topofmythighs

[topofmythighs]

✶ . ၄၃ . soft 'n sleepy — sam winchester

cw : gn!afab!reader, fluffy smut, consensual somnophilia, dry humping, finger sucking, praise, so super sweet sam, swearing, praise, aftercare, pet names (angel, honey, baby), unedited, 1.3K words. requested ! MDNI !!! 18+ ONLY

summary : it doesn't take you long to fall asleep after a long hunt. sam, however, can't seem to fall asleep or keep his hands dick to himself.

you're so pretty and soft every time you fall asleep in his arms. sam just loves it when you're sleepy, eyes bleary and fluttering closed, lips parting and little puffs of breath leaving your nose as he tucks you against his chest.

this hunt was draining, especially for you, and you fall asleep quickly now that it's over. sometimes, all he needs to follow right after you is your presence. having you close is so reassuring, comforting. but tonight, it’s not nightmares or guilt that he’s worried about disrupting his sleep. instead, it’s your closeness that keeps him awake.

your thighs against his, the little shift of your hips that pushes your ass right into his crotch. your soft, even breathing, and your limp fingers splayed across his wrist. he’s been aching for you, but hasn’t said a thing, knowing how tired you are.

and he’d feel guilty about the growing bulge in his pants as he thinks about your pretty chest under the loose fabric of your comfy shirt, the grey panties you fell asleep in, your bare thighs. but you’ve told him, most definitely more than once, that you like the idea of him getting off in bed with you while you’re asleep. you’d used the words “you can use me like that. it’s okay, i promise.” he replays the sound of your pretty voice saying it, sincere and flirty all at once, and he just gets harder. “i want it,” you’d said. you want him to use you like that.

so he really just can’t resist gently tugging you closer, pulling your ass flush against him, and wrapping his other arm around you to softly cup your chest over your shirt. he gives a roll of his hips into you and bites back a quiet groan. and with that, he’s a goner.

you had the sense to get a separate room from dean when arriving at the motel, so as sam gets needier and needier, slowly rocking his hips into you, he doesn’t bother silencing his quickening breath and soft moans. he only keeps his sounds quiet for your sake, though he’s sure you’ll wake eventually.

his hand slides down from your hips, under your shirt, past the sensitive skin of your lower belly, and right over your thinly clothed pussy. he can’t help it, he just loves to hold you there, his hand hot and heavy as he cups your pretty cunt. he groans softly at the feeling, pressing into you with both his hand and hips now.

you stir, just a bit, letting out a little huff of breath through your mouth that just makes him grind against your ass with more desperation. and when a sweet, gravelly moan leaves your lips, he can’t help but indulge himself. the hand that was so softly palming your chest moves upwards, fingertips brushing over your collarbone until he has a gentle grip on your chin. with your lips parted just enough, he’s able to push his finger past your teeth and into the warm wet of your mouth.

he feels your tongue instinctively push against the intrusion and you draw in a deep breath through your nose as you start to rouse. his other hand starts to rub soft circles against the fabric of your panties and despite how painfully hard and turned on he is, even the rocking of his hips against you is gentle, caring, and slow.

a quiet, throaty groan falls from his lips and right into your ear as he feels your lips wrap around his finger, followed by your sweet, sleepy suckling, signaling that you’ve woken and immediately accepted his filthy actions. with your mind still so foggy with sleep, you don’t seem to have much control over your body. your hips squirm tiredly, pushing back into him, and the way that you suck on his finger is unabashed and interrupts the stillness of the room with wet, sloppy sounds. in mere seconds, there’s saliva dripping down his fingers and past the corners of your mouth.

despite your wordless enthusiasm, and the way that his clothed dick pushing into the plush of your ass makes him practically whimper into your ear, sam pauses his desperate movements against you for just a moment.

“this okay, baby?” he whispers sweetly, gruffly because he’s holding back. one of your clumsy hands finds his wrist, wrapping around it in reassurance.

“mhmm,” you hum around his finger, too sleepy to do much else, but wanting him to know that this is more than okay.

“good,” he huffs out, his hips rolling against yours with more urgency now, voice thick with barely contained desperation. “you’re so good. so good for me, aren’t you, angel? so perfect and pretty, letting me– mmph, use ya while you’re still sleeping. always so– god, so fuckin’ good for me.”

his hand rubbing against your pussy, his fingertips pressing over your clit, are making you just as desperate as him, and the feeling of him pushing a second finger into your mouth only intensifies the pleasure. you suck on his fingers contentedly, and the both of you leak through your underwear enough for the other to feel it.

along with the quiet drip from the janky sink in the bathroom and rush of a shitty window air conditioning unit, the room fills with soft grunts and whines and moans, the rustle of overused blankets, sam’s praises, and your sweet suckling. sam cums first, soaking his boxers and the back of your panties. the sound of his broken moan in your ear and the insistence of his fingers over your covered clit sends you reeling in pleasure just moments after.

he lets you keep lapping at his fingers as you come down from it, knowing the feeling quiets your mind. he’s positive that you’d fall right back asleep with his fingers in your mouth if he didn’t insist on cleaning you up first. so even though it makes you whine tiredly, he slowly slips his fingers out and gently pulls you around to face him.

his reverent lips find your forehead first, then your own spit-slick mouth. he kisses you all chaste and lovely, as if to apologize for waking you, despite it being so good for you too. the kiss is enough to satisfy you after having his fingers pulled away from your eager mouth, so you snuggle up close to him, not resisting the pull of sleep as it tugs down your heavy eyelids.

“honey,” he murmurs into the skin of your forehead, “let me clean you up first, please. then you can sleep as long as you want, promise.” you just give him a sleepy hum, but he rolls with it, untangling himself from you. he strips himself of his dirtied boxers, quickly pulling on a new pair before he pulls the blankets away from your legs. 

he slips your own soaked underwear off, watching your face, barely lit from whatever light seeps in through the blinds of the window by the door. your eyes are barely open, just because you want to watch him, and a soft smile tugs at your lips from his ever present sweetness and care. his heart jumps at the sight, so he covers your bare legs back to avoid giving you goosebumps from the cold, and slips away for a moment. not before leaving a kiss to the skin of your calf.

just moments later, he crawls back into the bed with a warm, dampened washcloth to deal with all the stickiness and a spare shirt because he admittedly got the back of your sleep shirt wet too. he cleans the mess on your skin first, then urges you to sit up just a bit with gentle hands and a tone of voice he know you won’t be able to resist.

“arms up,” he mumbles as he pulls the shirt off for you, then replaces it with one of his own soft, worn t-shirts. then he tucks you back into his chest and under the blankets, fighting off the sleep that was previously evading him until he feels you fall asleep first. then he sleeps like a damn rock and is woken in the morning by your lips on his neck.

[topofmythighs]

drooling honey — sam winchester ꒦꒷ kinktober day one ; finger sucking

cw : gn!afab!reader, smut, dom-ish!sam, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart), little bit of teasing, making out, finger sucking obviously, swearing, clit play, 1.1K words. MDNI !!! 18+ ONLY.

sam’s hands all over you is something you’ll never say no to. one envelopes the nape of your neck as he kisses you hard, and the other curls around your waist, squeezing and soothing as his tongue invades the warmth of your mouth. you hum into the kiss, pleased with having his tongue there.

you wrap your lips around it, giving it a small suck and making sam moan and squeeze your waist harder before you push your lips back against his. you’re feeling mouthy tonight, and not in the talkative way.

that cheeky action spurs sam further. he kisses you rougher and pulls you closer with the big hand on the back of your neck. you feel his teeth grazing your bottom lip, nipping at your soft skin. his tongue flicks out of your mouth to soothe over the spot, and his lips find yours again like they always, always do. god, sam kisses likes he’s trying to eat you whole.

“missed you, baby,” he whispers gruffly against the side of your mouth, lips brushing lightly over your skin. and he can never get enough, so his tongue slips from your lips to your jaw, then to the sweet spot at your pulse point. he loves the reaction that gets out of you every time. you practically keen into him, chest pressing against his and mouth falling open as you simultaneously mourn the loss of something to fill it with and moan at the pleasure of his lips latched to the skin of your neck. he sucks with a fervor, an intent to mark, and then splays his tongue out flat, tasting your skin and sweat. and of course, he can’t help but lightly rake his teeth over the spot too, making you grunt softly and tangle a hand in his hair.

the little tug you give at the nape of his neck draws out a pretty moan, and he moves further down your neck, nipping and licking and sucking his way to your collarbone. sam’s hand at the back of your neck shifts, cupping your cheek with barely contained intensity. when he places his hand there, you’ll often grab it and grip it for dear life or bring it to rest on your neck or chest.

what he doesn’t expect to feel is your teeth on the tip of his thumb. you’re not biting, but you’re staking a claim. and as he looks up from his spot at your collarbone, you dip your head closer, and take his thumb all the way into your mouth, eyes closing in bliss.

“god,” he chokes out, soft breath tickling your bare skin. his eyes almost roll back in his head when he feels you swirl your tongue around his thumb, just like you would with the tip of his cock. but this is different. the warm wet of your mouth around his thumb is new. it’s dirty and endearing all at once. and because he doesn’t pull away or protest, you suck on it with a fervor that makes sam wonder how long you’ve been wanting to do this. he’s fucking obsessed.

your head is still tilted awkwardly, so with his thumb still in your mouth and the rest of his hand splayed over your cheek and jaw, he pushes your whole face down back into the pillow. he’s not rough, but he’s not so gentle either.

“you look so pretty like this, honey,” he coos, and he immediately knows he’ll never be able to get enough of this. “my baby’s been wanting to suck on my fingers, huh?” he asks, voice gruff and sort of teasing, but entirely pleased and in love.

“mhmm,” you hum around his thick thumb, nodding once and giving him the sort of look that you know makes him go crazy. the pads of his fingers dig lightly into the side of your neck and his jaw clenches as he debates whether to fuck you now or just watch you get all worked up as he makes you suck on his fingers. you’re already squirming underneath him, and he can hear the little huffs of breath that you push out from your nose. it's easy for him to tell that this turns you on like almost nothing else.

your whine when he pulls his thumb from your mouth is truly pathetic. he had planned to be nice and give you something better; his long pointer and middle fingers. his thumb is nice, but not nearly as filling.

but your whine means that you’re getting greedy, so instead of sweetly slipping his fingers past your lips and teeth, sam shoves them in. they hit the back of your throat with ease, and you gag a little, unprepared. then, of course, you moan lowly at the roughness of it all.

“quit whining,” sam scolds, “i’m tryna be nice to you, baby.” his two fingers are long and heavy on your tongue, perfect to suckle on and moan and drool around.

“‘m sorry,” you mumble, voice throaty and words a little distorted because of his fingers. he can feel the saliva pooling in your mouth, threatening to soon spill over and dribble down your chin unless he moves his fingers away from your throat and lets you swallow. of course, he wants to see you all dirty and pathetic for him, absolutely relishing in the feeling of your drool slipping between his fingers and down his palm and your chin. he almost wants to bend down and lick the drool from your face.

“you’re so good, drooling for me, honey,” he croons, enraptured by the view in front of him. he’s been so focused on you sucking on his fingers that he’s almost forgotten about all else for a moment. his other hand has been squeezing and massaging and pawing at your waist as he watches you, but the knowledge that his fingers in your mouth have you so squirmy gives him a better idea.

“i bet you’re so wet for me,” he murmurs, fingertips dipping past the waistline of your sweatpants and underwear to prod at your entrance. you shiver and softly whine at the feeling, more drool slipping past your lips. “jesus, sweetheart, you’re soaked,” he groans. “you fucking love my fingers in your mouth, don’t you? bet you get wet just thinking about them there, huh?”

he’s completely right. just the thought of this makes you desperate for him. and the actual thing? it's sending you reeling, it's quieting your head and like this you think you'd let him do anything to you. the tip of your tongue gently pushes against the sensitive patch of skin right between his fingers and sam holds back a groan. his other hand gathers some of your slick, agonizingly slow and soft when he presses the pads of his fingers to your clit. you gasp before clamping your lips back around his fingers and sucking harder, drinking up the pleasure of it all.

“god, you’re gonna kill me, sweetheart,” he pants, immediately pressing harder against your pretty nub to make you moan and drool and arch your back for him. “i’m gonna fuck you, baby,” he tells you. “and you’re gonna suck on my fingers the whole time and it’s gonna make you cum so hard, isn’t it?”

[topofmythighs]

breathe, baby — sam winchester

cw : gn!afab!reader, smut, no plot, fluff, brief mention of canon typical violence & demons at the beginning, making out, clothed grinding, fingering, swearing, pet names (baby, honey), praise, sam calls reader pretty/beautiful, light dom/sub dynamics in the later half (softdom!sam), allusions to oral (r!receiving) 4.1K words.

summary : after a close call on a hunt and a confession, you and sam have sweet, desperate sex. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI WITH MY NSFW CONTENT. YOU WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED !!!

this is the second time that you find yourself gasping in sam’s arms in one night. just two hours ago, it was an unpleasant sensation; he held you close as you tried to catch your breath after nearly being choked into unconsciousness by a demon. the part where he held you close was not the unpleasant part. despite the fact that you were having difficulties breathing, you very much so savored the feeling of having him close.

but this… this isn’t just pleasant, it’s pleasure itself. you decide that there’s nothing finer than sam winchester kissing you. he kisses you so hard you can barely breathe, so hungrily that his nose scrunches up and his lips swallow yours and when you part, you’re gasping for breath.

“sam,” you pant out, his big nose still pressed against your cheek and the feeling of his tongue in your mouth lingering so strongly it’s almost buzzing.

“yeah? you okay?” he asks, his own voice just as breathless as yours. the large hand he has resting on the side of your face glides along your cheekbone, fingertips soothing against your skin and wide palm brushing past your ear. his touch dips, lightly ghosting over the bruises on your neck, but it doesn’t hurt, not with how soft he is.

“i’m good,” you assure him, still catching your breath, mind still reeling over the fact that you’re straddling his lap on a motel room bed and his big arm is wrapped around your waist. “really good. just… just wanted to tell you that i’m never gonna let you stop kissing me,” you murmur. his face is so close that you feel the movement of his lips stretching into a smile. he parts further from you, still cupping your cheek. he wants to look at you.

“yeah?” he asks again, voice pleased and tinged with this roughness that isn’t just lust. with sam, it’s always so much more. he’s smiling and his eyes are dark in the dim light of the room and you press a sweet kiss to his grin because you can’t resist it. he kisses back, only a little because he’s busy smiling.

“yeah,” you whisper, pulling away again so he can see that you’re smiling too. that gets him going. really everything about you gets him going, but to have you on his lap, your chest pushing him back into the headboard and your soft smile as you say sweet, almost sappy things? that’s more than enough to drive him crazy.

he wants to be gentle. so, very gentle, but he can’t help himself when both of his hands grab at the sides of your face and pull you back to him. it’s not like he’s rough by any stretch, but there’s a certain desperation thrumming through him, transerfing from his firmly placed palms and almost trembling fingertips to the warm skin of your cheeks. 

the force with which he kisses you pushes you backwards, and one hand flies from its spot on his waist to steady yourself on the mattress behind you. the small sound that escapes your throat is muffled by his greedy mouth, and he wants to hear more. all of your sighs and sweet sounds, thusfar quiet and somewhat controlled, have been driving him truly crazy.

almost regretfully, he allows one hand to slide down from your face to your waist, his hold there strong as he hoists you further up into his lap. he’s hard underneath you, and you moan at the feeling. your mind goes blank for a moment, long enough for him to attach his lips to the spot where your jaw curves up to your ear. you sigh aloud at that too, and sam is feeling very satisfied with your reactions; your lips staying parted and your eyes glazing over when you finally feel a semblance of just how big he is.

he gives your sensitive skin a little suck and your hands fist at the fabric of his white undershirt. he feels your knuckles against his side through the thin cotton, your grip pulling the fabric taut around his back. that’s all the encouragement he needs to keep going.

his tongue is just as greedy as his soft lips as it swipes over the skin of your neck, savoring your taste. the sweat and grime of the hunt had been washed off in the shower not too long ago, but your skin is just a little salty from getting all worked up in his lap. sam is utterly obsessed with that taste, his tongue flattening against your pulse point when you tip your head back to give him better access. the loud breath that you let out is halfway to a moan, and both of you are thinking about his tongue being somewhere else.

you push your hips into him at that thought and sam lets out a low groan at the pressure. now you’re feeling greedy. there’s no way you’ll survive without hearing more of him. you grind into him again and he grips your hips tight, letting out another gruff sound.

“shit, baby,” he groans, hot breath fanning against the skin of your neck. you huff at the sound of his voice, gone all husky and desperate. “what do you– what do you want here? you okay to keep going?” sam sounds like the only thing he’s doing right now is holding back.

“yes,” you gasp out, “god, yes.” you slip your hands all the way down his sides until you can grip the hem of his shirt. “can– can i?”

sam’s chest heaves at the sound of your voice, your sweet question, and the way that you look right into his eyes with such a caring, pleading gaze. he realizes that you’re being careful with him, just like he is with you, and he just has to kiss you for it. you kiss back without question, fingers still gripping his shirt. when he pulls away, he has to keep himself from ripping the shirt off himself, but he wants to see and feel you do it yourself.

