The chapters in this will all be one shots for the character Sam Winchester from the show Supernatural.
This particular one shot is based on the song Scared to be Lonely sung by Dua Lipa.
Please be kind and leave a review with your thoughts.
warnings: mentions of death, smut (fem receiving and unprotected sex [wrap it up people]), arguing
SCARED TO BE LONELY | S.W.
The night you and Sam met was a night to remember. It seemed your luck had run out and your '72 Mustang sputtered for the last time. Such a shame as the car was absolutely beautiful; it also had belonged to your mother who had passed away from cancer when you were barely legal to drink. Leaving you stranded in the middle of the covered highway, you pulled out your phone to call your job, making sure they were aware of the situation. Being the manager of a bar allotted you much freedom, and you enjoyed working at the 'hole in the wall' bar located in the middle of nowhere. You knew the patrons and they knew you; like a weird tight knit-family, much like the town.
Lately much of the conversations rotated around the recent disappearances. Nothing bad happened in Bellgrove, New Hampshire besides the occasional juvenile auto theft or home invasion; missing residents was too rare for the town to not harp on about it - but you grew tired of it all. Of course you cared about the people of your town, but like listening to a broken record shuffle through the same five lyrics, you wanted silence.
Sitting in your broken down car, your hand raised to shield your eyes from the bright headlights shone your way. "You really didn't have to leave the bar to come get me." Assuming it was one of your employees, you grabbed your purse and made your way toward the car. That when it dawned on you; you hadn't given your location to them when you spoke over the phone. When they had exited their vehicle you were right in realizing it wasn't Kastin or Jennifer coming in your rescue.
"Need some help?" The moose-like man hovered over you, standing almost a foot taller. You nodded your head, speech suddenly lost somewhere between the brain and mouth. "Let's take a look." He instructed you to pop the hood, and like a good little girl, you listened, watching him intently as his light eyes scanned over the mechanics of the car. After a few minutes of his inspection of the car and your inspection of him, the man straightened his back, dodging the hood.
"From what I can see, you're going to be putting a lot more money into it than what it's worth." An audible grown vibrated through your throat, a sudden wave of sadness washing over you. "If no one is coming I can drop you off wherever you need to be?" Looking up to him, you foolishly accepted his offer, following behind him to slid into his car. It was a '67 Chevy Impala; it sounded beautiful and up to date. Curiosity coursed through your veins; who was this man? And why hadn't you seen him before? It was then when your common sense kicked in gear and the voice in the back of your head warned you - echoing the words from the bar patrons about the disappearances.
"Are you a car enthusiast?" you asked, shifting your gaze to his to watch him closely. You felt your adrenaline begin to rush; the blood pumping through your ears and your breathing began to quicken.
"Not so much as my brother. This was his car," he answered softly with no indicating factors of an underlying agenda.
"My condolences." The man met your gaze, his brows tugged together. "I'm assuming he passed away from your use of past tense speech." He said nothing the rest of the car ride toward the bar, but rather focused on his breathing.
"When he reached the bar, you witnessed his eyes sparkle. "Would it be weird if I went in with you?" he asked, mumbling his inquiry.
"Not at all," you answered quickly. "I work here so, to show my gratitude for the lift, drinks are on the house." And what you thought would be just another night of ghost stories and numbers, turned out to be an eventful night with, who you later learned was, Sam Winchester, an out-of-towner just passing through. He was funny, charming and had a smile that could stop traffic and it seemed you couldn't tear your eyes away.
One thing led to another and he ended up lying on his back on your bed, with you riding his dick as if it was the last thing you were ever going to do. He filled you up like no other, touched you, kissed you as if you were his life line to the world. Despite his animalistic, yet gentle nature at night, he stayed just as polite and respectful when the sun rose to welcome the new day.
it was great at the very start, hands on each other
couldn't stand to be far apart, closer the better
From the very beginning, Sam Winchester would accompany you to the bar, not as a patron (initially) but to work as the maintenance guy during the night. If the jukebox wasn't working, he'd fix it, if a toilet clogged, he'd fix it, if a hose line wasn't working, he'd brave the basement and fix it. It was a blessing to have someone handy as him around the bar, even more so, you'd reap the benefits. It wasn't uncommon to be sitting in the back office looking over figures or sorting the schedule when Sam would casually slip in, locking the door behind him.
You giggled, watching as he made his way toward you; like a predator stalking his prey. You loved seeing the sparkle in his eyes darken, you loved the feeling of his large hand slithering behind your neck and his lips hungrily slamming upon yours. He was such a sweet person with a golden heart, but the way he dominated you, easily tearing you from the chair and roughly placing you on the desk made you realize he had a hidden devil within him. Everything seemed to move so quickly and before you knew it, your shirt was hanging off your desk chair and Sam's lips were trailing down your cleavage, nibbling and sucking his way lower. With your own hands working at his shirt, his lips parted from yours briefly to allow the fabric to be ripped over his head. "Turn around," he instructed; you happily obliged.
