sapphic-destiel - Tumblr blog

sapphic-destiel · 26 days ago

Text

right and wrong

summary: motel room. soulless sam. you.

warnings: smut with very little plot mdni, dick riding, flithy talk, degradation, teasing, unprotected pinv (wrap it up!!), dominant soulless sam, size kink if you squint

a/n: just got off work and i'm not gonna lie i did not proof read this LOL so forgive me if it's senseless and not the fun kind. hope y'all enjoy!

@that-stanford-girlie for you babes 😙

The motel room was dimly lit, shadows dancing across the faded wallpaper as you paced near the window. Sam sat on the edge of the bed, cleaning his gun with methodical precision, each movement calculated and cold. This wasn't the Sam you'd grown to care about over the months of hunting together. This version was something else entirely.

"You're making me dizzy," he said without looking up, his voice carrying that familiar timber but none of the warmth. "Sit down."

It wasn't a request.

You stopped pacing but didn't sit. "We need to talk about what happened back there, Sam. You almost got that family killed because you didn't care enough to-"

"To what?" He finally looked up, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. But there was nothing behind them. No guilt, no remorse, no recognition of the lives that had hung in the balance. "To coddle them? To hold their hands while we did our job?"

He set the gun aside and stood, moving toward you with that predatory grace he'd developed since he'd come back... well, wrong. Each step was deliberate, purposeful, and you found yourself backing toward the wall despite every instinct telling you to stand your ground.

"You're afraid of me," he observed, tilting his head slightly. Not concerned, but curious. Like you were a specimen under glass.

"No," you lied, your back hitting the wall.

A slow smile spread across his face, and it was all wrong. Sam's smiles used to light up his whole face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. This was just lips and teeth, sharp and predatory.

"You should be." He braced one hand against the wall beside your head, leaning in close enough that you could smell him, feel the heat radiating from his skin. "Do you know what I could do to you right now? What kind of power I have over you? Over everyone?"

Your heart hammered against your ribs, but you couldn't tell if it was fear or something else entirely. Something darker that you didn't want to acknowledge.

"Sam-"

"That's not really me anymore, is it?" His free hand came up to trace along your jawline with deceptive gentleness. "I remember caring about you. I remember thinking you were... fragile. Something to protect, not touch."

His thumb brushed across your lower lip, and you shivered.

"I don't feel that anymore," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper that somehow made it more menacing. "Do you know how liberating that is? To not care about consequences? About feelings?"

You should push him away. Should remind him that somewhere buried deep, the real Sam was still in there. But when he looked at you like that... like you were something he wanted to take apart piece by piece... your words died in your throat.

"You're playing a dangerous game," you managed to whisper.

"Oh, I'm not playing anything." His hand slid down to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there like a promise. "This is what I am now. What I want. And deep down, past all that moral outrage and concern for my soul..."

He leaned in until his lips were almost brushing your ear.

"It's what you want too."

The accusation hung in the air between you, and the worst part was that you couldn't deny it. This version of Sam was terrifying, yes, but he was also magnetic in a way that made your skin feel too tight and your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

"Tell me I'm wrong," he challenged, pulling back to meet your eyes again. "Tell me you don't think about what it would be like. What I could show you without all those inconvenient emotions getting in the way. Tell me and I'll stop."

Your mouth went dry. Because he wasn't wrong, and somehow he knew it. Could see it in the way your pulse jumped under his fingers, in the way you hadn't tried to escape even though you easily could have.

He chuckled like he fucking knew you'd answer like that.

"That's what I thought." His smile turned satisfied, possessive. "Sit." He was back on the edge of the bed before the word even fully left his mouth, legs spread wide, hands resting on his thighs like he owned the damn room- and you in it.

You didn’t move at first. That same pulse he’d just measured with two fingers at your throat now thundered between your legs, demanding something you weren’t proud of.

He tilted his head. “Come on. Don’t make me ask again.”

It wasn’t a threat, and that was the problem. There was no menace behind his words, just absolute certainty. He knew you would listen. Like this whole thing was already inevitable.

So you crossed the room slowly. You didn’t look at him as you straddled his lap, settling there like it wasn’t the worst idea you’d had all week. Like you hadn’t just watched him leave a blood-soaked crime scene without blinking.

His hands locked on to your hips the second you touched him- firm, grounding. Possessive.

