
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2260998.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Sam_Winchester/Lanie_Greenfield
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Lanie_Greenfield
  Additional Tags:
      Community:_blindfold_spn, Underage_-_Freeform, devirginization, Dirty
      Talk, Extremely_Dubious_Consent, Impregnation, Sam_Winchester's_Demonic
      Powers
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-08-28 Words: 1691
****** It'll never be over, will it? ******
by Edwardina
Summary
     prompt: I want some really filthy, kinky Sam/Lanie (the girl from
     Long Distance Call) dubcon impregnation. Sam has this crazy burning
     need to get her so fucking pregnant (some sort of like...demon
     breeding drive, maybe?), all full up for him. She's just this little
     submissive virgin, all young and fresh and fertile, taking whatever
     she can get from him because he was just so ~nice~ and ~sweet~ and
     ~understanding~ to her during the case. Little did she know...
Notes
     Written for blindfold_spn. Originally posted here.
Sam doesn't know what makes Lanie different from the other girls he's helped,
high school student or no, but maybe it's the absolutely haunted, sharply hurt
look in her eyes, and the way she looks at Sam like he's the only one. The only
one who can help her. The only one who would possibly ever, ever understand her
in the whole world, the kind of look that Sam's never gotten from any girl
before. But he has to do it. She's the one. She trips the trigger. She has to
be the one to bear the next generation. He doesn't understand it, but he knows
it. He goes back to her house, then back again, cheap dress pants barely
containing his dick, just to make sure. And every time he sees her, the need
gets stronger and stronger. The idea takes hold of him more and more.
The last time he goes to Lanie's, it's right after school. He watches the bus
drop her off, then watches her wait out on front porch for her little brother,
reading some book and looking so alone.
Her eyes light up when he pulls up and gets out of the car, smiling at her.
"Can I come in?"
He likes Lanie's bedroom. It's a sanctuary, so lonely, but full of her things.
Books on colleges. There's one on Stanford. She'd like it there...
"Simon, go start on your homework, okay? Don't answer the phone. Not for
anyone. Just ignore it, okay?" she instructs her brother. Sam watches her,
hands in pockets, and smiles at Simon as the kid sighs and hefts his Cars-
printed backpack into his room.
"So is it over?" Lanie asks him, cutting to the quick and shutting her bedroom
door behind them.
"That's why I'm here..." Sam starts, and Lanie lets out the kind of huff
someone lets out when they've been holding their breath for far too long and
tears up, fast and overwhelmed.
The comment Dean made about jail bait is hanging there somewhere in his head,
jangling oddly between foreboding and arousing, as Sam hugs her, pulls her in
to his chest and feels her arms slide around him, tentative at first, then
tighter. The sleeves of her sweater are too long on her. He touches her hair
for a brief, silky moment, then takes her round face in his hands and kisses
her, startling her still for a second before she responds, tears still rolling
down her cheeks. She is in high school, so she's probably frenched a guy
before, but Sam still feels like he's plundering completely filthy territory
just slitting her mouth open with his tongue.
"Lanie," he whispers, breaking from her but unable to keep his tongue from
fucking into her mouth - it's hardly even him, or maybe more like him than Sam
has ever been or will ever be again. "Stop me. Just stop me. Say no... say you
don't feel it too..."
"But I do," she says, whisper breaking and eyes impossibly certain and
uncertain, and that is it.
Sam has her backed up onto her own bed, is laying her down on it and hulking
over her, twice her size, his tie swiping between her tits, and Sam knows
they're going to grow, her tits, her belly, she doesn't even know what he's
going to do to her, how big his cock is and how full of come he is, and the
knowledge shoves him on hard, like being possessed. She's excited when he
kisses her again, grabs at his hair and curls a leg around his thigh, and he
grinds his dick down against the zip of her jeans, the both of them fully-
clothed but his hard-on fucking impossible for anyone to miss.
He shoves up the cute little knit shirt she's wearing under her too-big
cardigan and sucks at her tits through her bra, wonders if any high school
guy's ever done that to her before, feels her nipples pebble up hard for him
and hears her gasp. Her chest is pale, milk-white with a few tiny freckles, and
when his too-big fingers pry the cups of her snowy white bra down, he finds her
nipples little and coral and all pointy-tight for him. Lanie fucking trembles,
arches her spine needily, and Sam sucks at each of her tits, thinking of this
baby he's gonna fuck her full of sucking at them and groaning, compulsive with
the idea.
