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h8aaz · 11 hours ago

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ꨄ︎ bait

a/n: ahhh my first ever spn fic. i loved writing about sam and dean, and hopefully this fic all sounds okay :’)

pairing: sam x reader

summary: you used yourself as bait on a hunt with dean and sam wasn’t too happy about it. along with a little confession (sort of) at the end

warnings: mild (but typical) spn violence with a demon/spirit, injury mentions

word count: 2.1k

✩ ✩ ✩

This isn’t how you’d planned for things to go.

This isn’t what you’d agreed on.

This was your only option.

Dean was practically carrying you back to his car, and you couldn’t wait to feel those comfortable, squishy, leather seats of the impala underneath you.

It was expected, after being thrown against a wall too many times to count.

The hunt wasn’t meant to go this way. You were just supposed to go with Dean, find the spirit and trap it underground in a ring of salt. All while Sam would be continuing his research at the motel to find where exactly the corpse was buried to salt and burn it. It should’ve been easy.

However, when the spirit didn’t show when Dean was luring it in, you had no choice but to act as bait.

This spirit had taken and killed specific people back when it was alive. And you fit the profile perfectly.

It took a lot of persuading Dean to let you be bait while he used the salt instead of the other way around. But there were no other options.

Once the spirit turned up, things went bad pretty fast.

You got thrown into the wall, knocking the air out of your lungs and deeming you defenceless for a few minutes. All while that gave time for the spirit to grab hold of you and strangle you.

Dean always had your back, he stalled the spirit, got it off of you while you took over with the salting. But the spirit had its eyes on you, you were its target.

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t exactly the hardest fight you’ve ever been in, but it scared you nevertheless.

and you knew full well it would scare Sam.

By the time Dean had finished the salt circle, pulling you out of the way of the spirit, it was a miracle you were still conscious and standing.

You almost collapsed against Dean, but he had you. He got you back to his impala, and rushed as fast as he could to get you both back to the motel where Sam would be waiting for an update.

Of course, the sight Sam saw as Dean walked you through the door wasn’t at all what he expected, or wanted, to see.

Dean was keeping you upright, helping you to walk. One hand supporting your back, the other holding your arm firmly. It took a lot of effort for him to keep you awake on the way to the motel. And he didn’t want you sleeping until he, or most likely Sam, could check you over.

“What the hell happened?” Sam stood up at an alarming speed as Dean sat you down on the bed.

“What does it look like?” Dean looked at you, checking you were still conscious. “I hope you found where the grave is, Sammy, otherwise we just got the crap beaten out of us for nothing.”

“We?” Sam looked between you and Dean. “More like she got the crap beaten out of her.”

Dean glanced to Sam for a second before focusing back to you. He held your head up straight before it could fall, seeing the droopy look in your eyes.

“Hey, stay awake,” Dean tapped your arm lightly. “Can you breathe okay?”

“Can she breathe okay?” Sam folded his arms.

“Yes, I’m checking she isn’t hurt too bad.”

As Dean checked for any bruises, his fingers grazed the bruise just at the bottom of your neck. Exactly where the spirit had been choking you.

You winced, pulling back from Dean immediately. But it did make you become more aware, finally looking up at where Sam was standing.

“Hurts,” you mumbled.

“Sorry,” Dean pulled at the top of your shirt, trying to see the extent of the bruising. “I’m gonna grab some ice from the ice machine, Sammy?”

He stood up, Sam giving Dean a frustrated look, “you used her for bait, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“She fits the profile,” Sam followed Dean to the door. “That’s why it took you longer, because the spirit wouldn’t show up. So, the only way you could get its attention was with her.”

Dean huffed out, “Come on, Sam,” he shook his head. “I didn’t force her to do it, how else do you think we were gonna trap it.”

“Not with her as bait!” Sam almost shouted. “You knew this one was dangerous, I thought we agreed that she wouldn’t be the bait.”

Dean glanced over to you, seeing you looking at them arguing. Usually you would have butted in by now, but you were clearly too exhausted to bother.

“Don’t act like she’s incapable of fighting,” Dean defended you. “Don’t forget she saved your ass last month.”

“Yea, well she’s not invincible, Dean, it just takes one hunt too far and she could end up like—“

“Guys,” you managed to speak loud enough for both their heads to turn in your direction. “Can someone please just get me some ice. I feel like everything is burning.”

Dean nodded, quickly leaving the motel to rush and get you some ice. Sam stayed with you, walking over to the bed where you were just about keeping yourself sitting.

“Are you bleeding anywhere?” Sam asked softly, his gentle demeanour coming out again.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if i was,” you chuckled tiredly.

Sam stood, instantly hooking one arm under your legs, the other against your back, to pick you up. You whined quietly, but he was fast to get you into the bathroom to sit you on the counter.

“Can you lift your arms?” He asked.

You took a breath, lifting them up just enough for Sam to get your shirt off of you. Only then did he see the small cut on the side of your stomach.

“I’m gonna get this cleaned up, okay?”

Sam grabbed the first aid kit. Leaning down to start cleaning up and bandaging this cut that seemed to still be bleeding.

Neither of you were talking, Sam thinking about how badly you must’ve been getting thrown around by that spirit. Meanwhile knowing you’d all agreed to not have you as bait. He didn’t understand what happened, why Dean let that happen.

It took you hissing loudly while grabbing Sam’s wrist for him to snap out of it. He looked up at you, seeing your head leaned back against the mirror.

“I’m almost done,” Sam held your hand in his, squeezing softly. “You’re doing so good.”

He rushed the last part, getting all the cleaning done, finishing up by placing a bandage over the top.

And then… it was silent.

Sam was looking at you, seeing your bruises, a few smaller injuries elsewhere. He never wanted you to get hurt. If he had been there instead of Dean—

“Sam,” you got his attention, his eyes shot up to yours. “I’m okay.”

He chuckled, “you’re not okay, you can hardly move without being in pain,” he wasn’t wrong. “Why did you agree to be bait? Last time we had that conversation you were too scared to do it.”

