#soulless!sam

you and sam were dating before the whole apocalypse mess. when lucifer possessed sam, there wasn’t a chance that you’d leave him alone.

you jumped right in the pit along with him, pushing michael in at the same time.

but hell didn’t last too long, the same night you and sam were pulled right out.

you weren’t sure who had done it, but you knew you weren’t the same. both of you decided not to tell dean, leave him happy with lisa while the two of you continued hunting.

as time went on, you noticed how your relationship dynamic changed drastically.

you went from the loveliest couple, constantly caring, and scared to death of each other getting hurt to ruthless hunters, without a care for each other's life, and passionate destruction.

and that’s when the competitions started, something you initiated during a random hunt.

before, to get information, you’d always find a way around flirting, but now since you couldn’t care, you thought you'd used it to your advantage.

with sam watching, you made your way across the bar, swaying your hips in a skirt that left little to the imagination.

you pried information out of the poor young man in front of you, fingers tracing his arm before moving to his thigh, then whispering in his ear.

sam was livid, but it wasn’t out of care for you, it was because you were his.

he heavily contemplated beating the daylights out of him, but you ended the conversation before he could. pressing a kiss to the man’s cheek and making your way back to sam.

“what the fuck was that?” sam gritted, fists balled by his sides.

you smiled sweetly, “just gettin information baby, way faster than usual. can’t you see that’s more effective?” he took a pause, thinking over the usual process and decided you were right.

but the next hunt, it was him flirting with another girl instead. it made you just as mad, given that any girl would throw herself at the chance, he made it so much worse.

his knee sliding between her thighs, hands brushing her hair, lips ghosting over her ear.

he took long strides to you afterwards, smug look on his face before saying “way more effective.”

this week’s hunt was no different, except you both were playing the same game.

in the morning he watched you shamelessly flirt with the mortician for an early autopsy and file access without formal permission.

he watched how the guy ogled at your ass in those tight dress pants you always wore. his knuckles turned white by his side before you both left.

a bit later, you saw sam entertain the needy witnesses' advantages. college girls who instantly got glued to the bulky FBI agent who offered his fake sympathy.

you rolled your eyes at the obnoxiousness, watching sam smile with all teeth for the young girls before heading out.

before the night wrapped up, you suggested trying the bar for more info.

sam knew what you were doing, you were trying to win.

he’d let it slide, watching you do your usual antics. until he watched when you put your hand on another man’s bulge.

sam was by your side in a second, “alright that’s enough.” he gritted before dragging you outside, fingertips digging into your arm.

getting in his dodge charger, you smiled to yourself before he slammed the driver door.

“think you’re real fucking funny huh?” he said, gripping the life out of the steering wheel. you shrugged as he pulled off, not caring about his speed.

“doin the most for some random fuckin’ guy, but he doesn’t get to have you. only i do.” he went on, rambling mainly to himself, but his words made you smile.

his possessiveness turned you on. it was impossible not to, his furrowed brow, tight jaw, veins popping out on his forehead and arms. he looked edible.

he sped off to the motel, walking fast to the room as you followed behind.

as soon as the locks turned on that motel door, he was on you.

hands roaming your entire body, as you tore his clothes off. he was so fucking fit.

the back to back hunting without rest made him absolutely jacked, and you loved it.

sam’s hands went around your back and unclasped your bra, calloused fingers taking up space on your bare body, bringing your shirt along with it.

you had no time for the usual make out and grinding, before all your clothes were tossed on the ground. he was already rushing you to the cheap motel bed.

you laid on your back, hair falling over the pillow as he towered over you. you noticed how his cock stood against his stomach, hard and leaking with his tip flushed and needy.

you wanted it inside badly, neither of you cared about protection, it felt so much better, feeling every ridge of him.

he leaned down to press wet kisses all over your body, sucking in visible places; your jaw, under your chin and on your neck, making sure to leave a mark.

you sighed, hand making its way to his grown out hair. tangling and gripping, he grunted at the feeling.

“mine,” as he kissed down your collarbone, “perfect fuckin’ body,” another kiss above your breast, “all f’ me.” before taking your nipple into his mouth.

you whined as his tongue swirled around the bud, sucking with closed eyes before he let it go with a soft bite.

he made his way down your body, sole purpose of this being to mark you, not to pleasure you.

he sucked marks into your inner thighs, before taking a breath at the sight of your wetness.

he wasted no time, spreading your folds apart with a long lick, savoring the taste before latching right where you needed him.

you moaned high, eyes shutting as he ate you like a man starved. noises flooded the room as he sucked and slurped, your back arching til he lifted off you.

before sam would devote himself to your pleasure, eating you out was his greatest joy and sometimes he came right in his boxers from it.

but this sam was different, he only did things for himself, and he only did this cause he enjoyed the taste of you.

sam came up to kiss you, tongue pushing into your mouth without permission.

you tasted yourself on him, moaning into his mouth before his hand moved to his cock.

he didn't bother teasing, rubbing his tip between your folds briefly before pressing into you and stretching you apart.

your hands flew to his arms as he sunk in, “fuck–” his head flew back, “so tight, suckin me right in.” he whined, eyes squeezing open and shut.

you turned your face to the side, soft gasps as he filled you entirely. he didn't let either of you settle before he set a pace, it wasn’t brutal but it wasn’t sweet.

the sounds of skin slapping was heard along with your uncontained noises as he wrecked you. “fuck sam!” you moaned,

both of you didn’t care about how loud you were being, or to get a noise complaint.

your nails dug crescents into his biceps, long cock pulling out fully before slamming back in. it took the air put yours lungs, but it felt perfect.