“‘course you can,” he says, voice hushed. the small wait is more than worth it when your eyes turn excited and your hands fumble to pull the fabric up his sides. your knuckles brush against his bare skin and once you reach his chest, he lifts his arms and pulls it the rest of the way off. his hands are back on your hips in seconds, and you’re too busy raking your gaze over the exposed skin of his torso to see him swallow thickly as he takes in the way you look at him.

you completely forget that you planned to rip off your own shirt too, and instead lean forward to kiss his collarbone with a heavy fervor. his head tilts back a little as he sighs and you grab at his waist, thumbs eager and brushing against his warm skin. you kiss and lick and suck and sam moans for you. his fingers slip under your shirt and you welcome the sensation, kissing him harder in response.

you dip your head lower, hands beginning to roam, up his muscled arms, over his belly, somehow soft and toned all at once. your mind and body are at war. you want to keep kissing, getting lower, dragging your hands up and over his chest. but you want his hands to move, to feel you all over. then you suppose that you could certainly get both. you part from him for just a moment to pull your shirt off, your hands brushing against his as they hold your waist tight.

his jaw clenches and his eyes turn hungry as he watches you intently. you waste no time in taking off your bra too, watching his face as you do. his tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he sees your bare chest rising up and down and he holds back a pleased groan.

he raises his hand up and you think he’s going to touch you there, but he reaches for your face and brushes his knuckles over your cheek bone.

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers. there’s a rasp to his voice, rough and sweet as he takes you in. your cheeks grow hot, but you bask in the praise anyway.

“and you’re fucking unreal, sam,” you say earnestly, voice equally as husky. he grunts and grabs at your sides, pulling you back into him and kissing your hard. his thumbs push a little into the plush of your breasts and his palms press into your ribs. you arch your back into him, pushing your chest against his and you feel his lip curl up against yours as a guttural sound forces its way out of his throat. a sigh of pleasure leaves your lips and you grind against him in earnest. his hips buck up into yours and the vague thought that he must be uncomfortable in those jeans floats through your mind.

he groans into your mouth and you just need him to touch you more. you pull away, chest heaving, hands roaming. on instinct, sam reaches further up, but at the last second he grips your shoulder instead.

“can i?” he chokes out. 

“yes,” you whine, nodding impatiently and sliding your hands up to his chest, asking for your own permission with your eyes. he catches the pause and look in your eyes and he feels all soft for you again. he leans in close, nuzzling his nose into your cheek and pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth.

his voice is still hoarse, but loving too. “you can touch me wherever you want, honey. promise.” you swallow a moan and reciprocate his sweetness with a kiss to his cheek.

“you too, sam,” you huff. “promise i’ll tell you if i need you to stop, but please… don’t stop.”

“okay,” he breathes, “okay, i won’t. i won’t, baby.” with that, he just paws at you, taking and grasping and groaning when you brush your thumbs over his nipples. “shit,” he gasps, his nose still digging into the soft skin of your cheek. he reciprocates, flicking over your hard nipples with his big thumbs, pinching a little and making you whine into his mouth.

it all feels so good, but all you can think about is the ache between your legs. his bulge under your clothed core has you wet, and you need more. you need his fingers.

you dip your head and his lips meet the crown of your head as you squeeze the flesh over his ribs and gasp for breath.

“oh, god. sam, please, i need… more, please,” you croak, dropping your head all the way down to his shoulder and pressing a messy, open mouthed kiss to the skin where his shoulder meets his neck.

“okay, okay. i can give you more,” he whispers fervently, grabbing your hips and lifting you up. you follow his lead, scrambling off of his lap. “go ‘head, lay down, honey,” he urges softly, eyes dark and hungry. you heed his instructions eagerly, settling into the pillows behind you as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, just to ease the pressure. they hang loose on his hips and his black boxers show off his bulge even better. 

you’re about to ask him to just take his jeans all the way off when he carefully grabs your legs from under your knees and drops them open, stunning you into silence. he settles between your legs and slips his hands under the waistband of your sweatpants. he starts to tug at them and he doesn’t have to ask for you to lift your hips for him to shimmy your pants down your ass and onto your thighs. you lift your knees to your chest so that he doesn’t have to move down to get them off.

“so good for me,” he murmurs once they’re fully off, his big hand running down your thigh while the other keeps your knees tucked up. you groan a little at his words, at the sensation, and squirm without thinking. “shhh,” he hushes gently, “‘s okay, ‘m gonna help you out, sweetheart. can i take these off?” he asks, big fingertips playing with the hem of your panties.

you nod your head quickly. “please, yes.” you don’t think you could have him quickly enough.

with your permission, sam doesn’t waste any time. there’s no need for you to lift your hips; he just pushes your knees further into your chest with one hand and slips the waistband down. his knuckles brush against the skin of your ass and you think about how big his whole hand would feel there. but you choose to focus on the look on his face when he pulls your panties all the way down and lets your legs fall open around him.

his pupils are blown out and lips curved up in awe as he runs his hands up your thighs. when you shudder at his touch he applies light pressure, pushing your legs into the bed and humming, all pleased with your reactions.

“please, sam,” you whine, voice breathy and begging as you try your hardest not to squirm so much. but having him over you, his eyes just staring at your bare cunt and big, big hands gripping your upper thighs after more than just months of pining for him… it’s not easy to stay still or quiet or be able to think, really.

sam is holding back from looping his hands under your thighs, pulling you to him and just shoving his face against your pussy. it’s wet and shiny for him and just begging for attention and he needs to taste you more than anything in the world. but he wants what you want and he wants to be soft and careful about it all, for you.

“how do you want it, baby?” he asks hoarsly. under your breath, you swear softly, unbelieving that you’re so lucky to have him.

“y-your fingers, sam, please,” you whine out, eyes glued to the way they look over your thighs, digging lightly into the flesh. they’re so long and thick and you can’t even imagine how much better than your own. sam can’t even be disappointed that you didn’t ask for his mouth; the way he can so clearly see how much you want his fingers, how much you’ve thought about them, gets him going perfectly well enough. and there’s nothing stopping him from eating you out right after he’s made you cum on his fingers. that sounds like heaven.

“okay, honey,” he whispers, rubbing his thumbs over the sensitive skin right where your thighs melt into your outer lips and your eyebrows knit together in desperation. he can’t help himself when he drifts just one hand over your heat, ghosting your skin and making you shiver and moan. his fingertips brush over your lower tummy and the heel of his palm picks up a little of your slick. “so pretty,” he murmurs. you toss your head to the side and into the pillow and breathe heavy.

“please, sam, please,” you gasp, trying not to buck your hips up into his hand, but twitching up anyway.

“alright, alright,” he exhales softly, pressing his hand all the way over you and reveling in the way your eyes squeeze shut and your hips cant up, trying to add more pressure. he lifts his other hand to your hip and presses you back into the mattress gently. just that makes you moan softly. really, sam just wants to keep looking, feeling, exploring. he wants to put both thumbs on the sides of your outer lips and pull them apart and look and feel you shiver against him and tease up and down your slit. 

but he really wants to make you feel good, so he shifts his hand and starts rubbing your clit with two fingers gently. you sigh out, long and loud and pleasured. your hips move up into him again as your hands fly up to grip the pillow by your head. sam groans at the sight.

he dips his fingers lower for a quick second, gathering some of your wetness and rubbing it into your clit. you cry out this time, one hand loosening its grip on the pillow in favor of fumbling for the hand that sam still has pressing your hips down. he obliges happily, holding your hand against your hip bone and goddamn smiling at you.

the pressure builds quickly and you moan and whine and squirm for him, all while he looks at you with awe and love and determination.

“you’ve been so polite for me,” he notes, pleased. “always saying please without me even asking you to.” his tone is hushed and a little gravely before he leans down to place a kiss to your lower stomach. you hum out a sweet moan. “and you sound so lovely, so pretty, honey,” he murmurs.

you grip his hand and the fabric of the pillow and push your face into your upper arm, whining out at his words.

“sa-sam, please, baby,” you groan, “m-more, i need more, i want your fingers in me, please!”

sam grunts at your words. “fuck, you’re so good. asking for exactly what you want, using your words for me, god. i’ll give it to you, ‘f course, i’ll give it to you.” he’s got to be fucking obsessed with you. he starts with one finger, gently prodding at your entrance before easing it in.

“shit…” you moan, stretching the word out and letting your voice break in pleasure. “s-so good,” you mumble, gripping his hand even tighter.

“yeah?” he whispers, pulling his finger out just a little before pushing it back through your folds.

“a-ah! yes,” you pant out. “f-fuck, sam, i–,” you cut yourself off with another moan when he sets a steady pace, just his one finger working wonders. but you’re growing just a little desperate, so worked up and so fucking in love with him that it’s driving you crazy. “m-more, please,” you whine.

“okay, i got you,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb as he gently pushes in another finger.

“gahh– god!” you gasp. “shit, sammy. so good, that’s so good.” you writhe under him as he pumps his long fingers into your begging cunt, making such a lewd, wet sound. “a-ah, fuck! right there, sam. oh my god, right there,” you babble, hips pushing into his hand. it’s not as if no one’s ever hit your sweet spot before, but fuck, it’s different when it’s sam. everything’s different, better, more intense, when it’s sam. 

“yeah? right there?” he presses a kiss to closest place he can reach, bending down and catching the skin of your thigh between his lips. he’s more than just pleased that he’s found your sweet spot so quickly, and as he continues pushing the soft pads of his fingertips right against your gummy walls, he soaks it up, memorizinng it all. 

the way your moans change, your voice jumping in pitch and getting louder, they way you buck up into his hand and the way that you clench around him. and your face, god he could look at it all day, maybe cum in his pants just from seeing you like this. all desperate and needy and blissed out; pupils blown, eyebrows knit together, and mouth hanging open half of the time to let your pretty sounds out. or he gets to watch you snap your jaw shut, bite and lick at your bottom lip, hold a groan back only for your lips to part again to pant and gasp and moan. it’s almost like you forget how to breathe through your nose, and it makes you sound all the more worked up.

as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, he squeezes love into your hand, making you think about his palm against yours and somehow making it all more intense. his thumb rubs the back of your hand soothingly, such a stark contrast to the strength and fervor with which he fucks his fingers into you. 

“breathe, baby,” he reminds you sweetly. god, it’s hard to comply as you watch the muscles of his arm tensing as he pleases you, the veins of his hands and arms popping out with the rush of his blood. but you take in a long, deep breath and let it out. it shudders and ends in a whine, but your muscles relax for a moment and you melt a little into the mattress for just a moment.

“h-haahh, sam, i’m– mm, i’m close!” you whine, thighs tensing up again. you lift your knees and push your feet into the mattress on either side of his thighs, trying hard not to close your legs as the pleasure becomes so intense that you can’t keep still at all.

“fuck, that’s good. you gonna cum for me?” he asks, getting eager. he can’t wait to see you tip over the edge, to feel it. but he doesn’t get greedy, just in case this is the perfect pace for you. 

you answer his prayers in the form of a dirty moan. “huh-harder, please!”

sam is more than happy to oblige. he already knows that he loves to be soft with you. he loves to have his fingers stuffed up your pussy while he holds your hand and kisses your thigh sweetly. he loves to speak to you all gentle and loving and dirty too. but he does love the way you react when harder means just a little rougher, deeper, and faster. your jaw falls all the way open and you can’t close it. your eyes shut tight, then fly right back open because you don’t want to miss the sight of his fingers pumping into you like this. you don’t want to miss the way his face looks as he does it.

and it makes you loud. you’re used to keeping yourself quiet when you take care of yourself, but that’s not an option this time around. not with sam.

and of course, it makes you cum. it sends you reeling, keening, and it pulls his name from your mouth with a force that you’ve never felt before. and sam swears he’s gonna make you cry out his name like that every fucking day, if you’ll let him.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, ahh– sam! feels s’good,” you slur. “sam…”

you clench around him so hard that it’s not necessarily easy to fuck you through it, but he does so good anyway. you shudder and pant and whine, and his name said again, all breathy and slurred is just as good as the first shout. and finally, you fall against the bed with a huff of breath, the sheets beneath you wet and messy.

you tense and whine when he pulls his fingers from you, and he’s quick to hush you gently.

“oh, you did so good, baby,” he murmurs, settling his still slick-covered hand on your hip and it makes you shiver just a little. he shuffles a bit closer to you, dropping his head down to kiss your sweet lips. you can barely kiss back when you’re so breathless, but you try, so he settles for sucking a little on your bottom lip and letting you sigh against his hot skin. your hand drops down from where it gripped the pillow, settling hungrily on his broad shoulder and running up and down the skin.

“felt so good,” you mumble against his lips, still blissed out. his smile interrupts the lazy kiss, and he feels greedy again. insatiable, really.

“will you let me make you feel good again?” he whispers, making sure you know that you can say no if it’s too much. it’s clear to him that you need to catch your breath, so he certainly won’t start right away. not until you ask him to.

“god, you’re too good to be true,” you say, wondering at him. “but i wanna make you feel good, too.”

he smiles wider, then kisses you again with a little more passion than the last. “trust me, honey. this’ll make me feel real good. i wanna taste you, so fucking bad, baby.”

you can’t help the groan that escapes your throat at his words. “yeah?” you ask breathlessly.

“uh-huh,” he nods, nose tickling the skin of your cheek. “you gonna let me make you cum on my tongue, honey?”

“fucking yes,” you pant, “yes, please, sam… make me cum on your tongue.” 

it doesn’t take long to learn; if you let him start, he’s never gonna be able to stop. he’s completely obsessed and in love with you, and you can expect his mouth on your pussy until the day he dies.

[topofmythighs]

₊˚⊹♡ letting you | sam winchester x reader

a/n - this might be the fastest i’ve ever written a fic??? it’s pure filth so that might be why but LMAO, i love love love the idea of soft dom sam sm he melts my brain, hopefully this is good!! getting back into writing after taking a break from being sick bc my brain wouldn’t work. special thanks to my friend who helped me brainstorm the delicious idea ilysm !! <3

cws - fem!reader, 1.6k, nsfw 18+, softdom!sam, sub!reader, cockwarming, masturbation, praise, kinda unedited

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The only thing she could hear was Sam’s soft breathing, and the soft tap tap tap of his laptop keys behind her.

If she paid close enough attention, she could hear the way his shirt rustled when he moved his arms, the soft fluttering of book pages being turned, but her focus wasn’t really attainable, it was slipping through her fingers with each excruciating moment that she was sat there.

Sam shifted in his seat out of a pure intention to get comfortable, and his cock nudged deeper inside of her wet heat, dragged a soft gasp from her lips, which just earned her a soft “shh, honey” against the shell of her ear.

It had been her fault that she was in that position in the first place. She’d been a little too needy with Sam when he was trying to research, and on her third attempt at trying to initiate a — much needed, mind you — make out, he’d grabbed her hips and tugged her into his lap facing him. His voice had been a little stern as he told her to pull his cock out, and the tone of his voice alone had her cunt clenching around nothing as she quickly did as she’d been asked. She knew that voice, she’d had it in her ear most nights, whispered against her throat, against the plush of her thighs. It meant he was in control.

Sam had sat back from the library's table for enough time for her to pull his cock out and pull aside her panties, sank down onto him with a soft moan, but before she could move he grabbed her hips tightly, kept her still.

“Don’t move,” he’d dipped his head down and kissed her throat, pulse fluttering beneath his lips. “Stay there while I finish up and I’ll take care of you after, hm?”

If she was feeling a bit more bratty she would’ve whined or complained or just moved anyways, but his voice in her ear and his hands on her hips had her head spinning, so she just nodded and tucked her head against his throat as he leaned over her to continue what he was doing, completely focused, as if he wasn’t buried deep inside her pussy at that moment.

That had been twenty minutes ago.

It was becoming torturous.

Sam was unfairly skilled at keeping composed. He was also unfairly skilled at winding her up. Those two went hand in hand, it seemed, because each second that passed just worked her up more and more. All she could focus on was the warmth of his body pressed to hers, his cock nestled deep inside of her, the lack of stimulation. When she’d came out to the library with her attempt at bothering him, she’d craved a genuine release, not this.

Her hips shifted slightly and she squeezed her eyes shut, huffed out a soft “Sammy” against his throat when that slight movement was enough for her pussy to throb around him.

“Stay still.” He murmured without as much of a look in her direction. She glanced up at him and his eyes were locked forwards, pupils shifting left to right as he read whatever was displayed on his laptop screen. Tap tap tap, more pages turned, more reading, rinse, repeat. He was killing her.

Barely a minute had passed before she made another soft sound against the warm skin of his throat, lips brushing his neck, “Baby please-”

“My hands are busy, sweetheart,” his voice was so nonchalant it drove her up the wall. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Her eyes squeezed shut as she huffed against his throat again. “Can you just take a break?”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I’m almost done, you’ll just have to wait,” he tsked, a hand briefly pet her hair, the touch so light it was like he was purposely depriving her of any stimulation. “If you’re that needy, you have two hands of your own, baby. Sort yourself out until I’m finished with this.”

She released a shuddered breath against his throat, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. It wasn’t the answer she’d wanted.

“Hey,” one of his hands came up to the side of her neck and he pressed his thumb against her jaw, tilted her head back until he could meet her eyes. “I told you I’d sort you out once I finished, didn’t I?”

She nodded, bit the inside of her cheek.

“So isn’t it nice of me that I’m letting you get yourself off in the meantime?”

Letting you. Her cunt throbbed again.

“Yeah.” She whispered.

Sam leaned down and kissed her, just a soft little peck, and somehow it just riled her up more. “I’ll be done soon. Go ahead and sort yourself out for me, sweetheart.”

He let go of her jaw and moved his arms to the table again, continued tapping at his laptop, and her eyes scrunched closed again as she tipped forward and rested her forehead against his throat. But she was so needy that she didn’t think twice about following his instructions. One hand stayed tucked at his waist, fingers curled into the soft material of his flannel, and her other reached between them and tucked under the material of her shirt, fingering at the waistband of her panties until she slipped beneath those too, and she was so fucking wet that she was undoubtedly making a mess of his jeans from just sitting there.

Her fingers dipped down, pressed against her clit, and she shuddered as the stimulation made her clench around his cock deliciously. She pressed her fingers forwards again, started to shamelessly rub herself, exhaled soft little moans and sighs against his throat.

Before she could do anything else Sam’s voice was in her ear again, “Quiet, sweetheart. You’re meant to be letting me work, don’t make me tell you to stop.”