“I didn’t agree to be bait,” you slowly sat yourself up fully. “I persuaded Dean to let me do it.”

He sighed, perching on the edge of the small bath tub that was to the right of where you were sat on the counter. Sam took a good look at you, not believing that you would willingly be bait.

“You’re not just saying that to stop me from being mad at Dean?”

“Have I ever lied to you?” You folded your arms. A second later, shaking your head. “Don’t answer that.”

He finally laughed.

You tried to move yourself from the counter, wincing slightly as your feet reached the floor. You leaned against the sink, trying to hold yourself up.

“I’ve got you,” Sam was quick to be at your side, placing his arm around your back.

He helped to walk you to the main room, letting you sit down on the bed you’d claimed before the day had taken a crazy turn.

He sat beside you, now getting a closer look at the bruise on your neck, showing that you’d been held by some force for it to be marking so badly already.

“You know what I thought about?” You suddenly spoke.

“Hm?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

“There was a second that I thought Dean wouldn’t get to me fast enough,” you explained. “And I thought about what would’ve happened if I was the one staying here to find the body instead of going to trap the spirit.”

Sam didn’t want to admit it, but he knew you’d be nowhere near to getting rid of this spirit if things had gone differently.

There needed to be bait to get the spirit to show up, and if Sam had gone in your place, no spirit would have shown. Maybe it would’ve claimed another innocent life. You’d helped out, as dangerous as it was.

“When Dean walked through that door with you… hurt, and almost unconscious, I just—“ he cut himself off, looking away.

You subtly placed your hand over his where it was resting on the bed. He looked towards you again, slowly linking your hands together.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” he finally admitted. “I can’t lose you.”

“You’re not gonna lose me, Sam,” you squeezed his hand. “Injuries or not, I’m still here, I’m sitting right here, with you.”

“I know,” he whispered. “It’s just… when Dean didn’t check in on time, I thought to the worst, because, well, you know.”

You nodded. Understanding. You knew that he’d lost too many people before you met the brothers. Family, friends, people he cared about.

Now you were here. Going on hunts with them.

“Dean had it covered,” you smiled softly. “He had my back the whole time.”

“But I wasn’t there to make sure of that,” Sam moved to cup your cheek in his hand. “I wasn’t there to keep you out of harms way.”

“Sammy…” you paused, making clear eye contact with him. “Things like this are gonna happen, I’ll get hurt, you’ll get hurt… it’s the job, you know that.”

Sam caressed your cheek softly, as if taking in having you sat here in front of him. It was like he was memorising your features for if he had lost you today.

“I’m good at hunting, remember?” You leaned into his grip. “I’ve saved you more times than you’ve saved me.”

“Don’t ruin the moment,” Sam shook his head at you jokingly.

“What moment is that exactly?”

He thought about his next move carefully. But considering he was worried about you the whole time you were gone… he had no time to waste.

“This one,” and without a second thought… he kissed you.

It was one of the softest kisses you’re sure you’ve ever experienced. He was so gentle with his hand on your cheek, he kept his movements to a minimum in fear of hurting you further than you already were.

Maybe this moment had been long overdue. Maybe Sam had been too worried about getting too close to you out of fear that he’d lose you like he kept losing everyone else he loved.

He couldn’t hold off any longer, he cared about you too much for that.

Somehow, it was always Dean who interrupted your moments like this. Although, the previous times you never got around to kissing.

The door swung open, “the stupid ice machine was out of ice, can you believe that— oh,” Dean’s eyes widened. “I assumed you’d take care of her while I was gone, just not like this.”

You and Sam had separated as soon as you heard Dean speak. You were looking at the ground, Sam was clearing his throat while moving away slightly.

“Can’t believe it took her getting this hurt for you to finally act on those feelings, huh Sammy?”

Sam rolled his eyes. You were already looking at the bags of ice Dean had with him.

“So did Sam stop the pain or will you still be needing the ice?” Dean raised his eyebrows at you.

“Just give me the stupid ice,” you tried to reach for it, but Dean took a step back.

“If it’s so stupid, do you really need it?”

“Quit being a jerk,” you folded your arms.

Dean placed the ice down on your bed, raising his hands in defence, “looks like you’re back to feeling more normal then?”

You glared at him, “Sam patched me up,” you explained. “Hopefully the ice and some sleep will help some more.”

You grabbed one of the bags of ice, holding it against the side of your neck where the worst of your bruises were. You let out a sigh of relief at the cool feeling.

“Sure you’re okay?” Sam quietly asked, glancing at Dean across the room after.

“I’m okay, Sammy,” you held his hand in yours again. “Promise.”

✩ ✩ ✩

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#gabs ⛤ reblogs .ᐟ #W first spn fic are you kidding #sammy come home #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural

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h8aaz · 12 hours ago

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ICEBREAKER three

pairing: stanford!hockey player!sam winchester x figure skater!female!reader

content: language, slightly ooc sam, so freaking sweet it makes me want to cry, smut (semi-public making out, sammy gets hard in a bookstore, grinding, dirty talk, fingering, finger sucking, protected piv sex)

word count: 7.8k

note: okay, i went a little crazy with this, but there was no way to break it all up. hope you love it <33

Sam couldn’t believe this. He had his dream girl standing in his favorite store holding a battered-but-beautiful edition of his favorite book. All of this after he had just discovered his new favorite cafe, a title given simply because it was her favorite.

Thank God Dean wasn’t here to bear witness to how down bad he was. Sam would never hear the end of it.

“Have you read this?” Your voice broke him from his thoughts, which was for the best because why the fuck was he thinking about Dean when he had you looking up at him like that?

“Hmm?” He hummed, looking down at the book in your hands. He already knew what it was – a third-edition hardcover copy of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit –, but he had to play it cool, act like he hadn’t noticed every book you’d even just brushed a finger over.

