samlicker81 - Tumblr blog

[samlicker81]

Been inactive for a little while :P New Chapter coming soon!

Lucky | Part 5

Sam X Reader

Summary: You’re unlucky in love when you find a lost wallet outside a bar and are smitten with the photo on the ID inside.  Could your luck have turned, or have you found yourself in the middle of something unfortunate?

Warnings: nightmares, bed sharing, cuddling, angst, dumb flirting

Word Count: 2.9K

Series Masterlist

You finally got the timeline nailed down with Sam filling in the holes. You were abducted from your home somewhere between four and five in the morning on Sunday, after your shift. Kept in pitch blackness, and in and out of consciousness due to a significant concussion and blood loss, there was no way of knowing that the entire day passed. Sam and Dean were able to locate and make it to the nest by nightfall. Monday morning found you here at the motel, after driving through the night to put a significant distance between you and what was left of your captors.

You called Emily, the only person who’d really worry about you, on a burner phone Dean let you use. But since then, the only people you’ve had contact with are these mysterious brothers. If you can call it contact. The past two days have been spent with Sam clicking away at a laptop in the corner of the room and making whispered phone calls in the bathroom, Dean leaving the place as much as possible and coming back smelling of booze or bacon to watch TV too loudly, and you sleeping off your concussion or listening to an audiobook on Sam’s IPod, because reading with your eyes still made you nauseous.

Evening is falling again as you lay on your bed pretending to sleep. Sam has his eyes on you almost every time you look up. It’s already been suffocating enough sharing the space with these two men without the constant puppy eyes.

Besides pain, anger is all you feel. You’re aware that it makes no sense to direct it at your rescuers, but you don’t care. Right now, they’re your new captors and it feels good to meet Sam’s overbearing glances with glares and his questions with silence or sarcasm. You’d snap at Dean too, but he left you alone. Sam keeps trying.

“Sammy. Outside.” Dean pokes his head in the room. You hit the pause button on the book you’re not listening to and strain your ears against the highway noise to catch the conversation drifting through the thin walls.

“I don’t like you going alone,” Sam’s voice rumbles.

“I won’t be alone. Two extra hunters are enough. We gotta get back there before they recoup too much. Or worse, move again.”

“You know what I mean. We don’t know these guys that well. They won’t have your back like I would.”

“I’m a big boy, Sammy. You’re still hurt, anyway. And you have to stay here with her. She trusts you more.”

You scoff at the same time Sam does. “She hates me, dude.” He mumbles something else too quiet for you to hear.

“You gotta stop doing this to yourself. None of this is your fault.”

“If I’d left her alone, they never would have come after her. They grabbed her the very next night after I staked out her place. Sebastian made it clear that it wasn’t a coincidence.” The guilt is heavy in his voice. You feel some of your own tighten in your chest. You might be being too hard on him.

“You can’t live like that, shutting everyone out. People get hurt whether you’re around or not. It’s not a crime to like someone every once in a while.”

“Dean…”

“Whatever, man. I’m meeting up with the guys now to game plan. I’ll be back late and then we leave bright and early.” Dean shuffles a bag and then his footsteps begin moving away from the door. “Don’t let her push you around too much while I’m gone!” he yells and then the car door slams.

You snap your eyes shut as the door clicks open. He doesn’t even try to be discreet when he comes around the bed and leans over you. He steps away and sighs, heading to the bathroom where you can hear him quietly place an order for Chinese food. He remembers to ask for no mushrooms in your stir fry.  

He flicks off the lights and tiptoes back to his corner, so he doesn’t disturb your fake slumber. He clicks at his computer, unaware of your turmoil.

A swirl of contrition, doubt, and frustration makes your head hurt. This time all of it is pretty much directed at yourself. Every spiteful action you’ve taken towards Sam comes back and pummels you in the gut. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew he never really deserved it. He’d only ever been nice. So annoyingly nice. Because he liked you? You press a thumb between your eyebrows, pushing away, not for the first time, the feelings you had when you met him. You feel like a silly teenager, denying your feelings, wanting to cry into a pillow, avoiding Sam as much as possible.