“no one fucks you this good huh baby?” sam groaned, head falling to rest in the crook of your neck.

“no–no one.” you whined, bodies completely slick and glistening as he kept his speed.

“say it.” he gritted, breath fanning on your skin, right hand rubbing your waist.

you moaned, breathe hiccuping slightly before you could speak, “only you sam, only you make me feel good.”

he made a strangled noise, lifting up to change the pace.

your eyes immediately rolled when he hit faster and deeper, moans spilling out both of your mouths desperately.

it didn’t matter that you didn't believe the possessive shit he made you say, if it meant he’d fuck you that good? you’d say anything he wanted.

but it was true, no guy did it like him, you don't think anyone ever could. no one else deserved him.

“pussy’s mine, look how much she wants me, keeps sucking me right in.” he babbled, barely audible with the sounds of your bodies connecting.

you whined, clenching around him, and watching his thrusts falter as he moaned again.

you wrapped your legs around his back, pulling him closer with a force that made you both whine.

he was impossibly deep, bulge showing faintly on your stomach,

your eyes rolled back as his pace became more frantic. “fuck sam! don’t stop, don’t stop!”

you pulled him closer, hands gripping him, his pace becoming uneven before he moaned loudly, stopping at the hilt as his cum spilled into you.

a warm sensation flooded your walls while he picked the speed back up. this sam didn’t need time to recover, in fact you both could go on for hours.

you almost drooled at how good it was, breasts rippling every time he pounded into you.

“cmon, baby, want you to cum on my cock,” he cooed, sounds getting wetter and louder before it took you over the edge.

you moaned high in your throat, mouth wide and eyes shut as he fucked you through it. you clenched around him hard, so hard that he came inside you again.

you gasped, you felt incredibly full. his skin stuck to yours, the quiet taking over when the bed finally stopped shaking.

sam groaned before slumping on top of you, his spend still leaking out around his softening cock.

a quiet spill of whines fell from his lips as his head buried into your neck, dick still twitching inside as you pulsed around him.

the way he fucked was animalistic, making sure every thrust was as deep as the last, filling you to the brim every time.

soulless or not, you guys were always made for each other.

sometimes he just had to remind you, and other times you’d remind him.

A/N WOW! i dont know how i feel about this because this type of possessive fic and language is something i've never explored before!! i hope i did your idea justice 🥹 the last line kinda opens up to the potential part two where soulless reader takes control so sub!soulless sam almost??? phew idk!! reblogs & comments are so appreciated!

You gingerly slit the tape with a knife, the hiss of parting plastic not doing anything to help your nerves. The box opened up to reveal crisp white tissue held together with special S.W. stationary that felt way too put together for a man. With more care than you would ever admit you peeled the sticker off, not wanting to tear what might be the most beautiful wrapping you've ever received. Behind the letter, a couple 5-packs of cotton panties sat inside, the all-compostable packaging and minimal lettering cluing you in that these were not the packs you could pick up at target. Not wanting to be rude, you opened the note before unpacking the parcel.

I hope you enjoy. If you like it when I take care of you, follow the directions inside of the smaller box.

-Doctor Sam

Smaller box? You removed the bundles to reveal something called 'sex oil,' a silk nightmask, and a lovense vibrator.

Your breath hitched. What the fuck? It wasn't just unexpected, it was fucking expensive. Your hands shook while as you picked it up, not quite believing that this was real. You never owned one, but knew that lovense products were mostly used for... remote pleasure. The seal on the box was broken, and when you found the note there you realized why. Along with the standard set-up instructions, he had included his username under another message. 'I will be alerted if you choose to give me control. I hope you find the structure as enjoyable as I believe it to be beneficial.'

You tore the item out of the packaging, absolutely no regard for it now that it wasn't Sam's hands who put it together. It was nothing too fancy, just a palm-sized external vibrator, but you looked at it like it held the answer to all of your life problems, and maybe it did. You frantically downloaded the app, pairing it and typing in his username for the invite as quickly as possible, but pausing with your finger hovering over the button. Not because you had changed your mind, but because you had no idea how this game was supposed to work. Would he expect you to play the moment you popped up on his screen? Would he text you to set up a time? You had to assume he had your phone number if he had your home address.

Your thoughts turned into a flurry, but you never once considered turning down his offer. Maybe it was a little strange, definitely unprofessional, but the structure he teased sounded... nice. Already the weight of something as simple as self-pleasure was lifted off of you. You wouldn't call yourself ashamed of it, but it felt like there was never 'the right' time or situation to start. Feeling guilty because you could be doing something productive, guilty because you had an early morning, guilty because it's the middle of the day and there has to be something more important to do than touching yourself.