Her jaw clenched as she exhaled shakily, eyes squeezed shut, and she huffed a breath against his throat as she took a moment to compose herself. Now that she’d started touching herself, it’d just be a torture to stop, so she just nodded against his throat with the intent to keep herself quiet.

It took a moment for her to settle on a pace. She was a bit too needy with it, her hand squished between their bodies, knuckles pressed to his hard muscles each time she shifted her hand, but eventually she settled into a pace that had her eyes rolled back and squeezed shut, the fingers of her other hand curled tightly into the material of his flannel.

She circled her clit with the pads of her fingers again and again, but it was the feeling inside of her every time her cunt clenched around his cock that made it hard for her to keep quiet. She was half tempted to bite down on his collar to shut herself up, but Sam seemed to be letting her get away with the slight gasps and whimpers that she couldn’t stop herself letting up.

It took an embarrassingly short time for her to get close — her forehead was pressed to his throat, hot breaths puffed out against his skin, trying not to shift her hips as she rubbed at her clit with a need that thrummed within her veins. Her jaw clenched and she held her breath, eyes squeezed shut tighter as she worked herself closer.

“Breathe,” Sam’s breath tickled her ear as he spoke softly. She had a tendency to hold her breath when she came sometimes if she was especially worked up — she didn’t even know Sam was paying attention. She took a shuddery breath, and he murmured a soft, “that’s it.”

It only took a few more circles on her clit before she came and she grit her teeth, huffed out a sharp breath through her nose as the feeling washed over her. Her cunt pulsed in pleasure, waves that kept her rubbing at her clit until it felt too much, and when she finally stopped she was breathing sharply against his neck. Her hand was a bit cramped, fingers wet, heartbeat drumming, but the release felt so nice after she’d been so worked up.

“Good girl,” Sam crooned, and she could’ve cum again at the tone of his voice. “Good girl. Did that help?”

She nodded against his throat, relaxed into his front.

“Yeah?” He asked. “Are you gonna keep still until I’m finished now?”

She nodded again.

“Baby,” she felt his hand smooth up her back until his fingers delicately tangled in her hair, only enough to pull her head back to look at him. “I wanna hear you say it.”

She blinked a few times up at him. He was so devastatingly handsome, it wasn’t fair. “I’ll keep still,” she mumbled, face feeling far too hot. “Promise.”

“Oh, you promise?” She didn’t miss the teasing edge to his words, the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

She nodded again. “Yeah, Sammy.”

“Good girl,” he praised once more, and was nice enough to give her a proper kiss that time. It still wasn’t what she craved — she didn’t feel his tongue in her mouth, he didn’t kiss her until she went dizzy — but it was nicer and kinder than a little peck. “Ten minutes and I’m all yours.”

She settled back into his chest as he went back to work, comfy to just rest against him in her post-orgasm euphoria, happy to wait the ten minutes until he was finished. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fucked her on the library table that week.

[topofmythighs]

Supernatural S1E13 Route 666

[topofmythighs]

same soul

sam winchester x gender neutral, plus size reader

rundown: reader has a bad mental health day but sammy is just oh so sweet

word count: 2.5k

their home is cold, even with the autumn heat and chunky knitted blanket thrown over them. the television is playing their favourite show, but the volume is only on five. on the side table beside the couch they’re curled up on, an iced coffee sits - a special order they get only on the days where they absolutely need it.

today was one of those days. it felt like everyone at work needed them, the phone was never hung up, and like their mental well-being drained with every minute that passed by. when they woke up this morning, they hated the way their clothes clung to their body and felt like their pants fit in the most unflattering way possible. today was a day where their bed begged them to crawl back in it, to cry and not feel anything, but their resilience won the battle.

they made themself look as good as they felt like they could look, pushed through the work day, and treated themself to whatever lunch, beverage, and guilty pleasure they craved. this carried through the rest of the evening, hence the special sad day coffee, their favourite show, and the only blanket in the house that still smelled like sam. there were a few of his hoodies that he purposely bought a few sizes bigger so they could comfortably fit into them that still smelled like him, but those were reserved for the nights where nothing helps but him.

fearing that tonight would be one of those nights, they sent a text to him, prefacing it with, “i don’t mean to be annoying,” and hoping that he was close enough to them to convince dean to drop him off for the night.

his reply is lightening fast, and one text turns to a spam just as quickly.

duh

i mean

no

not duh

not duh like ur being annoying

but duh like i will bribe dean w anything if it means i can see u

hopefully i can make tn better

i’ll text u when i’m omw there angel x

a small smile tickles its way onto their face. they never expect anything less than unconditional love from sam, but it’s hard for them to judge how others feel when their own emotions are winding together into a nasty, record breaking hurricane.

unsure of how long the tall, doe-eyed man would be, they leave their warm spot on the couch to get dressed from their work clothes into comfy sweatpants. they text sam quickly, too.

pls don’t show up in anything but relax clothes

u could show up in nothing and i’d also be happy but for tn the dress code is not nudity

just sweatpants and a hoodie pls :)

they fix their hair as best as they can, put on their comfort sweatpants, and slip on their fuzzy slippers. they scan themselves in the mirror, worried they look frumpy and even larger than they already are, but decided not to waste too much time on caring about their insecurities.

they know sam loves them. even if it weren’t for the amount of trust that goes into intimacy with the two, they know sam loves them from the constant reassurance he gives them. it’s hard to not over analyze their body in the mirror, even though they know it doesn’t hold them back from living a beautiful and fulfilling life. they find that their heather grey stanford sweatpants are fitting a little tighter around their thighs than normal and that their tummy is still bloated, but through years of pulling themself from such a negative mindset, they’ve learned nothing good comes from tugging at clothing. they can feel themself become sucked into the obsessive cycle of tearing apart every part of their body, but a text chime refocuses them.

literally two mins away, be there so soon

another smile dawns on their face, a blush accompanying it. it has been so long since they’ve seen sam, both jobs getting in the way of their time together. they run in and out of the bathroom, scrambling to get things together when their doorbell rings. their heart flutters like it always does. they hurry quickly to the door, opening it to find sam standing there in a similar pair of sweatpants and a large hoodie with a tote bag in hand, seemingly very full.

his heart flutters the same way theirs does. he smiles down at them, swiftly sliding into their home and hooking his bag up on the hooks near the outside light switch. he kicks off his unlaced chuck taylor’s and immediately places his hands on their face to kiss them deeply. he’s glad they managed to close the door past his stocky body, but he wouldn’t have been upset if someone saw him and his angel reuniting.

“i missed you,” he mumbles as he pulls away.

their hands are on his elbows as they whisper it back and looking into his glossy eyes. they smile together and kiss again quickly before sitting on the couch under the same chunky knitted blanket as before. he stretches his long legs out onto the ottoman, covering his legs with the blanket, then letting them rest their head on his lap. he plays with their hair, but notices the iced coffee on the side table.

“sad day coffee,” he says, squinting his eyes to read the order to double check. he looks down at them, furrowing his eyebrows. “what’s wrong angel?”

they sigh and grab his hand, bummed that they didn’t think to chug or chuck that. “just not feeling well,” they whisper. “been a bad day up there.” sam frowns, his bottom lip almost jutting out. he’s about to say something before they sit up and interrupt him. “it’s okay,” they say, turning to get up off the couch and grab things from the side table drawer. “i figured we could do some self care stuff together?”

sam notices how apprehensive they are, but also the glimmer in their eyes. he smiles softly. “i’ve never really done self care stuff before, but, uhm, yes, we can do that.”

they smile and kiss him quickly. “look,” they say, pulling a jarred face mask out of the drawer. “a face mask for us. and also nail stuff. thought it would be fun to paint our nails together?”

sam smiles again, taking their hand as they stand beside the couch. “angel, i’ll do whatever you want.”

they smile, kissing him again, then sitting down next to him with everything in their lap. they both adjust so that they’re sitting cross legged facing each other, still able to look into each other’s eyes and kiss.

“face mask first,” they mutter, still quite apprehensive about dragging their boyfriend into this.

sam smiles and watches fondly as their hands open the container, seeing the brown, grainy face mask and smelling the coffee scent from the jar. sam watches his partner intently, mentally tracing every inch of their sweet face. a few freckles here and there, a wrinkle beginning to set in on their forehead, a blemish on their cheek. he studies it all, falling more in love with the person who’d give him the world.

“wait,” they say, pulling sam out of his trance. “need to grab us headbands.”

sam smiles and nods, watching as they walk to their bathroom to pick some out. he chooses to continue the show that’s on the television, knowing it’ll calm them down. they return with two pink cat ear headbands, and sam laughs as they try and fit it over his head.

“your head is huge, sammy. don’t break my headband, please,” they giggle, finally adjusting it correctly on his head.

he smiles, dimples on display, and says, “of course, angel. i’ll try not to.”

they smile and kiss his soft lips quickly before dunking their fingers into the jarred face mask. they’re careful and slow as they bring their fingers to sam’s face, gently smearing on the coffee scented mask. sam holds the jar for them, asking them a bunch of questions about the brand, the mask, and really anything to try and distract his partner from what’s going on in their head. they notice this and kindly answer all of sam’s questions, grateful that he can read them so well.

“all done,” they say with another smile. “still very handsome.”

sam can feel a blush on his cheeks, but he’s grateful for the brown gunk on his face to hide it. “i can do it for you now,” he offers.

without a face mask on yet, sam can see the blush on their cheeks. he gently holds their cheek, letting them rest their head on his hand. they close their eyes and stay like that for a moment before picking their head back up and nodding, giving sam permission to rub the face mask onto their face.

“okay,” he says, slowly sticking his fingers into the goopy face mask. “i’ve never done this.”

they smile at him, eyes sparkling. “just do it gently.” they walk him through it all: “you picked up lots, ‘should cover my whole face. dot it on, y’know? yeah, like that. smear it around now. okay, perfect, i can feel it all over.”

they’re sure that theres some in their eyebrows and in their hairline, but sam smiles proudly about his application, and there’s no sense in bursting his bubble.

when they both wipe off their hands, they move onto nails. they spend time doing both their own nails and sam’s, letting him watch them shape the nails, fix the cuticles, and make sure everything is even. sam admits to them that he hasn’t had this done before, but that it feels nice.

sam watches as they giggle at him. “hush,” he mumbles. “what colour are you doing?“

they smile again, the feeling of a smile and the face mask uncommon. “i’m not sure. figured i’ll probably just choose whatever you want,” they shrug.

sam can feel his heart warm up, appreciating the little things that his angel does that make his world brighter.

“i was just thinking black,” he suggests, and they nod.

“black it is.”

they spend time meticulously painting their nails and sam’s, careful not to put the polish on too thick or on his skin.

sam begins admiring them again, but this time, he’s unable to help himself from speaking aloud.

“y’know,” he begins, gaining their attention. they look up at him, hands still holding onto his and the nail polish. “you’re awfully cute.”

they blush and look away from him, going back to painting his nails. “hush, sammy,” they say.

“it’s true,” he mentions. “you’re adorable, and i-“

“ugh, got it on your skin. stay still.”

sam rolls his eyes. “angel,” he says, their eyes meeting his again. he watches as their eyes glimmer with only the light of a few small lamps. “i love you.”

their eyes dart around his, flicking their attention all over his face. they smile, finding it sweet how sam wanted all of their attention on him while he said it. “i love you too, sammy.”

sam smiles, his dimples n pearly whites on display. “and, y’know, i’m sorry i don’t say it enough. i really do love you, angel, and i think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

their heart is beating so quickly, and their cheeks are flushed a bright pink. they can feel their whole body warm up, even though they’re feeling shivers from their head to their toes. they smile shyly at sam, feeling small under his watchful gaze - feeling whole again from his kind words.

“thank you, sammy,” they manage to mutter out after a few moments pass. “i needed that today.” they close the nail polish bottle and set it down on the ground. “be careful not to smudge them.” they wrap their arms around sam’s neck, sitting up on their knees and leaving a peck on his lips with an over dramatic “mwah”.

sam chuckles, carefully wrapping his arms around their waist to bring them into his lap. he’s careful not to ruin his nails, not letting his hands touch the back of their hoodie. he squeezes tight though, looking into their eyes and seeing the whole universe. he smiles at them again, analyzing them more and more the closer they get to him. with another short kiss, they offer to wipe their face masks off since their nails are dry.

there’s a comfortable silence between them as they lay on the couch together, faces fresh and nails manicured. sam takes their hand in his, interlocking their fingers and blushing at their matching nails.

they look at him fondly, needing to be as close to him as possible, but they take the hand holding and appreciate it just the same. they shift closer to him so their shoulders are touching, and sam lays his head on theirs.

“i feel so safe with you,” they whisper, holding his hand tighter.

sam kisses the top of their head, squeezing back. “good, that’s my job.”

they giggle and nuzzle their face into his arm, turning the rest of their body so they’re snuggled up next to him.

“angel, just come here,” he says, patting his lap.

they blush and accept the offer, putting each of their legs on either side of his and laying their head on his chest. they’re always apprehensive to rest their body on top of sam, but the way he wraps his arms around them and never complains about his legs getting restless eases their worries. they press small kisses onto his neck as a silent thank you, and he does the same back.

“i’m in love with you,” sam whispers, his large hands rubbing their back.

they lean back slowly, looking into his eyes, bracing their hands on his chest for support, and feeling his hands fall to their thighs. of all the times sam has said “i love you,” he’s never specified that his love for them ran deeper than baseline.

they smile as their eyes dart around his face. “i’m in love with you, sammy.”

he smiles and holds their face, kissing them deeply, and leaving small kisses all over their face. they giggle as sam does this, their hands playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

“you’re adorable,” he says, feeling his heart best out of his chest from their giggles.

they kiss him again, pressing a few kisses over his cheeks. “thank you for making me feel better today, sammy,” they say as their hands continue playing with his hair. “i’m in love with you.”

“i’ll never get sick of hearing you say that, angel.”

[topofmythighs]

First of all I want to say that I love your writing <3 I just saw a crossover edit of Dean with the song Older by Isabel LaRosa and I need something inspired by that song to read.

With smut or without smut, do as you feel it should be. thank you already :)

how kinky may i go

[topofmythighs]

Trouble

summery: you’re in heat and looking for trouble. and you find more then your bargained for in the company of the winchester brothers.

warnings: alpha!dean. alpha!sam. omega!reader. a/b/o dynamics. spanking. choking. face slapping. anal sex. rough sex. oral (giving and receiving). threesome. overstimulation. absolute nsfw filth.

words:  7.8k

notes: okay! so! this is my first ever time writing for the a/b/o trope AND my first time writing a threesome, so forgive any mistakes. this was also written as part of #lisas4.5kwritingchallenge… and for @ne-gans.

i do have to admit that i don’t think i hit the nail on the head with the song, which was ‘trouble by halsey’. i was inspired by it, no doubt about that and i’ve included the lyrics that spawned this monstrosity, but i don’t think that really comes across in this. *shrugs*

Keep reading

[topofmythighs]

Language of Lust

summary: a botched hunt means that you need a refresher in latin thankfully sam is there to help.

warnings: mentions of a panic attack. forced orgasm. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. anal sex. unprotected sex. squirting. creampie.

words: 3.2k

notes: so a while ago i saw a post about being dommed in another language. and honestly it unlocked a kink i never knew i had. that post spawned this idea. please ignore the latin translations if they aren’t correct as i used google to translate. :)

In the days following the botched demon hunt, the atmosphere within the base had become tense, and that meant the three of you had been at each other's throats. It hadn’t mattered how many times you’d apologized or promised to do better next time, how much pie you’d bought for Dean, or that you’d cooked Sam's favorite meal twice; nothing had fixed it.

In truth, you all needed some space.

You most of all.

That panic attack came out of nowhere and left you completely shaken. Even a week later, you were hyperfocused on the details of it—the way the walls of the room had shuddered and groaned as you spoke the ritual words, making dust and old cobwebs fall around you. When you thought about it, your heart would race so fast and slam against your breastbone so hard that you could have sworn it started to crack.

The ringing in your ears had been a deafening crescendo, and your eyes had been a waterfall of tears even when Sam had knelt in front of you and pulled you into his chest. You remembered the sound of his voice and the beating of his heart as he whispered to you soothingly until the tears finally stopped.

You still didn't remember much about what had actually happened, but you knew that the demon had gotten away, and you knew that Dean was pissed and Sam was disappointed. Neither of them needed to say it out loud.

So for the past few days, you've busied yourself with whatever task you could find to take your mind off the entire situation. Dean had very much done the same; you hadn’t seen him since this morning, when he’d come back to grab a few things and then left again.

You knew that Sam was somewhere in the base; you’d seen him in passing a few times, but the two of you hadn’t spoken more than a few words to each other.

Normally, that would have upset you. You hated fighting with the boys, but you were feeling better and in a relatively good mood today.

You sigh as you step into the kitchen after showering to wash the sweat and anxiety from your skin. Your hair is still damp, and you're dressed in one of Dean's old shirts and a tight pair of bicycle shorts. Sam entered soon after, dressed just as casually. He looked entirely undisturbed by the events of the past few days.

"Hey," you say in passing, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Hey yourself," he answers with a smile. For a moment, there was silence between you, but even that was short-lived. "You got the words wrong, you know," Sam says, leaning a hip against the door frame while he stares at you with arms crossed. He didn't sound angry, but it wasn't like he needed to say it; you knew you'd gotten them wrong.

Your head snaps around to stare at him, eyes narrowing at the fucking audacity he spoke with. Was that really what he wanted to say? "Yeah," you answer, your expression souring and your mouth in a tight-lipped scowl. "I figured that out from the silent treatment." You shrug your shoulders, trying not to let the hurt bleed into your voice as you turn away and busy yourself straightening a piece of paper on the table.

"Silent treatment?" He asks, pushing off the wall to come towards you. "No one is giving you the silent treatment."

"Sure you’re not," you scoff in response.

"We’re not."