"So focused. So fucking serious," he growled in your ear. “I used to wonder what you'd sound like when you finally came apart...” he said, his voice low and his lips brushing the corner of your jaw. “Now I get to find out.”

Your breath caught as his mouth dragged to your neck, all heat and hunger and wrong. But you couldn't pull away. His lips found that spot just beneath your ear that made you shift without meaning to. That made you need him.

“Sam-” you tried again, weak, already unraveling.

“Shh,” he interrupted, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “Don't act like you've never imagined this."

That should’ve stopped you cold. Instead, it made your thighs squeeze tighter around him.

He grinned like he knew. Like he’d just won a game you hadn’t even realized you started playing.

"That night in Phoenix," he drawled, voice low and smug. "After the dive bar- yeah. You remember. That little skirt you wore? Barely covered your ass."

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear as his fingers ghosted down your side.

"You bent over in front of me twice. Twice. You knew exactly what you were doing. Always a smart girl."

His hand slid lower, gripping the back of your thigh.

"You wanted me to look. Wanted to see how long I’d play nice before I snapped."

You whimpered, and then his mouth was on yours, claiming you rough. There was no tenderness, no prelude. He kissed like it was an invasion, his tongue pushing past your lips, hands dragging your hips against his bulge in a slow grind that made you gasp into his mouth.

He swallowed the sound greedily.

You were already moving against him, breath hitching as the friction built, as his fingers dug harder into your waist.

"That's it," he murmured against your lips. "Knew you'd be like this. So fucking needy."

His hands slipped under your shirt without preamble, dragging the fabric up until he could tug it over your head. Your bra followed quickly, the snap undone in one practiced flick, and then his mouth was on you- teeth grazing, tongue circling, making your back arch like he owned every inch of you.

Maybe he did. Or maybe you were letting him.

He dragged his mouth down your neck, slow and deliberate, until his hands were at your waistband. His fingers hooked the denim and pulled them off in one fluid motion, but he didn’t pull off your panties just yet.

Instead, he paused, almost maliciously drinking in the sight of you, pressing his palm right on the wet spot that's spilled through the cotton of your panties.

“Fuck,” he murmured, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “You’re soaked through. Haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

He leaned in, nosing along your hipbone, voice dropping to a purr.

“All that smart talk earlier, and now you’re dripping for me like a needy little thing.”

You lifted your hips with a gasp, and he finally obliged, stripping you bare, your panties discarded in a pile you barely registered hitting the floor.

Then he sat back and looked at you. And smiled.

“Ride me.”

It wasn’t a request. You reached between you, undoing his belt with trembling fingers. His eyes didn’t leave yours, not once, as you pulled him free, his dick hard and already slick at the tip. It hit his stomach with a slap, the sheer size of him enough to make your mouth water.

He watched you with a smug smirk, like you were something he’d earned. There was no warmth in his eyes, only the cold satisfaction of someone who no longer gave a damn about the consequences.

You guided his thick tip to your entrance, your breath stuttering and your body already aching with need.

And then slowly- so slowly- you sank down. Not all at once, just little by little, your pussy stretching to take him in inch by inch. Sam's hands twitched by his sides, like he wanted to slam you onto him already. But he resisted, instead taking in the view of you wincing and whining as you hit the base of him.

His breath hitched, but he didn’t make a sound. You did- a broken gasp. A bitten-back moan. The stretch of him was obscene, addictive, your thighs trembling as you settled fully onto his lap.

"That's a girl," he said, voice thick with something darker than lust. “Fuckin' knew you'd take it all f'me.”

He was generous enough to let you set the pace at first- slow rolls of your hips, grinding down as he dragged his hands along your sides, your ass, your thighs. Or, at least he let you think you were setting the pace. Really, he just wanted to see you. Feel you from the inside before completely wrecking you the way he wanted to.

He gripped your hips tighter, guiding you harder, faster, until your head tipped back and you were moaning without shame. The sound of wet skin slapping against each other was dirty. Pornographic. It echoed off of the motel walls that were already too familiar with sin.

“Look at you,” he rasped, one hand slipping between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with devastating precision. “Fucking yourself on me like you need me.”

You didn’t argue. Couldn’t. Your fingers clawed into his shoulders as you rode him harder, chasing the friction, the fullness, the sweet, punishing drag of his cock with every desperate grind of your hips. That sharp edge built in your belly, white-hot and unbearable, teetering just out of reach. You could barely breathe, barely think, his name caught on your tongue like a plea- wrecked and reverent, but too far gone to speak it.