Yes, you decided. This was perfect.

After an evening of scurrying about, you finally slid in bed to invite him. You had felt too keyed-up to relax, starting dinner and then cleaning and then showering because you couldn't decide what to do. You felt tired, but also at peace. For some inexplicable reason you felt your place had to be spotless, even though he had given no indication that he would be over at all, let alone tonight. The same went for your body, using every scrub and mask you had in sight.

Your thumb touched the screen, the button switching to say 'invited.' You sat there impatiently, feeling like something immediate was supposed to happen. While you waited you explored the app, noting where you could 'request control.' You held off, still anxious that somehow you had made a mistake and this is not what he meant for you to do at all. Without any input from you, the toy buzzed to life. Your breath hitched in anticipation, the action managing to surprise you even though it is exactly what you had expected.

You gingerly placed the toy against your mound, a soft sigh escaping you as the gentle vibrations hit your skin.

The toy shut off the moment your phone pinged, a message from an unknown number popping up.

Hope you had a good night, pretty girl. Take a deep breath, relax, and let me take care of you. All I need from you is to let me know when you finish, and if you'd like me to give you another one.

The vibrations started up again; he wanted your full attention on his words. They were rumblier, more expensive, than what you were used to, and the slide of the silicone against your folds felt divine. You were in no hurry, content to focus on the feeling of your brain shutting off. The toy increased in urgency, the vibrations ramping up in intensity. They were still gentle, but when you held it against your clit your back crept off the bed. You swirled it around your slit, an unexpected amount of slick gathering there.

Thinking about Sam's thumb rolling over his phone screen, his hand fisting his cock while he decides how quickly he wants you to find pleasure pulled a whimper from your mouth. The vibrations changed to a pattern, still mild but irregular enough that you knew he was controlling them himself.

The buzzing ramped down to something torturously slow, and you pressed the tip to your clit in hopes to keep your thread of pleasure. It remained slow, light, so you ground it down in a small circle, the vibrations and the tugging keeping you afloat. You felt close, way too close for how long it had been, and somewhere during your circles the intensity flared up. The increase yanked you over the edge, your mouth parting as the waves made their way through your body and your cunt clamped desperately around nothing.

Before the aftershocks were even over you were typing out a message.

Thank you. May I please have one more?

Your stomach panged with adrenaline as you sent the message, double-checking that you had included exactly what he'd asked. He played dirty, and you liked it. He ruined everything good that comes with a slow build-up, and it only made you crave more. The toy clicked off, and you eagerly watched the three dots on your screen.

So polite.

And in way of agreement, the toy flicked back on. You held it against your aching clit, the vibrations soothing the fiery want there. You were breathless from the little game he started, and though you kept your clit soothed you didn't use the same amount of pressure. You got nudged closer each time you had a lucid thought about your situation, and couldn't help but think about what the real thing is like if this is what he's capable of via text. Your muscles were hot with pleasure, your peak feeling so close when it shut off.

"No," you whined to yourself, the ebb of pleasure intensely frustrating. Unsurprisingly, your phone lit up.

Are you completely ready for bed?

Yes

Good girl. Get up and grab the mask I sent you, refill your water, use the bathroom, and wash and dry the toy. Then we can finish up.

Okay. Thank you

You wrote back as sweet as you could, and when you stepped out of bed your legs felt like jelly. You padded to the kitchen first, filling up your cup, before fetching your night mask and heading back to the bedroom. You just used some gentle handsoap on the toy, rinsing and drying it thoroughly before using the bathroom, all with a vicious ache between your legs. It was embarrassing, really, the way you walked about with sticky thighs, your mind not even considering the possibility of taking care of yourself. You settled back into bed, taking a sip of your water before responding

All done

I'm proud of you. We're doing it this way so you can go right to sleep after. Can you put the mask on for me?

Yeah, it's very nice. Thank you for sending it

Of course, sweet girl. Sleeping in the dark is better for you. Same as last time, let me know when you finish and if you want another.

Okay. Thank you

The toy powered back on, a mild wave setting this time. The cool sillicone immediately soothed your throbbing cunt, the gathered blood finally feeling less achy. You held it against yourself, Sam’s face drifting in your head, and then above you in a desperate thought. You thought about how his long fingers would inspect you so efficiently, the trained digits doing exactly what he sets his mind to. Of his broad shoulders and the way they would look marred from your fingernails. Of his oh-

Your back arched off the bed, the fire deep in your gut spreading through your limbs with a fervor you struggled to reach on your own. In a moment of weakness, you breathed out his name. Still feeling dizzy from your orgasm, and inexplicably brave you typed out a message that was different than your previous ones.

I came for you

Your others had been almost clinical, your brain focused only on being polite, as easy to take care of as possible, and completely inoffensive. In your haze, you wanted to say how you felt.

Good girl. Did you like this?

Yeah. I liked it a lot

It would make me very proud if you didn’t touch yourself without me.

I want you to be proud of me

Good. A perfect little thing like you deserves someone looking after her.