"Then where is Dean? He’s running off doing his own thing because he’s pissed off at me for ruining the hunt, and it’s been two days since you said this much to me, Sam." You huff, clearly annoyed, as you cross your arms and glare at him. "No one learns from the silent treatment, Sam. Sure, I messed up. I know I did, and I’ll learn from that. The two of you don’t need to be assholes about it. But whatever, live and let live."

He walks briskly towards you, and you step back, not in fear but because the raw emotions in his eyes stun you—lust and dominance mingling beautifully in the depths of his iridescent orbs. Sam doesn't stop when you back away; instead, he walks until the small of your back is pressed against the edge of the table, and then he cages you between his arms, palms pressed flat against the table top.

"S - Sam?" You stutter when his lips pull into a smooth smirk. One of his hands grabs you by the hip, his fingertips biting into your skin just a little bit too much, and he pulls you against him, painting his body firmly against yours.

And then he’s kissing you, and you kiss him, and whatever anger was on your tongue dies.

Sam does not waste time and pushes his hand into your bicycle shorts, the material so tight that it fits you like a second skin. He wants desperately to rip it down your legs and feast on your pussy, but he shows remarkable restraint.

"If you wanted more lessons," he says between heated kisses that muffle your little gasps when he starts to rub his fingers against your clit. "You just needed to ask, sweetheart." His other hand grasps your jaw hard with his thumb and forefinger, pushing into your cheeks so that you were pouting when he kissed you again, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

You have the notion to argue with him but are silenced when he pushes a finger through your folds, which are slick with desire and anticipation. You grab at his arm when he prods your entrance, making your knees weak. "Sam, I—" you start but are silenced by the stare in his eyes.

"In Latin." 

"Sam?"

"In Latin." He says it again, this time with more force, his words accompanied by a second finger being pushed into your tight hole, drawing a wanton moan from your lips. You’re not sure where this behaviour is coming from. Sam had never so much as hinted at liking you, but in truth, you weren’t one to complain—not when he was knuckles deep in your cunt.

Your fingers curl tightly around the edge of the table, nails scratching at the underside, knuckles white under the pressure. You tilt your head back beneath his wandering mouth, enjoying the warmth of his body hovering over yours and how he pulls your shirt up to expose your tits.

Sam trails hot, wet kisses down your neck, his teeth scraping over your racing pulse. He sucks a hickey on your collarbone until a purple-blue bruise forms beneath his lips. The entire time he’s pumping his fingers into your cunt. Lewd, wet squelching fills the room because you’re that fucking wet.

He forces your legs further apart with his knee so that you're perched on the edge of the table, feet dangling in the air. His mouth moves to your chest, his lips closing around your nipple and sucking hard so that it pops from his mouth with an obscene sound and stands hard atop your tit. And then he takes the other one into his mouth, flicking and twirling his tongue so that you had to fist a hand in his hair.

He whispers something that you can’t make out. His mouth is like fire on your skin, leaving little flames of arousal licking through your veins. And then his fingers hit that spongy part of your pussy that has you hurtling towards a climax instead of slowly building to it.

You can’t help the way your nails dig into his shoulders when you cling to him when your thighs tremble. You cling to him when the storm comes out of nowhere, sweeping you away on a cloud of bliss that has you throwing your head back. He feels your walls tighten around his fingers, fresh waves of arousal against the tips, and then he’s kissing you again, rubbing his thumb in circles around your clit to keep the aftershocks of climax trembling through you.

His mouth is hot, stealing the air from your lungs until they are burning, but you don’t mind because you're still coming down from your high.

The next thing you know, it’s been an hour, and Sam has managed to make you cum three more times, twice with his fingers buried knuckle deep in your pussy, scissoring them to send you teetering over the edge of oblivion. And then once more, with his mouth on your pussy, lips encircling around your clit and sucking so hard that all you could do was repeat his name like a heaven’s prayer.

You’re done, but he wasn’t, not by a long shot.

Sam spread you out on your back, laying you out like a feast, your skin flushed and tits heaving with heavy breaths. You feel the rough pad of his thumb rubbing circles around your clit, which is slightly swollen and much too sensitive, and you claw at his wrist to push him away. Sam just smiles at you and pins both your wrists to the mattress with one of his large hands.

"It’s too much," you whine, trying to pull away and wiggle your hips away from his fingers, but you’re trapped. And you love it as much as you hate it. Sam growls softly between his teeth, his thumb prodding through your slick folds and getting nice and wet before drifting lower to push against your asshole. Your breath hitches at the sensation, and your mind spins as he pushes his thumb inside, giving a few shallow thrusts to tease you.

"Hic tam arctus es, infans," he says, his voice heavy with lust and muffled against your heaving tits. His breath is hot against your skin, his teeth scrape over your racing heartbeat, and his tongue leaves your skin inflamed and glistening. There is a knot twisting through your belly, slowly pulling tighter as his thumb pushes in and out of your tight hole.

"Ubi vis me?" His words are lost in the haze of euphoria he’s trapped you in, as meaningless as the world around you has become. You were a slave to the sensations he embodied, desperately moving your hips to take him deeper. "Hic?"

"Sam," you whine, your voice straining as you struggle in his grasp. You need him; you need to feel your pussy stretching around his big, hard cock. You need to feel him buried inside you, fucking you into oblivion.

"Hic?" He says it again, twisting his thumb in a way that has you throwing your head back and bucking your hips desperately. You can feel him smiling against your tit as he mouths it, his teeth tugging at your nipple until your back arches.

Your breath comes quicker, little pants, when he pulls his thumb from your clenching asshole, the feeling exquisite and leaving you desperate for more despite the live wires of overstimulation snaking through your veins. Sam lets go of your wrists long enough to pull one of your legs up, laying the back of your thigh up his torso so that your knee is bent over his shoulder, and then he shackles them again, trapping you beneath him.

You move restlessly when you feel his thumb against your asshole again, except this time it's not his thumb, and your eyes go wide, a whimper falling from your parted lips. You weren’t a virgin, not at all, but this would be the first time you’d ever taken something so big in your ass.

There was no mistaking that Sam Winchester was a behemoth of a man. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and strong—Hercules reborn. Everything about him is big. His hands, his feet, his thighs, and his cock. Everything about him is solid, cut from marble; he is beautiful. His cock makes your asshole sting beautifully as he pushes the mushroom head in.

Inch by glorious inch, he pushed forward, the prominent vein on the underside of his cock dragging along your stretched hole. "Jesus, tam stricta es," he breathes against your neck, but you still don’t understand. He’s slow, letting you get used to the feeling of his cock splitting you open with short, shallow thrusts, making you moan wantonly.

He loves the little things that you do, the simple things; the pleasure that sears through him as he stretches your tightest hole; the way you’re moaning like a whore, rocking your hips desperately against his, grinding against him. He starts moving with more urgency, drawing back so that only the head of his cock is fitted snugly inside, and then he’s thrusting back in with one stroke, hitting deep, leaving you throwing your head from side to side.

Your thighs quiver, and your toes curl. Sam fucks into you at a merciless pace, stretching you out and filling you completely, and the feeling of it is beyond words. It is beautiful and exquisite—pure euphoric bliss. It makes your pussy creamy with desire, so much so that your slick drips down your crack to mingle with his thrusts. That knot in your belly pulls tighter while your clit throbs and the muscles in your thighs ache. Your lungs burn because of how you’re panting, unable to catch your breath.

His fingers tighten around your wrists when you almost buck out of his grasp, the tips of them biting into your skin so that you can feel bruises starting to form, but you don’t care. You’re so close, so fucking close. His mouth is on your neck, his teeth scraping over your racing pulse, his lips leaving hickeys behind, and his tongue leaving your skin hot and wet.

You can feel the pressure building. Your pussy is clenching desperately around nothing, and you can feel your pulse beating in your toes, your clit, even in your fingertips—you’re that close to breaking. It feels so fucking good, but you’re fighting it because the pleasure is starting to border on pain and overstimulation.

And you’re lost in it, trapped as you are beneath him.

You crave that sweet release, the way fire will race through your blood, and the way your world will be scored with lightning. You need it as much as you need to breathe, but every part of you is alive. You can hear the blood rushing behind your ears; hear the beating of your heart as it slams into your breastbone; your eyes rolling back every time his hips snap forward, pushing every inch of him deep inside you.

"Venire," he growls against your neck, his breath literally burning against your sweat-slicked skin. You don’t know what he says, but the lust in his voice and the feral look in his eyes pull that coil painfully tight. You’re breaking—he’s breaking you. He’s got you on the verge of being fucked stupid, sobbing because of him and how good it feels, but he wants more from you.

"Sam! Sam, please, please," you plead, throwing your head from side to side, desperately trying to tug your hands free. You arch your back when he hits a spot that has dots decorating your vision, your tits thrusting into the air. You can’t figure out what you’re asking for. For him to stop or for him to keep going, it’s a blur.

Every movement of his hips has that knot pulling tighter—so tight that you might die. Your pussy is twitching, clenching around nothing, and you’re so wet that it’s shining on his skin every time he bottoms out.

"Venire," he says again, this time against your ear. Your pleasure-addled brain, so drugged with pleasurable pain and desperate for the release he’s forcing from you, only comprehends what he's saying when two of his fingers are shoved through your slick folds and into your clenching hole, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing harsh circles.

You struggle to close your thighs, tears streaming down your face, tits bouncing as he fucks you harder. His cock is stretching your ass beyond belief while his fingers ram into that spongy spot that has your vision decorated with stars. "I - I - I - can’t!" You manage to stutter out, hips bucking against his, your pussy clenching so tight around his fingers.

Except you can because that dam breaks with so much pressure that you scream. It feels like lightning has hit your body, sizzling through your veins until you’re thrashing beneath him, your thighs quivering violently, and your toes curled so much that it hurts.  Sam doesn’t stop, not even when your ass tightens around his cock to the point of pain. He just presses his thumb against your clit, circling, rubbing, and making you scream for him.

You feel a gush between your thighs, your pussy convulsing around his fingers as you cum in a fountain spray. Sam curls his fingers into your g-spot, scissors them, and pulls them from you to draw out as much cum as possible. If you had any brains left, you might have been embarrassed by the way you came, squirting so hard that it hits his abdomen and drips from the nest of curls at the base of his shaft, how it drenches your thighs and pools on the mattress beneath you.

But you’re gone, lost, and fucked dumb, only able to grunt as he keeps fucking you.

"Tam pulchra, infans, tam formosa, tam mihi dura venit." His own voice is trembling, and his balls draw closer to his body as the muscles in his abdomen tighten. He buries himself deep so that your ass is full and your pussy tingles. And you feel it as he grunts against your neck—feel the white-hot ribbons of cum filling your ass.

Sam keeps thrusting until you've milked him dry, and then he pulls out, drawing a pathetic, desperate moan from your lips because of the sensation. Having let go of your wrists, he sits back on his haunches. You lay there, your thighs still trembling, your mind lost. Sam watches the way your pretty pussy twitches and the way your ass puckers, and his sticky cum drips from it in fat globs.

"What do pretty girls say after being filled with cum?" He asks, his voice soft, his fingers pushing his cum back into your stretched-out ass so that you were whimpering and shaking again. You manage to peel your eyes open to stare at him, tears in them, your chest heaving as he shoves two long fingers into your asshole.

He speaks English this time so that you understand, but you are still slow to react, straining to close your thighs. He kisses you without warning, his tongue in your mouth, licking yours until you're clawing at his shoulders to keep him there, desperate for his kiss.

"Gratias tibi." You managed with a weary smile, and that was enough for him for the moment.

the translations ::

Hic tam arctus es, infans. - You’re so tight here, baby.

Ubi vis me? - Where do you want me?

Hic? - Here?

Hic? - Here?

Jesus, tam stricta es. - Jesus, you’re so tight.

Venire - Come/cum.

Venire - Come/cum.

Tam pulchra, infans, tam formosa, tam mihi dura venit. - So pretty, baby, so beautiful, coming so hard for me.

Gratias tibi - Thank you.

[topofmythighs]

demon dean smut 👀👀👀

speaking in tongue

demon!dean winchester x she/her reader

rundown: it's gettin' hawt in here!!! demon!dean fucks his gf and that's basically it

word count: 3k

warnings: where do we start? corruption!kink, sub x dom themes, oral, p in v pen., master!kink, cnc???, pain!kink, breeding!kink,

navigating the depths of her relationship with dean has always been difficult; he is the definition of closed off. working through typical relationship issues is easy for the two of them, but it’s the most profound secrets that dean keeps locked away even from sam that drive them apart. still, even with the disagreements and frequent pleas for dean to let her into his mind, she stays, because she promised she would.

it’s difficult, though, to not poke and prod at the mind of her lover as he shifts from mortal to demon.

dean’s more violent — hedonistic, even — but he’s almost more open than her true lover is. as the two of them sit across from each other at the bunker’s table, drinks in hand, she can’t help but purse her lips at the thought of asking more.

“go ahead, sweetheart,” dean smirks. 

she sighs as she stares into her drink, nervous to look up and see the green eyes of her lover replaced with depthless, soulless black ones. she wishes sam was here — she knows he would want to ask questions, too — but he had to flea the bunker with castiel. (he begrudgingly left her there, but with dean’s lack of plans to harm her, sam trusted that she would call him if something went wrong.) 

“it’s hard to not pick your brain,” she finally says, looking up slowly at dean.

he smirks, taking a swig of his drink. “i’m an open book.”

“yeah, but, he’s not.” she sighs, also taking a drink of her whiskey. “i just - i want to know what he thinks of me. i need to know. i know he loves me — we’ve been together for what feels like forever — but he’s just so shut-out and--“

“and don’t you think it’s time you know what he thinks of you, sweetheart?” dean asks, looking at her with a quizzed look so human that she almost believes she’s talking to dean. within an instant, he’s at her side, leaning against the table. his warm, calloused hand, the same as dean's, cups her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. she swallows thickly as her blood freezes up in her body. “you know he loves you, sweetheart. i’ve always been here — watching, waiting to come out and talk to you. to tell you what he thinks of you, how he feels about you.”

“do i want to know?” she whispers, feeling the grip on her jaw tighten. 

she’s scared and flustered. her mind is swirling, trying to wrap around itself that this is not dean in any other way than physically. he lets her jaw go with a quick jerk, crouching down in front of her. 

“he thinks about you all the time. touching you, fucking you,” he purrs. he watches the blush rise on her face, and just to be an asshole, he tacks on, “it’s gross, to be honest.”

“keep it in your pants,” she mutters, glaring at him and drinking down her whiskey. 

he spins her chair to face him. sitting down on his knees, he places his hands on hers, gripping hard. 

“ow,” she winces. “please,” she says, “please take your hands off of me.”

“ah, ah, ah. what you aren’t getting, sweetheart,” he says coldly, “is that even if you hate me, you love him.” he pushes himself up off of the ground and leans in close to her. “and right now, we are one.”

she stares into his eyes and shakily puts her hands on his cheeks as his hands grip tight on the arms of the chair. “baby,” she whispers, pleading. “if you can hear me, please know i’m here.”

“he knows, sweetheart,” dean whispers. “he can hear you. we can hear you.” dean looks into her eyes, smiling pridefully at her. 

she takes a deep breath in, looking one last time into his green eyes, before guiding his lips to hers. she kisses him deeply, trying to feel dean amidst the demon.

“not so fast,” dean says. his ultimate speed has their positions flipped within seconds. she sits on his lap, hands still on his cheeks. “if we’re doing this, and trust me, we want this,” he purrs, “you need to understand that you don’t control me.” she nods quickly, frightened to do anything he doesn’t want her to. “but just because i’m some cold-blooded killer that has it out for every mortal around him,” he chuckles, “doesn’t mean i’m gonna hurt you, sweetheart. i don't want no angels or hunters after me. i don’t have a death wish.”

“they couldn’t stop you anyway,” she whispers, feeling herself relax into his hands that are tight on her hips.

he smiles at her. “that’s my girl.” 

his hands find her hair quickly, pulling her down into a deep kiss. her arms wrap around his neck as her body slowly sinks down onto his. she’s still unsure if her heart has stopped beating, but she feels his hand find her lower back and gently press her body down more.

“you’re okay, sweetheart,” dean murmers, and she swears that was really him. her legs finally relax and settle themselves on either side of his thigh, feeling the denim-to-denim contact. her arms tighten around him, and her lips find his neck where she places small kisses up and down it. 

testing the waters, she grabs a fistful of dean’s hair at the back of his neck as she kisses it, and she feels his hips buck up to hers.

“god,” dean whispers. “don’t make me feel like some desperate teenager here, baby girl.”

she smiles as she continues to kiss. she gently grinds her hips down against his thigh, staying very close to his body and keeping her movements slow. “don’t mean to,” she whispers back. “just trying to enjoy all of you.”

"we've got time, baby," he purrs, his hands roaming her thighs. he tilts his head back, savouring the wet, open-mouthed kisses that she continues to leave all over his throat.

the grip his hands have on her thighs leaves a searing pain behind, so she pushes herself away from his delicious skin to peek and see if the denim of her jeans has been burned away. she grabs his shoulders to steady herself, wincing as he squeezes harder.

she stares at her thighs, expecting burning flesh to be escaping the denim, but there's nothing there.

"ow," she whines, eyes meeting the demon's soulless black ones.

he smirks at her, peeling his hands off her thighs. "feel that?"

"yeah, it hurts like hell," she mumbles.

her jaw is grabbed once again by the familiar calloused hand, and her mouth hangs open slightly.

"i didn't ask for the attitude, sweetheart," dean snarls. "all that pain? means your little boyfriend is here, feeling all of this and watching us like a pervert in a movie theatre."

his eyes melt green again, and the combination of a mention of a mortal dean mixed with his luscious green eyes allows her body to fall slack. she drops back down onto dean's thighs and drools, coating his hand in spit. he smiles slyly at her, pulling his hand off her face before leaving a hard, aggressive slap to her cheek. he places his thumb in her still-open mouth and forces her face back to his. her mouth instinctively closes around his thumb.

