fix things as if there are instant solutions to such deep-rooted problems and patterns.
Going easy on yourself does not mean indulging in self-destructive behaviour that will make you feel good for maybe a few hours or desperately seeking instant gratification in any way and form you can find.
It means not jumping to conclusions or thinking too deeply or forcing yourself to figure it all out. It means eating well, getting enough sleep, brushing your hair, and having fruit.
It means laughing with a friend, going for a walk or lying down on the cool marble floor in Shavasana. It means constantly filling your bottle of water and carrying it everywhere with you and reading good books the ones that give you some comfort and leave you with a sense of warmth and hope.
It means engaging yourself in things that allow you to breathe a little better as you do all the functional things life is demanding out of you, like work and chores.
Going easy on yourself during such times means you don’t take yourself so seriously because that is the quickest way to skinny dip in rabbit holes and camp there for extended periods. It also means that you say no to things and people who make you feel anxious, conscious, and uneasy. Yes, you should step out of your comfort zone and push yourself and all that but there is a time and place for that. And when you’re feeling such heaviness of being, that is not it.
Not demanding more from yourself, not caving into the demands of others, not using your sadness and pain as an excuse to fall back on maladaptive coping mechanisms, not getting existential about everything — that’s what it means to go easy on yourself. So, please, do go easy.
