#Risk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

losers-clvb · 5 months ago

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"why aren't you here in my bedroom?" sam winchester x party girl!reader

content: canon typical violence, age gap, smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, praise, fluff, internal angst on sam's end

word count: 3.6k

song: risk by gracie abrams

note: please ignore my shitty attempts at texts, i do not text (much) irl. this "series" isn't going to be like a book -- the parts are going to be weeks or months apart, just to let everyone know.

m.list meet party girl!

The first interaction you had with Sam Winchester involved werewolves and vampires. Despite the absolute insanity spouting from his mouth, you trusted him, especially with his arm still wrapped around you after pulling you out of harm’s way.

“So that was a werewolf? Like Teen Wolf?” You pointed in the direction the other man had gone in, a gun cradled in his hands. Sam narrowed his eyes at you in confusion.

“Wha-,” then he thought about it. “Yeah, a bit like Teen Wolf, I guess.”

“And it was with a vampire?” You were trying to get a grasp on the situation. It wasn’t every day your favorite genre came to life.

“Yes.”

“Like Twilight?”

“No.” Sam laughed out at the image. “Nothing like Twilight, actually.”

He watched a small pout come to your face.

“They don’t sparkle?”

“No, I’m sorry.” He was stuck on staring at your expressions. You were beautiful, he noticed. All of your features suited you well. He was tempted to sweep a strand of hair out of your face before you gasped in horror.

“Behind you!”

Sam tightened his grip around you and spun, letting you nuzzle into his chest. You breathed in his scent, eucalyptus and mint flooding your system. There was a hint of something smoky that you assumed to be gunpowder, though you couldn’t be sure. Before today, you had never even seen a gun.

You felt him lift his arm -- the one not holding onto you like a child with a helium-filled balloon -- and two gunshots rang out. You flinched with both, fingers digging into his flannel. You heard something -- a body, you realized a second later -- hit the grassy ground.

Even in your alcohol-altered state you knew it was a bad idea to look behind you. That didn’t stop the curiosity from creeping in, pulling your head in the direction of your previous attacker.

There it was: the body of a guy not much older than you, laid out in the grass with a gunshot wound to the chest. A small cry left your throat before you could stop it. You’d never seen a dead body before.

Sam’s reaction was immediate, a hand over your eyes guiding your head back into him. He wanted to protect you from this, from his world.

“Shh,” he mumbled soothingly, brushing his fingers into your hair. You relaxed into him, focusing on the worn fabric pressing into your cheeks. You heard footsteps behind you, but from Sam's lack of worry, you assumed it to be friend instead of foe.

“Sammy,” a gruff voice called,

Sammy

That must be his name, you thought. You filed that away into your brain for later.

The other man must have gestured out a question, because a second later, you felt the rumble of his chest when he mumbled a yeah, yeah.

The casual way he was holding you paired with the calming scent of him made you tilt your face up, resting your chin on his chest. The alarm you had felt just moments ago fizzled into something else, something more like yourself. Your eyes twinkled up at him.

“Thank you for saving me.” You drawled, sliding a hand up to rest on his shoulder. The old band t-shirt you had borrowed from a friend rode up slightly, exposing more of your tiny skirt. You felt the other man’s eyes drift to your thighs, but your attention was locked on Sam. “You’re my knight in shining armor.”

“More like flannel.” He joked. His eyes drifted over your lips for a split second before coming back to your eyes. “And it’s kind of my job.” He chuckled.

“Still,” you shifted yourself onto your toes, “I wanna repay you.” His hands, which had been slowly traveling to your hips, gripped onto the fabric just over your waist. It was to keep you steady on your toes, at least, that’s what Sam told himself. You bit your lip to add to the meaning behind your words.

“Is that right?” Sam hummed out, raising his eyebrows. It wasn’t everyday that a pretty girl flirted with him this heavily -- in reality, it was pretty much everyday a pretty girl flirted with him, but usually his head was too far into the case to notice.

“I’m goin’ back to the room, Sammy.” The other man jingled the keys in his hand, giving you one last look over before turning around. “And, uh,” he threw a look over his shoulder at Sam, “have fun.” He winked with his suggestive words.

Sam tried swallowed down his embarrassment, but you still saw a pink flush on his cheeks. You shifted on your feet, hoping to get his attention back on you. Of course, it worked.

“You wanna have fun with me?” You purred out. You felt his fingers dig into your hips. A flash of hesitance shone through his eyes.