You’re a grown up. You can apologize. Just not right now.

-

You’re asleep before Dean gets back. The new unease in the presence of Sam, knowing you should talk to him, is making your head throb with a vengeance.

It isn’t the first time your dreams have taken a dark turn. You’re always back in that dark room. At least that’s where it feels like. You never saw the room where you were tied up, and your dream displays that same darkness. Every sense but sight is heightened. You hear every movement and hiss echo around you. You’re not tied up, but you can’t move. Hands grab at you, pulling hard at different limbs. Voices laugh at your cries as you lay helpless, only feeling the damage they leave to your lifeless form.

Sam wakes with a start when you cry out. The too small cot creaks as he extricates his aching body from it. Dean snorts loudly and groans, pulling a pillow over his head. Sam comes to your side and hesitates. Your face is scrunched up in obvious discomfort. His fingers twitch, wanting to smooth the lines between your brows. He wills himself to step away instead.

He’s almost back in bed when you start panting fast. This time he gives in to instinct, wrapping a hand around your ankle through the bedspread.

“Shh…It’s just a dream.”

The clawing hands turn to gentle caresses. Stroking your leg from knee to ankle, pushing hair from your forehead.

You blink and find moonlight streaming through cracks between thick green curtains. You shift in the sheets, grateful that you have control of your body again.

“You okay?” You jump hard at the gentle whisper. Sam’s hands move away from you and into his lap, but he stays seated on the edge of the bed by your feet. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You were having a nightmare again.”

You blink a couple of times at his shadowed face and then burst into tears.

The mattress rocks as he settles his large frame next to you, and you let him pull you into his arms. The gesture wrenches a quiet sob out of you. “I know, I get them too. It’s awful,” he whispers into your hair, a warm hand moving in soothing circles on your back.

“I–I’m so scared…all the time.” The admission chokes out of you and into his soaked shirtfront.

He pulls up your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Your breath hitches. Somehow the affectionate statement both warms your bones and twists like a sharp knife in your chest at the same time.

“Sam, I…I’m really sorry.”

“What?” He laughs in genuine shock. You pull back a little.

“You’ve gone out of your way to be nice to me and I’ve gone out of my way to make you miserable. You don’t deserve it,” you sniff. “I’m afraid. And I’m angry. But not at you.”

“You’ve gone through a lot.”

You roll your still teary eyes and let out a sad laugh, “Ugh, like that.” You sigh and pull your good arm out of his grasp to wipe at your nose. “Thank you for saving me. And thank you for keeping me safe. Even from my own dreams.” You try to laugh again, but it doesn’t come out right. You shudder and his arms flex automatically, pulling you into him again. You breathe in his warmth and clean linen scent. You’re suddenly very aware of how intimate the embrace is, being in your bed, and your stomach flutters. His heart beats too fast beneath your ear and you smile a little. He feels it too, but he doesn’t let go. You can’t deny it feels right.

“You get nightmares too?” You break the silence; it feels so good to talk.

“Yeah, it comes with the territory. Everything is different when you know what’s really out there. When you look evil in the face.”

“But this is what you do? You and your brother? You…hunt things?”

He chuckles dryly, “The family business. We never knew anything different, me and Dean. Our dad was a hunter. When we woke up afraid there was a monster in the closet, he came in with a shotgun.”

“Oh…I can’t imagine.”

“It’s not so bad. We save people, do what the cops can’t.” You nod against his chest, sniffling quietly. “You think you can sleep again?”

“Yeah, maybe. I feel like I haven’t slept in days. I know it looks like I just lay here and sleep all the time, but every time I close my eyes I’m back there. I feel like a kid afraid of the dark.”

“A very rational fear, really.” His long hair flops over his smiling face as he relinquishes you to your pillow and pulls the covers up. Your fingers still grip his hand. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Would you?”