Hopping onto your feet, you turned your back to him, placing your palms flat against your desk. Using his foot, Sam tapped yours, silently commanding for you to open up more. He then placed his hands on either side of your hips, trailing them down to grip onto the bottom of your skirt, pulling the material up, exposing your ass. "No underwear tonight?" he asked, surprised.
"Makes it all the more easier for you, baby," you moaned, feeling him gripping onto your cheeks. Hovering over you, he then placed lingering kisses behind your ear, his hand lowering to palm your sex. With the events transpiring, you were already soaked for him; Sam growled as his fingers easily glided through your folds, making circles over your throbbing clit. Letting out another moan, Sam took it as a sign to continue, entering a single digit within you.
"Never gets old," Sam whispered, his teeth nibbling lightly on your earlobe as he slipped another finger. Slowly he began to tease you, rocking you slowly with him as he continued his mission. You moaned loudly, earning a clasped hand over your mouth. "Don't want to be too loud, darling." Pulling his long fingers from you, Sam then lowered to his knees, placing both hands on either side of your hips. "Such a pretty pussy." This alone caused a shiver to run down your spine, making goosebumps trail down your legs as Sam's fingertips glided down to your ankles, back up to cup your ass.
Without instruction, Sam dove in, licking one long stride from your core to your ass, forcing a gasp to escape your lips. "Fuck," you groaned, your eyes rolling closed from the sensation. He repeated his movements, making the strides slowly to tease the ever living hell out of you, pulling your lips apart to reach his tongue deeper. His tongue swirled and massaged your clit, devouring what was his.
With him working below, you tried your best to keep the strength in your legs by leaning your elbows on the desk, holding onto the ledge to hold yourself up; but your legs were shaking as you were close to your edge and Sam could feel this. He rose - undoing his belt and his pants, pulling his rock hard dick out using it to continue to massage you. You let out another moan from the feeling of his cock on your sensitive skin. "Fuck me Sam," you beg, pushing your ass against him.
"With pleasure." Suddenly you felt his length pulling at your walls, stretching you to lengths no other man was able to get you to. A loud moan escaped your throat as Sam wrapped his large palm around your throat, pulling you against his chest so he was holding onto you tightly.
now we're picking fights and slamming doors
magnifying all our flaws
"Samuel Winchester, if you walk out that door we are done!" He said nothing, not even one last glance your way, as his massive hand hovered over the knob. He didn't want to leave but he knew it was the only way to protect the only person he loved the most. With the voices in his head telling him to leave, Sam blocked out your pleas; he twisted the knob and walked through the door, leaving you speechless … only for a moment. From behind your back, you tightened your grip against the keys to the Impala you swiped without Sam noticing. A conniving smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you watched Sam, through the window, turn on his heel and march back into the house.
"Where are my keys?" Sam slammed the door behind him, dropping his bags to the floor.
"It's not my responsibility to keep track of them," you barked, keeping the keys behind you.
"Y/N, give them to me," he demanded, taking steps toward you.
"I told you, you're not leaving me."
"You are so stubborn! Give me my keys, I'm not going to ask again!"
"What are you going to do?" You took a pause, waiting for him to answer. "That's what I thought! Nothing! 'Cause you're pathetic."
"Says the one who is afraid of being alone. That's why you don't want me to leave; you're afraid you would have finally chased everyone away!"
"I don't want you to leave because I love you, Sam!"
"You're incapable of loving anyone but yourself!"
and i wonder why, wonder what for
why we keep coming back for more
Sam had been gone for three months and it was just starting to become okay. You knew after the most recent fight things were never going to be the same; he wasn't coming back. His phones were all disconnected, none of his belongings stayed behind and you could no longer hear the faint roar of the Impala coasting the driveway.
That night you decided to stay in and enjoy the comfort of your own company. With a few candles lit and a bowl of popcorn in your lap, you covered your face from the horror movie chosen for entertainment. It was during the booming climactic scene where you missed the familiar roar from the Impala engine, but you didn't miss the sound of knuckles against your front door. "Who the?" you mumbled to yourself, pausing the movie. Pulling the curtain back from the door, you were surprised to see Sam's puppy eyes staring down at you, his hands carrying his luggage. A part of you refused to let him in, allowing the opportunity to be hurt by his words again. But you had a soft side for the man, and knew the door would always open whenever he came to apologize.
"Do you still love me?" he asked for the millionth time.
"Always."
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