“How old are you?” He could tell you were young, like, really young. You hadn’t seen the world yet, hadn’t experienced as much as he had. Though, not many people had experienced what Sam had. He felt you push up against him a little more.

“Old enough.” You responded, making him narrow his eyes.

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“Twenty-one.”

You watched a grimace cross his face.

Fuck, you were young. Barely legal to drink. You had obviously taken advantage of the fact that you could drink, if the slight sway in your stature and the dilation of your pupils told him anything.

“C’mon, honey,” you urged, the pet name coating him in a fuzzy feeling, “I want you, you want me-,”

“How do you know I want you?” He cut you off. You tilted your head slightly, the glitter on your cheeks sparkling at him.

“I know when a man wants me.” You answered. You moved your eyes from his, drifting over his face to the steady rise of his chest. You wanted to reach out to unbutton his flannel, wanted to see the muscles you knew it hid.

Suddenly, everything was funny. The weed gummy you popped before leaving the party was kicking in.

You giggled out, the force of your laughter knocking you over. You fell into Sam’s chest and his hold on you tightened.

“Are you high?” He thought back to the one time he’d smoked, back to his college buddies elation at every little thing. You hiccuped into him and turned to look at him, the side of your head now resting on his chest.

“A little, teeny, tiny, itty bit.” You replied, using your fingers to show just how little, teeny, tiny, itty bit it really was. Sam couldn’t help but smile at that. You were so fucking adorable.

“Let’s get you home.” He offered, trying to hoist you up to completely standing. You gasped and clung to him further.

“No!” You practically shouted out, a moment of sober washing over you. “The dorms have a curfew.”

Dorms. Curfew. Every word reminded him of your age, of why he couldn’t just kiss you right there and then.

“And when is that, honey?” He asked, trying out the pet name on you. It instantly lightened your panic, making you giggle again. You buried your face into him.

He nudged at you, a reminder that you still needed to answer the question. You resurfaced from the Sea of Sammy, as you had mentally dubbed it.

“What time is it now?” You slurred out. Sam checked his watch.

“3:00 AM.”

“Oh, curfew was…,” you did the math in your head, but the numbers got fuzzy, “two hours ago.”

“One?” That didn’t seem right. Most colleges, especially on the weekdays, cut the students off at eleven, midnight at the very latest.

You scrunched your nose.

“Eleven.” You corrected. Apparently math wasn’t your strong suit when intoxicated.

“Where were you going?”

You had been walking along the sidewalk when the boys had passed you initially. They figured you were fine, or, at the very least, could wait until they were done with their hunt before they offered their help. It wasn’t until you had been chased into a clearing in the woods that they, or rather Sam, had actually met you.

“Mmm, I dunno.” You giggled again, shrugging. “Diner?”

“Right…” Sam nodded. Had the college kids really gotten this unsafe with their lives, or had he just forgotten it all?

“Don’t judge me.” You cupped your hands around his face, pushing his cheeks together. “I love pancakes.”

“No, no, I believe you.” Sam managed to get out through his squished cheeks. You pulled him down closer to you, nearly eye-level with the giant now.

“No, Sammy, you don’t get it.” You dramatized every word. He almost corrected you -- it was Sam not Sammy --, but your eyes widened. “I could fuck up some pancakes right now.”

A smile twitched over him again. His hand found the small of your back, resting just above your butt.

“Wanna go get some?” He asked when you finally dropped your hands from his face. Your eyes lit up.

“Really?” You were practically vibrating with excitement.

“Who am I to keep you from your pancakes?”

He kept himself calm when you squealed with excitement, spooking a few birds that had settled into the trees near you. You had forgotten all about the night’s prior events and, luckily, Dean had found time to take care of the bodies, so no reminders would occur.

Sam wasn’t ready to let you go. No, not yet. He just wanted to be in your presence a moment longer. He could learn to ignore the pull to you later.

----

Turns out he couldn’t learn to ignore the pull.

Not when you had so kindly fed him bites of pancake while talking about your life.

Or when you had woken him up with a kiss on the nose after he let you crash in his and Dean’s motel room for the night.

You were making it especially hard to ignore it all when you sent him those sweet texts everyday.

honey, i found another sammy

don’t worry, she’s not as cute

honey, we talked about mythology today and i thought of you

honey, i’m a litgle drink right niw, but i stil miss you

Sam smiled at every single one, especially when they got flirtier after you two made it official. He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe that you were his.

He made it a point to visit at least twice a month. He couldn’t stay for long each time, but it was enough time for you to cling to him like a koala on a tree, and to do… other things.

