#sam winchester x reader
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luwritesstuff · 2 days ago
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oh yes, i'm having inspiration 🙏🏻 send in reqs if you please for ur favs
HURT / COMFORT : STARTERS
a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings for when your muse needs a little TLC. change & alter as needed.
THE HURT:
“Nah, it’s not that bad. I’ve had worse.”
“I don’t think I can walk that far… or at all.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”
“Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?”
“I’m sorry, I’m just—I’m just really tired.”
“I don’t need a break. I’m okay.”
“It was my fault. It was all my fault.”
“I think I need help.”
“So, I don’t think I’m dying, or anything, and it’s probably not that serious, but… I’m kinda bleeding. A lot.”
“Is the room spinning right now, or is that just me?”
“No, I’m okay, I just… I hit my head. Really hard. I’ll be okay, just give me a second.”
“I’m not sick! I’m fine!”
“No, I don’t think any of my bones are broken, or anything like that. Just bad bruises.”
“Yeah, but you should see the other guy.”
“I’m fine. This just happens sometimes. It’s normal for me.”
“I’ve got a headache.”
“Seriously, though, I’m fine! Stop making such a big deal out of it!”
“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I don’t need your help, and I definitely don’t need your pity. Fuck off.”
“Please tell me I don’t look as bad as I feel.”
“I think I’m running a fever.”
“So, what’s the prognosis, Doc? Am I gonna live?”
“Stop fussing over me! I’m not a baby!”
“Can I stay with you tonight? I just… really don’t want to be alone right now.”
“No, I-I’m okay. It was just a nightmare. Go back to sleep.”
“I… can’t actually remember the last time I had something to eat.”
“You shouldn’t be here. You’ll get sick, too.”
THE COMFORT:
“Honey, have you been crying? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I think you’d better take a break.”
“It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You did everything you could.”
“You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here for you if you’ll just let me in.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Don’t ever let yourself believe that there is.”
“You really don’t realize just how many people love you, do you?”
“If you’re not going to take care of yourself, at least let me do it for you!”
“I’m sorry. I know it hurts.”
“You’re not alone, baby. You never have been.”
“Let’s get you some food.”
“You’re dead on your feet, poor thing. Come on, you need some sleep.”
“Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”
“Tell me where it hurts.”
“How many times have I told you to be more careful?!”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m right here, okay? I’m not gonna leave you. I’m never gonna leave you.”
“Oh, honey, you’re safe now. I promise. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“Go ahead and take a shower. I’ll fix you something to eat.”
“What happened to you, baby?”
“I’ll kill that bastard. I’ll kill him for what he did to you.”
“You look like shit, man.”
“Whoa, whoa, take it easy! You got pretty banged up back there, and you don’t want to go making yourself worse.”
“I’m not trying to baby you. It’s called taking care of my friends.”
“Sweetheart, you’re burning up! Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick?”
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sammyluvr · 3 days ago
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✶ safe now — sam & dean w.
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cw : gn!winchester!reader, hurt/comfort, reader is the youngest sibling, blood, injury & pain, implied torture, nicknames (bud), poorly edited, no y/n, 1.4K words. requested !
summary : your brothers rescue you after you're kidnapped and tortured by demons.
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there’s a moment where everything is quiet. maybe it’s minutes. hours, perhaps. you don’t really know, because nothing makes sense anymore. up and down don’t mean much to you. and you can’t tell if everything hurts, if it burns, or if you can’t feel anything at all.
then, it’s not quiet anymore. it’s loud, and yet, it’s muffled. you can’t distinguish one sound from another. a crash and a yell, maybe even a scream. more crashing, but it all sort of sounds the same, so you’re not the most reliable narrator.
but there’s something familiar in it all. the clamor, the fighting, you think it must be. the shout of a word that you know to be your own somehow, and the blurred shape in front of your barely open eyes. it’s your name, you realize. the shouted sound was your name, far away. it’s not far away anymore, murmured and panicked, and the face in front of you, going in and out of focus, is sam’s.
oh, sam. you hope it’s really him. that means this is all over.
and then you decide that you can feel and everything does hurt, because there are hands wrapping around you from behind. they frighten and confuse you at first, but before you can thrash away or cry for sam to help, dean’s voice is in your ears and you don’t fight it.
“i got you,” he says simply, soothing you without any effort at all. he’s holding you up so you don’t fall once sam unties you from where you’re strung up by the wrists, like the carcass of a slaughtered farm animal. you try not to whimper. it would embarrass you. it’s hard, though, because his strong hold is aggravating the cuts and bruises that litter your bore torso. you wonder if his hands are warm or cold, but you can’t really tell despite the fact that your skin there is exposed. you were stripped of your shirt, you think.
sam’s talking too, voice so gentle that the sound of it is the most calming part. you’re sure he’s saying comforting words, but it’s hard to focus on more than one thing at a time. his hands work quickly to free you, and then you’re slumped back against dean’s chest. your legs aren’t working all that well right now.
dean’s hold is awkward and you can sag forward, right into sam. dean lets him take you, his hands itching for his weapon. there could be more demons and he’s got to protect you. he’s the one with the demon knife.
you can imagine the dead bodies in the hallway, the vessels of all the demons who were guarding the place. but you don’t see them, your eyes having drifted closed and your head tucked away into sam’s neck. dean must be leading the way, ready to kill for you as many times as he must today, and forever.
but all the demons have been disposed of. no one gets in the way, and they carry you right out to the car. sam helps you into the back seat with him and it hurts like hell to move at all, but the smell of leather puts you at ease, finally. you’re still so out of it, oblivious to sam’s face that doesn’t bother to hide the worry and the pain of seeing you like this. you’re oblivious to the fact that dean can barely look at you, horrified by the thought that he could’ve prevented this, maybe. it wasn’t his fault that you were snatched away in the night, but both brothers will blame themselves.
you were hungry, so dean left for food. and then, the motel room felt stuffy, so you went to take a walk just around the parking lot. sam didn’t get into the shower like he planned to, waiting at the creaky table for you to come back. and when you were gone for more than five minutes—sam knew you’d get cold quickly because you ignored his advice to grab a jacket—he went out to look for you. you were gone, so he called dean, searched for you. dean got back and yelled at sam. how could you leave them alone? dean was asking himself the same question.
“hey, look at me,” sam says, voice pleading. you aren’t very responsive, and it terrifies him. the car is already moving, you realize. your eyes find his and you feel his fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling your arm through the sleeve of his jacket. everything hurts so much that you never realized that you’re cold. where there isn’t blood, sam can see goosebumps. he’s gentle as he pulls the fabric around you, trying to keep you warm without hurting you any further. “there you are,” he murmurs.
“you’re fine, bud,” dean says from the front seat, voice tense as he splits his attention between the road and checking on you through the rearview mirror. when he can’t look, he’s listening. you let out a sound, meant to acknowledge them both. your awareness sharpens, and so does your pain.
“i’m fine,” you mumble back, voice flat and quiet. even sam can barely hear it, but dean catches the words too. “it’s all fine. i– i didn’t say anything. i didn’t say anything.” dean glances back, and sam looks at you in confusion.
“you didn’t say anything?” he repeats softly, trying to understand what you mean.
you give a jerky nod of your head. then you shake it the other way. “didn’t say anything,” you say again, “about the tablet. they wanted to know, but i didn’t say anything.” your voice is breathy and tired, and you’re mumbling so much that sam can barely make out what you’re saying. but he understands now, why you were taken. the tablet; you mean the demon tablet. the demons took you to get information on the demon tablet, thinking they could break the youngest winchester. 
of course, they couldn’t, but the thought boils his blood with fury. that anyone thinks they can use you for something like that. or that they think you’re a weak link, just because you’re the youngest. or maybe it was to cause the most chaos, the most panic. to mess with you is to raise hell. that’s what demons are for, of course, but they were stupid enough to think it wouldn’t just get them all killed.
“they took you for that?” dean growls, his voice dangerously vicious, “the fucking demon tablet?”
“the demon tablet,” you breathe out, your less bruised cheek finally falling to sam’s shoulder with exhaustion. he tucks you even closer into his side. “i didn’t say anything, though.”
“we know,” sam murmurs, wanting to ease your anxiety. his heart aches that you think the stupid tablet is the most imortant thing here. you’re bleeding all over his jacket and practically delirious from pain. you’re all that he and dean care about right now. “we know. we don’t have to worry about that now, okay?”
“mhmm,” you hum, “cuz they still don’t know where it is.” your voice is so hoarse. as if you’d been screaming. presumably, you had been, and that makes your brothers see red. dean’s grip on the wheel is knuckle-whitening, and sam is only able to be gentle for your sake. his shoulders hold all of the tension just like they hold up your trembling body. the car almost swerves before dean has to force his thoughts away from what you might’ve endured. he’s all too familiar with demon torture. he thinks about killing the demons who hurt you over again.
sam thinks about it too, but just for a moment. “yeah. and because you’re safe now,” he tells you firmly. 
“safe now,” you echo softly. everything hurts. the pain is bone-deep, but you believe him when he tells you that you’re safe now. “i knew you’d come get me,” you mutter, eyes never staying open for longer than a moment or two. you look as tired as you sound. maybe that’s what got you through it; the knowledge that it would be over, one way or another. either your brothers would come to rescue you and kill your captors, or you’d die first. they certainly would’ve still killed all those demons if that were to happen, and probably many, many more. but no one likes to think about that.
because you’re safe now.
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dulcescorderitas · 2 days ago
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"on your knees."
his voice, low, edged with a quiet authority that curls down your spine and pools hot between your thighs. you don’t hesitate. the floor is cool against your bare knees, but you hardly notice. not when he’s standing over you, his fingers curling into your hair, tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.
"you know what to do," he murmurs.
and you do.
your fingers work at his belt, pulling the leather free, undoing the buttons with a practiced ease. his cock is already hard, already waiting for you, and the way he watches you—eyes dark, possessive—makes your pulse race.
"open," he commands, and you obey, tongue flicking out just in time for him to drag the head of his cock across your lips.
"that’s my good girl," he breathes, before pushing into your mouth, slow, deliberate, filling you inch by inch until your throat stretches around him.
his grip tightens in your hair, a soft groan slipping from his lips. "fuck, you take me so well."
you moan around him, hands gripping his thighs for balance as he sets the rhythm, slow at first, teasing, before his patience thins and he starts fucking your mouth properly, his cock sliding deep, pulling back just enough for you to catch a breath before he’s buried again.
"mine," he growls. "every fucking inch of you."
and you? you are nothing but eager to be claimed.
taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @sunnyteume
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sunsbaby · 2 days ago
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⌞ sam winchester x fem!reader ⌝
ּ ֶָ֢ 𓍯𓂃 p!v . reader has a tattoo . cumming inside |wrap it up!| . size difference . biting . tummy bulge .
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When Sam first saw the small tattoo near your nape his mind went straight into the gutter. The small angel wings that were always hidden behind your hair now available to his eyes—his eyes only.
It only makes sense that when he has you face down, arched like your life depended on it, hips slamming against your ass, his hand gripped tight on your hair. His large body casting a shadow over yours, hickeys marking your neck and around the tattoo.
"So good f'me, angel." That's what Sam started calling you immediately after his eyes caught sight of the ink.
His cock drilled into you, hitting your cervix with each harsh thrust. Squelching noises of your dripping cunt, and the sound of skin slapping against each other filled the room.
"Sam–ohh, mmm...please please!" You babbled, cheek pressed against the pillows, his hand pushing you down. Drool fell onto the sheets as your fingers gripped the fabric—trying to find a bit of stability.