“You wanna come?” he asked, voice low, cruel. “Beg for it.”

You didn’t hesitate. Your voice was small, breathless. Just one little, pathetic, helpless, needy: "Please."

"Come on," His grin was wicked. “That’s all it takes?”

And then he pressed harder, slamming your little frame in his large hands.

You shattered right there in his lap, gasping and clenching around him, falling forward into his chest as he fucked it out of you- relentless, brutal, chasing his own high like it owed him something.

As you came, he groaned against your shoulder, arms banded tight around you like he wasn’t ready to let go. And for a second, just a second, you felt him soften. Not in body, but in soul.

Or whatever was left of it.

But the moment passed, and when he pulled back, those eyes were still empty. He didn’t let you off his lap right away. Even after you came, as you sat perched on top of him- shaking, spent, your breath catching in your throat. He stayed hard inside you. One large hand cupped the back of your neck, keeping your forehead against his shoulder, like he wasn’t finished with you.

And he was in no hurry to stop this any time soon.

“I can feel your pulse,” he murmured, fingers tapping lightly against the nape of your neck. “It jumps every time I move. Like this.”

He shifted his hips just a fraction. It's enough for you to whimper.

“You sensitive?” he asked, though there was no real concern in his voice, just that same detached amusement. Curiosity, like a scientist poking at something raw just to see it twitch. “Hm? One fuck and your pussy’s already this tender?”

He leaned back, letting you fall forward slightly, forcing your hands to catch on his chest. He watched your face, how your eyelids fluttered, your jaw tightened, your lips parted as you tried to breathe steady. He watched you squirm as he flexed his hips again, deeper this time, slow. Mean.

“Need you," he whispered, the sound sending goosebumps down your skin. "Need more. You don’t get to come again until I do.”

His voice was low, matter-of-fact. Your body? Just a means to an end. A toy, warm and willing and wet. And his.

He lifted you effortlessly and let you drop again harder, slower, groaning softly as you clenched around him in reflex.

"That's it" he said, his breath fanning your cheek. “Use your thighs.”

You tried to set a rhythm, but your muscles ached. You were overstimulated and half-lost in the way he filled you so perfectly, the way every movement scraped across some raw nerve that hadn’t even had time to recover.

"Sam..." you managed to choke out, the sound like a plea.

"What? Too much?" he cooed with fake remorse. "Hm? Too fucked out to do it yourself?"

His hands returned to your hips tight and bruising. “Guess I’ll do it myself.”

He hardly warned you before he flipped you onto your back and followed you down, still inside, still hard, settling between your thighs like he belonged there. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, pressing them into the mattress. The other slid down your body until he had your thigh hooked around his hip.

"Look at you," he murmured, letting his hips roll forward, slow and deep. "Taking it like all f'me."

You gasped, legs twitching as he bottomed out again, thick and deliberate, grinding against a spot that made your toes curl.

“Aww,” he drawled, his voice going faux-soft as you tensed beneath him. “Wish you could see yourself right now. Fucking brainless around me.”

He pulled back an inch, then sank in again, even deeper. Your mouth fell open. Nothing came out. When he pulled out, so did a thick, creamy white ring around the base of his dick.

"Look at that," he cooed. "See how wet I get you, huh? How good I make you feel?"

You let out a whimper, pleading him for more.

“Shh,” he said, smirking. “I know, I know. Not yet, remember?”

But you couldn’t help that you were already falling apart. And Sam, that dick, he fucking knew it. He watched it. Every flicker of tension in your jaw, every whimper you tried to swallow. His pace never faltered.

“I’ve barely even started,” he whispered, brushing his lips over your cheek like a mockery of affection. “And you’re already shaking.”

You tried to move- something, anything- but his grip on your wrists tightened.

“Nope,” he said smoothly. “Look at you- spread open and obedient f'me. Good fucking girl.”

He adjusted his angle again with a subtle shift of his hips, and you arched off the bed, a cry tearing from your throat as he hit the spot that made your vision blur.

“There it is,” he rasped, driving into you deeper. "Makes you so fucking dumb for it, doesn’t it?"