You weren’t a virgin in any way, something you found yourself repeating over and over, but Sam wanted to take it slow with you. He wanted to prove to you -- and himself, (and the whole world) -- that he didn’t want you just for your body.

You both settled for those heated makeouts, his hands gripping onto your ass. There had been a few times you’d gotten off on his thigh, soaking his pants through your lacy panties. Your little sighs and whimpers got him rock hard, but every time you tried to help him out, he would rush off to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

Tonight, you were ready to take things up a notch. You had made sure your dorm mate would be out for the night, pushing her in the direction of the party you were missing.

It started out innocent enough.

Sam was halfway across the country in some dive bar, texting away with you while Dean hustled pool.

you: i miss you, honey.

sam: I know, baby. Next week?

Fuck it, you thought before snapping a picture of yourself.

you: i’m thinking about you right now, though.

you: [picture]

Sam nearly choked on his beer when he saw it. You, spread out on your dorm bed in nothing but lingerie. Lace -- in his favorite color, he noticed -- barely covered your breasts but pushed them up in just the right way. He couldn’t see what you possessed between your legs because your hand was stuffed into your panties. He imagined those whines he loved so much falling from your lips while you touched yourself.

While you touched yourself to him.

He booked it for the bathroom, a small room with only a toilet, sink, and trash can to judge him.

“Hey, honey.” You breathed out when you finally answered the phone. Sam swallowed.

“Baby,” he sighed, trying not to touch himself, “I wasn’t alone.”

“Did you like my picture?” You giggled out. You had stopped touching yourself -- it was really only for the photo, but hopefully you would get back to it soon.

“Are you really thinking about me?” Sam asked, leaning his arm up against the wall.

“Mmm,” you hummed suggestively, “always.”

He swore at your voice. So fucking sweet, like it was meant just for him.

“Can you talk me through it?” You wanted him to, God, you were practically foaming at the mouth for it. You listened for half a beat, waiting for his answer.

“Touch yourself for me.” He mumbled into the phone. You bit your lip and grazed your hand down your body. Shifting its way into your panties again, you whimpered at the brush of your knuckle against your clit.

Sam palmed himself through his jeans, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Are you wet?” He asked, then decided to add on to the question. “For me?”

You sucked in a sharp breath and swiped a finger through your folds.

“Yes, honey, so wet. All for you.” You all but moaned out. Sam slowly unzipped his jeans, hoping you wouldn’t hear him. This made him feel like a creep, like some guy that got off from a simple moan from a girl.

It didn’t work. You heard the zip sound into the phone, making you smirk.

“You wanna touch yourself with me, honey?”

Sam froze, his heart beating out of his chest.

“I, um,” he stuttered out. He didn’t think he would be caught. It threw him off of his game, making that confidence he felt before start to drift away. You sensed this and echoed his words back to him, shifting them just enough to make them your own.

“Are you hard? For me?”

Sam melted back into the moment. He wrapped a hand around himself, pumping slowly.

“Always.”

You whimpered at his own echo, imagining it all in your head. You hadn’t seen his cock, but you had felt it against your leg, against your back.

“You want my hand wrapped around that cock? Hmm? Stroking you nice and slow?”

Sam bit back a moan, but moved his hand just how you were describing.

“Maybe in my mouth? Taste you on my tongue?”

“I thought I was the one talking.” Sam interrupted your filthy teasing, but imagined the scene anyway. You, on your knees, taking him into your mouth with your eyes locked on his.

“Tell me then, honey. What should I do?”

“Rub your clit for me, baby. Nice and slow.” He repeated your words, making a giggle break through your moan.

“Picture my hand on that pretty pussy.” He smiled at the whine that escaped you.

“You’d make me feel so good, honey.”

“Yeah, baby, I would.” He watched his hand move on himself, trying to distort his vision to see yours instead.

“Slip a finger in, just one.” He could pinpoint the moment you did it, your breathing picking up.

“Just one?” You whined. He could see that pout on your face, the same one you always threw on because you knew it would make him give in to you.

“Just one.”

You huffed out a fine, making Sam fill with joy that you were still mouthy when horny.

“Good girl.” He mumbled.

“Honey,” you moaned, rubbing your thumb on your clit while you moved your finger in you. “I want you here. I want you touching me. I want your cock.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam tutted at your dirty words, “careful with that mouth. Don’t want people thinking my girl is cockhungry.”

You whimpered, your eyes fluttering shut.