Your orgasm was nearing and Sam knew. He leaned down, trailing soft kisses down your spine which were different to the harshness of his thrusts. His cock was bullying your insides, reaching places no other man could. He was so thick and long—filling you up completely. You continued to let out incoherent noises, your mind completely fuzzy and full of one thing only. . .
Sam and his dick.
"Cum f'me angel, I know you can take it." You heard him say as he bit down onto your tattoo. Pain and pleasure trickled into your senses, adding onto your orgasm.
"Sam, sam, sam!" You repeated his name like a prayer, but what you both were doing was anything but holy.
Your body shook and shuddered, yet Sam kept his pace the same. Continuing to fuck you hard and deep. His free hand now griping onto your nape, the other tangled up in your locks, pressing you down roughly as he used you. Your juices coated his cock, a white ring around the base. You continued to whine, body aching for him
When Sam came he threw his head back, filling you up with his seed. The white substance coated your walls. He stayed inside as he tumbled down from his high—panting and sweating. The hand that was tangled up in your hair trailed down near your lower belly, his palm pressing against the bulge there.
His smile widened at the feeling, as well as seeing you marked up. Hickeys littering your back and everywhere else. The angel wings now covered in red love-bites.
"That's my girl..." Sam cooed as your eyes fluttered shut, slowly slipping out and watching his cum drip out of your pussy.
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sunny yaps! ANOTHER SAM SMUTT!! He's been on my mind so much lately im not JOKINGG!! I HOPE U GUYS ENJOY IM NOT THE BEST AT WRITING SEX STUFF BUT YKK!! NOT PROOF READ!
special tags! @bluemerakis @figthoughts
𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!
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starzify · 2 days ago
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ready — sam winchester
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pairing stanford!sam winchester x fem!reader
warnings smut | handjob | sam is inexperienced | dom/sub undertones
SPN MASTERLIST
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Sam had been your tutor for months, patiently guiding you through your college coursework. In return, you started tutoring him in something he’d never had the chance to learn—something he’d barely even let himself think about.
It started as a joke, a passing tease about his inexperience, but the way he fumbled for a response—how his ears burned red, how he couldn’t meet your eyes—told you the truth. Sam Winchester, all six-foot-something of him, had never been touched. Never felt a hand trace his skin with intent. Never been taught how to lose himself in someone else’s warmth.
And maybe, just maybe, you were going to be the one to change that.
You look at the time and notice that you only have a couple of minutes before he arrives so you decided to take a quick shower.
In the middle of turning off the water, the sound of a knock hit your ears. You grabbed the white towel and dried your body, quickly moisturizing your skin before hurrying to the door.
Leaving your hair wet, you went to open the door. Standing tall at the door frame was Sam Winchester, a bag over his shoulder and your laptop safely in his grasp.
He finally met your eyes and realized that you were only in a towel as he cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were busy.”
"Come in, just give me a few seconds to change.” You let him in, allowing him to sit on your bed.
You quickly grabbed some pyjamas and shut the bathroom door, dropping the towel to the floor to change.
When you exited the bathroom, you threw the towel in the hamper beside the door. You found him looking over to the stack of books you’ve chosen for him to read.
"I realized that reading is more of your thing, so I found some really good books I've already read for you to read. Why watch porn when you can just read it?" You go over and pick two steamy ones out and hand them to him.
He turned the book to read the description in the back, when his eyes slightly widened, you knew that you picked out the perfect books.
"Here, I read one and you read the other. Alright?" You took one of the books from his hand, leaving him with your favourite one.
"I think you'd like this one more" You sat on the chair near your desk, opening opening book.
You would often peek up at him to see him turn a page and Sam’s eyes never left the pages once. A cherry-like blush crept its way to his face and his lips opened a little bit before closing it, finally noticing that his mouth was open.
You let him continue reading for another thirty minutes, but you hadn't read a single word since you opened the book. You were too busy watching his innocent eyes read such dirty words.
You shut my book, moving in front of him. You used your index finger to lift his chin and admire his flushed face.
"It's a little hot in here, let me help"
You unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt, showing the silver chain around his neck "Better?"
He sat up a little bit more with a nod, fixing his posture and that's when you slowly glanced down at the hard-on in his slacks.
"My favorite part of the book is.." You run your hand up to his thigh, barely touching the side of his groin.
"When she slowly undresses herself and doesn't let him touch only watch as she touches herself and moans his name" You play with the collar of his shirt before going back to place your hand on his thigh.
"Or when she doesn't touch him until he begs her too" His hands fall to his sides.
"Is that what you want? Do you want me to touch you, Sam? I need you to use your words or I won't know what you want" He gulps, biting his lower lip as your hand only slowly creeps its way close to his covered dick before moving away back to his thigh.
"Y/N…please.. can you touch me?" You almost moan just by the desperation in his voice as you begin to unbuckle his belt, running your hand over his bulge before taking him out of his slacks.
You sucked in a harsh breath at the sight of his cock. He was big. So fucking big and perfect. "I-Is this alright?" You switched your eyes to him, almost like he wanted to hide himself away because you had been staring for far too long. 
"It's perfect, so damn perfect" Sam relaxed a little bit but that didn't stop him from blushing harder.
"I wonder, would you like it if I ran my tongue along here?" You use your index finger to run up the base of his dick, letting his mouth fall open with a nod.
"Or if I were to take you all the way down my throat?" You squeeze the head of his dick, making him release a moan that could make anyone wet.
He followed your gaze when your got down on my knees, the strap of your flimsy shirt sliding down your shoulder which caused him to take a peek at your boobs. You pushed out your breasts even more, causing his entire face to go red.
"Do you fantasize about them? How soft they would feel in your hand, massaging them? Or having them wrapped around your dick while I look at you with such innocent eyes until you cum?" You softly asked, stroking him with an occasional twist of your hand.
“Or how good they'd look in your mouth?" You wanted... no. You needed to touch yourself but this was about him.
"Oh my.." You watched his chest heave up and down, your nipples pushed against the fabric of your thin shirt.
"I bet you would love to feel my lips around you, sucking and letting my tongue tease over your tip. The feeling of coming over my tits or deep down my throat, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you, love?" He quickly nods his head and you don't think he's realized he's admitted to it.
“You're so hard, Sam. You’re doing so good for me right now.” his hips bucked up, his muscles bulging in his shirt which allowed you to make a mental note that he likes to be praised.
“Y/N... I'm— I-I.. oh please keep going" His words became a complete mess as he grew closer, throbbing in your hand.
"Cum for me, Sam. Let me make you feel good." You sped up the pace of your hand, making sure to run my thumb over the tip before using his pre-cum as lubricant to squeeze the base of him.
Sam bit down on his lip but you tapped on his thigh to make him stop his actions. "I want to hear you, baby." he never looked away. Even when you thought he would, he didn't.
With each twist of your hand, you knew only one thing would set him off completely. Almost as if he knew something was coming, your eyes shined with a devious glint.
You placed a peck to the tip of him which set him off, making him bundle your bedsheets with a grip that made his veins nearly pop. You placed another one on the base of his dick, the second kiss making him lean his head back on his shoulders and his thighs tense on both sides of you.
You were pressing your thighs together painfully to where your knees dug into the wooden floor, watching him unravel in your hand.
The pain was worth the sight.
His shaggy bangs were now slightly wet due to sweat, sticking to his forehead. The v-neck of his shirt further showed a few sweat droplets running down his chest that you so wanted to see.
When he finally calmed down, he stayed silent. You got up from the floor and wiped your hand with napkin and disposed of it in the trash can before going over to him and leaning towards his ear.
"Maybe next time, I'll let you fuck my mouth" You pressed your lips a little below his ear, feeling his hands clutch the sheets again.
“I-I can't handle it when you say things like that" he admitted as you fixed his shirt for him.
"Why do you think I say them?" Your faces were close. One more inch closer and your lips would have touched.
"Because I know how hard it makes you" You let him fix himself and his pants. You pick up the books that had fallen to the floor.
"Take them with you" you give him both books. "I can't help but notice that you've taken a liking to read dirty literature" He places the books in his bag.
You walk over to the door to open it for him before stopping and peering up at him.
"Think of me when you try to study." You step up to his height a little bit and kiss his cheek.
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tags: @ultravi0lence14 @titsout4jackles @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @deanangel @beausling @deanswidow @figthoughts @dulcescorderitas @florchids @sunsbaby @sunsettsam @deansbeer @soldiersgirl @h8aaz
cassie chats: YUMMY IN MY TUMMY
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connorsui · 5 hours ago
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Men who only have a soft spot for... her
He’s a problem. A walking, talking... paradox of sharp edges and soft hands—except the soft is reserved for her and her alone. To the rest of the world, he’s all business: measured words, steady hands, a gaze that doesn’t waver. But the moment she walks into the room? His composure unravels, just a little. Enough for his fingers to twitch, for his breath to catch, for something unbearably fond to settle behind his eyes.
It’s... pathetic, really. He knows it. She could ask him for the world, and he’d set it at her feet without a second thought. Hell, she could ask him to kneel, and he’d do it. Not because she wants power over him—no, she doesn’t even realize what she does to him—but because she’s her. His undoing. His salvation. The only thing that makes this whole godforsaken life worth it.
He watches her across the room, the way she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the way she bites her lip in concentration, completely unaware of the fact that he’s starving for her. It’s not just want. It’s not even need. It’s something deeper, something that’s settled into his bones and taken root in his bloodstream.
She turns, catches him staring. Raises an eyebrow, amused.
“You good?”
Not even close. But he smirks, tugs at the knot of his tie like it’s strangling him. “Yeah, sweetheart. Just thinking.”
Thinking about how he’s never letting her go. About how she could walk him straight off the edge of the world, and he’d follow without hesitation. About how he’s already ruined for anyone else, because she’s it. The only light in his life, the only thing that makes him human.
And God help him, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
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wendichester · 2 days ago
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Okay so "happier" both parts just yk
Tore out my heart
Thanks.
But now I feel extremely guilty SO! REQUEST! Cuz how else would we deal with feelings
So, on that note, I'd like to request a Sam x Reader (established relationship), and like Sam has been away from the bunker with Dean for a hunt, but it took longer than expected bc they got another hunt right after and thus stayed away for like a week, and when he comes back it's just like tired, fluffy cuddles but refusing to sleep bc "we gotta make up for lost time"
(And maybe, if you think it's a cute idea, sleepy proposal where it's just in the moment, a quiet mutter of those four words)
Tysm and seriously I love your works, even when they make me cry <3
𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ lost time,
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summary. sam’s been gone too long, and now that he’s home, he refuses to let sleep steal a second more from you.
pairing. sam winchester x reader
wordcount. 810
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The bunker door creaks open, and you’re already rushing down the hall before Sam can even set his bag down.
He barely has time to brace himself before you crash into his chest, arms wrapping tight around his waist. His laugh is soft and tired, rumbling through him as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling deep.
“Missed you,” you mumble, voice muffled against his flannel.
His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “Missed you more.”
Dean claps him on the shoulder as he passes by, mumbling something about a shower and beer before disappearing down the hall, leaving you and Sam alone in the dim light of the war room.
You lean back just enough to look at him, your fingers tracing over his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes. “You look exhausted.”
He hums, tilting his head into your touch. “I am.”
“Then let’s get you to bed.”
But he shakes his head, a sleepy little smirk playing on his lips. “Not yet.”
“Sam—”
His hands slide down your back, anchoring you to him. “We gotta make up for lost time.”
Your heart stumbles over itself. “You’re literally falling over,” you point out, brushing his hair back, reveling in the warmth of him, the way he’s pressing every inch of himself into you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
His nose nudges against yours, lips barely grazing, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Don’t care,” he murmurs, voice heavy with exhaustion and something sweeter. “Just wanna be with you.”
You let out a breathy laugh. “You are with me.”