You were panting now, strung so tight you could barely think. Your legs were wrapped around him, desperate for more, for anything, and he didn’t give it. He stayed steady. Cruel and perfect.

“Fuck, you feel that?” he asked, dragging his hips back and driving in harder this time. “So tight around me."

Your whole body jolted. You whined, hips twitching under the weight of him.

“What?” he mocked again, voice syrup-sweet. “Too deep? You're a big girl, you can take it.”

He didn’t stop. He just kept ramming into you like your cunt was made to take his cock- loud, slick, filthy, your legs trembling as he dragged you toward another edge.

"Shh. I know. I know," he whispered, his breath hot against your jaw. "It’s too much. You're taking it so good."

And you were. You let him use you, your body clinging to him, your mind barely hanging on. The way he fucked you was all control and no compromise. He wasn’t giving you what you needed, he was taking what he wanted.

"Aww, look at that," he cooed, fucking you deeper. "She’s tightening so pretty for me. You gonna make a mess now? Huh?"

You whimpered, hips stuttering beneath him.

He smirked, leaned in close, and whispered:

“Not yet.”

The pressure built until it was unbearable, every thrust a tease, every roll of his hips designed to keep you teetering over the edge, denying you of your release.

And then finally he released your wrists.

“Go ahead,” he said, his tone dropping. “Touch yourself. Make yourself come while I fuck you.”

You didn’t hesitate. Your hand dropped between your thighs, and the second your fingers brushed your clit, your body seized around him, blinding heat snapping through your core. He groaned as you clenched around him, fucking you through it, rougher now, deeper, chasing his own release.

“Fuck- yeah,” he rasped, lips dragging down your jaw as he spilled inside you. “That’s what I wanted.”

You clenched around him in helpless waves, your body milking him through it. Your pussy was tight and filthy wet, spasming with every pulse of his cock as he emptied himself deep inside you. The heat of it made you gasp, made you feel him in every nerve ending, every twitch and grind of his hips as he fucked you through the high.

It was messy, slippery, and obscene. Your thighs were slick, and his breath grew ragged against your throat as your cunt kept fluttering around him, overstimulated and wrecked. He groaned low in his chest, hips stuttering once more as if your body squeezing down on him dragged the last drop from him.

He stayed inside you, buried to the hilt, savoring it like he wanted to carve the memory into your skin. His breath was warm against your neck when he spoke again.

“Always wanted to do that,” he muttered real low. It made your eyes widen just barely.

Then he pulled out. You flinched at the sudden absence, your body clenching down on nothing. Overstimulated. Messy. His cum leaked from you immediately, warm and thick, sliding down your ass and onto the sheets.

He watched it happen, watched the mess he'd made in you. His head tilted and his lips curved into a quiet smirk.

“You look pretty like this,” he said under his breath, like an observation. A compliment on accident.

Then he stood, crossed the room, and came back with a towel. He knelt between your legs, spread them wider with one hand, and started to clean you up, efficient and slow, like he was still savoring the view. The way your thighs trembled. The sticky mess of your cum and his between them. How soft you were now, how ruined.

His touch was shockingly gentle. It was almost like his body remembered a version of him that might’ve kissed your knee or murmured something soft.

But that man was gone. And this one didn’t kiss you. Didn’t crawl into bed beside you or pull the blanket over your shoulders. Didn't offer you a drink. When he was done, he tossed the towel aside, wiped his hands on the sheets, and stood up.

"I'm gonna shower," he said. And with that, he turned to the motel bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

You knew this wasn't really Sam. Whatever made him him had been carved out, leaving behind something that wore his face and spoke with his voice but felt nothing. No guilt. No love. No consideration for the consequences of using you like he'd been wanting to all along.

But your body was still singing from his touch, every nerve ending still alive with the memory of how he'd taken you apart with surgical precision. How he'd whispered things in your ear that the real Sam would never have said, wouldn't have even thought.

You exhaled a shaky breath and let your eyes drift closed.

It wasn't right. You knew that. But damn if part of you wasn't already wondering when it might happen again.