Your fingers hovered over your keypad, not even sure how to start a message in response. It almost made you nervous, the way he was telling you everything you want to hear. While you were deliberating on your response, Sam sent you an image. It was a picture of your panties, wound around those sinful fingers of his and completely soaked.

You chewed on your nails, a hot lick of desire shooting in your gut. It wasn’t just the image of his capable hands holding something of yours, it was the thought of him using something of yours in a way that was so primal, so perverted. All you wanted was more.

Can I still ask for another?

In the morning. Sweet dreams.

You stayed with Bobby for a couple of weeks after they left his house. He wasn’t the prying kind, but he was worried about you, and he knew Dean was too.

One night, after a few too many beers, he tried to get you to open up. “So, what happened between you and the boys?” He tried to sound as casual as possible, taking another swig of his beer at the end of his sentence.

“Nothing.” You forced a smile, attempting to shut down the conversation.

“You’ve been huntin’ with them for years, and now all of a sudden you want to break off?” Bobby’s eyebrow raised as he pressed you further. If casual wouldn’t do it, then turning on uncle mode surely would.

“I wanted to take some time off to see you.” You placed your hand on his back and gave him your best puppy eyed look.

“Do I have idjit written on my forehead?” He scowled, turning in his chair to face you completely. Your hand fell from his back as you huffed in annoyance and leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms.

“I just feel like I’m too dependent on them. I want to prove to myself that I can still do it alone if I have to.” You were not about to tell Bobby the real reason you ran off. The humiliation was too great, and you’d never hear the end of it.

 He sighed, defeated. “You’re breaking Dean’s heart.” You brought the beer bottle to your lips. “You’d be breaking Sam’s too, if he weren’t-“

“Soulless.” The beer bottle hit the table hard as you finished Bobby’s sentence for him, making the reason for your leaving clear.

“He got on your nerves, huh?” His expression eased.

“You could say that.” You mumbled. The answer raised a look of worry in the hunter’s face which had you waving your hands in front of your chest. “He didn’t do anything to me! It’s just- I need some time, Bobby. He’s not really Sam, and it’s starting to take a toll on me and our friendship - which doesn’t really even exist anymore.” The glum expression on your face showed him how much you were hurting. He knew how much you loved the boys; how inseparable you were, ever since you were kids. Making the decision to take some time away from them was surely painful, which meant the pain of being around this version of Sam could only be greater.

“Alright. I won’t press you further. We’ll find a solution to the Sam problem. In the meantime, stay as long as you need.” You leaned into the man you had called your uncle for years and hugged him, your hand coming around his stomach.

“Thank you, Bobby.”

“Anytime kiddo. I’m sure when Sam gets his soul back, he’ll understand.” I wouldn’t be so sure. The events of the past few months echoed through your mind, bringing back the anxiety of not knowing what would happen to your friendship if Sam did get his soul back. “That boy loves you, and so does Dean.”

His words made tears bloom in your eyes. “I know.” You whispered softly.

Following your conversation with Bobby, Dean still called; he still told you he missed you, though he stopped asking you about joining him and Sam on their hunts. Ever the good uncle, Bobby had called him. He reassured him, and made sure Dean would stop pressuring you to join them. “She needs some time, but she’ll come back. You can be sure of that.” He had said.

After two weeks with Bobby, you joined Rufus on a hunt. Despite his straightforwardness, impatience, and crankiness, you liked the man. He, on the other hand, seemed to tolerate you, much like he did Bobby, which basically meant he adored you. The case lasted about a week, and when you were done, it was finally time to go off on your own.

It had been about two months since you had last seen the Winchesters, when you got a call in the middle of the night. The phone rang loudly, filling the room with its blue light. You turned over and opened your eyes in a squint to read the caller’s name.

“Dean? Are you ok?” The panicked question came as quickly as you had answered.

“We did it. We got his soul back.” You immediately sat up.

“What? Where are you? Is he ok?”

“Bobby’s. He’s sleeping, we don’t know if he’ll wake up yet, but it’s done.” His voice was filled with emotion. You had promised Sam you’d still be there when he got his soul back, no matter what, and you were keeping that promise, even if only to be told to leave as soon as he saw you.

“I’m coming over. I’ll be there as quick as I can.” The call ended before he could reply, and you started packing in a hurry.

The drive from Georgia was long enough to fill you with dread. You weren’t even sure if Sam would wake up, and that thought clawed at your chest. A cloud of regret hovered over you. Had you seen him for the last time when you asked him to leave? Had that really been your last conversation? It felt like you were suffocating, and it made it hard to keep your head clear as you drove way above the speed limit.

You were about two hours away from Bobby’s when you got a text from Dean.

“He’s awake.”

The relief was so big you couldn’t help but scream, tears sliding down your face. You tried to calm down, remind yourself that now you knew he was ok. Nothing, however, was able to quell the fear you felt over what would happen when you got there.

You parked your car and, suddenly, the rush that had got you there dissipated, replaced by fear. The walk to the door was slow, and when you finally got there, you had to take a few deep breaths before knocking.