“Not enough,” he mutters, catching your lips in a kiss—soft, slow, lingering. He tastes like road coffee and something distinctly Sam, something that makes warmth pool in your chest, something that feels like home.
You let him steal a few more kisses before tugging him toward the bedroom, despite his sluggish protests. The second the door closes behind you, his arms wind around your waist again, his face burying in your neck.
“God, I missed this,” he exhales, lips brushing over your skin.
Your fingers slide into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, and he shivers, exhaling through his nose. “Missed what?”
“You,” he murmurs. “The way you smell. The way you feel.” His lips ghost over your jaw, up to the corner of your mouth. “The way you kiss me.”
You smile against him, pressing one more kiss to his lips before coaxing him toward the bed. He groans when he finally collapses onto the mattress, arms still wrapped around you, pulling you down with him.
You settle against his chest, his heartbeat slow and steady beneath your ear. His fingers trace absentminded circles on your back, his lips pressing lazy kisses to your hairline.
For a while, it’s just soft breathing, the warmth of him surrounding you, the quiet comfort of being back where you belong.
And then, barely above a whisper—so soft you almost think you imagined it—Sam murmurs, “Marry me.”
Your breath catches.
You tilt your head up, heart hammering against your ribs. “What?”
His eyes are half-lidded, heavy with exhaustion, but there’s something sure, something steady in the way he looks at you. His fingers brush against your cheek, his lips quirking into a lopsided smile.
“Marry me,” he repeats, voice low and warm, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
Your chest tightens. “Sam, are you—?”
“Serious?” His thumb traces the curve of your cheek. “Yeah.”
You stare at him, searching for any hesitation, any sign that this is just sleepy delirium talking. But all you find is Sam—soft and certain and yours.
Your lips tremble. “You don’t even have a ring.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “I’ll get one.”
“You haven’t even planned a speech.”
He grins. “Do you really want a speech?”
You bite your lip, shaking your head.
“Good.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, voice dropping to a whisper. “Just want you to say yes.”
And really, how could you ever say anything else?
You curl your fingers into his shirt, pressing your face into his chest, your smile aching against his skin.
“Yes.”
Sam lets out a long breath, one of his arms tightening around you, his other hand burying in your hair. His lips find your temple, your cheek, your jaw, each kiss slow and lingering, sealing his promise.
Sleep tugs at him then, his body melting into the mattress, his grip on you loosening only slightly. “Gotta get a ring tomorrow,” he mutters, already halfway gone.
You smile, fingers tracing over his heart. “Plenty of time for that.”
He hums in agreement, his breathing evening out, warmth radiating from him as he finally lets sleep take him.
And as you lie there, wrapped in his arms, heart still racing, you know—this is everything.
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holdinggrudges · 1 day ago
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ohhh tipsy sam how i love you. literally...the playfulness flipped into sensuality, oh i barked fr. also the implication that sam is regularly ruining pairs of underwear genuinely made me laugh out loud bc, frankly, believable.
also, only tangentially related, but i feel like tipsy sam body worshipping would go crazy insane?? like even sober, he is, of course, obsessed w his girl, but tipsy, with inhibitions lowered...oh he's spending hours kissing every inch of skin i can just feel it in my bones. once again, need him biblically 🙏
ummm anyways.. idk how this reblog ended up so yappy i fear ive had something awoken inside of me. great work as always, definitely obsessed 😅
meddle about ── . ✶ s. winchester
summary: you have a date night with sam and he gets tipsy (and horny)
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pairings: established sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem! reader warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, no use of 'y/n', porn with very little plot, fluff, mentions of drinking, tipsy reader and sam, smut, oral fem! receiving, unprotected p in v sex, a sprinkle of a praise kink, aftercare, title is a chase atlantic song of the same name, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own word count: 1.7K a/n: i just need to have tipsy sex with sam RN, this was inspired by an ask blondie (@ohsc ugh i miss them dearly T-T) sent me a while back but i was reminded of it recently and decided that i needed to write it. lowkey sped run writing this bc intended it to be a blurb but i love to yap so enjoy the one shot! sam winchester masterlist
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SAM USUALLY DOESN’T drink a lot, preferring to stay level-headed and coherent enough to watch out for you and Dean when the three of you go out. There are times when he indulges himself after a successful hunt and gets tipsy, but he is usually sobered up by the end of the night. 
Tonight was different though; the two of you had a date night, which was far and in between considering how often the three of you went out on hunts across the country. But lately, monster appearances were scarce, and other hunters were sent to take care of them. But you were starting to get stir-crazy within the bunker. So Sam took the two of you out on a nice dinner date, having gotten a reservation at one of the nicer restaurants in Lebanon.  
The both of you indulged in the drinks that the restaurant was serving, having copious amounts of wine—which always managed to make Sam a giggly and a happy drunk, his cheeks flushed and a dopey smile on his face. 
You were the one who drove back to the bunker since instead of having one last glass like Sam did, you had some water instead, sobering you up quite a bit. You were glad to see that Sam was letting loose for once and that the tension that he always held in his shoulders had dissipated. But once you got back to the bunker, Sam clung onto you and peppered kisses on your face and neck, stopping the two of you from heading to your room by pinning you against the cool walls of the bunker and pulling you into multiple small makeout sessions. 
You laughed against his lips at his sloppy kisses—they were usually more coordinated and precise. But tipsy Sam was eager and uncaring, but his kisses never lacked passion, whether it was a slow and sweet kiss or a lustful and dirty kiss. 
You managed to finally make it to your shared room with your boyfriend. You weren’t as tipsy as Sam, but you had a pleasant buzz thrumming through you, and you could feel that your face was flush with warmth (or it might have been from how Sam cupped your face in his hands as he pushed you against the wall and kissed you). 
Sam’s hands were on your hips and backing you up until you fell on the soft sheets of the bed. He all but collapsed on top of you, catching himself before he could hurt you with his broad frame. You let out a small laugh, Sam smiling widely at the sound, and you saw the amusement and desire shine in his hazel gaze as he looked down at you. 
“What?” You asked with a smile on your face as you cocked your head to the side slightly as you looked up at the man hovering over you. 
One of his hands came up to caress your cheek. “You’re beautiful. Just can’t believe that you’re mine.” Sam’s words were slightly slurred, but his tone was filled with reverence and adoration. 
“M’all yours.” You said with a breathy smile. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you, his body slotting in between your open legs. “Love you Sammy.” 
“Love you too, honey.” Sam placed his lips against your slightly swollen ones, the feeling of love and desire washing over you as his soft lips moved against yours. He tasted like the sweet wine the two of you were drinking earlier and something you could only describe as distinctly Sam. 
The kiss slowly turned hotter and passionate, Sam’s tongue swiping at the seam of your lips before delving into it and sliding his tongue against yours in a sensual dance. Sam started to rut against you—his jean-covered bulge rubbing against your covered core sent sparks of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t enough, and he could tell. 
Sam broke the kiss, and you didn’t realize that you needed to breathe until you almost gasped for air. However, he was relentless with his kisses, trailing them down your jaw and neck. He nipped and sucked at your neck, marking you up as his hands went to the hem of the dress you were wearing for the date and started to lift it higher on your thighs. 
Sam made quick work of your dress, leaving you in only your underwear in front of him and let out a low groan at the sight of your bare chest. Before he could do anything, you sat up and tugged at the button-up shirt that was driving you crazy all night. It was a simple, crisp white button-up (no doubt from one of his fed getups), but the kicker was that he had rolled them up to the crook of his elbow, exposing the tanned skin of his forearms that never failed to make you salivate over them. You had a hard time focusing on him when all you wanted was to stare at his arms all night.
You managed to get all of the buttons undone before Sam’s hands landed on your shoulders and pushed you back on the bed, making a startled laugh escape your lips before it turned into a soft moan, feeling Sam nip at the smooth skin of your inner thighs as his hands trailed up your legs and thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake as his deft fingers found the hem of your soaked underwear. 
Sam’s eyes were honed in on the wet patch of your underwear before leaning in and pressing a sloppy kiss against it, making you jolt from the sudden contact before you heard a rip of fabric. You opened your mouth to chastise Sam for ruining another pair of underwear, but all that came out was a moan of his name as Sam’s dexterous tongue began to lave and lick at your weeping cunt. 
“Taste s’good, baby.” Sam’s words were mumbled into your skin, sending vibrations through you and adding to the already rising heat of pleasure running through you. 
Sam ate you out messily, uncaring of the slick covering his nose, lips, and chin as he drank in your arousal. Your hands were wound in his hair, pulling at it slightly and grinding into his face, chasing your high. 
You could feel sweat coat your body as Sam worked over your heated cunt. You came with a shout as pleasure shot through you and clenched around nothing as Sam kept his lips wrapped around your sensitive clit, sucking on it softly, working you through your orgasm. 
When you came to your senses and calmed down from your high, Sam was in the process of stripping off his jeans, his shirt long gone, and you stared at his bare torso. His sun-kissed skin was littered with scars, some big, some small, and the black ink of his tattoo stood out on his chest. 
“See something you like?” Sam teased as a sly smile grew on his face as he stroked his hard cock. 
You bit your bottom lip. “Yeah, you.” 
Sam let out a small chuckle before getting back on the bed, making you shift up to the pillows as Sam crawled up and over your body. 
There was still a haze over his eyes, but it mainly was lust rather than the haze of inebriation. Sam dipped his head down to kiss you deeply as his bare cock rutted against your slightly sensitive core. 
A groan left Sam’s lips as your tight cunt stretched around his cock. “Fuck, you’re so tight honey.” 
A whine escaped you at the feeling of Sam’s cock filling you up to the brim. The two of you panted into each other’s mouths; the feeling of one another was overwhelming—the air was buzzing with lust and thirst for one another. 
Another whine left you as Sam began to move slowly, pulling out until his tip was the only thing inside of you before pushing back in with a sharp thrust. From there, Sam started to pound into you with reckless abandon; his thrusts were unrelenting as he let his inhibitions run rampant—no longer clouded by rational thought. 
“You feel so good around me– fuck– such a good girl f’me.” Sam groaned out before pulling you into a kiss that was mostly teeth and tongue as he continued to fuck you into the mattress, the headboard thumping against the wall of your bedroom. 
A symphony of moans and groans filled the room alongside the sound of Sam’s skin hitting your flesh. You and Sam ran on your basic instincts and the urge to reach and fulfill your unrestrained desires for one another.
Both of you were unaware of how loud the two of you were being as Sam slammed into you. You were scratching at Sam’s back as his head was buried in the crook of your neck, biting and continuing his work of marking you up— red and purple bruises already blooming in the spots he had already nipped at. 
“My pretty girl, can’t get enough of you. So amazing. Love you so much baby.” Sam’s voice was thick with lust as he murmured praises in your skin and ear. 
He managed to wind one of his hands in between the two of you, Sam’s thumb swirling circles into your clit as he shifted his hips slightly and started to hit your g-spot with every thrust. 
“Gon-gonna cum.” You whined out feeling the heat in your core bloom brighter and hotter. 
“Yeah? Be a good girl and come around my cock.” Sam’s commanding tone made you clench harder around him, a low grunt coming from him as his hips stuttered slightly at the sensation of you wrapped tightly around him. 
Sam pressed down on your clit harder and you came with a sharp cry, your cunt contracting around his thick cock, triggering his own release as he shoved himself inside of you and let his cum fill you up even further.
The two of you stayed connected for a while as the two of you came down from your highs. Sam pulled out his softening cock, a whimper leaving your lips at the sensation of being empty. Sam made his way to the on-suite bathroom and used warm water to wet a hand towel. He quickly cleans you up and then himself up before maneuvering your tired and pliant body underneath the covers—tucking you into his side before falling asleep, uncaring of how he would probably wake up with a slight headache in the morning. 