You held the book up for him, flipping it around in your hands so the cover was facing him. He smiled at the way your fingers curled around the edges, holding it delicately as if it was a glass vase.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve read it, once or twice.” Sam answered, casually. He thought for a moment, then decided he had to give you more. Why was he so nervous about your opinion of him? “Actually, that’s my favorite book. I can’t remember how many times I’ve read it.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning the cover back around so you could look at it again. You traced a finger over the illustrated mountains.

“I liked the movies.” You mumbled, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes. “But my brain doesn’t like high fantasy. Too hard to read.”

“You once read Crime and Punishment.” Sam replied deadpan. He knew you were a smart girl, probably the smartest he knew – though he was a bit biased in his thinking.

“I can read just fine, Sam,” he didn’t think there was a lovelier sound than you saying his name, “it’s all the… elves and weird terminology. It pulls me out of it. I just want to close my eyes and imagine the world the entire time.” You shook your head dismissively, placing the book back into its display stand.

Sam breathed out a laugh. He was standing behind you, giving him the perfect opportunity to bend down to your level. His chin hovered over your shoulder.

“Maybe you just need someone to read it to you. Let you close your eyes and imagine the world.” He spoke straight into your ear. Something bloomed in him – lust? love? – when he caught the shiver that ran through you. His heart swelled when you turned your head to lock eyes with him.

“Are you offering?” You had that sexy smirk on your face again, the one that made Sam want to lean in and kiss you until your lips were indented into his forever.

“Maybe.” Playful innocence dripped from his tone. He watched your eyes flick down to his lips. Good, he thought. Let you make the first move, make sure this was something you actually wanted.

“Is this before or after the extraordinary sex I was promised?”

Fuck, Sam was in trouble. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hide his physical attraction toward you.

“I never said ‘extraordinary.’” Sam mumbled, leaning closer. Your noses bumped, lips brushing when either of you spoke.

“I may have embellished it a bit.” You whispered, eyes still locked on his. “You’ll just have to help me figure out if I was correct or not.”

Sam’s eyes slowly closed, squeezing shut as he tried to keep himself from taking you right up against the bookcases. When he opened them again, he caught the amusement on your face, corners of your eyes crinkling while you held back silent laughter.

“I’ll do more than help you.” Sam leaned in, connecting your lips. He melted into you when he felt you kiss back. He brought his hands up to your cheeks, cradling your face while he smoothly brought himself to stand in front of you.

You licked across his lip, silently asking for entrance into his mouth. He allowed it because he’d be crazy not to. Your tongue pressed against his, wet and sliding into his mouth. He loved it, maybe loved you, but it was too early to say.

He shuffled closer to you, letting your bodies press into each other. You clutched at his hoodie, holding him close like you were afraid he would run away. Sam groaned at the mental image of you doing that in the mornings, waking next to him with his shirt bunched in your hands.

Hesitantly, he pulled away, then, because he really couldn’t help himself, placed a few pecks on your lips before fully standing up straight.

“We-,” he took in a breath, trying to level out his heart rate. “We should-,” he groaned at the sight of your swollen lips and smiling eyes, “God, we need to go, now.” He finally growled out, grabbing at your hips.

“You don’t want to look at more books?” You asked with faux innocence, and he really would have found a way to hide his semi if he thought you were serious. He could see the hunger burning in your eyes, ready to pounce on him at any given point.

“I have books at my place you can look at all night long, if that’s what turns you on.” He panted out, squeezing your sides. You grinned at him. “But I really, really don’t want that old lady at the desk to overhear any noises you might make if we stay.”

“Noises I make? What about the ones you’ll be making?” You were really pushing his buttons now. He was sure he would absolutely lose it if you weren’t out of that store and into his bed in the next ten minutes. He threw his head back with a groan, gently walking backwards while tugging you toward the door.

“Come on, pretty girl, are you torturing me on purpose?” He kept his voice hushed, eyeing the rows of shelves for any occupants who may be offended by his desperation.

“Yeah, I am, actually.” You had no reason to talk low, confidence seeping out of your words. He mentally thanked you for your steps that matched his, making it much easier for him to drag you out.

“You enjoy this, huh? Making out with me in front of Carroll and Shelley then acting like it’s just another day?” Sam was going to burst with attraction at the wide grin that spread over your face. He watched you glance down, taking note of the way his jeans were just the slightest bit tighter around his crotch.

“You seem to enjoy it.” You teased, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth. He hoped that within the next few moments, that lips would be in between his teeth instead. He rolled his eyes playfully, quickly spinning you two around so you were in front. He placed his hands on your shoulders, practically gluing himself to your backside.

“That’s why we have to go.” He urged quietly into your ear. He could feel your ass rubbing against him through his jeans, making him almost regret walking so close with you. He couldn’t make eye contact with the register attendant, not when she bore a resemblance far too close to his own grandmother.

“Have a good day!” You beamed at the woman. Sam didn’t know how you did it, not when he was growing harder against you by the second. He mumbled something that resembled your words, his fingers gently gripping onto you.

Sam guided you to the left, eyes trained on his apartment building. He saw the path in his mind – door, stairs, door, door, bed –, but before he could point out the direction he wanted you to head in, he was slammed against the side of a building.

His face contorted into confusion. One look at your face – at your blown pupils and flushed cheeks – had that confusion morphing into smug understanding. He took in a breath, meaning to speak, boast about you being the horny one. His words were snuffed out before they had a chance to get out, your lips locking onto his.

His curious thoughts as to how you were able to push his six-foot-four frame into this alleyway in the first place were replaced with a hurricane of you. He put those panic attack prevention techniques Dean had taught him to good use now, finding anxiety and love – or was it only lust? – to have similar effects on his heart.

Five things he could feel: your lips notching into his, your hands tugging his neck down, your hair tangling in his fingers, your thighs squeezing around his knee (he’d skillfully nudged it in between your legs just moments before), and your tongue pressing into his.

Were they all supposed to be about the same person?

Fine.