Dean got to the door quickly, and when he opened it, you were faced with the biggest smile you had ever seen on him, but it faded when he saw the look on your face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He stroked your hair and gave you a kiss on the forehead. “He’s okay. Come see.” He pulled you inside by the hand and guided you to the den. You froze when you saw him, and both Dean and Bobby watched the two of you.

“Oh, my god.” Sam took three long steps to reach you, pulled you in, and hugged you so tight he lifted you into the air. “You’re alive!” He said teary-eyed, putting you down but not letting go.

“A-alive?” The question came in a small voice.

“Of course. Remember how Lucifer snapped your and Bobby’s neck? Before Sammy threw himself in the pit with him and Michael?” Dean said from behind you.

“What?” You turned to look at him, incredulous.

Sam grabbed your face to turn you to him. “Dean told me Cas brought you guys back.” He held you against his chest, a caressing hand at the back of your head. “I thought I’d never see you again.” It took you a few seconds to process what was happening. When it finally dawned on you that not only was Sam himself again, but he also didn’t remember the past year and a half, you burst into tears.

“Sam…” You clung to him like you were afraid he’d disappear. “I’ve missed you so much.” The way you were sobbing made Sam well up.

“It’s ok. I’m here now.” You thought you’d never hear that soft, comforting tone again, not earnestly. You thought you’d never feel those sweet, gentle touches you had missed so much; the ones that crumbled your defenses so completely you said yes to a half version of him. The memory of it only made you cry more. Sam felt a pang in his chest over seeing you so distressed.

He pulled you toward the couch, sitting down and making sure you followed. His hand didn’t leave your back as Dean explained to you how he managed to get Death to bring Sam back with his soul. You knew there were lies between the truths he was telling, but you’d wait until you were alone with him to ask him about it. Honestly, it was hard to even focus on what Dean was saying. Sam was back, and he was absentmindedly caressing your back like the last year and a half hadn’t happened.

Sam still had quite a bit of sleep to catch up on, so when he went back to bed, Dean finally told you the entire truth. Death had put up a wall in Sam’s head to keep him from remembering his time in the cage, and apparently it had made him forget the time he had spent with no soul. Under no circumstances were he to scratch at that wall, so you all had to pretend like everything was fine and hadn’t been there until now.

After a few days of insisting he was okay, Dean finally accepted Sam’s request to get back to hunting, as long as they were relatively simple cases. The initial bliss of having him back was quickly tainted by your experiences with his soulless version. You found yourself staring far too often, which, thankfully, he and his brother chalked up to the fact that he was back (and himself). Whenever he got too close, you felt yourself freeze up, or sometimes even retracting to avoid being too obvious about his effect on you. But you kept doing your best to make sure your friendship was the same as it always had been.

Following those first weeks of adapting, you all started to fall back into your routine, and the constant longing to kiss him came under control, like it had been before the pit. None of you could quite believe it, but you truly were back to making jokes, teasing each other, fighting over who got the FBI badge with the coolest name, and having long drives with loud singing.

Something started creeping back into Sam’s mind, though; that curiosity he had always pushed down so hard. He couldn’t even call it curiosity anymore, it was desire, and he knew it. It seemed to have grown tenfold in comparison to the time before he went to hell. A whiff of your perfume and he forgot what he was saying. If he allowed himself to look at you for too long, he stopped listening. Whenever you smiled with your face too close to him, he wanted nothing more than to pull you in and kiss you. But worst of all, those dirty, shameful thoughts he had from time to time started getting more and more frequent.

Sam turned in his bed to look over at Dean, who was sound asleep. He got up quietly and made his way to the chair his jacket was hanging from. Pulling out a key from its pocket, he left the room and made his way down the motel corridor. When he got to room 214, he took the key and unlocked the door, quietly making his way inside. It was dark, the only source of light being the crescent moon outside, and he saw a woman sleeping, facing away from him. Carefully, he stepped into bed and began caressing her arms, pulling her hair out of the way so he could kiss her neck. Her breaths became somewhat deeper, and she slowly began to wake up when his hand snaked up her shirt to find her breast.

“Sam?” She mumbled. Her voice was familiar.

“Told you I’d come and find you.” His hand slid down to squeeze her thigh, before he brushed his fingers over her underwear, making her sigh. “I still need to get a proper taste of you.” His fingers pressed lightly against her clit, and the moan she released as her hand found the back of his neck was so sweet, he found himself melting against her. He hooked his fingers around the waistband of her underwear and gently removed it. Pulling her shirt up to her ribs, Sam began kissing down her side, nipping here and there, until he reached her upper thigh. Her hand was now grasping the hair at the top of his head as he pulled her hip back and placed himself between her legs. She was dripping already, but he wanted – no – needed to take his time.

“God, I’ve missed this.” He said, finally beginning a trail of soft kisses that began at the inside of one thigh and ended on the other.

She giggled, another familiar sound. “It’s only been a week.” The giddiness in her tone vanished completely, replaced by little whines, when Sam gave her lips a small lick, followed by a soft kiss. “I thought you- couldn’t even- miss things.” She said in between moans.