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bohemianblasphemy · 2 days ago
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After my rough day today I have fluffy n smutty Sam thoughts…
I just know that giant is the best at comforting you after a long day, being able to just engulf you in an embrace as you lay in bed together- holding you tight against his chest as he rubs your back, following the curves of your body, fingers lingering along your hips and squeezing your flesh softly.
“I’ve got you sweetie…” he’d coo in your ear, pressing soft, tender kisses to your face and neck- praising you- hearing those sweet sounds of bliss that fell from your lips, encouraging him to keep going- wanting more from him.
“Let me make you feel better sweet pea… let me do all the work.” He’d murmur in your ear, listening out for your breathy ‘yes’ as his fingers slip down your stomach and tease the edge of your underwear, before disappearing between your thighs.
Sams long digits pulled the thin fabric to the side, dragging his fingers along your delicate slit as he coaxes your moans out of your mouth. His gaze never leaves yours as he slips his fingers inside you, smirking at how you react to his touch as he continued; wanting to make you cum.
“That’s it baby… let me take care of you, the way you deserve to.”
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losers-clvb · 16 hours ago
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I haven't watched Smallville yet, but this is still hot as fuck
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DARK SIDE OF THE MOON ♡
pairing: redk!clark kent x fem!reader x soulless!sam winchester
summary: your boyfriend sam has been acting strange lately. good thing your other boyfriend clark is willing to help you figure out what's going on with him. unfortunately for you, he doesn't get very far before he starts acting weird too.
cw: nsfw (18+), au, smut, mild dubcon, threesome, p in v, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, facefucking, overstimulation, praise/degradation, hints of asphyxiation kink
a/n: comm for my wife @fearcvlt. thank you to the anon who infected us with the sam-clark disease 🙏 also i know sam doesn't lose his soul till season 6 but it's my fic so this is early seasons sam. don't like it kiss me about it.
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Sam has been acting weird lately.
You’re not sure what it is. You can’t pinpoint an exact detail about him that’s shifted. From the surface, he looks the same. He still dresses the same. His voice sounds the same. His hands and mouth feel the same. It drives you crazy, not being able to narrow down what you mean. What you know has changed. 
Because while the alterations are imperceptible, you know they’re real. All of that stuff hasn’t changed on a technical level, but to you, his girlfriend, someone who knows his very being like the palm of your own hand, it’s not the same.
Physically, he’s your Sam. The one you’ve been with since your second semester of college. His dark brown hair hangs too close to his eyes like always. The warmth in his hands radiates with regularity as they coast across your and Clark’s bodies. His words reach your ears in the soft, calculated manner you’ve come to expect from him.
But you swear on everything you have in this world, on both your lovers’ lives, that all of this comes with a new note of unfamiliarity.
While his appearance hasn’t changed, the way his eyes land upon your face has. His gaze feels cold. It nearly stings when it connects with your own. You may recognize his touch, but he’s rougher now. He doesn’t handle you like a cherished doll, nor does he explore Clark with his usual reverence. Instead he tugs and he grabs. His fingers dig into flesh harder than ever before. Scratches and bruises litter the two of you after a night spent together. And while his voice rings out just like it did when you met him in your first criminal justice class all those years ago, the tender embellishments in his sentences have vanished. Vacant silences lie where sweetheart and honey used to appear. 
You sound like a lunatic describing it.
“Can’t you just talk to him?” you plead with Clark for the third time this week. You attempt persuasion by flaunting your puppy eyes at him, but he just shakes his head.
He stands before the full length mirror in the corner of your bedroom while pulling on his shirt. The hazy morning light shines through the nearby window onto his physique, highlighting the contours of muscle decorating his abdomen before they’re covered up by the scarlet sweater he chooses to wear today.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, baby,” he responds, gazing at you through the reflection.
You boost yourself off your mattress where you’d been sprawled out. Approaching him from behind, you snake your arms around his waist and press your cheek to his firm back. He doesn’t have to face you to know the pout that’s taken residence on your lips.
“Well, I can’t think of everything,” you huff, “Just maybe see if something’s wrong. Like maybe we did something and we don’t know-”
“You’re overthinking,” he cuts in while fastening his belt into place.
“You don’t know that because you’ve never actually asked. Maybe he feels like he can’t tell us what’s bothering him for some reason. Or it could be like a guy thing. He blows me off whenever I try to help, so maybe he’ll be more comfortable with just you,” you insist.
He sighs and shakes his head again, reaching for the brush nearby. Clark’s hair rarely ever falls out of place. The only moments you can recall seeing him disheveled are those when he lays in bed with you and Sam, nude body coated in a light sweat and pressed against each of yours. Yet he tends to his black tresses more often than you take care of your own hair.
“It’s not a guy thing,” he chuckles, “He just doesn’t wanna talk about whatever’s going on in his head. You know how he gets sometimes. I’m sure he’ll bounce back soon.”
“But it’s been like over a month. Ever since he went on that trip with his brother, he’s been weird,” you continue, squeezing him as if that would somehow convince him of your point.
“You know his childhood is a sore spot. Maybe being around him brought up some bad memories,” he offers and shrugs.
“But he would have told us about that,” you refute.
You release Clark from your hold as he turns around, his outfit all ready for the day. As you look up at him, your eyes remain full of concern for the absent part of your trio. Your present boyfriend smirks at the worried expression before cupping your cheeks and planting a soft kiss on your lips.
“It’s gonna be ok, babe. He’ll be ok,” he murmurs.
You nod. “Just if you get the chance… please talk to him,” you try once more.
“I will,” he agrees. His hands fall to your waist where they knead the flesh lightly.“Try not to worry too much today, alright? We got that party tonight. You’re gonna look all pretty, we’re gonna have fun, and everything’s gonna be fine.”
He kisses you once more before walking towards the bedroom door. You nod in response to his words and force your shoulders to relax. The mention of his work party you were all going to attend later helps a little to distract you. At the very least it gives you something else to think about for the time being.
Before he heads out, you blow him a kiss like you always do. He pretends to catch it, flashing those fangs of his in a lazy grin.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he says before finally leaving your view.
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Despite your assurance to Clark, you spend much of the day thinking about Sam and possible causes for his perpetually sour mood. Unfortunately, you can’t think of anything that seems like a realistic possibility.
While your anxiety wants you to blame yourself, you really don’t believe something you did is responsible. And he had gone on that trip with his brother a month ago, but they’d been going on their ‘hunting trips’ pretty regularly for the last two years. He never got like this afterwards. Even when his brother annoyed him, he’d just vent about it to the two of you before letting it go.
You try to reason that law school might be getting more stressful. All of his free time not allocated to you and Clark, or to his brother in the Impala, goes to textbooks. He spends hours poring over notes and articles and journals. Maybe that’s it. You try to convince yourself it could be. At least until he and Clark come home for the night with hopefully a more concrete answer.
As the day shifts into evening, you busy yourself with getting ready for the party tonight. It wasn’t anything too fancy. Just some gathering the paper Clark now worked at was throwing. As a new hire, he was one of the employees being celebrated, warranting your and Sam’s invitations.
It’s around six-thirty when you finally hear the front door open. Two pairs of shoes shuffle in. Good. That means Clark met him on campus or Sam drove over to Clark's job after his last class. There would be plenty of time to talk over the course of the distance between your shared house and either of those locations.
You put your earrings back down on the dresser and approach the door, straining your ears in hopes of scoping out any tense silences or relieved chatter. In the kitchen, you can hear the fridge open and then close. A sigh. You narrow your eyes. Was it a sigh of tiredness from work or frustration at the other man? The words that follow answer your question.
“She’s just worried about you,” Clark says. You bite your lip, sensing this may not be going well.
“Yeah, I know. She doesn’t do a great job of disguising that,” Sam responds.
“Then just talk to her. It’s only still a problem because you’re being cagey.”
“I’m being cagey because there’s nothing to talk about. She’s looking for something that isn’t there, insisting-”
You step through the doorway and head towards the sound of their voices. Barefoot and with the zipper on your dress only halfway pulled, you enter the room to join them. Sam finishes his sentence as both his and Clark’s eyes set on you.
“Hi,” you interrupt weakly.
The taller of the two rolls his eyes while your other boyfriend raises his brows in acknowledgement before taking another sip of his drink.
“I just… heard you both talking and thought I should come in here…” you continue. It’s only been a few seconds, but already, it’s starting to feel like you should have waited for them to come to you.
You walk a couple more paces into the space, finding yourself standing equidistant from both your lovers. Your gaze alternates between them before focusing on Sam.
“I know I’m probably worrying over nothing. And I know you said nothing is wrong,” you say, keeping your tone as neutral as you can, “You just seem different. And maybe nothing is actively wrong, but I just want you to know if something happened or like if you’re thinking about something differently that me and Clark-”
“You’ll what? What will you both do?” he asks, “I don’t know what you want from me. Do you want me to make up some problem that doesn’t exist so you can feel accomplished when you fix it?”
“No,” you answer right away, hurt infecting your features.
“Then what?”
“I don’t know…” you say. Your resolve wilts away with each second his harsh eyes stare at you.
“Just stop then. Stop asking me to give you a reason, stop talking about me behind my back, just stop,” he rants, “Did you ever consider you might be projecting? That maybe something is different with you that you don’t want to accept.”
“What?” you ask. Your pained expression infuses with a bout of confusion.
“Think about it. Me and Clark, we know what we’re doing everyday. I’m going to school, he’s going to work. We have our plans in place. You? What are you doing? Ever since you graduated last year, you’ve been floundering, bouncing from idea to idea. Maybe you’re the one who’s fallen off the tracks, but you can’t admit it,” he accuses.
Your eyes widen. That statement cuts you deep, through multiple layers. It is the truth in a sense, but to have it thrown in your face by someone who supposedly cares about you hurts worse than you would have anticipated.
“That’s not true,” you deny.
“Yes it is, and you know it. You wanna blame me for how you’re feeling. You’re losing control of your own life so you want to find something you can fix,” he continues.
“Sam, stop,” Clark interjects on your behalf.
You just stand there, feeling even more lost than you had earlier. He was acting different. You were sure of it. But now you also feel like he maybe has a point. What if he is acting the exact same, and you’re the one losing your grip? Clark hasn’t been as concerned as you, and maybe that’s for a reason.
“What?” Sam says, his eyes flitting towards your other boyfriend, “She’s allowed to talk about me, but I can’t defend myself?”
“You’re not defending yourself, you’re attacking her,” Clark responds before sighing. He puts his drink down and walks closer to the both of you. “Both of you just need to take a second and calm down.”
In the pause that follows, the pain Sam’s words caused doesn’t subside. The throb only emanates from deeper inside your chest. You glance up at your darker-haired boyfriend before turning to the one you could barely recognize.
“I’m not trying to make you defend yourself. I really just feel like something’s been up with you lately. But if you say there isn’t, then there isn’t, and I won’t mention it again,” you finally say.
“There isn’t,” he tells you without more than a second of consideration.
Awkward quiet settles for more than a pause now. You’re not sure if you can just act normal after that, but you don’t want to create more tension by hightailing it to the bedroom. Both of them seem to go with the former. Clark meanders his way back to the counter while Sam turns and digs through his bag for something.
You decide it might be best to follow along. Swiveling on your heel, you walk away from the kitchen and down the hall towards your shared bedroom to finish getting ready. The silence no longer feels calm; it weighs down on you, pressing hard enough to crack.
As you dust powder across your cheek bones and eyelids, you force your breaths to remain even. You swallow hard to prevent your eyes from watering. The mascara wand coats your lashes with black that will stream down your skin if you shed any tears. For a final touch, you spread some sticky gloss over your lips, watching in the mirror how they shine with the glittery substance.