"my good girl," he says, a hand finding her waist.

she smiles around his thumb, her cheek wet from her own spit being slapped onto it. she very slowly leans forward until her head rests on dean's shoulder and gently grabs hold of dean's wrist. she rests against him for a moment, feeling the pulse of his cock against her core every time she sucks on his thumb (she swears her heartbeat matches the rhythm of his dick.). her body goes slack, recovering from the pain in her thighs and on her face.

if she was in any other state of mind, she would be the utmost apprehensive woman in the world. if dean truly is watching, she has no doubt in her mind that he will condemn her for feeling safe in the arms of a demon. but as she lays here with her head on his shoulder and his protective arm around her, she wonders if there's some form of loneliness that drives a demon's anarchy.

she sits up, tired of thinking. she gently pulls his thumb out of her mouth, then presses a kiss to his lips. her shakey fingers unbutton his red shirt, and she feels a surge of wetness overtake her when she feels how incredibly hot dean's skin is.

dean can't help but admire her. he watches her as she licks her lips, and he feels his shirt coming undone. her eyes are huge and innocent, glistening like she's experiencing this for the first time. he knows she's focusing too much on the heat of his skin, overthinking about how close dean of the subconscious is watching, so he guides her hands to the tent in his jeans.

"we want you, sweetheart," he purrs, his hand looming over hers.

"take me," she whispers, so quiet that even with exaggerated senses, dean can barely hear her.

his inhumane speed brings her up onto the table with her jeans pulled off her legs. he smirks at her soaked thong - once a baby pink turned a deep rose from the amount of wetness her body has made. he pulls her to the edge of the table, kneeling down on the floor to press kisses to her thighs.

her hands try to push his head away. "no, please! he hasn't - it's been too long! i don't want you there, i want him."

dean smiles up at her from in between her thighs. "he's always here, babygirl."

he pulls her underwear to the side, immediately licking up all of the slick that her warm pussy made. she releases a loud, pornstar moan, her hands finding dean's hair quickly. he kisses her pussy, and she swears she can hear him growling from in between her thighs. she moans louder, hoping his dick throbs harder.

it must have, because his mouth finds her clit and sucks hard, eliciting a long, loud whine from her spit-covered lips. her hands are tight in his hair, the tension in her body having nowhere to escape but her hands. dean continues to lick and suck at her clit, making her whine and moan like she's never been touched before.

"need, need you," she groans, feeling dean's fingers dig deep into her thighs.

he comes up for air, pressing kisses anywhere he can. she swears she feels her dean here with her.

"need me?" dean whispers, his eyes staring into hers. she moans at his deep voice, swearing it rumbles through her. her head tilts back, and, within mere seconds, her body bounces off of dean's soft, memory foam mattress. she hears her breath catch in her throat, to which he smirks. "too fast for you, sweetheart?"

she shakes her head quickly as her hands find his belt and button. "like it," she mutters, her thoughts flowing too quickly to focus on anything but touching dean's cock.

when it sits in the palm of her hand, hard and hot, she whines and feels a gush of wetness fall over the tops of her thighs. she immediately tries to position his cock against her entrance, but he grabs her wrist.

"one thing about us, sweetheart," dean says, "is nothing turns us on more than watching those angel eyes suck cock." he smirks at her as she nods feverishly.

he flips their positions, allowing himself to sit against the headboard while she lays in between his thighs. her ass is high in the air as she wraps her hand around his cock again, licking up his long, veiny cock. he grabs her hair immediately, allowing her brain to turn off and her mouth to be used.

"pretty girl," dean mumbles, moaning as he face fucks her. her eyes are glazed over when she looks up at him, and she moans around his cock as those beautiful, green eyes watch her suck his cock. he holds her head down, her nose just an inch away from his pelvis. she gags, and usually dean would let up, but this time, he holds her head still.

she moves her hands up his thighs, digging her nails into them, letting him know it's too much. he doesn't let up until she draws blood just one gag later.

"bitch," he mutters, as he pulls her up by her hair. he watches his doll catch her breath, a long line of spit keeping her mouth connected to his cock. her eyes are watery, and a few tears have slipped down her face. small traces of makeup are smeared over her face.

their eyes meet, and his black, soulless ones switch back to his crystal clear, serpentine green eyes. he immediately pulls her onto him, his large protective hands rubbing her back. "i'm sorry, angel," he mutters.

she pulls herself up, and her legs straddle his hips. she keeps herself close to him as he kisses her head. his kisses lead onto her face, eliciting a small, fucked-out smile from her.

"it's okay, master," she whispers, peeling his hands from her face and pressing kisses onto his wrists, desperate to feel the human in him. as she does, he rubs his cock over her wet pussy, making her whine and hide her face in his hand.

she grabs his hand and tangles their fingers together, pushing herself up onto her knees to sink down onto his cock. she watches her boyfriend's face fall into the expression it always does when she takes it all; his mouth open, eyes closed, and his chest tight with air.

"i'll always let you do whatever you want to me, sir," she says, rocking her hips back and forth on his dick.

he smacks her ass, and a deep burning sensation flows through her veins. she knows her dean is gone again, taken over by the demon yet again.

"good girl," he says, watching her intently. he watches exactly where their bodies connect.

whether it's the demon's energy coursing through her boyfriend's body or the fact that she hasn't been fucked this hard in a few months, she finds it hard to take all of dean's cock. still, she does her best, feeling electricity course through her pussy whenever she sinks down all the way. she knows from the burning that dean is there. trapped in his mind, but he's there.

knowing he's there brings her an odd source of comfort. she wants to put on a show for him, and she wants to stay on this demon's good side. she hopes that he can feel everything the way she is. she rocks her hips again, feeling dean's fat cock hit her g-spot. she lets out a very loud moan, squeezing dean's hand harder as she rides.

dean groans, too. "fuck, babygirl," he mutters. "so fucking wet."

she caresses his face with her free hand, stilling her hips. "sir?" she asks quietly.

he smirks at her shyness, bucking his hips up into her. "yes, sweetheart?"

she squeezes his hand again, and to her surprise, he squeezes back. her hands feel like she's touching a hot stove. she blushes, knowing dean's right there. "make me squirt?"

his eyes roll back as he groans, and his lightning speed flips them into doggy quickly. he places her head into the pillows and grabs her hips, fucking her soaking wet pussy hard and fast.

"sir, sir, fuck!" she screams, feeling her hips burn where his fingertips squeeze. "i need," she moans. "need your cum."

"fuck, sweetheart," dean says, slowing down his speed a bit. he chuckles. "your boyfriend in here does not want me to do that."

her laboured breathing makes her choke out, "since when did you care?"

he laughs again. "you're a dirty whore. i like it."

she smiles into the pillows and wiggles her ass, begging for him to fuck her harder. he finds his rhythm again, and within a moment, she's finding his wrist and squeezing hard as she cums around his cock.

"don't stop, sir, please, don't stop!" she can feel the tension in her tummy build up again, and she's excited to see how worked up her mortal body can make a demon.

he keeps his pace, slapping her ass and fucking her pussy deep.

"fuck, your pussy is so good, doll," he mutters. "you want a demon to cum in you?"

she nods her head yes. "want your babies," she whispers, instantly regretting her dirty words.

dean haults, flipping her onto her back. "gonna watch that pretty face."

she smiles, grabbing his face for a kiss. his hands fist the pillow around her head, and he fucks her wet, warm pussy until his cum spills into her. the feeling of his thick load inside her makes that rope in her tummy snap, and she's begging him to fuck her hard again. he does, and she squirts as he fucks his cum deeper into her.

she cries out loudly as her body winds down from its high. dean switches them so she can lay on his chest. he rubs her body all over, and if her mind wasn't gone, she would easily overthink why he's showing her any sort of care.

her leg loosely wraps around his hips, and her arms wrap around his chest. he presses kisses to her head, petting her hair.

"y'know," he starts. "takes a real strong man to fight off total possession." she nods dumbly against his chest, just happy to feel the vibrations of his voice from his chest in her ear. "your man's got a lot of willpower to get back to you, sweetheart."

she nods again, pulling herself onto him more. "thank you for not hurting me, dean."

he smiles at her, and his hands continue to rub all over her body. "i still don't have a death wish, babygirl."

[topofmythighs]

Guessing Game

Kinktober Prompt: Oral

Relationship: Sam Winchester/Reader/Dean Winchester (no Wincest, ew)

Content: EXPLICIT (18+ only), oral (f and m receiving), A LOT of degradation, praise, pussy slapping, p in v, DP, creampie (recreate responsibly), this is filthy so please be advised, ‘bitch’ is used in the dirty talk.

Summary: Can your body tell the difference between the brothers? If you’re correct, you’ll be rewarded. If not, well…

A/N: Writing this had me completely soaked i’m not gonna lie. ANYWAY HAVE FUN.

Darkness shrouds your vision under the blindfold, having been tied around your head by Dean moments before you were carefully stripped down, layer by layer, until you lay completely bare on his bed. He gives off hardly any sound to gauge your surroundings, as if a predator animal circling its prey.

Goosebumps run along your arms as cold air brushes by, but the presence stirring this air is different than Dean. You freeze where you lay, closing your legs and covering your aching tits with your shivering arms.

Despite your uncertainty, your exposed core is molten while you wait for Dean’s voice to ring out. Your body is rigid once more when someone else speaks.

“We’re gonna play a game.”

Sam’s voice is low and clear, and now he’s seen you stark naked, sprawling open on his brother’s bed, waiting for your boyfriend to please you. You reeled silently over where and when he could’ve made his way into the room. Had he been here the whole time, watching everything?

Familiar hands slide over your shielding arms and coax them apart, letting cool air kiss your pebbled nipples.

Dean whispers, “It’s okay, baby girl, you’re safe with Sammy. He ain’t gonna hurt you.”

Your head snaps to his voice, about to protest, but Dean’s mouth finds yours in earnest, groaning into your slacked mouth. You swallow his sounds nonetheless, hearing Sam’s voice echo around the room once again.

“Dean, want to explain what’s going on?”

Your boyfriend hums against your lips before he breaks away, mumbling against your cheek.

He mutters, “Poor Sammy’s been pretty lonely lately-“

You can sense Sam’s scowling, “No, I haven’t-“

“So I invited him to play, too.” Dean’s lips work across your slacked jaw, trailing up to the tender spot below your ear, making you squirm into his lean form.

The warmth and softness tells you that he did away with his own clothes, and all you could imagine was if Sam did the same.

“A… game?” you whisper.

A new hand wanders to your calf, radiating a deep warmth into your skin. It’s bigger than Dean’s, so you instantly know it’s Sam at your lower end.

Sam’s voice is closer to where you lay, you tense at his words, “Just one rule: guess who’s who.”

“Mhm,” Dean hums against your collarbone now, skirting his lips downward, “y’gotta guess if it’s me or Sammy makin’ you feel good, sweetheart.”

One of the brothers slides a hand to your chest, palming your tits with eagerly, since Dean was near your chest when he kissed you, surely it was him.

You nip at your bottom lip, stifling a moan as two fingers roll your nipple. “Dean.”

“Nope,” says Sam, landing a sharp slap on your tit, striking your perk nipple. You release your lower lip with a cry, panting softly at the twinge of pain.

“Wasn’t me, baby,” Dean mutters, right below your belly button, ever lowering himself, “if you get it wrong, you get punished. If you get it right, you get a reward.”

You nod dumbly at the instructions. The hand on your tits brushes your cheek, then travels between the valley of your breasts, and vanishes. The only sensation on your body is a pair of lips traveling toward your thighs, and what lies between them.

“Now, let’s see what we’ve got here,” says Dean, his voice sounds from between your thighs, closing in on your dripping slit.

Somehow, the mystery of this, and Sam’s surprising involvement sends fire roiling through your gut, and straight to your needy pussy. You shift your thighs together and clench your cunt onto nothing.

Dean’s fingers spread your slick folds, gently prying your thighs apart with a free hand. You relax your legs and flex your hips wide, baring yourself to him, and giving him free reign over the sight before him.

A low whistle sounds above your tummy, “Fuck, that’s a pretty pussy, Dean. Every night?”

“Just about,” Dean replies. Their voices mix too closely to differentiate who is who, sending you into a tizzy. “But that pussy’s mine whenever I want it.”

Sam comments, “Lucky guy. If I had a girl with a pussy like this, I’d be using it every night.”

Two fingers dip between your folds, using your slick to easily slide past your entrance, and curling perfectly inside. You gasp, giving your answer with a shaky exhale.

“Dean. It’s Dean.”

He purrs, “Attagirl - you’d know my fingers anywhere, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” Dean pumps his fingers one, two, three times before he removes them.

You whine at the empty feeling, rolling your hips to search for something, anything, to gain pressure from. Your clit throbs between your slick folds, aching with need.

A pair of hands pries your thighs open, holding you securely before a tongue slides into your slit. You release a soft moan and buck your hips onto the warmth. It’s familiar, but the hands aren’t the same.

“Dean?” you ask waveringly. A low hum sounds against your clit, sending the tremors through the aching bud.

Sam’s voice sounds from above Dean’s head, “Smart girl. I’m just holding you open for him, honey.”

You smile at your success, still letting yourself relish in the sensations flooding through your clit, happily lapped at by Dean. He swirls his tongue around your pearl, taking it between his teeth to make you hitch a breath. Dean smiles wickedly against your pussy.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Dean announces, breaking away from your sex. A moment passes before you hear him again. “Guess who.”

His voice is still near your thighs. You aren’t spread open again, but a tongue dips between your folds and finds your clit, teasing and light. It feels like Dean, with its soft lapping and swirling motions, mixed with thick stripes from your throbbing hole to your hardening clit.

A light pinch on your thigh instructs you to answer, “Dean.”

The mouth breaks away and is replaced with a harsh slap, directly on your clit. You cry out, loudly.

“Wrong,” growls Sam. His thumb runs a circle around your clit, pressing harshly enough to make you cry out. The mix of pain and pleasure is overwhelming enough to make you cry. Tears prick the back of your eyes, welling over and slipping past your cheeks, dampening the blindfold.

Dean’s voice startles you next to your ear. His thumb swipes along your cheekbone, collecting remnants of your tears.

“Aww, don’t cry, pretty girl,” he coos, “did Sammy hurt you?” The touches on your clit soften up. Sam’s fingers brush around further, wet with a new slickness, and he hums happily.

“I dunno, Dean. Little slut’s still getting wet,” Sam protests, dipping a finger past your tight entrance. Dean’s smile is palpable, and a new wickedness fills his tone.

His mouth brushes your ear, “You like that, baby? Y’like it when he slaps your little pussy? Never knew you were such a slut for the pain, sweetheart.”

“Whore for it, more like. Fuck. Practically dripping for me,” Sam’s fingers delve further and curl, longer than Dean’s and striking deeper than you’d ever felt. Your back arches with the motions, followed by soft, whimpering moans as Sam pumps his fingers through your fluttering walls.

Dean’s mouth finds your nipple, licking and biting with fervor. A free hand travels to the other and twists roughly, making you gasp, though another rush of heat heads to your pussy, clenching down on Sam’s fingers.

He hisses through gritted teeth, “Jesus, she’s tight.”

Humming sounds around your toyed nipple, “Mhm.” Dean’s words brush over your skin, “Perfect lil’ pussy, all for me.”

“Willing to share?” Sam asks, picking up his pace inside of you, dragging his fingers along your g-spot with each movement.

Dean snaps, “Don’t press your luck.”

Possessive bastard, you think, but moan sharply.

Sam’s tongue finds your clit once again, suckling at the small nub while his fingers stay busy. The combination unravels you quickly and your orgasm chases you in a matter of seconds.

Your walls clench around his fingers, and Sam mutters something under his breath. Dean slaps your tit this time.

“Can’t cum without permission, sweetheart,” he says. When you’re together it’s his rule that you always have his say-so, apparently it’s no different here.

You start to protest, but he stops you, “If you’re cumming at all, it’s with my permission, do you understand me?”

Sam nips at your clit to make you answer, “Y-yes, sir.”

You can feel Sam smiling on your pussy. He mumbles, “You trained her well, Dean.”

Dean pulls away from your chest, and his voice travels toward where Sam lies between your thighs. You assume it’s Dean slapping your upper thigh, close to where Sam’s head rests atop your cunt.

“Perfectly trained little bitch.”

Your orgasm is trailing behind, you gasp out, “Can I cum, sir?”

A beat passes.

“Cum.”

In an instant, you do. Your release blasts like a firework behind your eyes as you clench around Sam’s fingers, mewling softly while he pumps you through the shockwaves. Sam pulls himself from you, and you hear him shift to stand with his brother.

Dean pats your thigh, “Beautiful, isn’t she, Sammy?”

A low growl rumbles from Sam’s throat, “I want her, Dean. I want to feel her.”

The back-and-forth electrifies your nerves. You were Dean’s, but now that Sam was seemingly fighting him over you, there was no way of knowing what would be next.

“Not today, Sam.”

Not today?

Sam grunts in frustration, but concedes. You can hear him trek over to the head of the bed, close enough that you can feel a radiating heat from his, apparently, nude form. The bed dips just next to your head. You crane your neck toward him and are met with a warm, thick cock against your cheek.

You lay perfectly still, waiting.

Dean’s voice breaks the silence, “Order her, Sam. Poor thing gets too cock drunk to think. Tell her what to do.”

“Open,” Sam commands, lightly smacking your jaw. You open wide, sticking out your tongue as Dean had conditioned you to. “Tongue out and everything. She really is well-trained.”

The head of Dean’s cock eases through your folds, making you gasp around the head of Sam’s length. His voice is proud and sinister.

“Like I said - perfect. Little. Bitch.”

His cock presses into your entrance, the first substantial filling of the night. You whine around Sam’s dick, eagerly swirling your warm tongue around it and collecting salty precum along the way.

“And the best part of owning this pussy, Sam… is that I get to fill it. As often as I want.”