Five things he could hear: your his heartbeat thundering in his chest, your breaths heaving into his mouth, your little whimpers as he–

Fuck, he was in trouble. He could feel it, just as he had felt it freshman year in that damn psychology class when he first made eye contact with you.

You were going to create a whole lot of chaos in his life. One way or the other, his heart was yours, his entire being was yours.

What the hell? He didn’t do this. He didn’t act like such a fucking sap, no matter what Dean tried to give him shit for. It wasn’t as if he was against relationships. If he had it his way, he’d have been taken off the market in that first moment he’d seen you.

Instead, he gave hook ups a try. He’d left that to Dean in high school, letting his education take center stage even when he barely had to study for anything.

He didn’t fuck mindlessly. He gave those girls a good time, helping them come as many times as they pleased, and he always gave aftercare. No question about it, Sam was a giver more than he was a taker.

It was just… he didn’t really care about them.

Okay, shit, that sounded bad. He cared, but he didn’t… love them. Love. There it was again. He felt like a child for thinking that way, saying he loved you when he’d only just formally met you.

It was true, of course, because why would anything in his life be ‘normal.’ He loved you. He just wasn’t going to tell you that, not right now while making out next to a dusty-ass Honda.

“Stop.” Sam mumbled, immediately cursing himself for even uttering a mention of that word. He didn’t want to stop. In fact, it was the last thing he wanted to do.

You pulled away, lips peeling from his like they had a mind of their own and didn’t want to let go either. You settled down from your tiptoes, feet flat on the ground and pout set on your face.

“You want to stop?” Your voice purred out to him, tempting him like a siren song to a lonely sailor. He cursed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut like it was all a dream.

He opened his eyes again and, guess what? Not a dream. There you were, standing beautiful as ever with those swollen lips and messy hair.

“No, God, of course I don’t want to stop.” Sam’s voice was hushed. He didn’t know why he felt the need to be so gentle with you. It wasn’t because you couldn’t handle tough. There was no doubt in his mind that you could fight a battle on your own and come out victorious. Maybe he just didn’t want to be the thing to hurt you.

He brought his thumb up to swipe across your bottom lip, smearing the shine of spit that lingered there. He tugged it down, letting your teeth peek through while you looked up at him, waiting for more.

“I saw this going a bit differently…,” he mumbled, gaze still trained on your lip as he pulled his hand away from your face.

“Less kissing?” You asked with a grin that told him you knew it wasn’t that.

“No,” he let out a soft chuckle, “more kissing, actually. Just… laying down, in my bed.” He thought for a moment. “Less clothes,” he added with a teasing smile.

He watched the words register in your mind, watched your hands curl into fists as if you were trying to control yourself just as much as he was. Your throat moved slightly when you swallowed, drawing his attention to your neck.

Your neck, which was already pretty enough on its own but – in Sam’s personal opinion – would look so much better with a few nibbles bruised into it.

“We can remedy that. The ‘less clothes’ thing.” Your eyes narrowed and he knew you were simply digging a deeper grave for his ability to have casual sex. “And all the rest of that. Maybe add some of how I thought tonight would go.”

“How you thought it would go?” He questioned with a raised brow.

He shouldn’t have asked that because the smirk it elicited had him holding back a groan of desperation.

“You know,” you shrugged, running your tongue across your teeth, “your head in between my thighs, getting that pretty face a little wet.”

Oh. My. God.

Sam was about to fucking bust and you’d barely touched him.

“You think I’m pretty?” He asked, avoiding replying to the other stuff because it would only end up with a public indecency charge. You scoffed, reaching out to clutch his hoodie.

“That’s what you got out of that?” Sam heard the annoyance, but he knew how to read through it. You were throwing it in there on purpose, using that attitude that would be the absolute death of him. He bent down, face level with yours now.

“I got a lot more out of it, trust me. Sounds like we need to pick things up and take them across the street.” He leaned his head forward to speak in your ear. “I’m hoping to get my face more than ‘a little’ wet.”

He smirked at the visible shiver that ran through you. He pulled back, kissed you one last time – because how could he not? –, and stood up straight, pulling you into his chest with one arm.

He swore you were about to sprint to the apartment building, but maybe that was just his ego talking.

—

You were actually about to sprint into this guy’s place. You held yourself back, somehow, forcing your legs to move at a quick but normal pace. Sam’s arm around your shoulders wasn’t helping your self-control and you had a feeling he knew that.

You didn’t know what was going on. This wasn’t you. Sure, you had said ‘no hook ups during competition season’, but it was more of ‘no hook ups ever.’ You’d had your casual flings and occasional one-night stands, of course.

They hadn’t felt like this. They weren’t horrible, you’d gotten off and left whoever’s bed satisfied. It was different with Sam.

Wild. Hungry. Desperate. Gasoline to fire.

You felt like he wanted you for you, not just another warm body in his bed. You tried to tell yourself it was stupid to be feeling this way. It didn’t work. Not when he was groaning your name and smashing his lips to yours the moment the door closed behind him.

You melted against him, letting your entire body fall into his. He caught you, because of course he did. It only added to your heart’s reach for him.

You felt his arms flex around you, holding you tight to his body. A whimper – oh, you were gone – vibrated from your throat, encouraging Sam to lift you. His hands slid down to the backs of your thighs, pulling them up to help you wrap your legs around his waist.

You arched into him, practically climbing his body now. He still had to bend his neck to kiss you, but now his face was angled up with you tugging on his hair to keep him like that. He grunted and you felt his fingers digging into your thighs.

You heard a few thuds, presumably things falling to the ground as Sam walked to his bedroom. Honestly, you couldn’t care less about whatever destruction was left in your wake. You wanted Sam, and you wanted him now.

Bump.

That was the back of your head against a bedroom – Sam’s bedroom – door. You cringed, ducking your head forward.

“Jesus Christ…” Sam mumbled, immediately cradling your head with one of his hands. His fingers weaved into your hair. You were about to pull back to ask him if he was always this clumsy when you felt him kiss your head. Repeatedly.