When your face is painted to your liking, you pull on a pair of tights under the crimson fabric of your dress and then sit on the edge of your bed to slip on your shoes. While fumbling with the one on your left foot, you hear another person enter the room.
Your pupils dart towards the door to find Clark there with a sheepish smile.
“Hey,” he starts gently, “You almost ready?”
You just nod, not really in a chatty mood.
He returns the gesture and comes closer, approaching as if you’re a wounded animal.
“You look really beautiful, baby,” he compliments.
“Thanks.”
“Here. Let me help,” he offers and crouches before you. 
He takes your leg between his large hands, rubbing up and down over the smoothness of your tights for a moment. His fingers then fall to the sleek strap causing you hassle. He pushes the little piece of material through the metal clasp. Despite the size of his digits, they move with nimble precision.
“He didn’t mean that stuff he said,” he tells you, voice quiet enough that it wouldn’t leave the bedroom.
“Then why didn’t he come in here?” you ask. Your voice quivers a little bit. You know Clark hears it from the way his big, blue eyes lift to connect with your own.
“He’s just being pissy right now. But I know he didn’t mean it, alright? Neither of us think you’re off track, but even if you were, it’s not the end of the world. You still have time to figure things out. We love you either way,” he says, patting your leg. 
Almost as an extra gesture of reassurance, he plants a soft kiss on your kneecap. It’s intended to be innocent. Something wholesome to let you feel the pure love he’s trying to pour into you with his words. But you can’t help but feel a flicker of desire in your belly. The sight of it only serves to remind you of how he does that when he’s spreading your legs apart and kissing up your inner thighs to somewhere much more intimate.
“He’ll come around. For the record, he is acting different. It’s not just you,” he reassures, reaching up to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger.
The look in your eyes has softened from one of hurt to something more tender. You nod in response, and he smiles.
“That’s my girl. Don’t look so sad anymore. I wanna show off how beautiful you are tonight. Can’t do that if you don’t let anyone see that pretty smile,” he praises.
Your face lifts with the expression he describes. It only increases the curve of his own lips. He rewards you with a small peck. When he pulls away, you can see a splotch of lip gloss on his cupid’s bow. It’s tempting to try and wipe it away with another kiss, but instead you take the more effective route and swipe your thumb across the skin.
“Ready?” he asks and reaches for your hand as he rises to his feet again.
You clasp your smaller fingers around his and stand up. “Almost. Zip me up?” you say and turn to show him the semi-closed fabric.
He chuckles fingers finding the zipper and adjusting it for you with ease. “Always.”
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You stand with your back pressed against the wall, drink in hand, eyes surveilling the room. It’s only around nine o’clock, but you’re more than ready to go home. You keep a smile on your face for Clark’s sake, not wanting to look miserable around the people he has to see on a daily basis.
The party isn’t even horrible. It’s just fine. The ritzy hotel dining room they rented out is fine. The music playing at a reasonable volume in the background is fine. The food is fine. The drinks are fine. The smalltalk is fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. It’s all fine.
Including you. You’re fine too. Not at all upset about earlier. The car ride here had been dead silent. No apology from Sam. Not even a word of acknowledgement. But that’s ok! You could deal with it.
Once the three of you had arrived and made your way inside, you introduced yourselves like you always did, clear enough to convey that you were all a package deal but vague enough to not draw the ire of less open-minded people. From there, you let Clark tell some stories about the both of you. You made sure to laugh at all his jokes, smile at him with the most adoring eyes, and sing his praises to any person who wanted to hear them.
After a while of that, he turned you both loose. You first grabbed some appetizers and a drink and then landed where you are now. Sam had trailed close behind you even though he still wasn’t saying anything.
He’s beside you against the wall. His shoulder leans against it, his body angled towards yours. You can feel his eyes drifting along your figure, but you don’t give in to the temptation of a response.
“You gonna freeze me out all night?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Do you plan on apologizing at all?” you ask, passive aggression lacing in every word.
He exhales a laugh and reaches for your face. His fingers guide your head, forcing you to look at him.
“Is that what you need, baby?” he mocks, “You need me to say sorry?”
You scowl and try to look away, but his digits dig into your skin. He keeps you right where he wants you. Leaning in close to you, his breath fans across your neck.
“Would it really make you feel better if I said I didn’t mean it? Would it really change anything about how you feel? I don’t think so,” he murmurs, “I think you’d like it more if I kissed it better.”
The low tone of voice combined with his proximity fires up that warmth in your tummy you felt earlier. You try to suppress it and maintain your glare.
“What are you doing?” you ask with annoyance, craning your neck for some space.
“What? I thought you’d wanna make up,” he says.
“I- It’s not that. We’re at a party for Clark’s work. It’s not like we’re high schoolers who can just go find some closet to make out,” you huff, “Plus, you definitely are acting different now. You’re always the explainer, and Clark is always the one who wants to kiss things better.”
That brings a small smirk to his face. “We can’t? Or we shouldn’t?” he teases. He moves in again, the tip of his nose brushing your cheek. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I have been a little different lately. But why is that a bad thing? I feel great.”
“Yeah, but it’s not great when you’re being mean all the time now…”
“Mean? Or direct?” he asks, “I’ve never said anything to hurt you. Even when you think I’m being mean, I’m only speaking without sugar coating because I know you can take it. And I know that sometimes you need to hear it. You’re strong. Just as smart as me and Clark. You just need a little push sometimes.”
Your heart beats quicker in your chest. His words are one thing, but the way his rich eyes peer into yours are another. His thumb drags back and forth across your bottom lip now, almost as if coaxing some form of a response.
“It’s still mean even if you don’t intend it that way. It still hurts,” you say. Even if your face can’t move, your eyes fall. “I miss the you who wasn’t so sharp all the time.”
You soften your words, hoping to break the tough exterior that had shielded him for the last month. Though you see no change in his expression. No shift in his gaze.
“You’ll have to learn to love this one just as much then,” he replies.
It stings. The words slice like a blade. He doesn’t care about the falter on your face though. He ducks in, kissing along your jaw to your earlobe. A small gasp leaves you at the soft, wet touches. You squirm in place, nearly spilling your drink as the liquid sloshes within the confines of the glass.
“I can show you how. Just gotta let me,” he whispers. His hand falls from your face to your neck, wrapping it in a seductive embrace.
Your eyes flutter, and for a split second, you want to give in. His lips on your skin feel like traces of heaven. The soft words he speaks hit your ears like gentle caresses lulling you into compliance. But then you remember where you are and who you're here for.
“Sam, stop,” you whimper.
But he doesn’t pull back. He doesn’t just stay in place either. His hand tightens around your throat. It digs in a little, pressing you against the wall. You can still breathe just fine, but the threat of air loss is right there, teasing you just barely.
Your eyes widen now. Sam had never been so aggressive in the bedroom before, let alone in public.
“We’re here for Clark. You’re gonna embarrass him,” you remind.
“He’s a big boy. He can handle it,” he breathes.
Before you can squeak out any more words of protest, a large hand is curling over Sam’s shoulder and tugging him back. Clark looks at him with a raised brow before his focus shifts to you.
“I guess you two made up?” he asks.
You open your mouth to clarify with some version of what actually happened, but Sam cuts you off. “Something like that.”
He takes you by the wrist, spinning so that he’s against the wall while you’re in front of him with your back against his chest. His chin rests atop your head as his hands rub your arms. Clark looks on, almost suspicious at the complete flip in attitudes.
“So how much longer do we have to be here? They’ve already played ‘Mr. Brightside’ like three times. This thing’s gotta be winding down soon, and I’m pretty eager to get back so we can make up some more,” Sam says.
“Not too much longer,” Clark says, the words slow and edged with uncertainty, “I’ll start saying goodbyes.”
You nod gratefully, your appreciation shining through even without words. Sam smirk prevails on his face yet again.
“Sounds good. Just don’t take too long or we might have to get a head start without you,” he says. His tone indicates he’s teasing, but with how he’s acting, you wouldn’t put it past him to try something like that.
“I won’t. Just give me a few,” Clark responds simply before drifting back into the crowd to say bye to the important people.
He keeps his word and only takes a few minutes. If he had taken any longer, you aren’t confident you would have noticed. You feel like you have whiplash from the way Sam has latched himself onto your body. Earlier he spoke like he couldn’t stand you, but now he clings to you like he’d be willing to bend you over one of the nearby folding tables and bring some real excitement to this party.
You try brushing him off, redirecting his hands to places that wouldn’t earn you side eyes from your boyfriend’s colleagues. He’s not interested though. Every few seconds it feels like he’s nuzzling into your neck or smoothing his hands over your sides.
“Sam, quit it,” you whisper.
“Why? I don’t need Clark’s hearing to know how fast your heart is going. I know you like it,” he purrs.
The best you can hope for is guiding him to the exit and letting Clark meet you there. When the man in question finally does make his way in your direction, you can see a bit of frustration on his face. Annoyance gleams from his eyes as they sweep over how Sam holds you like a territorial dog with a chew toy.
You want to apologize. You hate when Clark isn’t happy with you, and you really don’t want to end the day having fought with both of them. But before you could get any words of remorse out, Sam’s already leading you through the front door. He keeps a tight grip on your wrist, now allowing you even an inch to pull away.
Clark follows along. His hand lands on the small of your back. The faint touch grounds you a little, but before it can have any real effect, Sam’s yanking you closer, nearly causing you to stumble over the steps that lead you three into the parking lot.
The confusion that permeates your mind has now spread to Clark’s face and replaces his prior irritation.
“What’s gotten into you?” he asks, trailing behind in broad strides.
“What do you mean?” Sam laughs. He turns around, holding you close again once in range of the car. “You got the keys?”
Even though he does in fact have them, Clark makes no move to fetch the small metal keys from his pocket.
“No, seriously. What’s going on with you? One minute you’re ready to bite her head off for worrying about you, and now you wanna jump her bones in the middle of a parking garage?” he says, not letting up.
“I can’t win with you two. She doesn’t like it when I’m being serious, you don’t like it when I’m not. What’s a guy supposed to do, huh?” he says.
“It’s not like that, and you know it,” Clark challenges, “You have been acting weird lately. I let you deny it because I know what it’s like having to keep something to yourself. But pretending like it isn’t happening does nothing, especially when it’s affecting us.”
You stand there with Sam’s arm over your shoulders, looking back and forth between them. It’s not even an argument yet, but with a few wrong words, it would have no issue transforming into one.
“Please. You didn’t care how it affected me and her when you kept your secrets for years. So spare me a lecture,” Sam dismisses, “I don’t have some great secret. People just change over time.”
“Not so rapidly!” Clark fires back, “You went away for one weekend, and a different person came back.”
“I’m still me,” he says, “If you have such a problem with the person you think I’m becoming then maybe I’m not the only one we should be evaluating. Maybe something’s changing between all of us.”
You look at Clark with pure worry now. He hasn’t outright said it, but these words border on the worst potential outcome. Reaching for his hand that dangles off your shoulder, you give it a squeeze and gaze up at him.
His attention shifts to you. He smiles at the nervousness written all over your features.
“Don’t look so scared, baby. We’re not gonna break up. Unless that’s what you two think would be best,” he says. It’s almost a threat. He puts the power in your hands, but it’s not by choice. He’s not offering it to you. He’s forcing it between your palms and pushing your fingers to close around it.
“No,” you respond instantly.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Clark backs down, his voice dropping a bit.
“Then what did you mean?” Sam asks.
“I just want to know why. Why are you acting like this now? You used to be the reserved one. The one who was always careful about everything. You kept me and her on track. Now, you’re in there acting like a high schooler and making me look like an idiot, being all over her like that.”