“Oh, believe me. I know I’ve missed this.” His teasing fingers brushed against her core, making goosebumps form on her skin. Finally, he licked a slow, tortuous stripe up her folds, at which her grip on his hair tightened momentarily.

“Hmm, Sam…” He dove further into her, working his tongue to find what made her writhe and whine.

“Fuck- you taste like heaven, angel.” Sam was lost in the feeling of her grinding against his face, kissing, licking and suckling everywhere that got her to moan for him. Eventually, the grip on his hair started to become tighter, her breaths were getting ragged, and her whimpering louder.

“Sam- please- don’t stop.” She begged. He could tell she was getting closer, and he needed to see her come apart. His tongue kept circling her clit as he held her thighs closer to him, raising his gaze to admire what he was about to accomplish. When his eyes finally focused, trying to see through the weak moonlight, he saw your pretty, parted lips, your delicious, scrunched expression, and the quick rise and fall of your beautiful chest.

Sam woke with a gasp, immediately sitting up. The dull light that came just before dawn gave the shabby motel room a blueish tint. He rubbed his eyes, confused by his surroundings, and saw Dean still sleeping on the bed beside him. It felt so real. There were droplets of sweat running down his forehead, and he felt uncomfortably aroused. He tried to take a cold shower so he could get his mind off it, but the dream wouldn’t stop replaying in his mind. Every detail felt like he had been there, down to how you smelled. The more he tried to forget, the more it all stuck to his mind. How would he be able to face you? The truth was, he wasn’t. Not really.

That morning, when you joined the boys to go for breakfast at the diner, Sam could barely look at you. When he did, all he could picture was your bare skin against his, skin he had never even seen. He tried to get a grip, and you and Dean thought he was just having an off day. You tried not to press too much, afraid it would damage the wall Death had put up, and he eventually managed to get it more so together. The problem was that this wouldn’t be the first time he dreamed of you.

Every time Sam felt like he finally had himself under control, another dream would come to remind him of the shameful cravings he couldn’t seem to shake off. The worst of it was how worked up he got. Between visions of kissing, grinding, sweating, and moaning, he had to find a way to relieve himself, or he would go mad. He held on as much as he could, but every now and again, the dreams would be too intense, or you touched him a little too much, and he caved when he got to the shower. Those were his worst days. Having to act like everything was completely normal while an ignominious fire burned inside him only made him feel more unclean, disgraceful.

You and the Winchesters had gone down to Kansas to work a case on what appeared to be a haunting. The motel you were staying at only had one room available, so you all had to stay together. Sam was terrified of the idea of sleeping next to you, not only because of how you made him feel, but also because of the possibility of having another one of his dreams and freaking you out. He played rock paper scissors with Dean to figure out who would share the bed with you knowing full well he’d beat his brother, as always.

When night came, he felt anxious about allowing himself to fall asleep. What if he started moaning? What if he said your name? Dean had already mocked him a few times for the state he woke up in, or the sounds he had made in his sleep. The last thing he needed was having that happen in front of you. The problem was, although he didn’t know it, he still had a lot of sleep to catch up on, so staying up all night wasn’t an option. When he finally drifted off, the dream he had was different than the others.

He was on a hunt, judging by the gun in his hand and the shabby place he was sneaking about in. He heard a scream and immediately bolted in its direction. When he rounded the corner of the run-down farm, you were on the ground being clawed at by a werewolf, which he quickly shot dead. Next thing he knew, he was sitting beside you in a motel room bed. There was a huge gash on your leg, and he was carefully stitching it up. After that, everything was a haze. He was in the shower, touching and kissing you; then you were in bed, dripping wet, wiping droplets of water off each other. The last thing he saw before waking up was you under him, saying his name in between moans.

This time, thankfully, he woke up gently, his eyes flickering open. You and Dean were on the bed beside his. His brother was face down, snoring, and you were sleeping with your pillow over your head, probably to cover the noise. He took the chance to have a cold shower before the two of you woke up, and while he did, he tried to convince himself this dream was a sign that his pervertedness was subsiding. Just like the others, it felt real, like he was there. But this one wasn’t simply about sex. It had elements of real life: hunting, getting injured, him patching you up like the good friend he is, or should be. Sam focused on that aspect of the dream throughout the rest of the morning, using it as a shield between him and this burden he felt so eager to be rid of.

He was already nose deep in a book, and Dean was knotting the tie on his FBI suit, when you walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

“Shit, forgot my clothes.” You made your way to your duffle bag, dug out your FBI suit, along with your socks and underwear, and were about to walk back into the bathroom when Sam stopped you.

“Where did you get that scar?” It was exactly like the one in his dream, and he knew for a fact he had never seen it, much less stitched it up.

You looked down at your calf, where he was pointing, and immediately got flustered. “Uh, I – Hunting. Obviously.” You avoided looking Sam in the eye, and he knew something was up.

“When?”

“I don’t know, six months ago? Why?” You held your clothes close to your chest for a semblance of comfort in the face of a sudden inquiry.

“And who stitched it up?” He continued.

“I did, who else?” Dean answered before you could, turning away from the mirror and towards you two. “Why, you admiring my work? I can give you some pointers if you want.” He gave his brother a smug look.