“But I am cockhungry. You’ve been neglecting my needs. Please, honey, please.”

Sam squeezed gently, pulling a groan out of himself. He listened to your breathy whines for just a moment before answering.

“Next week.” He quickened his movements just a tick.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, honey.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm,” you sucked in a breath when you curled your finger up a bit, “gonna ride you. Let you fuck up into me until I only know your name.”

“Fuck,” Sam swore. You bouncing on him while he gripped onto that sweet ass.

“Will you make me feel good, honey? Please?”

“Anything for my girl,” he panted out. He could feel his balls tighten up.

“Add another finger, baby, you deserve it.”

“Thank you, honey.”

He heard you hiss in pleasure, which, in turn, made him grunt at the image in his head.

“Feels so good, honey, but I wish it were your fingers in me.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he bit his lip to quiet his moan. “I want you here touching my cock, but we can’t always get what we want.”

“I’m gonna come, honey. Can you come with me?”

“I’m waiting for you, baby. Wish I could taste you, wrap my lips around those fingers and lick them clean.” He pumped himself faster, bringing himself to the edge.

“I’ll clean ‘em for you, honey.” You promised, moaning when you heard him groan.

“Say my name when you come.”

“Sammy.” You whimpered. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…”

Sam came into his hand with a groan, his eyes screwed shut when his name fell off your tongue. He heard you shuffle over the phone, then a notification dinged.

“Look at how good I am for you, honey.”

Sam pulled the phone away from his ear, tapping into your message thread. There, displayed out for his eyes only, was a picture of you with your fingers shoved into your mouth, eyes rolled back. He could see the shine just below your lips, your release coating your digits just for him.

“Such a good girl.” He said into the phone, pulling his jeans back up. Fabric rubbing together -- your comforter, he realized -- sounded through the phone. He could see you in his mind, pulling on that silky robe you would make him get for you after showers.

You settled back into bed, letting your pile of blankets envelop you.

“I miss you.”

Your words made his heart clench. He wished he could be there, holding you, rubbing on your skin soothingly until you went to sleep. Of course, he would never be there, in your dorm room. There had been one time, only once, that he had dared to follow you in. He felt out of place in the crowd of twenty-somethings, nevermind the fact that he was technically a twenty-something, just on the wrong side of the spectrum.

It had taken one mutter of “sugar daddy” to get him to all but sprint back to his car, but not before he got a glimpse of your room. It was girly and sweet with just the right amount of mess that he would expect from a young girl.

Young being the key word. You were young, he knew that, you knew that, every damn person you came into contact with knew that.

It wasn’t until you sauntered from the dorm building with an excited smile on your face that he had pulled himself from the self-loathing. How could he regret this when he had your pretty face to look at?

“I miss you more.” He sighed out now, holding the phone against his ear with his shoulder while he washed his hands. He heard your lazy giggle.

“Not possible.” You slurred out the last part of your words and that’s when your muffled yawn crackled through the phone.

“Are you tired?” He asked, but he already knew the answer.

“A little, but I want to talk to you.”

“You need sleep, baby.”

“Okay, dad.” You rolled your eyes with the words.

Sam stilled. Dad. He knew you would have said it regardless of his age, and he wasn’t old enough to be your father, but it still stung. It brought back the reminder that this was probably wrong and he was a creep.

You furrowed your brows at the silence, completely oblivious to his internal battles. You saw no issues with your relationship. Sure, there were people who stared, and maybe a waitress or two that were Sam’s age would make you feel like a little girl, but it was all worth it to get to love him.

“Honey?” You whispered into the phone. Sam swallowed and glared at himself in the mirror. “Sammy? Did you fall asleep?”

“No, I’m here.” Sam snapped out of it, his eyes dragging to the floor. You smiled to yourself.

“Can you tell me about your day? Just until I fall asleep.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, blinking at the floor before reentering the organized clatter of the bar. He saw Dean talking up the bartender on his way to his previous seat in the corner.

Sam muttered on about his day, your small hums warming him. He had started to go into detail about the insanity of the town’s sheriff when he heard it: your soft snoring.

He closed his eyes and listened. For only a moment, he was next to you, arm wrapped around your shoulders with you cuddled into his chest.

“Goodnight, baby.” He whispered into the phone before ending the call, an empty, sinking feeling in his chest.

everything taglist : @littlesoulshine @sacr1ficialang3l @blossomingorchids

#supernatural #sam winchester #x reader #spn #supernatural x reader #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fic #party girl!reader #gracie abrams #risk

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