“What are you doing?” You giggled out, trying to twist away from the constant peppering of kisses into your hair. It only encouraged him to continue.

Eventually, you cupped his face in your hands, smushing his cheeks together and pushing his head back gently. You raised a brow at him, panting, half from the previous making out, half from your overabundance of laughter at Sam’s actions.

“I was ‘kissing it better,’” he explained, a goofy grin on his face. His words were muffled a bit due to your hold still on his face.

“You know that doesn’t actually work, right?”

“Does your head hurt?” He asked, adjusting his grip on your thighs. When you shook your head, his smile widened. “See?”

“It wasn’t from the kisses.” You argued. You couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed. It was too… sweet, too innocent of a gesture from him. It made your heart swell when he raised a brow and nodded confidently.

“It was totally from the kisses.” He told you. He didn’t give you a chance to argue back. His lips were back on yours, the door behind you finally opening to allow you passage inside.

Sam stepped into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Apparently he hadn’t meant to do that because a second later he mumbled an ‘oops’ against your lips. You smiled into the kiss, dipping your hands under the neckline of his shirt to touch his bare skin.

Suddenly, your world was tilting, and not just in the metaphorical sense. He lowered you to the bed, slow, your hair falling back to hang behind you like you were falling. His lips were fervent on you, sucking on your bottom lip in a way that made you whimper for more.

Sam hovered over you, hand sliding from under your thigh to your ass. He squeezed softly, pulling a moan from the back of your throat, something you didn’t know was a thing. When was the last time you moaned from a simple squeeze?

You hadn’t noticed the shift of his lips, his kissing moving from the center of your lips to the corner, then your cheek, then your jaw, ultimately landing on that little spot on your neck that was the most sensitive. You whined low and long at the nip he gave it, somehow knowing that was the perfect place to do it.

“So sensitive,” he teased, words mumbled against your skin.

“I am not-,” you started to argue back when he nibbled at the spot again, proving his point to be accurate. You lifted your hips up, needing to meet his in an attempt to get some friction where you really needed it. His hand flew to your side, holding you down.

“Is this what you want?” Sam asked, eyes serious. You narrowed your eyes at him, lips curling in confusion. “Is this, the hooking up, the sex, actually what you want?” He clarified, thinking you were unclear about what he meant.

“What gave you the impression it wasn’t what I wanted?” You thought back on your reactions thus far. Moans, whimpers, and grinding? Were those not clear indicators that you wanted to fuck this man?

“You just-,” you watched him shake his head, “you said, before…,” he noticed the amused expression on your face as you took in his blustering. “Pretty girl,” he said, no stutter heard this time, “do you want to have sex with me, tonight, in this bed?”

You cracked a wide grin.

“Mmm, so the university did give you guys that consent talk last week.” You teased, remembering how irritated the hockey coach had looked coming out of a conference room, a crowd of boisterous hockey players behind him with handfuls of condoms. Sam groaned, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder.

You decided to put him out of his misery since, well, you were kind of getting desperate to take your clothes off, too.

“Yes, Sam Winchester, I want to have sex with you, tonight, in this bed.” You declared. Upon hearing this, he lifted his head, looking at you like a golden retriever that had just been offered a treat.

“Thank God,” he murmured with a grin, jumping straight into peppering kisses all over your face, much like that same golden retriever would have. You laughed, loud and unrestrained, shaking your head back and forth in an attempt to get him to let up on you, if only to let you breathe.

“Sam!” You squealed, hands clutching at his chest. He laughed with you, kissing lower until he was at your collarbone. His attack on you turned slower and sloppier, his tongue flattening against your skin with every kiss.

It was safe to say you weren’t laughing anymore.

Panting breaths left your lips, growing sharper as he touched you. Your eyes fluttered shut, making you focus solely on how good his mouth felt on you.

“Sam…,” you said again, this time slow and needy. You moaned as he moved lower, lips and tongue and teeth running over the tops of your breasts. You’d worn that v-neck shirt for a reason and it was paying off immensely now.

Sam’s hands held loose on your hips, not to hold you back from moving, more like he needed to just have you in his grasp. You found yourself needing the same thing, needing more than just touching him. You wanted to stay here forever, with his attention on you and only you, worshipping your body like a proper disciple.

You spread your legs wider to allow his shoulders through them, his head now hovering above your stomach. You looked down at him, eyes locking with his. He curled his fingers around the hem of your shirt and you prepared to help him rid you of the garment. Instead of pulling it up your body, he grinned mischievously and tucked his head under the fabric.

Your jaw dropped as he moved, part of you shocked that he was now trying to force his wide torso into your shirt, the other part forgetting what the hell was going on because he was licking up your abdomen. He wiggled up your body, peeking at you from under the neckline.

“You’re stretching it out!” You protested when you heard a pop. Sam smiled at you goofily, locking eyes as he kissed your sternum. You narrowed your eyes. “I’m never going to be able to wear this shirt again.” You grumbled.

“Take one of mine.” He mumbled, eyes closing as he kissed sloppily at the skin just above the cup of your bra.

“What?” You scoffed, using every bit of willpower you had to not whimper at the graze of his teeth. Take one of mine, he had said. If you were up for thinking of more than what position you wanted to put Sam in, you would have come up with a witty comeback instead of feigning confusion.

“One of my shirts. Take it, as a replacement.” His hazel eyes popped open again, a smirk growing on his face. “Or all of them, if you want. You’ll have your pick of them.”

“What about this one?” You questioned, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie. He raised an eyebrow, the look in his eye telling you he knew exactly what you were playing at. He slithered out from under your shirt, sitting on his knees between your legs. He looked down at you as you instinctively checked yourself.

Sure enough, the fucking shirt was stretched out in the most unflattering way.

“Told you…,” you mumbled, glaring at him with only the slightest bit of irritation, which quickly dissipated to nothing when he started to pull his hoodie off, taking with it the t-shirt that had been underneath.