Relief showers over you at the mention. The thought of your boyfriend’s thick, hot cum spilling inside of you made you shiver with anticipation, tightening around his cock.

Dean lets out a low whistle, “Wish you could feel how tight she got just now. Sweet girl just loves it when I stuff her full, doesn’t she?”

You nod, bobbing your head along Sam’s considerable length, hollowing your cheeks to give him the same level of suction you do to his brother. Fuck, he was missing out on so, so much.

“Perfect mouth,” Sam comments, “you really got lucky, Dean.” Your boyfriend chuckles as his cock pushes deeper, stretching you out to fit him until he plunges in full hilt.

Sam shoves himself inward when you cry out, stuffing your mouth entirely full with his cock. The head crashes against the back of your throat, making you gag harshly around him. He grips your hair with both hands for leverage. The pace is brutal, and you’re silently thankful that Dean isn’t this ferocious with his own blowjobs.

“Gentle on her mouth, Sammy,” Dean scolds, his big-brother tone invading his words, “gotta take it slow.”

“Nah,” he dismisses, “I bet she can handle it.” Sam angles his hips and turns your head, twisting you to accommodate his girth. His cock plunges deeper into your throat from this angle, but to your surprise you do not gag this time. The thrusts are harsh but mildly painless.

Sam’s breathing grows more ragged by the second, while Dean happily sinks into your hungry cunt, filling you out with every glorious inch of his length.

“Turn her over,” Sam demands. Dean stills inside of you for a split second before he moves again. His hands find your hips and twist them around. Sam removes himself from your mouth to grant you some fresh air.

With their help, you’re on all fours between the boys. Dean at your back, Sam in the front, both with their cocks twitching at the slightest touch. Dean gives Sam a shit-eating grin as he slams his cock into you. Hard.

Sam springs into action when your mouth opens again in a cry. Your mouth is stuffed with his cock like before, but this angle is even better. You’re laid flatter for a perfect throat-fucking.

“There we go,” Sam murmurs, “that’s much better. Relax your throat, sweetheart.”

Against the new strain on your throat, you do as you’re instructed. Sam pushes himself further until your face is pressed into his abdomen.

Completely, and impossibly, full.

Dean marvels at Sam’s depth in your mouth, and gapes at the sight below him where his cock meets your cunt, stretched taught around his girth. Each moan and groan serves as more encouragement for Dean to pick up the pace.

His cock crashes through your constricting walls, striking against your cervix when he plunges deeper, deeper, and deeper into your aching cunt. Dean groans when you tighten around him, closing in on another orgasm. A free hand smacks your ass hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Cum,” Dean orders.

This one is harsher than the last, leaving you screaming around Sam’s cock, muffled and gagged by the thick head of him.

“Attagirl. You want Sammy to cum, too? Want him to fill you up?”

As much as you can muster, you nod. Sam smiles toward Dean - a wicked grin that says That’s right, I’m gonna fill your girl up before you can.

Dean glowers at his brother and thrusts faster, scowling the entire time as he urges his own orgasm to chase after him. With his competitive streak and the way you wrapped around him, he wasn’t far behind.

“Fuuuck,” groans Dean, his cock twitching inside your ravaged cunt.

Sam lets out a gasp as he shudders inside your mouth. His hips falter and he releases deep in your throat. Tears fall past your cheeks as you struggle for air, but your eyes roll back at the salty, savory taste of his cum.

And Dean isn’t far behind. He remains resilient when his orgasm reaches him - the thrusts don’t waver or lessen, but are more insistent. A groan rumbles from him as he finishes. The familiar warmth of his thick cum floods through your pussy, making you clench around his cock, eager to savor every last drop, as always.

“That’s it, babygirl, keep it inside.”

You tighten even when he leaves you, now left hollow and achey. Dean nods to Sam to pull out to let you breathe. The younger brother thumbs your bottom lip as you gasp.

You swallow Sam’s cum fully and thankfully, smiling blindly at him.

Dean lands a smack on your ass in congratulation, watching you clench your cunt into nothing, keeping his seed deep inside of you.

“Greedy girl. Don’t wanna waste any of it, do you?”

You shake your head with a smile, proud that you served them both to their desires.

Maybe not for Sam, but that was a different matter.

Dean leans forward to grab your blindfold, swiftly untying it and tossing it to the side. You slump to your side while you let your eyes adjust to the new light. The boys gently massage into your joints to ease them back to normal, though they’d surely be sore for hours, if not a day or two.

“You okay, baby?” Dean asks.

You pant softly to settle yourself, and smile, completely sated. Your words slur unintelligibly.

Sam laughs, “Fucked dumb, huh?”

“Just how she likes it.”

You pick what happens next! If you enjoyed, please help support my work by reblogging!

Happy Kinktober, you depraved lil’ things

[topofmythighs]

Keep Watching

Kinktober prompt: Reverse Cowgirl

Relationship: Sam Winchester x Reader

Content: Explicit sexual scenes, degradation, (lowkey) breeding kink, creampie (wrap it up), unprotected p in v, slight dom/sub vibes goin on.

Summary: It’s movie night, but you and Sam become focused on another matter. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to pose a challenge for you. Can you be good, and pay attention?

A/N: ….. have fun! 😃

“Babe, you wanted to watch a movie, and you’re not even looking at the TV,” Sam’s voice hushed. Your lips had found his throat, kissing along the tender skin and erupting reddish purple marks toward his ear.

His hair could cover them, you thought, still marking your claim across his skin.

You murmured into his neck, “But you’re so pretty. And, you’re right here.”

Sam rolled his eyes playfully before his hands gripped your waist when your tongue laid a thick stripe up the length of his throat. He stifled a groan as he tried his best to focus on the television.

“Should we turn the TV off, then? We can watch it after,” he offered, his hands wandering toward the hem of your shirt.

“No, I wanna watch it,” you whined, “It’s movie night, Sammy.”

Sam planted a kiss on your temple, smiling at the sweet nickname you’d started using for him. Aside from Dean, not many people called him that name, but Sam adored it - the way his name rolled over your tongue in a tone as sweet as sugar.

“Part of movie night, unfortunately, includes paying attention.”

Alone in the room together, you’d ditched any sort of undergarments, as well as your pants. Sam only sported a pair of boxer shorts, neglecting a t-shirt like usual. Sam would’ve been able to hold himself together if the situation were different, if you had covered your ass and tempting thighs, their supple warmth begging to be held.

You sat up and threw a leg over his hips, straddling his lap while the TV still blared in the background. Sam’s hands naturally found your thighs, his thumbs idly drawing circles on your skin. Underneath you, you could feel him growing hard against your core.

“Is that all it took?” you teased, grinding gently against his growing erection. Sam looked you over coolly and arched an eyebrow at you.

“You’re the one with no underwear. Plus, this-,” he patted your thigh, “is not helping much.”

You smiled proudly at him, beaming ear to ear at the success you’d achieved by ruffling his feathers a bit. The downside of your teasing was that you’d gotten turned on in the process, now with a warm slickness that seeped into the fabric of Sam’s boxers. Sam let out a low groan at the added warmth, a direct sign of what this had done to you.

Lifting your shirt over your head, you now laid completely bare for him, your full breasts now on display. Sam trailed a finger from each hand up your thighs and over your tummy, right up to your tits, pinching each nipple with a careful hand.

Sam rolled your nipples between his rough fingers, drawing a soft moan from you, breathing out his name like a prayer, a precious word you’d only whisper like this if he could hear it. You ground your aching sex against his clothed cock, nestling his shaft between your folds.

“Sam… I need,” you mewled, “more. Please.”

He happily obliged your request, realizing that he was also too eager to wait. A thought sparked in his mind - one that would keep you attentive while also keeping it challenging, simply to test your endurance.

Sam sat up and nestled his head in the crook of your neck, while his hands moved to your ass, kneading the soft flesh around your hips.

“Turn around, we’re still gonna watch the movie,” ordered Sam, his warm breath skirting across your skin.

You obeyed him, pulling your leg off of his lap and shifting around to face the TV. To your side, Sam hooked his fingers in the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down and off of his legs. His thick cock sprang free from the confines and slapped heavily against his belly.

“C’mon,” he patted his lap, where his cock twitched eagerly, inviting you over, “we’re gonna try something.”

Throwing your leg back over his hips, Sam held you above his length, keeping you on your knees while he positioned himself. His grip on your hip tightened as he urged you down, slowly lowering until his cock pressed against your drenched folds. With another push the head of his cock eased into you, every glorious inch of him following behind.

It didn’t matter how many times you’d done this - you adjusted to Sam’s size like it was the very first time. To him, you were always beautifully tight and warm, accommodating his thick cock perfectly.

He loved the sweet noises you made when he entered you. He could feel the way you tensed and flexed around his shaft, urging your pussy to stretch wider. It usually took a few minutes to adjust if you hadn’t engaged in foreplay, like tonight.

Normally he’d be loosening you up with his fingers, singing your praises as you came onto each digit. He would alternate his pace with those curling fingers, leaving you hollowed out, excavated by his eager hands.

It wouldn’t be enough for Sam until his fingers were completely soaked, when the pads of his fingers wrinkled and you were muttering dumbly under his spell.

But now he was filling you - his sheer girth splitting you open served as an immediate reminder. Your soft walls moved around him, pulling him in further until he head of his cock pushed against your cervix. Sam hissed through gritted teeth when he bottomed out full hilt into you.

Ahead of you, the TV played the movie you’d chosen, but its plot escaped you. All thought you tried to follow disappeared into an empty space in the back of your mind. This fucking movie didn’t matter, all that mattered was him. Sam Winchester.

Sam Winchester, who was actively bucking his hips into yours, nestling his cock into your tight cunt.

Sam Winchester, who playfully urged you to ‘watch the TV’ and ‘pay attention’.

“You’re a good girl, you can do it.”

You breathed shakily as he moved, jutting his hips up to strike deeper. You were impossibly full of him, with that wonderful girth stretching out your wet hole.

“I… I can’t. Sammy, I can’t… hah… keep going on like this,” you pleaded softly.

“Already? No, I’m sure you can do it, honey,” Sam replied, landing a slap to your ass. You let out a yelp, ignored by Sam.

After all, you wanted to have movie night.

He tugged your hips back, and pushed them forward, shooting that entrancing pleasure through every inch he filled. You shuddered around him and took his guided motions as your own. The motions were minute and gentle, grinding yourself onto his length and feeling the friction of your clit against his base.

Sam’s casual demeanor both shocked and frustrated you. Usually he would be falling apart as easily as you did, but this time he remained cool.

“Keep paying attention,” Sam reiterated, pulling you onto him harder this time. You cried out, but kept your pace, starting to bounce yourself along his length.

“Attagirl, just like that. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

His hands lifted you higher and pulled you down harsher than before.

“Bounce.”

With shaky breaths you obliged him, straining your shaky thighs to bounce on Sam’s cock. He hummed, satisfied, at the display in front of him. His thick cock stretching you wide at the thicker middle of his shaft, and the way your eager pussy swallowed him into your warm walls, flexing around him as you fought off your first orgasm.

“Sammy… I’m gonna… fuck… I’m gonna-“

“I know, honey, go on. Cum for me,” he urged, bucking into you once again, “cum for me, sweet girl.”

The tightness in your belly released and left you crying out against your bottom lip, caught between your teeth in a feeble attempt to quiet yourself. Your pussy clamped onto Sam’s cock in a vice grip as you rode it out, with Sam’s help as your thighs grew numb.

You moaned his name as you threw your head back, trying to gain any bit of fresh air. Anything to refresh you now that you were taken over.

“You paying attention to the movie?” Sam inquired, his hand snaking up your torso to one supple breast. He pawed harshly at your tit, cradling it in one hand and toying with your hardened nipple.

Of course you weren’t. With the way his cock was filling you, there was no way in hell you could think about anything else.

Incoherent slurring followed his question. A deeper stroke had you fumbling over your words - asking him to go easy, for him to slow down so you could follow his command.

Sam’s tone lowered, “Fucked dumb, huh? Can’t even form a sentence - too busy being filled up to care.”

He leaned back against the headboard to free his other hand, quickly finding your clit with pinpoint accuracy. Slow circles moved your swollen clit under his finger. His other fingers could feel the beautiful stretch his cock had on your cunt, nice and taught around his girth.

“You just can’t get enough, can you? Gotta have a big cock splitting that pussy wide, and you need it now.”

You reached toward your sex, fingers mixing with his own to feel it. You felt the base of his cock meeting your slick entrance, and the way his size warped your tight cunt around him. Gasping, you eagerly pinned your eyes on the TV, but didn’t dare move your hand.

Of course he felt big inside of you, but you never truly felt what he did to your insides. How thick he really was, and the way your pussy was naturally tight, but loved being used by him anyway.

“Such an needy little slut for my cock,” the degradation rolled through you like thunder, making you twitch around him as you came for a second time.

“And you like that, don’t you? You like being a perfect little slut, with a perfect little pussy for me to stuff with my cock.”

With his encouragement you bounced harder, the smacking of your hips together now filling the room, drowning out the sound of the TV. If anyone were to hear, they’d surely know exactly what was going on. Sam’s fingers rolled over your sensitive nipple and needy clit, bringing out the sweetest moans from your perfect lips.

“Keep moaning like that and you’ll make me finish, sweetheart. Be careful.”

It wasn’t something you would stay patient for. You picked up your pace while tightening your cunt around his cock, burying it deep inside, pounding his length into your sore hole. You ground your hips at the base, nestling the head of Sam’s dick against your cervix, your warmth enveloping him completely.

His abdomen tightened as his pleasure rose, threatening to spill himself inside you if you kept crying out like that. Sam knew it would be futile to fight it - him finishing in you was your favorite part, and you’d play dirty to get what you wanted.

You wanted to be claimed, to be owned, to be of service to Sam’s cock and whatever part he needed of your body. You were fully his to ruin and use.

“Please, Sammy… please fill me up. I need it,” you whimpered, falling back against his chest, stretching out your torso to feel the hollowness replaced with his cock.

“Sam, Sam, Sam,” like a hymn, begging for him to breed your aching hole.

Sam’s body tightened as he came, shooting his release through your walls, that now fluttered around him with your third orgasm. He loved when you came simultaneously - to him, it kept you closer.

After a moment, his cock twitched in your pussy, still spilling his load, coating your cunt in thick, warm cum. The warmth spread downward, leaking out of the seam between your ravaged pussy and his throbbing cock.

You bounced yourself along his length again, “Fuck it into me. I need it deeper.”

“Want it all for yourself? Such a greedy slut,” he growled, hissing as you clenched around his sensitive tip. He loved the idea of you keeping his cum deep inside of yourself, it was a perfect way to show you who you belonged to.

Sam Winchester, who stretched your pussy to fit his thick cock.

Sam Winchester, who owned every inch of your body.

Sam Winchester, who stuffed you to the brim with his cum, and fucked it deeper into your needy hole.

You sang out each other’s names as you both came down from your high, pathetically pushing your hips back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until your sore pussy couldn’t take it anymore. Sam eased you off of his cock and kept you on your knees, bending you forward.

He watched with great satisfaction as the cum leaked from your sweet, abused little pussy, right onto his drained cock. Those hot ropes of his seed flowed over your clit, covering your precious pearl of nerves with a thin layer of white. Nicely bred, perfectly used.

“You look so pretty like this,” he commented, trailing a finger through your soaked slit, collecting his cum on two fingers and easing them into you. You cried softly as his fingers worked through your stretched walls, pushing his cum further inside.

“Keep it in there. Don’t waste it.”

You tightened dutifully around his fingers as he pulled them from you, licking what remained on each digit. His cum, yours, it didn’t matter to him - it all mixed together in a rich blend of your juices that had him wanting more.

He helped you sit back upright and off of his lap, leaning on his side to check in.

“How you doin’, sweetheart?” His voice drawled lazily after his high, slurring through the words.

You nodded, panting, “I’m okay. How was I?”

His hand snaked to the back of your neck and tugged you to his lips, planting a chaste kiss before he spoke.

“You were amazing. You always are, sweetheart.”

The next few minutes were focused on cleanup and settling back under the covers. Sam offered you both some cozy pajamas, and now you sat comfortably under the blankets in the soft fabric. You nestled your head against his chest, watching the TV, at long last, with full attention.

“Can we rewind it? I missed the first part.”

Sam laughed, reaching for the remote.

Hiiiii everyone, i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it! if you did, reblog and share this story with others!

as always, thank you for your support, i love you

-bunny

[topofmythighs]

♥︎ boulevard of broken dreams ♥︎

SUMMARY : sharing a room with sam when dean has the sex drive that he has usually means he has to be quiet when he’s doing the dirty with his girl.

PAIRING : dean winchester x reader

CHARACTERS : sam winchester

WARNINGS : smut, nsfw (18+), fluff, alcohol, sub!dean, exhibitionism tbh, ✨saliva✨

WORD COUNT : 2.9k

A/N : song title by green day. I believe in subby dean and I love him! so, here’s the first dean fic I wanna share. I really appreciate y’all :’) Xx

Dean grunted softly as he moved his hand up and down his cock. He smirked beside him at his sleeping girlfriend, and then looked ahead at the silhouette of his hand beneath the sheets moving up and down, outlined by the street light shining through the thin curtains. The sound of the sheets ruffling was loud in the nighttime, almost muffling the sound of his cock, and he carefully shoved the sheets off himself while keeping Y/N blanketed.

He closed his eyes, bit his lip and started to picture Y/N sucking his dick. He pictured her awake comfortably naked between his legs with her hot mouth wrapped around him. It was more exciting knowing that she was sleeping next to him, that he was imagining her pleasuring him the way he knew she could if she were awake. He was so turned on, but he was mostly teasing himself, being quiet enough that Sam wouldn’t wake up, but loud enough so that Y/N would.