“Let’s see…tiny cot, or pretty girl?” he quips, sliding under the covers.

You settle into his warmth, anxiety melting away. Your cheeks are still hot with the blush his flirty remark brought on when you fall back asleep.

Dean trips over the cot, just a few steps shy of slipping out. He squints in the still mostly dark room, finding the cot empty. His stomach flips for a second, head whipping around. He breathes a relieved chuckle, finding his brother deep in sleep with you barely visible in his arms. “Sammy, you dog…” He hikes his bag back up onto his shoulder and shuts the door quietly behind him.

-

You’re alone when you wake up from the best sleep you’ve had in days. Your head feels markedly clearer as you sit up.

The shower shuts off and your heart flutters. How quickly your body’s involuntary response has changed at the thought of Sam. He strolls out, lower half wrapped in a towel, top half bare and still beaded with water droplets. Your blush heats all the way down to your shoulders. He’s perfectly muscled, and you glimpse a tattoo brandishing his upper left chest before you look pointedly up at his face. His smile is just as disarming as his nakedness.

“You’re up. How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” you rub your eyes, still a little puffy from your cry. “I didn’t bother you?”

“Just one night on this thing is one too many; I’ll take a bed hog any day.” He folds the rickety cot in half easily with one hand, ignoring your indignant scoff. He grabs some clothes out of a duffel on the floor and heads back to the bathroom. “Get dressed,” he throws over his shoulder, “We’re going out.”

You don’t have a lot of options, but Dean did all right on his shopping trip. You move as quickly as one good arm will let you, excited to leave the much-resented motel room for the first time. Soon you’re dressed in some comfortable leggings and a T-Shirt, teeth brushed, and knots picked out of your hair with Sam’s tiny comb.

“Ready.” You beam. Sam, fully dressed now and stretched out on the tidy bed where he slept beside you, looks up from his laptop. He smiles back, pulling glasses off of his nose. You like the change: smiling when he looks at you instead of stares full of concern. He probably appreciates the lack of glares himself.

-

“A movie?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

“What, too regular for you?”

He laughs, “No, it sounds perfect actually.” He pulls out a familiar leather wallet and throws some cash on the table between your empty dishes. “I just can’t remember the last time I went to the movies.”

“We passed a theater a few blocks down.” You shrug, not ready to call it a day and hole back up in the motel.

“Lead the way.” He gestures, standing. It felt like the day at the library again. Being with him was easy. If you didn’t both look like you’d been in a car accident, you could almost imagine nothing crazy had ever happened.

The comforting, buttery smell of movie theater plasters a grin on your face. “I almost wish we hadn’t just eaten. Popcorn is my favorite.”

“Candy guy.” He smiles down at you.

“Oh yeah?”

“Ooohhh yeah. Anything sour.”

You walked into the very next movie they had showing, some sci-fi thing that you never would have picked in a million years. It was mediocre. Most of the day’s events had been mediocre, running errands for restocking the first aid kit, snack bag, plus some extra stuff for you to get by. And then an okay lunch followed by a passable movie.

It was the best day you’d had in a long time.

Your head hurts and your fingers are like sausages sticking out from your sling, but you can’t wipe a smile off your face as you walk back to the motel. You want to lace your fingers into the large hand swinging next to you. Besides some light flirting, everything has been above bar. You’re trying to work out a reason why he’d sleep next to you again instead of a perfectly good unused bed when his phone rings. He stops in his tracks.

“Dean, finally.” You can’t hear the other end, but his face darkens. “Okay. Yeah, we have more. Be careful.” He hangs up.

It’s him that reaches for your hand, but not in the way you pictured it. His long legs move quickly, pulling you behind him.

“The nest moved. They could be anywhere.” His words shoot ice-cold fear down your spine.

You struggle to keep up with his pace the whole way until he finally stops in the parking lot of the motel. He drops quickly to a knee. Is he tying his shoe? You’re about to question him, antsy to get inside and out of the darkening night, when he pulls up his pant leg and unstraps a long knife.