She lets him unbutton her jeans and feel her up through her panties, which are
hot from all the heat and juice she's producing for him, then he stops to grab
her by the belt loops and jerks her jeans down. Her panties are a pale lilac,
the material darker at the crotch, and the insides of her thighs are as milky
white as her girlish, still-growing tits are.
"I've never done this before," she whispers heatedly, intensely, seriously, and
Sam groans, growls, something, God, yes, perfect, she's the one he's gonna bust
open and fuck until he's breeding that untouched little pussy of hers. "But...
I trust you," she adds, and thumbs down her own panties. "You're probably the
only person in the whole world I trust."
"Don't worry. I'll take care of you," Sam says lowly, unfastening his slacks
and fighting with his boxer-briefs to free his cock. He knows they don't have
much time for this, he has to get her now, fast, before anyone walks in on them
-- her little brother, her dad -- and she's left barren.
She's so goddamn slippery for him, pussy so sweet and warm and wet, though,
that he just rubs the head of his cock there in the folds of it for a minute,
hips bearing down and making him slide, Lanie whispering, "Oh, God, oh God," at
him, not knowing what he's doing until he's pushing right in her, fucking tight
as can be, and he doesn't stop till he's pushed right past the insistent
barrier of her hymen and is slicing her hot little womb apart with his cock.
She cries out, throat raw with it, and he covers her mouth with his hand, locks
her down between it and his cock sunk deep in her.
"It's over, Lanie. It's over," he promises, watching tears trickle down her
temples into her hair, and after a few moments, she nods, meeting his eyes in a
way that makes his guts coil dark.
She's so small. Almost all women are, compared to him, but she's just a little
girl who probably hasn't even been to prom yet, cunt so snug, his dick pounding
her even though he fucks her gentle, at first. There's no room in her. He pumps
against her cervix every time, and she swings between cries of discomfort
muffled into his hand and groans for more, pleasure-pain. He fucks her in her
own little bed, losing touch with reality as he thinks about it more and more
shamelessly, fucking his little girl pregnant in her own little girl bed.
Filling her up with his dick, her flat little tummy practically poking out just
from that, let alone how it's gonna fill out when she's showing, when she's got
his baby in her, his babies, all his babies, there's only ever going to be
Lanie. He's going to come back again and again, check on her, rub her tummy,
ease his cock into her and fuck her while she's already full of what he put in
her, already beyond pregnant. He's going to make sure she's knocked up, hold
her down and shoot off loads in her until there's no way she's not knocked up.
It's like a fever in his mind, sharp as a vision, Lanie spreading her legs for
him and only him, crying for his cock, begging for him to fuck her full,
begging to have his baby.
Her body racks under his, and Sam snaps into awareness just in time to watch
Lanie's face scrunch - his hand still covering her mouth tightly - and her eyes
roll back as her lids drop and she comes on him, pussy squeezing his dick like
she wants him to spurt rope after rope of seed in her, and he loses control of
his hips, all control, fucking her sharp and deep and hissing, "Yes. That's it.
That's right. Big girl now, huh? Feel me in there?"
Lanie nods, straining and sobbing against his hand, crushed sounds that seem
like she's trying to cry, Yes, Yes.
"Good girl... good girl," Sam whispers, and Lanie clutches arms around his
back, wraps a leg loose of her jeans tight around him and bucks. She wants it
worse than Sam ever could've guessed, is more fertile and ready and needing him
to come in her and get her pregnant more than he knew. His hipbones slap at
her, and he lets himself throw his weight down heavy upon her, lets himself
grind and gasp, "It's over. It's over. Getting you - so - pregnant --" and
breed her deep. Lanie urgently cries out against his hand, and her pussy
clutches fitfully around him as he empties himself into her, balls jerking load
after load out of him to dump and smear and push farther inside her as he rides
through it. He has no idea whether she even knows how he can feel it - how he
knows, without a doubt, that this is it. It really is over. He can practically
feel her body becoming his, full of him; can practically feel himself breeding
her.
"Oh - God --" is what he utters after the shock and adrenaline of it leaves him
suddenly, and he lets Lanie's face go, moves to grasp at her hair and look at
her eyes. "Lanie. Lanie... are you..."
"Don't go," is what Lanie says. Tears are still in her eyes, but she looks up
at him with that needful seriousness as she pants. "I know you have to... I
mean, my dad's gonna be home in an hour or something... but not yet."
"Not going anywhere," promises Sam, feeling her clutch around him and that heat
prickle in his gut again.
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