summary : you're supposed to be helping him study. supposed to listen, and nod and tell him if he starts rambling. just like he's doing now. but instead, all you seem able to do, is stare. stare at his pretty mouth, and perfect face, and think.
notes : based on this request <3 i had so, so, so much fun writing this, pls. also realized how having a whimpering, pathetic sammy winchester in my bed would actually heal my life
content warnings : smut, 18+ content, adults only! standford!sammy, pwp (plot? what plot), sub!sam/verse!sam, top!reader/verse!reader, no established relationship, but they clearly like each other (lolol), more than a situationship, less than dating, i wrote it with female!reader in mind, but i think? you could reader it as genderneutral!reader too (pls don't cancel me if it doesn't fit), making out, grinding, dry humping, swearing, reader is a menace and sammy is desperate, shy!sammy, nerdy!sammy, pathetic!sammy, whimpering, humiliation kink (sam), begging, premature ejaculation (oops), not proofread, english is not my first language pls
it's really not fair, you think. quietly, in the privacy of your own mind. eyes watching sammy like a hawk, as the screen of your laptop slowly fade to black in your lap. entirely forgotten in favor for the gentle giant sitting in front of you.
you're on his bed in his off-campus apartment. him in jeans and a t-shirt, you, clad in one of his old shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. the only makeup on your face, the remnants of yesterday's. comfortable, relaxed.
he's rambling, again. flailing his hands, as he talks you through the different stages involved in defending criminalsβ¦ or something. in all honesty, you stopped paying attention when he started chewing on his penβinstead zoning in on his mouth, everything else around you turning to white noise. your focus instead entirely dedicated to his lips; his pink, perfect, lips. wrapping 'round the cap of the ink-pen like it's somehow supposed to help him find the right words.
he denies having an oral fixation whenever you confront him with it. just flushes a delicious shade of pink, and says it helps him think. avoiding your eyes while he says it. you've never believed him. and even if it is true, it's still distracting. to you, at least.
you're supposed to be helping him study. supposed to listen, and nod and tell him if he starts rambling. just like he's doing now. but instead, all you seem able to do, is stare. stare at his pretty mouth, and perfect face, and think.
think back to last night, when he had his face buried in your neck, pantingβrough and gravellyβhis whole body shivering, hips stuttering, as he rutted into you. the blunt head of his cock bullying that deliciously, gooey spot inside of you that always had you arching your back, and your nails digging even further into his, soft, damp skin. leaving a trail of moon-shaped dents up and down his back.
you know he's close when he starts whimpering in your ear, begging, "please- s'good for me- just, fuck, need-" one hand already leaving your hip, trailing down to the low of your stomach, and pressing. right atop where he's carving into you. effectively ruining you for anyone else. and it's almost too much, but also not enough.
so you encourage him. tug at his hair, and scratch your nails between his shoulder blades. begging for more, "sammy, please- harder, need'you-" and that does it.
moaning prayers in the shape of your name, his hips pistonβout of breath and out of rhythmβand then he'sβ
saying your name. your eyes snap up immediately; he's talking to you. looking at you with that familiar furrow in his brow, that tells you he's concerned, but curious. probably wondering why you've gone non-verbal on him.
you just stare at him, lips slightly parted, as you collect yourself. praying he hasn't caught the way you're pressing your thighs together under the laptop. you try and remind your brain (and your body) that you're here to help, and not to distract him (he started it, your honor!).
he says your name again, slower this time, before putting his own laptop to the side, scooting a little closer to you on the bed. his big (so, so big) hands pressed palms down atop his thighs (his big, big thighs- okay seriously concentrate). his head tilted, still just looking. and why is he so fucking cute?
"you okay?" and there's no accusation in his tone, only concern. sweet, and genuine. just like him.
and that's almost enough for you to just.. jump his bones right then and there; to hell with his law degree, and your own dignity. but, you do still have (small) shreds of something resembling self-control left in you. so, instead of straddling his thighsβlike you want toβyou press your own thighs a little tighter together, hoping it's subtle enough not to catch his eyes.
with a noncommittal hum, you let your eyes glide to his; meeting his concerned stare with a smile. small, and coy.
you nod, slowly, "you're so pretty when you ramble," you say, almost to yourself, but the effect all the same. the realization hitting him like a tidal wave; cheeks flushing, brows un-furrowing, hands fisting atop his thighs. "makes me wanna kiss you silly," you continue, smile growing, satisfied, as his eyes begin to flitter 'round the room. looking anywhere but you.
"oh-" is all he says, suddenly at a loss for words. and it's so sweet, you almost feel bad for him. almost. but you also know him; know that his bashfulness, is not to be confused with discomfort. still, you take pity on him. deciding to play nice. play fair. for now.
"yeah." you nod, again, gentle still, as you reach out to close his laptop, and then, your own. eyes never leaving his face. "is that something you want?" you ask, voice low, tone even. controlled, despite how hungry you feel. and sam is, by far, your favorite meal.
you feel a little like a predator, circling your prey, when you plant your hands on the mattressβyour laptop already discarded to the floorβcrawling, stalking, closer to him on the bed.
when he nods, it's fast and eager. eyes hazy, lips parted. tongue darting out to wet his lips, almost on instinct. and he might not be brave enough to speak, but he's not going anywhere; he's exactly where he wants to be. already straining in his jeans, one big hand pawing pathetically near his crotch, like it'll help.
you both know it won't. not until you're kissing him, touching him.
and while, on any other night, you might make him work for it, you have neither the will, nor the patience tonight. so you waste no time straddling his thigh, humming in agreement when he wraps one, strong arm around your waist. the other already snaking it's way up your back, one hand soon finding it's way into your hair. fingers carding through your hair; sweet and desperate. like he just can't help himself.
and if he's already breathing heavy, you don't tease him about it. you just nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. lips already blazing a wet, open-mouthed trail along the soft skin below his ear.
enjoying the way his breath hitches when you find that particularly sensitive spot only you know about.
"baby- ah-" always making the sweetest sounds for you, when you nip at the skin. lovingly, gently. like a menace. normally, you could spend hours like this. teasing, playing. getting him all worked up and whimpering. but right now, you're just as desperate as him.
already rolling your hips along the length of his thigh; the drag of his denim particularly delicious against your core, even through your shorts.
"shh, baby, 'know what you need," you cooβmocking, condescending, but oh so sweet. his hips stutter in response. all instinct, and pathetic. because he loves it when you talk like that; when you use that beautiful voice of yours to placate him, tell him how pathetic he is, how needy and impatient he is. even if it makes his stomach curl, and his ears burn.
because it also makes him so fucking hard he can't talk. can hardly think. so he nods, eager and flustered, and paws at your waist, your hips. anywhere his hands can reach. he needs you so bad it hurts.
and because you're nothing if not merciful, you always give in. gives him what he wants, let's him take what he needs.
finally, your lips find his. hot, heavy and hungry. you suckle on his bottom lip, asking for permission, and he grants it. immediately. let's you, take too.
he kisses you back with fever; matching your desperation with his own. pulls you closer, trapping you against his chest while his other hand claws at your curves.
licking into your mouth, sucking on your tongue with urgency. the remnants of gloss sweet on your lips, mixing with the distinct taste of you that he's oh so addicted to.
already, he's rolling his hips to meet yours, painfully hard in his jeans. the fabric straining over his length, agonizingly painful, but also so, so good.
traveling from his shoulders to the nape of his neck, you tug at the strands as the nape, pulling a low groan straight from his chest, sammy now gasping into your mouth, you happily swallowing the sound.
your nails scratching at his scalp, bordering on painfulβjust the way he likes it.
when he tries to move you, to reposition your hips so your core aligns directly with his cock, you let him. you know what he needs, and you're more than happy to give it to him. especially when he whimpers a "than'you" against your mouth, before going back to sucking on your bottom lip.
it sends a thrill right through you; heat flooding your veins, electric and white-hot. and now it's your turn to moan, high and whiny. and he just can't himself; not with you. not when you're right here, in his lap, looking and sounding so perfect. so soft, so warm. letting him kiss you.
letting him rub his cock against your clothed pussy like a fucking pervert. swirling your hips, whimpering so sweetly into his mouth.
pulling at his hair, repositioning his headβhis mouthβlike you want it. sucking on his tongue, biting on his lip.
grinding on his cock, hard and fast and eager.
it's too much. the friction is too good, your sounds too perfect, and your mouth too warm and wet andβ "fuck- baby, ah- baby-"
his orgasm hits him like a freight train; hard, and fast and mind-numbing.
whole body doubling over, seeking you out. hands on your hips in a bruising grip, as his hips begin to falter. his cock pulsing violently, spurting ropes upon ropes of warm, hot seed into his jeans.
no longer kissing you, only able to pant ragged and hard into your mouth, eyes shut tightly, forehead resting on yours.
and your voice, cooing, "there you go, baby. so good f'me," encouraging him to just let it happen; to just let himself cum in his pants like a fucking virgin.
when his hips finally still β shaking, cock still twitching in his pants β you just pet your fingers through his hair, comforting your pathetic boyfriend, kissing his jawline, mumbling little pet names and, "good boy"'s against his throat.
it's almost enough to get him hard again.
with two, strong arms wrapping around your your bodyβwarm, perfect and hisβhe buries his face in your neck, and just breathes. trying to get his lungs to behave, and his heart to act normal.
"sorry.." he murmurs into your neck, and you can feel practically hear the frown on his voice before he's even finished the word.
you laugh, a little inridicilous, and pull back just enough to look at him. hazel eyes meeting yours in shame. his whole face flustered, cheeks burning.
"are you kidding me?" you question, biting your lip, "that was so fucking hot, sammy,"
if he was burning before, he's actively on fire, now. his whole face red; neck, throat and chest, too.
he doesn't know what to say. mouth opening and closing repeatedly, before finally settling on saying nothing. instead, he smiles.
it's shy, a little embarrassede even, but mostly? mostly he's just in awe. looking at you with such reverence and affection, or might be making you blush.
but you don't get to brush it off, or turn the attention back to him. don't even get to tease him about the fact that he's looking at you like you hung the fucking moon.
before you even get to open your mouth, he's got you pinned on the bed, mouth attacking your throat, your collarbones. licking, biting, sucking. worshipping.
"wanna thank you," voice all gravely, when his hands begin pushing your his shirt up and off your body.
"wanna taste you, please-"
and this time you're definitely blushing.
Β©THOUSANDYEARSORSMTH β please do not steal or copy any my works. i donβt condone re-posting my works on other sites either. if you want to be supportive, re-blogging is a writers best friend ! liking or leaving comment is also greatly appreciated! other than that, thank you so much for reading and supporting <3 !