Sam had gotten drunk with Dean, but unlike Dean, he blacked out as soon as his overgrown body hit the bed. That meant nothing was waking Sam up anytime soon, not a monster, not an apocalypse, not even the way Dean panted trying to get himself off. He didn’t mind edging himself a bit longer, he was willing to wait as long as he had to before she woke up and gave him what he needed. And he needed her real bad, so he wasn’t gonna stop, but he wasn’t gonna let himself finish either.

After the hunt, a successful case of killing a pack of werewolves in the woods, Dean decided to take Y/N and Sam out for drinks. The thing was, when Dean got drunk, he became more clingy than usual and he would start acting cute. He remembered bits and pieces of what he did when he was drunk. From getting her into his lap while he talked to Sam and some random hunter in a green, leathery booth. To the way he clung to her the whole time, when he’d drunkenly gone and played pool with a bunch of idiot college students trying and successfully hustling them.

He remembered constantly kissing her cheek, holding her soft face in his hands to make out with her when he dragged her around the bar finding different things to do with himself. And he remembered flirting with her. He remembered that cute little smile on her face and the even more adorable blush that painted her cheeks when he gave her his famous smoulder.

He remembered that she’d stopped drinking after just one drink. She was taking care of him and Sam. She’d driven them back to the motel and she babied him into bed despite the fact that he was trying to seduce her. He blushed at the memory, the way he kissed her neck and groped her beautiful body, making it hard for her to take his clothes off so he could sleep comfortably.

He moaned softly at a particular twist around his cock, and he changed his fantasy, preferring to imagine all the dirty things Y/N would say to him as she fucked him. He could faintly remember how her walls felt around him, her sweaty body pressed against his, setting his skin on fire with her touch. Her name fell from his lips, spilled into the quiet room, and she shifted beside him at last. He whispered her name again and again, praying that she would wake up and make him cum herself.

He slowed the pace in which he jerked himself off when she nuzzled into his bicep, her soft lips still against his tense muscle. She mumbled something against his skin, but could only hear the sleep in her voice and was unable to decipher a word she said. He gazed down at her and squinted his eyes to make out her face, but he couldn’t see much as she was shadowed by his body. He only felt her hand move down his chest, warm and soft against his body. He gasped, squirmed when she brushed her fingertips against his tummy, and squeezed his eyes shut when she wrapped her small hand over his.

“You’re so loud,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

“Y/N,” he moaned, letting her fingers replace his. She stroked him lazily, felt her little smirk against his arm when he moved his hips up in search of more friction. “Please,” he whined quietly. He turned his whole body to face her so she changed her hand’s position, squeezing his cock torturously and rubbing her thumb over the leaking slit of his cockhead. “I can’t,” he gasped, pressing his forehead against hers.

She let go of his cock and pressed her lips firmly against his, “I’ve got you, baby,” she murmured against his mouth. His fingers dug into her waist, pulling her closer to him. “What do you want? Tell me, Dean,” she teased, moving her lips along his jaw and neck, thrilled to hear his heavy breaths.

“You,” he whispered, “I need you, need to be inside you right now,” he moaned. He pawed at her hips and started to tug her underwear down impatiently. She giggled, helped him get them off her, and laughed when he hung them over the lamp. He smiled softly at the sound and moved on top of her, settling between her opened legs before he leaned down to kiss her.

He slid his cock through her wet folds, felt her wiggle her hips, and gasp against his mouth when he pressed the head of his cock against her clit. “I thought you were too needy,” she whined playfully. He felt her pout against his lips and pulled away slightly attempting to make her face out in the darkness, only the yellow glow from outside illuminated her. He chuckled at her and grasped her hip, pinning her down to the mattress as he panted against her parted lips.

“You’re such a little tease,” he laughed softly, smirking at her when he sat back on his legs, lifting her legs onto his thighs.

He used the streetlight to guide his cock to her slick entrance, his plump lips parting with satisfaction at the sight of her glistening cunt stretching around his cockhead. He slid into her smoothly and he stared—utterly enchanted, as she took every inch of him until he was buried fully in her warmth.

“Like that?” He asked smugly and she rolled her eyes, her hands flexing on her thighs, squirming from how big he was. Dean smirked down at her when he noticed, swivelling his hips tortuously just to feel the clench of her walls around him. He collected saliva in his mouth and watched it drip down to her pussy, right on her folds.

He licked his lips to clear the lingering spit on his swollen lips and brought his thumb to her clit to smear his saliva over the sensitive nerve. He gently moved his hips against her, turned on at the sight of the black shirt she wore haphazardly scrunched around her waist from the angle he had her positioned in.

He leaned over her, placed his arm by her head, and dropped loving kisses along her jaw. Her heavy breaths mingled with his, the only sound bouncing off the cheap walls besides the gentle sound of the bedsprings. He used various methods to massage her clit until she was squirming beneath him again. Her walls continued to pulse around him, wet, warm, and driving him crazy. “I’m not gonna last,” he whispered shyly against her shoulder.

She pushed up against him gently with her hips, her hands held onto his triceps, so he moved back a little to check on her. “Everything okay?” He asked softly, distractedly slowing down the circles on her clit to study her flushed face.

When she nodded, he kissed her forehead, and started to pull out slightly to thrust back into her again, but he didn’t expect her to shove him back slightly, forcing his cock to slip out of her all the way.

He looked at her with confusion, “wha-“

He caught himself with his arms behind him, stared at her as his shirt she wore slipped down and covered her naked body again. She climbed onto his lap again, “you’re so pretty,” she murmured. Holding his chin with her fingers, she swiped her thumb across his bottom lip and his breath hitched. His cheeks started to warm up at the tingling that followed her finger along his lip and he whined again. “Shh, stop being so loud,” she told him quietly, and leaned forward to silence him with a heated kiss.

He slid his hands between her legs, shoving two fingers into her without a care, pumping them in and out, moaning into her mouth at the squelch his fingers and her cunt made around him. She sucked on his bottom lip and he groaned, grinding his palm against her clit and adding a third finger, feeling like he could cum just from the wetness that started to cover his knuckles and wrist.

“I love it when you get needy,” she panted, moving his hand away by grabbing his wrist. She lifted his wet fingers to her lips and licked her arousal off them, keeping her eyes on his as his lips parted in surprise. “Are you gonna cum?” She teased, placing his hands on her hips under the shirt she wore.

“Stop teasing me,” he whispered, swallowing some saliva to moisten his dry throat. She laughed quietly and he bit his lip, becoming flustered with her confidence. “Please,” he begged softly, lowering her hips to press against his so her wet pussy could brush against his throbbing cock.

She let out a faint hum, letting him fuck himself with both amusement and fascination. He closed his eyes despite wanting to feel demeaned by the look on her face and got lost in the tiny fragments of pleasure he was feeling. He pressed his forehead against her shoulder, focusing on teasing her soaked entrance with the soft head of his cock until she gave in and shifted to let him slip inside her.

“Fuck… yes,” he moaned, gripping her hips tightly as her warmth and her slick coated his cock. She ground her hips against his, squeezing his cock until he whined and bucked his hips up into her. “Fuck, don’t do that,” he hissed.

She chuckled mischievously, then shushed him as she slowly rolled her hips against his, his mouth parting. A broken moan left his lips, but it was immediately muffled by him when he bit her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist. He thrusted his hips upwards, slowly moving in and out of her until she was pushing him onto his back and riding him.

He screwed his eyes shut, biting his lip so hard he thought he’d taste his blood soon. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips, bruising her soft skin with his desperate touch. His eyes fluttered open to watch her lift herself up and down with her lips parted and swollen. He felt like cumming just at the sight of her and she must have expected a loud moan to fall from his now open mouth because she put her hand over it just as a groan rumbled in his chest, deep and hot.

Her walls spasmed around him, a quiet curse falling from her lips. She looked over at Sam cautiously, picking up the pace and keeping her hand over his mouth. He felt even more turned on, noting the way she shifted her hips to add friction to her clit. He whined against her hand, desperately meeting her thrusts as the bed springs started to squeak louder.

He didn’t even care if Sam woke up anymore, he tugged her hips forward, wanting her full attention on him. He felt his cock swell and twitch inside her, so close to spilling hot inside her. She was driving him crazy, especially with the way her walls squeezed his cock so tight as if it would shut her up.

It drove him over the edge and he came inside her almost involuntarily. Another moan from him heated her palm. She gasped from the unexpectedness of it, leaning over him, her soft hair tickling his skin. She moaned loudly into the bed, pressed her face into the sheets by his head as she trembled and came on his cock. Her warm walls quivered and dripped around him, her hips moving on his cock slower as she rode out her orgasm, his sweaty skin sticking to hers.

She turned her face slightly, her warm breath tickling his ear. He lifted his hand up to move her hair behind her ear and she removed her hand from his mouth, resting it over his thumping heart. They both laid there for a few moments, unmoving, panting in an attempt to catch their breaths and clear their hazy minds. He lovingly pressed kisses along her cheek, temple, and the tip of her ear, rubbing his hand up and down her sides under her shirt.

“That was so hot,” he said after a while, sounding breathless and hoarse. She laughed tiredly and she started to lift the top of her body off him, only to lean forward and kiss him deeply. He was smiling, his mouth readily open for her. His tongue slipped into her minty mouth, soft tongues rolling over each other languidly.

Both of them smiled into the kiss and he wrapped his arm around her waist, moving her onto her back and slipping out of her, careless about the mess he was making between their bodies. She hummed softly against his mouth, a little laugh making her part from his lips. He continued to admire her, fixing her sex hair as best as he could before he dropped a kiss on her forehead, trailing his lips down to her warm cheeks and neck.

“We have a long drive tomorrow, D,” she murmured, her nails gently scratching his scalp, “you should sleep now, I’ll take care of the mess.” He moaned quietly, agreeing with her, pressing his face into her neck and kissed the spot his lips were closest to.

“Mkay,” he mumbled, moving up off her. He looked around for his boxers and felt the bed shift as she made her way to the restroom to clean herself up. He grabbed her underwear off the lamp and grabbed his phone, using the lowest light level to check if they’d stained the sheets.

Despite having told him she’d take care of it, he didn’t listen. He shoved the clean sheets away, feeling both shy and prideful at the mess, and pulled the dirty covers off to hide them as best as he could and replaced them as quickly as he could with clean ones he always made sure to ask for beforehand when they got a room.

He moved out of bed when he was done, waddling to the bathroom with her underwear in his hand. He smiled fondly when he found her washing her hands with the water hardly turned on so it wouldn’t be loud and wake Sam up.

“Your underthings,” he said with a grin, holding them up for her. She turned to look at him and chuckled, drying her hands with a towel to take her underwear from him. “Allow me, my love,” he said dramatically, stopping her from taking them. She gave him a look but played along.

He squatted down in front of her and lifted her leg with his hand around her ankle. She held onto his shoulder for balance, allowing him to help her into her underwear with an amused and affectionate smile on her face that glowed in her eyes.

“Thanks, Dean,” she murmured. She pecked his lips when he stood back up to her face, after having pulled the soft cotton up her legs and comfortably in place around her hips. He squeezed her ass playfully, drawing a laugh from her.

She followed him with her eyes when he moved towards the sink to wash his hands with soap and warm water. She waited for him patiently, leaning against the doorway and playing with the hem of the black t-shirt. She admired him this time, took in the messy and soft spikes of his hair, his teeth pulling at his plump lip. He was gorgeous and he looked over at her, his eyes warm and loving as he took her in too.

“Let’s go to bed, my little flower.” Dean dried his hands with the same towel she used and reached out for her hand, seeing her roll her eyes and snort at the new pet-name he was trying out for her. “You know you like all the names I give you,” he smirked down at her, turning the lights off after her to make their way back to bed.

“I do,” she admitted after a while, biting her lip to stop her happy smile. He could see her thanks to the bright lights outside and the drawn curtains. A delightful feeling filled his stomach and made him feel warm all over. He took her face in his hands, giving her the type of kiss people would give each other if they were saying hello after missing each other their whole lives.

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© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DEANBRAINROTWRITINGS

do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or republish my work anywhere else. this is literally my work from when I was a child up to now.

[topofmythighs]

Research

Kinktober Prompt: Thigh riding

Relationship: Sam Winchester x Reader

Content: Explicit sexual content, dry humping, degradation, some praise, (basically) PWP, a LOT of dirty talk about breeding and other filthy things.

Summary: Sam is busy when you need him most, and you’ll take whatever you can to get satisfied.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in fanfics, you guys! Work has been busy, and I’ve been working on a few pieces at the same time! Another fic will be out very soon, and it’ll be far longer, and far dirtier. Keep an eye out for ‘Guessing Game’.

Tap, tap, tap. Clack clack clack.

Sam’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he researched, with you waiting at his side as he flitted through document after document, barely saying a word. He had been at this for hours, and despite your flirtations and soft touches to his neck and shoulders, Sam didn’t stray away from his work.

But something between your legs couldn’t be ignored. A deep well of aching desire made its home in your tummy, unshakable and persistent. You needed Sam, and you needed him now.

“Saaaam,” you sing-song to him, leaning down toward his ear. You take his earlobe between your teeth and nibble softly at the delicate skin. Sam shifts in his seat and releases a long-held sigh.

Sam tilts hit head to meet your eyes, and smiles, “What is it, sweetheart?”

His tone is soft and suggestive, but he doesn’t give into your kisses like he normally does. You lean into his strong form, settling against him as you bat your lashes at him, pleading.

“Could you take a break for a few minutes?”

To your disdain, Sam shakes his head at your questions. “Baby, I gotta get this research done before Dean gets back tonight. I promise you, we’ll have plenty of time to have fun later, ‘kay?”

You whine, kissing his neck softly. You brought a leg between both of his and settle onto his leg.

“But pleeeease,” you grip at his shoulders, arching yourself into his body. Sam looks to you, a rich affection in his eyes, scanning over you as you writhed on him.

Sam frees a hand to find your hip, pulling you along his leg. You take it in stride and start to flow your hips on his thigh. The friction between your clothes presses against your clit harshly enough for you to cry out, but the slickness between your folds softens the blows.

It takes all of Sam’s willpower to not slam his laptop shut and change the task at hand. But this research did need to be done by the end of the night for this case, there was very little wiggle room. Until that’s done, you would have to take care of these needs on your own.

“Honey-“ Sam starts, “you can’t just wait a few hours?”

You bury your face in his chest and shake it to tell him ‘no’, because you can hardly wait long enough. And if you stop now, all you’ll be able to think about is the lack of pleasure in those boring hours.

Sam’s laugh reverberates through his chest against your ears. He holds you steady with one hand regardless of his research, spreading those beautifully sculpted fingers across the top of your ass.

You buck your hips on his leg eagerly, a pitiful movement to bring some relieving pleasure to your pussy. Sam groans softly - he can feel the warmth radiating between your thighs, pressing into his thigh as you keep softly below him.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers, his breath rushing over the shell of your ear, “Get yourself off, sweetheart. That’s it…”

His voice makes you whine louder this time, and your movements quicken. Against the side of your knee you can feel Sam’s pants strain against a growing erection. You bring a hand to his cock, palming him through his jeans while you continue to buck your hips.

“Sammy, I need more,” you sigh.

Sam replies, “I guess you’ll have to be patient, then.”

Your groan makes him smile with satisfaction - teasing you like this, making you work for it, making you beg, was Sam’s favorite part. He listens carefully to your desperate whimpers, each one making sitting still rather difficult. His cock presses against his pants to the edge of discomfort, straining to break free and sink into your right pussy. It would be so easy, too, with Dean gone.

“Still at it, hm? Grind that little pussy against my leg, get yourself off, dirty girl.”

His words rattle through you, sending another wave of heat to your soaked pussy, clenching desperately around nothing. Hell, even a finger-

Sam’s words still you, then keep you going at a harsher pace. “Such a needy little slut - you just can’t wait, can you?”

You let out a breathy whine against the crook of his neck, still stroking Sam’s cock across his jeans. The pressure against your clit isn’t much to work with, but it’s something. You continue to grind until your hips protested with soreness, but you persisted.

“Just imagine,” he breathes, “my cock buried inside, stretching you out, stuffing you nice and full. Fuck, and the way I would fill you up ‘til you’re leaking. You’d be sore for days.”

A gasp leaves you as you push yourself closer to the edge, each push of your hips sends a dull, radiating pleasure through your sex. Your slick gives you an advantage to quicken your pace, furiously grinding into your boyfriend’s thigh.

“I’d watch my cum spilling out of you, but I’d fuck it right back inside, make you keep it in there for me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby?”

You cry into his shoulder as you continue. His words were torturous and unrelenting, egging you on to the point of tears. This denial of anything substantial hardly ever happened, and it felt pathetic to resort to this to get yourself off, but it had been driving Sam wild this whole time.

He, in fact, hadn’t been focused on his research. You hadn’t looked up to see the distraction in his eyes, skittering between your eager humping and the laptop screen.

“And you would do such a good job, you’d take every inch while I stretch your pussy out. I wouldn’t stop until you begged me to, I would keep fucking you until I was drained, and you were filled to the brim with cum.” His words kept your mind busy on the image, as fresh as a morning dream.

The tightness in your belly eventually peaked - at home, this would’ve been over in a matter of seconds, with Sam’s masterful fingers and thick cock. Your first orgasm was an uphill battle of getting the right rhythm and pressure.

Sam kept muttering lowly into your ear, shaping his words into a blueprint for you to follow.

“I would make you watch it. You’d see what I see, how this big, thick cock spreads your little pussy wide open. And you wouldn’t say anything about it, either, ‘cause you’re a depraved little slut.”

He delivers a harsh slap to your ass, making you yelp, “Before I finish, I would pull out. Your little pussy would be gaping with how hard I fucked you, and I’d jack myself off until I came, right into that stretched-out cunt.”

You breathe shakily into his neck as your climax builds, slow and aching and deliciously filthy, with how easily his words encourage you.

“I’d wait until you weren’t expecting more, moaning and shaking, and I would fuck it right back into you again.”

The band in your tummy snapped, finally letting your orgasm wash over you with blinding ecstasy. Sam didn’t stop talking you through your high, and the shockwaves that followed.