˚ ཐི⋆⛧⃝⋆ཋྀ ˚

104 notes · View notes

sapphic-destiel · 26 days ago

Text

@whumpgifathon Day 2 | Accidental Whumping - Broken Glass

Ft. Sam Winchester in Supernatural: 7.01 Meet the New Boss 7.02 Hello, Cruel World

146 notes · View notes

sapphic-destiel · 26 days ago

Text

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ — thinking about SOLDIER BOY helping soothe your post-sex soreness .ᐟ

loosely based on / set after this lil drabble

warnings: smut, fingering, fauxcest, daddy kink, use of ‘dad’ and ‘daddy’, use of other petnames, somno(?), age gap, est. relationship (daddy!soldier boy x fem!reader) 18+

wc: 2.1k ⋮ read at your own discretion

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

your cunt ached like it had been ripped in half, sore from how merciless ben had been when impaling you with his cock, spearing you open like he’d die without your warmth wrapped around him. your clit throbbed—not in the pleasant way—and you were sure your cervix was bruised.

you were pressed against ben’s firm chest, his meaty arms wrapped around you, circling your body like a cocoon. you could smell his musk through his shirt; it was smokey and deep, mixed with a smidge of sweat—a masculine scent that made your stomach churn with delight, something familiar and comforting.

ben’s snores were loud as they bounced around the walls in your bedroom, deep gruff noises that came right from the bottom of his lungs. the sight of ben in your room was still bizarre—america’s big burly ex-golden boy, tucked away under your sheets in your girly little bedroom, filled with books and candles and too many things with frills and sparkles. it was almost humorous the way he stood out amongst your things.

yet, somehow, he fit in perfectly.

you didn’t quite understand how you and ben had come about, but for some reason, you worked. you made sense. you sought comfort, and he gave it—no questions asked. you fall over and scrape your knee? ben’s there patching you up, drying your tears. ben has an episode, just staring off into space as he relives the horrors of his time held captive in russia? you’re there, slotted into his lap, letting him breathe you in until his heartrate slows back down and the life reenters his eyes.

yin and yang—a soft little thing to his hardened self.

you could hear the slow breaths exhaling from ben’s lungs as you cuddled into his side. he was deep asleep, dozing carelessly as you twitched against him.

the ache between your legs was growing stronger, a painful dull sensation throbbing inside you. you whimpered, trying to squeeze your eyes shut, like that would make the pain go away.

you felt ben shift.

“mmm, baby?”

his voice was low and gravelly, riddled with sleepiness; a pleasant sound that would otherwise have you smiling if the aching between your legs wasn’t continuously nagging at you.

“you’re awake. why’re you awake?” ben muttered again, this time pulling you back to meet his gaze. your eyes blinked, and he let out a drowsy sigh, taking in the state of you. “up past your bedtime, babydoll. you’re meant to be sleeping.”

ben’s hazy green eyes continued to dart around your face, lingering on your creased brows and trembling pouted lips. his face softened. “what’s wrong?”

a whimper escaped you, and you shook your head. “hurts…” you managed to squeak out.

his brows shot up slowly, the drowsiness starting to vacate his features as he studied you, mild concern growing on his face instead. “what hurts, baby?”

“inside.”

ben blinked, staying quiet for a moment before murmuring softly. “inside? you mean your pussy, baby? your pussy hurts?”

you nodded.

“oh, sweetheart,” ben sighed, slipping his hands under your arms and pulling you up against him more. he sat up against the plethora of pillows adorning your headboard and tucked your head into his neck, stroking your hair in a way that seemed unusually soft coming from him. “m’sorry, baby. i didn’t mean to hurt you, you know that.”

quiet little noises made their way up your throat and into his neck. “i know…”

“yeah? course you do. you’re my smart girl, huh?” ben agreed, his voice verging on mocking. he pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline, letting his thick fingers tangle in your locks. “s’it just your pussy, or your tummy too?”

“just my…” you trailed off. your voice was meek, filled with embarrassment and shame, as if you’d done something wrong.

ben caught on quick.

“just your pretty pussy? that’s okay, honey,” he said softly. “m’sorry i hurt you, kiddo. should’ve been more careful with my special girl, yeah? you’re just a little thing, all fragile and delicate. i forget you’re breakable, baby. you aren’t like me.”

ben felt you nod into his neck, and his heartbeat slowed right down. there you were. even in pain, you were nothing short of a sweetheart—his good little girl, so agreeable, so sweet, just submitting to his words in exchange for his comfort and care. he couldn’t help but grin.