“All over her?” he repeats with a chuckle. His arm slithers off your shoulders, leaving your skin exposed to the chilled night air. He takes a few steps towards your other boyfriend. “You jealous, Clark? Because as soon as we got home, you know I’d be all over you too.”
He scoffs and looks away. Truly, you doubt jealousy had been the root of Clark’s discomfort. You would’ve been irritated too if they started getting handsy in front of people you wanted to make a good impression on. But it was hard to not get flustered when confronted so directly. When Sam stalked forward like that.
The brunette slides to Clark’s side and maneuvers himself behind him. His hands flatten against his muscular biceps, rubbing the skin softly through his suit jacket. You watch as his lips brush the shell of Clark’s ear in the same way they had to yours.
“C’mon. You know I don’t play favorites,” he coos.
Your darker-haired lover has his eyes fixated on the car beside you three. You knew the feelings coursing through him right now. The same ones that swirled within you fifteen minutes ago.
Sam’s long fingers move South on Clark’s arms. The tips coast over his elbows and along his forearms before getting to his wrists. You know the exact sensation. Like little lines of fire being drawn across your limbs. Similar to you, Clark goes to resist. He just has the actual strength to carry it out.
He pushes Sam’s hands off and looks over his shoulder. “We’re gonna talk about it. You can’t keep avoiding it and expecting us to just go along with this forever,” he says.
Sam smirks at the assertion. He lets Clark move him away. You notice one of his hands slip into his pocket, but before the act can even register, it’s back out and reaching for your other boyfriend’s wrist again.
“We will talk about it. But not tonight,” he says.
The beginning of a disagreement begins to leave Clark’s lips. But the hand that had reached for his cuts his statement short when it flexes and spreads a thin band over his wrist. Clark looks down at it while you observe with confusion. But then you see a sparkle of red.
Your pupils dart back to Clark’s face. You watch as his eyes flicker with that same ruby color. His shoulders rise, and his chest puffs out with innate pride. He doesn’t have that sweet, lopsided grin; now his lips look sinister and menacing as they curl. You don’t even have to ask what it is. You recognize that look. You know the effects of red kryptonite.
“You’re such an asshole!” you explode at Sam. You step towards him, practically shoving Clark behind you. “Why would you do that?! You know he hates that stuff!”
Your arm swings forward, smacking at his chest. He just laughs and dodges your weak blows. “Calm down. He’ll be fine. I just wanted to help him unwind for the night,” he says.
You go for another strike, aiming for his bicep this time instead. Before your limb can connect, two strong arms have looped around your waist and tugged you back against a firm body.
“He’s right,” Clark chimes in. His chin hooks over your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck, planting kisses there that make you squirm. “I was letting you get me all wound up. Just needed to take the edge off.”
Without responding, your hands fly to his wrist, desperate to get the bracelet off for him. You’d only seen Clark under the influence of this stuff once before. You really weren’t eager to relive the experience.
But he’s quicker than you. He slides his arm away and spins you around to face him in the process. No longer does your boyfriend have his usual look that likens him to a carefree puppy. Now you stare into the eyes of a wolf.
“Clark-” you start and grab for his wrist again.
He laughs and lifts his arm in the air, dangling his hand a foot over his own head. Much too high for you to reach. Still, you jump and try to pull it down by his elbow.
“That’s not my name you know,” he teases.
You stop jumping and glare at him. “I’m not calling you Kal,” you say flatly, “Give me that. You’re not yourself when that stuff is on you.”
“I’m more myself like this than I am any other time,” he disagrees.
Sam comes up behind you and places his hands on your hips. “Come on. Don’t spoil the fun before it’s really started, babe,” he taunts.
“Get off,” you shoo and shoot him a harsh look as well.
None of your efforts have the intended effect though. Nothing you do intimidates either of your boyfriends whose frames dwarf your own against the side of the car.
“So angry,” Sam mocks. He ducks in and kisses your cheek while Clark grabs your chin and makes you look at him again.
“We just gotta find something that calms you down. You need to let loose sometimes. You’re always so worked up and high strung,” Clark says. He strokes your jaw as Sam brings his mouth down to your throat. He starts laying kisses there, the affection more intense than it had been inside the hotel.
His soft lips glide across your sensitive skin. He licks your pulse, scrapes his teeth over the thumping artery. Your breath hitches. They both can hear it. You know that from how Clark’s smile grows that much more smug.
“You know it feels good,” he coos. He leans in, teasing you with the idea of a kiss. His mouth hovers not even an inch from your own. The warmth of his breath puffs against your skin. With the slightest move the two of you would be touching.
“I can feel how bad you want it,” he murmurs, “So why not give in?”
“It’s not like you could get away anyways,” Sam whispers.
And you know it’s true. You can’t do anything they don’t want, especially not something Clark doesn’t want. They’re bigger and stronger. With Clark’s heightened senses, there’s no hope of hiding either. You know the smart decision here is to give in. To give in and then wait for an opportunity to get that bracelet off him.
However, you can’t even say this is a choice based solely in logic or survival instinct. You want Clark’s lips on yours. You crave more touches from them both. While your rational mind hates these versions of the two of them, your body doesn’t care. Your skin breaks out into chills while your heart rate speeds up all the same.
“You’re gonna regret all of this later,” you whisper to Clark, letting your eyes fall to his plush lips.
“Maybe. But I’m not worried about that. I’m living right now,” he responds.
He closes the gap between the two of you. A soft moan creeps up your throat, escaping against his mouth. You feel him smirk. The sound encourages him to deepen the kiss.
Sam presses closer behind you. He pulls your ass flush against his pelvis and kisses your neck some more. It’s like a flurry all around you. If any of Clark’s coworkers were leaving the party now, this sight would only add to the embarrassment Sam and you caused earlier.
None of you are thinking about that though. You’re completely wrapped up with each other. Your hands have found their way into the dark locks on either side of you. The left one grips Clark’s while your right extends back and tugs on Sam. Heavy breaths blow against your face from multiple angles. Large palms grope at the different curves of your body.
Clark reaches down into his pocket. His fingers fish around for a few moments before pulling out the small set of keys Sam asked about earlier. He pulls off your lips and tugs you to his chest away from Sam.
“You drive,” he says simply, sliding the metallic object into the other man’s hand.
Sam huffs out a laugh. “Seems like you’re more eager than me now.”
He doesn’t resist or argue though. Instead, he taps the unlock button and slides around the back of the car to head to the driver’s side. At the same time, Clark opens the door to the backseat and ushers you in with a pat to your ass.
“You had a taste of her in there. Now it’s my turn,” he grins.
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The drive home was a quick one.
It felt like a right turn, a left turn, and then the car slowing as Sam parked it in the driveway. Clark had made good on his words. He took his turn with you. The entire time his hand was up your skirt, his fingers beneath the thin cotton of your panties, drawing little whiny moans from you.
When the vehicle finally came to a full stop, Sam cleared his throat to alert you and Clark. They spoke back and forth a bit, but their specific words eluded you. Before your mind could come down from the high Clark was working you into, they were hauling you inside.
Clothes came off along the way to the bedroom. Clark’s jacket pooled on the floor in the entryway. Your red dress decorated the bannister. Sam’s belt hung around the bedroom door knob.
Now they have you spread before them on the bed. Your panties have abandoned you like the rest of your outfit. You lie bare for their eyes. At the foot of the mattress, they finish undressing themselves. Sam’s in the lead, his fist already stroking his cock while he stares down at you. Beside him, Clark finishes shimmying off his trousers.
“Think it’s my turn again,” Sam says before getting on the bed with you. He takes hold of one of your ankles, pulling the limb aside to spread your legs.
“We can share now. I’m not feeling too patient,” Clark adds. He follows right along with the other man’s movements.
Grabbing your other leg, he pushes it farther away from the other as he crawls towards you. They both descend upon you in sync. With their broad frames, it’s a tight fit, but they manage to both position themselves at the junction of your thighs.
Clark looks to Sam with a big smile across his face. “More fun when we do it together anyways.”
Sam hums in acknowledgement. He stares into those round, blue eyes for a moment more before rotating them to focus on your glistening center. You’re thoroughly slick from Clark’s fingers in the car and all the attention they lavished on you in the parking garage. Two of his digits spread you open. They both gaze at your drippy entrance, your poor swollen clit.
“You don’t even need a warm up tonight, sweetheart. You’re soaked from a few touches,” Sam mocks.
“It was more than a few,” you whimper in defense of yourself.
“Either way… be grateful we’re so nice, willing to give you all this extra attention,” he continues.
“Yeah, especially when you were being so bratty earlier. Talking back, carrying on,” Clark adds.
You whine softly and squirm your hips in an attempt to speed along the teasing. Even with your pouty denial, you know how bad you want them. These words only add to that needy sensation in your belly.
“So desperate,” Sam croons in a low voice.
Luckily for you, Clark doesn’t say anything back. He must have been honest about feeling impatient because instead he just leans in and connects his mouth with your cunt. A sigh bursts from your lips and you tilt your head back against the pillows.
He boosts your thigh over his shoulder and holds it like some sort of handle. His lips kiss your clit a few times, mashing the little bud with their delicate, smooth surface. He then sticks his tongue out and drags it through your arousal. The tip of it sweeps up over your velvety folds and swirls around your button.
Your back arches off the bed. Sam grabs your thigh closest to him and takes it on his shoulder as Clark had done. He turns his head, trailing some kisses over your inner thigh. They start innocent enough, chaste pecks at the most. But as they get closer to your center where Clark is, they grow sloppier. You feel his tongue gliding around in figure eights before his lips engulf the saliva-traced flesh.
When he finally reaches your pussy, you whine loudly. Your eyes flutter, and your heels dig into their backs. They keep you pinned in place, not allowing you to squirm too much or to buck your hips in excitement.
“Good girl,” Clark breathes in a husky tone before sucking on your pulsing clit.
A sharp squeal comes from you. Your toes and fingers curl at the sensation. In the meantime below, Sam prods at your leaky hole with his tongue. At first, he uses broad strokes. He flattens the muscle against your desire-soaked entrance, lapping without shame or hesitance. You moan appreciatively, nice and shameless just how you know they like.
More juices seep out of you as they work you up. That combined with their spit has you thoroughly soaked between your legs. It doesn’t bother them in the slightest. You can see the shimmer of your essence on Clark’s jaw. His eyes are shut, his features relaxed as he showers your tender nub with attention. Sam’s head nods as he licks. It bobs lazily, his nose occasionally bumping Clark’s jaw. He also sports a peaceful expression. It’s the first one on him you’ve seen on him in weeks. He isn’t annoyed or tense or bitter. He’s just lost in the bliss of how good you taste.
Soon, fingers start to get involved. Sam brings his long, slender digits up to slither their way inside of you. He moves his lips North to get more room for them. Clark moves ever so slightly to accommodate him but not by too much. He’s close enough that his nose can still brush against his skin. Close enough that he still feels the occasional swipe of his tongue against his own.
You feel release boiling in the pit of your stomach. Sparkling bursts of ecstasy fizzle from there through all your limbs.
“You gonna cum, baby?” Sam rasps. He pumps his fingers in and out faster, curling them against your clenching walls.
“Mhm,” you force out. Your eyes screw shut while you nod, your head wagging rapidly.
“Go ahead, honey. Cum for us. Show us how good you feel,” Clark hums. He flicks his tongue at your clit just as quickly as your head moves above.
In a matter of seconds, you shriek. Your thighs quiver against the sides of their heads. You roll your hips into the pleasure while clutching at the sheets. Sam’s fingers dig harder into the malleable flesh of your leg. Clark latches his lips onto your bundle of nerves and works you through the high.