What you were left with was his bare upper body practically taunting you. Pecs, abs, and the most bite-worthy biceps you’d ever laid your eyes on. You met Sam’s eyes again, an open-mouthed smile taking over your face.

He dropped the hoodie-shirt bundle off the side of the bed just in time for you to pull him down onto you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, hands pawing at his shoulders, your lips smashing onto his in a sloppy mix of tongue and teeth.

“Mmm…,” you hummed appreciatively when he squeezed softly at your breast. Even with the cushion of your shirt and bra, you could feel his hand almost on your skin, making you want – no, need – more.

“Take it off,” you panted into his mouth. “Take it off, my shirt, take it off, now.” You were demanding and desperate, not able to find it in yourself to mask how you felt in that moment. To his credit, Sam listened well.

He dragged that useless garment over your head. His hands immediately went to your sides, fingers grazing over your ribs hungrily. You grinned up at him, pulling him back down, because what the fuck was he doing not kissing you?

Your tongues met before your lips did, twisting around each other in such a way that made you both groan. You arched your body up into him and he took the opportunity to slip his hands under you. You felt his calloused touch roaming against your spine, scraping on your skin in a heavenly fashion.

“You… feel so… good.” Sam groaned out that last word, tugging you closer to him. You let out a shuddering breath, not able to stop the whimper that followed it.

Fuck it, you thought. Let him see how badly he made you ache for more. It wasn’t as if it was one sided, that much was clear.

Sam knocked your legs apart, pressing his body into yours. He cupped a hand under your knee, bringing your leg up to hook around his body. You felt him through his jeans, straining in the denim and rubbing against your core just right. He was kissing you so intensely, with so much raw starvation, that his entire body rolled with the movements of his head, creating a steady nudge, nudge, nudge onto your clit.

Damn, he was right, you really were sensitive. That friction was creating a stew of whimpers in your throat, non-stop noise humming from you while you sucked on his tongue. Whimpers that quickly turned to gasping moans when his hand slithered into your pants, under those lacy panties you’d picked out specially for him and right onto your dripping heat, cupping over it to make you feel.

And, oh God, did you feel. You felt it all, every ridge of his fingers against your folds, the flex of his knuckles when he put on the slightest bit of pressure. You rocked into his hand, chasing more, more, more-

“More.” You moaned. Sam’s open-mouthed kisses on your cheek shifted up into another one of those grins that would have you smiling back if his thumb hadn’t started circling your clit. You sucked in a sharp breath.

“Oh, that’s good,” you nodded, still trying to play it casual, even with his fingers dipping in and out of your slick folds. “That’s,” you swallowed, “that’s so good!” On that last word, Sam had pressed his thumb flat on your clit, making you squeal in pleasure.

You felt his mouth go to your ear, breath hot against the side of your head.

“Let it go.” He whispered, not elaborating on what he meant. He didn’t have to. You knew what he meant, knew that he was aware of the fact that you were trying your hardest to fully control the situation.

Unfortunately for him, you were stubborn. You swallowed down another moan, tensing your jaw. You felt him toying with your entrance, dipping the tip of his index finger in and out. You bit your lip, hard, as you fought back a whine.

Sam noticed your struggle, feeling your muscles tense up under him from the struggle to not give in, not yet. You didn’t know why you felt the need to drag it out so far, to lie to both him and yourself about the effect he had on you. His response to your persistence was to slobber a kiss onto your quivering chin.

“Give it up already, pretty girl.” He mumbled, locking eyes with you. You narrowed yours at him, looking down at him through your lashes. You had a new dose of motivation to never give it up, making it your personal mission to keep full, total control of how you reacted to each and every one of his touches.

A personal mission that immediately failed the moment he plunged a finger into you.

You choked on your breath, your eyes falling shut. An embarrassingly animalistic sound vibrated in your chest.

“Mhm, there you go.” Sam chuckled when your thighs squeezed around his hand. He worked his finger slowly out, then right back in again.

“Feels so good…,” you whimpered, gasping like you couldn’t quite get enough air. You opened your eyes to find him smirking at you, a cocky sense of pride in his expression. Your gaze flitted down to his arm, where you watched his tendons flex under his skin while he moved his finger – oh, fingers, plural, he’d added another – inside of you.

“I know.” He nodded, lowering his mouth back onto yours. You groaned into him, rolling your hips down and down and-

Right there. Fuck, that was it, a mix of your clit getting swirled by his thumb and his fingers curling up inside you to hit the perfect spot, making for quite the perfect amount of pleasure to build up. You cried out a moan, sucking in breaths in between his sloppy kisses.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Sam murmured into your mouth, “I don’t know if I’ll fit.”

Even in your haze of pleasure, you couldn’t keep from replying to his cocky pride.

“Shut up and make me come.” You growled, grinding against his hand. He smirked, pressing down harder on your clit. You arched your back up with a sharp whine, clutching at his arm to hold onto something, anything to ground yourself to the moment. You were floating, not physically, but in every other way you possibly could.

“Come on, pretty girl, let me see that gorgeous face when you come.” He encouraged, voice deep and husky. “I want to see it again.” He shifted, pulling you in closer, eyes peering at you through lashes.

You couldn’t help but just… give in.

Your orgasm came to you with a flash of Heaven. Seriously, you swore you could hear angels singing to you. A soft, groaning noise fell from your lips, cut off by Sam kissing you with so much hunger you thought he would devour you.

He worked you through it, pumping his fingers with a sloppy rhythm that had you whimpering long after your release passed through. Once you had settled, body completely at ease, he pulled his digits from you, slipping them back out into the open air.

You saw the shine of yourself on them, the milky, slightly sticky liquid coating them. You dragged your eyes back to his face, catching the way his gaze was fixed on his own fingers. Your mouth parted as he guided them to his lips, taking them into his mouth with a guttural moan that had your need for more returning to your gut.

Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you tore his fingers from his mouth, replacing them with your lips. Your tongue pressed into his mouth, swiping through the spit that had accumulated within. There. You tasted yourself – your cum – mixing with what you knew was him.