“silly daddy, huh? i was bad to you… took you too rough, didn’t i? fucked that tight little cunt too hard?” he muttered, letting his words soak into the air. he felt you lapping them up, letting them absorb into your tired brain, just the way he intended them to. “maybe i should say sorry to her. make her see how bad i feel for bein’ mean. do you think she’d like that, sweetheart? dad telling your pussy he’s sorry?”

your insides clenched. you knew anything ben was planning to do was going to end in tears and even more overstimulation, but at the same time, you felt your head spinning and your cunt preemptively spewing out slick in preparation.

ben tugged your head back, gripping the hair at your nape to make you meet his eyes. “words, bub.”

his hand darted down past the waistband of your sleep shorts, forcing its way into your underwear as he waited for you to respond. you winced as his fingers found your bud.

ben chuckled, “oh, so we’re just noises right now? not using your big girl words f’me?”

he rubbed slowly at your clit, setting alight the nerves that sent waves of pleasure up your spine. ben watched your face change; what was once scrunched up in agony had now softened into parted lips and hazy eyes.

“yeah, that’s it. daddy’s making it all feel better, huh? could’ve just said you wanted dad, angel. if only you used your brain, you dopey little thing.”

he huffed in delight when a whimper fell from your lips. he circled your nerves, feeling your thighs clamp tight around his hand and your cunt muscles pushing back against the light friction he was creating under his fingertips.

“mhm, can feel her waking up, baby. can y’feel your pretty pussy sayin’ hi to dad?” he chuckled, all breathy and mocking.

your hips began to roll themselves against his hand, searching for pleasure in the quiet moment between the two of you. his fingers slipped up and down your slick folds, giving you exactly what your body was asking for.

a quiet moan ripped its way out of your mouth, the sound kissing ben’s neck and bouncing up into his ear. he smiled at that. “uh huh, there you are. feeling better already, aren’t ya, kiddo?”

the nod you gave him was involuntary; your body moving on its own again.

“still hurts?” he asked, his tone still soft but now laced with a speck of sincerity—something rare for ben in moments of intimacy.

your throat bobbed as you swallowed down another moan, and you nodded. “mhm, a little… more my insides, though.”

“yeah, babydoll? inside your pretty cunt? maybe daddy should have a feel around?”

ben grinned at the muffled whine you let out into his neck, the sound pathetic and unsure. he slipped his hand further down between your legs, the pads of his fingers finding your slick opening.

you tensed—your body warning you—as you felt him brush past the sensitive nerves that circle your entrance.

ben chuckled. “c’mon, baby. daddy knows what he’s doing here. s’not his first rodeo.”

the stretch of his two middle fingers was unimaginably good, but you were still indescribably tender. your walls fluttered around them, delivering small kisses to his slick-covered skin.

“see? she’s awake. she’s fine, angel. she’s givin’ dad a squeeze too. welcoming me home.”

ben stroked along your walls, the contact forcing your hips to jerk forward and a whine to shoot out of your lungs.

“daddy–” you cried out into his neck.

his fingers scooped deeper into you, curling up into that sweet spot that was still oh-so-sensitive.

“you’re alright, sweetheart. daddy’s got it. m’gonna make the pain go away. just relax, kid.”

the pressure was overwhelming—sore, but so so so satisfying, like pressing into a bruise. your muscles spasmed, and your legs clamped tight around his hand again.

“i said relax.”

ben’s other hand tugged your thighs back open, and he resumed his ministrations inside your cunt, brushing his fingers against your gooey walls.

you squeaked. and whined. and groaned.

but that didn’t stop ben. he could see the pain mixing around with the pleasure on your face. what a sweet little doll. his good girl.

“takin’ it so good, baby. feels good, doesn’t it? better than the ache daddy left in here, huh? he’s sorry about that, honey, he really is,” he cooed into your ear, then placed a kiss on your forehead.

your orgasm was forceful, ripping out of your cunt with determination that left you utterly breathless in his arms. ben’s motions inside you didn’t cease until you finished squirming in his lap—gushing and covering his fingers with your release, gasping into his neck like your breath was being held hostage in your lungs.

“ohhhh, that’s it, babygirl. i knew exactly what this lil’ pussy needed, didn’t i?” he huffed out a rough laugh into your hair and kissed your head again. he kept up his strokes along your sticky walls, slowing them down until his fingers laid dormant inside you.

the throbbing returned as he stilled, the feeling spreading through your overworked core muscles. they squeezed tightly around his fingers, and you groaned quietly.

