Helpless Victim / Sam Winchester
— GHOSTFACE!SAMWINCHESTER X READER ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
🩸👻📞
summary: As the geek he is, Sam offers to watch Scream (1996) while his brother rants about a bad date. With Halloween just around the corner, Sam suggests they play a little game of hide and seek one evening.
taglist; @park-simphwa , @angzls , @hobiespick , @axolotllover225
ps: english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar errors! enjoy xo'
The night was supposed to be just for the two of you. Sam mused about this when Dean’s date turned out to be worse than any of his corny pickup lines. In fact, Dean had rambled on about how terrible his date was, clinging to him when all he wanted with his date to be— was a one-night stand. Now, here you were with Sam, browsing the DVD shelves while he wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck. His lips brushed against your skin, his breath growing heavier with each kiss. Sam had definite plans. Which you couldn’t help but chuckle at his own clinginess. Protesting before he ventured a little further, "Not now,” and could’ve sworn feel his lips forming into a pout.
Dean, on the other hand, had generously insisted on bringing food back from the restaurant to snack on. His excuse? He needed something to distract himself emotionally, of course. And despite his constant complaints, at least his provision of food was useful for both Sam and you while you all watched a movie. "Help me choose a movie, will you?" Sam sighed irritably as he loosened his grip on your waist, his shadow falling over you as his arm brushed against you. "There," you knew he didn't care about the choice of movie. As long as his older brother didn't throw a tantrum, "Scream 1996?"
You glanced up at him, one eyebrow arched at his suggestion. It was odd, considering Sam was never one to seek out horror movies, let alone suggest one. Yes, he was a movie buff, but he never admitted to liking this genre. Who could blame him, with the constant haunts, encounters with the King of Hell, and even being possessed by the Devil himself? His past traumas were undeniable. You shrugged it off, thinking it was a way to distract Dean, keeping him completely engrossed in the movie while Sam managed to keep you close. And it worked.
As night settled in, Sam had one arm wrapped around you, the other holding a burger. You, Sam, and Dean were watching a movie together. You couldn't believe it had worked; just a few minutes earlier, Dean, exhausted and unable to finish his meal, had fallen asleep, leaving just you and Sam. "Oh, would you look at that," Sam purred in your ear, gently licking his fingers after finishing his burger. Hearing your chuckle, he seized the opportunity to take you in his arms and lean in for a kiss. Just in time before Sam’s favorite scene of the movie came. Leaving your lips tender and pouty—a look Sam found undeniably adorable. “Hey, what about the distraction ugh?” you said slightly offended.
Sam couldn't deny how irresistible you looked beside him, especially when you didn't beg for him to kiss every inch of your exposed skin. Despite your obvious pout, his attention shifts back to the TV screen, where the iconic scene of Billy and Stu covered in blood was playing. Something struck him then—he recalled overhearing you once confess your attraction to masked men, thanks to Charlie loudly affirming it when you both thought you were alone. Sam had overheard the entire conversation and couldn't help but smirk, mentally taking notes.
"You know..." his voice sang in your ears, mesmerizing you with its delicate attention while his focus remained on the screen. "I have an offer," he said, instantly piquing your curiosity. With Dean now completely engrossed in his slumber, you weren't surprised that Sam would eventually become co*cky. Tilting your head innocently, you replied, "Ask then," mirroring his tone but with a hint of curiosity in your voice. A smirk was obvious as his lips curved.
He chuckled, his voice raspier and more intense than usual, as his jaw tightened and the screams and cries of terror echoed in the background. His fingers traced a path down your chin, firm as he leaned in closer. Your lips barely touched, enticing you to kiss him right then. It was difficult to resist, and Sam was well aware of his effect. "Ever thought about adding a little excitement?" he asked with confidence, assuring you that it was completely okay if you didn't.
"Spice things up?" you repeated, your curiosity piqued more than he had anticipated. Initially, he worried you might take offense, but now he let out a soft, confident chuckle, his smirk widening. "I might have overheard your conversation with Charlie the other day..." he admitted, his fingers gently rubbing the back of his neck, prepared to back off if necessary. Eavesdropping wasn't his best move, but to his relief, you listened.
"Sam," you reassured him softly, your fingers gently caressing his cheeks. His arms wrapped around you, toying with the ruffled edge of your skirt. "And was watching Scream part of the offer?" you teased, adding a playful comment. You weren't entirely wrong, given his frequent observations of your horror movie marathons, though he didn't know about your particular fascination with Ghostface. "Then how about we play a game?" you suggested, your voice a melodic whisper in his ears. He almost moaned as you leaned in closer, your fingers trailing down his chest. But he stopped you abruptly. Oh, he wasn't about to let you take control—especially not tonight. "No, no, no, darling. I choose the game."
You snorted and rolled your eyes, playing the role of a petulant brat. "Fine, Mr. Ghostface." The nickname sparked his desire, and he struggled to maintain control as his eyes darkened. "How about we play hide and seek?" he teased, his tone making your knees weak. The thought of a game spanning the entire bunker thrilled you, and you nodded eagerly. "And look at this," he said, holding up the Ghostface mask. You couldn't help but laugh at his attempt to act nonchalant.