Shielded behind his back, you watch him thrust open the motel door in one quick movement. You stand in the corner while he checks the rest of the room. He grabs a bag and quickly heads for the door again.

“Stay here,” he directs firmly.

“Sam—” You hear the fear constricting your voice. His hand stops on the doorknob; the concerned eyes are back.

“I know. I’ll only be a minute, I promise.” And then he’s gone.

He’s true to his word, returning for you soon after he left. After being assured it’s safe, you reluctantly follow him back outside and around to the back of the building. He directs you to a strange smelling fire burning in a metal trashcan.

“It’s not perfect, but it can help throw them off. The smell.” With that, you move closer, reaching out a shaking hand to try and let the warmth draw the fear from you. His arm wraps around you and you lean into his side.

You stand quietly this way until the fire is down to smoking embers. “Come on,” he whispers, gently bringing you back to reality. He pulls the trashcan with him to the door. You sit on the end of the bed while he disables the smoke alarm, staring at the sliver of exposed skin above his belt as he reaches up with long arms.

The trashcan is left in the room to smoke it up while you both sit on the curb just outside. The smell is still heavy around you as smoke leaks from the open window. You’re grateful for his arm around you; the night is cold without the fire.

“I’m sorry. I want this to be over too.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” You only rest your aching head on his shoulder for a second before you snap it back up at his scoff. “Sam, I don’t blame you for any of this. I’d be dead without you.”

“You’d be at home still believing monsters aren’t real without me.”

You continue to stare at him, trying to catch his eye. “Well, I’m glad I met you.” It comes out angrier than you wanted it to. He finally meets your eyes. There is sadness there, but something else too.

In a second his lips are on yours. A shocked sigh leaves your mouth and enters his as his lips part. Your surprise and remaining dregs of fear melt away with the insistent heat of his mouth on yours. Too soon, he pulls away.

You’ve only just blinked open your heavy lids and he’s already pulled the metal can from the room and slammed a lid over it. He peers into the haze and looks back at you, eyes dark.

“It’s not too bad in there.” He jerks his head towards the open door and reaches out a hand for you.

[samlicker81]

New series on my other account!

Bittersweet & Strange | Part One

Sam X Fem!reader

Summary/Setting: Set in the early 19th century, girls who are born Omegas are often destined to sexual slavery. The lucky ones find a way to hide, protect themselves, or find someone who can do that for them.

Warnings: 18+, language, non con, dub con, sex trafficking/slavery, forced exhibitionism fingering, blood (small injury), bondage, a/b/o dynamics.

Word Count:  2.7K

A/N:  1. This is my first time writing an a/b/o fic. I love reading them (esp. if written by @thecleverdame), I’ve just never attempted writing. Feedback appreciated! 2. I used first person rather than second. I’m still finding what feels right to me. So far, this feels the most comfortable, even though most fics I see are written in second person. IDK. 

I was last. I knew what was going to happen to me. I just heard and caught glimpses through the cracks in the wooden walls of the fate every girl I’d come to know in the past two weeks. The girl just ahead of me held my hand the whole time until it was her turn. I think she’d been even younger than me, but I didn’t think it was her first time.

I knew.

But still fear rushed like ice water through my veins when a sharp prod struck me from behind. My feet moved forward to catch me and I found myself steps closer to meeting the same fate.

“To properly thank you fine gentleman for being such an…attentive audience, I have saved a very special treat for last. Number 16 is fresh and ripe, only-”

My ears started to ring as a sharper prod pierced the skin just under my right shoulder blade. The animated introduction carried on distantly around the corner, and from behind me there were grunted urgings to “fucking move” and whispered cries of “don’t break the skin idiot.” But they were muffled and barely registered in my mind with the shrill ringing threatening to make my eyes burst.