A high moan reverberated through you. You clutched at his torso, pawing at whatever you could grab onto. You just needed him. There was something inside you, something deep and raw, that only he could satisfy.

You ripped away from him, panting. Your body trembled with the overwhelming urge to completely rip the rest of his clothes away.

“I knew you’d taste good.” Sam mumbled, fingers digging into your sides. You playfully rolled your eyes, absentmindedly running a finger down his abdomen.

“You know how to use your fingers well.” You pointed out with a shrug, eyes falling to his bare chest. With Sam’s rough chuckle, you looked back up to see a grin on his face.

“Are we just going to compliment each other all night?” He questioned. In response, you huffed out a sarcastic laugh.

“If you were to keep running your mouth, I wouldn’t be surprised.” You rolled your hips down, hard but measured. “Me? I think I’d rather talk less, touch more.” You watched Sam’s jaw flex, presumably with the effort to not completely moan like you knew he wanted to.

“I like your plan better,” was the last thing said before a flurry of grabbing and clothes flying ensued.

You swore all you’d done was blink and suddenly you both were naked, sitting on your knees across from each other on his bed. His eyes scraped over your bare skin, spending the most time focused on your now-bare breasts and what little he could see of your throbbing core.

Your attention? It was trained solely on his length. The tip was leaking with the ache to get inside of you, flared red and staring you straight in the eye. That wasn’t even the most mouthwatering part. It may not have been the thickest you’d ever seen, but for what he lacked in width he made up for in length. You weren’t the best with measuring things by eye alone, though you figured a ruler wouldn’t be too much longer than it.

Fuck, maybe he really wouldn’t fit in you.

It seemed Sam was reading your thoughts, because only moments after the words popped into your head, his smug reply made you glare up at him.

“Told ya, pretty girl.”

“You’re not that big.” Lie. You both knew it.

“Big enough for you to drool over.” He smirked at you, the tip of his tongue peeking through his teeth.

“I am not drooling.” You protested. It wasn’t a total lie this time. You really weren’t drooling, and the sudden overproduction of spit in your mouth had nothing to do with this god of a man in front of you. That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

“Mmm, totally drooling.” Sam mumbled. Your response was cut off by his large hands on your face, smashing his lips to yours. Tongues and teeth gnashed together, moans and whimpers mixing to echo off of the drywall of the room. You hoped these walls were thick. That thought, and every other, dripped away from your mind the moment Sam hoisted you onto his lap, his thick erection pressing against your dripping folds.

“Want… oh my God-,” you had to catch your breath when a slight shift in his position had your clit getting rubbed ever so nicely. “Do you want me to ride you, cowboy?” You’d added that last part in a purr after remembering the drawl of “darlin’” during your first meeting.

Sam’s grin tilted a bit, mouth parting as he looked at you as if you’d said something outrageous.

“What?” You were on the defensive, narrowing your eyes. You let out a shaky breath when he rocked his hips up, a deliberate motion, you realized a second later when his grin grew cockier.

“Cowboy?” He almost scoffed out, chuckling when you frowned at him. This time you rocked, making his eyes flutter softly. The break in his smug demeanor only egged you on.

“You-,” you swallowed down a whimper when Sam surreptitiously pressed your body down into his, earning him a glare that really would have been more annoyed if your skin wasn’t buzzing from the pleasure. “You have a slight accent.” You rushed the words out before they could be broken by a moan.

“I’m from Kansas.” He explained, giving you a boyish grin you were sure had wooed all the moms at school pickup. You let out a soft laugh at the image of a young-Sam – Sammy – getting out of trouble with a simple smile.

“Kansas?” You asked, tilting your head slightly. “Like Dorothy?” You hoped he’d get the reference, hoped the little joke wouldn’t fall flat.

“You’re so weird.” Sam chuckled out, swooping down to kiss you again. You, in response to his playful insult, ducked away, causing his kiss to land on the corner of your lips.

“You’re the one who barked at me!” You argued, looking at him like he was crazy. That moment, the playful banter that had happened only moments after he’d made you come for the first time, had been running through your mind on a loop, bringing a warm smile to your face even during practices. Practices, you know, the time you were usually the most disciplined and focused. God help you from this charming distraction.

“You called me a dog. How else was I supposed to respond, pretty girl?” Sam’s tone held a note of condescension that you couldn’t help but grin at. You shifted, moving your hips as a result, reminding you – in a particularly sinful way – what had been happening before this little spat.

“Are we going to argue about who’s weirder all night, or are you going to fuck me?” You raised a brow, challenge clear in your eyes. You watched a spark of playful determination cross Sam’s gaze. You felt two things: one, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, and two, his dick pressing against your folds, aching for more friction.

“I’m going with the latter.” Sam growled, smashing his lips to yours to cut off your giggle, quickly morphing your response into a moan. You panted into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut when he skillfully rocked your body down.

“Condom.” You breathed out, pushing on his shoulders to break the kiss. He grinned, leaning back and twisting to reach for his nightstand, causing those damn hips to lift up into yours. You bit back a whimper, refusing to entirely show Sam how desperate you were for another release.

He sat back up, a gold-foiled package in between two fingers – the same two fingers that had been inside of you earlier. You snatched it up, eager to get this thing going so you could finally feel that mind-numbing pleasure again.

“Just can’t wait to get me inside you, huh?” You weren’t looking at Sam, but you knew he was grinning from his tone alone.

“Shut up.” You grumbled, tearing open the packaging. The small groan that came from Sam when you slowly rolled the condom onto him made a smirk cross your face, giving you a sense of pride that you weren’t the only one who was going to be vocal tonight.

You looked up at him. His pupils were blown wide, crazy with a hunger only you could satisfy. You figured you looked similarly, if not more, needy, if the growing buzz in your body to just get his damn cock inside you was enough of an indicator.