"Run, in one, two," his voice grew heavier with each passing moment, signaling he was fully embracing his role. He gave you ample time to dart around the bunker, uncovering hiding spots you had never noticed before. Completely immersed in the game, you chose to play the helpless victim, just like in the movies.
Your footsteps echoed on the marble floor as Sam donned the Ghostface costume, clutching a fake knife—the kind you’d find in a Halloween store. He wanted to add excitement without causing you any harm. Picking up the phone, he knew you’d be near one. When it rang and you saw who was calling, you played your role a little too seriously. “Hello?” your voice was soft, just the way he liked it.
“Who is this?” His familiar voice was slightly deeper this time. You knew Sam was hidden nearby as you walked around your hiding spot. “Who are you trying to reach?” he chuckled, clearly trying to replicate the movie scene, adding to the immersion that Sam loved to encourage. “What number is this?” Hearing his voice made your knees weak, and Sam definitely knew it. You could almost sense his co*ckiness coming through the other line.
“What number are you trying to reach?” Reciting the exact lines from the movie elevated the immersion to another level, piquing your curiosity about Sam’s location. Out of the two of you, he knew the bunker inside out and could find your hiding place in a blink. “I don’t know,” he continued, his voice now more hoarse and passionate. His close proximity was evident, especially from the echo through the phone. “I think you have the wrong number,” you replied, mimicking Casey’s exact tone. You mirrored the smirk Sam likely wore, even catching a faint chuckle from him on the other end.
“Do I?” His question was tempting, almost teasing, and you felt your cheeks warm at the thought of it. The idea of being chased made your pulse quicken—it was all fun and games, right? “It happens, take it easy,” you teased back, your voice playful through the phone.
By the time you hung up and slipped the phone back into your pocket, you tried to distract your mind, knowing it would ring again soon. Sam decided to venture further into the bunker. Since you weren't in the library or hiding in the kitchen, his third guess was your bedroom. He was right. Hearing your footsteps echo in the hallways, he hid in a nearby room, leaving the door slightly ajar to watch you. Then, he dialed your number again.
Just as you were about to distract yourself, the phone rang again. A sigh of frustration threatened to escape as you answered, a hint of annoyance in your voice. Sam's voice, like a lingering memory from the movie, played in your mind. "Hello," you said, and a smile crept onto Sam's face as he watched your obvious irritation, finding it oddly adorable. "I'm sorry, I think I dialed the wrong number," he said, hearing your scoff on the other end. "Then why did you dialed it again?" you retorted, teasingly, feeling as if Sam's voice was closer this time. The echoes of his voice through the phone were clearer now, indicating he was nearby.
"So why did you dial it again?" another scoff escaped you. "To apologize," he purred, his words causing your cheeks to blush a deeper shade of pink, a sight he didn't have time to fully appreciate. He noticed how your fingers hesitated on the phone, and how you tried to recall the exact lines. Which didn’t help, considering Sam's bulge began to be clearly visible under his Ghostface costume, and he knew he couldn't hold back much longer. "Bye now," you said, ending the call abruptly.
"Wait-Wait don't hang up," he pleaded, a smile playing at the corners of your lips, fully aware that Sam's act was just beginning. Who knew he had so many tricks up his sleeve? "I want to talk to you for a second," he added, chuckling. Oh, how he longed to hear your soft laugh, mimicking perfectly your role as the helpless victim. "You've got a hundred numbers for that. See ya," he replied before hanging up again.
Sam's arousal intensified, despite his efforts to resist. Watching you hang up the phone and walk away only fueled his desire. His breath grew heavier as his fingers traced down his body, nearing his pants, where he gripped his bulge. Tilting his head back, moaning your name, hoping you wouldn't come near his hiding place. However, his hopes were dashed when he noticed you leaving your room. If you were going to play your part, it meant heading to the kitchen to make popcorn.
He followed, keeping a distance in the hope of avoiding detection, until he found refuge in one of the closets. Dean was still asleep, and you were careful not to make much noise as you moved about. Sam couldn't help but stifle a laugh when you glanced over at his older brother, hoping not to wake him up. Another ring interrupted the silence. "Hello?" This time, your voice was slightly pitched, with an innocence that Sam found all too endearing. "Why don't you want to talk to me?" he asked, his tone slightly offended. You couldn't help but chuckle slightly at his pouty expression.
"Who is this?" you asked, feigning a slight fright, a part of the game Sam had confessed to enjoying a few days ago. "You tell me your name, I'll tell you mine," he countered. Another scoff escaped you. "I don't think so." Sam couldn't help but relish hearing you playfully act like a brat. It meant later, a punishment or two wouldn't hurt.
"What's that noise?" Sam asked, focusing this time on the sound of popping corn. "Popcorn," you replied, noticing his furrowed brows. "You're making popcorn?" he questioned. You hummed in agreement. "I only eat popcorn at the movies," he remarked, his voice now huskier, knowing it would turn you on. It worked, evidenced by the small mistake you made when your thumb touched the hot bag, causing you to curse softly to yourself. "I'm ready to watch a video," he added.