I don’t know why self preservation instincts took until this moment to kick in, but without a thought, I turned and rushed at the two lanky men pushing at my back. There was a moment, a few seconds, when they were so caught off guard that I had the upper hand. They lost their balance and stumbled back. I snaked my way between them. Only a few feet were gained before my head jerked back. I was pulled to my toes by a fistful of my long hair. The one who had jabbed my back put his big nose in my face, “Now are you going to go running through the streets bare ass naked?” I could smell his lunch on his breath, which must have just been liquor and onions.

“He’s stalling out there!” The nervous one scream whispered.

“This one needs an escort.” His smile was rotten.

Logically I knew this would still be the outcome, as I was dragged, sandwiched between the two lackeys onto the platform. My wrists strained against thin cords cutting into my skin and I kicked out my feet, hitting anything solid that I could.

“Ah, there she is, the little fighter.” The man before me laughed a little tightly. The only blessing would be to get away from him, but I doubted I’d be let go so easily. He had a  few names. He called himself the Proprietor to crowds and clients, but his minions called him Domino. The girls didn’t really ever address him, but anytime I heard a girl respond to him, they just used Sir.

Despite my valiant fight, I found myself propped on a stool hands tied behind me to the highest rung. The slightly reclined position forced me to support my weight on my palms. It also left me extremely exposed, shoulders back and breasts pressed up. I kept my knees locked together.

A twist of discomfort spiraled through my lower stomach and the fear kicked up another notch. My hips ached more than my forearms, trying to keep my legs as tightly pressed together as I could.

“Let’s start with the basics, shall we?” Domino began again. He swept a sleeve over my upper arm, smearing away blood from a ragged scrape I hadn’t noticed. He did the same at my back. He glared angrily toward where his men had retreated before he grasped my chin tightly. “She has an undeniably lovely face,” he turned back to his audience tilting my head from side to side. His finger pressed my lip upward. “And all her teeth, although that may not be a bonus.” He quickly snatched his finger from my mouth as the audience laughed. I felt heat bloom in my cheeks and spread down my chest. I wanted to believe it was just my fury, but shame played a part as well.

My only sin was being born an Omega. Both desirable and easily cast aside at the same time. An object. A whore.

“She’s got a healthy glow in these cheeks,” he gave my burning skin a pinch under each eye, “Never once been ill in my care.” I wanted to laugh at his use of the word ‘care,’ but just then, my chest seized as I was suddenly gripped with pain in my abdomen. I held my breath. This can’t be happening. Not now.

“Now for the more important bits, yes gentlemen?” There were several whoops of agreement. A gasp slipped out as his hand reached out and grabbed my left breast, squeezing until flesh domed between his fingers. “What would you call this?” He queried his audience.

“Tits!” someone yelled stupidly. Shouts began ringing out.

“Too small!”

“God’s gift to men!”

“A perfect handful!”

“There it is!” Domino bellowed, halting the shouting. “A perfect handful!” Emphasizing his words, he shook my flesh a little before letting my breast fall. I wanted to vomit. It didn’t help that I was feeling a steady pain in my gut now. A thin sheen of sweat had broken out across my skin.

“Now, for the moment we’ve all been waiting for!” The Proprietor had to shout over the din.

The audience was becoming rowdy. I couldn’t see most of them. They were surrounded by night, while hot lamp light surrounded the platform. The first few untidy rows were full of greedy, jeering faces, mostly ugly, old men who could only bed a girl for a price. My eye caught one palming the front of his tented breeches before I snapped them shut. I tried to breathe deeply through my pain.

A hand wrenched between my knees. My shaking thighs were no match for his prying force, exposing the last bit of me.

My ears rang as the crowd roared. Distantly, I felt cords wrap around my ankles, tying them to the middle rung of the stool in my new position.

I felt a finger swipe through the center of me. My eyes flew open and I bit down on my tongue to keep from crying out. “Well, well, well, fine sirs…prepare yourselves. The price has gone up.” He strode forward displaying his fingers glistening with wetness. “The bitch is in heat.”

My hopes and efforts to hide it were futile.