At the point where you would normally start to come down, they still haven’t let up. Sam’s fingers don’t recede any. They stay snug in your cunt while Clark continues to make out with your center. You whine. Your hips now buck with the purpose of getting them off. The motion doesn’t achieve that though. They stay right where they are.
“Clark-” you squeal for the main offender. Your eyes roll back and ragged pants of air puff from your lungs. You grab at the two mops of hair between your legs. “Sam...” you whimper with desperation.
Your pleas go unanswered at first. Clark chuckles while Sam grins against your leg. The latter continues to thrust his hand between your thighs.
“What’s the matter?” Sam croons, his brown eyes gazing up at you.
Words tangle up into a needy whine. You bite your lip to suppress the noise before attempting to reply with the sentiment you know they anticipate.
“It’s too much. Too sensitive,” you mewl.
As expected, they only look at you with patronizing smiles.
“Too much?” Clark repeats mockingly, “It’s not too much. You can take it. Can’t she, Sam?”
“She can take it,” the man to his left affirms before redirecting his words at you, “You know you can, baby. You know you like it. You just can’t help yourself. You always need something to whine about.”
“I do not! Ah-” you say, cut off by your own moan.
It’s the feeling of one of Clark’s thick fingers joining the couple of Sam’s that are already inside you. Your toes curl at the minor stretch you feel. It’s nothing compared to the times you’ve taken both of them at once, but still, it brings slight discomfort.
“That’s it, pretty girl,” Clark praises as you lose yourself to the moans.
They both duck back in and work with their mouths again. The tips of their tongues brush against one another as they lap at you. Clark moves in impossibly closer, angling his mouth slightly to the left. It leaves him more open to Sam. It gives him easier access to the other man as well.
Sam knows it’s on purpose. This isn’t coincidental positioning. Clark can be just as needy as you. He just has an aversion to acting so openly pathetic about it, especially with red kryptonite on him. 
His head drifts a little more inward, bringing their mouths even closer together. Sam doesn’t hesitate before taking the leap. He tilts himself towards Clark. His tongue slides out against your cunt, but this time it makes full contact with the other man who moans at the warm, wet caress and reciprocates in full.
Your head pops up at the needy sound leaving his throat. You watch with lust-lidded eyes as their tongues tangle with each other against your folds. Their mouths are still touching your skin. The focus has just become split, flowing to all three points of your triad.
It helps to ease the sting of overstimulation that had been nipping at you. You’re able to actually make the descent back to a normal state of arousal. Reaching towards them, you lazily stroke Sam’s hair. You brush his bangs back from his warm forehead before swapping over to Clark and combing your fingers through his tresses that have become damp with sparse drops of sweat.
As they feel your touch, they become more focused on each other. It’s as if more subconscious parts of their minds understand you’ve been attended to. You’ve been sated. You’re not going to get up and leave, so it’s ok to play with each other a bit.
Sam’s the one to deepen the exchange. He draws his fingers that had gone still from the warmth of your cunt. They land on Clark’s shoulder, sliding up to the nape of his neck to pull him closer. Your other boyfriend doesn’t need to be told twice. He moves in for more, his nose bumping against Sam’s. Their breaths grow louder. You can hear every desperate inhale.
A low hum reverberates from Sam’s throat as Clark pushes him back on the bed. He kisses with the same overeager tenacity of a pup desperate for attention from its master.
Sam crumples on his shoulder, letting his back rest against the blankets beneath the three of you. You rise on your elbows and sit up, readjusting your legs. Your eyes trail over their nude bodies. They catch on the way Clark ruts himself against the crevice between Sam’s hip and the mattress. Sam’s flushed length stands stiff between their bodies, oozing the first beads of pre despite being untouched for the most part.
You’re only left neglected for a few seconds more. Sam manages to guide Clark’s lips down onto his neck. He then tilts his head back and reaches for your wrist.
“Don’t think we forgot about you,” he says with a small tug.
You follow along with the direction and scoot closer. Clark’s still got his mouth attached to Sam’s neck, kissing and licking at the curve of his throat. The recipient of the touches sighs at the dull sense of bliss it brings. Clark grinds himself harder against the bed, letting out a strangled moan before lifting his head.
His eyes are drooping with desire too now. The blown out pupils flit from Sam to you.
“We couldn’t forget about you, baby,” he adds, his mind seemingly just catching up with the words your other lover said.
Grabbing you by your waist, he drags you over Sam’s body and gets you flat on the mattress under him. You can feel the heat of his length against your thigh. Sam sits up beside you and strokes your cheek with two of his long fingers. He studies you for a few moments, looking at you with such intensity. Even in the heat of the moment though, you know he’s different. His normal reverence is absent. There’s hardly any affection in his gaze. It feels empty in a sense. As if his actions are guided by pure carnal need.
“I’ll let you have her pussy, Clark. Think her and I need to make up with something closer,” he says as his thumb pulls your mouth open by pressing on your bottom lip.
The plan receives no argument from Clark. It probably would have had he been the one resigned to your mouth, but he had no protests about getting to fuck you.
“Sounds good to me,” he grins and moves to kneel between your thighs. He tugs you closer by your hips, getting you in the position he wants. “You ready, princess? This won’t be too much for you?”
It’s not said with genuine concern. You’re sure the result would be the same regardless of if you nodded or shook your head. His tip is already nudging at your hole, more than ready to be inside.
You feel his cock sink in and split you open in time with Sam pushing his thumb further into your mouth. A moan bubbles up from you before you close your lips around the digit and suck. You shut your eyes too, allowing the physical sensations to overtake you.
Clark works himself in inch-by-inch. To your surprise, he doesn’t jerk himself all the way in, but he doesn’t go slow either. His desire rolls off him in waves. It’s only a matter of seconds before his tip is kissing your cervix and the thin patch of dark hair above his cock is pressed to your pelvis.
Sam pushes down on your tongue with his thumb. You continue sucking. Having it there soothes you in a way. It staves off any remnants of overstimulation, gives you something to focus on besides the thick cock stretching you apart.
But then he removes it. You whine. Moments after it leaves you, Clark draws his hips back and then slams in again. Now he’s set on picking up the pace. You don’t get a break. He doesn’t take a while to figure out a rhythm. He pounds back and forth, already settling into the one he likes.
Sam is rising up next to your head too. Before you realize what’s happening, he’s tapping the head of his dick on the seam of your lips. Your eyes lift to his face, which looks down at you with a condescending smirk.
“Open up, baby,” he purrs.
Obediently, your lips part. He thrusts himself inside with the same force Clark used on your cunt. You screw your eyes shut to try and repress the urge to gag. He chuckles up above, though it sounds distant to your ears. Being full of them on both ends spreads your senses thin. They try to keep up with everything happening, but they can really only catch the most intense pieces. Everything else blurs into a flurry around you. Clark’s needy grunts, Sam’s satisfied hum, the wet squelches coming from your core. All of it mixes together into a hazy bluster.
Sam’s cock drags over your tongue. It’s much heavier than his thumb. Warmer too. You suck on it all the same. You don’t use too much force or bob your head more than necessary. Even if his personality had been different as of late, you know what affects him on a physical level no matter what. You swipe your tongue over that specific vein and press up on the sensitive ridge that makes him buck. He hisses as you’re able to get him going with only a few small maneuvers.
“Fuck, you’re good at that,” he grunts. His hands land on either side of your head and hold you in place. “It’s much better when you’re using your mouth for this instead of all that worrying.”
As he grips your skull and begins rocking his hips back and forth, Clark rabbits himself harder into you. His fingers dig into you with such force, you’re sure you can feel the bruises forming on your skin. Normally, Clark was more conscious of his strength. He made sure to never pull too hard or hold too tightly. But when that little red stone sits strapped around his wrist, all concern for those kinds of things leaves his mind. All he cares about right now is the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock.
“She’s so fucking tight. Like more than usual. Thinks she likes us better like this,” Clark moans as he continues fucking into you with fast, needy strokes.
“Yeah? That true?” Sam huffs. He thrusts forward and drags your head all the way down on his cock. 
In place of an answer, you gag. One set of your fingers claws at the bedding while your other clutches one of his thighs. He holds you in place for a moment. You can’t breathe. Your heart pounds with panic while your pussy squeezes extra tight around Clark. You hear him whimper at the sensation. It sounds far away, fading almost.
You blink slowly. Your head jerks a little. It’s not a conscious choice. Just the natural survival instinct that drives you to fight for air. You don’t receive it at first. Sam keeps your throat full for a few seconds more before pulling out and allowing you to suck in a breath.
You cough at the sudden influx of oxygen. A few droplets of spit spew forward and flank his v-line. He pets your head, stroking you in a way that seems almost caring.
“Such a good girl,” he praises, “You didn’t even move that much. Kept nice and still like you’re supposed to.”
“Of course. She knows just how to take us,” Clark agrees.
“I guess that’s true,” Sam says, thumbing at your cheek before sliding his cock between your lips again.
He’s not as forceful this time. You don’t stop breathing as you suck and lick at him. He keeps his thrusts pretty shallow. One of his hands rests on the top of your head, maintaining contact without grabbing you.
Simultaneously, Clark’s cock throbs inside you. It aches with the urge to spill. His balls that slap against your ass feel tight, more than ready to drain into you.
Sam can tell he’s close from how hard he’s panting. He doesn’t say anything, just watches. His eyes linger on Clark’s hips as they lose rhythm. They buck against you, sputtering as the rush of release creeps up on him. Sam can feel it approaching for him too. He tilts his head back and lets his eyes fall shut. His hand stays firm on the top of your head, using its position for leverage to start thrusting with a little more fervor again.
You whine around his cock. The faint vibrations only serve to coax Sam farther along. Things feel more blurry for you than it does for either of them. While they feel the clear signs of their impending orgasms, yours arrives suddenly. It explodes within you, snapping like a taut rubber band. Your body twitches and spasms. You feel the urge to arch your back and buck your hips, but you’re stationary for the most part between them.
Clark cums after you. He bursts with a sharp groan. His hips slap against your ass, jerking you upward. He maintains the same firm grip he’s had the whole time. You feel the thick, warm ropes flood you in a few spurts. It feels good, relaxing in a way to know the end is near.
Then your attention is swept up by the man occupying your mouth. Another hiss zips through his lips before you feel the sticky heat of his spend hit the back of your throat. You swallow every drop. It’s not like you have much of a choice. He doesn’t pull out or give you any room to do anything else but accept it.
He holds himself there as his length twitches and then softens. When the pleasure has reached its zenith, he finally begins to slip himself out. A thin string of saliva hangs from your lips and the head before he falls from his knees and sits beside you. He watches as Clark slides out too. Unlike the man by your upper half, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he collapses on top of you.
His body heat seeps into you, his weight crushing your smaller frame. He nips at your neck. “See? It’s so much more fun when you’re not so tense, baby,” he breathes.
“Mhm,” you hum and let your eyes shut.
Sam sinks down next to the pair of you in bed. He doesn’t speak for a couple minutes. Wordlessly, he observes the way Clark holds you beneath him.
“You are much cuter when you’re tuckered out like this,” he says, his voice low and quiet.
You tilt your head against his shoulder and keep your eyes shut, a gesture to show that you’re trying to doze off. Your main hope is that they’ll follow suit. Luckily that seems to be the case as they remain quiet. You hear Sam’s breath even out beside you. Clark stays still on top of you, pressing a lazy kiss to your skin every so often, but it’s not long before you can feel those puffs of air become deeper and more steady.
Once you feel semi-confident they’re both asleep, only then do you open your eyes. As carefully as you can, you shift slightly and reach for Clark’s arm. You keep your movements slow so as to not wake either one of them. When you have his muscular limb held up enough, you hook your fingers around that bracelet and pull. With a little force, it pops free. You don’t know if it’s real or imagined, but you swear you feel his muscles relax.