Sam paused for a moment. Something was definitely up, and neither you or Dean would be giving him answers. “Yeah, actually. I wondered because I’ve seen your handy work before. You’ve improved a lot while I was gone.”

“Yeah, well, you know me, Sammy. I just keep getting better.” The older Winchester smirked. “Anyway, if that’s all, will you let the lady get dressed so we can go the precinct? Not everyone wants to stay in reading, like you.” You hurried to the bathroom, thankful to Dean for saving your ass. You were usually good at lying, but sometimes, mostly with Sam, it was like your brain just couldn’t come up with a story.

He waited about five minutes after you and his brother were gone, before he decided to call someone he knew wouldn’t even think of lying unless he was told to.

“Castiel - uhm – I’m back! So, if you’ve got a minute…” He looked behind him to check if his prayer had work, but there was nobody there. When he turned back around, Cas was standing before him.

“Sam.” He cocked his head; a stern expression painted his face. “It’s so good to see you alive.”

“Yeah, you too.” Sam smiled at the angel. He hadn’t seen him since Lucifer had blown him to bits, and he was thankful to see that his brother’s favorite heavenly creature was alright. Cas walked closer to him, slowly opening his arms, and Sam accepted the angel’s embrace. After a few seconds of awkwardly hugging, he pulled away. “So- crazy year!” He huffed. “I just, uh, talked to Dean this morning, and he told me everything that happened.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised that you survived” Sam’s eyes shot to the angel, wide in surprise. “I begged him not to do it.”

“Yeah – no – I-I understand.” He nodded.

“You know, it’s a miracle it didn’t kill you.” Cas was monotone, as usual.

“Yeah- yeah it’s a miracle alright…” The younger Winchester stared at the floor, trying to hide his confused look.

“So, how does it feel?” A small, awkward smile appeared in Cas’s lips.

Sam looked back up at him, his eyebrows scrunched. “What?”

“Well, to have your soul back, of course.” The angel squinted.

Sam was aghast. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to find what to say. “Right- you mean, ‘cause I was- walking around with no soul…” He took a deep breath as he tried to process what he had just been told and tried to find an answer to Cas’s question. “Uh – Really good, Cas. I’m really good.” He nodded quickly. “You know, I’m just… a bit hazy on some of the details, though. You think you could… walk me through?”

“Why, of course.” He sat at the table, facing Sam, and began telling him everything he knew.

As soon as Cas left, Sam let out a panicked gasp. He had barely spent any earthly time in the cage, where his soul had been left to suffer at the hands of Michael and Lucifer. Instead, his body and mind had spent the last year and a half strutting around doing God knows what without it. On top of that, he wasn’t even supposed to try to remember it, because Death had put up a wall in his mind to protect him from the torture his soul had gone through. If that wall collapsed, there was no telling what would happen.

Sam paced around the room, sweating, shaking, panting. It was impossible to sit still, so he put on his workout gear and went for a run to try to process everything instead of sitting in the motel room panicking. The truth was, he hadn’t been trying to remember anything; he didn’t even know there was anything to remember. He thought about the dreams he had been having, how real they felt. There’s no way. Maybe he had spent the last year with no soul, hunting with you and Dean, maybe he had even saved you from a werewolf and stitched you up, but there was no way he had actually slept with you – more than once.

By the time he finally got back to the motel, the Impala was already parked outside. Sam took a deep breath before entering the room, and he found Dean sitting by the table with his arms crossed. “So, we spend our day working our asses off to find out what body needs to be burned and where it is, all so Mr. Fitness can go for a little jog?” He accused. “Did you even find anything at all?”

The younger Winchester sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Sorry, man. I just- I felt a bit off, needed to clear my head.” His brother shot up out of his seat and quickly made his way to him.

“What do you mean you felt off? What’s wrong?” He grabbed Sam’s shoulder, looking alarmed.

“Nothing, just felt a bit restless, needed to move a bit to settle down.” If he told him what he had found out, not only would Dean freak out, but Sam would also have to explain who gave him the details and how he thought to call Cas in the first place. That was a can of worms he wasn’t willing to open.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, man. I’m all good now.” He looked around and found no sign of you. “Where is she?”

“Went to the library to pick up a map of the old graveyard so we can salt and burn that son of a bitch, and get outta here.”

“That was quick.” Sam huffed.

“Told you, Sammy. Nothing but simple cases for a while. I want to enjoy having my little brother back without having to be scared some creature’s gonna gank his ass.” He said with a firm pat to Sam’s back.

Learning he had spent over a year with no soul wouldn’t have been so hard for Sam if he could actually remember what he had done. But the fact that so far all he had to go on was a bunch of sex dreams and the realization he had stitched you up once was the absolute worst scenario he could imagine. And it was about to get worse.

Dean had gone out to a bar for some fun before you guys started looking for your next case, while you and Sam stayed home researching, as usual. He hadn’t had any dreams since learning about his soullessness, but he had been avoiding you, having reduced your interactions to discussions of lore, cases, Dean, and routine stuff. You could tell, he knew you could, and it was starting to take a toll on you. He wouldn’t even sit at the table with you while you read, sticking to his own bed, on the opposite end of the room.