"Really? What?" Sam's voice carried a hint of temptation and curiosity as he noticed you approaching from the closet where he was hidden, only to grab the seasoning from the cupboard. He felt a sense of relief with the door closed, preventing the echo from the other end of the line from being heard. "Oh, just some scary movie," you replied, then returned to the kitchen, seasoning your popcorn while playing with the knife in your hand before placing it back on the counter. This little theatrics of yours made him curse under his breath, unable to resist as his other hand gently brushed against his arousal. "You like scary movies?" he purred seductively. "Uh, uh," was all you could manage in response.
"What's your favorite scary movie?" Sam asked eagerly.
"Uh... I don't know," your voice sounded like music to his ears. He patiently waited, longing to hear your voice practically beg for him.
"You have to have a favorite," he insisted. "What comes to mind?"
"Um... Halloween. You know, the one with the guy in the white mask who walks around and stalks babysitters. What's yours?" Your voice took on a flirtatious tone as you spoke, but you couldn't help but hesitate, mindful of Sam's surroundings.
"Guess," he replied, teasingly.
"Nightmare on Elm Street!" Sam chuckled, though it was actually your favorite movie, not his.
"Isn't that the guy with knives for fingers?" he said, stating the obvious, but your lips curved into a wicked grin. "Yes, Freddy Krueger!"
"Freddy, that's right! I like that movie. It was scary," he admitted.
"Well, the first one was, but the rest sucked," you hinted with a pout, now walking into the cupboard to grab a bowl. It was now or never for Sam.
"So..." he purred, hitting a teasing note. "You have a boyfriend?"
You scoffed, tilting your head upon hearing his voice. You knew then that Sam was in the same room as you, but where exactly remained a mystery. "Why, you want to ask me out on a date?" He grinned, smirking even as he forced his main focus back on you, resisting the urge to imagine you on your knees in front of him. "Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?"
"No," you replied, the attraction between the two of you evident. But somehow, Sam hadn't managed to fully express it yet. And if tonight was going to be the night, he knew he wasn't going to let the opportunity slip away easily.
"You never told me your name," he remarked.
"Why do you want to hear my name?" you countered.
"Because I want to know who I am looking at," he replied smoothly.
"What did you say?" Of course, it was all part of the theatrical play, but hearing the fear in your voice turned him on even more. "I want to know who I am talking to," you replied, your gaze then meeting the closet near the kitchen. As you approached it, Sam heard your footsteps, the door opening before you could, revealing his imposing figure towering over you. Pretending to be shocked, you tried to run away, but Sam had enough time to catch you.
"Boo, Got you,"
"No, no, no," he purred, leaning in to smell your scent, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck. "You aren't getting away with it, doll," he said, his voice deeper than the one you were used to hearing on the phone. His fingers gently brushed against the bottom of your lip, then to his chin, making you look up at him. "How about you return the favor?"
"If you suck me off, then maybe, just maybe, you can be let go," he said, his eyes practically begging for compliance. It was evident when you nodded helplessly, and you could have sworn you felt his smirk beneath the mask. "Yes, sir—" you began, but his thumb went over your lips to correct you.
"It's Mr. Ghostface. From now on," he corrected firmly.
Your knees went weak, just enough for you to kneel down in front of him. You took the costume off as best as you could, lifting it over your head, and then proceeded to take his belt off. A gasp escaped your mouth as you did so.
"Forget how big it was, huh, princess?" he said with a co*cky chuckle, his fingers managing to caress your hair as you held onto his hardened co*ck. Leaning in, you pressed a few kisses on the tip of it, your cheeks now flushing a shade of pink. "It's... so big," you said innocently. Just as you were about to take it into your mouth, Sam's hips guided you, thrusting his entire dick inside as he murmured your name. "That's it, babygirl. Do it for Mr. Ghostface," he encouraged, leaning back further and groaning with each thrust as your eyes watered from the motion. But he didn't care; he went faster and faster until he announced, "I'm about to cum. I'll fill my princess' mouth up. She needs to be fed properly."
And he did, splattering his cum in your mouth. When you were able to let go, you licked the remaining drips from the corners as he cupped your face, uncovering it from his costume, his eyes darkening. "Swallow it, love," he commanded, and you nodded in complete obedience. Just as you did, his lips curved into a wicked grin, and he leaned in to hungrily kiss you, leaving no time to breathe.
Let's just say you were both lucky when you heard Dean's groan, his sleepy face rubbing his eyes as he blinked twice at the sight of Sam dressed up and you with your lips completely sore, a hint of disgust showing on the oldest brother's face. "Are you kidding?" he exclaimed, making the youngest Winchester chuckle as he leaned in to kiss your lips once more. "You were asleep," Sam defended, not entirely wrong himself.
"Get a room!" Dean's obvious disgust made the two of you chuckle, knowing he wasn't entirely wrong either. The offer still stood, suggesting that Sam wasn't entirely finished with you. "Do not worry, big bro," Sam said, glancing toward Dean and then back to you, admiring your current state.
"I was planning on it."
