SAM COMING CLEAN TO READER THAT HE'S SELF MEDICATING/IS A JUNKIE. and being all sad and pathetic and scared she is gonna leave him! Stoooooooop i have a savior complex and also want him to cry fuck me
-exam girlie
i was JUST writing sam and dealer!reader, oh gosh. as you wish! <3 (had to add a line break bc it's kinda long, not proofread oops)
𖦹 drug mention, whiny crybaby sam, he is such a good boy and eager to please, angst, make up sex ig, reader is NAWT happy!
𖦹 accompanied by Great Big White World ⋆ Marilyn Manson
"just- hear me out, okay?" Sam asks, rubbing his arms up and down while he paces your living room. you lean back into the couch, "i'm listening." this was the first time you'd seen him in a week. he was hospitalized after taking a speedball with Corey and Josh.
"i... i've been- it's 'cause-" he groans in frustration, tangling his hands in his hair and tugging. you watch, letting him do his thing. "i just.." he once again trails off, then sniffles. his voice wavers too - was he crying? you'd never seen sam cry. not once. ever.
he comes over and plops down onto the couch, elbows resting on his knees. he was going through a withdrawal - his eyes were bloodshot, he was shaking uncontrollably, and he looked like he hadn't slept in eons.
"i know you're gonna be mad at me, okay? i already know!" he whines. you sigh. "Sam, just tell me, alright?" you were getting sick of him beating around the bush. he always did this shit - whines and stomps his feet and flaps his sweater paws and shifts his weight and shimmies around and pouts. and you ate it up every time. because he was your boyfriend. and it was adorable.
his hand comes up to fiddle with his labret. "i use..." he murmurs softly, and you can't do much but blink at him. you knew he smoked weed, but hard drugs? then you're filled with irritation.
"Corey and Josh did this, didn't they? put you up to this?" you stand, and cross your arms. Sam immediately follows suit, now looking down at you. "wait! wait, listen okay?! you gotta listen, please!" he takes a shaky breath. "i- you don't understand! please, listen- don't leave me, don't leave me, please."
you just stare up at him. "you lied to me, Sam." he huffs and stomps his foot like an angry bunny, squirming around. "i didn't!" "you did! you told me you weren't going to get into any trouble with them, Sam!"
the look in your eyes made him want to cry. you were pissed, and it was all his fault. everything was always all his fault, wasn't it?
"just forget it!" he yells, tears spilling down his cheeks. "you never listen to me! never! you're just like my parents!" and that really pissed you off. in a swift motion, you reach up and grip his face, making him look down at you. "i never listen to you, Sam? who's always been there for you, huh? who's always supported you? let you stay over when you run away from home, when you need someone to talk to because your parents don't want to be bothered? huh? but i don't listen? i don't care?"
oh he most definitely fucked up. you were completely right - he went to you for every damn thing. every minor inconvenience, and you always entertained him and helped with whatever it was. his shoelace was knotted? you got it undone for him. he wanted you to do his homework because he was busy getting high? you did it. and he had the nerve to imply you didn't give a fuck about him.
"wait!" Sam cries, wrapping his arms around you. "i didn't mean it, i didn't. i just feel like you're getting mad at me, and i hate when people are mad at me, 'cause i feel like i'm gonna get yelled at, and-" he stops his ramble and sniffles. "'m sorry."
and there goes all your resolve. he was so precious (and pathetic), you couldn't stay mad. if you were mad at anyone, it was his bitchass friends you would be having a talk with soon. you sigh softly and rub his back. "it's okay Sammy, i'm sorry for yelling."
he hiccups, and pulls away, wiping his snotty nose with his sleeve. "really?" he asks, and before you nod, he pouts. "you're lying!" you raise an eyebrow. what was he on about now? "you're just saying that to get me to shut up, aren't you?" here comes the waterworks. again.
and your resolve was back. "Sam-" "no! i'm so sick of you all! you never try and listen to how i feel!" you sigh and put your hands up in surrender. "fine." you don't want to argue. you turn to walk off, making Sam stop and look at you. "...babe?"
you begin walking, and he steps to you, tugging you back by your shirt collar. "babe! where are you going?!" with a roll of your eyes, you turn around and glare up at him. "to give you some fucking space, because you're pissing me off and i'm not in the mood to deal with you."
he'd never heard such harsh words from you before! you'd never told him off, you always coddled him!
"w-wait!" oh, he was stuttering now. how pathetic. "i can make it up to you! please! let me, please." he shifts around nervously, then cups your face and leans in, smashing his lips against yours. you reluctantly kiss back, but his desperation made him so aggressive that you had to hurry up to keep pace, his tears and snot getting onto your face.
"hmm, mmph," he pulls away, a string of saliva that connected your tongues snapping once he licks his lips. "lemme make it up to you," he once again wipes his snot away with his sleeve. "i can, i promise." when you just give him a look, he takes it as a yes and begins to frantically undress himself until he's just in his plaid boxers and socks and shoes. he guides you to the couch and pushes you down, tugging at your jeans as if he was running out of time. "gonna make it up to you, promise," he murmurs, pulling them (along with your panties) off you.
he takes himself out and spits down onto his hand, then rubs it over his cock. as soon as he pushes inside, he lets out a bitchy whine and nearly collapses on top of you. "wait, i got it, promise-" you noticed he always said that. he promised. you had yet to see him keep one, though.
Sam's eyes begin to well with tears again, his nose getting runny. "wai- wait wait wait," he exhales shakily then swallows. "i can do it..." he sniffles, his hips slowly moving forward until he bottoms out inside you. "hnn," he sniffles, warm tears falling onto your face.
he was dead set on pleasing you. he thrusts his hips against yours, tears continually falling onto you - your face, neck, and shirt, depending on where he was. "din' mean to make you upset," he murmurs, trying to focus on not cumming prematurely. "always- hhhuh- do that," his arms were shaking, he could barely hold himself up. "hate making you mad, y'know,"
finally losing his strength, he falls forward, his weight now pressing into you, drawing a huff from you. "oh god, Sam-" he lets out a low whine, nuzzling against your cheek, smearing tears onto your skin. "please don' be mad anymore babe, don't," you wince, trying to push him up by his shoulders to no avail. he was a heavy thing. "alright, i'm not," and him fucking you wasn't really making it up to you. he was just sobbing pathetically and using you as a goddamned tissue while he rutted his hips like a virgin.
he did cum prematurely, surprise surprise. he was so fucking pathetic it was laughable. but he was your pathetic laughable boy nonetheless. it took him an entire ten minutes to recover, all his weight on you as he laid on you with no care for crushing you. he was silent besides his panting, and you could do nothing except stroke his hair to hopefully coax him to sleep. you would have an actual productive conversation with him sometime soon, not able to handle another fit from Sam.
ᝰ.ᐟ @102hannah
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