Sam spoke lowly, “A perfect little cumslut, ready to take anything I give you. You’d be so messy - my cum would leak out of your pussy and into your panties.”

Another slap to your ass, another help from you as you kept grinding, “Bet you wouldn’t have a problem with it, either, would you? You’d get to keep my cum all to yourself - greedy slut.”

It’s all meant for him. Your body, every square inch. Your soul, down to its deepest core. It was all for Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam.

“Sam,” you sigh, threading your fingers through his hair. It was all you could muster amidst the flurry of thoughts that went through you, taking you over, body and soul.

He hums happily as you breathe his name, like a plea for more, an invitation to do all of those dirty things he whispered into your ear, each comment filthier than the last.

You pant as you come down from your high, now slightly bucking your hips. “You’re just mean.”

Sam laughs heartily, and it shudders through his chest into yours, releasing warmth through your body. His hand reaches up to your hair, carding his fingers gently through and massaging your scalp.

“Yet, you’d be begging for those exact things.”

Sitting up fully, you glare at him with a full pout. There was no objection, because it was true. Sam notices a shift of the glint in your eyes as you look between him and the laptop, still on the same documents as when you started. He still hasn’t gotten any work done, after all.

“You still have to wait,” Sam warned, patting your ass softly. You prod his chest harshly, making him grimace with discomfort. “If you’re not patient, it’s not gonna be any better for you.”

You quickly stop and look at him again, sighing dramatically. He cocks an eyebrow and a smile creeps onto his lips.

“I know, life is so hard,” he counters sarcastically.

Hi! I’m sorry this was a little shorter than the others, but this method helps limit my burnout. This way, I can commit myself fully to the bigger fanfics, and make them as good as possible for you guys!

ilysm

-Bunny

[topofmythighs]

Sam Winchester In Every Episode: 1x16 Shadow

[topofmythighs]

listen, i know no one cares, but i’d like to update some stuff that’s happened in my life that’s held me back from feeling like i have any free time :p

- broke up w my long term partner (like … of 7 years)

- am now with someone new who makes me feel so incredibly good

- graduated ??? now i’m a grad school student

- figured out i’m bi ???

- working two jobs to keep me afloat and doing school at the same time

so i am sorry i haven’t posted anything, im hoping i can soon

[topofmythighs]

Yes Father (1/2)

gifs belong to me

18+

Pairing: Sam Winchester’s alias Father Frehley x fem reader

Warnings: SMUT, (d)ubcon, priest kink?, innocence ruined kink?, mentions of God and religion, mentions of death and murder, handjob, fingering. (Sorry if I didn’t identify the warnings correctly. I tend to just write without thinking of what things are called.)

Summary: Two junior priests visit your church and you’re tasked with giving them a tour of the chapel. You take a liking to one and meet him later that night at the church.

Word count: 3.3k

Notes: This fic was written in a FIRST PERSON POV!!! This is the first part of a two-part fic about Sam’s alias Father Frehley. This first part takes place during season 1, episode 14: Nightmare. Anyways, thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy!

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

I’ve always been a believer. Always. I go to mass every Sunday and always help out where I’m needed.  

I have a myriad of jobs to do at the Church. Sometimes I hand out book bags for the kids to look through, or other weekends, the coffee and doughnuts for the parents, just devoting my time to the Church.

One Sunday, I’m handing out said coffee and doughnuts after the final service of the day, when two new priests walk into the lobby of the church. They’re dressed in black suits with white roman collars, marking their priesthood. 

They’re listening to Father Padrick; one of the priests at my church, and asking him questions. They follow him in through the doors and make their way closer to my little table.

They’re handsome. Probably the most handsome men I’ve ever seen in my life. I almost choke on my breath when I see them. One in particular is a mountain of a man; broad shoulders, chestnut hair, and misty hazel eyes. He looks pensive as Father Padrick speaks to him.

Approaching me, Father Padrick says, “Hi dearie, this is Father Simmons and Father Frehley”

The blonde one nods first, and then the brown haired one. His eyes stay on mine for a moment too long. 

“Gentlemen,” Father Padrick continues, “This is y/n. She goes to the university in town and volunteers here every Sunday.”

“Nice to meet you” I say timidly and stick out my hand to shake theirs. Father Frehley quickly grabs a hold of mine and squeezes it gently. His bear paw of a hand envelopes mine and the dry warmth sends a shiver down my spine.

“It’s always good to see fellow young people helping out the church” Father Frehley says to me, kind eyes making me smile.

“Fellow?” I ask him. He doesn’t necessarily look old at all, it’s mostly just his frame that makes me think so. 

He smiles and says, “Yes, I’m only twenty-three, still new to the parish”

Father Simmons must have seen my enchantment with Father Frehley and interrupts my thoughts saying, “I’m also new, and young, just for the record.” He chuckles awkwardly and I nod my head in slow agreement.

“Anyways, would you please take these two on a tour around the church?” Father Padrick asks.

“Of course, follow me” I say softly.

I walk in front of the men, leading them towards the large wooden doors that lead into the chapel. 

“So, have both of you come to join the clergy here?” I ask, dipping both my fingers in the small dish of holy water as I enter.

“Uhm no, we’re actually junior priests over at St. Augustine’s, however we were close with Father O’Malley and are in town for the weekend for his funeral” Father Frehley says mournfully.

When I hear him mention Father O’Malley I quickly turn around to watch them both make the sign of the cross. 

Father O’Malley was another priest at my church, who was murdered in a sadistic and bizarre way a week ago outside his home.

“Oh gosh, I didn’t even think to connect the dots. I’m so sorry for your loss. I didn’t know him as well as I know Father Padrick, he mostly did services during the weekdays” I say and hang my head in sorrow.

“It’s okay, we just wanted to come take a look at where he devoted his time and talk to others that knew him” Father Simmons adds.

I nod, “I wish I could tell you all about him, but unfortunately I don’t know what to say, he was a very secluded man”

Father Frehley smiles warmly, understanding what I mean and continues, “Did Father O’Malley pick up any strange habits or behaviors recently?” 

“Not that I can think of. I’m sorry, was something wrong before his death?” I ask, wondering why such a strange question was asked at random.

“Well that’s what we’re trying to figure out” He responds. 

I hum and fidget with the hem of my cardigan as we make eye contact. Father Frehley licks his lips subconsciously and they glisten just like his eyes.

A rumble of heat echoes from my private parts and I look down at my shoes, struggling to figure out what that sensation was.

“Everything okay?” Father Frehley asks.

I shoot my head up and realize he’s closer to me now, leaning in with concern. “Oh yeah,” I laugh, “just feeling a little sick or something”

I don’t know why my heart has started to beat fast, or why my mouth is suddenly dry. Was I afraid of him? Did he excite me?

“Well, we’ll let you get home, but if you remember anything about Father O’Malley and his death, or you even just feel strange, call us, okay?” Father Frehley says.

I bite my lip as our fingers touch when he hands me a small card with his number on it. 

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

I’m pacing back and forth in the living room of my small apartment, trying to calm the panic inside of me. My stomach is churning and my body racked with anxiety as images of Father O’Malley through my mind. The uncomfortable adrenaline from thinking about the death of a person I knew, was eating away at me.

I’m cursing at my own brain and decide to walk to the next block and pray at the church. 

I grab the keys to the church and head out.

I approach the doors of the building and stick the key in. I fidget with the key but realize that the doors are already unlocked. I open the door quietly, assuming it’s Father Padrick completing future sermon plans. 

As soon as I’m inside I realize the doors to the chapel are open and see the flickering of prayer candles lighting up the room. Dark shadows bounce off the walls and it’s eerily silent. 

I continue further into the chapel and see someone sitting on the steps of the altar. Moonlight shines through the ceiling of glass and windows of stained glass, to illuminate the brooding figure.

I squint and quickly recognize exactly who it is.

“Father Frehley?” I ask, and walk towards him. 

His head shoots up in surprise.

“How’d you get in here?” I continue.

His face beams as he recognizes it’s me. He sighs as I approach him. “Promise you won’t tell Father Padrick?”

“That depends on how you got in,” I say teasingly.

He scoffs with a grin, claps his hands together and says, “I picked the lock”

My eyes widen and a smile spreads across my face as I laugh about his entrance strategy. This giant of a priest, broke into a church and didn’t even seem to be repenting.

“You could have just asked me for a spare key” I grin.

“Oh yeah? And what are you doing here?” he asks.

I blush at his interest, “I just came here for a moment away from life’s anxieties” 

“Sounds like we both could use a break” 

I look down at him inquisitively. His eyes are sparkling up at me. I watch him stand up and take a step towards me.

My stomach flutters and that strange rush returns to my privates. I let in a sharp breath, shocked at the sensation.

“What do you mean?” I ask eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“I’ve just been stressed lately, and could use a stress reliever. You’d be surprised at how interesting and hectic my life is. All that chaos can really do a number on you, you know? Stress takes on all sorts of physical forms in your body” he elaborates. 

“Like what?” I ask and tilt my head, curious to see if he continues.

“Well, for instance, pain,” he pauses, looks at me and bites his lip. I can tell there’s thoughts and ideas brewing in his head. “I’m actually experiencing some pretty bad pain right now” he sighs.

“Where? What happened?” I immediately scan his body, looking for any signs of pain.

“Earlier today I was on a date, and my date had a job that she didn’t finish… Which has left me with a tremendous amount of tension and soreness” he says, and places his hand on his crotch.

My eyes go big yet again at the sight of a large bulge in his pants.

“A date? I thought priests weren’t allowed to date” I step back.

“I mean a date as friends silly,” he explains. 

“Oh, I see” I nod and feel stupid for jumping to conclusions. 

He squeezes the rod in his pants and closes his eyes for a second, as if he’s trying to imagine something.  

“Is that where it hurts?” 

“Yeah, it’s really sore and hurts real bad”

“Is there anything I can do to help Father?” 

He lets out a shaky breath when I say his title. His hand begins to rub over the bulge, back and forth. “There is something,” he says, “you could give me a special massage”

“Of course Father, anything to help” I say and reach for the bulge. He grabs my wrist before I’m able to place my hand on him.

“Hold on a sec, let me get comfortable” he whispers.

I nod, agreeingly; the perfect massage requires the perfect position. He leads me by the wrist to a pew in the first row and sits me down right next to him. 

As soon as we’re sat, I reach over and place my hand on his large bulge and rub my hand back and forth just like he was.

“I’ve never given anyone a special massage before, so will you tell me if I’m doing it right?” I ask, looking into his darkening eyes.

“Of course baby, let me pull my pants down so you can get a better grip” he says.

The pet name ‘baby’ sends another odd wave to my privates.

Father Frehley pulls his pants down and something large springs up.

“This is my cock baby, it hurts really bad. The only thing that’ll make me feel better is if you touch it” he begs into my ear.

I nod and he places his huge hand over mine, and brings it to what he calls his cock. 

“Yeah just like that” he praises, wrapping my hand around him. “Now move your hand up and down and don’t stop until I tell you to.”

I follow his instructions and begin to move my hand up and down. He’s moaning and huffing while he looks into my eyes, watching me work.

“Fuck honey, you’re making my dick feel so good” he seethes.

Before I can even think, he reaches for my face and kisses me. I know that kissing is wrong but I don’t pull back because I don’t want him to be mad at me for disobeying him, and because it makes my privates flutter again.

I continue to pump at his dick and his hips begin to thrust into my hand harder and faster, so I apply more pressure and quicken my pace. My hand and arm are sore but he hasn’t told me to stop so I continue. I just want to take his pain away.

As we kiss, his hands pull slightly at parts of my hair and push at parts of my face. One of his hands finds my neck and wraps around it gently. Warmth spreads through every vein in me.

His kisses become sloppy and his tongue is exploring my mouth. I traverse his mouth with my own tongue as well and the heat between us increases. His tongue circles mine, leaving me breathless. His moans become louder the faster I pump my hand. His cock is throbbing, and his hips are stuttering into my fist. 

With a sudden “Fuck” from his lips, I feel something warm splatter on my hand while I jerk at his dick. His whole body tenses and then relaxes with the release of the fluid. He wraps his hand around mine and slows my pumps, eventually making them come to a stop.

“Fuck baby, you’re amazing, look at what you did to me” he smiles intoxicatingly as his lips pull away from mine. 

“Did that- did that make you feel better?” I ask shyly. 

“So much better, you have no idea” he shakes his head and laughs.

His laugh and the weird warmth and sensations in my privates causes my hips to roll forward uncontrollably. 

“Sorry,” I apologize for the spasm.

“Oh don’t be sorry, is everything okay?” he asks, his face scrunched with worry.

“Well, I don’t know, I think so, but I feel funny,” I confess.

“Where?” he asks, and doesn’t break eye contact with me.

The funny feeling only increases, “Somewhere embarrassing?”

“Embarrassing? What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well, I’m not supposed to talk about it. It’s impolite and crude” 

“Oh, I see what you mean…” he smiles and nods, understandingly. “Does it feel all fluttery and hot?”

My face grows bright red, and I whisper, “How do you know that?”

He laughs softly and says, “I wasn’t always a priest”

I don’t really understand what he means but I bunch my hands into fists as I catch him biting his lip, and his eyes scanning down my body.

“It’s only growing worse isn’t it?” he asks.

I suck in a deep breath and nod.

“Do you want me to help you with it? I can make you feel all better” he breathes out so tenderly. 

He’s so close to me, for the first time I can really smell his cologne and hear his breathing.

“H-how? A special massage?” 

He nods; traces a finger up and down my arm as he asks, “Will you let me touch you?”

“You mean, down there, where it feels funny?” 

He nods again and looks like he’s about to devour me. I’m shocked at his request. Nobody has ever wanted to help me feel better by touching me. 

“And if I let you, it’ll make me feel better?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. If you let me, I can make you feel really good” his fingers ghosting my waist.

“Are you sure?” I whimper. The heat from his body and touch fuel the sensation in my privates.

“Mhm” he says and kisses me softly. 

Something in me ignites as he pulls me against him and slips his tongue in my mouth. His hands run up my back and hold the sides of my face as he plunges his tongue into my mouth. His kisses slow and he lets out a low moan as he pulls away.

“Sit on my lap” he commands.

I don’t question this for a second and immediately sit on his lap, my back pushing against his torso. He places his hands on my stomach and begins to run them up and down my torso. Father Frehley is right, this does feel good.

With caution, he moves his hands up to my breasts and I moan. I didn’t think that a touch on my chest could stir such a feeling in me.

“Let me help you baby” he coos against my neck. He begins to kiss, and suck, and lick at my neck, making me dizzy. His hands have somehow undone my bra and taken my sweater off. He's massaging my breasts, running his fingers over my nipples, tweaking them occasionally. I can’t help but whimper and moan from his touch. My hips begin to buck, like they have a mind of their own.

“God look at how needy you are” he groans into my neck.

His hands finally find my privates and he rubs his hand over my mound. My hips continue to move, grinding against his hand.

“How can someone so beautiful never have been touched?” he mumbles.

Continuing his kisses on my neck, he pulls my skirt up and rips my tights. I squeal from his impressive action and watch as his large fingers pull my panties to the side and touch my hole. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet” he melts into my ear.

His fingers gather the slick that drips out of me and brings it up to the most sensitive part of my privates. 

I moan as he circles that spot slowly and he says “This is your clit. When I touch this, it makes you feel better doesn’t it?”

“Yes Father” I mumble, already addicted to whatever this feeling was.

Father Frehley groans at my obedience and applies more pressure. He’s skillfully rubbing at my clit and I feel a strange tightness increase in me. It’s like a balloon of pleasure slowly blowing up inside of me. 

As soon as it feels like it’s going to pop, he pulls his fingers off of me. My hips stutter in the air, aching at the loss. I whine at the stop of the sensation.

“Shhhhh, I know honey, you’re doing so well for me. But now I’m going to put my finger inside of you” he whispers.

He does exactly what he says. I feel one of his thick and long fingers slide into my hole. I immediately clench around it and moan from both pleasure and discomfort. 

“God you’re so fucking tight” he whines. I don’t even recognize he’s taken the lord’s name in vain.

He lets me take a second to adjust to his finger inside of me, but then begins to slowly drag it out and back in. Each time he plunges his finger back in, I moan. He begins to pick up the pace and also starts to move his finger while it’s inside of me, hitting a sweet spot against my walls. I feel a tear roll down my cheek as his finger curls and continuously brushes that sensitive spot. 

“Look at your tight, virgin cunt, trying to push my finger out,” he hisses.

His finger feels so good, prodding that perfect spot in me again and again and again and again. 

With time he adds another finger to me and picks up his pace. The palm of his hand rubs against what he calls my clit, and it feels so, so wonderful. His fingers are flicking back and forth in me, vibrating against that tart spot, making my eyes water.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl, taking what I give to you. Want you to make a mess all over my hand baby” he moans.

His words kick my hips into action and I begin to grind up against his hand even more. 

With one hand pinching my nipple and the other slamming into me, the balloon of pleasure that had been building, bursts. A wave of fluttering and blinding sensations hits me and I’m thrown into a different universe. I think I see God and hear angels singing.

As the tide of this sensation goes out, I’m once again back in the church on Father Frehley's lap. His fingers have slowed and so have his kisses on my neck. 

“Look at the pretty mess you made” he whispers and slowly drags his long fingers out of me. I moan at feeling and at the sight of his glistening hand. 

He cups my mound gently and kisses me on the shoulder. He brings his fingers up to my mouth and says “Taste yourself sweetheart”

I obey and open my mouth to let his fingers slide in. I suck and taste the nectar I’ve made. With a pop, he takes his fingers out of my mouth and says “Good girl”

I lay in his lap just catching my breath, looking up through the glass ceiling at the stars, trying to rationalize what I just experienced. Almost as if he can read my mind he wraps his arms around me comfortingly, and kisses my shoulder gently. 

“You did so well baby” he whispers.