An Alpha might have known right when I was dragged center stage, but this disgusting man was no Alpha, as high as his figurative horse was.

He took a few steps back to my side and wiped his fingers on the front of my thigh, his dirty fingers leaving a dark smudge. “With that, we will start the bidding. Do I hear-”

An abrupt flood of heat and pain rushed through me, my rapidly beating heart skipped impossibly faster. It felt like all my senses were hit with lightning, making them all fade to black. A scent was left in my nose, sort of spicy or piney like the woods. I scanned the crowd with spots in my vision. Hands were shooting up all over, bidding on me. It didn’t take long for my eyes to land on him.

Somehow, my eyes picked up every detail. He had a narrow pointed nose, strong jaw, and what appeared to be entirely black eyes. At the back of the crowd, he stood a head taller than any other man. The rest of his shape was hidden by a long black cloak, although it couldn’t obscure the broadness of his shoulders. Overall, he screamed Alpha. He made me want to scream “Alpha.” His frame was stock still, and I felt…anger radiating in the space around him.

A small hint of fear sparked in me, but it was drowned in the crazed desire that was coming over me. I willed myself to stay still, even as my chest heaved.

I started to feel my practiced control winning out when I felt a light tickle on my collarbone. A feather had materialized in Domino’s hand. His voice sounded distant, “-you can do better than that, look how desperate she is for you.” I clamped my mouth shut, my breath hissing through my nose. I felt my hair brushing my white knuckles clamped around the rung of the stool as my head tilted back. The feather had reached between my,  shaking legs sticking to the wetness there. I nearly gagged, choking back the cry in my throat. The smell of the ominous Alpha seemed to be getting stronger.

As suddenly as the torture began, it stopped. My eyes fluttered open to see the Alpha standing over me, one leather gloved hand wrapped around Domino’s wrist, gripping tight enough that the feather shook. The other hand pressed a jingling satchel into his chest. Domino’s face did not betray the fear I knew he felt. He caught the money before it fell as the Alpha drew back his hand and made short work of my bindings. Before I could make sense of what was happening I was propped up on my wobbly legs, a warm cloak was heavy on my shoulders, finally concealing me. Two hands added to the heaviness at my shoulders, keeping me upright. They gripped tighter as I leaned sideways to wretch.

“Can you walk?” His voice was deep and warm, exactly as I would have imagined it would sound. I shook my heavy head and in one sweeping motion I was in his arms.

“Wait, wait chap! You have paid to have her for one time only. For a little extra, you can have a room too.” Domino’s yellow teeth showed and the crowd chuckled behind us.

With a growl, another handful of coins was thrown at the Proprietor’s feet and I was swept off of the platform, leaving the eyes and angry shouts behind me.

……….

Though my skin burned, my fingers clung to the edges of the cloak, holding tight the only shred of dignity offered to me. The carriage carried us down what had to be the bumpiest road I had ever had the pleasure of traveling. With every jostle, shocks of desire shot through my core. There weren’t many distractions to take my mind from the compounding discomfort. I curled my bare toes against the matted carpet floor, in and out. I counted rows of buttons on the tufted leather seat beside me. The only sense I couldn’t control was smell.

The smell of him was overwhelming me, sticking like wet satin on my heated skin. My eyes flicked up despite my efforts. His eyes studiously avoided me, seated across from him. He shuffled pages through his gloved hands, combing them with a furrowed brow. He had left me alone in the carriage for a few minutes, returning with them folded in hand. Papers verifying my sale and his ownership. Despite the rage that this new fact sparked in me, I had to squeeze my eyes shut through a wave of lust and pain. Desperately, I stopped inhaling through my nose and took a breath just through my mouth. A new sensation took me as the scent of him became a flavor on my tongue, dark warm spices cut with a tinge of sweet and salt.