From your spot on the bed, you toss it towards the closet. The farther it is from Clark the better. You suppose you should probably try to hide from Sam, but for some reason, you don’t feel like he’s set on using it again. Getting it off was pretty easy. Maybe he planned on you doing exactly this from the moment he slid that thing onto your other boyfriend.
Either way, you shut your eyes. You won’t let yourself sleep, but you can at least rest for right now. You and Clark could deal with Sam later. With one of them back to normal, you could figure out how to do the same for the other.
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dulcescorderitas · 12 hours ago
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how i imagine sam spending valentines day
inspired by this angel <3 @doeinlace
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sam would pamper you to the fullest—order both of you a big breakfast, complete with pancakes, eggs, bacon, and enough coffee to fuel a whole hunt (but today, no hunts, just you). he’d wake you up with soft kisses, murmuring, "happy valentine’s day, sweetheart," against your skin before pulling you into his chest for a long, lazy cuddle.
after breakfast, he'd run a bath for you, warm and filled with whatever soothing scents he knows you love, and he'd sit on the edge, massaging your shoulders while you soak. "you deserve to relax," he'd say, voice soft, fingers working out any tension. once you’re out, he’d wrap you in the fluffiest towel and brush through your hair, gentle and slow.
then? a day of whatever you want. movie marathon? he’s got the blankets ready. bookstore date? he’s already marked a few titles he thinks you’d love. just wanna lay in bed and make out like teenagers? say less. and if you let him, he'd read to you—low, steady voice weaving stories while you rest against him.
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taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @sunnyteume @starzify
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starzify · 2 days ago
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SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST
݁𝜗𝜚 = NSFW !!
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SAM WINCHESTER
words ݁𝜗𝜚
shameless ݁𝜗𝜚
stay
struggle ݁𝜗𝜚
pain ݁𝜗𝜚
yours ݁𝜗𝜚
ready ݁𝜗𝜚
DEAN WINCHESTER
missing you ݁𝜗𝜚
crossfire
brat ݁𝜗𝜚
ruin you
let go for me ݁𝜗𝜚
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collywobblvs · 2 days ago
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giggled like crazy reading this 😝😝😝
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⋆ ࣪. — BLUEBERRY!SAM — .࣪ ⋆
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SUMMARY .ᐟ . . . BLUEBERRY!SAM loves getting messy. too messy. the only ways he does is when he's eating his favorite fruit, and when he's eating you.
WARNINGS .ᐟ . . . big nsfw — MDNI!!! . use of petnames, mostly baby . f!reader . cunnilingus + fingering (duh) . sweet n hungry sammy .
GABS YAPS .ᐟ . . . this is my first fic on here ever so pls be nice to me!! likes, comments, + reblogs are very appreciated <33.
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"sammy..." you whine out in a soft yet broken voice as sam continues to eat blueberries out of the container, all while eyeing your half-naked and sprawled out body on the motel bed.
sam hums at your tone as he pops another blueberry into his mouth. the purple colored juice of the small fruit leaks down his chin, meeting the half dried stains of the past ones he's eaten.
"what's wrong, baby? tell me. be good f'me and tell me." the side of his mouth twitches to a soft smirk. the teasing and deep voice that rumbles from his throat goes straight to your bare core. it doesn't help that the squishing of fresh, wet blueberry juice falls from his lips.
you begin to clench on the open air, bucking your hips up softly. you restraint yourself from touching your aching cunt, knowing whatever he's going to do will satisfy you beyond comprehension. but it's still difficult to wait.
sam eats yet another blueberry, dragging his eyes down to your wet folds. "so precious. wonder what you'd taste like with a bit of..." he finally got off his chair and made his way over to you, chewing another berry as he did so.
he slowly kneeled down at the edge of the bed. he grabbed your legs and pulled you closer, gaining a soft gasp from you. his face was mere centimeters away as he smiled at the sight before him.
"added flavor." he groaned while his hot breath fanned against the soft flesh of your inner thighs and the drenched state of your cunt. you let out a small moan from the warmth his words gave you.
"so tell me, sweetheart," he flicked his gaze up to meet yours that was looking down at him. he took in your lust blown eyes, frustrated brows, flushed cheeks, and agape mouth. "what d'you want?" he spoke softly. his voice dripped like honey, but the purple mess around his mouth and chin, slowly making its way down his neck, was making him look far from a sweet man.
he looked hungry. the leftover juice wetted his lips in a way that he almost looked like a vampire in the soft lighting provided by the bedside lamps. he eyed you like a starved man, despite literally eating half a container of blueberries.
you couldn't hold it back anymore. you wanted him. needed him. you forced out your voice, a small twinge of whine at the end of the single word you let slip, "you."
you bucked your hips once more, getting slightly closer to the brunette. "please, sammy. please." you begged. and it worked.
sam immediately buried his face between your legs, pulling you flush against him by your legs. you let out a loud and desperate moan as his blueberry covered tongue worked its way between your folds.
he let out a gutteral groan, the noise sent vibrations against your delicate flesh. you gripped his hair between your fingers and yanked slightly, gaining a moan from him.
the white of your cum mixed with the pink toned purple staining his face. he brought his stained fingers to your hole, plunging them inside and curling them upwards. you let out obscene noises as he continued to hit all of the right spots, all while his tongue circled and softly sucked at your clit.
you shouted his name through pants, whines, and moans as he worked through you. his fingers sliding and curling at a soft, sensual pace while his tongue licked roughly against your pearl and folds.
he savored your taste mixing with the blueberry juice. he pulled away for a moment, earning a pouty whine from your lips. before you could beg him back, he had grabbed a blueberry and stuffed it against your opening, connecting his lips right after.
he licked and sucked against you, pulling the berry out and biting into it, spurting its juices against your cunt. the juice mixed with your own as he continued to move against you, gathering the mixed mess with his tongue slowly.
the sounds of your moans and the wet drags and pops of his tongue and fingers working filled the room, especially when he continued to eat the small fruit against you one after another.
the tight coil burning in your stomach began to break. "mm- sa-sammy," you panted as you grinded against his face, his nose poking your clit, making you moan loudly. "m'gonna-"
"cum f'me, baby. my sweet angel." sam purred against you. the sensation was too much for you to handle. and then you felt the band snap.
the sounds that flew from your mouth were nearly pornagraphic as you shook against sam's face. your fingers tightened their grip on his hair while your thighs locked his head in place. he continued to dig into you while you rode out your high. your back arched as he licked up your orgasm, all that was left were the wet strokes and purple tint his tongue left in it's wake.
your limbs collapsed back against the bed, trying to catch your breath. sam kissed your cunt softly before pulling back and licking his lips. he got up and hovered over you, moving the messy and sweat coated hair out of your face before caressing you cheek.
"you good, baby?" he smiled at your post-glow face before kissing your cheek. "mhmm." was all you hummed before opening your previously closed eyes and grinning weakly at him.
"thank you." you whispered before bringing his face to yours, his warm lips meshed with your cold ones, the taste of you and the fruit prominent. your lips moved in perfect synchronization, tilting your heads to get a better angle. his tongue slipped around against yours for a good while until the two of you had to pull away for air.
"i love you." you panted. sam chuckled softly, pecking your lips. "i love you more, baby." he sighed before laying down and pulling you to his chest. "we're doing that more often, y'know that?" he kissed the top of your head while you smiled and nodded your head, too tired to verbally agree.
go visit my taglist page to choose what you want to be tagged in!! <33.
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supernaturalfreewill · 8 hours ago
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"Sam, I really appreciate this but—I don't want impose on you and Dean. If you guys don't want me here, it's okay. Don't worry about—"
"What? Would you stop?" Sam said, his brow creased with worry. "You're wanted here! Very much." He came over and set a steaming cup of tea down in front of you on the counter. "Please impose as much as you like," he said with a light laugh and a sympathetic look. He watched with satisfaction as you wrapped your hands around the warm ceramic.
"If you say so," you said, returning his warm smile with a small, shy one.
"I do. I absolutely do."
Prompt: "I don't want to impose. If you don't want me here, it's okay. Don't worry about—" / "You're wanted here. Very much. Please impose as much as you like."
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wendichester · 1 day ago
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`౨ৎ~ before standford,
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summary. sam comes to say goodbye before he leaves.
pairing. sam winchester x reader ; angsty
wordcount. 675
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Sam doesn’t know how long he’s been standing outside your door.
Long enough for the porch light to flicker once. Long enough for the lump in his throat to feel damn near permanent.
This is the last stop before Stanford. Before everything changes.
And God, he doesn’t want to knock.
But he does.
The sound is too soft, too hesitant—nothing like the fight he just had with his dad, all raised voices and burning bridges. This knock is careful. Almost reluctant.
A few seconds pass before the door opens, and there you are.
Sam’s stomach twists.
Barefoot, wearing an oversized sweater that’s probably older than both of you, hair messy like you’d just been about to go to bed. You look soft, warm—like home.
"Sam?" Your brows furrow as you take him in. His duffel bag slung over one shoulder, the tight set of his jaw, the weight in his eyes.
And because you know him—because you’ve always known him better than anyone—you don’t ask what happened. You already know.
Instead, you exhale slowly and step aside. "Come in."
Sam hesitates. Just for a second.
Then he does.
The house smells the same—like old books and cinnamon and the faint trace of gun oil. The walls are lined with pictures that don’t belong to people who get out. People like you.
You lead him to the couch, sitting close, knee bumping his. You don’t say anything, just wait.
His throat works. He stares down at his hands. "I’m leaving."
You nod. "I figured."
His head snaps up. "You figured?"
You give him a small, sad smile. "You’ve been talking about this since we were kids, Sam. It was never if you were going—it was when."
He looks away. His chest is tight. "I had to see you before I left."
You nod again, like you understand. Because of course you do.
A long beat of silence stretches between you.
"You scared?" you ask softly.
Sam lets out a breath. "Terrified."
A pause. Then, you say, "Me too."
His eyes flicker to yours, something sharp and aching lodging in his chest.
Because this is what makes it so hard. You.
You’re the only person who ever really got it—the longing for something beyond endless hunts and bloody motel rooms. The dream of normalcy, of stability, of waking up one day and not being afraid.
He should ask you to come with him.
The words sit heavy on his tongue.
But he doesn’t.
Because you won’t.
Because no matter how much you want the same things, you won’t leave.
And he will.
"You’re gonna do great things," you say, voice steady, like you believe it. Like it’s already written in stone.
Sam swallows hard. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," you whisper.
He exhales shakily, running a hand through his hair. "God, this is harder than I thought."
Your lips quirk, but your eyes stay sad. "You could just stay."
It’s a joke. He knows it’s a joke.
But it still hits him like a punch to the gut.
"You know I can’t," he says.
You nod, looking down. "I know."
Another silence.
Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he moves.
Pulls you into a tight, desperate hug. Breathes you in like he’s trying to memorize the way you smell, the way you feel in his arms.
Your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, gripping tight, like you don’t want to let go.
"Don’t forget about me, okay?" you murmur against his shoulder.
Sam’s chest clenches painfully.
"Not possible," he whispers.
He pulls back just enough to look at you. Your face is too close. Your lips are right there.
And God—if things were different.
If this were a world where he wasn’t about to walk out of it.
But it’s not.
So instead, he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. Lets his lips rest there for just a second longer than he should.
Then he stands.
And as he doesn't glance back before closing the door, you know—you're certain—he's already trying to forget you.
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want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @bamboobooshark ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098
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mysteryenchatress · 17 hours ago
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Y/n: *Crying* Tally said you don’t love me.
Sam: I- who’s Tally?
Y/n: The voice in my head.
Sam: Let me speak to the bitch.
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