The way he was acting was eating at you, and you couldn’t, for the life of you, figure out what you had done. You had been on your best behavior lately, never once allowing yourself to gaze at him for too long or get too distracted by him. Surely, you weren’t making him uncomfortable?

“Sam?” You looked up from your book at the man lying on the bed.

“Hm?” He hesitated, finishing the sentence he was reading before looking back at you.

“Have I done something?” The question came out small, but he heard it nonetheless.

“What?” Oh no. Sam wasn’t ready for this conversation. He had no idea what to say, how to reassure you without letting his greatest iniquities take over his mind.

You got up from your chair and walked towards him, slowly. He put down the book as he watched you approach. “A-are we okay? Have I done something wrong?” You stopped beside him, at the edge of the bedside, your hands fidgeting.

“N-no! Of course not.” His hands found support on the mattress beneath him so he could sit up straighter.

“Are you sure? I feel like you’ve been avoiding me or something.” You were doing your best to stay calm, but your eyes were already getting glassy. Sam noticed and let out a sigh, taking your hand so you’d sit down beside him.

“Everything’s fine, seriously.” He shut his eyes. “I’ve just been feeling a little ti- AH!” There was a sharp pain to the right side of his head, which he clung to as he doubled over.

The motel room was lit by a small bedside lamp; its warm light bathed your soft skin, casting shadows where it couldn’t reach. This time, you were sleeping peacefully in nothing but your soft burgundy underwear, stomach down, an arm under your pillow. Sam reached for the polaroid camera in your bag, something you insisted on carrying around. He got on his knees at the edge of the bed and snapped a picture. One of your legs was raised up toward your chest, giving him room get between them and move closer. His hand slid up the back of your thigh to cup your butt cheek, before he gave it a squeeze that made you sigh in your sleep. Keeping his hand in place, he took another picture; something to look at when he was all by himself. Unlike you, he didn’t sleep now, so the nights could get long and boring. He put the polaroid back into your bag and returned to the edge of the bed. Kneeling down between your legs again, he wondered what it was about you that always made him return. Sure, you were a good time, a great time even, but so were many other women. Maybe it was the way you smelled, or the way you said his name. Maybe it was the fact that he had restrained himself for so long, or that he enjoyed seeing your resolve crumble every time he touched you. Whatever it was, it didn’t really matter, so long as he got to touch you.

Leaning in closer to glide his hands over your hips and waist, he laid a kiss to your lower back, at which you stirred, bringing your leg back down and releasing a soft moan. He had already put you through enough for that night, hence why you were sleeping so heavily. Sam gently hooked his fingers around your underwear, keeping his eyes on your face to make sure you stayed sound asleep, and slowly slid it down your legs, removing it completely. Once he had collected all his tokens, he gave your thigh one last squeeze and left your room.

“Sam? Sam!” As he came back to, Sam felt your hands around his face, tapping him lightly as you called for him in a panic. His eyes blinked open and widened when he became aware of his surroundings again.

“Wh- what?” He was remembering things. It had felt like the visions he used to have, only more real, like he had been through it already.

“Oh my god, what happened? Are you ok? I’m calling Dean.” You turned away to reach for your phone, but Sam quickly grabbed your arm to stop you.

“No! Don’t.” His eyes scrunched closed, blinking several times to try to settle back into reality. “I’m okay.” There was a flush to his cheeks, and his pupils were blown.

“Okay? Sam you just passed out!” Your hand reached for his face again, his skin was warm and clammy.

“Please, I just- I think I’ve been doing too much. I just need some sleep and I’ll be fine.” His other hand grabbed your free wrist. “Please, promise me you won’t tell Dean. He’ll freak out and lock me up at Bobby’s for months.” You looked down at his pleading eyes, the hands around your wrists, and paused for a moment.

“I promise not to tell him. But only if you take some time off from working cases. Just skip this next one, at least.” You negotiated.

“I –“ The stern look on your face told him arguing was pointless. “Fine. I’ll tell him tomorrow morning.” He let go of you, and as soon as he did his gaze turned away. “Can I go and get some sleep now?” He clearly didn’t want you there, and you hadn’t even gotten a proper answer to your question. Nonetheless, you conceded.

“Ok... I’ll be in my room if you need me.” You got up and picked up your things so you could leave. “Goodnight, Sam.” He noted the sadness in your voice.

“Goodnight.”

As soon as you walked away from the door and he couldn’t hear your steps anymore, Sam ran to his duffle bag. He had built a little compartment under its sturdy bottom where he kept the things he didn’t want Dean to find. If what he had just seen had really happened, that’s where he would find the proof.

He took his belongings out of the way, removing them from the bag completely, and started fiddling to find the Velcro under a seam that held the slit shut. Once he found it, he lifted the panel at the bottom of the bag and shoved his hand underneath it. His breath froze. Sam pulled his hand out of the secret compartment, and in it was a pair of burgundy underwear, and the exact pictures he had seen himself take.