I bit down on my tongue as hard as I could stand as sweat broke out at my temples. I hissed a sharp breath as the carriage wheels hit a bump that raised me from my seat. The shock sent my eyes fluttering open. His eyes were locked on me, hands frozen mid shuffle. The stare was probably worse than the smell and taste in the air. My brain was starting to go hazy, but I noticed that I still couldn’t tell what color his eyes were. All that showed of his irises was a thin ring around blown out pupils. They had the look of every pair of eyes set in every man who gazed at me. Hunger gave the eyes a distinct sheen.

I swallowed back nausea and anger in one gulp. He cleared his throat, blinking.

“This will not be a short carriage ride, and you are not well.” He stated coolly. “While I did not anticipate any of this, I certainly did not plan on needing to do this in a carriage, but this will become increasingly uncomfortable for both of us if I don’t offer you some relief.”

He adjusted himself so he faced me more directly, setting the documents aside. I blinked, not able to understand his words when his eyes bore down on me and his movements sent a wave of that luscious scent over me again. Anger and nausea slid away and all that echoed in my head was his Alpha calling out to my Omega.

In one quick movement and a tug at the front of the cloak, I was spun around and seated between his long, outstretched legs. I could feel him scenting me from behind. The rough stubble of his cheek scraped against my jaw and the side of my neck, leaving fire in it’s wake. I couldn’t help the whimper that slipped from my throat or how my body melted into the hardness and heat pressed against my back. He responded with a groan. A whisper found my ear, “It isn’t my knot, but it will help.”

Any last shred of caution that remained in me evaporated. The already slipping cloak parted further, exposing goose fleshed skin. Leather wrapped fingers traced a line down my neck and between my breasts. My head lolled back while his angled forward, chinning pressing into my collarbone. I knew his hungry eyes followed the movement of his hand. I didn’t care. He skipped all pretenses and found where I ached right away. Steady circles pressed against the throbbing bundle of nerves sending both relief and anticipation through me. My hips moved with his movements as soon as they began, pressing him further into my slit until the tips of his fingers pressed at my entrance, desperately clenching around nothing. My hips rocked harder between his legs.

“Please.” The breathy cry surfaced from my lips. His free arm wrapped around my middle, squeezing.

“You have to hold still.” He groaned into my ear. It was only then that I felt the hard length of him pressing into my lower back. The knowledge of it had an unexpected effect on me.

I stilled my hips with some difficulty. “Good girl,” he muttered, slipping one thick finger inside me. “So warm and wet.” I cried out, loud and wordless. He found an unrelenting rhythm immediately, knowing my body couldn’t handle any teasing. His finger stroked inside me while his palm rubbed my clit. A second finger eased in stretching me wider. He hummed in my ear, “Will this little pussy even be able to take my knot?”

“Yes.” My body spoke for me, knowing what I really needed.

He tisked, “Not yet, vixen. Don’t tempt me like that.” At once, his two fingers doubled their efforts and his other arm shifted around me so his hand could find a breast. He rolled the hard peak of my nipple between two more leather clad fingers and I lost the short lived restraint on my hips. I rocked against his fingers, taking him deeper and harder and working my self toward release. My cries matched the panting rhythm of my breath. “Look at you fucking yourself on my fingers. That’s right,” he growled, “Make yourself cum on me.” With that and a tight pinch on my nipple, I reached my peak. Heat and sensation spiraled from my center, curling my toes. As my hips locked in my orgasm, he slowly pumped his fingers inside me, drawing out the last of it. Relief settled through my bones and I slumped against him. He slid his hands under my thighs, leaving a wet trail on my right, and helped unhook my knees from around his thighs. He lifted me back to my own bench across from him. My legs tucked underneath me and I pulled the wool back around me tightly, suddenly feeling chilled. I glanced back over, catching him pulling off a damp glove.

“Sorry about your gloves.” I whispered hoarsely.

He grinned. “Rest now. It’s still a long ride yet.

[samlicker81]

Look, I don’t know what happened here, but Team Free Will 2.0 thinks masks are cool, okay?

[samlicker81]

Happy Canada Day!