“such a good girl f’me,” ben murmured. “think daddy can put you back to bed now?”

you shook your head into his neck quickly, letting out a quiet noise. “no… please. i need–”

“no? oh, so we’re being greedy tonight? already fucked you stupid before, doll, and now you want another orgasm?” ben mused. “you’re a greedy girl.”

“please,” was all you could muster up. “still hurts.”

“mhm, sure it does, puppy. but i guess i owe you for hurting your pretty insides, huh?”

ben curled his fingers back up into that spongey spot, starting up his motions inside you once more. a wave of pleasure crashed over you again, wringing out the aching sensation and now replacing it with a warmth in your core.

your hips rolled against his fingers, helping them press harder into your gspot, forcing electrical currents to shoot up your nerves and explode like fireworks in your brain. the pain simmered out once more as ben began pulling another orgasm from you.

your soft delicate noises in his neck had him grinning from ear to ear. you were maddening, just a silly little girl in his arms, wailing softly at his thick fingers digging into you and dulling away the ache that his monster cock had brutally drilled into you.

“mmm, baby. you’re so soft f’me, aren’t you? m’so proud of you, takin’ all of this so well,” he stated in a gentle whisper.

ben was being unusually soft. the combination of his quiet murmurings and free hand rubbing along your spine had you lulled into a fuzzy headspace.

“i could eat you up, darlin’, i really could. you’re my good girl.” he felt you nod into his neck in agreement with his words, and he huffed, amused, “yeah, you are.”

ben continued stuffing your pretty cunt with his fingers, now focused on brushing your clit with the heel of his palm too. good submissive girls get extra special care, or at least ben thought so.

within a few minutes he’d pulled another orgasm from you, smirking to himself triumphantly as you twitched in his arms, breathlessly whining at the feeling between your legs.

“uh huh, that was a good one, wasn’t it?” ben hummed. “why don’t you just close your eyes, pumpkin? dad’s got you. you just try to sleep, alright? daddy’s not going anywhere.”

your eyes fluttering closed was instantaneous. ben loved it—how quick you were to always follow his orders, whether you wanted to or not.

“atta girl,” he cooed. he placed another gentle kiss on your forehead and whispered into your hairline, “i got ya, baby. just keep your eyes shut.”

ben’s fingers dug into you at a steady pace, keeping up a constant stream of pleasure inside your core. his other hand continued to rub up and down your back, holding you tight against his torso, soothing you while you tried to relax.

a few minutes passed, and ben could already feel your body weight pressing into him, accompanied by your slow deep breaths against his neck; you were already falling asleep.

ben hummed in amusement—you were his sweet dozey little thing. he didn’t let his fingering falter for a moment, but instead continued the curling motions as he felt you finally melt into him fully. he smiled to himself, resting his lips against your head. “that’s my good girl. you’re so fuckin’ sweet… and too fuckin’ good f’me.”

fig yaps: *gulps nervously* was this too much?? LMFAOOO idc daddy soldier is so fun to write bye this is for the daddy issues girlies and if it ain’t you i don’t wanna hear it 🤚🏼 <3

⟡ taglist: @abellmunsonmovie @cryingdew @floralscented @deansbeer @honeyyxxbee @ilovedilfs-4-ever @soldiersgirl @jensenacklesballsack @beausling @sturnspup @bluemerakis @luvmes-things @n-o-p-e-never @dubina-dawkins @fawncried @jasvtsc @starzify @bejeweledinterludes @sbwifey @nymphet-quenn @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @minettacreekk @sapphic-destiel @tinas111 @skutykocur @completedust @clitsout4clark @diner-girl @littlejoels @tortureddarkstar @angelically-yours @pieandflannel @angelicjackles @cherrygirl444 @confuzzled-waffle @spookyysinsanity @ccupidzbvnni @euphoriabyjk2 @jackles010378 @cupidzbunny @slayjjuni @lanasgirlfr @celebrinigf @briisbananass @hueswithblues @siddyyyyyyyy @manicjk @ackl3z @defnot-svnshine @sunnyteume @shannonxg

join my taglist here! or message me to be removed! <3

649 notes · View notes

sapphic-destiel · 26 days ago

Note

…sub!dean (or switch, like he tries to sub but gets too frustrated and it turns into him being on top?) smut pls? (i need this man SO bad you don’t understand 💔💔💔)

(yes i am slightly ashamed of myself but lowkey…. 👀)

-🔆

⋆˚✿˖° control issues,

pairing. switch!dean winchester x reader ( female )

wordcount. 701 genre. smut ( mdni )

warnings. explicit sexual content, power play, switch dynamics, light bondage (cuffs), dirty talk, slight sub!dean that turns into dom!dean, mild frustration-turned-passion, consensual, heated dynamic shift, language.

notes. hell, i'll be damned. this might be my favorite smut ever

It starts as a joke. Or at least, you think it does.

Dean’s sprawled on the bed, cocky as ever, lips tugged into a lazy grin. “Alright,” he says, holding up the cuffs with a tilt of his head. “You wanna play boss? I’ll behave.”

You raise a brow. “You? Obedient? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Hey,” he smirks, shifting to sit up, ��I can follow orders. If they come with the right kind of… motivation.”

You pluck the cuffs from his hand, toss them onto the mattress between you. “Then lie down and shut up, Winchester.”

He does—smug as hell, clearly entertained. Arms up. Wrists ready. A part of him is probably still thinking he’s indulging you, letting you have your fun.

You straddle his waist, click the cuffs into place around the headboard. Metal snaps closed, and that’s when you see it.

That tiny flicker in his eyes.

Uncertainty.

Not fear. Not hesitation. Just… unfamiliar ground.

You lean in, lips brushing his. “Still with me?”

He nods once, jaw tight. “Yeah.”

You trail your mouth down his throat, biting lightly at his pulse, taking your time. He’s already hard beneath you, shifting against your hips like he’s barely holding back. But you don’t rush.

That’s the point.

You kiss your way down his chest, your fingers ghosting over his abs, teasing the waistband of his boxers. Every time he bucks his hips, you pull back. Every time he groans, you slow down.

Dean Winchester doesn’t beg—but he gets damn close.

“Jesus,” he hisses, muscles tense. “You trying to kill me?”

You smile sweetly. “What happened to behaving?”

He groans. “I’m trying. Fuck, sweetheart, I’m trying.”

You lean down and kiss him again, slow and deep, hands dragging up his thighs. You grind down against him deliberately—letting him feel how wet you are, how ready—and still don’t let him take control.

And that’s when it happens.

Something shifts.

He yanks at the cuffs—hard—and when they don’t budge, he growls. “Let me touch you.”

You pretend to think. “Mmm… no.”

His eyes darken. “I swear to God…”

“Dean.” You lean in, mouthing at his jaw. “You said you’d behave.”

“Yeah, well—” he grits, eyes locked on yours, voice low and rough— “I lied.”

And just like that, it flips.

He pulls hard enough that the cuffs jangle against the frame, eyes wild, mouth crashing into yours. You fumble with the key, laughing breathlessly as you free one wrist, and then he’s on you. Fast. Starving. All control ripped away from your hands and devoured by his.

You barely catch your breath before he flips you onto your back, shoving your thighs apart, mouth dragging hot kisses down your body like he’s reclaiming something.

“Thought you could tease me?” he mutters against your stomach. “Keep me helpless while you took your sweet time?”

You moan as his fingers slide inside you, rough and precise.

“You liked it,” you gasp.

“Damn right I did,” he growls. “And now you’re gonna get it back.”

He fucks you with his fingers until you're begging, writhing, nails clawing at his back. Then he replaces them with his cock, thrusting in deep—hard and perfect, every snap of his hips angry and hot and a little out of control.

“You wanna call the shots?” he pants. “Then say it.”

“Dean—”

“Say it.”

You moan his name again, louder this time, and he grabs your jaw, tilting your face toward him.

“You’re mine,” he says, voice shaking. “You wanna be in charge? Fine. But not tonight.”

You nod, whimpering, and that’s all he needs.

He drives into you harder, both of you slick with sweat, bodies colliding with messy, desperate rhythm. The bed creaks beneath you, his name tangled in curses and pleas. You come fast, your back arching off the sheets, and he follows—groaning against your throat, pulsing deep inside you.

When it’s over, you lie there tangled together, breathing hard, sticky and sated.

Dean brushes his thumb over your jaw. “Still think I’m the sub type?”

You grin, sore and glowing. “You lasted longer than I expected.”

He laughs, low and wrecked. “Yeah, well. Don’t tempt me next time unless you’re ready for round two.”