Positioning him at your entrance was much more difficult than you had expected it to be. You would have gotten it, first try, if it wasn’t for the slip of his tip against your already sensitive clit, pulling a body-buckling moan from you. You let your pride step aside for a moment and allowed Sam to help guide himself to the correct spot, his large hand overtaking yours in the process. You tried – and failed – to not shiver at the size difference.

“I know you’re eager to feel me in there, but take it slow, okay?” Sam told you, raising a brow while he waited for your answer. You had half a mind to push away from him for talking to you with so much condescension. Unfortunately – or, rather, fortunately for your sex drive – the almost mocking tone of his voice sent a bloom of heat straight for your core.

You would hyper analyze that later. Right now, you were more focused on the first inch of his length sliding into you. Thanks to your previous orgasm mixed with the spasms of pleasure Sam’s words and body brought on, it was a reasonably smooth entrance.

“O-hhh…,” you let out with a shaky breath, eyes fluttering, but not closing, at the stretch. Sam’s fingers dug into your hips, helping you sink down.

“That’s it,” he mumbled, eyes glued to his quickly disappearing dick,“taking it so well.”

Once you were completely down, seated directly onto his hips, you just looked into his eyes, admiring the hazel hue of them. You kissed him soft and slow. It wasn’t hungry like the other kisses, though this would have been the time to do it. Those had sparked a flame of desire in you, making your body tingle. This one sparked something else. Maybe desire, but not in the same way.

Another thing to hyper analyze later.

You sucked in a breath after pulling away, hands still resting on his shoulders as you began to slide up and down. An occasional roll of your hips pulled groans from Sam, groans that, in turn, made you whimper in enjoyment.

“Fuck,” you both seemed to moan at the same time. You watched his face while you moved, eyes drifting over every expression and feature.

His brows furrowed in concentration. His lips parting to allow those enchanting noises to escape. His cheeks were flushed with a light pink brought on by the heat and passion emanating from you both.

All of it made you speed your pace, chasing more, more–

“More.” Sam whined so quiet you almost missed it. Whining? From the 6’4” hockey defenseman? You must have been hearing things.

“More.” Okay, this time it was less whine, more growl. It still stunned you, making your hips stutter to take in this new information.

Sam Winchester was a needy lover.

“Did you just-,” you started to ask, a grin spreading over your face.

“Shut up.” He growled, large hands splayed across your skin.

In a flash, you were on your back, Sam hovering over you. Oh, you liked this. Now he was doing all the work, thrusting into you at a quick but controlled pace.

“Oh my God,” you moaned, throwing your head back. He took this opportunity to latch onto your neck, teeth, tongue, and lips scraping over every inch of skin they could. Your body arched up into his. Your mind blurred with intense pleasure.

“Shit,” Sam groaned, “so good, pretty girl, so, so, fucking good.” He was panting into you.

Before tonight, you never understood the meaning of mind-blowing sex. Yeah, you almost always enjoyed yourself, but it was never so good you couldn’t think.

This? This was mind-blowing, breath-stealing, skin-tingling, out-of-this-world sex.

“You close again, pretty girl? You ready to come?” Sam asked in short, panted breaths.

Yes. Oh, God, you were so ready to come. It actually hurt a little to hold it back, but you weren’t eager to untangle from him this quickly. You couldn’t answer him. You had to stay laser-focused on not coming.

“Mmm, yeah, baby, I know you are. Stop fighting it.” He purred into your ear, lightly nibbling on your earlobe.

A whiny moan left your throat. It was getting very difficult to hold it back now, especially with the light curve of a smirk you felt brushing over your skin. You could do it. You just had to-

“Ah!” You gasped out.

All control in Sam’s pace was gone. He’d gone from steady, calculated thrusts to this animalistic speed. You heard the bedframe smacking against the wall in time with the push-and-pull pressure on your pelvis. Your nails scraped over his shoulder blades as you grappled for something, anything to hold onto.

There was no holding it back anymore. Your orgasm crashed over you, bathing your body in a numb ecstasy. Your panting breaths came out with a light whine attached. Then, as if he had been waiting for the feeling of you squeezing around him, Sam groaned with his release, shoving his hips as far as they could go into you.

Your trembling subsided, leaving you laying there, spent, with Sam’s entire body on yours. You suspected he was still using whatever strength he had left to hold himself up a bit, because there was no way he was this light.

He shifted, pulling out of you slowly, carefully. You winced at the sudden emptiness you felt, your eyes fluttering shut. You felt the mattress move slightly, some rustling, a soft sigh. It all felt hyper-real in your post-sex state. The dip of his body weight on the bed next to you told you he was back.

“Come on, pretty girl, sit up for me.” Sam mumbled, causing you to open your eyes. There he was, dressed in his boxers, holding that damn Stanford hoodie and a towel. Your heart melted when he gently wiped at your thighs and sensitive center, cleaning you as best he could. Your heart ached when he helped slide the hoodie on you, the fabric all but swallowing you up in a soft cloud of him.

Then, your heart exploded when he fell into position next to you, curling an arm around you with a book in his hand. You didn’t need to look, not really, to know what it was. Still, you did.

There it was. A love-worn copy of The Hobbit.

You looked up at him with tired eyes. You were sure they were sparkling with something that was different from the lust that had flooded them earlier. He just grinned down at you, pulling his blankets up to wrap around you two.

“Figured we’d better get started on it.” Sam mumbled, gently opening the book to the first page. “Eyes closed and imagination on, honey.”

You were speechless as he began to read, his voice husky but soft.

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.”

ICEBREAKER tags: @gigiwritess @h8aaz @angzls @myceliumsunshine @unfortunaterat @mimiimmii @youdontknowe

everything tags: @littlejackles @sacr1ficialang3l @blossomingorchids @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @mostlymarvelgirl @missus-ackles @tinas111 @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @saltcxrcle

sam winchester tags: @hobiespick @xoswiftieprincess @whothefvckami

#gabs ⛤ reblogs .ᐟ #zoe i need this printed onto my eyelids #GUYSSSSS #IM OBSESSED #HE READS AFTER UGH I NEED HIM #sam winchester #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader smut

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