[samlicker81]

“Whenever you can hug Jared, you should hug Jared.” - Robbie Thompson

[samlicker81]

S8 Gag Reel

[samlicker81]

wet winchesters || 5.19

[samlicker81]

Sam riding a horse ⇻ 6x18 “Frontierland”

[samlicker81]

Sam Winchester | 10x15 ➤ The Things They Carried

I tried. l did. I tried. l just … I couldn’t save this one.  

[samlicker81]

rereading the hunger games and i CANNOT stop thinking about what haymitch and peeta’s individual interview training session must’ve gone. like

haymitch: so what’s your angle you wanna go for how do we want to portray you

peeta: I Have Been In Love With Katniss For 12 Years

haymitch: oh word?

[samlicker81]

being younger than your fave characters and then eventually becoming older than them is such a weird feeling

[samlicker81]

Morning Sam Girls

Today’s Theme: Sunday Sunshine

*none of the images are mine

Keep reading

[samlicker81]

#how the turntables

EMMA. (2020), dir. Autumn de Wilde

[samlicker81]

♥

[samlicker81]

Lovely Made From Love

A day late for Father's Day...Oh well!

Sam X Reader

Warnings: Smut, fluff, oral sex

“Hey, hey, Daddy’s got you.” He shushes, his weight shifting foot to foot.

The fussing baby quiets when her tiny face presses into your husband’s bare chest. “Daddy’s here.”

Your heart swells. Through the doubt and the worry from the moment you found out you were pregnant; in your gut you knew. You knew that it would be good. And nearly every day since has proven that. Still, Sam’s fears almost got to you. Raising a child in this monster filled world, not being able to protect her, and the doubts about his ability to be a parent. But you knew your faith in him wasn’t unfounded. He would be the best father.

Because it’s Sam. Because damaged, haunted, fiercely loyal Sam loves hard enough to make up for all the love lost on him.

He lowers your now sleeping daughter into her crib with practiced movements. His proud smile still hangs on his lips when he turns to find you in the doorway. “Settled,” he whispers, stepping into your outstretched arms.

“Thanks, baby whisperer.”

“Yeah, lucky you.”

You laugh and nuzzle your nose into his chest, breathing in the mixture of musky Sam and the sweet smell where the baby’s head had been cradled. “You have a good first Father’s Day?”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, stooping to catch your temple with a warm kiss. He kisses down the side of your face until he’s caught your lips. Your lips part automatically as his mouth possesses yours with an unexpected fervor.

The bed bounces when he drops you on it. His long fingers quickly loosen the tie of your soft robe and your bare skin covers in goosebumps instantly, the nipples of your swollen breasts standing at attention. He hums in appreciation at your nakedness, settling between your knees. He leans forward to kiss your lips but pulls away quickly to lean down and plant another on your soft stomach. You gasp at the contact, his warm breath sweeping across your skin as his lips head further south.

“Hey,” you speak up, registering where he’s heading, “it’s Father’s Day, we’re supposed to be pampering you.”

He looks up with a devilish grin on his lips, “You made me a father, baby.” He kisses you just below your navel, where stretchmarks have turned silvery. “With this,” he purrs against your skin. His head dips and you groan when he places a gentle kiss between your legs. “And this,” he mumbles before his tongue darts out.

You twist your fingers into his long hair, pleasure fanning out from where his hot mouth moves against you. His tongue circles, catching your clit in a dizzying rhythm. It isn’t long before you’re gasping his name. “Sam, please. I want you,” you pant, fingers tugging his hair.

He pulls up in response, settling his weight over you. He moans, his wet mouth pressing into your neck, when your fingers wrap around his hard length. Your thumb swirls over his swollen head, spreading precum in its path. Your pussy clenches at the realization of the clear pleasure he gets out of pleasuring you, and you waste no time notching him at your entrance. And he wastes no time pushing home to fill you up.

[samlicker81]

[samlicker81]

Jensen: Let’s take a brief pause.

Jensen 3 seconds later: