s o u l l e s s

she owes him for this. big time. life, limb, and sanity level of owing him. even if she knows, on some level, that she’s vastly underprepared for the version of sam winchester that awaits her in vegas, she won’t lie and say there’s not a bit of a draw as well. he won’t coddle her. won’t give her sad eyes and pointless attempts at comfort. caroline swallows as he confirms the flight details, tugging her car into reverse to pull out of the driveway. she can buy new things in vegas. she’s had damon’s credit card number memorized for emergency purposes for the past few months, and she figures — ironically enough, of all people — he’ll understand.  ❝ thank you. ❞  two small words, but the weight behind them is more genuine than she could express with entire sonnets.  ❝ seriously, sam. i owe you. ❞ 

— - Sam never quit hunting. It’s in his blood and he’s accepted that. However, he did start taking select cases, ones that would challenge him and teach him more about the supernatural without so much risk to his major money maker. Drug dealing.        

Sam found out how lucrative dealing could be and started doing it almost full time. Orders got bigger, important people wanted to meet with the man that could sell a hair brush to a bald man, not to mention a guy that had a client list the length of most of their rap sheets. Now he’s got enough reputation that he has connections in Mexico and doesn’t rely on his hookups through any of the MC’s he knows in the western US to do business.

        It’s unlikely that anyone will know his real name, but if you mention the Desert Eagle people can point you in the right direction. He lives modestly enough not to raise any red flags, but nice enough that he doesn’t worry about security or anyone shooting him up while he’s in the shower or stealing the product he does keep on hand.

        Sam is not at all picky about clientele, but he does have runners that handle medium to large deliveries, usually has one or two people hanging out at his house just for someone to shoot the shit with, and while his front door isn’t necessarily a revolving one, he has his fair share of foot traffic throughout the day, unless he closes down shop and has to head out on a hunt. 

     Got an itch that needs scratched? He’s your man. Don’t have the money right now? Work out a deal with him. Don’t pay him when you say you will? Go ahead and kiss your mama goodbye, because she probably won’t see you again.

he's lounging at a slots machine, feeding nickel after nickel in, watching the pictures spin and spin, buttons push-push-push... another nickel, spin and spin, push-push-push. his winnings collect in the tray by his knees but he's not really paying attention.

it's tedious and boring but he's got nothing better to do while he waits for the rest of the club to meet up so they can head back to boulder city, so while in vegas, do as the others in vegas do right? isn't that the saying?

legs splayed as he fits uncomfortably on the stool, leaned back on the not-high-enough backrest, sam tries not to cause a spectacle, inasmuch as a behemoth of a man like him can 'not stand out'. he shifts in his seat, clears the coin tray into the plastic cup in his hand and begins again with the game, knowing full and damn well he won't be hitting any jackpots anytime soon, but dedicated to not getting hives from being hypervigilant about his surroundings.

○  name: Dorie  ○  pronouns: She/Her

○    preference of communication: Discord or Tumblr IMs :)

○    name of muse(s): Sam Winchester (of the soulless variety)

○    platforms you’ve used: tumblr, chatzy, skype, discord

○    best experience: really clicking with someone and building all the worlds, all the relationships and a great friendship on top of all that.

○    rp pet peeves / dealbreakers: how long do you got? lol

○    fluff, angst, or smut: all of them? sam likes his smut on here, but i do also enjoy writing angst and fluff equally on other blogs.

○    plots or memes:○  i love plotting, almost more than writing the stuff out itself. throwing ideas and headcanons around is my favorite.

○    best time to write: night time when i actually have free time.

○    are you like your muse(s): in certain ways yes, in other ways not so much. he'd kill easier than i do, but we're both very open and honest.

tagged by: @nanlanmo

@sculless​ said :  ❛  are you really sure this is what you want ? you won’t regret it later ?  ❜

“I don’t think I could ever regret this.” Bon Temps didn’t hold anything for her, anymore. It was a tomb dedicated to some of the worst years of her life and watching the others move on? She wasn’t going to be the only one who remembered everything that’d happened while everyone else got to forget. “You make me feel safe.” Since their paths had crossed, the hunter had given her nothing but the truth and it was the first time in her life she wasn’t second guessing the world around her. Sam had given her peace for the first time… Really, ever, and she wasn’t going to give that up. Not unless he wanted her gone. “If you’re okay with me stayin’…I’d like to.” 

@montanamiracle​ asked:     ❛  it’s not that i’m horny all the time. it’s just that you’re always sexy.  ❜

     “one, yes you are. and two, tell me something i don’t know.”

          nanlanmo asked:          “  i like waking up with you.  ”

     “What’m I? Some kinda teddy bear?” he asks, straight-faced and with one eyebrow quirked up. There’s still that weird softness in his eyes when he looks at her, though. Some hidden smile that refuses to quite make it to his lips as it might have in earlier years. Still the fondness he’s built for her over time lets him put his guard down in times like this, and he can’t help but wrap his big tattooed arm around her and draw her into his side as if she weighed nothing.

The way he draws her orgasm out leaves her dizzy and panting, fingers practically turning to claws as her knuckles turn white from gripping the headboard to keep her from hurting Sam. God the way he lavishes over her skin, groping and tender. Lust hooded gaze meets his and that look has anticipation twisting low in her belly again. This man was going to leave her weak she just knew it. 

A shuddering breath hitches as a lust-drunk smile pulls lazily across her lips at his touch. Goosebumps chased his path up her thigh and a sharp, gasping giggle punctuates the moment thick digits slip over her overly sensitive skin. She wants to say something clever, some cheeky flirt to thank him for the release but that filling push of his fingers inside of her steals every coherent thought from her head. For a moment she’s struck silent, full lips parting to shape the sound that wouldn’t come and her brows furrowed while her hips first lift away from his invasion then sink eagerly against him. 

Her first mewling moan is chased by a heady, “Fuck--” and another whining moan as Sam’s praise mingles with his insistent rhythm to drive her careening towards another release. Her body had become his to do with as he saw fit and there was no one she’d rather be at the mercy of as he played her with such delicious intent. That second orgasm he sought after crests just as he asks her for it, her core gripping his fingers as her hips buck against his hold with a keening cry. One hand slips from the headboard to grip at his arm holding her in place, fingers haphazardly finding purchase over warm skin in a desperate attempt to beg him to let her catch her breath. Half formed sentences fall from her lips as her body quakes at his touch, “Please--” and “Fuck--” and his name all attempting to tumble free at once in a pleasure tangled web of whimpered and moaned sounds. God help her, sensitive and shaking, all she wanted was more.

The sight of her, the scent and the taste and the sounds, all wrapped up into one moment in time that Sam could happily die in. He can feel the quiver in the muscles of her thighs, the way they tighten just so around his head and tense under his hand. He likes that reaction and will have to remember to treat this girl often to this very kind of attention if it gets that kind of reaction. As it is, he’s already pushed her twice over the edge now and he’s feeling rather proud of himself, reducing her vocabulary to only a few select words. “Please what? Tell me what you want,” he grins, though he doesn’t give her too much time to think on it.

Eventually he does unseat her from his face, after a few long and lingering licks to clean her up nice and pretty, and as he drops her down, seated on the bottom of his torso, he keeps one hand on her hip and the other digs fingers into her hair to draw her down to him, kissing the taste of her right into her own mouth and humming to find the distinct taste of his own blood lingering tangy and metallic on her tongue.